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.
Yeah, I guess you all are going to know what happened next weekend, just like you all know what happened at the Invite and in Madison, in fall tournaments, at practice last Thursday, and that’s good for you—those are all nice things to know. My guess is that you’ll all know some more important things by then, too.
The end of the season is a funny time practice-wise: about now, you realize that you aren’t going to change much about your game anymore. Maybe you can learn one more strategy week, and maybe you’ll remember that a few times next weekend. The thing is: at this point, the season is nearly predetermined. Physically, you worked as hard as you worked; maybe you can exhaust yourself this week trying to train, but that course of action isn’t going to pay off this weekend. You know what you’ll be taking to state next weekend, and if you aren’t happy with it, all you can decide is to work harder next year; this one was over way before it felt like it.
I hate it when people are complacent. I’m not telling you not to try to improve, although I think your physical actions in the upcoming week will have significantly less impact on your game than they did during the season and the preseason. Physically, you’ll probably start tapering this week, but, if you haven’t already, this is the time to toughen up mentally.
One thing to do is assess your game. Know your strengths and weaknesses (go over them with a teammate or coach, if possible), and figure out how to play to your strengths. Know the circumstances under which you’re the most qualified player for a particular action and know what to do even if you aren’t and have to take that action anyway.
Thinking about practicing with some of you over spring break reminds me another important aspect of the game that you can still work on. One day that week, we did a drill I don’t like very much: we ran around the field trying to catch up to each other, and, if someone caught up to the person in front, he or she could stop running.
My problem is not with the running; what I dislike about that drill is that there’s a way out of the running. That’s the thing: there’s no way out of working hard, and running hard, other than being bad at ultimate. You don’t get to stop running just because you beat your defender one time. You don’t get to stop running just because you beat your defender every time on Saturday.
The truth is that you’re going to have to run as long as you play ultimate. You might as well get good at it, but there’s another aspect to running: no matter how good you are at it, YOU have to make yourself do it; It doesn’t matter how much your teammates or coaches yell at you—-you’re still the only person who can make you run. At some point on some Saturday or Sunday, you’re going to realize that you’re running on will alone. And that’s when you have to define yourself through your mental resilience. And, not quite coincidentally, that’s when you win: not just championships and self-pride, not only the respect of teammates or the envy of your opponents. That’s when you earn the title: BALLER. Wear it proudly. Wear it with dignity.
Fire up, East!
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