Tying together Ultimate and New Year's Resolutions. Finally.
About three weeks ago, Ultimate failed me or I took part in its failure. Sometimes, it’s hard to tell which. It was a global-warming is coming hard kind of day, a thermometer-checking sweat-drenched shirt June day in April. We had a double-header scheduled and ample subs. We must have suited up in our lead boots. The other team was wearing their aluminum shoes. Few times in my life have I seen so little enthusiasm for a game of Ultimate. My team played without trust or enthusiasm. The other team played just well enough to beat us. We politely spoke in the huddle of pulling ourselves together, but there was nothing. No one could stir us up and lead us. I made a few feeble attempts, but was squashed for being reluctant. My failures were our failures. We took to ill-advised hucks after our half-hearted in cuts failed us. The other teams were far more talented in the air, but we still clung to a strategy that doomed us. I know that now in hindsight, but I couldn’t see it in the haze of the day.

I left bitter and dejected. I left ready to put my Ultimate playing career mostly in the rearview mirror. That’s a bad day. We improved the next week under more familiar leadership, winning a game against a team that expected to beat us. I miffed a gorgeous hammer that practically landed in my hand as I ran down the field in a full sprint, but otherwise played reasonably well, even breaking the mark with a flick and playing acceptable containment defense. The win felt good, but I still felt a little bruised and beaten. This is where I admit that while I love the team aspect of Ultimate, sometimes my own ego gets in the way. It’s great to be a cog in a machine, but sometimes I want to be a bright shiny cog that gets noticed. I try to control it, but sometimes that need still seeps out.

This past week as I rode my bike down from the suburbs to the site of our previous failure, I mentally prepared myself. It wasn’t as hot and muggy, but I wasn’t going to come out lethargic and I wanted to do a better job at picking the team up as best I could. I gave myself a little pep talk and came ready to play. I took a few hits early when my mark got broken, but I came out with some intensity. I did my best not to let my spirits fall. I stayed engaged on the sidelines. I looked to make the most of my points. After the team’s rough start, we began to battle back. I found myself in a nice battle with a very good player on the other team. We were going back and forth. I couldn’t manufacture any D’s, but I was close enough to cause some errant throws. The team as a whole still had trouble cutting and gelling, but at least we had some fight in us this time around. After one turn, we moved the disc up the field and I found myself marked in a three on two situation. I cocked back and threw up a hammer for a score. It was a nice surprise. The bigger surprise for me was when I turned to the sidelines and gestured for them to get fired up. We closed the gap to 1 point, but then couldn’t find our way. I begged off on one zone point. Then with the game on the line, we played zone again. I was short deep and I really think I blew it. I wasn’t following the poppers all the way into the cup and they were moving the disc. When we switched to man, I bit on a fake and watched my guy throw for a score. I guess I had a rough start and a rough finish, but overall I was pleased with the effort.

I’m not as proud of my post-game reaction. I grabbed my hat and flung it into the air as I announced, “Zone is for old people,” in frustration. The real frustration was with my failure, but instead of accepting that I blamed the scheme. I was able to turn the tide on intensity, now I need to shift my thinking on my reactions. I think that was one of my New Year’s Resolutions. Looks like there is still work to be done. Ultimate and I didn't fail each other at all. We just opened up an area for new lessons.