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!
