Kris and I went up to San Carlos today to play in the tenth annual Beware-o the Sombrero tournament. We've been playing in the tournament since 1998, missing maybe two since then. The tournament was originally a high school only tournament, run by the group of high school kids on Christmas vacation, and morphed into a "you're home over Christmas break from college and have nothing better to do so comem play" one day tournament in subsequent years as the high schoolers moved on to college. They've since graduated and moved on to work or post graduate school or, as I found out today, the Peace Corps and missions and such. As a result of the inevitable march of time, this is the final year it'll be held, at least by under this name, with the ex-high school kids as organizers.
Good ideas last, so I expect another group to continue the tradition of the one day tournament the last week of December next year.
My team was led by Eric the Red. Eric managed all of three words before the experienced players (read: over 30) started talking over him. It was a little frustrating to see the toe stepping and hear the cacophony of the elders all wanting to be heard.
We played well as a team, familiarity and skill helping us along. I knew four people on the team (Dave, Sarah, Venga, Phelps), having played with them at various times before. We didn't have any beginners per se on the team, so people who had problems throwing in the wind were our weakest links; which is to say, we didn't really have any weak links.
We won our first three games handily, though not necessarily easily. The third game was against another 2-0 team in our pool. Oddly enough, we went up 9-0 on them before they scored their first point. They had four or five players on their team who played together at a local college, according to Emily who was on the team. Their coach was playing on my team. I suspect they intimidated themselves into playing poorly. The experience is going into my UCPC talk at the end of the month: "don't lose before you start playing."
Lunch of delicious peanut butter and jelly sandwiches was after our first three games. We started late, and came out flat. One of our players, Phelps from San Diego, left after lunch, and his loss was quickly felt. The game capped when we were on our comeback, but not back, so we lost 6-7.
I played well. I had two throwaways, but neither mattered, as they were in games we won. My ankle held up very well, for which I am quite pleased. At one point, Dave McClure (who is no longer at SimplyHired, and is currently waiting the birth of his second child) commented to me, "There's no shame in wearing ankle braces for the rest of your life, if it means you can play."
I thought about it, and, have to agree. I can play with the brace on, and that's what counts.
I can play ultimate.