Tuesday, October 28, 2008
Natties.
No other tourney, for better or worse, can so delete everything that came before it. Team disappointed with their season to date? A timely victory or two in Sarasota and the feeling shared between daiquiris by teammates can change from dejection to jubilation. Similarly, a high-flying team with nary a blemish to their record can find themselves in January wondering what went wrong after a disastrous Thursday.
Fates and Vegas betting lines can change instantly on the whim of the Atlantic winds that blow through the polo fields. A steady offense is a must if you want to have a chance against the fast, often-cheating zones and junk sets that all the teams deploy. Who’s your big backhand? Your giant flick? How good’s your weave, your lateral disc movement? Chances are if you made it to the big show you’ve got a nice toolbox to combat opponents; if you don’t, you’ll find out soon enough.
In my previous 8 club natties I’ve wrestled on sand on a Thursday, passed out face-down in the sand on a Friday, cried on the fields on a Saturday, and cleated up on a Sunday. Anything can happen, and as you gather your bearings after escaping from a barnburner and news trickles over from four fields over about a top seed that wasn’t as lucky you realize anything does happen. The first two days are exercises in surprise. But by the time Saturday comes the best teams have calmed and settled and the n00bs are exposed as such.
The mist hanging like a blanket over the fields in the morning. Strutting at the Publix. The beer garden accelerating Saturday afternoon. Walking along the beach with your frisbeemate or tourney squeeze. Sunday night at the Daquiri Deck. Helping Rob steady his hand for his Ultivillage videos. Mourning and celebrating from morning to night.
As I write this I am chilling at my beach house in full relax. I love this tournament. Love it.
3 comments:
good luck. my true well wishes lie elsewhere, but i'm willing to give you a lift.
i know what you're saying... for me it was a bit different:
nationals one: 1993 selma texas, deer in the headlights, and I join the upside down up the nose uzo club. memorable moment, sky joey giampino.
1994, birmingham: after a promising season, i wrench my quad in the first game.
1995. I blow off the tournament to coach, and play with UGA. for my trouble, cindy fischer of the UPA tells me 4 months later i'm not elligible. (after telling me, on the phone, that I was).
1996: plano texas: play a role in a team that goes to a game with windy for the right to go to the semis. after playing well all weekend, i get pined, and watch us blow a 'lose by less than 4' game.
needless to say, consumables were consumed.
2001. 8th place game, and we qualify for worlds. yeah sockeye.
2002. lose in the semis dissapointingly.
2003 lose in the quarters. see above. my subcalling may have contributed.
2004. the weakest link is discovered.
Buena suerte Hector! Kick some ass in Florida.
~Fro #23
how's about some postminiscing? (reminiscing, i guess...) i've read match's most recent attempt at conveying information through the written word, and now i'd like to hear from someone who actually knows how to use the language to pleasant effect. it probably doesn't bear a response, but if you cared to drop some shit on match ripping on lindsley, this anony blog reader wouldn't think it inappropriate...
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