A good week for championships

After taking a cup at Wildwood on Sunday, my weekly rec league team took our 4 or 5 seed and turned it into a Cinderella story.  The details are already a little fuzzy, but the longer the evening wore on, the better we got at frisbee. By the time all the brats were gone, we were amazing. 

In the semis, we jumped out to a 4-0 lead. Despite a few throwaways, our offense was comparatively clean and moving the disc. The defense was awake and pressuring the other team. We weren't getting D's, but we were taking away the first few cuts and forcing Ochos to consider other options. Not wanting the lead to grow too large, we dropped a couple discs and the Ochos got it into the endzone. They started getting smarter about taking advantage of match-ups, but we kept playing our game which actually was (finally!) dump swing on this fine summer evening and we traded points and took half at 8-4. I'm not sure how others felt, but after half it felt like time was standing still... We kept doing us (in the good way!)  and the Ochos got anxious and took a few deep shots, fortunately Beeby was there to crush their hopes and dreams. Tim was breaking marks, Patti was getting open and we kept nursing our 4 point lead. It was either the end of semis or start of finals, but we just kept moving the disc and waiting for openings. Patient offense made a huge difference.  Everybody was contributing and nothing was too flashy. Maybe we gave one back, but I think the score ended up something like 11-8.  

The other semi had been a one-point game, but when the finals started, we picked up where we left off. They tried to hurt Beeby after we were up 1-0. He landed hard on the ground and had to come out. Not to be deterred, we pressured on D and moved the disc on O and we were up 4-0 when Shiny called a time out. We threw a zone at them and saw immediate results. We punched in 4 more as their desperation grew and took half 8-0. Shiny was getting pretty upset and pick calls were rampant, but our reinforcements arrived (Yay Carley!) and we came out of half and kept rolling. Big Nate got a lay out D and then grabbed the score. We were up 10-0 before Shiny got on the board. They went nuts with the score 10-1. They had a couple nice breaks after that to get a few more. Gravy/Plantaris/Kate hauled in a deep shot near the front of the end zone, called a time out and set up the iso for Mel. With a little over the top break high-release, we kept marching toward our destiny. I think we closed out 15-6 (maybe?) and then the championship grilling was on!

Good times. Thanks Stink!

Wildwood #11- Dressed for the occasion

There's no recap from last year's 3:1 division, Boardwalk Treats road to the cup, but there are a lot of pictures. This year I'm short on pictures, but I thought I'd try to jot down a few memories.

Broaddus, Johnson & Associates were named after a long-ago joke stemming from nickname confusion. Despite comical beginnings, our play was no joke. We took our portion of the 2:2 division with force. We were barely challenged during the weekend, but we had a blast. There's less flying around than their used to be. I'd like to credit improved throws and improved throwers, but I should probably also credit the passage of time. I did have one layout bid, but the disc glanced off my hand.

The drive up from DC was full of traffic as usual, but being with friends made it just perfect. We once again landed at the Caribbean Hotel where we introduced a new wrinkle and grilled out dinner by the pool. It was delicious and took about as long as waiting for a table with a group of 11 (or 14).

Rain and wind were forecasted for Saturday. The wind showed up, but we seemed relatively protected by the pier. One team did comment that we seemed to defy physics and I think that was a testament to the previously mentioned throwers. It's hard to judge talent after going 7-0, but our DC elite women played like elite women (read: freakin' awesome) and the rest of us can hold our own, or at least we could this weekend. The rain circled and sprinkled, but thankfully never arrived. The closest a team came to us on Saturday was something like 15-8. I made it my goal to get on the field with everyone and I met that goal. My mind could have used more playing time, but my body was probably good.

We grilled again Saturday night and enjoyed being together. Many of us even skipped the beer garden, something that's become a strong tradition in the last few years. Times are changing? Somebody suggested we skip Wildwood and just vacation together. It has some appeal, but probably not the same draw. The Ultimate is still important and holds a special place in my heart. I skipped the party at the Bolero and was lamenting the fact that I hadn't run in to any old friends based on those evening choices. Sunday morning, down the steps came two friends who'd moved away from Colorado 3 years ago. We chatted a bit and realized that a finals match-up was possible (imminent?).

We rolled through quarters like we were living in a laundromat. I loved playing with everyone, but Jessie was amazing. She was just this calming force and as soon as I got the disc, I wanted to give it back to her. We had a bit of competition in semis, only winning by 4 and then faced off against my friends and former teammates in the finals. They had small numbers and talented women, but we had large numbers and more talented women. We turned on some focus and crushed that team from Charleston 15-4. It almost ended on a 2 point thumber from AJ, but when that came up just short, I got another chance to play. I took a pass from Sam, turned up field and fired a shot to the streaking workhorse Stills who laid out for the win.   The cup was ours (or our fearless leader's). Jessie and Stills were named MVP and I apparently picked up the nickname of Old Man Sprinter.

That's cup #3 for me in Wildwood #11. I totally dig that place, at least on the last weekend in July. I totally dig these people... probably any weekend they'd let me.

Wildwood: Dad Jokes edition

After 2 years off, one for a move and one for a lack of movement (read: torn ACL), it was time to return to the biggest beach Ultimate tournament in the world in Wildwood, NJ.

I'd been excited for months. My physical therapist had helped me prepare a plan going into the weekend that I'd hoped would get me ready for a return to Ultimate on sand. That plan reminded me of a few forgotten lessons about athletic endeavors: have a goal, make a plan, get after it. And a few lessons I have not forgotten: doing something consistently matters, a workout buddy is a big help, missing a day here and there isn't the same as quitting.

The plan was low on Ultimate, but I'd tried to get in some throws the week leading up to the fun.

Friday morning arrived, I was back in DC, and Wildwood was upon us. Yee-haw!

The drive up could have been a highlight most weeks of the year. Sam was at the wheel, dodging cars and seeking the fast lane, Matt was riding shotgun spreading his cheer while Kyle and I shared the backseat. Good conversation was abundant and the game of Trees was a another reunion with an old friend. The highlights had just begun.

In a dangerous first (for me), we arrived at the hotel in daylight with time to kill. The early start did wonders for our spirits and as more of the Dad Jokes team assembled including Stills and Alan, we headed to the beach. What started off as a game of catch became keep away. We couldn't help ourselves. Only dinner could coax us off the beach and back to the other spirits already obtained.

After a rowdy-ish Mexican meal served by an Eastern European waiter and a long walk to and from the Bolero for a spot of dancing, we retired to our hotel to continue enjoying one another's company.

Night became day and sleep became loud knocking on the door. Early morning accusations of a late night ruckus were waylaid. We managed to separate fact from fiction and our team from the team staying in the motel in the rooms below us. Thankfully, we were allowed to stay with some provisional (and some impossible?) warnings.

That stirring start not-with-standing, we arrived to the familiar scene of field upon field stretched out on the beach as teams in wild colors arrived slowly trudging through the sand. We were pink and blue. We were Dad Jokes. What time is it? Time to get a watch.

The players that would make up this team were a collection of talented and fun individuals that Sam once again pulled together for our 3-1 run through the beer division.

Sam- Our captain (for the 7th year- I've made 6?) assembled the team and dominates her match-ups. She's quick and her grabs out of the sky with the Wildwood coasters in the background are forever etched in my mind.

Bucky- Coached by Sam, she was a defensive workhorse, wanted crowd assistance for her layouts, and applied sunscreen on the regular. When she wasn't getting cited, she was such a positive intense presence.

Jessie- A silent dynamo. She was everywhere. Her throws were gorgeous and they just complimented the smart way she played every aspect of the game. She was quiet as advertised, but her game spoke volumes.

Press- The ukulele-playing Dad-joke generating athletic spark-plug. We counted on Press to take on some big match-ups. He relished the challenge, won more than his fair share and then found the endzone with some great vision.

Stills- He's protected our country from under the sea and finds a way to come out on top. His mastery of the hardest throw in the game can't match the mastery of his own motivation. The man can work and the man can score.

Alan- Battling back from an injury that has hobbled his dance moves, Alan made the most of his time in the sand. His throws are poetry and we leaned on them heavily. He did what it took on defense using that deadly combination of heights and smarts. He took Dad Jokes into creepy uncle jokes many times during the weekend, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

Kyle- With a host of dad jokes of his own, Kyle came ready to play. He was masterful in playing within himself, but thrilling when it turned out that within himself included his special float and layout scores for days.

Varun- Though he shared the Texas connection of several on the team, Varun looked at home in the sand. His give and go cuts were things of beauty propelled by his speed. His throws were sweet and his decision-making top notch which showed up especially well when he was hounding opponents on defense.

Matt- With his piercing blue eyes, Matt flies through the air with the greatest of ease. If a disc can be caught, I want this guy going for it. The knee brace didn't appear to slow him down and it was very meaningful to once again get to share the field with one of my all time favorite teammates.

Joining this cast of characters and warming up a few dad jokes of my own, we found our first opponent "Definitely Not Cops". They had one man who towered over the rest at about 6 foot 10 inches. When they chose to use him, we couldn't stop him. Luckily for us, we hung around and pulled out the win. The team was learning about each other and we were happy to get a win.

From there, Saturday was mostly a cruise. We had a few lapses, but our movement was smooth. There was always a dump and the cuts went mostly unchallenged. After going down 2-0 in one game, we were soon up 9-2. Personally, I felt like I couldn't find my footing on defense. I was mired in sand and aging legs, but it didn't seem to matter. We had a good day, notching wins against teams that didn't get closer than about 5 points. The women of our opponents were totally overmatched and if there was one dominant man, there usually weren't more, so we could keep them in check. We played in the surf between games, told dad jokes, and avoided melting by staying in the shade. We counted on Alan to win the lag and then counted on disc movement to wear down our opponents.

We spent Saturday evening in the beer garden, munching pizza in line, playing an epic game of Trees somewhere in the crowd, and just enjoying the scene. Saturday night had more ukulele, but even less of the rowdy-ness. The motel may have been watching, but after a long day, we lounged, talked, and Bob Dylan-ed our night away until sleep came easily.

Up on Sunday and spread out in various directions, we came back together on the field and readied our weary legs. It's been a long time since I've had a Sunday and doubts were creeping in as my body creaked to life. I don't remember a lot about our first game, the quarterfinals. It was a bit more of a battle. Things were close in the middle. Alan probably snuck in a 2-pointer despite the fact that his dogs were barking and he thought his day was nearly done. It felt a little more like Sunday. Throws weren't quite as crisp, defense seemed a little closer. Mine included. This may have been the game where I finally made a play on defense. I snuck around a guy and tipped one away. Dad Jokes worked their way back up the field and I cut toward the endzone. Press saw it and zipped an inside out flick in my direction. I was on it for a step and then the sand bogged me down. Buoyed by the d, I jumped into the air and came down with the disc with a thud for a score. Bookends? Oh, yeah. Stills claimed I hadn't lost a step, but I declined his charity this time.

We closed out the game and moved on to the semi-finals. My mind is mostly a blur here as well. I don't remember playing poorly against the team from a minor planet. Things were a little chippy, some stall calls, some disagreements about moving the line, but I don't remember where the game slipped away. I got another d poking away a dump throw, but before I knew it the score was 10-6. We snagged a score as the horn blew to make it 10-7. We could prolong the game if we scored, but time was definitely running out. Someone remind me how this went down, but we got the disc back on a turn and punched in a score. Now, we had to pull, get the disc, score two points and that would keep the game going.

We got the D near our goal line, but that meant we had to work the disc back down the field so we could throw the full-field two-pointer. Most everyone was turned around now as we worked back toward their endzone and turned the disc. They gave it right back when they weren't sure which way they were going. We again worked the disc toward their endzone. Two points was our only way forward. Scoring anything else would have ended the game with a loss. We got the disc down the field and had Jessie's flick set up for our two point try. Jessie got hand-blocked. It all happened so fast that it was almost too stunning to realize. The other team poured back in to score. They only had inches to go. I'm told a foul may have been called on the throw, but that disappeared. Instead Jessie got a D by knocking it away from the girl who had just hand-blocked her. The disc was ours again and we were in good position to take another shot at a two pointer.

Varun raced down to the other endzone and set up on the left. My defender and his defender gave him a little space by camping out near the middle of the endzone. I stayed back as Jessie's dump. She sent the disc over to me. I eyed Varun and then saw Matt make his move down the right sideline. He was headed for that corner. I can only imagine that my glance at Varun froze the defense for just a split-second. Matt's man was giving chase. I wound up and threw a somewhat high release backhand across my body. With no mark, this was an easy throw to get off, but there wasn't much room on the other end. The throw headed toward the back corner. Some thought it was moving too fast and would go out of bounds. I don't even know if I was one of those people.

The two defenders from the middle of the endzone moved toward the disc, Matt expertly used his body to shield them. Matt's defender went up as well, but the disc was already past him. The disc seemed to slow right near the back of the endzone. Matt went up and grabbed it and the other team was stunned. Neither Matt nor Varun realized I'd made the throw. We were all thrilled, but not done.

We had to play d again. It was now universe point. We got the disc and with a man in a loincloth bearing down on him, Kyle laid out for another clutch grab (Edit? Perhaps the lay out came after the contact, based on photo evidence). It looked rough, but Kyle came up smiling. We had pulled out the victory and moved on to the finals.

It felt like we were a team of destiny then, but destiny can be fickle. After a tied joke-off, we won the lag. We battled well in the first game, utilizing the Alan to Sam connection for 2-pointers in thrilling fashion, but came up a bit short something like 6-7. We dominated the second game with an early 2-pointer and rolling ahead to something like 7-2.  The final game was to 5. The other team's men were fast. There was nowhere to hide except in their occasional miscue, but our destiny ran out. Early in the game to 5 a disc about to score glanced off our hands. The other team, grabbed it and sent it down the field for a 2 point score. We recovered a few points, but in a game to 5 we couldn't find an answer for their athleticism.

We were disappointed, but happy to be together. They say, 'it's not whether you win or lose, it's how you play the game'. I've struggled with that all my life, but this was a reminder that they might be on to something. I'm so proud I got to take part. I'm so happy my body let me play. I'm so pleased to make new friends and reunite with old ones in these battles that go on and on for as long as I can get away with it.

Until next year!

A return

Standing, held in a half-nelson by my own lungs, I coughed and heaved near the back of the endzone on our sideline. Nearly 360 days of attrition, of sitting at a computer, of disc golf and walking serving as my exercise, were now reminding me of my own mortality.

The reminders are coming too frequently lately.

On the verge of losing my PB&J, I regained control before coughing and heaving another spell. Finally after way too long, my body seemed to settle. My new team had just lost our first game 13-1, but I was so happy to be back out there playing, the score hardly mattered. The coughing made me concerned about a second game, but thankfully my body rallied.

I'd been nervous about this return to Ultimate for days. I played some disc golf that morning to try to calm my nerves. My heart rate remained elevated, but at least I was distracted. I avoided starting the first game, but then it came my turn to play as my weary teammates looked to the sidelines for a substitute. I didn't really have time to consider the moment any longer. I just stepped on the field and let instinct take over.

I'd considered wearing long pants to hide my brace, but chose comfort and honesty over trying to hide a weakness. All my weaknesses aren't braced anyway. I've lost step, an inch. I've barely thrown for a year. I've been away from the game because it's been too hard to try to stay around this time. The distance made me miss it and here I was back for a second game.

My knee felt ok. The rest of me was struggling a bit. I didn't seem to have an extra gear. That gear had been fading before last year. I tried to play smarter, but it's a lot easier to be smart when you're fast. Still, as we entered game two, I was contributing. The sun was shining and my new team was trying to figure out how to work together.

I kept volunteering to handle. It seemed to fill a need and it conserved some of my energy. I did get to catch one long pass deep. The throw was short and a female poached off her player to get in my lane. I started to jump and realized that she had position so I stayed grounded. She macked it and I ran it down, dumped it off and went in for the score. I threw a couple of flick hucks as well. A few times my disc golf grips confused me for a split-second, but overall those throws seemed to have helped my sense of power and distance. The first huck was swallowed by the wind, but the second one was in the other direction and drifted to my streaking teammate for the score. I tossed a few away as well.

We had a good half, but the game got away from us. I was not the only one running low on energy. Some soreness had started to creep in to my muscles as they recalled the effort it takes to play. It was a day like so many others with some good things and some bad.

I left with a smile one my face. It had been too long since I'd been on the field. Now, several days later, it almost feels like I could do it again.

Soon, very soon.

Knee jerk poetry

'Round 'bout a month ago
I twisted my knee

Falling hard to the ground
I screamed "INJURY!"

I rested and iced,
elevated and compressed

R.I.C.E helped a little
but I remained depressed

The doctor said,
"You did a number on that knee"

It appears that number
was not one million and three

No, no, that number
requires surgery

I tore my ACL,
a stabilizing tendon

I lost my way
no more twistin' or bendin'

I'll go under the knife
and borrow some hamstring

Hopefully all will go well
and I can return before next spring

Sports, sports, sports!

It will come as no surprise that I'm back to write about my sports.

First, I had the opportunity to return to good old Team Schaefer in DC for this year's winter league tournament. Besides being pleased to see so many friendly faces, I was also pleased to finish a season after I cut short last year's with a move. Team Schaefer wouldn't be able to capture last year's winning ways, but I was thrilled to play alongside teammates of yore like Matt, Ryan, Ali, Scrap and Sam and to meet and battle with new teammates. We ended up 1-3 on the day. I snagged a few D's, won a few battles, and enjoyed scraping up my body with a variety of failed layouts. One of my favorite moments came on a line with Matt, Scrap, and Sam. Sam got the D, the disc moved quickly and Scrap put up a nice throw that I could track down in the end zone. My favorite personal play (other than perhaps winning a battle of the beards in the air) was a strange one. I dove for a disc as my opponent went to catch it. He was successful, but I got my whole hand on the disc. Rather than let go, I tugged on it to keep my balance and he ended up swinging me around into position to put on a mark. I don't think it was as intentional on my part as it sounds, but it worked out well and I was happy I hadn't let go until my balance was regained.

I miss those games on the mall, the polo fields, and glug, glug, glugging with Team Schaefer.

I returned to games under the lights for winter league playoffs mile high style, still battered a bit from the weekend. In a wild scheduling twist, what had once been a game I was to miss became one I could make although without the rest I would have liked. I arrived and dragged myself through a warm-up. I declined to start, hoping instead that I could be ready off the bench. Unfortunately, the team seemed to be in the same mode. We played very little defense in the first half and fell behind. We switched to a zone and I had some good success in the cup, but then our offense faltered, particularly in the red zone. The game was over and so was our season. It was not the way I thought we'd go out.

To continue the trend of underperforming, I ran a 3 mile race yesterday. I can tell you about the skiing the day before or the fact that it was once again about 10 degrees with snow and ice on the ground, but I think the real story is that I'm out of shape. Running once a week and playing Ultimate once a week and then doing a little (stress on little) are not keeping me in good shape. This series of races I'm in is handicapped, so based on the performance at the 10k, I had a rather favorable start time. I knew I could run away from my group and that I had lots of people to pass, but I could tell that the miles were not flying by. I battled throughout, and in the last 400 meters had passed all, but one young man, probably 12 or 13. I pulled up behind him with about 200 meters to go and to his credit he kicked it in. I was kicking too and I had two thoughts, 1. It seems kind of mean to beat a kid, 2. Maybe he's not going to break.

I put aside the first and pushed on. Fairly quickly, the kid's kick wore out and I cruised into the finish line in what turned out to be (readers of this blog from way back when will know) second place overall. I actually finished 14th by time, a survival of a 20:14, 6:45 per mile pace. I don't really understand what this does to my season points or the trophy series, but I've got a 4 miler in April where I can start to figure that out. These slow times may actually help me in this series if I can find a way to build up my base and start running like I mean it again.

Until we sports again...

Positive Vibes shooting from my fingertips

Winter league Ultimate started last night. The performance of my creaky body and a brand new drafted together team have taken a back seat to another thought.

There are many things that I miss about coaching at CUA, but one more than I realized. I knew I missed the people, and the Ultimate, but until last night I hadn't realized how much I missed the positive vibes. During the school year, I was twice weekly psyching myself up to be a positive force. Most of the time, that was not a daunting task. Watching and helping people learn Ultimate is a joyous activity, but it still required that I be present and aware.

When I'm playing, I want to be positive, but I get wrapped up in my self. Coaching, I was wrapped up in everybody else. It turns out that was glorious. I was focused on the good. Oh, sure I was sometimes focused on the drops and the distractions and all the rest, but my mind was churning and I was searching for the things I could compliment and cheer for.

How great is that? Two or even three times a week, I was finding things to cheer for. 

I need to do more of that. It might cheer me up.

From lungbuster to 5k

It's been a big week for sports. I went to a tournament in Breckenridge last weekend. I was invited up Friday morning. The team was thrown together, but the setting was perfect. I had several of those "I can't believe I live here" moments as I was looking at the mountains and preparing for my first non-beach Ultimate tournament in ages.

The team, named GRUDGE, came together well. We clicked, we pulled in pick-up after pick-up, sometimes from the very team that would play us next. The pick-ups seemed to get better as the weekend went on. We went 2-2 on Saturday. I had 5 turns and a few nice highlights including a grab on a hammer that had seemingly sailed over my head. Somehow I hung in the air and it stuck to my hand. Sunday, we made quick work of the first team, although my layout resulted in some ringing ears and then we made pretty quick work to avenge a loss from Saturday. We took our semi-final game to 9-9 before succumbing 13-10. I got to land our last punch, though, with a down wind high release backhand break. I'm skipping over a few moments, including a not-so-pretty argument where I was unintentionally in a guy's face regarding a strip call and a whole lot of anger over bad score-keeping. I'm skipping over some good moments too including a hot tub and no turns on Sunday that I can recall. I'm amazed and thrilled that I made it through 7 games. I've definitely hurt worse.

I farmed on Monday and played in a disappointing league game that we lost by a point. My feet and boy were starting to complain, but I managed a slow bike ride and a light run to get ready for the 5k still ahead.

Good times.

Nursing some soreness, I entered a 5k on the fourth of July. It was poorly run, but I was able to knock it out with a performance that looked a lot like my last 5k. The plan was to follow one of my brother-in-law's high school stars, but in the first 400 meters I realized that her pace wasn't quite what I had in mind. I heard cheers for her all the way though, so my pace wasn't a whole lot quicker. There wasn't a lot of intrigue in the race. I'd expected 18:30 and I ran 18:26. I was fighting hard to beat the lead dog at mile one (5:52), but never saw him again after he and his owner stopped for water. I crossed the 2-mile alone at 11:46, passed one more guy with about 800 meters to go, struggled to manufacture any sort of kick and finished 8th, well back of 7th and about 10 seconds ahead of 9th.

It was nice to be back on the fields and on the run. I need to grab a little more of that glory this summer.

It's all new except what isn't

So much has changed lately, but I return to write about a familiar topic. I'm not sure why I keep coming back to it. As I watched The Office series finale and Jim said of the documentary of Dunder Mifflin something like, "You've given me a tape that's allowed me to watch myself grow up. How cool is that?" I thought, SUPER COOL. It's the highlight reel I've often dreamt about. This blog might be mine. There are many highlights and much to consider, but I'm drawn to the sports highlights.

I'm in a new place in a new city. I'm struggling to find my way a bit; just as things were about to get a little ugly, not Atlas Shrugged ugly, but someone smoking at the table next to me ugly, Ultimate leapt back into my life.

I'd been thinking about letting it fade away. I'd been able to play winter league in DC. I missed out as my team went on to be champions, but I'd helped in the regular season. My body had held up. Now, without physical therapy and more limited transportation options, it seemed like maybe Ultimate was something that I could let slide away. I was missing CUA terribly and playing didn't seem like a remedy. A new home could mean new hobbies.

Instead, a friend, a former teammate from DC, who moved out here several years ago announced that I was playing with his team in spring league. "Before someone else scoops you up," he said. I accepted. The scoop became like an embrace. For much of spring the embrace took place in and between snow storms, but it breathed new life into my new life. I'd sit on the couch on Monday nights an hour before I could even reasonably leave for my game and twitch. I'd scurry around the house packing my things. I'd do a little extra stretching and I'd be excited to play.

Move ahead seven weeks through some ups and downs and many very close games. We won some and lost some and I enjoyed them a lot. A whole lot. Highlight of my week, lot. Monday, it was time for our  playoff game. Somewhere along the line, the team had realized that I was the youngest player, or at least the youngest male. I share that fact because it surprised me. I don't feel like I could be the youngest. Many times during the spring as I faced off against those ten or more years younger, it showed. The fun, the joy I feel at running around and snagging discs, though, that feels timeless. I felt young, younger, youngest out there.

Monday night, I came to play. I was nervous about my usual aches and I had blisters on both my palms. I wasn't sure how my body was going to do, but I was still ready to go. The game was pretty sloppy and subject to momentum shifts. Our team had trouble on offense and the stack was stagnating.

I may be the youngest on the team, but I'm far from the tallest. This worked in my favor. Instead of drawing the taller defenders, I got to pick on someone my own size when on offense. As the disc moved to one of our handlers with a penchant for hammers, I saw my opening. The disc moved to my side of the field, I was basically in the lane, but there was a clear, though rather long, path to the opposite corner of the end zone. I glanced at the handler with a look that could only mean, "look for the hammer" and I took off running. He didn't disappoint. He reared back and launched a hammer that nearly flew too far, but managed to sneak past the jumping defender and into my hands. It was quite satisfying.

Later, on the wrong end of a momentum shift, a play was called. The play was, get it to Will and huck it to Dave. As the disc moved to Will, I cut a few steps across the field and then took off to the forehand corner. The throw went up and began to slice back toward the middle of the field. I tracked it and once again had good fortune that my hands were especially sticky on this evening. Yes!

Nearly everything was working for me, although one big huck did get off endzone to endzone right through my straight up mark. Still, the cutting had gone well. I handled for a bit and felt like I was moving it well and had some nice up the line cuts, but things down field weren't developing. I was stuck and my dump was covered. The force was forehand and I wanted to get off a backhand dump. The count was at 8 when a second handler made an up the line cut. I didn't have time to adjust to my forehand so I just brought my backhand through and flipped it ahead. It was a fine mixture of creativity and desperation. It's not something that usually works out for me, but it did there.

I got a tipped disc, not quite a handblock, and threw a nice looping inside out for a score, but still we struggled as a team to pull it all together. I had my eye on a callahan, but that requires a fast twitch that seems to be missing from my game. We took half 7-6, but succumbed to the final momentum surge and lost 8-7. I'm proud of the way I played and proud of the way the team kept coming back. I don't understand entirely what it takes and means to win, not in a recreational league and not at higher levels, but I know that playing and battling meant a great deal. Playing well was a thrill and reliving it has carried me through the week.

There are questions about winning, losing, aging, and narcissism swirling inside me, but I think I'd rather day dream about chasing plastic and get ready to go again when summer league starts.

What does it all mean?

I played Ultimate yesterday. I rejoined my Team Schaefer and took the field on a 60-degree winter day.  It was 5 on 5 and the team we were playing had just crushed their previous opponent. Still they eyed us nervously. I looked at us, an aging hodge-podge of Ultimate players that I knew and didn't, and worried that perhaps we were being judged by past success.

I'm still not sure who was right. My body allowed me to play. I was tentative at times, and certainly out of shape, but I got to play. I got an early D. I handled a bit. I threw one away. I couldn't figure out where and when to cut, but still grabbed a few scores. The story lines look about the same as they always have. It's hard to judge a single sloppy game where most of the offense came from hucks and most of the defense came from body positioning and ill-advised throws. I handled more than I would have liked, but my cuts weren't that effective. I didn't get beat much on defense, but I wasn't scaring anybody either.

We won. We battled back from 10-12 to win 15-13. Somehow I expected a more triumphant return. I couldn't have expected it from my body. It's been neglected in all facets save flexibility. I shouldn't have expected it from the sidelines or the team. They were as present or not as they've always been.

One game may be one game. It's the accumulation that matters. As I stretch and massage and try to recover, I try not think about how challenging accumulation has become.

Thanks, body

Somehow, some way, my body answered my pleas, at least for the weekend. It might have been the sand or it might have been a miracle. I'd gone to Wildwood expecting only to play a few token points, but I managed to stay in the rotation in every game.

Although this was the seventh consecutive year I've been to the tournament, this year was full of changes. As we packed up to hit the road, the most glaring difference was in who wasn't coming. Alan and Megan were missing. It's been five years since that happened. The second difference was that there had been no last minute scramble to the thrift store to supplement a silly outfit. Instead, we donned crisp white jerseys. Tracie designed a hideous zombie hand holding an engagement ring. We were "Death Do Us Part" lovingly shortened to D-Dup. We were a celebration of beach, Ultimate, fun, and the upcoming nuptials of Jim and Tracie. And the undead.

Matts, Sam and I piled into Sam's swanky van with the automatic everything and hit the road. We stopped mere blocks away for some semi-fancy grub at Smith Commons. Later we worked our way into the traffic. There's always traffic. It should be on that list with death and taxes. Ben Franklin probably left it out because he had a side job with the Wildwood chamber of commerce. FACT. Or something resembling fact.

We arrived at the Bolero sometime well after Arin and Alan would usually be a few drinks past thirsty and howling at the moon. This year, that duo was not around; so we found a zillion Ultimate players hanging on every balcony of our hotel instead. I wondered what exactly we'd gotten ourselves into, but our suite turned out to have thicker walls than I'd imagined. Eight on Friday and nine on Sunday called the suite home. (Suite home).

Saturday morning, we found more changes afoot. The beach and boardwalk remained, but we were entered in the 2-2 beer division. It'd been years since I'd been in the beer division and I'd been clamoring for a try at 2-2 for almost as long. We faced off well against our opponents. We often led, but rarely by much. Tracie's friend Em was a sweet handler and lots of fun to play with.

Speaking of fun to play with, I had managed to convince Amanda to join us. We last played Ultimate together in Lawrence, Kansas in 2002. Nine years had passed and Amanda was awesomer than I remembered. I don't even think that's a word, but it doesn't matter. It felt pretty special to be able to take the field/sand with her again. I never would have guessed that our friendship would survive this long, but man, look at it sailing.

Kyle helped us with some sweet cheers and we turned to musical numbers that replaced "love" and "marriage" with "brains". Going to the chapel and we're gonna get BRAINS" or "brains and marriage, brains and marriage"

Despite our musical stylings, we won all 4 games on Saturday, but we lost Jim. He went down hard and broke his collar bone. Tracie put up a disc to him, he went after it, ran out of field, saw the wooden walkway to the ocean, dove over the walkway, and then came the writhing and the "I broke my fiancee" shout. A doctor, a nurse, and a fiancee all converged on Jim, but we still needed the EMTs.

Amanda lent us some help from Bawlmer and we closed out the day with victories. Natalie helped us focus on beer league with a bottle of tasty liquid, but most of us couldn't get our minds off the score. Nat just shook her head and went off to find someone with a more understanding palate. Later in the evening, a group of us meandered off boardwalk and finally discovered a splendid Italian restaurant. We savored it, conversation, wine, dessert, waitresses who told personal stories. The food and company were standing equal to the Ultimate.

Sunday, we were looking for help again, but soon decided to go with what we had. Stills was back in the mix and he was rested. The previous day, he'd had a nice layout from a floater from Jim, but on Sunday he had more giddy-up. His throws were crisper and we were looking good. Up 7-3, we hadn't turned the disc over, until I tested out a hammer. We got a little sloppy after that. Hopefully, I made up for it with a layout D. It was my only one this year. We looked great and cruised to victory.

Our semi-final battle would not be so easy. We were challenged at every spot. We made a few mistakes, one of them perhaps being in score-keeping. Down by 2, with the sounds of the closing horn in the air, we had to find a way to go full field for 2 points to tie. We hadn't scored a 2 all weekend. We hadn't even taken that many shots. The team we were playing was a bit taller, and had some really good players, but without the 2 we were bound to lose. Somehow they let me slide back to the end zone to catch a dump. I saw Matt B. working his way toward the endzone. I knew a flat throw would be dicey, so I put the disc outside in and hoped Matt would out read his man. The throw worked out perfectly. Matt dove for it as it was bending toward the back line and the defender didn't seem to have a chance.

We had a shot on universe point, but came up short. With no finals match-up, we ended up on the boardwalk as a team, eating pizza, and fried goods (Boardwalk Treats!), and in the go-karts. That felt like quite a prize.

That prize was nearly outdone by my three best of seven victories in the game of trees. Wildwood weekend is such a great weekend.

A month without Ultimate

I went to practice today. I didn't play. I tried to be supportive, helpful, and useful. I even wrote those three words on my hand to remind myself of my goals. In some degree, I think I managed to be that. What I didn't count on, but probably should have was how much I'd want to get out there and play.

Watching the disc fly through the air, sets my muscles to twitching. I want to run and jump and pluck discs out of the air. I went after a few because I couldn't help myself. Unfortunately, those plucks only served to remind me that I'm not yet healed and I may have a ways to go.

I've spent the month fairly well. Exercise has slipped a bit, but my reading has increased considerably and I've spent some time on other pursuits- biking, canoeing, even a bit of banjo picking. What I want though, is a return to Ultimate. I've got a week before Wildwood about 6 weeks before Sectionals. I'll probably go easy on the beach, but I need some good healing to happen in the next 6 weeks.

Please body, let me play.

Tough day for psoas, decent day for Ultimate

I didn't take time to work out much this past week and I may be paying the price. As my team, Casual Encounters, warmed up yesterday for our one day tournament in Catonsville, I could feel my psoas start to act out. I'd warmed up extra and I thought I was managing it, but yesterday it struck back early. When caught nursing my side with a pained look on my face, I confessed that I may not be quite as ready to play as usual. I could feel pain in my groin. Last time groin pain led to an inability to change direction. It's tough to compete in Ultimate without being able to change direction.

I worked on it on the sidelines as the first game started. I decided it was ok to play and got in a few points. For some reason, and I don't think it was my psoas, our offensive cutters were in the way of one another, me included. It was chaos and fairly frustrating. We still seemed to be hanging around in the game, but we never really challenged the other team. I think I managed to catch a deep score and float a score to Fox, but I don't remember much else beyond the cutting turmoil. My psoas didn't get worse.

Our second game was against the one seed and likely the sectional favorite- Grey. They are athletic and have good throws. I was told I would be mostly sitting in hopes that we could mount a stronger attack in the third game. We were getting beat soundly, but we were fighting hard. The offense started to clean up a bit and everyone was competing. I did manage to get in a few points and make some things happen. I took one cut deep and got a floaty huck from Bruce Wayne. My defender made up the ground on me and a help defender caught up as well. As the three of us ran to position ourselves for the slicing disc to come down, I'm told that my defender uncoiled and began to leap after the disc, but instead he slammed into his teammate. I took a few steps away from the pile and pulled down the score. I played some solid defense against a guy who was running all over the field. He didn't get the disc, but my teammates took delight in telling me that his approach was what it felt like covering me. I just said something to the effect of, "That's exhausting."

My play of the day that wasn't quite, happened late in this game on an in cut across the field. With my defender's hand almost on mine and some contact, I snagged a disc across my body and high with a step in bounds before being slammed to the ground. I popped up, to the surprise of my defender who thought he got the D, came back in bounds, pivoted and got fouled, had a zero stall count when I saw Gersh going deep. From the sideline I put up a beauty of a huck that went about 55 yards just out of bounds and with a slight outside in that managed to come back in bounds and just glanced off Gersh's outstretched hand. It's one of my best throws in recent memory.

I believe that was one of only two of my turnovers. The other was a short flick that floated a bit high on me and bounced off Heather's hand. I played less, but I still hope this is a start of a new trend.

The third game was another that we seemed in, but just weren't. Our defensive lines aren't scoring. We're just trading unforced (and sometimes forced) errors. I remember one point where it took us three chances to get into the end zone. We started to see some better handler movement in the third game. I had a decent offensive performance. I got one huck off the brick. My defender was in front of me and there was no help back, so I just took off. The offense seemed to be flowing better and there were a few points that we just marched right up the field. The only problem was that Hyperbole did the same to us. I did get at least one other deep grab. I was wide open and the disc was trailing away. I tracked it down in the back corner of the end zone and left the field fired up saying, "Come on! We can do what we want!" I really think that team is beatable, but we've got more to work on before we get there.

The fourth game was against a tired Dirty People team. Zone defenses were exchanged, but we eventually seemed to wear them down to get a win! By the end it felt like we were running them ragged. It was nice to get a win. That's only my second with the team. I'm looking forward to more. Hope my psoas agrees.

Driftwood

Vacation ended on Saturday, saving airline bucks, but also allowing me to play Ultimate on Sunday. I woke up at 5:30 AM, grabbed a zipcar and drove. Seat dancing was in full swing to keep me awake and driving. Traffic was really light, but it was raining, I was heading to the beach on the day most folks head home and it was really early.

The team seemed happy to see me. It was a changed team from Bell Crack. With about 15 people missing from the final roster, the team was just a third of its previous size. There was plenty of playing time to go around. I felt great. While everyone was dragging around their tired legs, my legs had been touring, floating through the sky, and now were fresh and ready to play.

I made a few mistakes early, even though I'd planned to protect the disc. I had an immediate drop as the dewy disc slid through my hands. I tossed away two dump throws, one because the handler wasn't in position yet and one because he wasn't headed where I expected. I tossed away two other throws that I really want back in that first game as well. I was excited and zipped them in. One was better than the other, but both were inside and overzealous.

We couldn't find a way to win, so the team went 3-4 on the weekend, but I was mostly proud of the way we were playing and it was nice to start to get a feel for what people like to do. I'm excited to keep that process going.

I had a few highlights that I'm proud of. I positioned myself on a floaty huck and came down with a grab. I had some help D's where I got to sky some ladies. My two best plays came in our last game though. I caught a huck and called time out. We set up an iso play to Karpo, but I couldn't find space I was happy with, so Andy, my current favorite handler wheeled around behind me for the dump. I flipped something a little too close to a push-pass to him and then headed up line on that force side. He sent me to the edge of the end zone, but I was able to plant my foot in bounds and make the grab before I stepped out.

The other play was also in the end zone. The vertical stack was a mess. The cutters weren't getting open, or when we did, we were still five yards out of the end zone. The handlers worked it and sometimes got it to a cutter, who flipped it back to them. It was the end of a hot day, so this seems like it went on for minutes. I made a force side cut from the back of the stack and had a little bit of daylight. My defender was close and pretty speedy. Bruce Wayne fired the disc at me. The defender was well positioned to make a play, but I was able to reach forward and grab the disc for the score. It was nice to get one of those. I feel like I'm on the end of that sort of thing a lot. Maybe it's more noticeable from the other end.

More Ultimate tales to come. I'm pretty pleased with how the season is going so far. Winning hasn't been the thing for a while now. I'd like to win, but it's fun to play, make new friends, and build something together. Meanwhile, the psoas seems to be holding out. I'm working out and massaging it quite regularly. It's been manageable and I hope it will stay that way.

For the non-sports fans, I may have a vacation recap rattling around in my head somewhere. Maybe I'll be able to squeeze it out.

Bell Crack

I’ve been to about 10 Ultimate tournaments in the past year, but other than Wildwood on the beach, I don’t know when I last traveled and stayed over night at a tournament I played. It felt odd at first to be at Bell Crack in PA. There were new faces and new names to learn. The setting felt familiar and yet I felt somehow out of place. It wasn’t one or two new names and faces either. It was more like 20. I’d picked up a few names at try-outs, but for the most part I am still learning.

On Saturday, we played like a team of strangers. There were a few moments where the team worked together, but a lot of moments where we looked lost and confused. Our results would reflect our struggle. We lost all three games and none were particularly close. Each contained pretty significant lapses where we fell behind. In two games, we were beaten by a star and a reasonable supporting cast. Individually we matched up pretty well, but overall we were failing. There is much room to grow.

The cup of our zone forced a floaty throwaway in one game that led to an easy Callahan. I was in the right place to make that score. The sidelines enjoyed it immensely. I handled a bit and was frustrated by two throwaways one to a popper in the cup that just seemed to be about confusion over the open space and one through the cup that was all about letting a backhand sail too high to a cross field handler. My favorite point on Saturday was also my most exhausting. One of my new teammates also played on a Rec league team I captained some time ago. I know he likes to huck. He knows I like to run. It works out well, sometimes. His first put in the zone was perfect, except that a speedy deep defender had more speed than we realized. By the time I knew that the defender was coming, I couldn’t adjust and we were back on defense. The second put was down the line, shorter, maybe 20-30 yards, but it didn’t come in bounds. It hovered a few feet out. I toed the line, laid out and tried to tap it over my shoulder on a greatest attempt. It wasn’t my greatest greatest attempt, I admit. Finally, we connected on a deep shot almost like the first one. This time the deep defender didn’t get there in time. I was fortunate that between at least one of these points, my opponent chose not to do much running because I was breathing heavily and trying to recover.

I think my experience with Andy from Rec league was helpful, because it allowed others to see me as a deep threat. I had a fair amount of success on the in-cuts as well and I felt like I was able to play some pretty good D, although I think my mark was lacking somewhat. Karpo called me “grease” for any offensive line, which was a nice compliment. I had a few more throwaways, maybe 6 in all, and I was D’d once on an in cut. That’s far too many turnovers, but I’m a little rusty. I feel like I’m not moving as well with the disc as I used to and I also thought that defenders were more likely to take away the lane. I need to work on exploiting that with break looks or dump movement. I did get off one huck that I was pretty pleased with, but it floated just a little too long and got knocked down.

On Day 2, I feel like my highs were higher and my lows were lower. I bid multiple times on Sunday on defense. On one I connected, but the disc spun up into the air and my receiver came down with it. Vowing to catch the next one, I all but had my hand around it and yet somehow the receiver still came up with it. I’ll have to work out those kinks.

My hamstrings were really sore all weekend, but especially on Sunday. My concern over my recurring psoas injury was also increasing. I had a sweet grab early on a disc trailing away from me. I grabbed the trailing edge and then turned and threw (a really shaky throw) for the score. I called a foul, but I’m not sure it was much of a foul. The defender laid out in front of me and hit my hand just a bit. I think I was startled as much as anything.

In the same point that my D failed, my offense left me too. Chasing down a floaty huck, I jumped too early once, recovered, and as I jumped a second time a woman from the other team flashed past. I took my eye off the disc and it bounced off my hands.

Obviously, I still have some work to do to get back up to game speed. I did catch our only game winner though. After a turn, I sprinted toward the end zone figuring Andy would put it. He hadn’t reached the disc, so I took off sprinting for the in cut, caught his eye, and changed direction. He floated a bender into space. I jumped up and grabbed it. It felt good to get a victory.

Two other cool moments: I spotted a college teammate and a former Schaefer teammate on the fields. It was a nice treat to see them both. More Ultimate to come.

Other things cooking (more Ultimate)

I've got about six things that I've been meaning to post. Let me give the short version here and see if I can find my way back.

1. Vibram Five Fingers- I bought a pair after serious (for me) shopping. I haven't run in them yet, but so far I'm pleased. I like the theory of minimalist running.

2. Paul's Boston success- I followed along on a combination of Twitter, Facebook, and alerts from the race itself. It was this weird collective but lonely experience. It reminded me of the Internet.

3. Conference for Habit- The men had an up and down tournament, but beat Navy twice, once in a wild nail biter where a 9-2 lead became a 9-8 lead, became a 12-8 lead, became a 15-13 victory. That was the third place game. It turned out 4 of the 6 teams went on to Regionals, but at the time we thought it was only going to be three. It was the first D-III Conference after the reorganization. I'm giving it mixed reviews with Regionals coming up this weekend.

4. Regionals for the women- I didn't get to watch, but they held seed in a tiny five team region with only one bid to Nationals. Injury and absence proved difficult, but I think lessons were learned.

5. Elections and awards for Habit. It was a wacky fun night, but the Andrew Stillerman freshman of the year award went to Rich and the newly created Tada Gan Irracht award went to Ben who would also be named captain. There were senior cakes, hilarious underclassmen awards, and good fun as well.

6. Some combination of regionals, trying out for a team, and what I feel about next year. I still want the job as Ultimate coach, but I'm wondering if I'm the right fit. More discussion and reflection (at least in real life) on that to come. Leaning toward a mid-level mixed team, but haven't fully committed.

More later. Maybe.

All Time again

I wanted to detail my thoughts around the all-time list a little more.

Alan was a force. His place seems relatively assured on this list for some time. He was a force on the field with HUGE throws to seemingly any point and he willed the team as far as he could take them. He made everyone better and was undoubtedly the reason that some people stuck around when times were lean. As you know, he's appeared many times on this blog and I'm biased because he's my good friend, but I don't think anyone could disagree with his spot on this list.

Jared was a grad student and already a club level player when he joined us. He was mainly a tournament player, but he had a solid all around game and a great mind for strategy. He is definitely deserving of a spot on the list.

The third handler position is a tough choice:

Scrapper- I never saw him play in college, but I met him soon after. He was a club level player or soon would be and his throws were improving to match his athleticism. From what I'm told he really helped the team in his years there and was often the offense. It's hard to tell where he belongs on this list, but it's hard to imagine leaving him off.

John T. - He was a reluctant leader, but he and his three pals were the ones who decided that they should cut ties with wafc and really start trying to play in the series and compete regularly with other schools. Not the most athletic of players, he was a gifted thrower and a trusted handler. His play and the way he elevated the team and made them compete makes him deserving of a place on this list.

Pete came from high school having played for several years. He had been a cutter, but we immediately made him a handler because he could throw. He was out of his comfort zone, but he held his own in a supporting role and we counted on him to do that. It never quite felt like we let Pete get comfortable, but the team was always better with him there. If I had to make a cut, he would probably be the one right now even though I'd hate to see his effort on defense go.

Many of our cutters have had some trouble throwing.

Arin was a playmaker. I'm not sure how he feels about Ultimate and he's probably the most incomplete player on this list, but if you needed something to happen, Arin made it happen through size, force, and will. It was awesome.

Lemon is a playmaker in his own way. He doesn't have the size of Arin, but he's got brains and speed. He's been slowed by injuries, but he plays as much as his body allows and maybe a little more. He's been the heart of the team for two years now and his hands have improved and he knows how to pick his spots. He needs to be able to throw better, but he definitely deserves a spot on the list.

Paul is only a sophomore, already a captain and an awesome athlete. He can huck it a mile, jump as high, and has speed to go with that. He's on this list and he's another who will remain for a long time. We're going to squeeze out some more leadership from him and help him raise the games of those around him, but he's an incredible individual player.

The 4th cutter grouping is hotly contested and would be a tough decision.
Karpo had speed and hands. He was Lemon before there was a Lemon. He couldn't do much throwing, but he chased them down regularly. His efforts on D were all out and he kept coming at you. He was the perfect complement to John and that class.

Stills was a scoring machine. He found ways to get open. His lefty flicks were a little scary, but he worked hard to get better and he was a great teammate when he wanted to be. His ability to find a whole in the zone was uncanny.

Jimmy is a dark horse in my mind, but he had excellent hands and could pick his spots, especially in zone. He did it with less speed, but a good field sense. His hard throws in college just about drove me mad though.

Alumni game number 4

I wanted to get this on my blog and in my record of memory. The alumni game was a success. I spent a lot of time taking pictures and flitting among old friends. Following is my post-game note and write up.

"Thanks again for making the 4th annual alumni game a success! Thanks especially to Mark K for his generous support of the BBQ. Thanks to Tini for hosting. And thanks to all those who helped to organize teams, cook brats, direct traffic, cheer, and wait patiently to play.

In a break from tradition, we played three round robin games with a mixture of alums, students and guests sharing the field and the teams. We saw some great highlights in those games which ended with each team 1 and 1. One particular stand out for me was the Brian Heller huck to a sliding, diving Law School Pat. Other great moments included Tim Crowley diving around the field, Jimmy DeMartini directing traffic, Lemon hucking, and Sean Dorsy holstering a biscuit. Turned out he was actually saving up for a chicken wing for the score later. That's more like the Dorsy we know.

Even with a BBQ looming, almost everyone wanted to keep playing so we undertook the traditional alums vs. current team game. Planning a shortened game to 9, the game picked up where we've left off in previous years. The alums started out moving the disc well and working well together. Some wondered if the warm-up games had been in the alums favor, but later they'd claim the games had tired them out. The alums took half 5-4 and it looked like this might be the year they'd break out of their slump. Sam was unstoppable underneath and Jim McMahon was diving all over the place to get some sweet D's, but he couldn't find anyone on the other end of his hucks.

The current team struck back quickly and re-established a lead. With a nod toward strategy, the alums pulled out a zone in the second half. It created a few turns, but the momentum had shifted. Frodo ran the offense and really had the alums talking on the sidelines. Jen tracked down some hucks. Then with some snappy disc movement and some forced hucks, the current team ran their record to 4-0 by taking the game 9-7.

At the BBQ the conversation shifted to an all-time all-Catholic team. It was a lively, friendly, and fun discussion and I'll hope you take it that way. Remember that the crowd skews younger with '02 or '03 being the earliest class represented. The rules of the All-Catholic team were spotty, but everyone did agree that only play at Catholic, not later development should be counted. With that in mind, the proposed all-time all-Catholic team looked like this.

The three handlers would be Alan J, Jared A, and either Pete W, John T, or Scrapper Woods.
The four cutters would be: Arin H, Andy "Lemon" , Paul G, and either Mike "Karpo" , or Andrew "Stills" . (Added: There was also some lobbying for Jimmy D and his good hands as a cutter.)

The important lesson in this for young players out there is that if you want to be considered for the all-time team, you should use your last name to create a nickname.

All in good fun! Thanks again to everyone. This is a fantastic tradition and I really appreciate your support!"

I found the all-time CUA team discussion to be particularly interesting, since I have/had seen the most players in action out of anybody. What I found really difficult was to compare the players who really never played together. It's so hard to tell if a player who carried the team in one year would have had that same effect in other years. How much did teammates have an effect? Even that question has two meanings. In some cases teammates surely made each other better, but in another context it also meant that a stand-out in one year might have been part of the crowd in another.

I think others had their own problems with this discussion too. Freshmen from four years ago had seniors that they looked up to and in some cases had seen evolve in the DC Ultimate scene. Karpo was initially named as one of the starting handlers until several others jumped in to say that in college he was barely allowed to throw.

I'm sure there are others who go back into the late '90s and early '00s and the early formation of the team that should be considered, but no one was at the game to champion them. There's been a pretty big shift in the game over those years and a shift on the support and interest of the university, so who knows?

It's a fun discussion.

Three point five thoughts from a full weekend

Last weekend I patrolled the sidelines of Steakfest '11. For a while I tried to update scores by smartphone, but eventually lost interest. The guys ended up in 14th place. They were troubled by only having 9 players and eventually losing their star to a hamstring pull in game 2 on Sunday. They had a 2-6 record, but one key victory in a crossover game to make it to the championship bracket. They beat Cornell-B and Ursinis and lost to Georgetown, Columbia (x2), TCNJ, and American. They narrowly missed upsetting Georgetown in the windy opening game. They had two shots on universe point and one of those bounced off Lemon's outstretched hands (See how close they came here .) The girls ended up in 2nd place, going 5-2 with both of their losses coming to TCNJ. John G. was patrolling their sidelines and got good reviews. The girls dominated a few games notching victories of 15-0 and 15-1 and from the bits I saw are really starting to play some Ultimate.

There is much I could comment on, including how proud of everybody I am, but there are a few moments that I'm going to record for posterity.

The first is about Ben. Ben is a transfer and he's our secret weapon. He's started to catch everything, he cuts well, and he just keeps getting better. He's got a little hitch in his throw and he doesn't commit to the dump the way I think he should (shocking, I know), but he's really helping out the team. After making another fine grab, Ben is five yards out of the endzone. The count gets to nine. Ben just decides to get rid of the disc. Somehow his flick comes out vertical. It's a blade. The blade strikes a defender in the noggin, bounces or rolls over the defender's head and is caught by a diving Cocco. It was pure wackiness.

The second is about spiking the disc. In the championship game, down something like 12-4 and feeling frustrated, Super Jess makes a deep cut. Knockout throws a nice flick down the line, Jess jumps up and grabs it. Score. She comes down and spikes it hard on the ground. It's a celebration, but there's some angst in there. The game is observed, so I think that's held off some of the ugliness, but there's still a clear distaste forming between these two teams. Next point, the girl from TCNJ makes a grab and spikes the disc in clear retaliation. For a second everyone stops. It's shock or confusion or some combination of the two. A little chatter starts and then what's been observed is reflected by the observer. TCNJ girl was not in the endzone. Turnover. The sidelines guffaw. It's inconsequential as far as the outcome of the game, but not a moment I want to soon forget.

My final note on Manheim, PA is to say that other than the RV in Dallas, I've never stayed closer to a field. We walked out of the hotel and onto the fields. We could see the fields from our room. I don't expect that luxury regularly, but how sweet it can be.

Now, I want to play. I want my shins to stop hurting. Let's go.

My fountain of youth makes it hard to walk

Decked out in neon green shorts and matching neon emblems on our chest, the Catholic team split in two for the first tournament of the semester. It was mixed, the only one on the schedule this year. We pulled in some alumni help and I strapped on my ankle brace and laced up my cleats. I'd been bothered by a shin splint all week, but at game time the pain was gone. That was a relief.

Dubbed team pretty, we had most of the handlers while the other team was team gawgeous and had most of the cutters. Gawgeous looked fast and explosive, but they were mostly without our star Paul as he's battling an injury. In this one day tourney, Gawgeous would be 2-2 in pool play and end up tied for 3rd overall with a nice performance from a couple rookies and strong leadership from Lemon and John. They had lots of hustle, including the exciting return of Senor Banjo in short spurts.

Team pretty got off to an ugly start. Our throws were off and our cuts just weren't coming. We were quickly and easily dispatched by one of the teams that would reach the championship. Our second game was better, but we still struggled in spurts with throwaways and the little big things like setting up cuts and using good fakes on throws. Pretty was joined by Jim and Kyle and both were big contributors to our success. Jim's forehand huck was our weapon of choice, but he also found some success with his backhand. I had a personal highlight in the second game as universe point rolled around. The other team had the disc on the goal line and was looking to score. I was on the mark and as the thrower released I yelled up just as the disc smacked into my hand. We went on to win the game. It was probably Ben who caught the score, though I don't remember for sure. Ben emerged as our favorite target coming down with lots of scores during the day.

It was fun to see Kyle and his amazing little-guy ups. I'd love to see him with bigger throws. For me as I was cutting deep for him, but also for him because I know he sees the field and reigns it in. Frodo continued to play well. The best part for me is to see him shake off mistakes. He had a couple rough ones: a dropped pull and a dump for a callahan, but he shook them off immediately and got right back to business. We were fighting some injuries on team pretty, but as our numbers dwindled a bit, we seemed to be clicking better.

The women played well. Jess is dominant and fun to watch. She skyed a guy and scored a number of times on up the line cuts with sweet little grabs. She forced a few hucks that worked in our favor too. The crowd loves her and she works hard. My only criticism is that when she meets her equal in speed, she ends up chasing on D. This is my recurring complaint about most of the team this year, so I shouldn't be too hard on her. This was Marian's first tournament and I was excited to see her get a score and a couple catches as a cutter. She's feisty and I get the sense that once she figures the game out she's really going to like it and contribute. I hope that can happen within this semester.

Back to me, it's my blog. The fields were short and the competition sometimes shoddy, but I had a good time. I got frustrated and tired at times, but Ultimate is good. I loved pulling down deep puts from Jim and I felt like my deep puts were having more success than usual. I had one or two bad drops and five or six bad throwaways, but I also had a couple grabs that I'm really proud of. They felt well timed. Overall it was a good day. That's what it's all about. I think because I knew alumni were around and playing, I never let that feeling of not belonging creep in. It's pretty awesome to still be a part of Catholic Ultimate. The drama has been high at times this year, but days like yesterday make that easy to forget. We ended up fifth, dominating a game to 5 as the sun was setting. Thanks, Catholic.