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)

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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.

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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)

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Hawaii Three

(Copyright © Kaveh Kardan)

Back: Me, Furf, Doc, Kazan, Alex, Jamie, Thorpe, Eug, TP
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)

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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)

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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)

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kaimanabound

on my way out the door.

10daysinparadise.

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Ultimate Frisbee: The Open-Source Sport

I've got it now.

The paradigm for understanding ultimate. It took a while, but I've got it. I've bypassed things like "Laim-assed hippy shindig," "The Greatest Sport Invented By Man," and "The Kool Aid" for a much more accurate and informative moniker:

"The Open-Source Sport"

Because that's what ultimate is.

Created by people who didn't want to play the games everyone else was playing. The ruels are all variable based on what the people playing want. There's a base set of rules and a general sense of cohesiveness, but regional variations dominate, new wrinkles and adjustments to the rules always crop up and the only people involved in the discussion are the people involved in playing. With the exception of Mr. Seidler.

Unlike other sports where sponsors have their say, or advertisements rule, we're just the sport. No more, no less. In certain areas there are people trying to make it a business (And that's not Bad! If you can profit doing what you love, more power to you!) but even those people are involved directly in the sport as well. There is something pure about that. Maybe even ideal.

Then again, all can change in a matter of days. Or not. Either way, at this moment, we're still shaping what ultimate is. We're all in charge. Even Frank, if he'd stop being such a damn overbearing extremist, can make this game better from the inside.

It's like Linux. And just like Linux, we need to constantly tune it up to make it run efficiently. Let's keep up the good work!

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Small-Sided Success

There I was... awake, but without a ride.

Something about Long Island, Hofstra and "Girls, Girls Girls." I hadn't made the trip with those idiots, but by the time I got back to my apartment, my ride was on his way to Long Island, and those were the words he and his traveling friend were shouting into the phone. I had been out until about 2 and realized that this phone conversation, at 5am, no matter what promises were made, would not result in me having a ride to pickup a mere 6 hours later.

I made my plan. I would get a couple further hours of sleep, cook breakfast, get ready and get on the path train by 11am. This way if the ride miraculously comes through, I can just get on the PATH train in the other direction, lose on 1.50 and get a ride. If the ride, as expected, falls through, then I'm well on my way to a normally timed arrival at pickup.

As I got up a couple of hours later, I was very pleased with my plan as I got to cooking a ham-n-cheddar omelet. Had an orange with it and then a great cup of french-pressed coffee. Yemen Mocha, if you must know. Excellent breakfast. now, as I watch sportscenter on mute with my tunes cranked to a rather high volume for 10:20am. At least I could imagine someone else would think of it as too high a volume.

Back to the coffee for a moment. My mom was nice enough to buy a little french press for me for christmas. It makes one cup at a time of the thickest, strongest coffee I could want. Well, at least thus far. It decreases the amount of actual coffee I drink and increases the quality of said coffee. Perfect.

Anyway, so I get on the train on time and all and get on the njtransit train and then walk to the fields. I then decide that I should sit down and have a lite second breakfast of another orange and some cashews. So I do. I then walk over to the usual meeting place and see that we've got low numbers. No worries, we can play mini. It is at his point that someone comments on thinking they saw me sitting on a bench earlier. Nope. Couldn't have been me having breakfast again.

So we set up for mini and play maybe 5 best out of 5 series. Maybe more. Lots of winning, some losing, some not losing. I love the way that players think in mini versus in ultimate. In mini, everyone is thinking "I'm open right now, all I have to do is catch the thrower's eye." In ultimate people lose track of that tremendous advantage throwers and receivers have and get bogged down into heavily structured offenses or the rote memorization of patterns without deviation. The patters provide the framework. The thing with mini is that it cuts down on the complexity of the pattern. From 14 players to track to 6 players to track. This helps you see the same situations over and over and over again from each of 6 different perspectives. Plus "sideline" as we were running hockey-style (or WWF style, as one player commented) subs on the fly.

Small sided games like mini and then boot* are so damn fun early in the season when you've got no actual weak links on the field. When you adhere to the first rule of mini, ie "No Chumps" you're inextricably bound for a good time. If, when I say "No Chumps" you think I might be talking to you... I am.

Yeah, the games can get goofy, but both mini and boot have self-limiting goofiness/chumpiness factors. In mini, you can lose at -2, so turnovers always count. In boot, you can be lazy but you can't be uncaring or unfocused, otherwise you get scored on immediately as the field changes direction. Even if you can't figure out the strategy, you can be effective by simply standing next to one set of cones playing only defense. Just don't do anything bad in boot, and you'll be good.

As we switched to boot later on, much to the delight of the primarily Jersey-based crowd, there were the classic opening blunders of people unsure of the strategy, but as we switched the teams up to get even rookies and vets to the game, it quickly became a quick-moving constantly evolving game. Including Walt's clinic on classic post-play in boot. You can't give him position or the game's over. My team tended to hoist early, bad shots near the goals, but we were running the spread O very nicely and crisply. We just needed to work for slightly better scoring opportunities on our man-advantage breaks, which are the whole point of the game.

Interestingly, I find mini and boot to mirror PoNY and Pike's strengths and weaknesses rather eerily. In mini, there is a premium placed on beating your man when it is your turn. When you're the guy in the open space, find a place to be open, and the thrower will deliver the pass. Hammer, blade, huck, under, break, whatever. Sure, keep it moving, but those higher skill-level throws are often the correct decision right away. Focus on snapping your throws, no matter the flight path, into a small space versus hard man D. Catching all of those throws confidently. Work on making eye contact and realizing that every 6 inches of advantage over a defender is a potential completion if the receiver can catch with both hands and consistently read the disc soon after the thrower releases it. The pressure to make higher skill-level throws and completions is always there. They aren't impossible throws by any stretch. The field's not huge, so you don't have to rip the disc. It isn't crowded, so there are few poach D's (though some opportunities present themselves). But you do have to beat your man and make good throws under pressure.

In boot, there is so much space and you can always change directions to get a better look or a different advantage. You don't have to beat your man so much as you have to out-think your man. Difficult throws aren't as important as accurate, basic throws with a high level of field awareness. If I can always attack in two directions, and the defender must chose one way or the other to defend me, then i always have an advantage in another direction than the one I'm attacking. If we've got a 3 on 3 here and they're all playing good d, if we sprint to the other set of cones we'll have a 3 or 4 on 1. If I position myself well, when I catch this bailout pass, I can start a 2 on 1 in the other direction. Just run the floor! That's been Pike's strength for a while. Yeah, we had some sick receivers and individual talents, but using their individual strengths as the key variations from our basic-level structured offense was what carried that team to a new level. Being aware enough as players on O to change the angle of a attack seemingly on a dime as a group of 7 players was the key to their success.

Yeah, the offense wasn't "Huck into coverage" but when certain players are only covered by one guy going deep, there is no coverage.

Just like with some throwers, the phrase "if he's even, he's leavin'" particularly applies. With a truly great thrower, the disc arrives on the side of your body in the place to which you were already running such that all you have to do is run where you were already going and catch the disc. No adjustment, no late defensive bid to worry about. You're open and the disc is where it needs to be so that that defender already knows he's beaten. When that great thrower makes a slight error, that's when the great receiver makes the great play under pressure. Or the great defender makes his great play and comes up big. That gray area is where games are won and lost. 4 plays like that can be the difference between 15-11 and 11-15.

Celebrate your gray area plays and players-- they're the game-changers. The rest of your team, and the rest of your offense are the blue-collared workers. You've got to acknowledge those plays every day. Encourage those plays at practice until they become the first option. Those are the plays and players that make the big plays that happen under pressure valuable. Without their work, big plays happen in meaningless games or in meaningless points.

I know I've gone on a crazy tangent here, but I've been thinking about what makes a winning team in ultimate or even other sports a lot recently. I think this is directly related to being a captain now and that I feel like that's the sort of question I should be able to answer, considering my goal is to be a member of a winning team. I love thinking this way. Anyway, I'll just return to the earlier point:

Pickup in NB was awesome today. No Chumps. Yes Wind. Yes Weather. Hours upon hours of high-level disc games. Keep pushing. Always more to learn. Always more to improve on. Better throws, better cuts. Quicker motion from catch to throw. More balanced on defense. More aggressive as a cutter. More. Better vision. Always something to work on. Always something to improve. Always a new throw to perfect. Always.

The burrito afterward were certainly no slouch either. I think I'll have to make a habit of that place.

On the train ride home all I could think of was "I can think of no day I'd rather have." There might be something wrong with me for thinking that, but I don't care any more.

*- New Brunswick Boot Variation: Stall starts at 6 (like mini) and cones are more like 4 feet apart than 4 yards such that one player can almost guard both of them. I think we also played to 5 instead of 3.

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Do what you can, not what you can't

Seems simple, but bears repeating.

I meant to do the four tabatas (pullups, lunges, pushups and squats) last night, but I ended up doing three:

pullups (7/4/4/2/2/1/.5/0),
squats (with a band around my knees-- 20/17/19/19/19/20/19/22),
pushups (20/18/15/12/8/8/5+5/4+8).

The pushups started as fingertip pushups, then regular, and then the +x at the end are pushups from the knees. I figure I can do more work that way than just holding myself there. I think I can add to those numbers in the future as I slow down in regular pushups which will help me totally tax myself during each set. I think I can set a goal of hitting 20 each time (with the +x telling me how much further I've got to push for that set to reach 20 real pushups).

If I'm gonna reach the stars, I must first admit that I'm not yet there.

Anyway, I was then so wiped that the prospect of doing a fourth was pure death. The addition of the band around my knees for the squats and the weak-man pushups really took it to me after the pushups were very obviously hard. So I stretched/foam rolled for like 25 minutes. That's 40 minutes of hard, honest work.

"I'ma blu-cola worker."

(We'll pretend that "cola" reads like "colla" and not like a fizzy sugary beverage.)

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Ross Hits the...

...nail on the head:

Most do not realize what can be accomplished in 20 or 30 minutes. You don’t need a marathon session to improve physical fitness. Less can be more if you put forth an honest effort.

Make time for fitness, as you will never find time. Wake up earlier, or find a break within the day.

(Tabata squats, lunges, pushups, pullups tonight)

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pickup

Heckled to put it in the blog, he refused.

Pickup was pretty good today. A full compliment of ex-Pikes plus a whole bunch of the younger Jersey set made the day really competitive, if still turnover-laden. The reappearance of Jaegro seemed to pull folks out of the woodwork to gawk at the slimy freak. All kidding aside, it was a treat to see that guy again. One of the old Pike guys that, for some unknown reason, saw fit to keep me on the team that first key year.

Then he left to play for some chumps out in Seattle... I wonder how that's going for him. I hope well.

I'm starting to feel like I'm in solid early early early season shape in that I can actually keep running for a full point or two without taking a sub or feeling like I'm going to die. The throws are returning while I'm trying to expand my game-ready repertoire to include some fabulous new defense-punishers, but they're not really 100% yet. Cutting is still awkward, but that's still due to not remembering how to from the seasons prior to last year back when I was actually a cutter.

Very strange to me that in one season as a handler, I seem to have forgotten all 8 years of being a cutter. And now I "cut like a handler" as at least one defender told me. Time to relearn real cutting with the new insight into handling from 07. Can't be content to be one-dimensional.

I'm just so happy to be playing these days. With all of the peripheral things going on in life, from happy to sad to inbetween, ultimate is always there, waiting to welcome me back into the fold. I love it for that. Every time I step into that 70x40 box, there is solace to be found. Sure, there is artifice to it, but at the same time there is truth underneath.

Waxing semi-poetically until I can get back on that field again...

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bend your mind...

and use other sports to shape your mental model of ultimate:

http://coachingbetterbball.blogspot.com/

Not to do the whole Frank Ultimate=Basketball thing, but the notions that they explore strategically versus the notions that we explore strategically are similar. Not a true 1-1 relationship, but the methods and the representations are useful.

Think strategically instead of "play-oriented."

Making the plays and having the skills are the prerequisite to playing good ultimate. Work on them and then train your mind to see the field to take advantage of your skills. One without the other is really kinda useless.

Now, if we could just get a fucking NFL crew to show all 22 players and all of hte Ultimate Videographers to show all 14 players we'd have something. I'm sick and tired of losing track of the most important parts of all of the games that I watch. I was watching the 2006 UV coverage of the finals and I had to keep notes to myself about which players started where, where they went when they went offscreen and what they were likely doing in the space between when I first saw them and then when they were wide-open gaining 30 yards or going for the goal.

Just like when watching football, I have to imagine the pass coverage based on the defensive line and a couple of linebackers while pretending I know what routes the receivers are running based on where the QB is looking and what portions of the defense i can see. I just can't fucking comprehend how this became the standard. I don't want to watch Tom Brady stand around for 4 seconds and throw to someone I can't see. I want to watch the whole play develop. Why is he looking where he is looking? Why is he pump faking? What does he know? What does he see? How is he reacting to the coverage? What sort of sight-adjustments are the receivers making? When is he knowingly throwing into coverage and when does the coverage shift at just the right moment?

GODDAMNIT I LOVE SPORTS AND I WANT TO KNOW MORE!!!!!!!

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Working Working

Watched a lot of video.

Worked out a lot of stuff for pike (at least until Tim tells me it's a dumb idea and we need to rethink something).

Did a 2x Tabata workout plus pullups.

Tabata pushups: 27, 22, 16, 12, 8, 6, 6, 7 (104)
Tabata squats: 25, 24, 24, 24, 24, 24, 25, 22 (192)

Pullups, 5 sets to one less than failure, then rest 1min. w/ last set to failure: 7, 6, 4, 4, 5. Damn I gotta get those back up to 10+...

That 27 was the most pushups I've gotten out in 20 seconds so far. Pretty cool. Still working on ironing out the long-term kinks my body has developed via stretching and foam rollering.

Video Video Video.

Prepping just as much as last year, just not writing about it-- too much to do!

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What Are You Willing to Sacrifice?

Well?

Friends? Family? Significant Other? Food? Money? Health? Weekends? Weeknights? Weekmornings? Job? Education?

What? Not any easy choice?

You're not giving that? Not even part of it? You're not sacrificing? Okay, you're still alright by me, but when we meet on the field just remember that I have no money, no girlfriend, no weekends, no weeknights and no weekmornings because I've made my choice. Alea jacta est.

Let me know if you're happy with your choice, because I'm happy with mine. And truly, in the grand scheme that is all that matters, but in the baby-grand scheme... Well, just know who you're dealing with when it comes to ultimate. When we meet I'll either beat you or/and learn from you. When next we meet? You had better be better than you were because I guaran-damn-tee that will be better than I was.

No matter the outcome of our battle, you'll find no shame in my game because I love the challenge. I know that every time I fail, it just gives me something new to get good at!

I LOVE IT ALL!

(Here ends today's obsessive blog rant. Tim, now is an appropriate time to comment on my brain and its obsession with ultimate. Hope the rest of y'all have fun at Lei-Out. Wish I could make it!)

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Rhino Video (First Imp)

Having watched the video 1/4th of a time and without sound...

It's great because I'm in it! No seriously. I throw a couple goals, have a couple shitty marks, get a sure goal turfed to me and have a callahan caught on me. The last of which results in my flailing awkwardly to the ground. Yup. #79. Not the old #3. I think I might stick with the change...

Anyway, I hope to get a full viewing with sound later so I can say something substantive, but at least I can say I'm in a video doing something worthwhile and ultimate-related now. Nice. Now I just need to do it in a meaningful game...

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First Disc of 2008

New Brunswick... a couple of hours.

Wow did it feel awe(some/ful) to be back out there. I started off with a bang by throwing a turnover on my first in-competition throw of any kind in 2008. That kind a sucked. But then I got some fun poach blocks, threw some goals, caught a goal or two, and threw a decent number of terrible turnovers as I slowly remembered what it was like to play.

And my body was exhausted. I'm just starting to get a little sore now, but... this was the wakeup call that let me know it is time to get in actual shape, not just "better than the fat dude at work" shape.

Got to play against generations of NJ ultimate... from Bailey Saul on down through whichever of the young guys I've yet to meet who was the youngest there and covering many many points in between like wtk9, who is still killin' kids with the bomb. Even the Meat Truck was in attendance! Managed to see some of the college kids from the area, and there is definitely still talent in NJ. I mean, aside from the guys we all know and love from the Jerz. Hope those young guys come out to some tryouts and see what Pike is all about. If not for the fact that they could compete for spots, but could bring the area players to a more shared experience, make all players involved better through increased exposer to competition (even within the same state!) . And even the most conservative of thoughts about the end result for Pike, it would be in their best interests too if only for the experience gained-- tryouts are a part of ultimate and the more experience you have with the process, the better equipped you are to excel at them and in the future run better tryouts on when it is your turn.

The only way to go from young to experienced is to get experience.

I was scared at my first tryout, but that has a lot to do with only knowing bad ultimate. Oh yeah, and Dono getting a fucking layout catchblock on my after my first cut. (Dono: I know you're reading. I just want to remind you that it hasn't happened since, sucker.) He then proceeded to land in a deep puddle of cold cold muddy water covered by ice, give me a little look like "Yup, that's what up," (even though that's not his style, it happened. Coulda been an accident though.) jump up, complete a short pass and take off at warp speed down the field.

And then I knew I had a long long road ahead of me. The other moments when I learned that same lesson with Pike were the Semis year when I finally saw what elite ultimate was and how much work it took. I finally believed that shit Hollander had been putting in my ear. It was go-time. Seeing my teammate (and regular college opponent) Ryan "If you call me in a pull play, they'll come down zone or pull OB" Todd succeed at that level I knew that I could do it to, but I finally accepted that I wasn't yet at that level.

And none of it would have happened without Dono making me feel like I couldn't play ultimate. Thanks, fuckface.

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reset

Time to start again.

Yeah, there's stuff I haven't done (recapping and looking back and all) but now is the time to move forward.

First official workout for Pike 2008 commenced yesterday.

Did 8x(20on/10off) of pushups. 25/20/11/9/8/7/8/8 Wow... I am a bit out of shape. Goal in 2008 is a Pike goal for 2007: 20+ on each group, for a total of 160 pushups in 160 seconds. I can do over that with squats, now time to match with pushups! Quick unchecked math puts me at 96 now with 64 to go!

Did a ton of stretching and foam roller stuff (though I've been doing both regularly since November). They work fantastically well in tandem. I've got so many little injuries which are finally getting workout out of my system. Love it.

Did some work on release points and footwork. It looks goofy as hell, but simply watching yourself throw/fake in a mirror does wonders. Doubly so if you imagine how you would mark yourself. If you have a video camera, that might be better, but I find the immediate feedback of the mirror to be rather helpful after having done the video thing in the past.

Did some other general strength stuff (pullups, lunges, abs/core, balance).

Ummm... about 25 total minutes on strength, 30 minutes of stretching/foamrollering and 15 minutes on release/footwork.

I gotta get out and throw more!

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it is with great trepidation...

...that i send you this email/survey today.

it is my first truly visible act as captain, and i'm sure that i've made some tiny but telling error that will inform you about me and what will come of this coming season that you will latch onto, much as i would have, and mock me about for years to come.

so it goes. mocker to mockee. straddling the line like the colossus?

cervically!

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Two -> One

I feel like I played two ultimate seasons this year.

The first started in February and Ran through December. I went to Hawaii, North Carolina, Pittsburgh, Connecticut, Philly (at least twice), Fredericksburg, and maybe more? I was often late. I was never really playing that hard. I was very intoxicated. I got lost and couldn't find my fields. I yapped incessantly to everyone about anything. Including summer league, I won a tournament (Bell Crack, bitches!), played in 3 other finals, won a spirit award, won 2 B brackets, saw Nada Mooger not win Kaimana, won an MVP, dressed up in a suit and tight pants during play, missed a flight, drove all night, never finished lower than 9th in a tournament, generally acted like a goof and had fun no matter how we finished.

The second started in about April and went through October. It consisted of a lot of practices, trips to Delaware, Austin, Boston, Chicago, Maryland, a couple NJ tourneys, Fredericksburg and Sarasota. I was rarely late, though it happened more this year than in the past. I was always playing at least 85-90%, depending on the situation. Though it was often at as close to 100% as I could manage. I was sometimes intoxicated after something. I won two tournaments, made it to the finals in one other, won a spirit award, won five consolation brackets (Including the awesome 7-1 Regionals comeback), saw Sockeye do it again, dressed rather normally, missed no flights, drove a lot of mornings, finished as low at 15th, generally acted rather seriously and had fun for more of the time than I didn't.

Now... it has recently occurred to me to compare these two. As you might have guessed, the first is the non-Pike season of 07, and the second is the Pike season of of 08. (I was thinking about trying to figure out my season record, but I would need more time to do that) I was spurred to compare the two by someone I had dinner with up at a friend's place (that dry-aged steak was fantastic, Jeff) when she asked about why I didn't try as hard to win in all of the games I play. (She had just played with me at Turkey Bowl) and I didn't have an answer.

It was a question that, up until about 04, that no one would have dreamt of asking me. That was back when I would have done nearly anything to win in any game at any time at any tournament. Why? I was so used to losing with NYU that I had to get it out of my damn system. I had to win games to feel like a not-terrible player. This need led to fights with some of my fun-tourney teammates and to me not enjoying myself at that sort of tournament. I didn't wanna party, i wanted to win. That is all. Nothing else was relevant. And we won a decent amount of games. A lot of them by a point or two because we were playing a lot harder than our opponents. It was always the same core group of NYU almus who loved playing and wanted to pretend that we were good in college by winning against players who, like EVERYONE else, beat us in college.

But of late, when I play at tournaments like that (especially this year's performances at Fools' Fest, Ultimax, Mars, Mosh and Turkey Bowl), I take it so lightly that I'm clearly not attempting to do anything other than something ridiculous. Goofing off, drinking as soon as I get to the fields. Sometimes earlier. Consistently attempting the hardest throw that I think I can complete and never really playing defense except to look for a cheap block. I'm not bad, I just play with abandon.

Now, why? To prove that I can have fun, I think. To myself and to others. And I can. now, why else? no real answer at all.

so as I start thinking about my season and determining which of the two sounds like more fun to me, I still don't really have an answer. I like both of them. I love the fun and carefree feel around the first one. The constant uplifting emotion of enjoying the moment and the day adn all of that. the second is full of such investment and reward. Giving myself to something, to a team, so fully is fun. To work so hard on the fine, detailed points of my game and to work to become a cohesive team. I love all of that too! Why do I have do choose?

Why Indeed.

I would say two pivotal tournaments for me in these senses both occurred at the same fields. Everyone's favorite, John Lee Pratt Park in Fredericksburg, VA. These fields have been used for Fools' Fest and Regionals as long as I've been going to either. And likely before that. They're not great fields, but they're not terrible and it is isolated enough to feel like a separate world, but close enough to stuff (locally and regionally) that it isn't a trek to get there or to find somewhere to get what you forgot. The first tourney there was Fools' Fest (recounted more in-depth here). I played with the Spirit-Award Winning, 30-person strong, mixed runners-up Tight-Ass Country Club. Between Bailey, myself, and some other acutely nonchalant players we ensured that no point would go by without something exciting happening. I think we even lost once or twice on the first day. I guess I could check the files. We had fun though.

The second trip there was for Regionals (recounted more in-depth here). I was all on my serious "face-ripping" game and, while I was trying perhaps to take a bit too much on my shoulders, I was playing well until I went down with an injury. Then I was sour and sulked a bit for ht rest of the day. I did my best to cheer and pay attention, but I was so worried about the next day that I couldn't focus. Same at dinner. The next day, I knew I had a little bit in me, but that I wouldn't be able to play multiple games. So I tried to be the best cheerleader I could be. And I watched the team and the way they responded to different plays and players and celebrations and all of that. I started to see what got us fired up. Then when I got to the game-to-go, I knew what to do. I had to be relentlessly positive, but within the framework of team-level dedication and serious play. A tough balancing act, for sure, but one that paid off. As I worked to keep the team up and believing, we made a phenomenal comeback as all the breaks that went against us early, went for us late. Sometimes you just need to keep believing that it will happen for it to actually happen. If you stop believing, you won't try as hard and it might not happen!

At that point, in that moment and every time I reflect on it, I realize that the key is locked in that moment. Being tied to your teammates and focused solely on that game. While trying so hard and having so much fun the whole time. No yelling, only cheering. Contagious enthusiasm mixed with a strong will to win. Fools' Fest mixed with Regionals.

And that pattern continued at Nationals, until the last game when I soured on life for a while. (Which happens from time to time and has to do with a lot more than just ultimate.) But the experience happened there too. In fits and spurts. The D team would make a run here or there and the feeling would come back. Working as a unit, firing on all cylinders and being all smiles, even coming off of the field after failure and talking about what to do next point. That joy. Keeping yo' head up against all odds, as they say.


now, why would I do anything different at Mosh, Turkey Bowl and Ultimax? I still needed to get away from Pike and kick back at those tourneys. The season ended on a real down note for me personally, and I needed to know that ultimate wasn't always like that. now? I've got to figure out a way to merge it all together. I want to have fun no matter the outcome, but I want to win every game. I want to smile all the time, but I want to demand more from my teammates and have them demand more from me. I want to smile with my teammates. I want to smile at and joke with my opponents while I destroy them.

I want to breathe in the tense of competition and breathe out the joy born of truly enjoying the moment. I want to love both-- to get more basic: I want to love more moments in my life.

In 2008, my goal is dual: Smile before-n-after every point and play every point to win.

Sure, it is cheeee-z, but I think it is exactly where I need to go. I have 2 other things to work on fro 08, but I'm not going into that now.

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Pike Future

So, now I’m one of the co-captains of Pike.

The team nominated and voted and all of that and now the captains are me and Tim Johnson.

This will, no doubt, change the nature of this blog. In some ways it’ll let me talk about new stuff, in other ways, it might could restrict the sort of thing that I used to talk about freely. Maybe. Maybe not. We’ll play it by ear, but I’d be surprised if this doesn’t change what is written here. Not that I’m ever truly lucid here anyway.

It will also change the nature of me, Pike, Tim Johnson, and any number of other things that I haven’t yet considered. Though for now, I won’t get into that.

If you’re interested in how I feel about it, I’m ecstatic. Truly. I find that when I’m in a position of leadership, I hold myself to a much higher standard and I play better, harder and have more fun. I plan to work to make Pike better every day.

If you or anyone you know is interested in trying out for Pike 08, let me (or Tim Johnson) know!

Oh yeah… I might write a bit about Ultimax. I might not. That was a crazy trip.

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inspiring as always

Ross Enamait lays the smack down.

Hell yes!

Love that guy.

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Turkey Bowl

I guess I should write something about Turkey Bowl…

But I’m not sure I’m up to the task. My memory of that tournament is hazy.

We got up pretty early to get picked up just over the border in NY. No real problems there. Bought some coffee and some beer. The woman behind the counter expressed some degree of alarm about the beer, but we worked through it together. Upon arrival, it was pretty cold and windy. But once you get your hands used to it, you’re fine.

First game was against someone with yellow jerseys who were grousing about getting the game started on time. We scored the first three points. I don’t think it was close. I did have what turned out to be a pretty gratuitous bid on this one. I, for some reason, thought that my defender was going to make a play on a disc that was thrown to me, but actually closer to him, so I bid to cut it off as early as possible, but he didn’t even react to the pass. I looked foolish.

Second game was against assman’s team. I think I had met him before. During the 25 minute point we argued about a couple of calls, drank some rum and stood around. I had to sit out for about 40 minutes after that one. Forget it. Marathon points are done for me until Pike starts back up. That was a terrible experience. We ended up winning this one after a comeback of sorts.

Third game was against the Smartwhores, which is a bunch of coed Swarthmore alums and some other people from NYC. And Alex de Frondeville for some reason. There was a dizzy-bat shotgun for pull involving Alex “The Count” de Frondeville, John “The Uncertainty Principle” Patterson, Julie “clap, clap” Sussman “clap, clap,” and a fourth party whom I cannot remember. As expected, The Count defeated The Uncertainty Principle handily in the shotgun, though he did give back a little ground in the dizzy-bat section. Unknown Person did her best to give the lead back to a rallying clap clap, but managed to just cross the finish line in time.

The other team beat us by a bit. Not sure why. Could have been any number of factors including, but not limited to, resorting to “catching more passes in the endzone than us” as a dominant strategy. Intriguing, to say the least. Effective to, to say more.

We then had a game against someone else in the battle for a tie for 4th or 5th or something. We won that one. And then we had some Turkey Dinner and sat in the cold. For some reason. I think there was a final going on at some point, but I was not interested because it was far away from the food and I got the feeling that some of them were taking it seriously. On the other hand, that is prime heckling territory…

Eventually we went home.

Thanks to the one and only Rick Kahn for bringing that team together. Let’s do it again.

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Imperfect Grip

I think one of my greatest strengths as a thrower is to be able to throw with an imperfect grip.

Not that I have a bad grip on my flick or backhand or anything, but when are situations during play for whatever reason (weather, quick grip switch, greatest attempt, whatever) and I am left with an imperfect grip, I can still complete my passes.

A great example of this was at Chesapeake this year when I picked up the disc from the ground after a stoppage and prepared to throw to someone (dono?) cutting deep, as was the play call. It was an incredibly humid, sweaty day and everyone had expressed the difficulties they were having. As I went to throw this flick, between cocking the disc back and changing the momentum to go forward, the disc began to slip out of my hand. By the time I hit the release point, it was just on the tip of my index finger. I knew it was in the wrong place, but I managed to snap my finder around a little further than I wanted to and get it to the right place. Completion.

This sort of thing happens when I get fouled on the mark and when I sometimes trip over myself while playing. Or on greatest attempts. for which I seem to have a disproportionate share of. In any case, I find this ability very useful, and I have no idea where it came from or if it is the same for everyone else.

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Throwing/300 Posts

If you live in the metropolitan NY area and would like to throw...

Get in touch. Email's best. Any time. Most anywhere in Manhattan with enough space. Downtown preferred. Jersey City Parking Lots are also available. Weather is not an issue save for absurd extremes.

I also posted 300 times over the year (this is 301). That's a lot. And I have, in theory, another month to increase that. Yow.

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Back to the Future for IV

So... now what?

Well, in terms of what?

ultimatejournal:
I'll be writing, but not as frequently. I still need to compile the hours I spent on the season for kicks. I'll talk about the future of Pike (yes, we have a future, contrary to some particularly poorly informed or purposefully vicious rumors that have been passed my way). I'll talk about some things that I learned this season and what I hope to work on for the next season. Offseason workouts started today. Short, but intense. 2-3 times per week. Still throwing whenever possible. I've got some new things planned for next season as a thrower already. I can still be so much better at this game! I love it. All of those ultimate thoughts (and more!) when I get to them will be put here at this spot. I'd bet that there is still a minimum of one post per week, but that could vary.

my writing in general:
Well, I recently started a non-ultimate blog because I like writing and don't yet have a clear long-term project to work on. For now, I just like picking random topics and writing about them. Or putting down some of the more interesting thoughts I've had over the day. If you want to visit it, visit it. If you don't, whatever. If you can think of someone else who would like to read it, point them at it. It'll be off-the-beaten-path at very least. It might be off-the-beaten-path CRAP, to be fair, but you know. I'll be doing it no matter how good or bad it is because I enjoy it.

other stuff:
What other stuff? This is a blog about ultimate. I talked about that. Tthis blog has writing. I talked about that. Not much else to cover. Well, I could write about PADA Mosh, but why bother? It was ridiculously fun. I was very intoxicated. I think I may have offended a nice young lady from Fordham. I'm sure I offended my teammates. But we all had a good time. I'll be at Turkey Bowl this weekend. That should be fun. Probably be at Ultimax in December. Thinking about Lei-Out. Definitely Kaimana (already bought the tickets). That'll be epic/awesome. Again.

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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."

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Nationals, Day 3 (Pt 3)

And there we were. In the Publix. Contemplating our options for the evening.

No need to purchase food, we’ve got some leftovers since we were always waking up late. Some lamb (now marinated!) for me and some beans or some other shit for whomever bought that. Eggs for the next morning.

Beer.

Of course we need beer. Lots of it. Take no chances running out. Bought a bunch of beer. Modelo Especial and Tecate I think. Maybe some other really cheap stuff to give a base. Unclear. There was still a bunch of PBR left. And then Dan Yi strikes a stroke for genius.

“Hey guys, we need hard alcohol.”

Of course we do, Dan. Of course we do. As he sets off to purchase this, Mio and Jamie share an intense realization as we are loitering near the wall of beer.

“We need something to mix this with.”
“Yeah. I don’t want OJ or anything like that either.”
“Nah. Too healthy.”
“Yup.”
…
…
…
“Do you see what I see?”
“Yup. It’s perfect.”
“And TWO flavors!”
“I know. It’s like, which crime do you want to be arrested for tonight, Assault or Khaos?”
“Clearly Khaos.”
“Clearly.”

At which point a bunch of Monster “Khaos” (That’s the flavor, mind you) was purchased. This was phenomenal. There are few things that will make you make terribly entertaining decisions like a bunch of alcohol plus energy drink. This is why Sparks is such a phenomenon. They capitalized on the “Gambler’s Delight” crazy for Red Bull and Vodka by making an energy drink that is already chock full of alcohol. That’s a story about PADA Mosh though. I’ll save it.

So we walked out with a bunch of vodka, beer, energy drinks and random shit to head home and cook up some food. Done.

At some point, there was meat-juice on the floor while I was cooking. No fault of mine. Jamie’s teenage girlfriend, a vegetarian, then stepped in said meat juice. That was awesome. For the record. Even though you weren’t there and I can’t tell this story in an entertaining way, I thought you should know that this is the sort of thing I find funny. “You might be an asshole if…”

There may have been some napping and the like, but not from me. It was beer o’clock and someone had already done the buyin’.

Eventually we decided to wander around and the like. I went to the hot tub for a minute. Ran into some Pikes. Stayed there. Then I went back to the room and decided that I must go directly to the beach without collecting $200 or passing Go. I took the rest of the room with me. They had their Khaos, I had my beersling.

Beersling, you say? Well, I’m not sure what exactly it is called, but imagine a cooler shaped like a snake. The length of 6 cans of beer put end to end. Slightly larger in circumference than a beer can. With a strap that goes over your shoulder. Openings on both ends. And a really effective insulator. In the colors of the Sydney Swans. Best part? It was a gift from my sister from her trip to Australia. This thing is phenomenal. Perfect for ultimate and the beach. And it just so happens that I’m at an ultimate tournament on the beach. Nice.

So we went down tot eh beach. No one was there. So we “walked around and drank some more.” Eventually we headed back to the condo. Jamie, Dan Yi, Mio and Jamie’s Teenage Girlfriend all went pool-hopping. I went back to get more beer. At this point the details get fuzzy. Things I remember specifically (In no particular order):

• Long walk to see someone.
• Incorrect spacetime.
• Back again.
• On the beach.
• 5am Free Beer on the beach.
• Rosham. The Karl Doege. A Jim Parinella.
  
• Some twisted game of “Guess who I am” with the boys from 5ultimate and someone who is married to someone on Bravo. There were no winners.
• Finding assholes asleep in the condo. Weaksauce.
• Waking up somewhere on the beach at some point.
• Nightswimming.
• “BEERSLING, BITCH!”
• The lonely letdown.
• Boys and Girls in America.
• The beginning of Pike 2008.

The rest of the details are either not remembered or not fit for this space (I know! Even I’m censoring myself! To what has the world come?) The most important one was the beginning of Pike 2008. I tuned the page early this season. Even earlier than last season. I was ready to start planning next year. Scratch that. Not just ready, EXCITED. It was a great internal and individual moment to experience.

One more part to retell… and it involves things other people remembered from the night before and some recollections/thoughts from the finals.

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Nationals, Day 3 (Pt 2)

So, we got ready to heckle semis and all of that.

This meant, first and foremost, getting in comfortable clothes, checking some fire safety around the complex, running into people you know in the ultimate world and getting to the beer garden. There’s some time before it all really gets started in terms of games, but it isn’t an eternity.

All of those tasks were accomplished, and our things were in our car. As was the teapot that we had used to transport coffee to the fields as well as the coffee mugs from The Palm Bay Club that we had borrowed. This is better than everyone drinking out of the teapot. Trust me. That was on option.

It was at this point that the ridiculousness of the year struck me. Aside from the general absurdity of sports, I also play a sport that no one watches and that no one outside of the immediate community cares about. Above that, I’m pretty fucking good (not the best just yet, that’s coming as I keep working!) at it, I spend a ton of time, energy and money on it, and I travel all over the place to play. Past that, you look around at the teams and players here and you know that there is still something completely and utterly non-standard about it. Frisbees? Really? Goofy names like “Johnny Bravo” are among the best at the sport? You’re just as likely to hear a discussion about the merits of various high-level theories in [insert discipline here] as you are a discussion about the nerdiest way to heckle your teammates as you are a discussion of the disgusting workout regimen that so-and-so put together or the nuances of various dump setups on the field.

All the while, there’s this ridiculously beautiful expanse of grass on which some of the absolute best teams/players in the game have been doing battle on for the last couple of days. A battle which will only intensify over the next 1.5 days as the weaker teams are weeded out over the final two rounds of every division (And then the Pickup division is doing something else with fewer rounds). The guys you see at this level are dedicated players. In at least some sense. Physically or mentally or emotionally or tactically they are dedicated to the game. They work their asses of in some way to get there. To get to this spot in a completely absurd game that no one takes seriously.

And I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.

Sure, those pangs of “I need to be playing here instead of watching” come and go, but you still need to celebrate your life, not mourn your past. So I did. And most other former-competitors did too. At some point, you think about yours season and it all makes sense now. The mistakes you made in February or March are played out in the way you and your team progressed. The strange gut feelings you had about your team have come to pass (or not) and you can understand the season with as complete a data-set as you can ever have. While having beer. While watching some high-level players. In the Florida Sun, in November, withouta real care in the world…

As we sat down to watch the semis, we were again irritated by the lack of proximity of the beer garden to the games we were going to watch. Sorry, Amp, I wished you luck, but as I told Furf before, I’m not gonna watch y’all unless you make the finals. I don’t have to play against y’all. I can learn more by watching my division. Mental notes, real notes and an idea of what other teams are doing to be as good as they are. What works? What doesn’t? What styles of play? How would my team compare? What strategies would I use to counter theirs? Is that similar to what the other teams are doing? Who are the palyers I need to know about? Who I need to prepare for when I face them?

There is no offseason, truly. Just a change in focus.

Went over to the Goat/Bravo game first. Because, well, it started first. My statement before this one was that this was a batch matchup for Goat because the two teams played a similar enough style (get the disc going downfield to your dominant players and have them make plays) that the determining factor would be athleticism. I felt that Bravo beat them in that category and said that it would be a 15-10 Bravo win. I was wrong. I twas 15-11. Shoot. The game itself was fun to watch as there was an opening salvo from Bravo to jump ahead, followed by Goat battling back into the game. Then Bravo took it after half, extending an 8-7 lead to a 15-11 victory. The soft kind, as they won on O, not D, but it still counts as a 15-11 victory. Popiel was a huge in this game. That guy ain’t bad.

The next game we were excited for as it had an ex-Pike element with Jaeger as well as an Idris element with, well Idris. Little did we know that Jegor would be covering Idris. Delightful. This left myself, J, Hollander, Walt, Buhl and Jamie to discuss on the sideline. First order of business was how much we hated Jaeger. Second order was what Jamie thought of Idris. Third order was watching the game and drinking beer. 3 for 3. That means I accomplished something today. I remember we asked for predictions, but I can’t remember them. I cast my vote clearly behind Sockeye as I felt that despite Jam’s history as a team, the advantage of being together in a system for multiple tuitle-winning years made Seattle the favorite. Recent finishes ahead of Sockeye and the victory at ECC (or Laborday?) over them did little to sway me of this thought. I was sure that it would be closer than the other semi. If only because this was the big show. The late men’s semi. The one that everyone watches. I don’t recall a blowout in this one since I’ve watched nationals, but I could be making that up. Facts just get in the way of my story.

IT was fun to watch the Idris/Jaeger matchup as you could see Jaeger working to push Idris away from the disc. It was pretty effective as Idris seemed reluctant to force the disc into his hands near the disc and content to make pretty solid deep cuts that were not thrown to. Probably because he trusts his teammates. At some point Idris got a come-from no-where block on a dump after an O-team turnover (maybe even his throw) which was quite the piece of playing defense in the style of “Identify where the other team will throw the disc and just meet it there.” Which is always fun to see.

As Sockeye pulled away, someone in the area said that it was time for Jam to make their run. And they obliged. Closing from being down 13-10 to tie the game at 15s, Jam brought the crowd back into it, just as they were getting ready to leave or just go to the beer garden full-time. Sockeye scores on O with a Kubalanza flick to a short-yardage conversion. On Jam’s O-point, there are at least 3 turnovers. One by Jam, one by Sockeye and another by Jam. Then Sockeye finishes it off with some Wiggins action and one of those tall Nordic-Carleton types catching a goal. 17-15, Sockeye. Good game.

Time to go drink more.

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Nationals, Day 3 (Pt 1)

This day definitely started better than the last.

The Palm Bay Club early in the am is a nice place to be. Start the coffee up and take a little stroll around the way. The area is just secluded enough that you don't see many people. And of those you do, approximately 97.46% play ultimate. Then you have the opportunity to detrmine how social you are.

As you catch eyes with all of the ultimate players in the morning, how do you acknowledge them? Stare them down? Give a little nod? Smile? Say "Good morning" softly? Start a conversation? Shout something silly? I, of course, am too busy thinking these things to pick an option ("And time yet for a hundred indecisions,/And for a hundred visions and revisions,/Before the taking of a toast and tea.") and end up doing parts of every option I've considered. This ends with something like a half-wave/half-smile combined with a knowing grunt/cough that varies in volume. Not so slick, slick.

Get back into the condo and get to makin' breakfast. Omelet it is! Coffee is ready to go (I can tell by the heavenly smell!) and I've got the ipod on. I'd rather have speakers, but this'll do. Actually it better tunes out the awesome snoring power of the teammate sleeping on the fold-out couch. I think he's sleeping there in part because I refused to sleep in the same room on the grounds the only two outcomes over the first night is that I would get no sleep at all or he would wake up in a pool of his own blood. It really is a sound to be-hear.

Everyone gets up well in time today and since there will be no traffic (Hooray Saturday!) there is no real rush to get to the fields. Oh yeah, and we're playing in the shitbox. Not that I'm not still excited to be here, but it always take a bit of wind from your sails. Just a bit. In my mind, the important game today is the first one. Win that and you're 13/14. Lose that and you're 15/16. I mean... One guarantees that you finish ahead of two teams while the other guarantees you finish ahead of one team. Once you start falling down the ladder, I find that this is a good motivator for me. Or at least, the best motivator I've got to tell myself that these are big games. I get up more for big games. Maybe that's a virtue, maybe that's a fault, but that's who I am and I don't think I want to change it.

Get to the fields and take ultimate's version of "The walk of shame" to the furthest fields from anything. I mean, you can drive over and park closer to these fields, but then in your haste to get to the beer garden later, you might leave the car there. And still... the drive makes you feel even more isolated from the ultimate world. At least with the walk, you can run into some people you know and remember what it feels like to be warming up for the quarters on the big stage instead of shitbox games on the off-off-off-off-off-off-off-off-off-off Broadway stage.

My body is killing me today. My feet are aching and covered in blisters (this is what happens when you can't really run around in cleats for 3 weeks before the biggest 3-day tourney of the year), my throwing shoulder is feeling a little fatigued, and there's still the quad thing that never fully went away. And of course the usual mystery bruises and scrapes. Oh, but there's a really interesting injury too. My hands. My hands are swollen and bruised from clapping too much and too aggressively. That's odd. I don't think that has happened before, but it, uh, really hurts to catch, clap or slap fives. Not good times. This is what happens when you move to the D team from the O team. You become dumb enough to hurt yourself clapping. Damn.

Game time.

vs Doublewide, 9-13
We had some little tiffs with them when we were in Austin for Livelogic, but nothing crazy. I got to talk to Max a bit in those games which was cool. I've definitely played against a bunch of these guys outside of club ultimate (Goofball tourneys, somewhere else? I don't know.) and was a little surprised to see them down here. At some point, the frustration of both teams for being in this spot got the better of Max and Schmucker who had a little tussle. This led to the wonderful moment when your captains pull you apart, have little team meetings and tell everyone to stop being dicks. I'm never really sure if that is the right time to say something goofy or not. It might be. Regardless, we got over it and finished the game out. I think we took the lead early in this game and then managed to let it slip away late in the first half or early in the second half. I got my first actual D of the tourney at some point in this one. I mean, I had other teams throw the disc to me, or my guy threw it away with some help from the mark, but this was an actual block, which I don't remember happening before this. Handlers are irritating to cover. They played better than us and won it as our team kinda fell apart as the game went on.

I think the weekend had really begun to wear on people at this point. Losing 6 in a row can do that to you. Near the end of this one, I was playing a point and we eventually got scored on. I just kinda deflated when it happened. I was suddenly acutely aware that every step I took hurt like hell-- running and changing direction, doubly so. Up to that point, I had been able to put it out of my mind and power through. But the ball of negativity that our team had become combined with the ball of pain that my body had become to take it all out of me. I felt like the only thing that could make me play another point at this point was if my life actually depended on it. I then made a decision that I began to regret in the afternoon. I decided that I wouldn't play in the next game. I rationalized it in all kinds of ways in my head at the time, but in the end, it was quite likely the wrong decision.

Hindsight, as always, is 20/20.

In the parlance of our times, "Mistakes were made." Oh wait, that's just a copout. Mistakes weren't made. Mistakes were made by ME. Step up and own your fucking mistakes at very least.

Anyway, the tourney went on...

vs The Van Buren Boys, 11-10
Not sure how this game started or went really. I watched it, and I felt like we were winning the whole way, but then when the game ended it was much closer than the 15-10 victory I was expecting. I don't know what that means, but that's how it felt.

After the game, we had a little huddle and talked for a quick minute about what else was going on, where the quarters were and all of that. Talked about the season a little bit and that sort of thing. And then something completely unexpected happened. I found out that I was nominated for the Farricker Spirit Award. Huh? I mean, I think that I play a clean, principled and fair game but if someone asked me if I would ever win a spirit award, I would say that they're nuts. I mean... I'm kind of a jerk. As this went through my head and processed a bit, I actually started to think of myself as a pretty spirited player. Even when I get a little hot under the collar, I don't cheat and act in a respectful manner. I have made mistakes, but those mistakes all involved what I feel are completely reckless and dangerous plays that put players in harm's way with no actual reward in sight. No matter how nice a person you are, if you don't let people/players know that it is not appropriate to endanger you, your teammates or friends I feel you are no longer being nice, now you're being timid. They are different.

Anyway, forget that strange, tangential rumination on spirit and what it means to me, but the fact of it is that our team decided that I should have this award. I was really honored and touched. There was something about this, for Pike, actually being the "Team First" award and that made it mean a little more to me. "Thanks, guys. Sorry I let you down in that last game there. [Insert something that would make that excusable here]." is what I wanted to say. Instead I said nothing. I'm a weird dude.

After this, we headed to the beer tent for some, uh, beer. Or did we go grab some food first? I don't know. But eventually, we found out that the open semis would not, in fact, be held near the beer garden. This was upsetting. I know that the UPA is trying to be fair and to promote all of the division and all... but really? How many people watch the open semis vs the women's and mixed semis? (I think there's another "pickup" division at Nationals, but I saw no evidence of it) I tried to look for photo evidence of this, but I got bored. A great illustration would be a picture from the top of the pavilion or grandstand or whatever that is. It isn't even close. And the only reason it is even in the same ballpark is because the beer is closer to the other divisions. Got no problem with the other divisions, all joking aside, but let's acknowledge which division draws the bigger crowd, put them on the main fields and serve the beer there. Damn!

Anyway, some parts of the tale of the semis and the night will come later.

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