Saturday, November 12, 2005

The Last Shall be First and the First Shall be Last..

would be a great headline if we'd stormed through our pool and won a bunch.

We didn't. We played hard, and we played really well. But we picked up only 1 win today.

First game: Harshmellows. Funny team name. Generally annoying and entitled. I've rarely been on a field where the other team just figured you owed it to them to quit and let them win. These guys (and to some extent their women) were salty and surly. I play fairly well. I start the morning winded. Something about not eating more than 4 meals in the last four days...apparently that's not a good choice. It's funny I make a big deal of training for frisbee, but I do things like skip meals (repeatedly) in the week before the tournament. Despite not being able to catch my breath for most of the day, I have a great time in game one and play really quite well. The team does well and we make it closer than the 15-8? score suggests. We force these guys to actually play defense, but as a veteran squad they're able to clamp down and roll through the second half.

Game Two: Sludge. Also veterans, but much nicer. They run zone all day and we do a good job of getting through it. RAZE does not have the strongest handlers on earth, and we sometimes (myself primarily) make some dumb hero throws (as in...this is really hard, but if it works I'll be a hero). Midway through, I have a huge layout (don't get the disc, stupidly) and really come down hard. Entire left side of my body is sore. Shoulder, hip, and chest. The strain sets off some vaguely spasm-y things in my lower back. And midway through the game it hurts to cut because of a bruise on my left heel. And yet, it's a great game and I'm loving it. We lose.

Game Three: Cardinal Sins. Mainly this team has 4 weapons. A guy named Dave Epping who is, throughout the DC ultimate scene, known for being a jerk. A foul calling machine, he's a decent handler but in general not a nice guy. True to form, a couple of points in I sky him (my waist at his shoulders) come down turn and throw. And a couple of seconds later I hear him call "foul." His explanation, "I feel like you might have pushed me to get to the disc." This, of course, did not happen, but we send the disc back, and play on, because I don't play well angry. Arguing it won't make it better.

Their other weapons are much nicer, Chris Schultz (played on the D-line for Drive Through Liquor, a perennial nationals team from Colorado) and his wife Kiska, and this guy Bobbins. I spend most of the game being guarded by Schultz, and find myself able to fairly easily get the disc. Turns out I'm able to play with nationals level players. Good to know. We go up a point or two. They take half. We come out flat after half, then rally and finally fail. Throughout the game we're losing players to injury. Shamik goes down (comes back). Matt has a calf cramp. Tin (is cramping). It's frustrating. Certainly a game we could have won. But it's B league, which to me means that it's not worth being really concerned about. So following our third loss we get the...

BYE. We have a 3rd round bye. The team hangs out and we get in some pretty stellar heckling. Shamik and I go heckle for heckle, each getting some good ones. The harshest was mine which can written but was never used--as it was too vicious: "His hucks are like old people's bladders: inconsistent and with frequently embarassing results." Funny, but too harsh to be said to anyone. Especially coming from a guy like me, who generates a bunch of turnovers.

Game Four: Sunday's at Six. We win. They're exhausted, we're tired and stiff from our bye. Mainly it's chance to play with and against friends (several BRDMers on their team). Good time. Nothing terribly remarkable.

So we finished the season at 2 and 9, winning our first game and our last game.

As I head off to bed, I realize that I can finally breathe fully (my chest hurt until a few minutes ago), that while my hip and leg ache, they still work and it's only a bruise. Though I have discovered that my knee is swelling or at least not functioning very well. And yet, as you already know from reading this: 1) I wish I could play more 2) I will play more 3) I'll complain, but next weekend I'll wish there were a tournament at which I could again reinjure myself.

Such is the nature of my obsession, such is the depth of my addiction.

The next morning update: After nearly 12 hours of sleep, my hip still hurts, though not too much. My back is realigned and no longer sore. My knee is not doing well. It doesn't hurt A LOT but it certainly hurts. But, and this is great, I have a doctor's appointment at 10am on Monday. So I'll be able to get my knee checked out. How's that for good timing.

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