"They changed their requirements."

"That's software."

We went to the San Jose Spiders game last night to watch some PROOOOOOOOfessional ultimate. In reality, I went to watch Kevy play, since he is pretty much the only person I know on the team.

We arrived just before the game was going to start, so managed to grab a burger before heading into the stands.

The first quarter of the game was pretty standard offense, both sides going man defense. Both teams would throw one throw to center the disc, maybe 2-3 throws to move the disc around, then a huck for a score. And by both teams, I mean, trading points this way for the first 8 points of the game. The individual player moments might have been great, a slightly overthrown disc here, layout or sky there, but the offense as a whole was boring: same thing over and over again, just faster guys and a bigger field.

The Spiders' situational awareness was really poor, which contributed to the boring aspect of the game. Oh look, there guy who always hucks the disc just received it. Maybe just maybe the guy guarding the player who always runs deep should be expecting the coming huck and force under. Maybe? A little bit maybe? Nope. He's three steps behind and look the other team scored. Of course, if you know this guy is going to huck, double team him, which is allowed at this level. Why not stop that huck for a chance at blocking a few shorter throws?

There were a couple other situations very similar that had me wondering what was going on in the players' heads. The Spiders would manage to force the disc to a sideline, then knowing JUST KNOWING the thrower has an incredible inside out, and allowing it to go off, re-centering the disc on the field.

And, yes, I recognize that all of this is easy for me to say from the sidelines, not actually being the player on the field.

I also recognize that it doesn't matter how well you play, you still need to remember the fundamentals.

Score-wise, the teams traded points until around eights, then Seattle pulled ahead. They led for most of the game until the Spiders tied the score deep into the fourth quarter. The behind-the-whole-game made Andy sad.

There's something about being behind in a game for most of the game that both makes things depressing "My team is losing!" and exciting "My team is making a comeback!" Part of human nature, perhaps, that causes us to separate the Us from the Them and devalue the skills and abilities of the Them.

Anyway.

The Spiders lost by one point, after tying the game at 21s. Was a great game, very close the whole way. Exciting for the fans, even if last year's champion team is now 1-4.

So, Andy said, "Let's go hiking!" this morning. I answered something like, "Hhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnnn...." Tilly was a bit more persuasive, though.

We went to the "La Honda Trail" which meant something to Andy and Kris and all the cyclists who ride up Old La Honda Road, and absolutely nothing to me. Which was good, I think. An adventure!

I seriously wish I had brought my Canon, with its macro lens, as many of the pictures I wanted to take were meh with the phone camera I used.

At the start of the trail, Andy told me to "Cross the bridge," then pointed to a fallen redwood tree that crossed a flowing creek. The creek and rocks were maybe three meters below the trunk. Tilly ran across and back and across and back.

I walked to the tree, stepped onto the trunk, and imagined all sorts of visions of falling off the tree. I didn't want to cross. I didn't want to try. When Tilly bumped me as I was standing at the end of the tree, my feet still over solid ground, I decided that no, I was not going over this tree over this creek. Thanks.

This is not the tree Andy told me to cross, but one of maybe a dozen he and Tilly walked across on the hike:

The trail has lots of switchbacks ("Lots of unnecessary switchbacks," as Andy says). The trails are wide and for the most part smooth. Andy said that last week when they were hiking the trail, it was wet, with the creek swollen. The trails were just rivers of mud, instead of the flats of dirt we had. Where trunks and branches were laid across the trail, were mud-flats crossings.

The trail is a loop. At the far end is Schilling Lake (which stinks, by the way) and the only location any cell services exist on the trail. We walked up to the lake and looped back around. At one point, I went on what I thought was the trail, and heard Andy mutter, "I think that'll meet up farther down." Tilly followed me. A few steps in, however, she turned to go back. I kept going. When the trail did meet up with Andy, he asked me if I had Tilly.

"Uh.... no. She turned back."

Which started a find-Tilly search. I couldn't hear Ivan if he had her, so I ran back to where I saw her last. She wasn't there. I ran back to the trail join, where Andy was there, with Tilly.

Phew!

At the end of trail, when we had looped back, we were close to the fallen tree I didn't cross. "Maybe now you can cross," Andy said.

I had some time to think about it, about crossing. Was I going to be peer pressured into crossing the tree? Did I want to cross the tree? Was the reward of the other side worth the risk?

Andy sensed my hesitation and dashed across the log. With his encouragement to keep Tilly still, important to me in avoiding a bump during my crossing, I walked over the fallen tree to the other side. Andy called Tilly, who promptly dashed over the fallen tree and ran all over the small clovers I wanted to picture at the other side of the trail.

Good thing she's cute.

I quickly crossed back over, and, with two poop bags I found on the trail, we left.

Tree crossed.

Achievement unlocked.