you and i,
the observer and the observered.
The doer and the doee
The inimitable system
Of best worst
Versus
Worst best.
Now it means something becaue of all the times
I've been to the festival of the weekend
Of the disc.
We play our roles an fill our squads
Sometimes we're the overdog
Sometimes we can't finish the door.
All there is is who we represent ourselves as.
Who we see our opponents as
Who we dream we're
Dreaming ourselves as.
Are you the hero?
The villain,
The butler
(He Butles!)
The janitor?
Do you clean up the the mess?
Make it appear ordered,
Cause it to appear,
Fail to prevent it?
Precisely the way
You said you wouldn't
We always fail
To be different.
The tales of conquest
The myth of winning
The death of losing.
We are who we are.
We commit atrocities
for our dreams.
We give it up
for our teams.
---
What is the reflexive nature
Of what we do?
What of the referential,
The infinitely intricate?
Heavens,
The SELF-Referential?
The deferential?
The slot you fit into?
Who are you with this team,
With that team?
How different than with
The world?
---
The representations we project and see
After all of the TV training we've had?
All of the video games?
All of the fantasies?
The dreams?
The fixation of living
While painless
While dreaming
Permeating even ourselves.
Does ultimate hurt?
Could it be bad for you?
Does it matter?
I still like to win.
Oh well, at Fools
We didn't.
At Kaimana
We didn't.
But I played,
And didn't totally
Suck.
Not just yet.
Maybe I'll finish the posts for meh?
I lost in the Ro-sham
(Spell it how you like it,
I've got him next time).
I think.
Monday, April 11
I never thought we were that different
Friday, February 25
KK24 pt 1.
With a self-imposed media blackout on KK23 lifted,
we'll probably ramble from year to year in this post.
Although, not necessarily. The problem is more that I can't tell the years apart any longer. Though, I can tell the shirts apart: Last year? Inexplicably heavyweight green 5ultimate jerseys that were too large for everyone. This year? Inexplicably "stuck in customs" blue VCUltimate jerseys. I still haven't seen them. I thought the mock-ups were sweet.
We (Amy and I) went to Maui on Feb 7. We did things like take the Road to Hana, attend an open bar luau (and activate our tourist/cultural second guessing), break fast at Kihei Caffe, drink literally over a gallon of maitai during happy hour at Life's a Beach, camp at Hosmer's Grove, see sunrise(s)/sunset at Haleakala, hike along coastal lava trails, drink Maui Rum, camp at Waianapanapa State Park, go to Kaihalulu (red sand), Hamoa (grae sand), Waianapanapa (black sand), Koki (chocolate sand) and other beaches (forgive my not using semicolon/comma correctness), find somewhat hidden beaches, watch college basketball at 9am, drive from Hana to Kipahulu IN THE DARK, listen to Johnny Depp y otro bloke read Keif Richards, visit surfing goats, drink too much Maui coffee, blame Laird, hike in the not-a-crater, drink white wine w/ poke, make citrus-multi-rum punch, eat macadamia nuts like nuts, meet Glenn the CocoNut, drink lots of Maui Brewco Beer (CoConut Porter is the tops, Big Swell is decent, Bikini Blonde is solid but is a Helles Lager... so there isn't much to say), drink Grandma's Coffee, and more.
At some point (Wednesday?) we realized we had to get to Oahu. Then we had to pick up some co-conspirators (Namely Mr. Contarsy and Crider) in Honolulu. We drank kava, and then hit the town to drink "real drinks" until Philthy and Phine joined us. Something about Maddog's was all wrong, but so much was alright. Then the long walk home. The next day (Friday) we exactly didn't get to the Arizona Memorial (mostly my fault), but exactly did get to the Kona Brewpub just as the 88 high school(!) kids showed up on a band trip. Seriously, who goes to a brew pub as a part of a High School band trip? I hope you enjoyed the rootbeer, fuckers. And our seats. We saw lotsa sluglums (incl Philthy deserters TP&Busty), parts of Philthy and Phine, and learned that our crew of 4 Escapees would grow to 6 as Crider recovered her roommate "Gunshow" and pal Taryn (of Smoke Fire Higher Lower) from HNL while Brandon drank every beer on the menu (over 16 beers, for sure) and I had much stout and barleywine. The cardrive was left to the sobershow as the backseat had bourbon.
This is where the night turned. We got to the place, set up the tent, broke my sandals via walking, had more beer, failed to register, and...? Sounds like a standard Friday night at Kaimana to me!
(pt 2 in the future. including the consequences for m/your actions.)
Thursday, March 12
Kaimana 2
"Don't worry, only the finalists don't get poke. We're covered for lunch."
Game 1: Sanban
Sanban was far more warmed up than Pilthy. This, at 11:30, was our first game of the day so we countered their advantage by sleeping late. Some of us got there early enough to get our legs warmed up. Some of us went to the ocean and contemplated the infinitude of waves (water, sun and wind) crashing down upon Waimanalo over forever and infinity over again.
Sanban's sneakyquick IO looks combined with and their hucks of different angles/timings than we were prepared for gave them a bit of advantage mentally early, theough they did not capitalize consistently on our mental mistakes. Our key in this game was to keep the pace up on O AND D and maintain our controlled physicality. That is, we weren't all faster than them, but we play physically, and we weren't slower than them. We also, to a man, outweigh them. Eventually they have some lapses under our consistent pressure. As they slow down a little in the second half, we put the pedal to the metal and rely on Godzilla in a change-up defense. Win, Philthy.
"Come to Kaimana, get international caps."
I'm now 2-0 against Japan with at least one bewildering but friendly bilungual foul-call discussion in each. Sweet. My brother's Big In Japan. Speaking of which, we thought Thoughts was Philthy.
We were misinformed.
Game 2: Ono
We played terribly against Ono. They might say they caused it. I would say they caused about 40% of it, and we caused the balance. That game blew for everyone.
Either way, the Sanban win secured us a quarters spot against a team to be named later. The team to be named later (So called, though I imagine they picked the name a while ago): The Southern Dandys. Headed by Kid and reaching back into ultimate today and yesterday for players.
To be clear, it is unclear what happened that night aside from Philthy Survivor Flipcup. This was good or bad. I recall recalling, however, that Lonestar carried on the tradition of "underachieving team sitting around all day suckering unsuspecting folks into playing ace-to-the-face." Which everyone on Philthy would like to thank them for. It is a dirty game, but someone has to play it.
Game 1, Quarters v Southern Dandys.
Tim 'lost' the flip to The Count for shirt color with the Count looking very pleased with himself. Also, Luke can say now he D'ed me. I threw a blade right to him in their 1-3-X look ~3 points into the game. Well, at least we didn't waste energy on defense that point.
I was reminded early in this one how much of an advantage these monkey arms are. You can teach speed, but you can't teach length. (That's what she said.) Arms also don't get shorter over the course of the tournament, no matter how well you revel. One nice rip off in this one, but it came back on a travel on the guy who threw it to me. They called a lot of travels. I suspect were traveling a lot.
"2-0 vs jerks who made us go non-pinstripes."
Game 2, Semis v Voltron.
They don't, apparently, appreciate references to their team namesake as much as we'd hoped. Or perhaps we wielded encyclopaedic cartoon knowledge while they had the goddamn Sword of Voltron.
They also didn't let us score as much as we'd hoped. Nor did we, ourselves, let ourselves score as much as I'd hoped. Really, the funny thing about ultimate is that you're just playing catch/monkey-in-the-middle with the general intention of moving down the field. If you can't play catch, you can't win. We didn't, and we didn't.
"I'll form the Head."
Well, they didn't in Finals. Ono slapped Voltron around like a delicious fish-slapping dance do. While Toonsky watched (A joker, on the sidelines...), the crowd ate poke and paradise... paradised.
Some goodbyes sadly said, and another Kaimana in the books. Until next year, when you'll find us at the Kona Brewing Co. to start it off on Friday.
----
(Kaimana Preface)
(Kaimana 1)
Read More......
Kaimana 1
(Front: Rob, dusty, Tim, Jamie, Butter, Furf, Jimmy)
Semis? That's not too shabby. We played some terrible games and lost, some medium games and won some, some good/great games and won.
10/12ths of our team smiled in the picture (see above).
2/12ths of our team+1 were in a fender bender due to "kids in a bike in a field across the road who later pointed and laughed at our dented bumper... And rightfully so." The American Dream was rumored, at the time, to've had a beverage here man. But not the driver. Who wasn't driving.
3/12ths+3 of our team spent the pre-KK22 week in Kaua'i. BeautifulGreen. I still prefer the Big Island's massive views, but this place was right in its own right. The glass sand beach is strange enough to have been compared to a marketing gimmick of the highest order (as a compliment) by Poppa Bear while not wearing his hair in JayBay-coined "L.A. Douche Bag style."
Waimea Canyon: Virtual Infinitude of roosters.
Kalaheo Coffee Co. & Cafe: Breakfast.
Kalalau Trail (Na Pali Coast): Difficult at night.
Hanakapi'ai Falls: Worth the hike.
Koke'e Park: Hike-n-sleep w/ Full Moon.
Hanalei Bay: Nice, quiet little beach community replete w/ real reactionaries.
Ninini Point: Sweeeeet.
Po'ipu: Sunsets.
Princeville: Unreasonably inflated gas prices.
Any Fresh Fish Market: Buy poke. Drink White Wine. Repeat.
9/12ths+8 of our team went to a beachhouse on the North Shore post-KK22. Edward PairedPseudoSub-40hands, Caserace pilots, "Shu, shu-shu, shu-shu-shu-shu [BUTTER!]," beaches, cliff-jumping, sunrises, beers, hangover cures, kegs-n-eggs, drinking asshole, shooting the moon many times (and still-owed drinks), making ice-blended drinks out of whatever, too many hamburgs/hoddogs not enough poke/seafood, and so forth. Good times with folks from Philly I don't see often enough.
?/12ths +? of our team then went to Maui. Some Philthy/Phine/S.Dandys rumored to convene upon and/or win local hat tournament. Fun times, but I didn't make it this year. The expense-approval dept. doesn't appreciate the new $15 per bag convenience fees charged to the working press's line of credit to pad ledgers at failing airlines everywhere.
Anyway, snap back to reality.
We write about ultimate, right?
Game 1: the Stanford.
The college team. They had some runners and a couple clearly more experienced players. I'm assuming that this is not their full college team because we beat them pretty easily in the end. They could have beaten us-- we played very averagely in this game-- but they didn't. There were good individual plays on both sides. Good teamwork on the whole on the part of the Stanford.
Game 2: Skeletor.
Joined by one-time Philthy codefendant Toonsky, Skeletor remained skeletal. Toonsky, after passing on his chance to hitch his wagon to a PHILTHYstar, faded into obscurity by later joining a third team (Voltron) which didn't also win the tournament. This was after Skeletor and the Stanford later became one team after The Pulse got stung by a scorpion. Or sprained his ankle. What I'm trying to say is that the guy was a lopsided Hopalong Cassidy when we played the Stanford.
As Skeletor can confirm, Philthy did not play well in this game. Whether this lack of goodness was due to them or us is up for debate: I would say mostly us, they might say them. We lost by one.
"Kevin Der says hi."
"Nice! He should be here to tell me his own damn self."
Game 3: Bag-O-Wine
Game played during a box of rain (and wind). They ran some zones that we busted by mixing deep strikes and quick movement. Their man D, though very tight/aggressive, had consistent weaknesses. Their offense started out not turning it. Then their offense started and continued to turn it. And we kept scoring... eventually. We started to nail down the correct pace as a team (downfield and behind the disc) during this one. Timing works both ways in ultimate-- from handler to cutter and from cutter to handler.
(...much of the difference between positions is due to the importance of a player's throws on the run v. a player's throws on an established pivot...
...a better handler than a cutter, for example, reads the field before catching the disc and moves the disc before...
...primary cutters get in-cuts and then turn upfield to assess predetermined flight paths...
...[3rd?]...)
Game 4: Aloha Spirit Team.
The opposition included some more familiar faces. We got this win too, though there were some ridiculous(ly exciting?) deep throws on both sides.
Sweet. 3-1 is rarely a bad day.
Simultaneous to our Aloha Spirit game, as I learned later, the Stanford beat Skeletor (Which gave the Stanford sufficient confidence to bail on the power pool and combine with Skeletor to form "Some super loser team"* as Philthy Santa Cruz alums informed me) which made us #1 in the pool and the Stanford #2. On Day 2, after another first round bye, we would crossover with Ono and Sanban, the Japanese team.**
The night included much cross-cultural exchange.
That night, the Stanford was unable to sing American Pie. Unacceptable this tight to the anniversary of the day the music died. Will should cut each and every one of you.
----
* - Unlike Voltron, which combined to form some super loser team without the blazing sword of their namesake. Else they would have dispatched Team UPS in the finals circa 1/3rd of the way after the third commercial break.
**- Which, now that I think about it, might mean that we played one more game than everyone else in our power pool, and that everyone in our power pool made the semis which all sounds perfect to me.
----
(Kaimana Preface)
(Kaimana 2)
Read More......
Friday, March 6
Kaimana Preface
This year's Kaimana (#22, in standard linear time) left me with a tripartite memento numquam mori.
Once I've had the editorial board... editorially board it, we'll get it out there on the internet in a serial format. (Yes. You'll need to buy "a cereal for Matt", which will contain, as a prize, the story broken into three parts which, when read [though not when blue] in [any] order produce a particular journey for the reader.) Possibly with some pics here and there, once we get the photography department up and running. Er, sifting. (Er, photography departmenting.) If they were running, it would be difficult for them to attend to the task at hand. Which is the one for which they were conscripted. Er, hired. Up and running? What with the sweating and all? What with the...
Babbling and all.
I'll non-segue to this list of Artist – Album(s)/"Tune(s)"+(“Tune(s) of particular import”) which comprise the 2009 PhilthyKaua'i aural experience. Done with ado:
Aesop Rock – "The Harbor is Yours"
Allman Bros – from At Fillmore East, Brothers and Sisters, Eat a Peach and Idlewild South
Atmosphere – When Life Gives You Lemons, You Paint That Shit Gold ("Like the Rest of Us" and "Wild Wild Horses")
Blackalicious – "40oz for Breakfast" and "First in Flight"
Bob Marley – Live!
Boukman Eksperyans – Kalfou Danjere
Brian Eno & David Byrne – Everything that Happens Happens Today
Brian Wilson – from That Lucky Old Sun
Cage – "Shoot Frank"
Calexico – "Victor Jara's Hands"
Cee-Lo Green – from Cee-Lo Green... is the Soul Machine ("Die Trying")
Common Market – from Tobacco Road ("Nina Sing (feat Funklove)", "Gol'Dust" and "Certitude (feat Chev)")
Curtis Mayfield – from Roots and Superfly
Cut Copy – from In Ghost Colours ("Hearts on Fire")
Damian Marley – from Welcome to Jamrock
DANGERDOOM – from The Mouse and the Mask
Deltron 3030 – from Deltron 3030 ("Positive Contact")
Depeche Mode –"Only When I Lose Myself (Gus Gus Short Play Mix)"
Desmond Dekker – "Shanty Town"
Dire Straits – "Desperado"
Dizzy Gillespie – Afro-Cuban Jazz Moods
DJ Krush & Toshinori Kondo – "Sun is Shining"
DJ Shadow – "Intro" from High Noon single
Elmore James – from King of the Slide Guitar ("Done Somebody Wrong" & "One Way Out")
Erykah Badu – from Mama's Gun
Fleet Foxes – from Fleet Foxes and Sun Giant EP ("Mykanos" "Sun Giant")
Gang Gang Dance – "Blue Nile"
Grateful Dead – "Saturday Night" (Steppin' Out w/ the G.D.)
Grip Grand – from Brokelore
Heiruspecs – from A Tiger Dancing
Hercules and Love Affair – from Hercules and Love Affair ("True/false, fake/real")
Hi-Tek – from Hi-Teknology ("The Sun God feat Common & Vinia Mojica")
Iron and Wine – from The Shepherd's Dog
James Blunt – "1973" and "I'll Take Everything"
James Brown – from Soul Pride 1960-1969 and Star Time ("Grits" and "Tighten Up")
Jay-Z – "I Know"
Jaydiohead – "Dirt off Your Android"
Jean Grae – "Love Thirst"
Jerry Jeff Walker – "Gypsy Songman"
The Jimi Hendrix Experience – from Electric Ladyland
Jim O'Rourke – "Ghost Ship in a Storm"
Jimmy Cliff – from The Harder They Come
John Lee Hooker – from Live at the Café au Go-Go (and Soledad Prison)
John Legend – "Alright"
John Lennon – from Anthology (Disc 2: New York City)
Johnny Nash – "I Can See Clearly Now"
K-Os – from Atlantis - Hymns for Disco
Kings of Leon – from Because of the Times and Only by the Night
Krayzie Bone – "Rolling Up Some Mo'"
Lauryn Hill – from The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill
Madvillain – from Madvillainy
Marcelo D2 – from A Procura da Batida Perfeita and Meu Samba é Assim
Max Tundra – "Number Our Days"
Michael Jackson – "Billie Jean"
Mos Def – "Umi Says (Zero 7 Mix)"
Murs – Murs for President ("Everything" "The Science" and "Road is My Religion")
Neil Young – "Walk On"
The Neville Bros – from Live at Tipitina's (disc 1)
Okkervil River – from The Stage Names ("John Allyn Smith Sails")
Phish – from Rift and The Story of the Ghost
Prefuze 73 – from Vocal Studies + Uprock Narratives
The Raconteurs – from Consolers of the Lonely
RJD2 – from Loose Ends and Since We Last Spoke
Rolling Stones – from Exile on Main Street
Royksopp – from Melody AM+remixes
Santogold – from Santogold and Top Ranking
Seu Jorge – from The Life Aquatic Studio Sessions
Slickers – "Johnny Too Bad"
Soulive – "Bridge to Bama (Hi-Tek mix feat. Talib Kweli)"
Souls of Mischief – "'93 'Til Infinity"
Squarepusher – "My Sound"
Steely Dan– from Citizen
Tahiti 80 – "Heartbeat"
Talking Heads – "(Nothing but) Flowers" and "Burning Down the House"
The Tallest Man on Earth – from Shallow Grave
Tinariwen – from Aman Iman: Water is Life
Tito & Tarantula – "Back to the House that Love Built"
Tom Petty – from Wildflowers
Traffic – "Light Up or Leave Me Alone"
TV on the Radio – "Golden Age"
Vampire Weekend – "Walcott"
The Very Best (Esau Mwamwaya & Radioclit) – from 'The Very Best' Mixtape
Victor Wooten – from What Did He Say?
The White Stripes – from Icky Thump
The Who – from Quadrophenia
Tom Waits – "Big in Japan"
Zero 7 – from Destiny CD1
(Kaimana 1)
(Kaimana 2)
Saturday, February 7
Looking Ahead to
Kaimana22: The blogournament.
There are far too many players expected at the Waimanalo Polo Fields who are (self-)important enough to write blogs. From my own team (Philthy): Me, Mr. Thoughts and Mankind (Link withheld to protect the innocent T-Rex). From the Southern Dandys: Statler, Waldorf (the other way round?) and Warning, may contain frisbee-like substance. From those young Stanford punks: The Pulse and probably some more reputable journalists. What do I know about Stanford anyway? Likely some Ono talking about how great they are too. For the love of god, I hope I don't hear one more joke about LemonTree. You can cry a river, lead a dead horse there, toss him in, build a bridge and get over it, but you can't make frisbee players stop beating the poor bastard.
And I'm sure there are more. This is a blog, not an exhaustively researched (and still fallible) paper of record.
Anyway, the fact remains that this could be a total eclipse of [coverage]. An inundation. A saturation. A battle royal covered from all angles. Then again, we could decide that Hawaii is more fun than Vegas (I have already confirmed this independently, for those of you scoring at home and/or looking for expert opinions. To Wit: Kaimana>Tempe>Vegas) and still not talk about it.
For the record, I will not, under any circumstances, be bullied into boatracing against Kid and/or Count. I'm from NYU, we had kegs of Anchor Steam at parties. No need to drink fast. Put it on the backburner and slow your roll for the marathon. That is, "I see your challenge, accept defeat and challenge you to beers for breakfast and many rousing rounds of Ace-to-the-Face."
Anyway, the Philthy team this year has some newly signed roster surprises, and once again some fly-ass jerseys. Some of us will be tourin' Kaua'i the week before, some of us will be north-shoring the week after. The select unemployed pretend-writers amongst us will be doing both. To that end, I invite any+every one to drop by the Kona Brewing Co at the Koko Marina before you head to the polo fields and campsite on Friday. We'll be there circa 11am until our long liquidbreakfastlunch provides sufficient tent-erecting fuel. (Directions: Take H1 east until it turns into Route 72. Once it does, get into the left of the two lanes when it gets down to a 2-lane road. When it makes you turn left onto Lunalilo Home Rd, you're in the right complex. Yeah, only Chevron in the area.) Hope to see you there!
And then? I hear we have 3 days of games+beach in paradise to look forward to!
Hell yes-- Just livin' the dream
and hoping I don't wake up.
Monday, January 12
The09Trip
Finally got my affairs in order.
Agenda:
Trouble in Vegas with Me First. (oldpike)
New Year's Fest with the Philly team. (I blame Ultimax.)
Kaimana with Philthy. (We're going to appear thin this year.)
Sweet. Now to get the details sor(di/te)d... and not miss flights.
One month, three tourneys, three teams.
Trouble in New Year's Paradise.
Thursday, March 6
Hawaii Eight
Hat Tournament over. Ultimate is over for the week. For both weeks. One more day in paradise.
I don't know what the plan is and I don't really care. I've loved being here like I have loved few trips in the past. Maybe a snowboarding trip. Maybe a skiing trip when I was younger. Maybe that trip to Utah with my grandparents and relatives when I was younger. That was a good time, but I'm not ever sure I enjoyed that fully.
I think I was too, well... young.
I'm not now.
Anyway, this entry is actually about ultimate.
The last two weekend have taught me a lot about how to be a thrower. The winds here are constantly variable, though not necessarily always strong. It is always there, and it lets good throwers make throws that they couldn't make otherwise. Use the wind. Rip the disc with that spin that makes it sit in a spot.
There is a difference between being pretty positive that you can make a throw and knowing that you can and will make the throw. There is no hesitation. All of us are like this for shorter passes, but to finally feel like the field is open for me as a thrower to paint as I choose is a great thing.
I'm not a perfect thrower, but man.... I'm better than I was yesterday. I'm better than I was last year. I'm better than I was 5 years ago when I started with Pike. I'll be better tomorrow.
--
The weekends, for me, were about playing winning ultimate. No matter the team or the environment or opposition or weather or anything, the goal was to play winning ultimate for that team. This meant filling different roles for different teams. With Philthy at Kaimana, this was all about getting a couple of our other throwers into good positions, and taking good shots (And some wild ones) when I had the chance. We had receivers who could make some plays, and all of our throwers could put the disc out to a place where the defender would need to make a spectacular play (and some did) to get to the disc.
Trusting your receiver to make the play when you make the throw is the implicit contract of playing ultimate. Afterall, you can't play the game on your own, you need to rely on your teammates. The better they are, the more you can rely on them. The more you can rely on them, the more throws (hammers, blades, lasers, etc) are open to you because they can catch/read everything. Having that trust, that connection, is the goal of a team on offense. (and even on defense, really)
It starts with strategy (we'll dump on this count and look for this throw over this throw...) but it needs to evolve past that. To the point where you each read the situation the same way and then react accordingly on trust, which is a split-second or so before you would have normally.
The difficulty comes when that trust is broken, for whatever reason. Perhaps the thrower is off. Perhaps a receiver is distracted. Perhaps someone is injured or sick or something. Perhaps a throw was just off, or a receiver completely gacked something. At that point, it is up to you as a teammate to keep the trust going. To continue to believe in your teammates and what you've worked on so hard. To continue to believe in yourself because you know that you're good enough and that you've worked hard to get to where you are. But most importantly, you can never lose faith in your teammates.
As a teammate, you must build up that trust. You must make your teammates believe in you. And Trust you. And know that they can rely on you.
That belief, that unshakable cornerstone of a great team can come from an individual or a group or the whole team, but that positive, radiant trust, based on the knowledge that everyone is working to improve, working toward the same goal, getting better every day is what you're after.
If you cannot get there, you cannot go far.
The Hilo Hat tournament was fun. We (Team Red) went 5-0 on Day One, beating many of the players from the East Coast who made it out. I was fortunate enough to have a team full of people that I didn't know, save for the TD, Dave, who I played against at Kaimana, as he was on He LoLo. He's a good thrower who loves the game and loves winning.
The theme for our team was carving the other teams up with give-go action to deep looks. Hmmm.... Just like Pike. I felt very comfortable once I realized what the team was trying to do. Once they realized that I tended (though... tended is chosen for a purpose) to have good judgment as a thrower, they were okay with my deep looks too, but at first, there was some dismay that some of those discs were turnovers.
This is the point at the hat tournament that you need to manage carefully. If you're a thrower and you know that you have throws (not just *think* that you have throws) you will have some early turnovers because your teammates didn't know that you had throws like that. You've got to not make a habit of it, and play the game that they want for a moment until you see another good deep cut. Put it up again for the encouragement, but know that you must not do this every time. Your teammates will hate you if you don't complete nearly all of them. Remember that the game is not about you, it is about your team.
I found that focusing on playing pretty strong D on good players is a way to motivate myself and keep myself up for a game. Trying to get D's on glory cuts or being that irritating guy to get open on is way to show your teammates that you're invested in the game. That you can play, and that you take it seriously. Mix in a part of joy with that, always smile, and always encourage your teammates, and you're set. You'll start laying the foundation for a winning team.
Or, more importantly, a team that loves playing together.
On Day Two, we didn't fare so well, but that's why we went 5-0 on Day 1! We lost our first game to the White team (the villains for this tournament as they had at least 5 guys from the same Kaimana team, Philthy: Doc, Eug, Trash, Jeff Ho and Kazan.) whose offense consisted of Doc throwing lefty hucks to Eug, Trash, Jeff and Kazan before the defenders knew what was coming. Their women were really good as well, though I don't know their names, and the men I haven't mentioned because I don't know them were very solid as well. And playing for keeps. Which is fun.
We lost to them to the tune of 11-3 or something (games to 11). I wasn't worried as I figured we'd see them again. And we actually didn't play as poorly as the score indicated. Just some uncharacteristic errors. And the White team never seemed to just turn it over like all of the other teams. They were too busy scoring on us.
We then played the Green team, home to some other NYU alums like Blake and Jimmy. They also had one of the 3 fastest ultimate players I've ever seen, Keoki(I may have spelled that wrong). Now, let me tell you how I meet Keoki:
We got to the campsite on Friday night pretty late because of all of the trail running and hiking and all to get to the green sand beach after we jumped off of the cliffs on the end of the island after we went to the black sand beach after waking up in Volcano National park. Yow. Anyway, we get there, and the place is winding down, with only a few stragglers (Kid amongst them, of course, as well as some Texas fellas) including Keoki. As he staggered up to me, this exchange occurred:
Keoki: What team are you on?
Me: I don't know, because I missed the registration and all.
K: I hope you're on the Green Team, because I'm on the Green Team and we're going to win.
M: Well, I hope you're on my team too, because my team is going to win.
K: I'm the fastest player here.
M: Shit! I know I'm not. I guess I won't be covering you.
K: I'm too fast to cover. That's why my team is going to win.
Then there was a boat race, North vs South... and while I'm not sayin the South will never rise again... it certainly didn't this night. It's tough to get to your award-winning anchor to close the race out if you don't get to him.
Anyway, I eventually fell asleep next to he fire that night, and then wandered over to my tent for a bit of real shut-eye before the tournament, and more importantly, before the sunrise. I love sunrises, and the one I saw that morning was no step down at all. Sun coming up over a little bay of black rocks with waves crashing over them. Some good sunrise company. Bigger and Bigger waves, escape from the damn ultimate world again before diving into it fully...
Back to the game against Green. Anyway, they have some players (Including some KILLER women who dominated as handlers) but this Keoki is a killing us. He's quite simply uncoverable. He can't really read the disc, I mean he can, but not perfectly) but that doesn't matter because he gets there before you no matter which route you take. Or which circuitous route he takes. Reminds me of one Danny Clark like that, except Keoki's shorter and able to stand up straight for more than one game without getting massively injured. Although Danny's left-handed. So... I don't know where that leaves us.
Anyway, Green wins and, as I remind my team, this is why we went 5-0 on Saturday. It lets you wake up slowly and sleep-walk your way to the semis on Sunday. Nice. We get to play against the White team in the semis. I think we'll be able to take them.
While there is some exciting play in our game, some great hucks and some sweet Ds, and all of that jazz, White pulls it out simply by outlasting us. They were deeper and their second to third tier players were playing better in this game than ours. We definitely had talent, just not as much. It was a good game though. We got to end it on the classic "Slow-non-running handler jog deep until the first throw goes to him" play. Which was sweet. We lost by 3 or 4, but yet again (for me) my team scored the last point and lost. I really think this rule ought to be changed. I mean, I was put off by it and I didn't even lose a bid to Nationals as a result.
Now worries, now I can finish the Maui Rum and heckle the finals... That's another entry though...
The last bit of the tournament (non heckling non-finals version) is that I was voted my team's spirit player. I got a SWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET baby-blue disc and a big-ole beer cup. Maybe a yard or so of plastic beer-holding goodness. I tried to vote for everyone else on my team, because honestly, it was a great team to play with. Very positive, beautiful people who loved being out there and dealt with my ridiculous antics. And for that, I got to go home with a beautiful disc? Nice!
Anyway, that's all for this breakfast typing. My game is improving, my life is improving. I'm at a great place right now-- I just hope I can keep up with my goal of being better as a person and a player and everything every day. Make today better than yesterday. Make today's me better than yesterday's.
(hawaii seven)
(hawaii nine)
Wednesday, March 5
Hawaii Retractions
Due to pressure from Philthy the following Official Ultimatejournal Retractions are made:
1. JP plays for "Your Mother."
2. Thorpe is captain of "Dusty's blog can suck my balls."
3. Eric plays for "This is some Bullshit."
4. Doc is captain of "This is some Bullshit" and only moonlights on Amp.
Friday, February 29
Hawaii Four
In the Car from Spencer Beach Park to Akaka Falls 10:05 AM
The much-maligned (before we arrived) hike to the far fields, where many teams had games due to the mostly-switching fields between rounds format, was actually pretty awesome.
Wow. Great blue views on this drive. Unbelievable. Beach Boys Pet Sounds in the background. Political talk on tap for the drive. Talk of Clinton as Tracy Flick. No energy from Hillary is the end result while Obama is a source of positive vibes. no Fear, no Loathing. Damn HST again.
The first night was fun, but Kid and I agreed that it seemed more tame than what we remembered. No 4-5am mornings. But maybe that was just my sickness coming on and Kid not being so Kiddish?
First game on Day Two was against Skeletor. Many of my team was fantastically hungover. It had to do with a lot of "Ace to Face" and "touch people at the tournament." Both of which were better spectator sports than actual sports during the party. Ace to the Face was a hit. Very literally. Some outsiders got involved and it quickly turned into a motherfucking slapfest. As I told my team earlier, no way I'd be playing that foolsgame when you bastards have had some liquor in you. Especially you, Trash.
Skeletor seemed to be a little more awake than us. Their zone didn't always work the way they wanted it to, or perhaps it worked exactly as they wanted it to only I was completing the crossfield hammers and blades while Bhavin was scoobering. Our real problem was that we were not playing any semblance of defense. If they got a turn, they were assured of converting, and if they received the pull, they were assured of scoring. Whereas we were running pretty well on O, our D was just terrible. Oh well. 15-6? or 7 loss? This would eventually hold the same place as our Nada Mooger Quarters loss in 07.
We then played Big Daddy Kane, who we played in the "pre-Quarters" in an epic battle mentioned in the UPA magazine (Specifically Huge Yum of Amp) last year. Mondo and friends. They're a pretty good team, and we had a spirited game but we were the better team and won by 3 or 4.
Then we played a team from Alaska and surrounding parts and friends or something. I think they played a decent amount of zone. I got a couple of sweet backhand rips off against their tall deep to our short speedy receivers. Those were some funfun throws. I love playing in the wind.
Day two was less successful on D for me as I don't recall getting as many blocks, but in this one I got a pretty sweet skying D on a dump pass which lead to a quick score. That was fun. I like playing well in Hawaii just like I do everywhere else!
We then had a little break after which we thought (originally) that we would not have a game since our loss had come down to keep us company in the bottom pool. Now we were 2-1 in the bottom pool and the team that beat us yesterday by one (Blackfish) was 3-0 in the lower pool with their one point win carrying them to a prequarters game. We, by contrast, had the first round of the beer bracket. Yup, we don't even get to heckle the pre-Q. Or get distracted by it as we had to trek to the other fields. But again, the walk was very nice.
We would now play against He LoLo. Dave (Future Hat Tourney Teammate) explained the pun to me, but I forget it. They're from Hilo, aka the site off the Hat tournament next weekend that a lot of folks who like their frisbee a little too much (like most of my team... including my dumb ass) head over for.
He LoLo is pretty nice and there's a dude in jean shorts who is a little too good for those pants. It is a pretty strong wind at the far fields and that helps us, but doesn't seem to hurt them as much as it does many other teams. Some nice hucks all around, some frustration for the first time on our part. We make it through to the end with a late run of 4 points or so. Back to the pavilion through the nature walk (goats, horses, peacocks, vermin, cats, streams, views, mountains, crazy birds in the distance of indeterminate number, a barking dog!) and then to the ocean.
At some point, I tried to throw a disc to someone near the campsite and cut up my big toe pretty well. Bad times. Had to go back to the trainer and get it taken care of. She was nice, although she seemed like she'd rather be somewhere else. Not really surprising. I wouldn't want to be there either. Better than doing it here than in Minnesota in the winter, but still, I could come up with a better place job to be doing than dealing with idiots like me. She took care of me well though.
Back to the camps, back to the tents, eventually back to the tents that night feeling ill. Without drinking more than a beer an hour or so, that was odd. And then, the rest of the night coughing. Bad times. The next morning I felt completely terrible. That's what happens when you stay up coughing you know.
No stories to tell that day, just "I'm ill but not from alcohol. I was coughing all night." Lovely. I look like the town drunk, and I didn't even get to do the drinking. Ah well.
Wait, we're stopping for construction? They do construction in paradise? It isn't already paradise though? Interesting... Out for now. Maybe more to write later. Maybe this is it. Much camping to do. Nowhere to plug the laptop in. Tournament recapped, save for the last game against Lone Star that I didn't play in and couldn't really watch anyway. That should do it for now. Camping for a week is going to be great. Beaches. Hikes. Cliffs. Highways on the ocean. Black Sand, Green Sand. Stargazing. A Sand Castle Contest in the works. Wines. Jeff Ho's camping culinary expertise. Great music. Goofy games. Just another week lost in paradise.
Mahalo.
(hawaii three)
(hawaii five)
Thursday, February 28
Hawaii Three
Front: Trash, JP, Bhavin, Brandolph, Jeff Ho, Butter, Jimmy
Waikiki, 8am.
I think I just played in a tournament. Or, at least two days of a tournament. The third was spent lying in the shade as often a possible curled up in a ball with at least one teammate taking pictures of my ass. The rest of my teammates were plotting ways to either jump on me when I wasn't looking or give me a good old-fashioned Ace-to-the-Face.
I wish I could say that I missed the last day because I was up too late partying in Hawaii or drinking on the beach or something. But I'd be lying. Instead, I got a cold or flu or something and spent two nights (Saturday and Sunday) coughing up a storm and not sleeping more than a couple of hours. This didn't seem to hurt me too much on day two, but day three... no go. Too much for me to deal with at that point. Ah well.
The tournament was a success on and off the field, as it always is. But most importantly, I DIDN'T MISS MY FLIGHT!!! No worries, no delays, nothing. Now, that being said... some other folks did. Whoops!
10:06am
On the balcony at the Park Beach Club or wherever we are. View of the beach, tiny room, reasonable, but not cheap, rate. That'll do pig, that'll do. Ragoo by the Kings of Leon is a phenomenal anthem-y song with surprising depth of sound.
The first game of the tournament was against Blackfish who are apparently a club team from Vancouver. We went up early with some sweet deep looks and capitalized on their late arrival to the game as we were all so pumped to get our jerseys that we we re there pretty early. And the jerseys were a hit.
Then Blackfish started working harder and running a bit more. They also started doing annoying shit like calling plays. With our team makeup (2007 Teams represented: Pike (Me, my brother), Amp (Furf, Eugene, Butter, Bhavin, Alex, Doc), Puppet Regime (Jimmy, Jeff) Philly Love (Brandolph, Trash), AC/DC? (Kazan) and "Not really playing" (TP, JP, Thorpe)) we were just learning how to play ultimate together and the like. Eventually they got up a bit (4-8?) We made a run of 1-4 or so (with us scoring the last point after the hard cap had blown) to lose 8-9. Shit. With the power-pool format, this could really fuck us. Well, our original plan of going 3-0 the first day and taking day two off for hangovers was shot. We'll have to try for 2-1 and luck.
Next game was against someone. I can't remember who. We beat them pretty well though, I think. 13-9 or so? Nhara Moku maybe? One of their guys was one of the people from our area who missed his flight. Then we had a bye. As usual, this is where the story changes character.
Our team hustles over to the tent to get some of the fantastic barbecue from the guys who come every year and sell barbecue for 4 and 5 dollars under the tent. It is great. The pig is the balls, the chicken is good and all, and so is the fish, but as Doc learned, chicken is for bitches. We all had a beer or two with lunch, because beer is good with lunch. Then we decided that we'd play a couple of hands of drinking hearts which was expected to add a drink or maybe two to everyone's bellies, but not too much. Then it was determined that if someone shot the moon, the three other players would have to down two beers. Seemed unlikely that this could occur in the 4 or 5 hands we were set to play.
After the first hand, there were three people downing two beers.
After the second hand, there were three new people downing two beers.
Damn. New game. I think kings was played with cards like Ace to the Face (Yes, it involves slapping and presages The Mallet Game which the team found much funnier than "the dumb counting game") and Chase Brandolph (Yes, it involves throwing chairs and presages "Touch Crazy Guy" which the team found much easier than "Touch blw"). At this point, it is time for the hike to play Phillbt (which is apparently some kind of sound).
It seemed that I knew guys on this team all over the place from Summer League and Club Open and Club Mixed all in my backyard. Crazy. Fly to Hawaii, play the same people you always play. I figured it would work that way for teams from California and the West Coast in general, but I thought that since we were from the East Coast, that would be less likely.
Ah well. We went up in this game. It was really windy, and Bhavin had some phenomenal throws. Just stunning flicks. On Double Game, a big flick huck of mine caught either a goal or almost goal was called back on a travel. Cool. We complete some throws, then we don't, they march it up to complete their comeback and win by one point. Oops. That'll teach me to travel in Paradise.
1-2 and all but assured of going down to the bottom pool with a loss after we face Skeletor in the morning because my team is planning to slap the hell outta some more faces tonight. I hold out hope that our drops and turfs will decrease on day two. I'm sure our aggressive choices will continue, and I hope that they will. It's more fun to play aggressively and take some well-percentaged chances to good receivers with good throwers. Especially at tournaments like this.
I'll get back to Day Two or possibly night one later. But After this game, we went back for dinner and enjoyed the wildlife walk from the far fields again.
(hawaii two)
(hawaii four)
Read More......
Tuesday, February 26
Hawaii One
high over the pacific.
I'm on my second flight. PHX->HNL.
Sweet. No madness getting to the plane, no endless driving between EWR and PHL. No Anger. No Rage. Just Ease On In. Kaimanastate of Mind. So different than 07.
Even with the sleeping bag and tent all and all, this coulda been a single-bagger. But I brought my team's sweet-ass 5ultimate jerseys. Gotta be worth it. Brought the new laptop too. Got a playlist to end all playlists. At least until the next long trip. An amalgamation, focusing on a soulful blend that ranges from classic rock to Texmexicali blues to paranoid dance music to flat-out dirty-south redneckrock to cut-with-a-knife-funk representing Philly, Jersey and NYC.
The glory of the mix isn't that the songs are good and that they all fit a singular purpose (we do that with every mix!) but that it is a mix that can be played in two specific ways: Straight ahead and on shuffle. That is, listen to it straight ahead if you want more of what you're listening to. If for some reason you hit a patch or a song you don't like, hit shuffle. The variety is there to support a complete and instant genre change without leaving the listener feeling that there has been a departure for the larger theme. Once you hit shuffle, keep with the shuffle until you find something that you want to listen to more of. Or at least listen to more that is tangentially or directly related either through artist, reference, sample, quote, album, sound or whatever struck me at the moment.
179 Songs, all killer, no filler:
Full albums:
Blu and Exile, Below the Heavens
M.I.A., Kala
Jay-Z, American Gangster
The rest:
Alicia Keys
Allman Brothers
Basement Jaxx
Beastie Boys
Beatles
Bobby Womack
Cam'ron
Cee-Lo
Clipse
Cypress Hill
David McCallum
DJ Shadow
Doug Sahm
Dylan
Erykah Badu
Franz Ferdinand
Jay-Z
Jay-Z/Dangermouse
k-os
Kanye
Kings of Leon
Lil Wayne
Maceo Parker
Mad Decent Worldwide Radio
Method Man/Redman
Mos Def
Nas
Nate Dogg
Notorious
Outkast
Prince
Snoop
Soulive
Steely Dan
Steinski
Talib Kweli
Talking Heads
THE BOSS
The Police
The Roots
Tom Petty
Traffic
Tupac
War
Wu-Tang
Wyclef
Zero7
Very Excited about this one. Got a couple of other back-up mixes as well, but I think this one will truly emerge victorious over the next 10 days. It's like... 17 albums of music that fit together into a cohesive whole in multiple directions! I spent time on this shit, and it is good.
Outside of that, I've got a couple of books Go and Go-Moku and The Inner Game of Tennis which are both re-reads and ostensibly related to ultimate, but at very least are well-thought out and reasoned skinny-though-intelligent books on different aspects of competition.
This weekend promises to be a great time again. The team is good on and off the field. We'll be at the damn beach and then playing ultimate in paradise. Should be some good games too!
The week after that is a trek over to the Big Island for a week of camping and a night of hotelery. Volcanos, Green Sand Beaches, Black Sand Beaches, Coffee, green, ocean, beach, surf, joy! When I retire, I will be on a beach. Preferably where the mountains rise straight up outta the damn ocean. DAMN!
So excited. Time to stop typing. Woohah.
(hawaii two)
back.
kind of.
waiting in phoenix for a flight. great trip. there was just an incredible amount of stuff that we did over the trip.
sunsetswinesunrisesbeertentssearedahicliffjumpingcoffeeillegaldrivingbeerclimbingkayakingcampingwaterfallsoceanwineblacksandrunningwhitesandrunninggreensandthrowingmusic treeswildernessturtleswhaleskoreanbbqsashimisleepingunderthestarslunareclipseatsunsetfrommthetopoftheislandandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandonandon.
just incredible.
oh yeah, we played ultimate too.
did a ton of writing on the trip too. some for this very webspace. some for that other waste of space.
i'll get it up here eventually. maybe sooner if i'm stuck in phx for much longer.
(for the record, this is what i looked like all weekend with my vacation hair/grin)
Friday, February 15
Saturday, March 10
Back to KKXX
Back Row: Jimmy, Zac, Furf, Thorpe, Bhavin, Eugene, Kazan, Butter, TP
As mentioned previously, Kaimana was the best non-Nationals tournament yet, although this particular journey started quite inauspiciously...
The team, Philthy, was cobbled together from a group of NYU alums (Myself, Jimmy, Zac and JP) , a couple of frequent honorary NYU alums (My brother and Josh), a group from Philly (Furf, Eugene, Thorpe, Bhavin, Butter) and some late addition from Truck Stop (Kazan). Most of the players had met before, but had little experience on the field together. The most important question asked during the recruiting phase: "Are these the sort of players who will party though the night and not suck on the field?" Answer: "Fuck yes."
Back to the narrative: The first player headed out to Oahu was one John Patterson. He, for some reason, was scheduled to depart on Thursday and spend the first night in Hawaii on his own. He's a big boy, so we weren't worried about him. The plan was for him to get there and rent a car for the NY contingent. At about 11am on Thursday morning while I'm struggling to maintain any semblance of focus at work, I am given a message by a coworker:
A 'Mr. Patterson' requests that you call him back immediately.
Right on. I finish the phone call that I'm in the middle of, and call JP. He goes into some explanation, the culmination of which was that he missed his flight and wouldn't be able to get there until Sunday at the earliest. He would be flying standby from JFK with lists of over 75 people ahead of him. FUCK! I don't think he had a good explanation, and I'm not sure I was interested in one. This instance prompted me to send an this email to the two people with whom I would be traveling to the Philly airport:
With JP missing his flight today, please please please (BOTH OF YOU!) be on time... I get, as you may recall, unreasonably anxious about missing flights.
The rest of the workday passes with little of import occurring. I somehow manage to get the necessary work done before 6pm and then the travel starts. Julie and I go to pick up a rental car in NYC to drive down to Philly with Jimmy. Sweet. I can also drive to my basketball game that evening. After the game, I head back to work because, as usual, I've forgotten some things that need to be finished.
Julie and I both finish work at about 1am and head back to Jersey City to pack up and go. The plan is to pick up the inimitable Jimmy at 3:30am at the PATH station. Dawdling as always, we leave Jimmy standing out in the cold until about 4:15am. Not good. I'm under the impression that our flight leaves at 7:30, so I know we need to drive fast, but not 90 mph. We make it through the rental car return and all of that pretty quickly, and I, being the sort that shows up to airports 2-3 hours before departure time, start getting really nervous that Julie and I are about to miss our flight. Julie, being accustomed to showing up at the last possible minute and getting on the plane, is positive that we'll be fine.
We get to the counter quickly (6:25am) and the woman tells us that we may not check in. It turns out that our flight leaves at 7:05am and that they cannot let us attempt to check in 30mins before departure. Julie attempts to argue while I do my best not to start yelling at anyone in the vicinity and the woman will not budge. I'm completely flipping out at this point-- This is the first time I've ever been close to missing a flight, let alone actually missing a flight. I suppose it was unavoidable after that damn email and the day full of laughing at JP. Julie is working with the woman to try to get us on the next flight out. It appears that the next flight out will get us there on Sunday, possibly Monday (My memory is clouded by anger). Julie also talks her into putting us on a standby flight out of Newark at 2pm.
At this point, I'm a pissed off wreck after being up for 24 hours and seeing my chance to get to Kaimana slipping away. I call Jimmy to let him know the deal and to discover that he's made his flight. Jamie, the other person I called at that hour, is already on his flight as it departed at 6am.
This leads us to renting another car to get from Philly to Newark. I'm getting ready to reverse the same drive I just made down from Jersey City. 2 more hours driving, but this time I'm mad as hell. for those who don't know, I'm a very ugly person to be with in these situations and Julie did a better job dealing with me than could have been expected. She may well be ready for sainthood.
We get up to EWR with time to spare and I NEED food. All I've had thus far was coffee, beef jerky and trail mix. And more coffee. We go up to the gate and wait for standby to be called. I have absolutely ZERO faith that we will get on the plane, and I'm ready to throw in the towel. I'm trying my best to be pleasant and failing miserably.
While Julie is on the phone with her father (who lives on Maui), I go back to check on our status. I ask about the two of us, and the woman tells me that she called Julie's name. I rush back to her and let her know. She runs to the counter, I pick up our carry-ons and go back to the counter... Julie's got the golden stand-by ticket on a direct flight to Honolulu! Sweet! It then dawns on us that while I'm the next standby on the list, it is not likely that I'll be getting on the same flight. Fuck me. I realize that the power of positive thinking has really had an impact here. Or at very least the ability to talk rationally to the counter-lady in Philly put her first on the list out of the two of us.
Julie is feeling some guilt about getting on the plane. I tell her that I would leave in a heartbeat if I were her and that she should go. It doesn't help her, but at least I convince her that I won't resent her at all. I walk to the counter and pester the woman there very nicely as the plane boards and she says that I will need to wait there just in case something awesome happens.
During this time, we hatch a plan to throw some money away on a one-way ticket if one of us misses the flight while the other makes it, which seems completely likely to me. Expensive? Yes. Completely worth it if it means not missing the whole fucking tournament. That being said, considering the situation, the price was reasonable.
Julie boards last, and the woman says that there is one seat that may or may not be available as the ticket scanner was down during part of the boarding process. They send someone on to double-check for the empty seat and... no dice.
Shit.
Crestfallen.
As I walk dejectedly away from the terminal, I go to a "pay-per-minute" internet connection (very sketchy) and purchase the tickets that Julie and I discussed to get me to Honolulu on Saturday afternoon. The trouble is, the flight leaves from Philly. Another two hour drive on I-95. Sweet. I've been up for 32 hours and I have to climb back into a rental car. Well, at least I can have some more coffee!
I go back down to the rental agency (Avis) who were nice enough to put our car on hold as we waited for standby tickets. This prevented me from needing to rent another car and pay a bunch more money for it. That gets a big plus in my book. I climb back into the car that I hated the first time around and start my drive. I've got the Chili Peppers Stadium Arcadium up on full blast because I need something to sing along with. It was one of the 11 actual CDs I brought with me on the trip for "Rental Car Music" on the islands. It is easily the music with the most edge as the others (Bob Marley's 4 Disc Songs of Freedom, 2 Jack Johnson discs, Neil Young's On the Beach, Damian Marley's Welcome to Jamrock and Third World's 96 Degrees in the Shade) were all specifically selected as smooth Island Cruising Music. The backup was the Damian Marley disc, but it just isn't as angry and, well, I was pissed. I was wishing that I brought De-Loused in the Comatorium by The Mars Volta, El-P's Fantastic Damage, or Nirvana's Nevermind. At very least, I wish that I had been able to find my copy of Girl Talk's Night Ripper (excellent party disc and very brisk).
I stop on the way for more coffee.
I roll into the Philly Avis rental car return and unload and start the trek to the counter. Damn am I tired. Almost 36 hours straight. I clearly look like a complete wreck as the woman behind the counter asks me if I'll be able to make it to the terminal. I'm apparently worthy of enough pity to be bumped up to First Class on the flight out to Portland. Cool. That should give me enough space to sleep. What a shame. I've been bumped up to FC once or twice before and the free booze is just a fantastic addition to the food. At this point there is just no way for me to stay awake any longer, so I'll just have to pass.
I head through security (a horrible chore, as always, in Philly) and stop by a bar for a couple of beers before the flight. I board the plane and as I settle in to watch some of The Wire on my ipod, the guy next to me starts talking to me and demanding my attention. Fine, I'll mollify him for a bit-- I don't want any enemies on the flight. We talk for a little while and somehow we get on the topic of pre-fab housing developments. I say (paraphrased, but close):
Anyone who lives in a McHouse like that should be ashamed of themselves. Just like people who read the USA Today, aka McPaper. What kind of idiot would want to live in a house that looks just like the 50 houses in the neighborhood? It completely devalues craftsmanship and individuality while eroding any meaningful sense of community. I've been tempted to start fires in developments like that. I mean, I'm no arsonist, but these sorts of things are destroying the fabric of our society bit by bit.
It then turns out that he lives in a house like that and has a copy of the USA Today with him. so much for not having any enemies. He is at a loss for words, and I return to reading Jared Diamond's Guns, Germs and Steel as we're preparing for takeoff and using my ipod at times like these may lead to a crash or some horseshit.
To my complete shock, as we get into the air, this guy starts talking to me again. Unbelievable. I stop the conversation as he asks the flight attendant for something. I bury my head in my pillow and cover up with a blanket and start to drift off. Nearing the 40 hour mark, I'm a little buzzed, still a little wired and very, very cranky. Sweet dreams (or blessed blackness) await.
Within 3 minutes he's talking to me again. He asks about the book I'm reading, why I'm going to Portland and what I was watching on my ipod. As I start describing the book, I can tell he has no interest, so I keep talking in hopes that he'll stop listening. It doesn't happen. I run out shit to say about the book as he asks for the attendant again. I shut my eyes and turn away. he says something, but I pretend I'm asleep. Soon enough, I've ignored him and I am actually asleep. No need to pretend.
We arrive at PDX at something like 2am. I'm 7 kinds of uncomfortable from that flight and all I can think about is what the hell was wrong with that fucker on the plane? This is the type of person who causes shouting matches. If he had touched me to wake me up, I would have let fly a string of obscenities seldom heard these days liberally punctuated with other vile things that you can call someone. It, of course, reminds me of a Seinfeld episode that I cannot place at the moment in which a character mentions the people who travel on airplanes with nothing to do and says "These are the people who want to talk to you on the plane" or something to that effect. I'll tell ya, if you buy me a drink or to, I'll waste my time with you. Otherwise, I come prepared. I've been traveling since I was a little kid-- I know better than to walk into a plane with nothing to do. Christ.
Anyway, I get the joy of spending the next 4 hours in the PDX airport, as my flight to Seattle leaves at 6am or somesuch. I've stolen a pillow and a thin blanket from the plane so that I can lay my head on one of those sets of seats in the airport that are specifically designed not to let you sleep on them comfortably. Blech. Listening to some dreamy Sigur Ros, I drift off.
I wake up ready to roll. I'm very sore, but nothing some stretching won't fix. I do my usual morning/airport stretching routine and hunt down some breakfast. Yipee! More coffee! I board the quick ride to Seattle, which was highlighted by the flight attendants moving some people around to "Balance the Plane" which is a terrifying thing to hear. Uneventful trip.
In SeaTac, I get to my gate with enough time to spare, give a call to the group at Kaimana and make sure that someone will be at the airport to pick me up. Julie's father, who will be seeing Julie play for the first time as well as seeing ultimate for the first time, says he will be there. Awesome. I get on the plane and immediately pass out again. We arrive at HNL a little early and I make a beeline for the agreed-upon pickup spot. Did I mention that my luggage arrived with Julie? For some reason, it was sent straight through even though I didn't get on the plane. This was sweet for me because I had only my carry-on with which to concern myself. If something had gone wrong, this would have been adding insult to injury, but it actually worked to perfection.
I get picked up and finally FINALLY we roll up to the fields. Gorgeous. The last time I was in Hawaii was before I really played ultimate and we had rolled by these fields, but seeing them through the lens of "this is where I'll be playing for the next 2.5 days" was a whole different experience. I missed our first game against the Doughboys (a 10-5 loss), but I got there just before half against the Sipping Sallys.
This game is a pretty uneventful finish as we cruised to a 14-9 victory (I throw like shit and can't run down some beautiful hucks, but I do get some nice Ds). As the Sipping Sallys made a nice run late in the game it gave me a chance to warm up a bit. The outcome was never really in doubt and we got a chance to start to mesh on the field. It turns out we added another player once we got to the fields by the name of TP. He was wandering around looking for a team to join. He, apparently, went to UC-Santa Cruz with Jamie, and we picked him up immediately. For someone with no prior knowledge of our team, he fit in perfectly. Oddly, he had actually sent Furf an email asking about a spot on the squad before the tourney. Furf did get this email... but not until we actually returned on the 27th of February or so. Kismet. This brought our numbers up to 11 as neither Kazan nor JP had yet graced us with their presence. I'm not sure if Kazan missed a flight too or if he was just coming late. You can't ever trust ultimate players. We had guys at Nationals who would roll up to the fields late. Unbelievable.
We then had a 2 round bye in which I got to go to the only fast-food joint worth visiting (Jack-in-the-Box) for some much-needed nourishment as well as stopping by the 7-11 to get some booze to add to the freely-flowing beer. I also dropped by the already set-up campsite (one of the few joys of being so late) and then hopped into the ocean for some body-surfing. Ahhh... now THIS is what I traveled all this way for!
I wander back to the fields in time for the start of our next game against the Aloha Spirit team. I think we took half at 7-2 on the way to a 15-6 victory. As the game got to the second half, we called a drinking timeout and then started playing dumb points like all-scoober, all-hammer, all-blade, all-lefty and such. It was a fun game, certainly, and I think we represented the tournament's fun spirit well in that one. Let the record show that Furf cannot catch a perfectly thrown 40 yard blade.
That first night was consumed by getting my stuff into the tent and then getting in line for food very quickly (all the while drinking the free beer of course). We also witnessed Josh getting a fantastic nickname from some ladies as he appeared to suggestively make a burrito disappear... This would come back to haunt him all weekend, much to our enjoyment. We wandered back to the campsite to shower up and get our goose on. Back to the main event! I got to catch up with some guys I hadn't seen in a while from other teams (Special shoutout to Dufort-- alway great to see you) and get righteously inebriated.
As the night carried on, we noticed that most of the Philly contingent was nowhere to be seen. It came out that those nancies had decided to take a "1 hour nap" before coming back to the party. Predictably, this one hour nap turned into a full night's rest as we didn't want to waste valuable drinking time to attempt to wake them from their golden slumbers.
Eventually, we decided to head back to the campsite, but a funny thing happened on the way to the campsite. As we tunred to walk, it became apparent that someone had taken the concept of Drive-In-Movie to another level, projecting some sort of Girls Gone Wild style porn onto the polo scoreboard. Completely twisted, Julie suggested that we stay for a while and watch. This led to her chucking discs at the scoreboard, attempting to hit various anatomically comedic portions of the screen. Porn Disc Golf was born. At some point this grew tiring and I wandered off to the tent.
We woke the next morning to pretty solid sunrise. Part 2. A slice of paradise dropped into our lives. Plans were immediately hatched to return in 08 with much the same squad plus some of the slackers who backed out.
We gathered our gear and headed to the field again, feeling hungover, but not destroyed. The breakfast of cereal, fresh fruit, smoothies and more was fantastic. For some reason, there was no hot coffee this morning which led to the discovery that I was not the only coffee-fiend on the team. good discovery as it led to a group splintering off to find some of the black stuff at a nearby eatery and retrieving it for us. Of course, the Philly crew was endlessly heckled for missing the party from the night before. A drink with a horrible horrible name was coined this morning: PAPaya-SMoothie-bEER, or PAP SMEER. Wow. Just wow. Without the combination of coffee and this new invention,we likely would not have made it to the first round game against Ono.
As we strolled up to the field, I realized that the Ono guys were almost all UCSB and/or Condors. As Kazan rolled up to the field in his drop-top 'Stang, I realized that we were likely in for a beating in this one. The wind was intense and it seemed that all they wanted to do was play zone. Eww. We had no idea how to play against a zone together as we had no established chemistry. I quickly grew tired of the team trying to swing it back and forth and resorted to blades that were dropped and hucking at any opportunity (into any type of coverage) just so we wouldn't have to waste our time working up against the zone. We were definitely plagued by drops in the wind of this game. Not that it would have affected the outcome, but it would have been a bit closer than the 12-3 drubbing we endured. Looking back, I would have expected something more like 15-9 or so, but we stunk in this one. Their blue terrycloth shirts were pretty pimp though. Big points for that style statement.
We had another two-round bye until we played Almos Pau for the third spot in our pool and a potential spot in the quarters the next morning. As our agreed-upon goal for the tourney was "Make quarters and party like rockstars," this was an important game. our very careful prep for this game consisted of drinking, going to the beach, bodysurfing and whomever felt the call rolling some disturbingly large fatties.
The game against Almost Pau was a tight one. We jumped out to a lead and then they came back into the game. We mixed up some zone and some man while continuing our trend of ripping the disc to anyone streaking deep, whether or not they had a step on their defender. I had what turned out to be, by far, my favorite play of the weekend in this game, and it came on D no less. I was the short-deep in the zone and I was sizing up their little give and go motion for a couple of points. As they near a position from which they have been throwing through the cup for the whole game, I see a handler break into the space to the right of the middle-middle and I react by telling my middle-middle to move left to open the hole. Simultaneously, I watch the thrower's eyes as he notices this shift. I know what he's going to do, and I start my 7-yard spring into that hole in the cup and bid as he releases the disc. It would have been a 4 yard completion, but instead it was a stone-cold catch-block. FUCK YES! We score the point and go on to win 13-12.
At some point either just before this game or during it we realized that, in all likelihood, we would be playing a game immediately afterward for a spot in the quarters. The format determined that the 3 teams that finish third in each of three pools are compared on cross-pool point diff. The team that has the best point diff. is given the 7 seed in the quarters. The two teams left have to play a game to 15 with no cap. We did not have the best point diff. This led to our game against Kane, led by Kaimana King, Mondo.
This was another tight game against a closely matched opponent. It went back and forth, but throughout, I was convinced that our players were a notch better than theirs, overall. Our zone was effective and we had some solid play in man D as well. We alternated between spread and stack Os as well as man and zone Ds well. Our team was very receiver-heavy (which resulted in combo players like me, Zac and Jamie handling far more often than cutting) and that hurt us from time to time. One of the positives was that the three of us who handled a lot had very similar strategic thoughts on how dumps should cut and that we had played with each other rather often. The game was an overtime win, methinks, to the tune of 16-14 or so. Hardfought and clean, is my best description.
We earned the right to matchup with Nada in the morning! Jamie and TP v their college "coach," Idris! Two Pike, one ex-Pike, one PoNY and one TSGH against all of those open club vets! Fun times were on the horizon!
More importantly, we had achieved half of our goal, now it was time to party like rockstars! This goal was definitely aided by the arrival of our very own John Patterson. We went to get our dinner of fried chicken (easily a team favorite) and refuel the beer machines. In doing so, some team members decided to challenge the team chicken-eating record to comedic delight.
This is the point in the evening, if you've ever traveled to this type of tournament with me, that I'm most vulnerable to being a cranky old bastard. Often with this sort of tournament (much like Mars, Poultry Days, PADA Mosh and the like) we bring a team of solid upper-middle class talent. In order to make the quarters we have to bust our asses. Combine this with my obsessively competitive personality, and I rarely come out of the game (for better or worse) in these situations. I'll completely wear myself out for the sake of winning these games because it makes the tournament waaay more fun for me. Then I pay the internal energy bill with early-evening performances like this.
Yikes. That was probably the most coherent I was for 4 hours or so after we finished eating. I don't think I ended up being squirted by the infamous beer gun as I likely threatened/promised righteous retribution on anyone who so dared. Eventually, I perked back up in much the same fashion as Redman being revived by Method Man to Du Hast in How High (An unexpectedly funny movie whose humor is magnified 10 fold by the commentary track from Red and Meth) to make a strong rally, going until the party shut down.
Some highlights from that evening:
- The Demon Ice Luge
- Our team starting no fewer than 10 brawls with itself
- Jamie getting his nose broken by Julie in one of said brawls
- Josh and the guy who was overseeing the Ice Luge
- Furf v Eug
- JP winning the Team Spirit Award after missing the first two days
- Josh learning how to hula on stage
- JP settling down in a tent that he thought was mine and taking the sleeping bag. When Furf entered and said "I think you're in the wrong tent." JP replied "Nah dawg, this is my tent." Leading to Furf say "I think you have my sleeping bag." Reply: "Nah dawg, this is my sleeping bag." The reality was that JP had stumbled into Furf's tent, taken his sleeping bag and refused to give it back. Perfectly played on JP's part.
- Many Many other Insanities and Inanities.
Anyway, this game was pretty good in the first half-- I think they were surprised that we didn't completely suck. We kept it close (5-8 at half) with our Grip-n-Rip offense, but they were simply more skilled and experienced. We had some drops, but so did they.
There were a couple of fantastic flick rips by Kublanza to cuts right up the sideline in this one. I also had my favorite throw of the tournament. As a swing pass was coming my way, I took a glance upfield and noticed that their deep-deep had crept in tight. On the line just before this point I mentioned to our wing/deeps that they needed to stay deep just in case this happened. As I anticipated a swing pass coming, I glanced upfield to see where he was and by the time the disc got to me on a quick swing, I had the space from the cup and ripped a huge backhand past the deep and to our deep. After this, he stayed deeper and left our wings open for blades up the line-- perfect.
It was all to no avail though as in the second half Nada pulled away to a 15-6 victory as our errors continued and theirs didn't. Yup, that's about right. First time to the tourney ends with a loss to the reigning champs. Notable oddity: Hammond was playing with his ipod shuffle on during the game. Rude and hilarious-- who would expect less?
We went on to eat far too much ahi poke and drink a bunch more beer while watching Nada go down in the finals to Ono, and then it was time to catch the flight to Maui.
Oh, and in that team picture at the top, you may notice that JP is the smallest guy on our team and that Thorpe is the biggest guy. For some reason, Thorpe and Butter joined forces to stretch out JP's XXL shirt before he showed. The sight of him standing up in that jersey is fantastic. You can get a sense of it from the team pic, but it really doesn't do it full justice.
The Philly contingent stayed on Oahu for the next week, doing things like eating and collecting citations from the police for, in Butter's words:
Officially, "disorderly conduct." Unofficially, being drunk, bored, stubborn, breaking pint glasses, not listening to mall security and inferring that some woman at the bar were very ugly.
Eventually, I may include some recollections from the week on Maui leading up to the best hat tourney I've ever been to, but that may be quite the undertaking like this entry.
In any event, the trip was a complete success. The team is planning on returning in 08 becasue we can't come up with a single valid reason not to. The fields, competition, organization, campsite, weather, people, parties, food, alcohol, scenery and all else were ideal. The only thing that could even slow us is the possibility that we would never return to the mainland. Going back to work is oh-so-difficult if you've just come back from a week in paradise.
Read More......
Tuesday, February 20
QuicKaimana
Kaimana was, as anticipated, a blast. I you haven't gone, you're missing out. If you have gone, well, what more do I need to say?
We lost in the quarters to Nada Mooger 15-6 (8-5 at half) as the wheels came off due to the extreme fun that was had over the course of our stay.
The only other loss was our pool-play loss to Onolicious, the eventual champs (Santa Barbara guys). We lost to the Doughboys as well, but I missed that game due to, uh, travel issues.
The team came together well considering that many of us had never actually played together before. Roster: Eugene Yum, Dan Furfari, Butter, Kazan, Bhavin, Josh Weisstuch, Zac Roy, JP, Jamie Rhodes, Dusty Rhodes, TP, Jimmy Bendernagel and the Thorpe. I think that's it.
Oh, only downside this year? Going to bed in the early morning rain and 20mph winds is not easy. Then again, you're still in HAWAII!
Plans, of course, are already brewing to return in 08.
That's all for now... back to relaxing on Maui for a week.
Thursday, February 15
And I'm Out.
Driving to Philly to fly to Kaimana in 3 hours. I'm amped. Playing with Philthy and hanging out in Maui for the week following the tourney.
Played basketball today. We lost. It was an exciting game though-- my floater was dropping and my passes were on. My jumper was failing and my defense was full of fouls. Also, my team forgot how to shoot jumpers halfway through the game, and no one else could get to the bucket. Tough loss.
I might manage to put something up over the next 12 days... I likely won't. I'll be back on 2.27. Perhaps the sun will conjure up some thoughts for me. Perhaps I'll be able to remember some of the tournament...
--
Workout Total:
45 Minutes Cross-Training (Basketball)
Tuesday, January 23
Explode!
Had a great explosive workout today. Worked out some frustration from the basketball game last night. Really moved quickly through the circuits and stayed focused. Getting through the full-body plyo pushups was tougher than usual, but I will tentatively attribute that to fatigue caused by the improved pace of the workout all together.
The Jersey/NY contingent of our Kaimana team, Philthy, has enough to vote for the installation of a new governing body. We may move forward with this plan as the time nears with a headline-grabbing puppet leader in full Zaphod Beeblebrox mode backed, of course, by a shadowy cabal. It should be a bloodless coup, but one can never tell.
--
Workout Total:
30 Minutes Explosive Strength
15 Minutes Core Work
Thursday, January 11
I Hate Chris Webber
He's been killind the Sixers for far too long. Finally, we rid our team of the 6'10" power forward jump shooter. He was being interviewed on Inside the NBA and I now I hate him even more.
The interview made me want to set him and Billy King up in the same city for the rest of their lives. Possibly in the same house. I think I'd watch a TV show if they gave everyone the mailing address of the Webber/King household and they had to read all the fan mail aloud onscreen. Yup. I'd watch that. I'd also mail them a heart-shaped box of turds on every holiday.
Just before seeing said interview, I did a maximal strength workout. I'm starting to really gain some balance rewards for the one-legged squats in addition to the strength rewards. This is a great exercise.
We also got word that we'll definitely have at least 12 on the Kaimana Squad, Philthy. Quality team both on and off the field. This will kick ass.
--
Workout Total:
45 Minute Maximal Strength Workout
10 Minute Core Workout