ultimate

Could I play worse?

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I don't know how I could have possibly sucked more at practice tonight. Doyle and I had a bad site deployment at work, causing us to stay at the office until after practice had started. Er, until WAY after practice had started. I think Mark said the team had 95 sprints to run because of our tardiness, which had me pretty much completely mortified. I told him I'd rather take my cleats off and not practice than to cause the team that many sprints. He just laughed.

After an abbreviated warm up, I went in, and was scored on. Okay, get my feet under me, try again. Next point, disc moves up the line, I get scored on again. Oooohhhhhhkaaaaaaay. I stepped off the field for a good number of points. After a team rest and a few more points, I was back in again. I was having problems being in a good place on the field, but saw a good opportunity when only Paul and I were downfield and Paul cut long. I cut in and went as hard as I could, Steffi close on my hip. Pickett threw an easy throw to the open space I was running into, and I went hard to it, intending to pancake the disc.

And whiffed with a clap of shame.

The disc hit me smack in a high rib, giving me another lovely bruise to match my other recent bruises and dropping to the ground.

Sigh.

Four points later, and was handling. Shirley came down the field quickly and poached into the open lane. I received the disc, but the thing is, a handler needs to move the disc downfield. I stalled the disc, eventually dumping the disc to Paul and dashing over to the opposite side of the field to clear.

I don't know. Bah, I don't know if I could have played worse tonight.

On the other hand, the heckling of Nick's staying at another hotel at Nationals seems to have paid off. We were able to convince him to at least attempt to convince his girlfriend that the two of them should stay with the team. Unfortunately, the convincing would require more than one teammate to move out of his selected bed space. I have faith in the team, especially since Andy commented, "It's Nick's first time to Nationals. He has to do it right and stay with the team."

Yeah.

Like the champion you are

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The team had a double practice this weekend. Or rather, today, with two practices: one in the morning and one in the afternoon. I ended up missing the morning practice to take care of Kris, though I can't say I was particularly upset about not going to play ultimate at 7:30 in the morning. Of course, still waking up at 7 but not actually doing what you woke up for sorta sucks.

I left Kris propped up on the couch in front of the football game and hustled to the afternoon practice around noon.

I was (happily) called as a handler a bunch today, which once again makes sense, as it allows everyone else on the team to play the positions they're good at and have been working on all season. I had problems positioning myself on a couple points, but shwu helped me out from the sidelines. I managed to throw upfield a couple times, including a satisfying low release under my defender's arm to Will.

After a few six pulls going both ways, a scrimmage or two, and a couple drills moving the disc off the line, we neared the end of practice early. We had one more fun drill, the elimination marking drill where two lines face each other and throw to the first in the line on the opposite side. After throwing, the thrower becomes the marker on the opposite line. If a throw doesn't make it to the receiver, because of a hand block, foot block or bad throw, the thrower has a chance to stay in play by preventing the next thrower from completing her pass.

On the sideline before the elimination marking drill, Will was having some water. "Are we done?"

"No," I answered, "we have the elimination marking drill."

"That sucks."

"Why?"

"Because that's my favorite drill, and I don't feel like doing it."

"Well," I responded, "this is when you suck it up and be the champion you are." It was so cliche, what I said, but it was exactly what Kris would be thinking when he said, "Nothing hurts in the finals."

Will looked at me, and without sarcasm, said, "That's just what I needed to hear." He put down his water bottle, and trotted out to the field to throw in the marking drill.

On the women's side (we split into gendered groups), I was the first out with a bad upwind throw, much like the last time, alas. I still had a good time. Next time, I'm starting with a downwind throw.

Time is all you have. And you may find one day that you have less than you think. -- RP

Pounds: Location Based Statistics for Ultimate

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Pounds is an Adobe AIR based location based stats program for ultimate (er, ultimate frisbee).

The name was given by Kris, who liked the "Location Based Stats" acronym LBS, and noticed it looked like "pounds."

I'm very unhappy with the UI in version one, but happy it runs on any Adobe AIR platform (including the Nokia 770).

Boston Invite 2008 - day 2

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Okay, today was no where near as good as yesterday. I mean, aside from the fact I kept getting plowed into by my defenders yesterday, I didn't have any serious physical problems. I didn't think I was doing particularly better at making sharper cuts and stopping quickly to change directions, but the actions of my defenders said otherwise, as one after another ran into me on the field.

Today, however, I was knocked on my ass from a pivoting thrower who lowered her shoulder into me. Warren and Wade told me to step back, as she was deliberately drawing the foul, which I did, but thought I just made it easier for her to throw all of her throws. I probably should have contested the foul instead of accepting it: if I'm knocked on my ass, I'm pretty sure I didn't initiate that contact. If we had observers, I would have asked for their opinions.

That was, however, the least of my problems today. I woke up with stiff lower back that I couldn't loosen. I knew what was going on. I knew this was a physical manifestation of the frustration I've been having with myself. Knowing this does not make accepting it any easier. I tried to continuing playing, until I ended up dropping two very easy catches that I was WIDE open for, catches I rarely miss.

Eventually, however, my back completely seized on me, making even standing nearly impossible in the waves of pain. I stopped playing and took off my cleats.

And watched from the sidelines as yet another team cheated in a way that COMPLETELY infuriates me didn't help my mood any. Didn't help so much that I actually ended up in a fight with a guy from the other team about their cheating.

"We're not cheating."

"You have four people within three meters of the thrower. How is that not cheating?"

"There's another player in that three meters."

"Which means you get TWO players, not FOUR."

"They're allowed to be there."

"You know you can't have two people within three meters of the thrower right?"

"Yes."

"And your players are within three meters of the thrower, right?"

"Yes."

"And your players know they aren't supposed to be there, right?"

"Yes."

"But they're there anyway, right?"

"That's the way they play."

"So, they know they're not supposed to be there, but they do it anyway. That's the definition of cheating."

"Not if they think it's okay to be there."

"It's still cheating."

"No, it's not."

"How is it not cheating to have four people within three meters, all of whom know that only one person is allowed to be there? It's not like they're 10 feet away, they're like four feet away. The tall guy can touch the thrower!" I cursed here. "That's cheating."

"No, it's not."

How do you argue with blindness? How do you argue with people cheating? Worse, how do you accept a loss to a team that so clearly cheats, and thinks it's okay?

I couldn't. I walked away. I called Kris, waking him up at 7:30 AM, crying because I didn't know how to handle this confrontation, given how upset I was with the moron with whom I just had a screaming match.

To my surprise, the team noticed I was gone. Few people knew why, so I might not have been screaming as loudly as I feared I did.

We lost that game, and the last game of the tournament.

Boston Invite 2008, day 1

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Today was strange. The tournament this year is the same as last year, in that it's a round-robin tournament where we play all the other teams. I note that I didn't write about it last year, despite Kris bringing me two cakes for my birthday. Oddly, I didn't have any tournament pictures either. Strange.

I didn't play much today, but that's not surprising. We have nine women, which is plenty. The team was very encouraging about my playing time, cheering me on when I did go in, which makes me smile every time. I nearly always hear Steffi and Will ("Go, Kitty!"), both of whose cheers make me want to play hard.

We ended up losing the first game to Hooray for Ultimate, Hooray in our first game, which was in the second round. Yes, it's easy to say, "Well, we had a first round bye, they didn't" and "we were still on West Coast time," and any number of other excuses you want to bring, but the reality is they played better than we did. Yes, we had some odd, uncharacteristic turnovers (the one I recall most vividly was Mark dropping a disc on an in cut, uncovered, while still looking forward (i.e. not looking to throw before catching the disc, which is the cause of many uncharacteristic turnovers)). Yes, our energy was low. We lost.

We heard later, after Hooray had lost every other game today, that they said they played out of their minds against us. I like stories like that, where the underdog plays with such intensity and drive that they beat the expected winners. That's why you play the games, because you can never be completely sure of the victor.

My only memorable point in this game was when I was cutting deep to set up an in-cut, and had turned for the cut slightly too soon. Someone had thrown to Lyndsay along the sideline, with the throw it was slightly too far to the outside when she went up for it. The disc bounced off her somehow, and macked up. I adjusted my cut and caught the disc low, with my signature thunk. I turned to see Mark cutting deep at an angle toward the cone on the sideline I was on, his defender right on his inside hip. I put up a loopy forehand that was high and around his defender, which Mark caught seemingly effortlessly. DanO later told me that he was thinking, "No! Conservation of greatness!" when I made the throw, but, eh, know your receiver: Mark's awesome, he'll catch it. Mark did, then threw for the score. Everyone erupted from the sidelines for me.

Doyle did say I ran for a few steps with my arm outstretched, his thinking "Don't run with your arm outstretched! Get there then reach out!" Emily Biss used to catch that way, running with her arms outstretched. It looked funny. I hope I don't get into that habit.

Our next game was against the British National Team, which is going to Worlds. We won the game 15-10, with my only memory of the game being of a very tall Englishman commenting that we were an arrogant bunch after the team rushed the field chanting "I see red!". I have to admit that I sometimes feel uncomfortable when the team does this, especially when the team doesn't really need it to psych itself up. However, I don't mind enough to actually care one way or the other.

Our next game was with Slow White, our cross-country rival since 2006. During the game, in which I played maybe three points (but was QUITE happy with those three points), I started talking with another spectator on the sideline. He commented to me, while pointing to the Mischief seven on the line, "that team isn't well know for its spirit."

I responded with, "You mean, around here, because they beat that team," while pointing to the Slow White seven on the line. I was particularly annoyed by that man's comments, sure he had some connection to Slow White, as I watched the Slow White players spike the disc time and time again after they score. Okay, so, we may cheer "I see RED!" but we don't spike the disc our way to a 15-11 victory.

I did have to wonder, though, if, because Mischief was a top team, that we were becoming Donner-like. Were we the Donner Party of this tournament? Of course, that brought up the speculation that perhaps Donner wasn't as awful as I thought they were, that maybe I was just annoyed/frustrated/spiteful because they were the better team.

Of course, the Donner thought is not new to me.

Our last game was against Puppet Regime, and was also quite unmemorable. We won 13-10.

Tomorrow we play another three games, against Bashing Pinatas, Team Fisher Price, and AMP.

mischief track workout 080603

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warmup:
800m
stretching
form running

plyos:
2 sets 12 push ups
25 single leg calf raises
2 sets15 squat jumps

interval:
2 sets of 6x200m

cool down lap
abs 

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