East Ultimate

I remember this time of the season well. In one week from now, you all will know who won the open and mixed Colorado High School ultimate championships. That’s cool, I guess. By this time there should be some pump-up letters circulating on the mailing lists; if not, someone’s slacking and should get on that. Y’all should be a little bit excited right now.

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June 17 and 18 is the Solstice Tournament in Eugene, Oregon. Keep an eye on the UPA results page, and, of couse, root for Tina and Rare Air!

The next three practices and the following weekend are all that’s left. After Sunday, East Ultimate in its 2006 incarnation, the East Ultimate we all know, will cease to exist. In all likelihood, it will be the last day many of us will play together, ever. Maybe some graduating players will play together in college. Maybe there will be alumni games. Regardless, they will never again be East Ultimate: there will be a different name on the jersey. We will be former teammates.

I remember this time last year better than I remember most of this school year. It was warm: the prospect of sitting under a tree with seniors (class of 2005 at that time) and various older elements became much more appealing than gym class. Yearbooks appeared (in all their Dr. Seuss-ish glory) and I tried to think of something interesting to write, but probably failed. We realized that it was only a few weeks until the phoenix demise of East Ultimate and were saddened. The state tournament came and went; a semi-final elimination at the hands of Grandview strengthened the resolve of non-graduating players. We had an end-of-season party. We played in summer league and pickup and participated in various other inanities. And then people went to college and it was over. We recruited new players and put work into the new team with various hopes (Derek will have to get back to me on exactly what they were then and are now) for the new season.

That new season is almost over now. There were times when we felt invincible and times when we couldn’t put three passes together. Statistically, this season has not been particularly impressive: third place at the Invite from a forfeit; one win at the Mudbath. The little inter-league play we saw was decidedly unimpressive. Harsh mathematic algorithms dictate that we are not favorites.

We have a lot to prove in a little time. This time next week, seniors will be ready to check out. Our season will be over. Most probably we will be nursing various injuries and abrasions, no matter the outcome of this tournament. This tournament, however, will be a measure of our team, not in outcome but in play. Derek calls it transcending, but the truth is that number of syllables has little to do with what we will try to accomplish. We’re certainly out there to win. Just as certainly, it’s not going to be easy.

More certain than either is the fact that this is the last time you can break even. This is the time when you can give back to your teammates. Out-of-bounds throw at the invite? D’ed up in Madison? Bad throw choice? Bad throw? It’s ok; this is your chance to get it back. This is the last time you’ll play with us. This is a last shot at redemption, ultimate-wise at least. When you’re out on Sunday, asphyxiating, bleeding (why do I always bring up blood?), thinking too hard about whether or not to spend it, you’ll chose to sacrifice yourself for this reason. It’s not the trophy, the picture in the magazine, the ability to be “defending champions,” not even the adoration and affection to be earned from the opposite gender; we’re out for one reason, and that’s getting our teammates’ backs. There is no throw too simple, catch too easy, offense or defense too bad to justify forgetting that you are playing for everyone your team.

We can call it anything we want, but, in the end, it turns out that at the end or the season, our team is over and nothing you thought was constant actually is (with the exception of masses of various subatomic particles, et al). It doesn’t matter if we don’t allow a single point this tournament; technicality says that won’t be a team after the weekend. There won’t be the three practices a week, or the soreness, or any other fact of playing for East Ultimate. All that will matter is that you put into the team as much as you got from it. Let’s do it.

Effective defense is either a product of being awesome or cheating. Usually, though, it’s a combination. Awesomeness occurs in man defense when everyone can beat their offensive counterpart, which would entail everyone backing or standing next to the person they cover (because they can’t get beat); not very easy or likely in reality. As such, I won’t waste your time talking about it any more. The sad reality is that (some) cheating is normal. Happily, though, we don’t call it cheating. In ultimate, we call defensive cheating “poaching,” “fronting,” “backing,” “sponging,” “zone,” or simply “being smart.” The basic idea is that you don’t have to have an entirely physically superior team (although I’d be the last to tell you not to try) to shut an offense down. And if you were hoping I’d dispense with the 10 Painless Secrets to a Sick Defense right now, you’re lazy (oddly enough, a lot of athletes are lazy); being smart is something you learn at practice and by playing.

But because defense appears to be the order of the weekend and I’m not about (or able) to give you any helpful information regarding strategy, let’s (and, by the contracted “us” in there, I mean “me”) talk about defensive mentality. In general, the mental aspect of ultimate, or anything else, is a sort of “X-Factor:” it is hard to quantify and control, hell, scientifically it shouldn’t really account for anything. Nevertheless, ye of little faith (by which I mean chemists), I’m going to take the time to enlighten y’all. So dig it.
I’m not going to tell you that playing defense all crazy mind-over-matter stuff, but it is crazy. And abrasive (physically, although moody defenders, like me earlier this year, aren’t much fun either). As any good Buddhist will tell you about life in general, playing a defensive mental game is a story of want and suffering. But the want is based on something more than the food-seeking aspect human instinct: it’s about entitlement and need. You need the disc, and what’s more, you goddamn well deserve it. You worked harder for it, and it’s time to put down. You’re keeping the balance between good and evil in the universe: ensure that hard work pays off. It’s for the public good! You’re practically performing community service: show them that if you want to win, you have to get better; you’re out to force them to stop playing poop frisbee.

There’s a fun defensive game were you attempt to telepathically communicate with the defendee (that would be the person against whom you are playing defense) and tell him or her “You have no idea how good I am. I mean, you have no concept of how good I am. It’s like a parallel universe, dude; you can’t understand.” And then you’re in a frame of mind where you hope they make the mistake of throwing it to your person because you’re about to go over his or her shoulder. But then you have to back it up by getting a sick block or at least shutting your player down, because otherwise you would feel silly. And no matter what just happened, it’s necessary for you to keep thinking like that through the whole game, through the whole day, and through the whole tournament (anaphora, suckas). Defensive mentality has to happen every second you’re on the field playing defense (make sure you’re playing defense, though, because it’s not conducive to icy offense), whether or not your person has the disc or is about to get d’ed, and most of all when you miss the lay out and have grass all up in your drawz and are bleeding all over yourself (which is sick, but why do I only get all bloody when I wear my white jersey?).

The hard part of playing defense is the lack of gratification: only one out of seven people gets the sick d per point (because we do not turn it over, damn it), so be the first one. The glory and scarring is sweet, but you’re out playing for the team. Sick defense is for the team, not the individual glory that comes from doing cool stuff. Defense is an obligation to the team. You are expected to go out and play sick defense, and so you need expect to play sick defense. We don’t do pretty things for bonus points; we do them because they are necessary. We do them for your team.