mischief

Goin' to the show!

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We've finished the day 4-0, winning our games 15-10, 15-8, 15-6, and 15-10. The second game was ugly, the rest of the games were clean and, for the most part, fun.

Day of reckoning

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It's early morning, and I'm heading back to the hotel. Several teammates have left jerseys and shoes and other stuff in their hotel rooms, and I'm going to pick them up. I have mixed feelings about this tournament, feelings I need to resolve, preferably quickly.

Jump like Shirley, not like Paul

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Spent today in Davis, at this year's (here's the full name again) Northern California Mixed Club Division Sectionals of the Ultimate Players Association Club Championship Series. Oddly enough, in a recurring theme, I didn't play this year because of the ankle injury. I thought I was three years out of playing in sectionals, but I was wrong. I played last year, but not the year before. The year before that I played half the tournament, twisting my right ankle in the middle of the finals game against Donner Party.

We finished the day 4-0, eeking a win over King Kong 13-12 (yeah, yeah, double game point). Turns out, if we had lost that game, we still would have won the pool (assuming all the other games went the same), as three teams would have been 3-1, and we would have won on point differential.

Waaaaaay better to win outright.

I just wish I had been able to play. It's hard watching everyone else play, thinking you want to be out there running, throwing, catching, too.

I've given up on this season.

But, like all true ultimate players, there's always next season.

So much for playing

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I'm really beginning to hate the month before Sectionals, the Labor Day tournament in particular. Last year, I had to play on lots of (admittedly OTC) painkillers. The year before I broke four ribs the week after the tournament. The year before, playing Donner, I tripped in a hole at the tournament and sprained my ankle bad enough to require weeks of physical therapy.

So, this year?

Another sprained ankle, tripping in a hole on the mini field we were warming up in.

The team did a great job at taking care of me. So good, as a matter of fact, that at the end of the day, other than the sharp pain at the extreme flexes, I couldn't tell I had injured my ankle.

Mistake, because I had clearly injured my ankle. This morning, when I woke up after half a night without ankle compression. my ankle was huge, with a black, brown and blue ring around it. My mobility with the ankle gone, too.

So, yeah, once again, RICE before Sectionals. Rest. Ice. Compression. Elevation. More like, SLOB. Slow. Lethargic. Old. Bored.

Had forgotten about that

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Years ago (all of maybe two of them), Donner was a powerhouse in mixed ultimate. Coming out of our section, so therefore in our region, Donner was a regular opponent at any local(ish) tournament.

From an outside perspective, Donner was considered a great team, not only for their athletic prowess (national and world champions), but also for their spirit.

They had the outsiders fooled.

Donner players were notorious for agressive, antagonistic, unspirited side line chatter. Any call made against their team was a bad call, whether the call was legitimate or not. Any call made by their teammates was a good call. Any call against them that was later retracted was rewarded on the sidelines with calls of, "good spirit!" but any kept was met with mutterings and complaints of bad spirit.

So, imagine my flashbacks this afternoon when, after a throw out-of-bounds was met with a cacophany of "Send it back!" and "You should just give us that disc back."

A thrower on the opponent's team had put up a huck along the far sideline. Scottie, a longtime Donner player, was open when the throw went up, and started booking to catch it. The disc started drifting out of bounds, so Scottie had to layout to catch it. Sitting in the location near where he was going to layout was a Mischief player. Because he was unable to layout in his optimal location, a layout that would land out of bounds, thereby requiring Scottie to try for a Greatest (with no one around to catch the throw), when he did stand up, be blamed his miss on the Mischief player.

The near sideline oddly agreed, and felt the disc belonged back to them. Clearly, the non-player was interfering, and therefore responsible for the out-of-bounds catch.

Serious flashbacks. Half of the team are Donner players, so I shouldn't be surprised.

Of course...

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Emails like this one from Beth are wonderful, too.

I heart kitt.

That is all

B

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