Today's practice was at Corte Madera. I managed to miss exactly half of it, as I dashed off after the throwing drills to go fill the cooler. I had arranged for Sunday last week, but thought since Pickett had arranged for the "next one" (i.e. Saturday), he would be bringing the cooler. I was wrong, so went to fix the problem. I had thought that Kris might help me out by bringing the cooler somewhat closer to the fields, instead of his car trunk, so that I wouldn't have to drive all the way back home and back, but apprently helping the wife is less important than World of Warcraft. I drove back to the house, picked up the cooler, bought food and drinks, and drove back to the fields.
Great day for Keebler to show up to practice with us.
I did manage to be at practice for a couple scrimmages and the focused throwing, to which Paul complimented my throws as significantly stronger than previous years. Kris had made a similar comment, speculating that coaching the women's team helped me learn and fix my throwing issues. Regardless, I'm happy my throws are improving, and that people are noticing.
Definitely time for my new throwing coach to help me improve more.
The most important fact I learned today wasn't ultimate related, per se. Today, I learned that Ryan is apparently attracted to me.
VERY attracted to me.
So much so that, if weren't married, he would have asked me out by now (and probably more). Apparently the crush has been going on since he joined the team. Here's how I know this: Every single cut I make, every fake I make, every juke, step, clear and every fucking mistake I make, Ryan is there to tell me what did wrong. Every one. Every single one.
Now, the only way he could possibly see everything I do (wrong) is if he is watching me non-stop. And the only reason he would be watching every moment would be because he has a crush on me.
He lurves me.
You know my logic is irrefutable.
I just wish I had figured this out last year before I yelled at him for trying to direct every single step I made, from the sideline. Only Kris has a remote control for my feet. I should let Ryan know I'm married, in case he missed all of my snuggly with Kris last year at various tournaments. Then maybe he'll stop telling me I should stop cutting when I'm 30 feet open on my defense and cutting to the correct place to pull three defenders on me so that a teammate can be wide open for the score.
Maybe.
