Sunday, November 18

Nationals, Day 4

That's odd.

I could've sworn that when I went to sleep I was fully clothed. I mean, I'm not just wearin' what I came into the world with, but I remember having a shirt. A warm one. This shivering might not be going on if I had a damn shirt on.

What's more, there's no sign of the shirt around. Not near the bed. Speaking of which, where the hell are the covers? They too could fill the vacant position of "thing keeping me warm." I wouldn't ask for a resume or a CV or nuthin. I'd hire 'em on the spot. The interview would be easy too:

"Alright, object, one question. Are you something that could keep me warm?"

Armed with this handy question, I got up in search of an object that could give me an affirmative answer. My first thought was to find the sheets and blanket. My second was to go to the hot tub and chill out there for a while. Then, as I looked around the condo asking various objects this question (or more accurately, I was asking my conceptions of the objects that question and answering for them in my head), a familiar object answered with a firm affirmative.

Oh coffee machine, thank you for always being there for me.

Got a pot going and sat down for a moment. Running some things over in my head about the previous night, I knew that there would be tales told today. Many of them. Some might even involve me. Then again, I haven't yet pulled back the alcoholic haze to make the memories from the previous night clear. And that's a task that requires good, strong coffee. And the Total Hangover Cure.

As I drank the first glorious cup of the thick black stuff, I realized that I most certainly needed nourishment after whatever happened last night. And hell yes, we bought enough eggs. We also still had some cheese and some peppers and veggies about the house. Time for a favorite drunken beach-vacation morning favorite: Scrambled eggs with whatever other shit you've got lying around in them.

Butter up the pan, drop it all in (some cut into smaller bits) including the eggs and just keep scramblin' and adding spices/salt/pepper until it seems done. As I completed this process and downed the coffee, the rest of the condo started getting up. This is, in part, because those bitches went to sleep and never rallied. I, on the other hand, am just a morning person. Some people like sunsets. I'm one of them. But I love sunrises in a whole other way. The morning always holds so much promise. So many paths the day could take. Every morning is, for me, infinity. Just a phenomenal feeling when I stop and accept it.

As the others in the condo arose, we exchanged the usual morning things. Jamie's hand really hurt. He was wrestling Eddie Peters at some point. My feet hurt from many long dumb walks. Jamie's teenaged girlfriend had hung out with some Masters players because Jamie isn't old enough for her. Dan Yi was just a mess. Jamie had broken a bottle to get the party started in at least one room. Mio's face hurt. He had been sleeping on the cold tiles near the hot tub.

Jamie: Oh yeah, I remember you going out there.
Mio: Yeah, I was looking for something cold because I was fucked up on that Khaos.
J: We came looking for you because we didn't know what had happened.
M: Did you?
J: Yeah.
M: ...
J: ...
M: Wait a second.
J: Yeah?
M: You punched me in the face!
J: Oh shit! I did!
M: That was crazy.
J: You needed it.
M: That's true. I did.


So, apparently late in the evening after the wrestling and broken bottles, Mio had become overwhelmed by the Khaos. He wandered away from the group to find a cold place to lay down. He pressed his face against the cold tiles near the pool and stayed there. Jamie found him later. This was the exchange:

J: Mio, what're you doing?
[Mio rolls over and looks up at Jamie]
M: I'm laying here on the cold tiles because I feel like I'm gonna puke.
J: No you're not.
[Jamie punches Mio in the face and slaps him]
M: OW, DOG!!! You punched me in the fucking face!!
J: But you're not going to puke, right?
M: No... I don't feel like puking now. Thanks!


Unbelievable. Jamie has been involved in many face-punching incidents with the ultimate crowd. Actually, the other 2 or 3 all involved Paul, a fellow Santa Cruz alum. They didn't know each other in college (not there at the same time) but looking back, I wish that they had. Those would've been some stories to tell! Now, they just see each other, have good times and punch each other in the face. As people do.

The eggs were pretty solid, the coffee was excellent. We cleaned up the place and chatted about the evening. Then we headed to the fields to watch some ultimate. The women's final was about over when we got there. We see Fury close it out. Dan Yi establishes a strong early presence in the beer garden. They announce a bunch of stuff about the women's champion and Worlds and all of that. There was some cheering during this.

Eventually, I sat down at the pavilion or whatever that thing is called. Shade. Nice. At some point Geoff Buhl pulled up some pine as well. Another Condors fella as well. I think it might have been the tall guy (Ryan?) who used to play at Princeton. Then again, that guy may not actually be on the Condors. I'm not sure.

I settled in to watch the men's final. I won't bother with a bit by bit recap, you should just watch it for yourself on UVTV. What I will say is that the team strategies are interesting to compare, especially in the wind. That's the one thing that isn't really captured on the video. (How could it be???) The wind was gusty. It definitely affected throws, catches, decisions and large-level strategy. I was pretty sure that Sockeye would take this one despite Bravo keeping it close. Experience is a big factor, and the strategic choices that Sockeye makes seem to give them consistency from game to game. Bravo's strategic game seems to lend itself more to runs for both teams. I was definitely doubting my prediction when Bravo took half. I knew that neither team would run away with it or anything, but I thought for a moment that Boulder might win a tight one. Not to be.

It was a pretty fun game to watch, probably because it was a little messy due to the wind. Brutally efficient offense isn't near as much fun for spectators and calm conditions tend to result in that type of game.

And then there was the spirit award. Got up with all of the other individual nominees and got a little medal, some beads, a beer, a fuzzy 5ultimate spirit hat, a disc and a pin. Pretty cool. Had to smile for pictures and all as well. Karl Doege? Also a spirit winner. And Hinkle. And some others. We all looked good, of course, because, well, we're us.

Now I've got a fuzzy spirit hat.

Pawned Jamie's early-flight-takin-ass off on someone else. Then Mio disappeared. So too did Dan Yi. All of the sudden, I was on the way to the airport by myself...

"This is the way the [season] ends."

12 comments:

Danny Karlinsky said...

Ah..Jamie and his punches. Is his knuckle recovered from his wrestling match in college where he broke it punching a wall?

Oh and glad you had a good time.
I'm going to go cry now.

dusty.rhodes said...

"always something there to remind me"

Good luck with the slugs.

His knuckle and finger are most certainly not recovered. Only his finger can do the Jamie-wiggle. It's creepy.

J said...

Jamie punching Mio repeatedly was definitely good fun for all, but he eventually grew weary of it as Mio was completely unable to defend himself in any way. This turned out to be great for the fans, because Jamie went in search of a worthier adversary.

First he went after Weez, who just shoved him back into the hot tub. Then, he started eying me up. I told him not to fuck with me and for some reason, he listened. At this point, Eddie jumped in the pool and offered to be fucked with.

Eddie vs Jamie in the ultimate, no holds barred, giant hot tub, slap punching battle royale. This was the best live entertainment I've seen in quite some time. It basically consisted of this: Jamie enters Eddie's (much longer and more sober) wing span for a second and gets clocked upside the head. Repeat for 10 minutes.

After 10 minutes of getting slapped around, Jamie changes tactics and dives under the water and wraps himself around Eddie's tree-trunk sized legs. The water began frothing and bubbling and struggling parts of Jamie briefly appeared above the surface of the pool, but all we spectators saw was Eddie, standing nonchalantly in the pool, giggling maniacally and not really moving much at all. 30 seconds would go by, Jamie would re-surface, get slapped, and dive for Eddie's legs again. Eddie would stand there, stoic and immobile and laugh at Jamie.

Finally, bruised, battered and half-drowned, Jamie stopped his attacks on Eddie and returned to easier prey (read: he began punching Mio in the face again).

This was all going swimmingly until Ranger Dick showed up in his golf cart and threw us out of the hot tub, all the while shouting 'rotten kids!' and 'the cops are at the beach right now, but they'll be along any minute to bust you punks!' and other such impotent threats.

Other fun stuff happened, like Jamie's teenage girlfriend lying down in the street and refusing to move, despite the threat of death-by-traffic, or we go to Jamie's room in search of beer, I find beer and turn around to discover Jamie, Mio, and teenage girlfriend have all gone to bed and left me alone with Dusty (sleeping on the couch-bed at this point).

Wait ... that wasn't fun!

dusty.rhodes said...

I figured that i wasn't the right guy to tell that particular story... but I like it.

Man, I woke up right after you left. I just needed to recharge. I don't boot n rally. I nap n rally.

So YOU took my beer!

J said...

Well, if warm Tecate counts as beer, then yes I did.

Having carefully observed Jamie and Mio in their inebriated state, I've devised an new way to divide teams (OK, it's just a variation on and old theme): Drunk Good vs. Drunk Evil

Interestingly enough, Evil Mio becomes Good when drunk, whereas Good Jamie becomes decidedly Evil.

dusty.rhodes said...

you say that as if tecate has any proper state aside from "warm."

violent drunks vs happy drunks?

Damn. I think I'm on the happy side. Only because there isn't a column for "cat-like." As in, I want to sleep or play games when I'm drinking.

Much like Dan Yi's 3(?) states of being:

MEAT
SLEEP
GAMES

I think there may be a fourth, but I can't recall it at the moment. I similarly can't recall if it actually exists. In any case, all of Dan Yi's actions when looked at using this paradigm make much more sense. And are significantly more entertaining.

Anonymous said...

That fourth state wouldn't be practice.
We talkin bout practice!

J said...

Clearly, Dan Yi's 4th state is Misfortune. Or maybe it's Poetic Justice, since he almost always brings it down on himself.

Anonymous said...

I have a feeling that I've developed a nickname that isn't going away anytime soon, even after I officially leave the 'teenage' years.
Thanks for reminding me about those Masters players too. You're right Dusty, Jamie's not old enough for me.
-teenage girlfriend

dusty.rhodes said...

It's a fantastic nickname. Just embrace it.

Anonymous said...

Well on that note, thank you. Everyone loves a good nickname.

dusty.rhodes said...

Much better, Jamie's Teenege Girlfriend. Or should I call you... ANONYMOUS??????