Saturday, January 21, 2012
Professional ultimate.
I went to the first Rhode Island Rampage tryout last Wednesday evening from 9-11pm.
40 players registered for the event and were tested in running vertical, 35m dash, 300m shuttle (25m turns) and a throwing/cutting gauntlet.
There was a brain-storming session/question opportunity.
Fantasy ultimate roster decisions were discussed.
Split into 4 teams and scrimmage twice.
5v5, make-it-take-it, stall 7, sub on the fly.
It was super fun.
The biggest rival for the Rampage will be the Connecticut Constitution.
The 2nd tryout is Wed 1/25.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Dear Hodags,
2012 approaches, and it's time to take stock in where we are and where we want to be.
Our first tournament of the year is 5 weeks away. As short a time as 5 weeks is, it's even less when you consider that we won't be reunited for another 3 weeks at least. Any opportunity that you might get to throw a disc outdoors, take it. I played pick up yesterday and have this to share: outdoors is not the McClain. Not even close.
People have always touted sports as a way of understanding yourself better, and growing as a person. Repeated often enough and it becomes cliche, like any word repeated it loses is meaning to us. But the truth of the statement remains: playing for the Hodags will teach you a lot about your personal limits, about your capacity for dedication, organization, and sacrifice. In order for us to win the championship this year we will all need plenty of each.
Most of you are young, all of you younger than me, so please listen not to me, but to years of painful experience. You will reach your limits. You will question yourself. What this team demands from each of us will, at times, seem more than what you can give. This may happen at a tournament, a practice, a workout, a test, a class. The location, even the reason for your self-doubt, is unimportant. You will be pushed and will be given an opportunity to give up and stop trying.
The desire to accept that opportunity is natural. No creature willingly hurts itself. We are equipped with a strong sense of self-preservation, and for many thousands of years it helped us to survive from generation to generation. But our genetic code is millenia behind our new purposes and endeavors. We are privileged such that merely surviving is no longer enough. And each of you, by accepting the challenges of this team, have signaled that your goals in life are higher still: you want to explore your boundaries and push beyond them. You want to become your best self.
By definition, this is not easy. The artificial limits our brains place for us are a powerful illusion to overcome. But they can be overcome. Do not hide from your fears of failure - acknowledge them. With the support of our teammates, our wills will strengthen. Resolution is not a word to be paired with the coming of a new year, it is a skill to be practiced and honed. For these next 5 months we will do just that. This team has 27 talented people but zero champions. When Memorial Day ends, I do not want to measure this team on its capacity, but on its accomplishments.
Get ready to work. Get ready to grow. Who you are today as you read this will be a shell of who you become in this next semester. Relish it.
Hhodag Love,
coacHh
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Hucks. Booms. Bombs. Rips. Biscuits. Headshots.
My favorite part of the game is throwing it deep.
I've been learning to throw an ultimate disc for 12 years now and I'm still discovering new ways to improve; still experimenting within the smallest of intricacies to find ways to toss a perfect biscuit. Every day is different and each day provides a new challenge of "relearning" how to release a perfect throw. Which edge holds best in today's air?
I tend to think of a disc flight in the same terms as a disc golf. There is speed, lift, turn, and break. For almost every pass, I have an idea or plan for the entire flight of that specific throw. I'm in love with my IO edge. It lasers fast into space, lifts ever so calmly with the same speeding velocity. It catches the edge and fights with every rotation of spin, before turning sharp over the defender. The most import ingredient to this 4-part approach is putting enough Z's on the disc to turn it over in soft air.
My backhand is all bark and no bite. It floats rather than kills. It will wait for a receiver though, like an open elevator door at a two minute stoplight, it will rise and sit. But to be fair, the backhand has more power and can be thrown consistently farther. I attribute this phenomenon to a single receiver - former roommate Andrew "Skywalker" Mahowald. A rock climbing jump snatch specialist. The catch of preference: Float. Big and floaty. At 6'2, lanky and able to single hand snatch dunk out the planet, then big and readable hucks are just fantastic. I always try to get feedback from my cutters -- so we both know beforehand when the defender is going to get pwnd!
If you haven't had the pleasure of watching the boom headshot video, for shame. It started as an inside joke at Wisconsin about hucks that slowly matriculated into my favorite slang word -- murderballs. The word choice is both funny and appropriate as these long distance throws are game-changers, point-enders and momentum swingers. They are one shot kills, headshots in first person shooters, executed with a long range sniper rifle. I have spent a fair amount of time evolving my throws and searching for the best angle and power combinations for the disc to travel maximum distance. It's like the power-up meter on Tiger Woods golf. You must find the sweet spot between the full red power bar and the release point angle.
As a casual poster on rec sports disc -- I found one thread particularly interesting this past summer. The BroMan was posting his usual onslaught of instructional throwing videos. Hall of Famer Mike Gerics, relentless poster on rec sports disc, made a comment about the power and coordination of a backhand throw. Eventually, my curiosity drove me to trying out "Mike's Tips." What I realized is that Geric's had indeed been correct on his analysis. Instead of rotating the disc in a curve around the torso, there was more power generated by bringing the disc way back and then directly forward in a straight line and snapping your wrist like a wet towel. Over several weeks, I began experimenting with this slight variation and discovered that my distance increased by 10/15 yards and the time in air another second. The difference between warning track power and the Mannywood Free Hamburger's Jackpot Home Run! This subtle change of technique adds valuable air time on pulls and a formidable difference in overall distance.
I was comparing forehands with Ron Kublanza at Poultry Days one year, seeing who had more power and how the mechanics of each thrower differed. I still owe Cash a nice ass golf disc. However, Ron is a slippery fish to disseminate information from. Ron has had the pleasure of playing club in Madison, Chicago, Boston, Vancouver, Seattle, San Francisco and now Minneapolis. (Side Note: Chicken still has a ways to go before he overtakes Ron as HOF'er most-traveled journeyman). I was able to wiggle a couple concepts out of Kubz, most interestingly the prowess of his forehand and excelling in different systems. Ron has a huge "shoulder jerk" as his elbow comes far past his torso, making for a fearsome elbow jerk. It seemed to me that the movement between the elbow and shoulder was twice as far than with my lightning release. The increased overall distance that the disc traveled before release had the "Gerics Effect" with more spin and superior distance. It was like the wind-up distance actually accounted for a bigger and more powerful release.
Another aspect of developing a murderbomb is learning how to rip a disc golf disc. My sophomore summer I lived with Ted Tripoli, Grank Zukowski, Nate Hurst and Rodrigo Valdivia - all avid disc golfers and I was eventually allowed to tag along and "learn" how to play. It took a summer or two to really identify the benefits of power and control the disc golf game evolved into my ultimate throws. I bought myself 5 Roc's all weighing over 175 grams and went nuts. When the pins were down during winter, I would throw 3-4 drives each hole. I can still feel the difference in my ultimate pull after a solid round of 15 drives.
The second big development of my deep game was thanks to 2006 Hodag captain Tom Burkly. Bearclaw was able to convince me to only look deep out of solid positioning and advantageous situations, helping me change my deep throwing decisions and cutting down on my turnovers. It was a necessary change as I had loose trigger finger in my high school days. As a primary deep thrower, it decidedly took a large share of the reps and essentially disc-hogging as I nearly bombed it every time I held the rock with determination on my mind. In many cases, I trusted myself to take the shot rather than trust my teammates to make the right decisions with the disc. I wanted the responsibility to win the game and I didn't care what other people thought. I was going to make sure it was finished.
One final consideration while jogging down the field is to let your opponent know that they need to fire up, after delivering your best looking biscuit by reminding your opponent that, "Muffin is the shit!"
Friday, November 11, 2011
"Victory and defeat are each of the same price."
A full club season is exhausting. A part time job, easily 18 hours a week. The challenge of exerting 100% effort into every single small facet of the cumulative season is daunting. Every workout, every dynamic, every single marking drill - can you consistently perform with the same high energy & execution? Occasionally the "long" winter provides the proper perspective with ample time away from the game. Often the beginning of the club season is the easiest time to renew the youthful energetic feeling,. I'm referring to the third grade recess type excitement, a certain kind of building in your stomach as your reach the doors leading to the fields, the spacious green space better known as freedom. The joyous feeling of walking onto a perfect open field eager for practice and perfection. The question persists, can this energy and focus be sustained day-in-day out? What makes the difference from Saturday afternoon to Sunday morning? Besides the 4 hours of sprinting, changing direction and pivoting. Excuses aside, if you can bring the energy and excitement -- your sore hamstrings and screaming calves make no difference. The hours of competition, the full purpose of winning each scrimmage to 5, completing every single rep of break mark attack drill.. The desire to win.
The first point of national finals, I was jacked up and ready to play max out. Heart slamming, testosterone at Chuck Norris levels -- ready to give it everything. Revolver scores in 5 passes, kicking the disc out for a perfect cross field huck. Now, is that energy and focus still there? I immediately went to our trainer/massage tent and flopped face down, peering under the tent flap as the next point began. The pull came, we centered the disc.
Now, is that commitment to excellence still aflame? Are you pivoting and faking just as hard as you did the first day of the season when you saw the fields after the off season months of the snow and rain and cold? The mark bids on the open side throw and gets the block near our brick line. I breathed out and swore to myself. Game over. That was the closest we were all game at 0-1. The overall finals performance can't feel like anything but under-performance in the clutch. Our play was consistent, but not overwhelming. The defense allowed quick strike goals and costly drops on offense yielded too many break opportunities.
But that's not what really happened.. We had fallen in love with our man defense because it had worked so well. Soft or hard marks both, it didn't matter, many D's were earned with honest-hard-nosed-effort-man-on-man-grindin-in-your-shorts-defense. It worked in practice, it worked the first game of the year against Sockeye after going down 1-5. We could beat every single team man-to-man, even if you knew exactly what we were going to do. It became the norm as the match-ups had been solid. But against Revolver, there were major letdowns in 1v1 coverage, especially in being able to effectively stop the initial set play. No help on the man. If the match-up was favorable and the throw went up into good space, points ended. It felt like getting pounded by your kid brother.
Ironside has now lost in the club championship to Revolver by the score of 10-15 for the second years in a row.
How do you rationalize defeat?
You put in the work. The hours of preparation.
But when you get to the last 70 yards, you falter and fail.
When your goal is to be the best - how do you deal with the letdown of second or third or fifth place? As it turns out, “Victory and defeat are each of the same price.”
Having the opportunity to win a title, twice, and falling short both times is extremely disappointing, more-so for 2010 than 2011 to be honest. Especially, I feel bad for Captain Mike Zalisk. When I was in the process of coming out to Boston, I flew into Philadelphia to play the tryout tournament Bell Crack. I actually met his mother before I met Mike as I was staying at his parent’s house that weekend. She served me a late dinner and began recounting the various injuries Mike has overcome since as early as high school – including multiple knee surgeries and slow-going roads of rehabilitation. Mike made the trip to Prague and essentially coached the Boston team to our 5th place finish at World’s. He was at every workout, every practice, every tournament, but only able to contribute so much on the field due his recovery schedule and doctor’s orders. There were practices that lulled to only 13 players and Zalisk was forced to play despite his noticeable limp. Towards the end of 2010, Mike was getting healthy. Regionals looked good and he was playing faster at practice, often catching glimpses of his powerbomb throws and savvy physicality.
The first game at Nationals in 2010, Mike re-aggravated his hamstring and was done for the tournament. If Will Neff was one of the more prominent huddle voices in 2010, but Mike was definitely the voice of 2011. At every significant practice – he was the voice describing the process – challenging the team. When the moments for team reflection surfaced, Mike was the vocal point. Stressing that for how many great seasons and incredible teams he had been a part of – but he had never won a club championship. During one of our last practices of the season – he made this point with passion in his voice and it really stuck with me. How many opportunities do you get to win a National Title? How many title games do you get to play in a career? From that perspective, I can look back on these past 2 years with Boston Ironside and come to only one conclusion, “Man, we missed when it meant the most.”
“The entire season, we’ve kept ourselves hungry. When we do something good, we say ‘silver medal’ to remind ourselves of falling short in 2009." This was Revolver's response to losing in the finals of 2009 to Chain Lightning. Always a reminder, always staying hungry. After 2010, Ironside reloaded the cannons, with 10 players moving on from a team of 24. Adding 13 new faces is nearly half the ship's crew.
"When defeat comes, accept it as a signal that your plans are not sound, rebuild those plans and set sail once more toward your coveted goal."
This is amusing for two reasons.
First, Ironside is a boat and second, sailing to our coveted goal is competing for a national championship. As it turns out, championships are much easier to collect in college. But it's often difficult to reconstruct plans that are entrenched in history and success. The offensive system, pioneered by Death or Glory is possession ultimate. It won 6 championships in the 90's. I'm finding the reset pattern outdated and narrowing.
Flashback: I am 18 years old and playing my first ever club season with Madison Club. I'm a freshman, my eyes are wide, and I'm soaking in ultimate like a sponge, about to ride the wave of 7 ultimate tournaments in my first 9 weekends of college. At this point, tryouts are in process for the Wisconsin college team. Chicago Heavyweights begins. Madison Club loses 3 straight universe point games in power pools and is in danger of dropping down out of the elite bracket.
Players are falling one by one, now deep in the 5th straight game on a hot September afternoon. Madison is battling Illinois Alumni and morale is waning. 9 times out of 10 we crush Illinois, but we are on the dregs as the losses have sapped our conviction. Halftime happens and we made a futile attempt to focus on just one aspect of the game. Swing the disc off the trap sideline and reverse the field against a crosswind. The only point stressed is to swing the disc off the line early in the count.
To no avail.
"Off the Line!"
Smack!
"Off the Line!"
Smack!
That offensive possession must have lasted a half an hour.
That cooler took the beating of its life -- for failing to concentrate on the simple concept of swinging the disc off the line. Thanks to Hector's visual outburst, I will never forget the life-or-death importance of swinging the disc off the line, early in the count.
Friday, November 04, 2011
I guess I'm getting old. At the very least, I'm older. I returned from my 12th straight club championships Monday evening, taking in a full day of overcast skies and mellow pacing in Sarasota before calling the whole thing quits. I arrived a week prior, late in the Tuesday night, because the years' experience have also taught me a thing or two about the ins and outs of the tournament.
I love the time at the beach, and the sand hot or cold either way. It is fine and white and light between my toes, and the beaches tease you with bits of sand dollars but rarely the dollar whole. The walk along the beach south, after a Sunday stumble down the steps of the Daquiri Deck, teammates - or, if you're lucky, a pretty face - in tow, head buzzing from a powerful admixture of satisfaction and Electric Lemonade. The end-of-day chill session by your team tent with a few friends, foot free of cleat, privates finally ventilated after a harrowing day tossled and smothered and in a dank darkness.
I used to be the guy that showed up and asked who to pay and to be pointed to his match-up. I had no idea who rented cars, or put down deposits for houses, or called other adults and negotiated financial transactions. I woke up to a breakfast. I arrived at the fields and was told where and when we'd be playing. I had no idea which way was north, where I-75 was, or how to get to the Publix and back. I rode my share of pine, but every time I was called in to play it was a special event. One of my first points ever on those pristine fields ended with Parinella taking me deep. I remember the way I felt running down the play, too far behind to D it. My second or third point ended with me throwing an I/O backhand break for a goal, also against Parinella, and I certainly remember how that felt. Oh, to be a n00b again!
I remember the distinct feeling I had after each of my playing seasons. From my freshman year of college until our loss in finals against Sockeye with Bravo, I ended each season a better player than I'd started. Then I played Sub Zero '08, one of the greatest team to squander a fortune. We were like Harry Potter's boggart; scary as fuck but ultimately without much punch. It was frustrating being a team with immense talent but unable to find a common groove, and the season's saving grace was that despite our underperformance, we were great friends and loved to hang out.
After Sub's subpar performance, and exacerbated by the departure of good friends Dan Heijmen and Andrew Brown, the tenuous fiber connecting Sub's roster to some of the best of Madison's players snapped, and after several years of playing under a variety of systems, I felt I had enough knowledge to try and captain Madison Club back to the national spotlight. With players no longer commuting away, we built a team that could compete on the national stage and won our first regional crown since 2001. I brought an amalgam of ideas for running practices, offense, and defense that was informed by the systems of my prior teams and the pedagogy from my experiences as a teacher. During those first two seasons with Club, the bulk of my time and energy went toward my captaining duties, so much so that in my second year they encroached on my conditioning time. Coupled with the demands of coaching the Hodags, this meant that I went into the club season in substandard shape. I tweaked my back early, and that injury nagged me in one form or another for the rest of the season. For me, going 3 seasons without feeling I was improving as a player took a toll, and I gave up my captaining duties for this season and went on a long summer road trip to get my head right and to help Alex move to Madison with me.
It was just what I needed. I drove almost 7000 miles this summer, stayed in shape, and cleared my thoughts. When I returned, I had no responsibility on the team other than to play my best. I did. After our victory over GOaT to end our club natties, I felt like I had another 5 games in me. I was able to apply my knowledge of the game to my on-field performance more directly, and this was my best and most consistent season so far. More importantly, realizing that I could play better yet renewed my faith in myself and my love for the game.
I'm feeling good right now, coupling all my experience with the passion of my naive youth. My career, my journey through all the levels of this sport, has been such a rewarding gift. I am thankful for all my teammates and opponents that have pushed me to continue learning and improving. I feel young, I feel grateful, I feel hungry, and Mooney's record 19 consecutive natties appearances is only 7 years away...
