Nice Try

The artist and player formerly known as The Baron already wrote a masterful summary of the Van Buren Boys experience at MUDI. I know all of you are dying for more, so here we go.

First, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention how I wish this tournament's name hadn't changed to MUDI. Every time I say or hear it, I think of the "I say tomato" song: "I say Muddy. You say Moody." I know it can't be Aquatennial anymore, but I just wish Greggae would have found some loophole and named it something like Aqua Ten Event Loophole (a.k.a. Aqua Ten E.L.).

My fingers can hardly keep up with all my thoughts of the good things about this weekend. Again, just a solid, all around, fun-having weekend.

Friday night, Amesians and Kansians arrived at my house for dinner. I never use canned sauces for my pasta anymore and I think it surprised a lot of people to see me making a homemade sauce. That pleased me. As did hearing that people liked it. I immensely enjoy cooking for people. Making the mini pizzas at Nationals was one of the coolest parts of the trip for me last year. Anyway, we ate, then others showed up and we took a walk down the street for pool, darts, NBA Jam, Buck Hunter, Karaoke, and Gibbler's strip tease.

We met our expectations of Saturday victories, going 4 for 4. We had the perfect game, no goals scored on us, 0 turns. TBA and Ding Wop both gave us a little more than we thought they had. And then the St. Cloud young team scored one on us ... er, okay okay, scored one on me.

On the day, I had 4 D's, though Becknasty kindly pointed out that one of them kind of came right to me. I got scored on once, the only goal in our 13-1 win. I threw 5 goals and caught 1. Zero turnovers.

Saturday night, I saw Rosco's place for the first time. What a cool house! For a while, we sat in front of a campfire listening to fireworks (note: not as cool as watching them). I regaled teammates with stories of the Tranny Patrol, my old magic days, and shared an exact figure of how much I lost on those two hands of poker while we counted out chip stacks. Kevin killed me at poker with his notably disciplined hand selection. Wimer then buried our team early in a game of spades with some extravagant bidding so Kevin got to win .... again.

Sunday morning, my man crush and I drove out to the fields on our way to face Goose Egg. I said to him, "we better be careful with them, they can beat us if we don't take it seriously." Sure enough, they go up on us 5-2, then 6-3. We fight our way back to 11-11 and Kev calls some big lines to lead us to the win. I had 0 D's in this game, a few shut downs on the dump, and allowed one thrown goal by J-Rod. Again, 0 turns.

And now for the get-to-know-ya portion of my blog:

• If you weren't there for it at Rosco's, I revealed to everyone that in high school, I performed magic for cub scouts, third grade classes, and the like. When challenged about the authenticity of my story, I proceeded to fail at a few flourishes with a plastic deck. Once I got my hands on a Bicycle deck, however, I was truly, extraordinarily, amazingly impressive with my 4 types of one handed cuts and 0 magic tricks demonstrated.
  

Madison was next. Maybe they were fatigued from their one point win against Climax, but they put up no fight at all. I got 0 D's. Twice, though, I poached well that resulted in a wild throw for a turnover. I also turned it over for the first time in this game. Then again the next point I played. I made a really poor decision on the first one on a swing to Rob and on the second, I tried to hurry it into Joe's hands in the endzone, only to overthrow him by about 3 field lengths.

And then, the long-awaited Sub Zero game. I'd never played in front of such a large crowd before. Ding Wop played Sub Zero in the sectional final in 05, but the crowd size was not as large or as interested. I think players in the region had been anticipating this game as much as we had. One, they wanted to see if Van Buren is for real, and two, they apparently wanted to see Sub Zero lose, quite reminiscent of Come Inside Where It's Warm.

We pull. Two throws later, Jimmy's huge block of Todd Owen's huck attempt can be heard from fields away and is echoed with a thunderous roar from the crowd. We pick up, and a few throws later, we're in the endzone with an upwind break on the first point. Again, the crowd is roaring.

We pull. Same line for us, but this time, Zero methodically works it up the field and scores on an upline cut. The crowd is deafeningly silent. Even though we had talked about it in the huddle about how there were a lot of people wanting to see us win, it wasn't until Sub Zero scored that it became obvious just how lopsidedly the support favored VBB.

Up 7-6 and receiving with the wind at our backs, fatigue had set in. Sub breaks us twice to take half and to return to serve. And the remainder of the game was much of the same. They go on an 8-2 run to win 13-9. Their depth dominated us. As it probably should have; they had a larger roster and have had just a few more practices than us.

Some highlights from the game:

• Jimmy's block of Todd Owens
  
• Charlie's eruption of "it's down it's down it's down!" followed immediately by a calm "oh, okay" with a what-did-I-do look on his face when told that it was up in an equally eruptive manner
  
• Ben's hand block of Todd
• Karsten catching everything
  
• Todd's gratuitous air spike following a play in which he was not even remotely involved
  
• Ross faking the air spike, in mockery of Todd, followed by a 90 second ovation by the crowd

Personally, I didn't do a whole lot, except try really hard and shut down 3 dumps. I had a small layout catch to save a dump. I laid out 3 other times. Two were really really close ones that I thought were all mine when I saw them go up, but missed them by inches. The third was just a desperate, try-to-be-a-distraction-to-cause-a-drop attempt (the one time I got scored on). Again, 0 turns.

On the weekend, I had just 2 turns, 0 drops, 2 received goals allowed, 1 thrown goal allowed, 4 D's, 6 goals, and a bunch of "nice try's." The layout I had underneath while I was guarding Truesdale was probably my best in 2 years, only I missed the D. Regardless of the outcome, it felt amazing. In general, my body is doing great. No soreness, a little fatigue (especially since Fridays are my hardest workout day right now), but 10% of my skin is decomposing somewhere on the field with all the horse manure. After being denied a cortisone shot from the Doc last Tuesday, he gave me a different NSAID to replace the 1600 mg of ibuprofin I normally take on tournament days and my knees feel brand new. No doubt, my ability to play at a higher level than I have a long time was a result of the pain-free running. I left the fields wanting to play MORE because I hadn't driven home from ultimate in about 2 years without a throbbing right knee.

If this post bored you, replace "right knee" with the body part of your choice and comment with "nice try."

What Motivates

Maybe you've already heard the inspirational story of the first couple of rock, Beth Rodden and Tommy Caldwell. As professional climbers, they were on a "job" in Kyrgyzstan where they found themselves in a 6 day struggle for their lives. Kyrgyzstani rebels of the Islamic Movement of Uzbekistan (IMU) kidnapped the vulnerable Americans while they were resting on the side of a cliff. In the end, they and the others in their group were under the supervision of a single rebel
while they fled Kyrgyz soldiers by scaling the slopes of the mountains. Seeing an opportunity for escape, Tommy pulled their captor, the inexperienced climber that he was, from his grip on the mountain, causing him to fall 2000 feet.

Not believing he could ever kill a man, Tommy broke down, stricken with grief. Only under the support and comforting from his group did he go on.

Later, after finding refuge at a Kyrgyz army camp, Tommy was temporarily relieved to discover the rebel had miraculously survived the fall and subsequently captured (but then, of course, sentenced to death).

Today, despite all the horror they experienced while doing what they loved best, Beth and Tommy are married, continue to live their professional climbing lives, occasionally appear on National Geographic climbing and park programming, and are building a home with their bare hands near Yosemite National Park and El Cap.

It's got me wondering, what have I done today?

Misery Loves CompaKnee

Friday my right knee ached a little.

Saturday, I began to limp and both knees were hurting.

After practice Sunday, I wanted to go straight to the doctor, hoping the cortisone injection would be waiting for me.

Four 200mg milligram ibuprofin tablets aren't doing the trick anymore. I feel like the Luis Castillo of the VBB right now, except I'll never set a major league record for consecutive games without an error. I could, however, become the Spanish interpreter of the team. Just ask the extremely impressed server from La Fuente.

The sweatfest that was the last VBB practice was not to be repeated. Slightly cooler weather allowed for a couple tolerable practice days. Still hot, but tolerable.

Practice for me was okay. I turned it over twice on my first 3 throws, then not again until Sunday, when I turned it over 2 times in one point, and a third time on what I felt was a pretty good throw. Defensively, I got just one D. I should have had about 7. At least 5 times, the disc was within reach and I was hurting too much to give it the little extra. The one time I did lay out, I landed in a bad patch of grass, got up and my hand was perforated by tiny thorned seeds. My hand was bleeding in little tiny spots all over my hands that reminded me of when Inigo Montoya gets stabbed by the sword in the Princess Bride and little circular blood stains magically appear on his shirt.

Drill-wise, I had much fun. A lot of marking and breaking, my favorite things. Throw in a handler up line cutting drill and my perfect practice comes to life. Oh, and for the few minutes on Sunday morning before my knee started to ache, I was able to chase down a disc on D in the huck drill and knock it away, followed very aptly by "Now who's slow, Kevin? Now who's slow?" obnoxiousness.

The answer to that question was, of course, "Lou ... on every sprint after that one."

And now a brief interlude for you numerous readers out there who loyally monitor my blog and know very little about me, fasten your seat belts:

• Ever since learning that a banana can be gently trisected into even thirds, every bite of a banana I ever take, I coax the banana apart in my mouth into the three chunks before chewing it up.
• I have an extra vertebrae. It's great fodder for an excellently dirty pick up line that I'll probably use on Dave Karsten sometime soon.
  
• I cannot for the life of me remember song lyrics. If fantasy singing-to-the-radio-in-the-car were one of the fantasy sports, "negative Lou" would be the top pick. I don't even remember the lyrics for some of my favorite songs of all time, but I do try to sing along anyway. And sometimes when I'm actually able to remember the words, I've memorized the wrong ones. I was reminded of that on the way back from Ames listening to Spirit in the Sky when I sang "I've got a friend named Jesus," while Becky sang the correct lyrics. Oops.
• I once lost more money in one hand of poker than I earn in an entire month. I lost even more on the very next hand. To the same guy. In both hands, I flopped the nuts, he went all in, I called, and he caught a card to beat me. That's poker.
  
• I read a LOT, but almost exclusively non-fiction.
  
• I love food. I like to cook, bake, and eat it. I watch a lot of Food Network and I'm willing to try to cook just about anything from homemade fried chicken to fettuccine alfredo. Given all that, it might surprise you that my favorite food is pickles. I like them so much, I sometimes open the fridge in the morning searching for breakfast and have to talk myself out of eating just pickles for my first meal of the day.
  

And now back to our regularly scheduled blogging.

VBB has been a lot of fun. On the field, between points, during breaks, socializing in general. You can't ask for much more than what the VBB roster brings to the table: good humor, competitive play, tremendous blogging skills, etc., etc. I like everything so much that I'm even really hopeful that I will still like our team in a couple weeks when we receive our ghastly jerseys.

At least they aren't turtle necks, I suppose.

The Proactive UPA

To answer George's question regarding how can RC's (and indirectly, the UPA) be more proactive, I have a few undeveloped ideas. I think the biggest thing they can do is not only remove any financial risks assumed by the tournament directors, but also help them profit.

I think long gone are the days of players resenting other players making a buck off of ultimate -- given the service provided is of a high quality. Look no further than Rob of UltiVillage for evidence of that fact. The guy is obviously turning a profit, else he'd have given it up long ago. Either that, or he's got a sugar mama and is the hardest working volunteer in ultimate.

I have no idea how much Rob is making, nor do I care, nor has any real resentment toward the profit he's making amassed. Why? Because he's providing an extremely valued product. We players value PT, probably more than video footage, which is why I've never really heard much backlash against steep tournament fees (at least not for a couple years). Even Potlatch, the world's biggest and most expensive (from a registration fee perspective) tournament, no longer has "why is the registration fee so expensive?" on their FAQ page. I guess it's not asked very frequently anymore.

Of course, they do publish their $5k+ deficit budget, so maybe that's why no one's asking.

Regardless of the profiting, let's face it, tournament fees are the smallest of the tournament expenses for individuals. I typically spend $20+ on travel, $40+ on food, and $20+ on lodging. Yes, I've spent less than that at tournaments. At some point, every ultimate player has put 7 people and all their gear in one minivan, only to meet another car at the hotel to share one room that by Sunday morning makes you wish you were in a gas station restroom because you need relief from the odor. But now, I'm employed and prefer to sleep without feet next to my head and on a soft surface. As such, being that my club team is 14+ players, it's rare to see my share of the tournament fee more than $20.

With that in mind, after having a conversation with Greg Williams over the weekend, I know he's lost a lot of money over the years putting on tournaments. And I know he's not alone. It's a lot of work and a lot of risk. The UPA needs to assuage that risk to promote the likelihood that a TD will step up and run a good tournament AND not lose any of his or her personal money. Frankly, it's ridiculous for the UPA to ask a person to put dozens of hours into a thankless job that will also potentially leave his or her wallet hundreds of dollars lighter.

How does the UPA do that? I don't know exactly, as I've not seen every budget of every UPA tournament and I've only personally directed one tournament (it wasn't UPA sponsored). Maybe they already do this, but if the UPA were willing to assume some of the financial risk of every UPA Championship Series tournament (in exchange for capitalizing on a percentage of their profits), I'm sure individuals would be more willing to step up. The UPA Event Hosting outline doesn't explicitly address who pays and who profits.

It was not long ago that tournament fees were regularly just $100, but those were the kinds of tournaments run on "ultimate time." The transition to better run and more expensive events happened quickly. Maybe the trend needs to continue.

Bottom line, TDs need not be afraid of making more money and UPA should not only encourage them to make a buck, but help them do it (by promoting the event and supporting the TD's decision to do so). For tournaments such as Regionals, with literally 1000 players, an extra $5 per player goes a long way toward the TDs' pocketbooks, without affecting the individual player's budget. This is especially true in the Central Region this year. A centrally located regional tournament could save hundreds of individuals literally hundreds of dollars each. I know I'd gladly rather choose to personally pay a TD $200 for a tournament within driving distance, than spend $400 on a plane ticket and rental car. Now multiply that by 10 teams of 20 players each.

Is there a TD out there willing to put in a good bid in Chicago and get paid $40,000?

Tulsa spelled backwards ...

The "official" word on Central Regionals is that it will take place in Tulsa, whose state's abbreviation is ironically "okay." It will require roughly 10 hours and 33 minutes drive time for me and my Minneapolis counterparts to get to Tulsa. Taking a rough guess at the average drive time of the players on elite teams competing for spots at Nationals, I'd say it's around 12 hours. Yikes.

Alternatively, they can always spend $250+ on a plane ticket. Sorry Big Ass Truck.

Maybe it's less time or money for some of the teams not competing for a Nationals bid, but what's the drive time or price tag threshold for teams not playing to advance? How many teams who are going to win two games or less will drive 6+ hours to attend, particularly since the Regionals format tends to "eliminate" teams in fewer games?

I said it far more concisely on RSD, but a distantly located Regionals does not promote growth. It hinders it. Let's face it, some teams have a greater vested interest in Regionals. The UPA's efforts should tend to cater to those loyal, committed groups.

Timmy's point about players in the region whining needing to step up to put in a bid is valid, but becoming less legitimate by the minute. The UPA is now generating a 7 figure revenue. Granted, it's still run heavily by volunteer work. But the fact is, as ultimate (and the UPA) matures, more and more players are graduating into more administrative roles (Greg Williams, George Cooke, that one observer guy with the mustache and aviators, etc.). As a UPA member, I expect the UPA to begin leveraging these resources more effectively to improve competition. More precisely, rather than accepting the best submitted bid, they need to be more proactive to ensure excellent bids are submitted.

Here's to hoping the Ultimate Revolution puts it into action.

Another Season, Another Club Team

This my 8th season playing club ultimate ushers in yet another club team to add to my resume: The Van Buren Boys. Not once have I played consecutive seasons for the same club team. I did play for Moe in 2003 and 2006, and it remains as the only team with which I have played 2 seasons.

Year 0: U of M B team
I had been on the team for literally 6 days when I played at UPA Club Sectionals for the first time. This is year 0 because I literally had no idea the context in which I was playing. I was simply told I could play in a tournament that weekend if I paid something like $35. I didn't know where the money was going, I just knew I wanted to get into shape again and compete for something. Jason Curtis was our fearless captain and Dave Perry screamed at me a lot in the games about all the things I was doing wrong. It didn't matter to him that we were a B team and I had only been playing for 6 days. It reminds me that last summer in TCUL, Dave Perry melted down in a game so badly and for such an absurd reason, that both my and his team asked him to leave. That's the only time I've ever seen someone's own team ask that someone to leave midgame.

Year 1: Zero
At this point in my career, Minnesota such a riff raff organization and ultimate was so much younger than it is today that I wasn't even really aware of the difference between some independent tournament that Gustavus would host and the UPA Series. Ultimate was ultimate to me. The leaders of our team didn't really explain the context of our competitions as it related to our team goals. I don't know if we even had team goals then. In any case, a few of our resident team leaders put together a club team that would come to be known as Zero -- because, as they explained it, we were to be better than Sub Zero. I had no idea who or what Sub Zero was. Oh yes, and we were a Mixed team. I honestly cannot remember how we finished that year or who we played. My complete lack of comprehension of our competitive context is probably to blame. Nonetheless, I'm relatively sure that had we played Sub Zero, they would have beaten us.

Year 2: Yellow Number 5
A handful of mostly U of M boys. I was duped on to this team, being told I would be something like the 12th man. Well, for 1 of the tournaments, I was the 7th. We picked up a couple Quebequians that stalled in French at FUCT. I also broke my rib (the first time) in a summer league game this year, then reinjured it 2 more times by coming back too early. That year in TCUL, I had the worst loss of my ultimate career, having been ahead 14-7, and losing 17-15. Club wise, I think I actually played the series with the Minnesota college team and I have no idea how we did. I still was a little unaware of what "club" ultimate was all about.

Year 3: Hot Action/XXY
In what would become maybe the second biggest mistake of my ultimate career, I ended up making the cut on Hot Action, only to quit a few days later because I wasn't having any fun on the team. As a matter of fact, I was miserable. I ended up joining Paul Norgaard's Mixed team, XXY, with aspirations of qualifying for Nationals. Well, of course, Hot Action went on to qualify, and we didn't even make it to a game-to-go. The team was, however, the germinating seed of what would become the Nationals qualifying Flaming Moe team, with Wade, Vu, Rita, Paul, Rachel, and me. The SJU/SBU portion of the group really helped catapult the team into contention, not only by themselves being awesome, but by helping to recruit the excellent talent that seems to come from there.

Year 4: Flaming Moe
This season was the first crossroads of my career. So much stuff happened.

I'm told that I was the last to make Flaming Moe this year (2003) and that the captains vehemently disagreed on whether to take me. This season was also the closest I ever came to making Sub Zero. I made it to the last cut, but as was revealed to me, it basically came down to me or a still wet-behind-the-ears Dan "Q-tip" Miller. At the time, I felt disappointed. I was surprised, too, especially since some of the friends that I did have the team felt I was going to make it. But in retrospect, I'd have taken Dan over me, too. It certainly paid off for Sub Zero and I'm sure Wisconsin wouldn't complain, either. I still can't help wondering what would have been different for me had I made the team. As it was, I learned more about handling in just those tryouts than cumulatively in the rest of my career (somewhat because, before the tryouts, I hadn't done much handling at all). Looking back, I find it very telling that I very nearly made Sub Zero, but I also very nearly got cut from Flaming Moe.

Around the same time as tryouts, Minnesota asked me to captain the team in 2004. I accepted.

By the end of the Moe season, I was on starting line and playing all the key points. My best memory of the team is probably making the upwind layout catch on the first point of the Sectional finals against Hot Action, then getting a celebration injury when the team rushed the field toward me. Wade, who had thrown the break throw to me, raced into me and drilled his shoulder into my jaw. It hurt for about 3 weeks, but regardless, that moment was one of the most exciting of my career.

At Regionals, we lost just two games, both 11-10, one in pool play and one in the back door bracket semi. In the back door bracket, we were up 10-7, too. Had we called a time out, killed some clock, we'd have won 10-9. It begs the question, is killing the clock with a time out a noble way to win a game in ultimate? I say when your season on the line, when months of hard work can be punctuated so bitterly and so disappointingly, who gives a shit about nobility. Just win.

In the end, Moe took 7th at Regionals, having lost just those 2 games. It sparked a small debate on RSD that enlightened me and infuriated a couple Moes.

It seemed like the season for me was littered with moments like the ones in the Woody Allen film Match Point. The tennis ball hits the tape, bounces up, and can come down on one side or the other. One side, good fortune. The other, perhaps defeat. Is it better to be lucky or good? Or, perhaps in my case, would it have been better to have sucked than to be unlucky?

I have a feeling some anonymous commenter will say that the events of my season weren't because I was unlucky. Seriously Kev, just log in and make those comments. I know it's you.

Years 5-8 (FOE, Ding Wop, Flaming Moe, Van Buren Boys) yet to be detailed . . .