Process of Illumination

Just wanted to jot a few quick thoughts on playing in Missouri this past weekend while they're relatively fresh.

A Midwest autumn weekend is a very mercurial creature, resisting predictions and expectations. A short month ago during our own No Wisconsequences tourney, we played Saturday in conditions that began promising but became progressively wetter, and Sunday morning found the fields swamped as rain poured unabated from the skies, cancelling play for the day. Columbia, MO this weekend greeted us similarly, with a manageably windy Saturday full of sun giving way to heavy winds and heavier rain Sunday, as the mercury dropped, and the cancellation of games after the second round. I assume (or hope) that teams from this region are used to the variable conditions, which make guaranteeing the completion of the tournament a shaky proposition. The Hodags were happy for the opportunity to play as a team for the first time since our final roster was announced, and while we would have loved to Sunday's weather to echo Saturday's, we understand tourney directors can't call on Taoist magic to control the elements.

Our Saturday brought games against Iowa, Carnegie-Mellon, Michigan, and Arizona in a showcase game. While Iowa has some solid players, their handling core seemed very inexperienced, and the stiff wind proved too difficult to overcome. They gave us several short-field possessions on miscommunications in their backfield which gave momentum to the Hodag feeding frenzy. In the field next to us, C-M was bewildering a Natty Mich caught off-guard, so they came into our game with a win and tremendous positive energy. Two Downtown Brown candidates, their primary handler (#47?) and a cutter (#1) were surprisingly effective and the handler has my respect. His throws and movement helped the less experienced teammates receive the disc in more favorable positions and his play elevated the team as a whole. I look forward to hearing more about him and hope his play continues to progress (and impress). Our game against Natty Mich had a chippy midsection, but our younger players from last year are stepping into larger roles on the team with success, and our depth carried us over our opponents in the second half.

Our showcase game was against an Arizona squad which had surprised both CUT and Mamabird in their pool, and it was clear early on why. They have several outstanding receivers, including one with absurd wheels who caught the final goal of the game in the hard cap. The sure-handed receivers, in challenging wind, complemented their savvy primary handler, who despite his unassuming frame and shorter stature has high-release throws that allowed Arizona to effectively spread the field. Our game against them was very spirited and friendly, and seeing their execution this early in the season be as crisp as it was bodes well for their spring. I hope to be able to measure their progress in Madison come late May.

Rumors of Luther's demise have been greatly exaggerated. While they did lose EJ and Graffy, lil' Johnson still commands respect and has throws that rival (but don't match) his brother's, and they have a few big men that played an imposing cup in their zone defense. While they clearly won't be as deep or experienced as last year, if the North Central secures a healthy number of natty's bids again this year, they have the time to grow enough to challenge for one of them. Whether they do or not remains to be seen.

The Hodag-CUT rivalry is as robust as it's been. They lost some dudes, we lost some dudes, neither is giving the other any room to get comfortable. We expect to see them at most of our spring tournaments, and as always our meetings will be a test of each of our preparations.

Our strength at this tournament, and the new roster, brings to mind comments made prior to the tournament on rsd and elsewhere predicting results. Several wondered how Wisconsin will fare with the departure of Simmons and other players we relied on heavily last year. Well, a year prior we fielded questions about how we would ever replace Bergen and Feldman, and the year before that Klane and Crumb, and Foster and Gayor before that, etc. I love my teammates, and I will certainly miss the ones who aren't coming back this season, but I'm not asking myself how we will replace one player or another; I'm focused on how to develop the talent we have for this year, and confident that, like in so many years past, we will.

Hh

p.s. One gripe about MLC: please please please get some port-o-johns on site. The fact that the players had to wait almost half an hour to drop a deuce throughout the entire day should make it glaringly apparent that the current facilities are deficient.

 

This was the question that Billy Stone, CBS Sports representative, posed to us, the captains and coaches meeting before the beginning of the championship. By far the most dynamic and exciting of the speakers at the captain's meeting, he had everyone present fired up to finally get some real exposure for the sport.  Frequently stressing the need to tone down the language in huddles and on the field, he was adamant that having seen the footage from last year's natties, the top brass at CBS Sports was ready to double down this year with their coverage and exposure of college Ultimate's hallmark event.

"And next year, we want to go...live!" His energy was infectious. Hell yes, of course we want to go live. We all do. It'd be great to have a well-produced live showing of the championship games for the open and women's division. After our incredible semifinal game against Colorado, in my opinion the game to watch of the tournament, Peggy, a Wisconsin alum and producer of the Alt Games footage, said that in production meetings they had talked about adding more footage of Ultimate to their CBS broadcast, from the planned 6 minutes to as many as 9. This would be the footage that gets televised to 120 million homes.

But all of this was before finals against CUT. Carleton vs. Wisconsin, the rivalry and history promised to make this game one to remember. Then the winds came racing down the foothills, shearing the support cables from the Alt Games inflatable arch and sending it tumbling end over end above the fence behind the north end of the fields. I could see our team game plan fly away with it, and I'm sure that Tom Crawford and the rest of USAU saw the promise of a watchable game of Ultimate soar away as well.

Jack Marsh, Harvard Red Line and Wisconsin Hodag alum summed it up best, watching online from NYC and tweeting his opinion, "I can hear @cbssports shredding its @usaultimate contract from here."

Nationals was an incredible experience, so much fun and so rewarding for many reasons, but that wind made the open finals game unwatchable. It certainly wasn't Ultimate in the way every game beforehand had defined it. Are we ready to go live, Billy Stone? I am, I certainly want to be, but then again I won't be the one watching, I'll be the one living it.

Oof,

No way to sugar coat it, we got worked over at the Stanford Invite a couple of weeks back. Whether one chooses to blame the Pacific time zone, or a depleted squad, or an ingrown toenail, the fact remains that for the whole of the tournament we were listless on the field, lacking energy and playing complacent.

Perhaps a solid outing at Florida Warm-Up made us feel that we were well on our way - a way that like a greased slide would effortlessly lead us to Regionals. What we proved is that no matter how much talent we have, we are only as good a team as the effort and work that we put into each point of each game. We eked out a few victories, but it was the resignation during our losses that was most troubling. We came back from Stanford with only a week before Spring Break, and a lot of work to do.

The Hodags left icy Wisconsin to their beach house along the shores of the Atlantic in Myrtle Beach. In contrast to last year's destructo-fest, that left little of the house intact, this year's week of bonding was filled with throws and touches. Beach time was an opportunity to throw with a brisk breeze, and the team organized a few team-wide practices to stay fresh and to work on fundamentals - an important focus for any team.

That work paid dividends at Easterns where, team-wide, unforced errors diminished. We found ourselves in a dogfight against Colorado to take the pool but could not convert the score on double-game point, so despite a win against pool winners and eventual semifinalists Michigan we played a prequarters game and faced Florida in quarters.

Our eventual 7th place finish was disappointing to much of the team, because we played well for 4/ 5ths of every game, but we were unable to close games against our stiffest competition and it cost us dearly. However, the silver lining is that our defense generated turns and breaks against all teams present, and we led late in the second half of every game we played. Being able to stay tenacious and shut the door on teams once we've established a lead will be crucial for our success, and we're currently placing our O-line in do-or-die situations at practice where they must convert in straight possessions or lose the game.

Arriving back from Easterns, we were greeted by a sunny spring in Madison. The weather has been brisk, in the 30s and 40s, but when the sun is out we get sweaty and it feels like summer is around the corner. The weather's cooperation has been a blessing to us as a team, and we're outside taking full advantage. Considering that we've only had 5 outdoor practices since the beginning of 2011, we're nowhere near our ceiling and we leave each practice a little better than how we arrived.

Up next this weekend is Huck Finn, a late addition to our schedule to get the younger players on the team reps, and to help us gel on the field. While I won't be in attendance, I think that will probably work in their favor, as each player will have to step up and be accountable for themselves, to each other.

I've been following Lou Burrus' writings at Win The Fields as he discusses several reasons why referees aren't the panacea to Ultimate's ills, and I certainly agree. He mentions in two different posts the strongest points I have for continuing our current observer system, but having the observers perform the duties as they're prescribed.

The first point he addresses is the time between when a call is made and its resolution. I am in favor of the observers giving some time for players to work out an understanding of the play in question, but in my opinion observers have shied away from stepping in when it's clear the disagreement between the players won't be resolved. This can start with all players keeping in mind that in many contested fouls, a call/contest response is acceptable. But observers, perhaps afraid of being too large an influence, have developed a neutered style where they'll sit back and, only after minutes have been whittled away, step in and make a call. The observers need to be ready with a ruling, then interject and either rule one way or send the disc back.

Secondly, I am all for observers wielding team and personal misconduct fouls with greater frequency as a way to dissuade players and teams from forcing stoppages of play with bullshit calls and fouls to dictate the pace of the game. Right now the threshold for TMFs and PMFs is so high that only egregious violations seem to merit them. While observers have in the last year been more generous with TMFs, I don't think it's been enough of a change yet.

Lastly, as I perused some write-ups from Warm-Up, I read this breakdown of teams on No-Look Scoober, where the writer Stonewall Jackson conflates some heated intra-teammate talk with "issues being a unified squad". He goes on to write, "In one instance, negativity seemed to go over the top, past teammate to teammate heckling when members on the sidelines expressed their discontent with some turnovers colorfully."

I couldn't disagree with this more. It goes without saying that the writer was nowhere near the fields, or even Florida, during the tournament, but there wasn't a single instant all weekend where I thought any Hodag went over the top in criticism of his teammates and, had I felt that was the case, there would have been immediate and significant consequences for doing so. This Hodag squad is fantastic; I couldn't be more happy with or proud to coach them, and each of them would go to the limit of their abilities to help any of the others. If teams are looking at our unity as a possible place to get an edge or incite divisiveness look elsewhere, because you'll be wasting your time. If there's one things the Hodags have never lacked, it's strength through unity, and indeed our most common cheer, and the bedrock of our team philosophy, states it. Hodag Love.

After two days of rest to allow the knots and tightness to dissipate, the Hodags reconvene tonight at their winter lair, the Shell. With a long list of things to improve on but not much opportunity to touch on those that require discs, we can only turn our focus toward the one thing we have control over: team-wide fitness. Tonight Jerrybomb sets about as taskmaster to the team's athleticism. In his tenure as team fitness coordinator he has established himself as an efficient trainer with a splash of sadism that his civilian acquaintances, unfamiliar to the rigors of competitive Ultimate, don't get to see.

I drift now to moments on the sidelines this weekend whenever a call was made, in our games or otherwise, that nullified a score or big play made by one of the teams. Mostly I think of all the incredulity and snark that comes out of the mouths of players too far away to see any part of the play with clarity, or senseless noise coming from players who didn't see what happened at all.

It seems now we're at a moment where everyone provided with vocal chords claims as their right some permutation of best perspective; where every call's legitimacy is argued if it goes against your team; where even the worst calls a teammate can make are upheld as manifest truth.

It reminds me of a moment in Steven King's The Stand where the survivors of a biological apocalypse, after enjoying a period of camaraderie and tight communion, begin to lock the doors in their Boulder, CO homes as the size of the settlement swells, and distrust once again takes root within the cracks of unfamiliarity.

On the heels of the UPA (oops - USAU -old habits die hard) announcing that membership has reached an all-time high and junior memberships have now surpassed those of adults, I'm wondering if we're losing some of that closeness that allowed self-officiation to thrive, that community which allowed each of us as players to leave the doors of our trust unlocked during games.

At the captain's meeting this year at Club Nationals, there was nary a peep about the future of referees in Ultimate - quite the opposite, the corporate line from CEO Tom Crawford and everyone else who spoke from headquarters stressed the future of the sport as predicated on self-officiation as the keystone in the arch of selling points the USAU is using to push Ultimate to a wider market.

And I don't want you to get me wrong - I love self-officiation in this sport. But it's been my experience lately that the familiarity between players nationwide has diminished as our numbers have grown, and now the hardest thing to find on the field the moment after a contentious call is civility, and players with unsubstantiated opinions and no desire to base them on any hard reality sprout like uncontested weeds from the green of the pitch and sidelines. If our civility holds its current decaying trajectory, we're going to need to modify our rules eventually to allow for more observer empowerment, and not because self-officiation is dead or impossible, but because new generations of players simply aren't putting in the effort necessary to make it work. Trust and democratic spirit within a game are as difficult as any upfield break or off-handed sky, but while the latter two bring instant glory and praise, the former two affect the game with a subtlety not immediately tangible. It's only during the handshakes between teams, at the end of a long and hard-fought game that both felt was called fairly, that their true value comes to light.

It's my responsibility, and a primary focus since taking the helm of the Hodags, to make sure this team enjoys and promotes a style of play that is aggressive, intense, and competitive, but also fair, honest, and full of the sportsmanship that Spirit of the Game upholds but has hardly cornered within our sport. For the Hodags and teams nationwide, the challenge remains.

We returned from Florida with 9 games under our belt, 6 victories, 3 losses, and for my part, one hell of a shirt tan. Most importantly, as we boarded a giant team flight on AirTran back to Wisconsin we had a long list of things we needed to work on for these next three weeks, before the Hodags once again board a plane and head to the opposite coast for the Stanford Invite.

We arrived at the field complex of the University of Southern Florida on a morning that could have been warmer. With our breaths barely visible at our faces and the thermometer pushing the bottom 40s, teams warmed up in full pants and jackets, and hands were kept warm between drills within the heat of our crotchspace. UNC-W coach Tully Beatty complained that, aside from the fact it wasn't raining, the weather had not improved on their long drive southward. The Hodags were happy to feel even the lightest touch of warmth though, and we set about getting our legs ready for the weekend.

We began round robin play with the host team. My concern was our rusty throws would be an even bigger disadvantage playing against home field, and true to form our defense's O had trouble converting. Our legs carried us though and we were able to generate many turns. Our O-line looked sharp however, and carried the half without a single break to its detriment. When the second half started, our D finally got its throws together and we eliminated casual turns. The result was rattling off several breaks and taking the game 13-7.

We had a brief break before playing Cornell who, despite having made semifinals of Natties last year (can't believe it!), came with maybe 13 pairs of legs to this tournament. It was the 2nd game for both teams, but they were already looking tired, and by this time the D squad was humming along. Despite the efforts of a few astute throwers on Cornell, their defense was unable to generate any breaks all game and we took it in hand 13-6.

Our next game against Virginia was the first real test. We went into halftime with a lead that felt comfortable, and when our O-line was finally broken our defense was too lax to respond. A few sloppy points in a row by our O-line, and suddenly we found ourselves down a point neediing to tie. The game evened at 10-10, then we broke to take advantage, and traded to the cap, with our team receiving tied at 11s. The hard cap had come on, and with only 5 minutes until the start of the next round we scored to win on double game point. There was contention, however, as Virginia was unaware that we'd been playing under hard cap for the last two points (they scored to tie it at 11s, forcing the final point), and they complained. There was nothing to be done with tournament director Cyle Van Auken looking on, and as they bitterly asked him, "what more can we do?" he answered them deadpan, "keep track of time."

Here I'll interject that while it is each team's responsibility to do so, I understand Virginia's frustrations. There was no loud horn indicating soft or hard cap, and teams were left to manage time themselves. And normally, I would have talked to someone on the other team to ensure that both teams know the situation but this was our first tournament, and I'm becoming comfortable with my own duties, and in the moment it didn't cross my mind. So, apologies to Virginia, but that's how it goes. Keep track of time.

I'll also mention that the amenities for this tournament were what amenities.

Two port-a-johns, 200m away from the fields, both out of toilet paper by the second round. These boxes of filth were brimming beyond their capacity by the 3rd day, and attempting to deuce at the fields on Sunday became a challenge in careful placement, lest you bottom out too soon and find yourself with no place to go. Only at a tourney with no women's division could you even hope to get away with this. The captain's meeting consisted of a USF player clearly in over his head rattling off rules that he thought were right (he was proven wrong later, his stated 1TO/half + a floater became 2TO/half by the end of the tourney), and the trainer was available whenever we didn't need her. She was contracted to arrive after the start of rounds, and left before the end of the day, along with whomever was taking care to fill water jugs. Not that you can ask for much with a low tourney fee, but I think as a sport we need to get used to paying a little more and having, at bare minimum, a trainer present ANY TIME players are running on the fields, and bathroom facilities that can withstand the copious fecal production 9 teams generate. Just sayin'.

Our final game was against Colorado to end Friday's play. They took it to us fairly well, capitalizing quickly on unforced errors by our O-line. We hardly played our best game, and a couple of breaks in the second half by the D gave us confidence going into Saturday that we could generate goals against any offensive line, however our O-line execution faltered in the second half of the day and we needed to address those struggles. We had drops and throw-aways that are unchacteristic for this team, but with wind playing with the disc's path and edge, our lack of experience outside showed when we played against teams with more aggressive defenses. The day closed with food, and a delicious couple of Bell's Two-Hearted ales for me and Scotto back at the tourney.

Saturday showcased the Florida weather we expected, with not a cloud in the sky. Perhaps it was that distraction that caused us to lay an egg in the first game, or perhaps Harvard's junky 3-3-1 gave our team fits as we faced the first zone of the season. The cutters downfield failed to attack the poaches aggressively, and instead languished behind the cup playing it as a true zone, which allowed the Red Line ample time to switch and clog lanes. Despite several opportunities to bring the game back into the fold, it was the O-line who ultimately folded and we lost 13-8.

This loss put our backs to the wall, needing to generate at least one victory and looking down the mouth of a Sunday that held CUT and Florida, our two biggest rivalries (Colorado being the other). I've called our team young, and having had CUT and Colorado hand it to us at MLC in the fall, and then faltering at the end of Friday vs Colorado, and laying an egg vs. Harvard, we reached a point of crisis. Are we as good as we think we can be? The short answer is not yet, but our potential is essentially limitless at the college level, and the second half of Saturday bore that out.

Our offense put together its finest effort in a classic game against CUT, with neither team blinking in a staring match that lasted until 9-9, when we finally got our first break, then piled on 3 more to take the game 13-10. The game began as contentious as our games always do, but by its end both teams were letting their hard effort do the talking for them. The exhilaration of this victory buried any disappointment in the loss to Harvard, and we carried that momentum directly into our game against Florida an hour later.

Florida is still Florida. They're still just a few players deep, but they're good players, and Troll Sullivan and Alex Hill anchor a team that would otherwise not chart in the Illboard Top 20. But the team is lacking the strength they've had in role players elsewhere, and their one-dimensionality proved their undoing. While other teams might struggle against the Florida image, to us it's always been a rallying point, and our O-line cutters had a field day with a downfield defense too soft to generate pressure against them. Florida basically waits until you make a mistake, and then tries to force something deep to or from Sullivan. Alex Hill plays the role of comic foil and looks to establish power position for himself and Cole as often as possible. Against a Hodag team hungry and smelling victims, it wasn't often enough. We won easily 13-9.

It's not everyday you can beat CUT and Florida within 2 hours of each other. Although too early in the season for either win to mean anything substantive, what we did learn is that we're as real as we thought we could be, and that despite our youth we have a lot of positives working in our favor. We also proved to ourselves the power of an engaged and vocal sideline; a lesson crucial for a team of this size and age. With everyone following the play and communicating to teammates, defense downfield suddenly seemed like a group affair. This lesson, and the confidence it provided, will have to remain with us for the rest of the season if we mean to accomplish the goals we've set for ourselves.

Sunday came with the best weather of the weekend, though not our best play. A young UNC-W team kept it close against us during the first half before surrendering too many breaks on unforced (and forced) errors, and despite some tit-for-tat calls early we ran away with it in the second half 13-7. Meanwhile Colorado lost to a fired-up Virginia in the field next to us, with the game going to the end of the round. Perhaps someone on Night Train finally brought a watch.

We secured a spot in semifinals against CUT, and never took it for granted that this game would be a tougher challenge than our first battle against them. The offense didn't have their best game though, and despite the defense generating turns we weren't able to convert on many of them. Lowlights included 5th year captain Ben Feldman joining an illustrious line of Hodags (2007 Callahan winner Dan Heijmen among them) that have caught a gorgeous pass in the red zone and immediately spiked the disc, before realizing they were well outside the endzone. In this case Feldman's elbow spike placed the disc about 10 yards out. Such was the nature of the D-line offense, coming close to a few breaks but not able to finish, and we lost the game to a fired up (and Grant-less) CUT squad, 13-7. The rivalry remains heated.

CUT took that victory and piled on top of it a complete game against Mamabird in finals. Norden does a lot of the heavy lifting for CUT on the throwing end, and Julian seemed like he was at recess downfield, running around unopposed and catching everything thrown his way. A well-earned victory for CUT over Mamabird 14-12, and for those keeping track, the Central remains the strongest region, or most top-heavy, nationwide.

Follow the Hodag twitter feed, along with the twitter account of the other 8 teams at the Leagevine website for Warm-Up, A Florida Affair.

The 'Dags are en route to the airport as I type this, office full of students stuffing their faces with the a la carte offerings of the high school deep fryer. I'm finding it's taking all I have to focus on the school work here and not the sun and ultimate awaiting us tomorrow.

Our schedule for the weekend:
Friday -
10am vs South Florida
noon vs. Cornell
2pm vs. Virginia
5pm vs. Colorado

Saturday -
noon vs. Harvard
2pm vs. Carleton Poopstains
6pm vs. Florida

Sunday -
8am vs. UNC-Wilmington
10am placement games and semis
12:30pm Finals

Rivalries everywhere. I love the round robin format. At this early juncture, it gives everyone plenty of games. It also makes every game carry weight, not only in victories, but also point differential. Every point counts, literally, because you never know when you'll need to win by one more or lose by one less to come out on top of some convoluted tie that is settled by point diff. We're aware of the stakes and we need to play with them in mind. See you down in Florida, where I will be tweeting from my account occasionally and the @hodaglove account will be active with updates.

We're a week and a half out of Natties. The time to build any kind of physical gains in muscle or endurance is essentially over, but there is time yet to work the head game. A big part of that includes setting the mood on that jittery and exciting drive from Siesta Key to the fields, and in the warm-up time before our first game.

On Bravo, Richter and I made team pump-up CDs for each of of the rental cars. Once at the fields each person is left to their own devices, literally, while we jog and go through our preliminary drills. I know a few of my friends' teams have a team CD that contains a song from each teammate. However you do it on your team, you probably do it; pump-up music is crucial to getting you in that Kill Mode mood. So I'm asking for some input, some opinion. What's on your player these days? What tracks are bumping? I'm got a few in mind so i will link their YouTube pages (I love that YouTube has become what I always hoped MTV would be — instant gratification for my music video–watching itches).

Introduce me to some new songs. Blow me away with an artist I've not heard before. I love all kinds of music as long as it's well done. With that in mind, here are a few songs playing in my ears as I slip into Sarasota green and strap on my cleats:

• Picture Me Rollin' By 2pac, a classic.
• Bloc Party's Banquet song is tasty in Original or Remix flavors.
• The Faint were described as "being a little too emo for you, Hec" but I like Glass Dance just the same.
• MSTRKRFT's a great group, and their video for the song Easy Love is memorable for obvious reasons. Song's tight too.
• I can't say enough about how incredibly disgusting Little Brother's lyrics are (in the good way). Dominant group, and the 9th Wonder production on The Getup is straight nasty.
• Yes, The Knife is a weird group, and their videos feel like a bad acid trip, or a great one. Still, Silent Shout is a great song.
• Aesop Rock is back on the scene with a new album, and his non-stop rhyming on the title track for None Shall Pass keeps everything thrusting forward. It does it for me.

An amalgam of thoughts.

By the time the Hodags had capped their second straight College Championship, the only thing truly surprising was how easy they made it seem in finals. Florida breezed through the tourney and crushed in the bracket on Saturday, Wisconsin rallying late against Stanford and stumbling out of the blocks early in semis vs Colorado.

Hold on a sec. In case you're just stumbling to my blog for the first time, you should know two things. I played for Wisconsin and this is my blog. I will be fair, and honest, and self-critical, and consistent, but this is my blog and I played for Wisconsin, and I thought you should know. It makes absolutely no sense to me why on mssui.com Cyle Van Auken insists on signing everything he writes as "The Editorial Board", similarly to how when he was running collegeulti.com his name wasn't anywhere near it. Is it to maintain some semblance of impartiality and journalistic ethics? So people don't think he's biased toward the team he was playing on? Seems shadier to me to leave it unsigned than to just put your name on it and allow the reader to determine its fairness for themselves, no? But I digress...

I enjoyed those who, after Wisconsin's abhorrent losses to Michigan and Pitt at Centex, wrote them off as an inferior version of their 2007 selves and began scouring for other teams to seed above them at nationals. People talking about placing Michigan above them, as if the team that had torn through everyone pre-Centex had ceased to exist. That was a time of real soul-searching for Wisconsin. Down, no longer the awed and unanimous #1, looking frighteningly vulnerable as they frantically saved their regionals against Iowa, they had to decide if they still where that team.

Thing is, of course they were still that team. That didn't go away during the loss to Pitt. As we sat in a circle, the elder Hodags and I, celebrating their victory at Stanford in March, we discussed the possibility of an undefeated season. The outcome of the Superbowl a month earlier still weighed on my mind.

"I don't care how many games you lose, as long as you win your last six," I told them then. Yesterday we sat around the Hodag House in Madison discussing whether they'd have been able to close the deal had Centex ended in another undefeated Hodag victory. I'm not so sure. These baby blues were a collection of people conscious of their own skill and ability, and with that awareness comes all the questioning of whether they truly posses it. "Are we really as good as we thought?" they seemed to ask themselves after Centex. Those voices of doubt, their volume loud enough to allow Elis to beat Toms, would have made themselves heard clearly on Sunday had they gone undefeated. Wisconsin '08 was a team with a lot of talent, so much so that the idea of failure was strong enough to get in the way of their execution at times.

That aside, other random thoughts.

Where can one see the final vote tallies on the Callahan race this year? I for one am curious as to the numbers. Also, at a first glance it seems that anyone with a valid .edu address and upa ID could vote, not limiting it to current college-eligible members. I remember a debate a while back about giving Charles Kerr, the person who owns the award, larger access to the UPA's member database so he could corroborate voters' current status. They said no then, but now the UPA probably not only has a vested interest in the award but in also gaining control over it. For now Charles Kerr hold to it, soldiering on. The UPA, long having slept on the recognition of worthy college players before Kerr came along, waits.

Also regarding the Callahan, disturbing if the rumors prove true that the requirement of a .edu email address barred Canadian participants in the UPA series from voting on their candidate. Would that have been enough to change the final outcome?

That will soon be a moot point, considering that in two years the College and Club series will be strictly limited to US teams. In club, that opens two spots in the open and women's division: Furious and Goat in open and Capitals and Traffic (although they didn't qualify this year!) in women's. In college the lady Thunderbirds got their hardware just in time. Match better hold on to that Furious jersey I saw him wearing in Boulder. How do people feel about this? I guess it was only natural as the UPA grew in size that it eventually focus inwardly of the development of the sport at the national level exclusively. Still, the Championships without Canadian teams will exhibit a drop in talent for the immediate future, and it'll just feel weird to be at "Natties" without Furious. When your time comes, Canada, you'll be missed.

I am pleased, at least in Madison, of the legwork done to get the word out about Ultimate and Wisconsin's successes. This year we also got the ESPN guy to show up, CBS lent the Hodags a camera for their documentary, and the UPA College's Championship was woven into the fabric of the Collegiate Nationals. We seem to be moving in the right direction for those that want to see Ultimate more widespread and acknowledged mainstream. But is it enough? There seem to be exacting standards for the position of media director at the UPA. The last two were fired and the one before that left under inauspicious circumstances. How many more heads roll before it it's no longer a coincidence? Kelly Kneib, I'm rooting for you. You can do it. All my love hon.

Region Redraw, please. Club and College regionas should match. 7 regions, 2 bids per region, two strength bids. Let's do this. Give me some real revolution. How long have we talked about this? It still makes sense.

The latest round of Hodag tattoos have been inked to skin. A new project has begun to form. Coming soon, in the summer '09, team Dark Mark. The Green Berets of elite Wisconsin Alumni. Must have tat to play. "This is what nightmares are made of."TM I can't wait. Alongside Dark Mark I am also proposing that the current Wisconsin and friends team, The Iceholes, undergo a name change and become World's Largest Brat Fest. Same great people, new shirts and colors.

Thing is, everywhere I look Wisconsin is blowing up. We're far from where we were 8 years ago at my first Club championships. Ron Kubalanza finally won his championship. Will Henry captained Sockeye. Bravo made finals with three alumni, Sub Zero played a close quarters with a bevy of Wisconsin players. We've got a male Callahan in Heijmen, a female Callahan in Kiesow. Kendra Fredrick is blowing up Slow White. The seeds planted and carefully tilled through years of program development, most sans coach, are beginning to bloom, and Wisconsin is looking tasty in any part of the nation where competitive ultimate is in season.

More thoughts to come, but for now, On Wisconsin!

Welcome to Pleasant View, elevation 5,300 ft. In an effort to avoid busted lungs I've gathered some info from the very reliable "internet" ... actually most of it looked pretty reliable. Sources listed at the bottom.

The effects of playing a mile higher than sea-level are broken down into a few distinct areas: oxygen intake, dehydration, and UV exposure. Then of course there is the effect on a disc's flight, which is not insignificant.

Oxygen Intake
Contrary to popular misconception, the amount of oxygen at altitude is actually the same as it is at sea-level. What is different, however, is the barometric pressure and therefore your body's ability to use that oxygen. The lower the pressure the more difficult it is to move oxygen from your lungs to your bloodstream. Your body compensates for this by increasing breathing rate and heart rate. Additionally your VO2 max decreases approximately 1–2% for every 300 meters above sea level.

Side note: There is actually considerable debate regarding high-altitude training. The upshot is that training at sea level is more effective than at high altitude because your VO2 max has a higher ceiling, but the benefits of sleeping/residing at elevation acclimate your body to an oxygen-starved environment. "Live high, train low" is the current catchphrase. I don't know where this is possible, except maybe Hawaii, or maybe if you live at a super high elevation and go down to moderately high elevations to train.

Dehydration
This will be the biggest task facing sea-level competitors. Colorado is arid, but due to the altitude you will also be perspiring more and breathing more rapidly. Proper hydration leading up to and during the tournament is absolutely crucial (more so than your average tournament).

UV Exposure
You will be one mile closer to the sun than you normally are. UV levels rise 2% for every 1,000 foot rise in altitude, so be sure to use plenty of sunscreen. (See comments for clarification.)

Disc Flight
You should be able to huck the shit out of the disc, but it will fly very differently from what you are used to. Discs will not float as long and they will hold their edge harder. Blades really blade. I/O throws flatten nicely.

What Sea-Level Teams Should Do
Arrival: Unfortunately there are two competing factors for when you should arrive: staving off the body's natural response to re-acclimatizing vs practicing throwing. If you can arrive Thursday night that is best, but the tournament being a 3-day tournament also makes this decision tricky. According to Physiology of Sport and Exercise you should arrive as close to game-time as possible. (But that only addresses Friday's games. Ultimate is in a funny place as an endurance sport and a sprint sport.) But if you are arriving earlier I guess I would get a lot of throwing practice in. And most of you probably already have your plane tickets. Oh well.

Diet: Avoid alcohol and caffeine. Reduce sodium. Increase carbohydrates and water intake. Also please note that for the 28 teams done by Saturday night you will be affected by alcohol wayyy more than you are at sea-level.

UV: There will be sunscreen at the tournament (I'm pretty sure) but you should bring more, and you should use it. Maybe even bring aloe or lotion to use at night. Chapstick, definitely bring chapstick.

Other: If you like following up on spam pharmaceutical offers, maybe Viagra would be useful. (99% kidding.)

References/Further Reading (in no particular order):
http://www.olympics.org.uk/omi/documents/OMI/Traveling_Athlete.pdf
Physiology of Sport and Exercise (pp. 290–292 in particular)
http://www.cptips.com/altitud.htm
http://jap.physiology.org/cgi/content/full/99/5/2053
http://www.thefinalsprint.com/2006/12/live-high-train-low-benefits-of-altitude-training/
http://altitudetraining.com/main/science/research/sleepingAltitude/aerobicEffects
http://coachsci.sdsu.edu/csa/vol24/sutton.htm
http://www.triathletemag.com/Departments/Training/2007/Get_the_most_out_of_altitude_training.htm
http://www.peakscoachinggroup.com/freeinfo/altitude_exposure.html
http://www.sport-fitness-advisor.com/acclimatization-to-altitude.html
http://sportsmedicine.about.com/cs/altitude/a/042004.htm
http://www.rice.edu/~jenky/sports/altitude.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Physics_of_flying_discs

Hector and I have assembled a useful resource for those heading to Boulder. Here you will find a map of area restaurants, grocery stores, and places to get your recreation on. I mean, it's great to know where your hotel, the fields, and the hospital can be found, but you need more than that. Come feast at our table of information (and then at Mountain Sun).

You can also view this map in a new window, sans blog.

This map was created by the authors. It is not really affiliated with the UPA College Championships (in any official way), and we figure it will also be useful for Boulder's other tournaments, Colorado Cup and GRUB.

I wanted to make a PDF, but that will have to wait til Colorado Cup & GRUB. (Bids to both now open.)

I love the Wednesday before Club Nationals. Most the team arrives Tuesday, but we arrive to our beach houses late and tired and do little other than mill around the rooms and establish pecking order for the best sleep spots in the house.

But we get all Wednesday, and it's all about business. The day is electric, I walk around the whole day with the hair on my neck on end, the feeling I'll static shock anything I touch. Most of that whole day is committed to visualization, trying to control the emotion of the upcoming days, and it's under this lens that I go grocery shopping. The trip to the neighborhood Publix is my favorite part of the day.

Unless you've never been to Club Nationals, you know that the "cool" place to stay while there is Siesta Key. I went with Madison one year, stayed at the tourney hotel inland, and finished in 16th place. Horrible time. But Siesta Key's where it's at—you even play better if you stay there. A few years ago if you were extra-cool, you stayed at the Surf & Racquet Club on the Key. But a hilarious story involving an uncontrollable but illustrious Hodag alum put an end to any chance of ultimate players staying there again.

Anyway, Siesta Key is mostly just residential development with a few bars and breakfast places (The Daiquiri Deck, the it-place to celebrate the victory Sunday or mourn the defeat, but both leading to the same dark pile of vomit you wake up in). As such, it has no major grocery store of its own, forcing Siesta Keyers to drive up the road and stop at the nearest Publix. And on Wednesday, preparation day, that funnels representatives from nearly every team at Nationals to the same spot.

A curious game of people-watching develops. If you're a young rookie on a happy-to-be-here team, sent to do bitch work, you may be awestruck to share the crackers aisle with the best cutter in the game. By the time you're getting eggs you're tweaking about all the players you recognize by picture alone. But if it ain't your first time around the block, you know the game. You know you gotta strut, cuz the other team is watching you and they're sizing you up. Now, I'm not saying you break out the pimpwalk, but your posture is as erect as it's ever been and you look like a motivational speaker about to start his speech. No part of you is sagging; you betray no doubt or weakness.

You can't help but glance into the carts of your competitors. That cart contains everything that will be fueling them for the next four days. Where have they placed their trust? Red Bulls in Sockeye's cart, imitation Rockstar in Boston's. Who's buying up the Slim Fasts, who went with the megaprotein shakes? What are the best using to power their bodies? Who's scooping up vaseline? A deeper level of competitor analysis.

Running into all these people is strangely awkward for everyone because you're running into tomorrow's competition and already chomping at the bit. You're probably great friends with them in the off-season and early season, but fraternizing with them this close to game-time would ruin some of the mental exercises you've been running all day. The anxiety over the next day tweaks some out: they're overly nice, others go silent. A friend I know stares everybody down. Positioning in the mental game at Nationals begins between the dairy and produce sections.

You check out, and the clerk asks you what team you're from and do you think you'll win. They end with a "good luck" and "hope you win," but it sounds hollow. They know the drill: this time every year a mass of hoodlums descends on their piece of picturesque and buys up everything. They nod, feed you the line, smile, and send you on your way. As you leave, others from another team are entering. Their tour is just beginning.

As Thursday arrived, I found myself inside my new room, on the top floor of Mitch’s house, staring at several haphazard piles of clothing and boxes that I’d packed in a rush just the day before. Wanting to do anything but unpack, yet knowing my Madison friends both on Sub Zero and Madison Club would be arriving soon, I reluctantly set about the task of arranging my life back in order under the more constricting constraints of my new digs.

No matter, once I got going and set up my sound system and computer I blasted some Little Brother and let myself get caught up in the few days ahead. Andrew Brown, ultimate’s Best Man You’ve Never Heard Of, was arriving that night and about 20 Hodags from this year and last weren’t far behind so I wanted to exude some measure of control over the mess that’s followed me since the Black Bear attacked my 4Runner two weeks ago (true story – for later). Though Brown got to the Arnett House early in the afternoon, it wasn’t until later in the evening that my room was unpacked, clean, and ready for living in. I drove to Arnett, hung out, and shared stories for the rest of the night with Brown, getting more excited about the tournament and the weekend in general.

Friday saw the Hodag Love arriving in staggered groups, and each went to stay at a house of a friend or Bravo teammate. Tripoli had done his best to get the Wisconsin boys on floor space for free out here, but despite that we still had three tent-loads of duders come and crash in our backyard, even though we were already hosting nearly a dozen girls from Texas. After we finally got on the same page, the entire Madison contingency, representing three different tourney teams, made our way up the mountain to play a round of disc golf at Ned.

The course, which lacks nothing in its adventure and creativity departments, was awesome. And though some played with ultrastars (the preferred disc for this short, but obstacle-rich course) and others with actual disc golf discs, it seemed everyone was having a great time, staggered through the course as we were. As we neared the home stretch, we detoured up the mountain to play the course’s Hidden Holes and hike to the summit. The view from the top at around 8300 ft, with ridgeline after ridgeline slowly fading into the midst of encircling rainstorms, and the pictures we took of the group while up there, were classic. It was a moment for me as an alum to connect with an increasingly younger team and tan in the warm glow of their recent season. Possibly the most fun I had all weekend, and that’s with us winning the tournament to boot.

After the photo session, clouds and wind moved in on us with the speed of conviction. Brown was on pace to challenge the course record, so it became imperative to hike back to where we’d left off and finish the round. In the end Brown’s -15 wasn’t enough, but the rain held off until the moment we began driving back down the mountain to Boulder. It would begin a pattern all weekend of the rain holding off until the last possible moment. We returned, everyone hung out and passed the time fidgeting restlessly, counting seconds till tomorrow.

I awoke without any effort the next day at 6:40. If you know me and my morning habits I don’t need to tell you that I was excited. I had it in my head that I would prepare all my things early, shower up, and load my things into Mitch’s truck so I could ride my bike to the fields. Pleasantview Soccer Complex, that pristine pitch that’s a privilege to play on, is only 3 miles from my house and entirely downhill. The plan was to use that light wind created from cruising down hills to slap my mind into a centered state. I’ll be playing on the O line this year, and there’s an invigorating feeling I get from an early morning bike ride that I wanted to feel. Without it being too hot that early, I worked up a nice sweat and passed several cars of players headed for the fields. I was glad I’d ridden.

If you haven’t had any for a while, when you find yourself about to get some again you’re having trouble stopping all that excitement from erupting out of you all at once and spazzing everywhere. You can’t help it, you’re so jacked you’re bound to blow your wad too quickly. So it was no surprise to see us faltering against the Condors in our first game. For many it was the first competitive game they’d played since Nationals, and we were all over the field at all times, but never on the same page. The result was failed opportunities to break when we had the chance and stupid mistakes that led to us being broken. Highlights during that stretch include me throwing a hitch pass to Ryan that got monstrously blocked and the handlers refusing to complete easy passes to each other. It wasn’t until late in the game, too late, that we settled into a rhythm and got our mojo back but by then we couldn’t overcome the horn. The hard cap blew as our defense broke them again with a long huck and the moment we caught the disc, the game was over and we’d lost 13-12.

Here I must get cliché and say losing to the Condors was the best thing that happened to us all weekend. Certainly, it focused me. I’ve been nursing an undefeated Colorado tournament record since I moved here and the thought of it ending because we came out flat in our first game was chilling. I resolved to reduce my errors and tighten up the defense when we turned it.

Predictably, we sought to correct our errors from the Condors game and used Truck Stop players as props to this end. I was really unimpressed with their level of conditioning. I understand we’re at altitude, but it’s not that big a change that you can’t run anymore two games into a tournament. In a very telling development later, as I walked past their fields shortly after they’d lost to Boston on double game point, A.J. was trying to bring his team in and one of them kept yelling at him, “Why? What are you going to say? What are you going to say? What the fuck do you have to talk about?” Sounded like a rough weekend for them, though they did nip Machine by 1 for their only victory of the weekend.

After Truck Stop we felt warmed and ready, and I assumed Sub Zero would feel the same way after their own 15-7 drubbing of regional rival Machine. I knew they’d be fired up to play us and prove to us they can actually hang, and hang they did – for a while. But then intimidation set in, as it so often does to them when they play us, and they began to give us the disc. Their offense locked up like cheap brakes, and soon they started dropping easy passes and turfing open throws. Brown was, as usual, the only Snowman making any noise, including a couple nice catches for scores. A late-game lapse by us allowed the final score to seem mercifully closer than the game had been and the hard cap ended things at 14-10.

We finished off the day with an exhausted Revolver, lacking any ammo to mount a real fight. In a game where both D’s were too tired to effectively break the offense we came out on top 14-11. At the end of the day the four games had taken their toll and all teams were glad to be done. Plans to cheer the Rare Air ladies in the showcase game were scuttled quickly as an afternoon storm settled above us and began pounding the fields and players with monsoon rains. I watched several hard-fought but sloppy points, ate free Glacier Ice Cream, and headed home.

We started out Sunday with a Machine team that played like they wanted no part of us. Not sure what happened to them here, because it wasn’t like they played us so hard they were too exhausted to continue. But, sure enough, after we dismantled them to the tune of 15-7, they went on and lost the next game to Truck Stop on double game point. The Windy City players just got blown all over the field that day and closed out their weekend on a 0-3 run.

That brought us to the Jam game, which was billed to us as a must-win to assure our passage to finals by the captains. We came out hot and stayed that way. Sack Lunch acquisition Dave “Popes” Popeil had a coming out party as he went deep for the first several of our offensive points. He’s going to be a monster this entire year. Personally, I toned down the risk Sunday and kept the disc moving with passes to open hands, which helped me establish a rhythm and reduced my turns from this game onward to just one. Felt good. Mangry played awesome defense and toward the end of the game I began to feel Jam slacken a bit as it cut this one loose and focused on our eventual rematch in finals. 15-10.

The last round of games would not affect the finalists, and both us and Jam phoned in our performances, leading to double game point victories over Boston and Truck Stop respectively. As a note, all three of Truck Stop’s games Sunday were decided by a point. They must have been plenty frustrated. On our end, we played haphazardly and let Boston come back in the second half after bursting out of the gates on a little 3-0 run. The final point was a backhand Parker huck to Popes, who used every inch of his tall, lanky frame to snag the disc near the back of the endzone on a game-saving layout. As I tracked the disc behind him I was thankful he caught it, somewhat unready to start playing defense in the event of a turnover.

The finals vs. Jam wasn’t much different from our pool play game aside from the crowd looking to heckle. The game was played pretty cleanly and only a few early calls went to the observers before both teams settled in. Zwick had a huge sky D in the endzone that was not converted, Mangry pressured Gabe on nearly every pass, and our offense was broken once, I believe. I threw a huck to Beau that felt silky from the moment I released it and somewhere in the background people were still talking about the fact I was wearing pants. The last two points were not, as reported, hucks to me, though in the first one Beau called me off and in the second, on game point, he asked me if I wanted it or not. Too busy thinking of catching the disc, I said nothing and he felt liberated enough to go and get the disc over me and two Jam players. This is how Beau operates on and off the field: if he asks you something and you say nothing he will proceed as if you’d given him the thumbs up.

We won, my Colorado tournament winning streak extended to 16-0, and we celebrated with free Flashflights and car bombs on the sidelines. With rain looking to threaten our parade again, we left the field for the Boulder Creek and some Qdoba burritos. But first, I had to ride my bike back home, which in this direction is three miles uphill. I didn’t intend for it to get as serious as it did, but alone with my thoughts and a little high on victories and such I started to talk to myself about finishing the ride and before I knew it I was scaling the hill, legs pumping on the easiest gear I could find, trying not to let my legs cramp up. When I finally came up over the hill and coasted into the driveway, I was sweating and feeling a thrilling sense of accomplishment, the last of my endorphins released. I dropped my bike off, got in the car with my brother, and headed to the creek where the Sub Zero Madison boys took turns jumping into the cold water to reset their souls before the drive back. Like before, as we were getting ready to leave the rain came in force. We said our hurried good-byes, got into our cars, and drove to Qdoba to eat and relax. Later we drove up the canyon to Beau Esrey’s house and met up with people from Jam, Texas, Ozone, Colorado, etc for some relaxing games and drinks. I laid my head down that day thinking not of our accomplishments that weekend, but of the work still left to put in before our trip to ECC in two weeks.

We’re coming in numbers and we’ll be ready. Out.

(with your head)

Chapter One: Remember

You've all put in incredible hours and calories this entire season training. Now you must perform at the peak of your game. With such a long season, it can be difficult to do. So do this: remember back to when you started playing the sport and fell in love. If necessary find a pick-up game and tear the shit out of hapless players. Compare yourself to those that merely play recreationally to notice the incredible accomplishments you've achieved this year. You all have improved. A lot. But sometimes practice can seem like a job and everyone needs to have the fresh feeling of playing disc. Isn't this sport fun as fuck? Do you all remember? Think back to when you didn't know what the fuck a stack was and this game was sunny days after classes in the mud with your friends.

Chapter Two: Prepare

The Hodags have the physical talent and skills to win this year's national championship. But in the heat of a game at nationals, it can be hard to recall strategy, positioning, etc. This week should be head week for all of you. While you sleep, dream of being down by two and catching back-to-back-to-back callahans for the winner. Dream of skying someone a foot taller than you with your nuts over his eyebrow, or laying out past their best player. However, when you're awake and thinking disc, visualize reality. You busting out of the throwing lanes. You turning upfield, seeing no cuts, and dumping immediately. You completing the swing and continue after catching the dump. Never having the disc past stall 7. Never looking off an open receiver. Never being too deep as a stack. Clearing hard. Imagine yourself in the positions you will be in going through the correct motions in your head.

Chapter 3: Strategery

The game-by-game strategy will be decided by your leadership depending on opponent and weather. If this does not include you don't ever think about it - just do as you are told. Even if it's a mistake, as long as everyone is on the same page it'll work out. Problems arise when 7 players on the field are implementing two different schools of thought. As an individual, your strategy consists of personal match-ups and positioning. From the sideline identify players you will likely guard and see what their tendencies are. For the top 2-3 defenders, this will be hard to stomach but believe me: YOUR JOB IS NOT TO GET D'S. It is likely you will be guarding the best college players in the nation and it's fucking hard to generate turns on them. You will still get blocks but you must focus on containing them to doing what YOU want them to do, and above all forcing their superstars to get the other 4 chump players on the field involved as much as possible. For defenders 4-7, all you dudes who may only be getting 2-10 points per game, YOU are the most important players on the team. You will be guarding those chumps that don't want to be involved in the offense, and it is there where you must show your depth and conditioning and squeeze. Hard marks and constant pressure on their weak players will win you a championship. In '03, unknowns JoeyD and Gigo blew up for +15 in the semis and finals while Grant, myself, Carrington, and the other studs just kinda held things down. Who's the mid-level hodag this year that's going to be next year's go-to stud based off the nationals launchpad?

Chapter 4: Intangibles

You want to win a championship. You know there are some teams out there you'll have to beat to do it. Fine. But it doesn't matter who the fuck they are, got it? If it turns out you're playing Brown in pre-quarters, or Colorado in quarters, or you run into a good team early - DON'T FUCKING PANIC! Never base the hopes of your success on when you might play a team, and don't be caught off-guard if you're playing someone sooner (or later) than you expected. This rule is a *fucking team killer* if not followed. #2Colorado '02 lost to CUT in pool play and realized they'd have to play Stanford in semis. What happened? They lost to UNC-W in prequarters. Wisconsin '03 was playing 10-seed and small-rotation Colorado in semis.
What happened? Colorado took half and almost beat us because we expected them to fade. Don't worry about the "who" or the "when", upsets and seeding are out of your control and the only focus should be playing as efficient and aggressive as possible and beating every team you encounter, regardless of who they are and what round it is.

Chapter 5: Sidelines

Sidelines. If there's a hodag with a mouth off the field and he's not shouting encouragement and awareness to a Hodag with legs on the field - if this is you - you are an idiot. Sidelines win games, help the defense know what's happening, and can tangibly account for several blocks per game. It's easy. Do it. If you don't play too much, be a stud on the sides and help your family. DO IT.

Chapter 6: Conserve

When playing against weak opponents and you are comfortably leading, you may conserve energy. This is different from slacking off. Conservation requires quick points with clean offense and intense defense. This means you can stop worrying about who's up two fields over or what team just reamed the top seed or whatever. Just relax, play loose, and run through your points like drills with complete catches and solid fundamentals. This will soften your mind a little and allow you to rest mentally before you have to refocus on the next game.

Chapter 7: Nutrition

Half a nalgene of water per game. Gulps every time you come to the sideline. Salt and potassium tablets every day. The equivalent of one packet of GU per game. Gatorade. Eat after every game, drink always, and listen to your body. Start eating well now, like NOW, so your body is tuned and ready for three grueling days of ultimate.

Chapter 8: Enjoy

Follow these rules, play your hardest, and enjoy the weight of the championship medal around your neck. Good luck to all of you this weekend, and know that you will all hear me from the sidelines. I want you to win a national championship more than you do.

Hodag Love

Seeds for Nationals are not up yet, but just now as I slept I heard that familiar, cursed voice from the velvet bag in my closet.

Damn it, my crystal ball was speaking again. And it had a lot to say. "Lisssssssten. You sssseeek the sssssssseedssss. I can take you only ssssssso far, the resssssults are for you to dissscern on your own."

Announcing the 5th annual Colorado Cup:
August 4-5 at the Pleasant View soccer facility in Boulder -- the same amazing fields as the annual GRUB tournament, 2006 UPA H.S. Westerns, and '99 College Nationals.

This tournament has become a highlight of the season for many teams and will again feature an eight team Elite Men's division, a 12 team Elite Women's division, and a 10 team Open Men's division. UPA champion Fury and UPA semi-finalist Johnny Bravo will be back to defend their Colorado Cup titles. And if the Elite Men's and Women's divisions aren't stacked enough for ya, we had three Nationals qualifiers in the Open division, too.

Women's bids may be sent to Allie Boyd (aboyd7 at gmail dot com); Open Men's bids may be sent to Mike Degnan (degnan at gmail dot com); Elite Men's bids are currently invitation only.

Tournament fee will be $325 (until June 30th).

At Bravo's last practice of the year there was a family of two boys and their parents at the track. The parents had their eldest son doing 200 M repeats while the younger of the two boys did three step approaches on regulation hurdles. The boys ages I'd estimate to be 11 and 8. Despite the cold, the 3 inches of snow from the night before, the parents were cracking the whip on their eldest son to push himself as he did each 200.

At the end of one the mom turned to the dad and said, "Make him do two more. Two more would be good for him." To which the boy, bent over at the waist and sucking air replied,

"I'm about to puke. Maybe you should shut the hell up and go home." Wierd.

Onwards.

Right now...

...Monster is discussing on their email list who is bringing what drinks to the fields.

...Twisted Metal is wondering what game against a big-name opponent they're going to almost win.

...Tim Paymaster, Misha Horowitz, and Danny Clark all have some type of nagging injury. Again.

...Alex DeFrondeville is eligible for social security.

...All the Open division players are making fun of the Mixed division.

...Ben Wiggins is in front of a mirror trying on different shades of eye black.

...Brendon Steets and Todd Owens are united in prayer.

...Cyle Van Auken is looking at pictures of himself at college nationals.

...Cyle Van Auken wishes this was college nationals.

...Justice League is bored looking at cabinets at the Home Depot.

...Dr. Chris Hinkle is calling some first year doctoral candidate a dildo.

...Colin Mahoney is lumbeing about ackwardly.

...Rob is hoping UVTv subscriptions sell like crack in Baltimore.

...Tyson Park is visualizing 70 yard forehand blades.

...Jim Parinella is stirring metamucil and smelling of AsperCreme.

...John Hammond is trying to have a conversation and not making any sense.

...Sub Zero is failing to convince themselves they can beat Bravo at nationals.

...The plans Furious has to contain Dave Boardman are doomed to failure.

...Matt Bruss is no longer claiming status as unblastable.

...Revolver is the highest seeded "happy-to-be-here" in history.

...Justice League is wondering about the dates for Revolver tryouts.

...Jeff Cruikshank is unaware of what the word "mark" means.

...someone is underrating A.J. on Chain.

...someone is overrating Jeff Graham.

...you think you know Beau.

...Andrew Brown is waking up sweating from a nightmare in which he turned the disc over.

...Johnny Bravo is not concerned.

...VC ultimate is concerned.

...you're wishing your Gaia cleats had not just blown out.

...the memories of the Sarasota sun and sand are already warming me.

...Benjamin Cohen is looking at a fire alarm suspisciously.

It happened last week, shortly after we finished off a shelacking of our outclasses sectionals opponents. The game just clicked. After a preseason of downs and downs, highlighted mostly by eeking out $1000 at the Texas Shootout and using Sub Zero as a pick-me-up victim at Labor Day, we started understanding each other.

Let it be known, Johnny Bravo is beginning to click, and the time is right. It's go time.

I just noticed this on the web. Gymnogyps californianus is endangered. Species slated for extinction next Sunday. Paymaster now shops here. Because he knows we're coming for him.

The Johnny Bravo '06 season is beginning to take form.

What!?!
Yeah.

(picture caption: Timothy Paymaster awaits his proctology exam at the hands of veterinarian Jolian Dahl, on right)

My brother said that to me, as we walked away from my parents and to my car to meet up with a motley crew of Colorado and Wisconsin players. The men’s finals had just wrapped up, everyone was giving thanks to whoever deserved it, and we walked together across the parking lot with a few moments alone.

Even then, my thoughts on the entire trip, the season in general, the tourney, and the company I shared for 3000 miles in my car began to gel. There was a lot for me to sift through, and I knew that it would take a while to put it all down on paper. Heartlatch Potbreak came out six months after the fact, and while I don’t expect this delay to be anything close, I will take my time gathering my thoughts to make sure I get them right. This one is the short story of how a little brother became a man for my parents, who read here on occasion.

“Sometimes champions lose.” I thought about it, what it meant to an individual and what it meant to my brother. I realized he understood why we played, why this sport meant more than the athletics and car trips. We play to improve ourselves as people. I had talked to Rodrigo early in the fall semester about his goals for the year and how he was planning on achieving them. He had said then (obviously) that he wanted to win the national championship. When I asked him how, he said he was going to work harder than anyone else.

It was so vague. How do you work harder than everyone else, I wondered. There’s always someone working harder. I wished him the best of luck but felt overpowered by his goal. Couldn’t he see that his path to success was impossible?

What my brother did was what I was unable to do: he ignored the impossible. He enrolled in a weightlifting class in the fall three times a week with Muffin and then set about obliterating his squat, press, and leg extension personal records. When I saw him during Christmas he was huge, 175 pounds and incredibly strong. In the spring he enrolled in a yoga class to improve his flexibility, and on top of the Hodags’ already grueling workouts signed up for Accelerate Madison, an 11 week training program that consisted of 3 weekly 4 hour workouts alone with a trainer, tuning his running form and jumping. He dropped ten pounds and made it so you could read the finest muscle fibers in the parchment of his skin. He did it himself, one workout at a time, one class at a time. When finals was over and they’d lost to Florida, he was disappointed for his team. But, despite a few tears, his pride in himself and his accomplishments shone through his eyes and he was happy. Winning the championship was a benchmark, one way to prove to himself he’d met his goals. By season’s end, though, he understood that he didn’t need a benchmark. It was within him and around him. Just as when Luke Skywalker puts away the targeting computer in his Death Star run, my brother realized the only goal he’d really set was to believe in himself, and he’d succeeded.

It was extremely emotional when we parted. We cried then. He said to me, “Eto, this shit gave me a lot of confidence. It showed me I can do anything I want if I put my mind to it.” There, in plain words, he said it. He’s never been big on fanfare. What the University of Wisconsin struggled 5 years to teach him he taught himself in one season.

“Dude we can do anything we want together. Nothing can stop us.” He struggled to say this and I couldn’t look at him in the eyes as I fought back tears. I wipe them off fresh again as I write this and tell you, Mami and Papi, that everything you might have wanted him to learn in college, everything important, he learned it. He did it on his own. He is a champion.

This afternoon we departed from Madison. Sold as a seven hour drive, Chicago traffic made it ten even hours. We made a slight pit stop at The Cheese place, a small box-shaped building colored like a holstein heifer, to purchase a pound and a half of the best sliced brick I've ever tasted. It was delicious.

At a grocery store stocking supplies, Richter picked up what he thought was a Gatorade Ice bottle. When he went to drink it in the car's darkness later, he found out he picked up an already open bottle that someone had refilled with water and replaced on the shelf. He stressed for the next several hours that he might have drank a gulp of water someone had drugged, pissed in, or infected with a deadly disease. So far he's exhibiting no symptoms, but I've got him under close watch.

After a frenzied half hour of wheeling and dealing on the phone, I was able to find a ride for Anthony David Adams to natties, whom we'd inadvertenly left behind. Part of the process was moving Tyson Park to Parker and Deuce's vehicle in Chicago, and we met up with the three stooges at our hotel. The seven of us now are resting for a full day of ultimate and debauchery starting tomorrow at 8:30.

Oh, and never eat breakfast at a Country Kitchen. Just don't.