The last step in the UPA's Coaching Certification program is to take an online test. I (finally) took the test today. An advantage of taking the test online is that it's scored immediately. After taking the test, I knew both that I had passed (yay!), but had received a score of only 93% (boo!). 93%! Sure, it's an A. However, it's not an A+. Where have my priorities gone when I'm not happy with an A?

Out the window, apparently.

I missed the question which asked, "Which of these is an advantage of Spirit of the Game and self-officiating?" both concepts being central to the sport of ultimate. The answer choices were:


a. They force the players to know the rules
b. They provide opportunities to learn conflict resolution
c. The joy of playing over the obsession of winning
d. a and b
e. a, b, and c


Now, this is the only question I had to think about, and think about for a long time (where "long time" is defined in this case as all of 10 minutes). I looked in the handbook for help, without success. Sure, I had 24 hours to complete this test, and sure, the obvious answer from the standpoint of the free-loving hippies of the sport is e, but I'm not sure the "joy of playing over the obsession of winning" (or however it was phrased on the test) is an advantage of SotG and self-officiating. Sure, it's a nice by-product, but is it an advantage?

I chose d. The correct answer was, indeed, e.

So, I have my A, instead of my A+.

And the joy of being a UPA Certified Coach.

Too bad my team is all gone for the summer.

Mom turned old this week. Honestly, she keeps turning old every year, only to redefine what old is and push it back a year. When I look at her, spend time with her, I know what's in store for me in 20, 25, 30 years. I know what I'm going to look like, how I'll walk, how wise I'll be, and, though it's normal to want to be young forever, seeing her makes the years seem almost easy.

I'm loathe these days to purchase gifts for most people, my parents in particular. I know Mom is in a declutter, reduce, simplify phase, much as I am, much as most people are. Overcoming my packrat mentality is not an easy task, so I'm hesitant to contribute to others' piles of stuff.

Since I missed purchasing Mom a Mother's Day, we talked and agreed we would head off to some designer garden store near her when I visited (this was last week), and get her a gift she truly wanted. There were a few pots she'd been eyeing as of late, and giving someone something she wants but wouldn't purchase for herself is giving the perfect gift.

We never made it to the store.

Two or three times in conversation in the first few days I was visiting, Mom or Eric mentioned the vacuum cleaner. In particular, how old and ineffective it had become. They had been looking at new vacuums, but neither was willing to buy a new one, at full retail or sale price. Bunch o' cheapskates (I say in the most loving of terms).

So, breaking from the don't-buy-household-cleaning-items-as-gifts rule, I listened to what Mom and Eric said, found the vacuum cleaner she wanted, and pulled the trigger. Instead of a Mother's Day present, it's now a Mother's Day, birthday, wedding and Christmas present all in one.

Because I'm as cheap as they are.

Mom used it after I had left, and graciously sent me a note after she used it. Her note?

"It sucks!"

Doyle was heading off with Paul on Wednesday, so suggested we have communal dinner tonight instead. Short notice, but lots of fun, nonetheless. Keith and Katie hosted, so all of us went to Assguard for dinner.

Before dinner started, we had the choice of ultimate (the open college CSTV broadcast) or Madagascar. Tragically Andy and I were unable to overcome the collective, and Madagascar won.

One of the characters in Madagascar was a hippo, which prompted a conversation something like

"Hippos are the number one killers of people in Africa."

Someone not listening fully answered, "Who are?"

"Hippos."

"Hippos with AIDS, maybe."

Today was Guy's first day of work at my place. As with Kevin and Kyle before him, I have a college student working around my house this summer, doing all of the little tasks I need done, but never seem to find the time to do. Having someone working at the house solves many of my issues: leaving the house empty all day, leaving the dogs alone all day, having a to-do list a mile long, being short (yeah, Guy's over 6' tall, so he can reach all of the areas above my reach that just need to be reached), you know, the usual.

Years ago, when I said I wanted to hire a high school kid for the summer to work on projects I needed done, Kris thought I was crazy. What person hires a kid for the summer? Businesses sure, but just people? And what kid would want to work all summer on random tasks? It's not like the tasks relate directly to the degree the kid will be pursuing in college.

Just like working in a Dairy Queen contributed little but a great story to my education.

Of course, Paul's parents hate me, so maybe Dairy Queen wasn't so bad after all.

As for who would work on random house tasks, Kyle Smith, Principal Engineer of Krikitt Downs was the first to say yes. Kevin took a little convincing. Guy seems to love the flexible schedule, even if the work is a little bor-ring (there is a reason why the items are still on my to-do list and not my to-done list).

And though Kris thought I was crazy, until all the house tasks started getting done, Mike never thought I was crazy. Instead, he was crazy jealous, and immediately asked if he could have some of Kyle and Kevin's time.

I think they liked him less than they like me. At least my work doesn't involve hard manual labor. Oh, wait, except those cement blocks. Sorry, Kevin, but it was an excuse to get you to take off your shirt, and what do you know? It worked!

So, Guy is following in the Smiths' footsteps. Adam recommended him to me, so I feel good about this working out this summer.

Guy, if you find this post, know that I'm really happy you're here. I'm sure I'll tell you that to your face, too.

I wasn't sure I was going to go to practice today. I was worrying about my knees from yesterday, as they were both hurting so badly in the last round that I could barely walk on the field. I wasn't sure if less than 24 hours would be enough for them to recover, or if practice would make them worse.

I went, though I showed up a ittle late (boo).

The first part of practice was very rough for me. I felt I was always a half step behind my woman on defense, and clueless on where to go on offense. I know that I haven't really played seriously for a long time, and that all of the training at velocity sports is supposed to help me, but my mental game is shot, and I wasn't having any fun.

About an hour into practice, after a particularly frustrating point, I walked to the sideline, allowing another player to sub in on my team. As I walked off, Doyle commented, "That was good defense on Steffi over there." I was surprised, as I was thinking I had done nothing but completely screw-up. His words were just enough to check my downward spiral.

The next set of drills concentrated on the horizontal stack. I lined up against a teammate who would be playing pretty much the same position as I do, so that I could listen to how the offense moves. The first time the ho-stack was run, I was a half step behind my player and she scored easily. Just after she scored, she called out, "Wow, I love ultimate!" She commented to her teammates about how easy the ho-stack was, which annoyed me.

Never one to miss a chance to learn, I adjust my defense and, on the next run, the offense attempted the same play. I stopped my opponent's out cut, forcing her back under to the disc, and marked very hard. She was unable to throw downfield, and eventually turned the disc over on a dump pass. Her teammates started talking to her about how she had to make that throw, she had to throw downfield in this offense.

No comment was made on how perhaps, just perhaps, my defense had been strong enough to stop that throw.

So, offense starts up again. I shut down her downfield cut. She received the disc back under and tried to throw downfield again. Once again, I marked hard, moving back and forth to prevent her throwing, trying to stay lightly on my toes. Her throw is downfield, but short and out of bounds.

Once again, her teammates (my teammates, too, but not at this practice) again start telling her what she needs to do. Once again, no comment is made about my defense.

Just as I thought it was going unnoticed, however, Paul walked by with a huge grin on his face and a little fist pumping. Okay, someone had noticed.

The next point, the woman I'm defending (same player) runs to the endzone. As the huck goes up, I key in on it, successfully position myself well, and knocked it away.

On the next point, the same flow happens, and the disc goes up long for my opponent. I run just as hard to that disc as I had previously, and successfully defended the next huck, receiving a clobber on my right arm which bruised spectacularly later.

At this point, practice doesn't seem so bad. Sure, I'm tired and sore, but I can still play this game. I need to work harder than some people, but, hey, that's the fun part.

I wonder if I can get Doyle to join Kris as the small voice in my head.