These past few weeks have been a hectic lot for the family Wilson. Irrationally deemed unfit to house a grandmother of 80-something, the Wilson Flat has been undergoing an excessively drastic, and equally hasty, overhaul. Being the last active member of the family capable of astonishing feats of strength and skill, I have been tasked with the majority of these overhauls.
The heavy lifting, the careful maneuvering and the inevitable and tragic deep cleaning bother me little, but the painting. Oh how I loathe the painting.
In the beginning I was excited! But I was young, naive even. I was content to wile my days away painting a house, for I was a clever person with quite a clever plan. "Why," I said to myself, rubbing my hands with glee, "if Tom Sawyer could whitewash a fence and have fun, what's to stop me from having the time of my life painting and entire house?!"
Well you see, it seems that when Mark Twain first penned Tom Sawyer it was in an era much different from today. Children in Mark Twain's time were constantly embarking on madcap adventures, repeatedly faked their own deaths, spoke in a constant southern drawl, and, above all else, were incredibly gullible. But we now live in a new, much more painful era. The children in Twain's time certainly weren't incredibly fluent in martial arts. Nor were they ever in possession of a cell phone with which to immediately and conveniently contact the police. And they positively had no such inklings of how to abuse the vague wording of the child labor laws of the 1930s to apply to the unlawful acquisition of whitewashing employees.
God damn Flynn Effect.
Luckily, the house and its unrelenting grip upon my free time will soon be over. All that's left for tomorrow are a few touch ups of yellow, a base coat of white on the hard to reach spots near the roof and the final coat of chocolate cherry (yum!) on the trim. The incredible amount of satisfaction that I will soon feel spurs me onward. A lesser man would've died long ago. But I am no lesser man.
I am a man, who when explaining things, quickly and predictably spirals downward into the abyss of colorful language and blatant hyperbole. I am a man who says to himself, "well then, now that that Mark Twain tangent is over, I can resume writing normally," only to immediately return back to his narrative styling to start yet another story. I am no lesser man.
After all, what sort of lesser man would be so dedicated to catching an overthrown huck, that he would eventually half lay-out, half sprint directly into a pole, and subsequently have a humorous set of artistic renderings made to detail his path to glory? I'm going to venture a guess here and say not many.
A brief side note, today my mom and I decided to plunge headfirst into the dangerous waters of pesto sauce and noodles. My consensus? Quite tasty actually, I'm unsure of why exactly it took me so long to go about sampling what pesto sauce had to offer. I also wish I knew what exactly was in pesto sauce so I could avoid any chance of being incredibly sickened by the ingredients in some sort of humorous fashion (see also the okra-jalapeño debacle).
Returning back to the original topic (the remodeling the house one, not the whole lesser man thing), the house actually looks pretty respectable now. After living in the unkempt wasteland for so long, it's a nice change to see it all clean. Ahh cleanliness and order, how I've missed you.
The current tally for the great house reorganization '07 so far: repainted exterior, three walls of one room primed and painted, wood flooring laid down in the aforementioned room complete with decorations on both the wall and floor, an absurd amount of cleaning throughout the house and I think some other things that I can't really remember and probably aren't all that important to this list. Considering my father's been gone over half the month of July, and both my mom and I work part-time, I'm quite pleased with our progress.
Here's hoping my grandmother still has her eyesight.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Monday, July 30, 2007
People Watchin'
It seems everyone of late, when searching for a name to label their latest artistic tour de force of a photo album, encounter some sort of insurmountable obstacle. An obstacle so monolithic in proportion that it utterly obscures any sort of feeble attempt towards appellation. But lo! In a flash of prolific insight they stumble upon the name "randoms" as the quintessential answer to their creative needs.
Who started this? Why would you start this? Why would you name your album "randoms" as opposed to something more descriptive? And most importantly, why was I not notified of this sooner?
Who started this? Why would you start this? Why would you name your album "randoms" as opposed to something more descriptive? And most importantly, why was I not notified of this sooner?
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Well now that I have expectations, it's only natural to break them
Ahh books, one of my great pastimes. I've read many a book in my day and age. As a child I absolutely devoured books, enough that my teachers didn't know what to do with me. I had a college reading level by the time 3rd grade rolled around, I suppose that might have played a small part in it.
Like all things I've gone through different genres in phases. Somewhere out upon the fringes of my memory I vaguely recall reading a vast amount of Hardy Boys books as a child. Merely whetting my appetite for the fantastical, this eventually developed into a hearty proclivity for horror and fantasy works. Places like Xanth, Amber and Deva were my stomping grounds for the majority of my teenage years, even up to the very cusp of my high school shenanigans. Although once there, my teachers firmly instilled unto me a righteous taste for the hegemony of great novels and the authors thereof.
My fellow peers reacted with apprehension and eventual abhorrence towards an aging man and the woes entailed by his frailty and years. The sea was a harsh mistress, our young minds were told, although one easily surpassed by the committee that required the book for all freshman English courses. Myself, I sat enraptured by the novel, unable to articulate the tremendous flood of emotions that were pouring forth from me. Naturally, in the interest of jockeying for position on the social ladder, I concealed my predilection for fear of ridicule (What?! You like Hemingway? Iain's a misogynist! Iain's a misogynist! ). However, from that point on I knew that the classics were my fodder, and my free time my...giant mouth with which to eat them.
I fear that I'm beginning to start scraping the barrel in regards to books to read at the rate that I'm going these days, although I'm sure once school starts up I'll slow down again. I'm just making up for lost time anyway, nothing to be worried about. Over the school year I think I only read one non-required book for reading, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, but with a multitude of history classes and an English class to boot, I had my hands full otherwise. Easily the main highlight on the literature spectrum from that year was the discovery of What's Eating Gilbert Grape. Our focus for my English class was Iowan literature, which subsequently turns out to be a bit sparse in regards to classics, albeit moderately interesting overall. Although I certainly didn't expect such an amazing book as Gilbert Grape. J.D. Salinger-esque would be the best way to put my summary of that book. By far one of my favorite books in the last few years.
Side note: I feel like I shouldn't refer to my college courses as classes, they just sound so uninspiring. From now discourses of utmost distinction for me and only discourses of the utmost distinction.
Most of the rest of the works given to us by our English professor were fairly uninteresting, although did you know that there was not only a book, but a play and a movie written about our dear Iowa State Fair? The mind boggles. My prof. did inspire me enough to try out Shoeless Joe, the basis for Field of Dreams, though. I felt the need to expand my literary horizons. Well Dr. Broz I did. And now I'm unexpanding them.
All of this leads up to my current book list for the summer of '07. I've been quite busy it seems, considering how ultimate has been consuming my life lately. Most of these were read in a flurry of activity both before and after my trip to Maine. It seems, based upon my rankings, that I have a taste for dystopian novels, although the mood of the ending apparently makes no difference to me.
I'll spare you my layman's reviewing skills: on to the list!
Ranked in order of relative unadulterated awesomeness:
A Clockwork Orange
1984
Life of Pi
For Whom the Bell Tolls
Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
On the Road
Shoeless Joe
Up next, Fahrenheit 451 and the veritable tome that is Don Quixote, wish me luck.
Like all things I've gone through different genres in phases. Somewhere out upon the fringes of my memory I vaguely recall reading a vast amount of Hardy Boys books as a child. Merely whetting my appetite for the fantastical, this eventually developed into a hearty proclivity for horror and fantasy works. Places like Xanth, Amber and Deva were my stomping grounds for the majority of my teenage years, even up to the very cusp of my high school shenanigans. Although once there, my teachers firmly instilled unto me a righteous taste for the hegemony of great novels and the authors thereof.
My fellow peers reacted with apprehension and eventual abhorrence towards an aging man and the woes entailed by his frailty and years. The sea was a harsh mistress, our young minds were told, although one easily surpassed by the committee that required the book for all freshman English courses. Myself, I sat enraptured by the novel, unable to articulate the tremendous flood of emotions that were pouring forth from me. Naturally, in the interest of jockeying for position on the social ladder, I concealed my predilection for fear of ridicule (What?! You like Hemingway? Iain's a misogynist! Iain's a misogynist! ). However, from that point on I knew that the classics were my fodder, and my free time my...giant mouth with which to eat them.
I fear that I'm beginning to start scraping the barrel in regards to books to read at the rate that I'm going these days, although I'm sure once school starts up I'll slow down again. I'm just making up for lost time anyway, nothing to be worried about. Over the school year I think I only read one non-required book for reading, A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, but with a multitude of history classes and an English class to boot, I had my hands full otherwise. Easily the main highlight on the literature spectrum from that year was the discovery of What's Eating Gilbert Grape. Our focus for my English class was Iowan literature, which subsequently turns out to be a bit sparse in regards to classics, albeit moderately interesting overall. Although I certainly didn't expect such an amazing book as Gilbert Grape. J.D. Salinger-esque would be the best way to put my summary of that book. By far one of my favorite books in the last few years.
Side note: I feel like I shouldn't refer to my college courses as classes, they just sound so uninspiring. From now discourses of utmost distinction for me and only discourses of the utmost distinction.
Most of the rest of the works given to us by our English professor were fairly uninteresting, although did you know that there was not only a book, but a play and a movie written about our dear Iowa State Fair? The mind boggles. My prof. did inspire me enough to try out Shoeless Joe, the basis for Field of Dreams, though. I felt the need to expand my literary horizons. Well Dr. Broz I did. And now I'm unexpanding them.
All of this leads up to my current book list for the summer of '07. I've been quite busy it seems, considering how ultimate has been consuming my life lately. Most of these were read in a flurry of activity both before and after my trip to Maine. It seems, based upon my rankings, that I have a taste for dystopian novels, although the mood of the ending apparently makes no difference to me.
I'll spare you my layman's reviewing skills: on to the list!
Ranked in order of relative unadulterated awesomeness:
A Clockwork Orange
1984
Life of Pi
For Whom the Bell Tolls
Adventures of Huckleberry Finn
On the Road
Shoeless Joe
Up next, Fahrenheit 451 and the veritable tome that is Don Quixote, wish me luck.
Friday, July 27, 2007
UNI Ultimate, Codename: LEGUME
I've delayed committing these ideas down on paper for two days now, so I feel like I should before I forget them. Most of these came from a think tank session between myself, "Driven" Nelson, Ying, and Dunlay, so any commentary is welcome. I have yet to bounce any of these off of Terp or Cartier, or the team for that matter, but I don't really feel like many of the players at UNI are as into Ultimate as I am, so I don't think they'll have many qualms.
First of all, UNIPUC needs jerseys. Badly. We're currently sporting some sort of pseudo-attitude tee as our jersey of choice, that needs to be replaced. I'm fairly certain Patagonia would most likely be who I'd be looking to for jerseys, everything that I've seen I've liked, and the other companies I haven't been too sure about. I'm unsure of when exactly to buy the jerseys, I want the players that wear them to be loyal to the team and not the iffy people that come once every two weeks or so. I was setting a tentative date as a month after Grinnell or so, that way I'll be able to see who's willing to at least give up time for a tournament and any of the people that don't like the atmosphere can peel off.
Anyway, the jerseys. I think we finally agreed upon most likely a blood red color (I'm sure a lot of teams use it, but it's so cool!) and a metallic gold, or if that's not a suitable choice for a color, probably the next blue up from Carolina Blue. I was aiming for an aquamarine or maybe even a turquoise blue/green, but getting that metallic gold would definitely be my first choice. (These all being jersey base colors). You just don't see something like that ever, but I suppose that could be due to the fact that it's not possible to make. Writing on the respective colors would be gold for red, red for gold, etc. For blue either black or white? We were unsure about that. Definitely not orange though, that was a resounding no. Complimentary colors are apparently a no go with blue/orange.
Looking at the jersey options from the Patagonia website I think I'd be leaning towards Marina blue/black print and then Chili red if there's the chance of having gold print, otherwise crimson/black. Naturally this all depends on what the team thinks, but those two colors both match what I had in mind.
Now the big problem, insignia. After a mid-this-post outing to Cafe Milo / the Boheme, Ying and I tried to brainstorm some ideas on what to do about it. We narrowed it down to a good six, although our last two are a little iffy.
1. (Inside joke) One of the dragons from Bubble Bobble - his head open (a la gameplay) while creating a few bubbles, the number would be inside the largest one.
2. Panther version I: A stern looking panther, complete with cane, monocle and top hat, looking disapprovingly upon the rest of the ultimate masses.
3. A Tony the Tiger / Captain America panther (Thumbs up, soldier!).
4. An envelope asking "Sectionals...?" with a large red DENIED stamped over it
5. (Stretching for ideas here): Bagheera from the Jungle Book
6. Pink Panther!
I feel like we'll probably go with 2 or 3, but man would 1 or 4 be amazing. If only.
There's probably also the slight chance that we have some artistic geniuses on our team that could pull out a spiffy looking symbol like ISUC's, but that would be a very slight chance. Mike Lun, where are you in our great hour of need?!
First of all, UNIPUC needs jerseys. Badly. We're currently sporting some sort of pseudo-attitude tee as our jersey of choice, that needs to be replaced. I'm fairly certain Patagonia would most likely be who I'd be looking to for jerseys, everything that I've seen I've liked, and the other companies I haven't been too sure about. I'm unsure of when exactly to buy the jerseys, I want the players that wear them to be loyal to the team and not the iffy people that come once every two weeks or so. I was setting a tentative date as a month after Grinnell or so, that way I'll be able to see who's willing to at least give up time for a tournament and any of the people that don't like the atmosphere can peel off.
Anyway, the jerseys. I think we finally agreed upon most likely a blood red color (I'm sure a lot of teams use it, but it's so cool!) and a metallic gold, or if that's not a suitable choice for a color, probably the next blue up from Carolina Blue. I was aiming for an aquamarine or maybe even a turquoise blue/green, but getting that metallic gold would definitely be my first choice. (These all being jersey base colors). You just don't see something like that ever, but I suppose that could be due to the fact that it's not possible to make. Writing on the respective colors would be gold for red, red for gold, etc. For blue either black or white? We were unsure about that. Definitely not orange though, that was a resounding no. Complimentary colors are apparently a no go with blue/orange.
Looking at the jersey options from the Patagonia website I think I'd be leaning towards Marina blue/black print and then Chili red if there's the chance of having gold print, otherwise crimson/black. Naturally this all depends on what the team thinks, but those two colors both match what I had in mind.
Now the big problem, insignia. After a mid-this-post outing to Cafe Milo / the Boheme, Ying and I tried to brainstorm some ideas on what to do about it. We narrowed it down to a good six, although our last two are a little iffy.
1. (Inside joke) One of the dragons from Bubble Bobble - his head open (a la gameplay) while creating a few bubbles, the number would be inside the largest one.
2. Panther version I: A stern looking panther, complete with cane, monocle and top hat, looking disapprovingly upon the rest of the ultimate masses.
3. A Tony the Tiger / Captain America panther (Thumbs up, soldier!).
4. An envelope asking "Sectionals...?" with a large red DENIED stamped over it
5. (Stretching for ideas here): Bagheera from the Jungle Book
6. Pink Panther!
I feel like we'll probably go with 2 or 3, but man would 1 or 4 be amazing. If only.
There's probably also the slight chance that we have some artistic geniuses on our team that could pull out a spiffy looking symbol like ISUC's, but that would be a very slight chance. Mike Lun, where are you in our great hour of need?!
Thursday, July 26, 2007
E. III:TR, P. II
Turns out ultimate recap posts take an obscene amount of time and space to make. Also, apparently Seiler has some sort of unparalleled memory that allows him to recall both a specific event, as well as the score after that event, upon a whim. Kevin Seiler, I salute you.
Almost the entire tournament until when my throws started to go a bit downhill I was main handler opposite Greg. That meaning he did all the fancy stuff and when he got stuck or needed a swing/dump I was there. Pivot handler basically. It was kinda nice I thought. I do wish I knew Greg's reasoning of putting me there though, as I always assumed Dunlay's throws, choices, and breaking were much better than mine. Maybe I just have such archetypal pivot handler attributes that Greg wasn't able to resist. That's probably the most likely scenario.
The only thing that I would've liked a bit more was the ability for me to make a deep cut, but I suppose being a handler it's generally frowned upon to do that. I understand the whole reasoning between teams that always keep their handlers back and don't let them make deep cuts, the whole "there are 4 other players further deep than you that can poach off their men and guard you" thing, but man it's just too much fun! That does remind though, if I do chose to go with a ho-stack for UNI it's going to be mighty hard to go deep and not run into someone else's man. Hm. I'll save that thought for a later post.
One of the big things I noticed this tournament, although I don't know why I never really noticed it before, Ames ToP has no depth. I mentioned below the A-team of our team, well that was basically the team that played during any and all clutch moments. By the Candliers game all of us were beat. Mark was cramping, I think Greg may have been too, Dunlay and I were both beat, and I wasn't really doing nearly as much work as Dunlay. Really I'm unsure of why I was so tired, Greg and Dunlay were playing like champs the whole tournament. It was Dunlay's cuts that breathed life into our offense, and Greg's transcendent throws that led us to victory yet again. I suppose I was playing more of a flow position and trying to make sure we never lost that flow, but I didn't really deserve to be all that tired. I guess I should just look to Lun's post concerning MUDI / Seiler's #8 email thingie for solace. (I feel like a stalker, ew.)
I'd go with a player by player recap, but unfortunately I probably remember more from Solstice than I do Iowa Games. That whole "every game on one day" thing really gets to you. Also, smoking those first five teams so badly somewhat limited most of the spectacular plays. The team played amazingly the entire day.
Minor notes for myself: I noticed leading people out the proper distance when they're cutting with a man behind them needs some work on my part. I need to stop throwing where I want them to be cutting and just place it within their reach on the non-defender side.
The marking drill with having either Dunlay or Greg as a mark has really helped my breaks. I need to do that more often / especially at UNI. Being comfortable with a mark trying to handblock you at all costs (especially if it's Michael Dunlay, marking extraordinaire) helps you ten times as much on the field.
My backhand is still pitiful. Continue to work on that.
Iowa Games recap posts: finito!
Almost the entire tournament until when my throws started to go a bit downhill I was main handler opposite Greg. That meaning he did all the fancy stuff and when he got stuck or needed a swing/dump I was there. Pivot handler basically. It was kinda nice I thought. I do wish I knew Greg's reasoning of putting me there though, as I always assumed Dunlay's throws, choices, and breaking were much better than mine. Maybe I just have such archetypal pivot handler attributes that Greg wasn't able to resist. That's probably the most likely scenario.
The only thing that I would've liked a bit more was the ability for me to make a deep cut, but I suppose being a handler it's generally frowned upon to do that. I understand the whole reasoning between teams that always keep their handlers back and don't let them make deep cuts, the whole "there are 4 other players further deep than you that can poach off their men and guard you" thing, but man it's just too much fun! That does remind though, if I do chose to go with a ho-stack for UNI it's going to be mighty hard to go deep and not run into someone else's man. Hm. I'll save that thought for a later post.
One of the big things I noticed this tournament, although I don't know why I never really noticed it before, Ames ToP has no depth. I mentioned below the A-team of our team, well that was basically the team that played during any and all clutch moments. By the Candliers game all of us were beat. Mark was cramping, I think Greg may have been too, Dunlay and I were both beat, and I wasn't really doing nearly as much work as Dunlay. Really I'm unsure of why I was so tired, Greg and Dunlay were playing like champs the whole tournament. It was Dunlay's cuts that breathed life into our offense, and Greg's transcendent throws that led us to victory yet again. I suppose I was playing more of a flow position and trying to make sure we never lost that flow, but I didn't really deserve to be all that tired. I guess I should just look to Lun's post concerning MUDI / Seiler's #8 email thingie for solace. (I feel like a stalker, ew.)
I'd go with a player by player recap, but unfortunately I probably remember more from Solstice than I do Iowa Games. That whole "every game on one day" thing really gets to you. Also, smoking those first five teams so badly somewhat limited most of the spectacular plays. The team played amazingly the entire day.
Minor notes for myself: I noticed leading people out the proper distance when they're cutting with a man behind them needs some work on my part. I need to stop throwing where I want them to be cutting and just place it within their reach on the non-defender side.
The marking drill with having either Dunlay or Greg as a mark has really helped my breaks. I need to do that more often / especially at UNI. Being comfortable with a mark trying to handblock you at all costs (especially if it's Michael Dunlay, marking extraordinaire) helps you ten times as much on the field.
My backhand is still pitiful. Continue to work on that.
Iowa Games recap posts: finito!
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Exegesis III: The Reckoning
I think rather than posting another non sequitur after that last ultimate recap I'll just recklessly carry on, because damn it, I live life on the edge!
Iowa Games. Ames ToP's only yearly tournament. The past two years we were denied victory, but this year, this year would be the one. Our pool consisted of what we originally perceived as being the hardest group of teams in the tournament. We were wrong. We were also wrong about this year being the one. That was a bit of a letdown. Given a choice between being wrong about our pool and being wrong about our prediction to win, I would have most likely chosen the pool thing.
Upon arrival to the fields (the furthest fields away from the road, somebody doesn't think much of ultimate) I noticed a few things. 1. I was quite early, so the awesome, "that one Nationals CLX video where it's perfectly flat fields, a slight fog, and scores of discs being thrown through the air with spiffy inspirational background music and the GOOD GOD IT'S NATIONALS" feeling was inexplicably absent. 2. Your college team that you're going to be the captain of doesn't really like it when you don't play on their team. and 3. Man some of these teams suck balls.
Yet again a slight wind, although a bit more stiff than in Freedom Fest. Enough that certain enterprising teams would attempt to form a cup (Protip: that was a really bad idea). Our first game was against a very green looking Marshalltown team. Our warmups were so breathtaking that many of their players were visibly shaken, but then again, that's what happens when you bring little city boys to a big man's tournament. We dominate 9-3. I was particularly happy with myself that game, as I had finally gone out and purchased a few pairs of nice pre-ultimate pants, so on the sidelines I was reppin' the Goodwill Scene like nobody's business. Color my team impressed.
Game two, Cobra Kai. Now I have to hand it them, the players of Cobra Kai are equally as harsh on each other on the field as they are in the dojo. Additionally, they had some future UNI players that I was scoping out. One cutter, and pseudo-handler it looked like. I like the cutter, he was fast, quiet, probably is used to losing, typical UNI material. The pseudo-handler I really can't see playing ultimate with UNI, although if he did he'd be a nice change. Like every player on UNI, though, his throws are all incredibly inconsistent, but that can easily be done away with. Game-wise, Cobra Kai comes out swinging, takes us to 2's. Unfortunately for them, however, this time it was Ames Top that swept the leg. ToP 9-3.
Next up Team Backseat I believe. They had green jerseys. I think Paul Utesh(?) was playing on their team? He plays for forest green in DSM League, I don't really know the guy. ToP 9-1. Only highlight of this game that I remember: I took off my shirt as it was about prime burning time and I wanted to avoid last year's train wreck that was my tan lines. I quickly hear a mocking, "gonna show off the bod a little bit eh Muscles?" I had no reply, although found this endlessly humorous the whole tournament (I'm not that muscular).
The Cybernetic Tractor Farm Machines, or more commonly known as UNIPUC. Do you think I should change our name to CTFM? Because I think I should change the name to CTFM. At least then we'd get some respect. The UNI team had been playing abysmally the entire tournament and I mean I guess they did outscore the other teams up to this point, but they looked absolutely terrible. None of the players other than B-Long had been playing over the summer. Terp was playing terribly. B-Long isn't, and never will be a handler, not to mention he still needs to learn the basics of being a cutter. And they had Drake players. Drake players look up to us UNI players as gods of the sport. That might or might not tell you a few things about their team. ToP 9-4.
Being the 2nd seed, for some reason, all we had left was PaB to clinch out our pool. We had heard from the previous teams that the extent of the PaB offense was just to send Gerard deep every play. Naturally, I was given the joy that was to guard him (it actually wasn't that bad). Somewhere in between Solstice and now I've somehow worked up the calling card of being able to guard the opposing team's deep man and/or quickest cutter. I like that feeling, although I wish I knew how exactly I managed to earn that reputation. Regardless, Gerard was shut down for the most part, except for the first of many disappointments, that being a badly placed huck tipped by Mark Shirbroun, that I laid out for and D'd, only to end up having the wind take it and place it directly in Gerard's hands. Damn wind. It would've been fine, if only that exact same thing wouldn't have happened three to four points later.
We went down early, but spurred on by the great defensive stand that not only I, but the rest of our A-team (that being myself, Greg, Dunlay, Torin, Mark and two other people) experienced, we raced into the lead and let it be known that we were unequivocal kings of our pool. I think we may have turned it once, if at all, after the comeback started at 2-4 or so. We were pumped. It may have been the poach and/or lazy D of most of those guys, but working it upwind with Dunlay/Greg and the precision patience of our dump-swing red zone offense felt amazing. If we would've played the Candliers like we did PaB it probably would've been a much closer game. Top 9-5.
A brief 30-minute lunch break followed. I definitely regret not eating/drinking really anything in between this point and the Candliers game. In a one day tournament with eight games in it, definitely not a smart thing to do. The future of UNIPUC ultimate was discussed during this time frame. I have my work cut out for me.
Game Six (ugh). Des Moines Huckers. Led by the shenanigans of Dylan Huey, we never really had much to worry about this team. Dylan had his usual choice words, one of the old guys from UNI was on this team, meh. I think Dumbledore's Army (i.e. the other AHS players) came to watch during this game. They booed us for a little bit, it was cute. Yet another heartbreaking layout D, this time I just didn't get a solid enough hand on the disc. Also, although I didn't mention it earlier, Dunlay again had the same opportunity to get the layout, but for fear of killing me, he declined. Heart you Dunlay! Ames ToP 11-7(?)
The Pella Game. My team told me I looked incredibly burnt out at this point, I was beginning to feel the beginnings of the hydration problems here. Looking back on it that's probably why I remember so little of the actual game. I do remember that Mark got in large arguing match with Loynachan, I like having people that get angry/loud really easily on my team. They provide entertainment. There was a foul called on a second bid for a disc, but both had legitimately made a play on the disc and became tangled at the end. I sided with Mark, as he succinctly put it, "Well then, I guess I should call a foul too!"
...Although his quote kind of loses something in translation. Try saying that to yourself with a Sean Connery accent to it. That's the ticket.
Some other mildly interesting things occurred. Loynachan grunted a lot, Trent was old, you know where I'm going with this. ToP 11-8(?)
And on to the finals we went. To steel myself for such a momentous occasion I was driven to a Portajohn and relieved myself. When I came back we had already started and assumed a losing position. We never really did much about that. They absolutely slaughtered us between their height, vast experience, superb throwing ability, and unique fashion sense. At this point I was unable to will myself to care, as nearly every first cut made allowed a D or dropped the disc. Things like that tend to bring down morale. We probably lost 5-13. At least we continually improve I guess? 8th to 3rd to 2nd. Too bad there probably won't be an Ames ToP around next year to try for the final victory.
Pros: Continual improvement. (Mostly) beating all the teams that we knew/mattered. Solid play from the team in general. The weather being amazing for once. Watching Mark and Brian go at it. Rubbing Dylan Huey the wrong way. Outscoring our pool 45-16.
Cons: Didn't get to eliminate Dumbledore's Army. The three layout D's that weren't actually D's, but points for the other team. UNIPUC's play.
Iowa Games. Ames ToP's only yearly tournament. The past two years we were denied victory, but this year, this year would be the one. Our pool consisted of what we originally perceived as being the hardest group of teams in the tournament. We were wrong. We were also wrong about this year being the one. That was a bit of a letdown. Given a choice between being wrong about our pool and being wrong about our prediction to win, I would have most likely chosen the pool thing.
Upon arrival to the fields (the furthest fields away from the road, somebody doesn't think much of ultimate) I noticed a few things. 1. I was quite early, so the awesome, "that one Nationals CLX video where it's perfectly flat fields, a slight fog, and scores of discs being thrown through the air with spiffy inspirational background music and the GOOD GOD IT'S NATIONALS" feeling was inexplicably absent. 2. Your college team that you're going to be the captain of doesn't really like it when you don't play on their team. and 3. Man some of these teams suck balls.
Yet again a slight wind, although a bit more stiff than in Freedom Fest. Enough that certain enterprising teams would attempt to form a cup (Protip: that was a really bad idea). Our first game was against a very green looking Marshalltown team. Our warmups were so breathtaking that many of their players were visibly shaken, but then again, that's what happens when you bring little city boys to a big man's tournament. We dominate 9-3. I was particularly happy with myself that game, as I had finally gone out and purchased a few pairs of nice pre-ultimate pants, so on the sidelines I was reppin' the Goodwill Scene like nobody's business. Color my team impressed.
Game two, Cobra Kai. Now I have to hand it them, the players of Cobra Kai are equally as harsh on each other on the field as they are in the dojo. Additionally, they had some future UNI players that I was scoping out. One cutter, and pseudo-handler it looked like. I like the cutter, he was fast, quiet, probably is used to losing, typical UNI material. The pseudo-handler I really can't see playing ultimate with UNI, although if he did he'd be a nice change. Like every player on UNI, though, his throws are all incredibly inconsistent, but that can easily be done away with. Game-wise, Cobra Kai comes out swinging, takes us to 2's. Unfortunately for them, however, this time it was Ames Top that swept the leg. ToP 9-3.
Next up Team Backseat I believe. They had green jerseys. I think Paul Utesh(?) was playing on their team? He plays for forest green in DSM League, I don't really know the guy. ToP 9-1. Only highlight of this game that I remember: I took off my shirt as it was about prime burning time and I wanted to avoid last year's train wreck that was my tan lines. I quickly hear a mocking, "gonna show off the bod a little bit eh Muscles?" I had no reply, although found this endlessly humorous the whole tournament (I'm not that muscular).
The Cybernetic Tractor Farm Machines, or more commonly known as UNIPUC. Do you think I should change our name to CTFM? Because I think I should change the name to CTFM. At least then we'd get some respect. The UNI team had been playing abysmally the entire tournament and I mean I guess they did outscore the other teams up to this point, but they looked absolutely terrible. None of the players other than B-Long had been playing over the summer. Terp was playing terribly. B-Long isn't, and never will be a handler, not to mention he still needs to learn the basics of being a cutter. And they had Drake players. Drake players look up to us UNI players as gods of the sport. That might or might not tell you a few things about their team. ToP 9-4.
Being the 2nd seed, for some reason, all we had left was PaB to clinch out our pool. We had heard from the previous teams that the extent of the PaB offense was just to send Gerard deep every play. Naturally, I was given the joy that was to guard him (it actually wasn't that bad). Somewhere in between Solstice and now I've somehow worked up the calling card of being able to guard the opposing team's deep man and/or quickest cutter. I like that feeling, although I wish I knew how exactly I managed to earn that reputation. Regardless, Gerard was shut down for the most part, except for the first of many disappointments, that being a badly placed huck tipped by Mark Shirbroun, that I laid out for and D'd, only to end up having the wind take it and place it directly in Gerard's hands. Damn wind. It would've been fine, if only that exact same thing wouldn't have happened three to four points later.
We went down early, but spurred on by the great defensive stand that not only I, but the rest of our A-team (that being myself, Greg, Dunlay, Torin, Mark and two other people) experienced, we raced into the lead and let it be known that we were unequivocal kings of our pool. I think we may have turned it once, if at all, after the comeback started at 2-4 or so. We were pumped. It may have been the poach and/or lazy D of most of those guys, but working it upwind with Dunlay/Greg and the precision patience of our dump-swing red zone offense felt amazing. If we would've played the Candliers like we did PaB it probably would've been a much closer game. Top 9-5.
A brief 30-minute lunch break followed. I definitely regret not eating/drinking really anything in between this point and the Candliers game. In a one day tournament with eight games in it, definitely not a smart thing to do. The future of UNIPUC ultimate was discussed during this time frame. I have my work cut out for me.
Game Six (ugh). Des Moines Huckers. Led by the shenanigans of Dylan Huey, we never really had much to worry about this team. Dylan had his usual choice words, one of the old guys from UNI was on this team, meh. I think Dumbledore's Army (i.e. the other AHS players) came to watch during this game. They booed us for a little bit, it was cute. Yet another heartbreaking layout D, this time I just didn't get a solid enough hand on the disc. Also, although I didn't mention it earlier, Dunlay again had the same opportunity to get the layout, but for fear of killing me, he declined. Heart you Dunlay! Ames ToP 11-7(?)
The Pella Game. My team told me I looked incredibly burnt out at this point, I was beginning to feel the beginnings of the hydration problems here. Looking back on it that's probably why I remember so little of the actual game. I do remember that Mark got in large arguing match with Loynachan, I like having people that get angry/loud really easily on my team. They provide entertainment. There was a foul called on a second bid for a disc, but both had legitimately made a play on the disc and became tangled at the end. I sided with Mark, as he succinctly put it, "Well then, I guess I should call a foul too!"
...Although his quote kind of loses something in translation. Try saying that to yourself with a Sean Connery accent to it. That's the ticket.
Some other mildly interesting things occurred. Loynachan grunted a lot, Trent was old, you know where I'm going with this. ToP 11-8(?)
And on to the finals we went. To steel myself for such a momentous occasion I was driven to a Portajohn and relieved myself. When I came back we had already started and assumed a losing position. We never really did much about that. They absolutely slaughtered us between their height, vast experience, superb throwing ability, and unique fashion sense. At this point I was unable to will myself to care, as nearly every first cut made allowed a D or dropped the disc. Things like that tend to bring down morale. We probably lost 5-13. At least we continually improve I guess? 8th to 3rd to 2nd. Too bad there probably won't be an Ames ToP around next year to try for the final victory.
Pros: Continual improvement. (Mostly) beating all the teams that we knew/mattered. Solid play from the team in general. The weather being amazing for once. Watching Mark and Brian go at it. Rubbing Dylan Huey the wrong way. Outscoring our pool 45-16.
Cons: Didn't get to eliminate Dumbledore's Army. The three layout D's that weren't actually D's, but points for the other team. UNIPUC's play.
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Freedom Fest
I was pretty stoked for Freedom Fest to tell the truth. After playing with so many iffy teams in the past year or so (and after the PaB-fest of Solstice) I was ready for a change. ISUC brought a solid team to the table, naturally some of the normal ISUC players plus Dunlay, Greg, Torin, M. Lun, Gibbs and Derscheid.
This was my first tournament since YCC with Dunlay, I was curious to see where he'd fit in in regards to the ISUC team. After seeing and hearing so much about Lun I was pretty happy to finally play with him. Gibbs I hadn't really heard much about, just mostly her name tossed around and the word "captain" included, so I just assumed she was amazing. And Derscheid I knew to be an outstanding player through Des Moines League, and a player with an incredible grasp of the game (one day I too will have that grasp).
There were the normal crazy antics on the way up and when we got to Duluth, which turns out has an absolutely gorgeous cityscape during the night, although in the day, it's loses a bit of its luster. Whatever lake we camped at, Superior maybe(?) I can't remember, was breathtaking, although the newb-like forgetting of my sleeping bag was not. Torin and I slept in his van. I wouldn't recommend it.
The tournament fields were nice, a slight crosswind from time to time, but the type that can easily be eliminated after adjusting your throws accordingly. On the way to our first field we encountered a large, puffed up mama bird, who was nesting and/or protecting its children. That thing was fierce. Cones were eventually erected around the perimeter of its territory, although not before some mean-spirited players tried to chase it off. It must have been one of the most stressed out birds in the entire US during that tournament.
As for the ultimate, it took me a while to get used to the cutting of the ISUC offense. I can see where its strengths lie, but it really seemed that we didn't use it to the best of its abilities the whole tournament. That offense needs continual cuts and movement, but a lot of times we ended up getting stuck and the handlers had to work it up. Bad ISUC! Bad.
As mentioned below, I think in the first two games I had already chalked up four or five layout D's, I was quite happy with myself, but I didn't really feel like I got comfortable enough to play my best until later in the second day. A lot of the ISUC guys were impressed with my play, Tim especially it seemed, but I don't think they had ever really seen me play very much.
My very first deep throw in the tournament was a really badly curled backhand that ended up completely missing Ellsworth's deep cut. After that throw I resolved to not handle at all. My backhand has always been the worse of my two throws for some reason. I've been trying to even it out distance-wise with my forehand, but I still have yet to be able to get the correct grip and release point to get it to do what I want. My last practice with ToP I was trying to pull with it and it was working pretty well, but still nowhere near where my forehand is. I'm definitely going to need to work on that if I'm going to do anything worthwhile at UNI.
I'll spare you the details of the games of the first day, we played the way our ranking allowed us to. Our offense needed some work, there were a lot of times where I had the poached deep cut ready, but another player was clogging so I had to just reign it in. Being able to cut deep is a pretty big thing for me, I feel like I'm underestimated a lot in regards to my speed / ups, and that tends to end well for me/my team. And, as I mentioned earlier, that offense needs continual cuts, and we really weren't giving that many. I was thinking about trying that with UNI over the fall, but from how that went I'm definitely going to go with my gut and try the ho-stack. Here's hoping they're able to learn it.
I ended up being too sore / dead feeling to go out to the party. Not to mention I'm not exactly the huge ultimate party type of guy. I'll take a tight-knit group of friends to drink with over a party in a heartbeat. I ended up staying in the hotel with a few other people. Notable happenstances: the RPS National Championships and Master Roshambollah, the apparent citywide shortage of functioning milkshake machines, and the first time sleeping in a bed with another person since the week I was in Maine with Ali. Torin was not amused.
The second day, first game. When I think of Freedom Fest our game against Climax (Luther Alum team) is the first thing that springs to mind. There was an extended warm-up period before that game due to some breakfast choices that left something to be desired. The Luther team looked...tall. Also not very creative in regards to their hair choices, all of them oddly seemed to have the same haircut. A large majority of the time I had trouble lining across from my man, due to sheer uniformity of the Luther team. I suppose that's a desirable trait to have.
I had heard horror stories from my fellow UNI players about Luther teams. You see, back the last time UNI actually went to sectionals (I think three years ago?), they were utterly crushed and thoroughly mocked by the Luther players/Gods of Ultimate. The previous captain of the team actually harbors a deep resentment toward them, and fancies them our rivals. (Hah!) Apparently I, like the rest of the ISUC team, strangely enough, had something to prove.
For some reason while waiting on the line I was able to psych myself up to contest the disc each and every time, and I think my play reflected that. I was put on Jamie (no last name) from Sub-Zero, captain of the Luther team from the previous year, for every single point that he was in. It may have been due to his lack of effort, but I felt like I completely shut him down for the majority of his cutting, and it was only when he started to do more handling that I let him back into the game. Note to self: work on mark, also handler defense. My cutting defense was also eventually what led to my personal highlight of the tournament.
This was the game which contained one of those magical moments. One of those moments where you shuffle off your pitiful human limits. One of those moments where the stars align, where the caprice of karma holds no sway, and where fate gives you a helping hand.
I was told later by Greg that he so badly wished he could've had a picture at that moment, for my feet were at my defender's chest. My sentiments echo his exactly.
We played hard that game and we ended up winning, Deservedly in some ways, not so in others. The last point ended up being somewhat of a letdown due to a player's belief that he could fast count his way to a stall (turns out, if a second fast count / contested stall is called immediately after a previous one, the stall count goes down to six. That would've been handy to know).
The second game of the second day...happened, and we lost. After the Climax game I and a lot of the team didn't feel quite up to playing a bunch of Sub-Zero players (plus Jamie and Dill from Climax, unfair!). We were all too beat to end up playing with Ding Wop for 3rd, I'm unsure of how well we would've done, but then again, I've never played Ding Wop before.
Well, technically I played them at Moustachionals. I distinctly remember Dave skying one of our players (UNI) with both a beer and a cocktail in his hand for the score. Typical.
The post-tournament ride introduced me to the joy of Vanilla Frosties, the promise of the 5 for 5.95 shake challenge, and probably some other things I guess.
The player by player recap?
Greg: Stellar, Solstice-esque. (I'll join his fanclub with gusto!)
Dunlay: Spectacular, he didn't do as much handling as I would've expected, considering he's really going to need to step up next year for ISUC, but as a cutter he's amazing.
Torin: See below.
Misra: Excellent. None of the problems at Solstice were continued at Freedom Fest.
Myself: Superb, throws needed work (addressed at Iowa Games)
Gibbs: Fast/quick, didn't see enough of her play though. I also felt bad as I felt like I should'veMcDonalds where it was just her and me sitting at the same table. It was probably my bad, you were just staring so intently at the table I was unsure of what to do. Or maybe it didn't really matter and I'm making more of it than there really is. Hm.
M. Lun: I could tell his shoulder was probably still bothering him, but an amazing handler nonetheless. It's interesting trying to work with him / I wasn't used to it at all so it was a bit awkward trying to make handler cuts with him. Meh. Deep throws = love.
Derscheid: As solid as I remembered her, whenever she got the disc I felt at ease. Also, her randomly shouted explicatives after points brightened my day, there need to be more people like her. I also felt bad for not being social, but she is a grizzled veteran of the sport and I am not. First rule of ultimate: greenhorns never address their superiors unless addressed first. Appendix: Unless prompted in question form i.e. in the search for greater knowledge.
Freedom Fest: a great tournament overall, with only a few slight things that could have been improved. 8.5 out of 10 stars.
Edit: Also M. Ellsworth: He was like, there and stuff. He did some things.
This was my first tournament since YCC with Dunlay, I was curious to see where he'd fit in in regards to the ISUC team. After seeing and hearing so much about Lun I was pretty happy to finally play with him. Gibbs I hadn't really heard much about, just mostly her name tossed around and the word "captain" included, so I just assumed she was amazing. And Derscheid I knew to be an outstanding player through Des Moines League, and a player with an incredible grasp of the game (one day I too will have that grasp).
There were the normal crazy antics on the way up and when we got to Duluth, which turns out has an absolutely gorgeous cityscape during the night, although in the day, it's loses a bit of its luster. Whatever lake we camped at, Superior maybe(?) I can't remember, was breathtaking, although the newb-like forgetting of my sleeping bag was not. Torin and I slept in his van. I wouldn't recommend it.
The tournament fields were nice, a slight crosswind from time to time, but the type that can easily be eliminated after adjusting your throws accordingly. On the way to our first field we encountered a large, puffed up mama bird, who was nesting and/or protecting its children. That thing was fierce. Cones were eventually erected around the perimeter of its territory, although not before some mean-spirited players tried to chase it off. It must have been one of the most stressed out birds in the entire US during that tournament.
As for the ultimate, it took me a while to get used to the cutting of the ISUC offense. I can see where its strengths lie, but it really seemed that we didn't use it to the best of its abilities the whole tournament. That offense needs continual cuts and movement, but a lot of times we ended up getting stuck and the handlers had to work it up. Bad ISUC! Bad.
As mentioned below, I think in the first two games I had already chalked up four or five layout D's, I was quite happy with myself, but I didn't really feel like I got comfortable enough to play my best until later in the second day. A lot of the ISUC guys were impressed with my play, Tim especially it seemed, but I don't think they had ever really seen me play very much.
My very first deep throw in the tournament was a really badly curled backhand that ended up completely missing Ellsworth's deep cut. After that throw I resolved to not handle at all. My backhand has always been the worse of my two throws for some reason. I've been trying to even it out distance-wise with my forehand, but I still have yet to be able to get the correct grip and release point to get it to do what I want. My last practice with ToP I was trying to pull with it and it was working pretty well, but still nowhere near where my forehand is. I'm definitely going to need to work on that if I'm going to do anything worthwhile at UNI.
I'll spare you the details of the games of the first day, we played the way our ranking allowed us to. Our offense needed some work, there were a lot of times where I had the poached deep cut ready, but another player was clogging so I had to just reign it in. Being able to cut deep is a pretty big thing for me, I feel like I'm underestimated a lot in regards to my speed / ups, and that tends to end well for me/my team. And, as I mentioned earlier, that offense needs continual cuts, and we really weren't giving that many. I was thinking about trying that with UNI over the fall, but from how that went I'm definitely going to go with my gut and try the ho-stack. Here's hoping they're able to learn it.
I ended up being too sore / dead feeling to go out to the party. Not to mention I'm not exactly the huge ultimate party type of guy. I'll take a tight-knit group of friends to drink with over a party in a heartbeat. I ended up staying in the hotel with a few other people. Notable happenstances: the RPS National Championships and Master Roshambollah, the apparent citywide shortage of functioning milkshake machines, and the first time sleeping in a bed with another person since the week I was in Maine with Ali. Torin was not amused.
The second day, first game. When I think of Freedom Fest our game against Climax (Luther Alum team) is the first thing that springs to mind. There was an extended warm-up period before that game due to some breakfast choices that left something to be desired. The Luther team looked...tall. Also not very creative in regards to their hair choices, all of them oddly seemed to have the same haircut. A large majority of the time I had trouble lining across from my man, due to sheer uniformity of the Luther team. I suppose that's a desirable trait to have.
I had heard horror stories from my fellow UNI players about Luther teams. You see, back the last time UNI actually went to sectionals (I think three years ago?), they were utterly crushed and thoroughly mocked by the Luther players/Gods of Ultimate. The previous captain of the team actually harbors a deep resentment toward them, and fancies them our rivals. (Hah!) Apparently I, like the rest of the ISUC team, strangely enough, had something to prove.
For some reason while waiting on the line I was able to psych myself up to contest the disc each and every time, and I think my play reflected that. I was put on Jamie (no last name) from Sub-Zero, captain of the Luther team from the previous year, for every single point that he was in. It may have been due to his lack of effort, but I felt like I completely shut him down for the majority of his cutting, and it was only when he started to do more handling that I let him back into the game. Note to self: work on mark, also handler defense. My cutting defense was also eventually what led to my personal highlight of the tournament.
This was the game which contained one of those magical moments. One of those moments where you shuffle off your pitiful human limits. One of those moments where the stars align, where the caprice of karma holds no sway, and where fate gives you a helping hand.
I was told later by Greg that he so badly wished he could've had a picture at that moment, for my feet were at my defender's chest. My sentiments echo his exactly.
We played hard that game and we ended up winning, Deservedly in some ways, not so in others. The last point ended up being somewhat of a letdown due to a player's belief that he could fast count his way to a stall (turns out, if a second fast count / contested stall is called immediately after a previous one, the stall count goes down to six. That would've been handy to know).
The second game of the second day...happened, and we lost. After the Climax game I and a lot of the team didn't feel quite up to playing a bunch of Sub-Zero players (plus Jamie and Dill from Climax, unfair!). We were all too beat to end up playing with Ding Wop for 3rd, I'm unsure of how well we would've done, but then again, I've never played Ding Wop before.
Well, technically I played them at Moustachionals. I distinctly remember Dave skying one of our players (UNI) with both a beer and a cocktail in his hand for the score. Typical.
The post-tournament ride introduced me to the joy of Vanilla Frosties, the promise of the 5 for 5.95 shake challenge, and probably some other things I guess.
The player by player recap?
Greg: Stellar, Solstice-esque. (I'll join his fanclub with gusto!)
Dunlay: Spectacular, he didn't do as much handling as I would've expected, considering he's really going to need to step up next year for ISUC, but as a cutter he's amazing.
Torin: See below.
Misra: Excellent. None of the problems at Solstice were continued at Freedom Fest.
Myself: Superb, throws needed work (addressed at Iowa Games)
Gibbs: Fast/quick, didn't see enough of her play though. I also felt bad as I felt like I should'veMcDonalds where it was just her and me sitting at the same table. It was probably my bad, you were just staring so intently at the table I was unsure of what to do. Or maybe it didn't really matter and I'm making more of it than there really is. Hm.
M. Lun: I could tell his shoulder was probably still bothering him, but an amazing handler nonetheless. It's interesting trying to work with him / I wasn't used to it at all so it was a bit awkward trying to make handler cuts with him. Meh. Deep throws = love.
Derscheid: As solid as I remembered her, whenever she got the disc I felt at ease. Also, her randomly shouted explicatives after points brightened my day, there need to be more people like her. I also felt bad for not being social, but she is a grizzled veteran of the sport and I am not. First rule of ultimate: greenhorns never address their superiors unless addressed first. Appendix: Unless prompted in question form i.e. in the search for greater knowledge.
Freedom Fest: a great tournament overall, with only a few slight things that could have been improved. 8.5 out of 10 stars.
Edit: Also M. Ellsworth: He was like, there and stuff. He did some things.
And now for something completely different
I remember back sometime during the last half of my freshman year I was in the elevator of my residence hall riding up to my floor. It was a typical ride up, a cornucopia of mind-numbed college students coming back from lecture, but for some reason this ride also contained one of those incredibly bubbly girls who was vainly trying engage people in conversation.
You know the one, the girl that babbles incessantly, at any time, any place. It doesn't matter what she talks about, nobody listens, least of all her, yet she continues her mantra throughout the day, some sort of ward to protect her and the immediate 50 foot radius from sweet sweet silence and serenity.
Naturally I assumed the defensive position, casting my eyes upon the floor and vainly hoping she will choose someone else as her next victim. I notice next to me a fellow captive, a tall buzz-cut bedecked student - clearly the reserved tall man type that avoids all conversation - doing the same. We exchange glances.
The elevator inches up the floors. I alternate between feigning stupidity and exhaustion, but neither seem to have an effect. At long last we arrive at the 6th floor, but alas! Our captor does not budge. Panic is clearly written upon my friend's face. I take in my surroundings one last time before death. She turns, deliberating, yet all the while continuing her current monologue. I shift my weight as to position my head behind my friend's backpack.
Triumph.
My friend looks back at me with betrayal in his eyes. I feel no pity. He feels no pain.
7th floor. I alone am standing in opposition of her goal. I stare desperately at the digital reading, fervently wishing for it to render unto me my freedom. She begins, asking me what about that particular wall is so appealing to others. I remain silent.
8th floor. She tries anew, posing a rhetorical question concerning the willingness of college students to engage in conversation in a social setting. A bead of sweat noticeably drops from my face to the floor. Her phone rings, a sigh of relief. Wrong number, God has abandoned me.
The double doors being to open. I can bear it no longer, I squeeze myself through the crack, distantly wondering what would happen were I to become stuck. My captor is struck dumb at the speed with which I disappear into my dorm room.
At long last I am free! Sole defender of the status quo.
You know the one, the girl that babbles incessantly, at any time, any place. It doesn't matter what she talks about, nobody listens, least of all her, yet she continues her mantra throughout the day, some sort of ward to protect her and the immediate 50 foot radius from sweet sweet silence and serenity.
Naturally I assumed the defensive position, casting my eyes upon the floor and vainly hoping she will choose someone else as her next victim. I notice next to me a fellow captive, a tall buzz-cut bedecked student - clearly the reserved tall man type that avoids all conversation - doing the same. We exchange glances.
The elevator inches up the floors. I alternate between feigning stupidity and exhaustion, but neither seem to have an effect. At long last we arrive at the 6th floor, but alas! Our captor does not budge. Panic is clearly written upon my friend's face. I take in my surroundings one last time before death. She turns, deliberating, yet all the while continuing her current monologue. I shift my weight as to position my head behind my friend's backpack.
Triumph.
My friend looks back at me with betrayal in his eyes. I feel no pity. He feels no pain.
7th floor. I alone am standing in opposition of her goal. I stare desperately at the digital reading, fervently wishing for it to render unto me my freedom. She begins, asking me what about that particular wall is so appealing to others. I remain silent.
8th floor. She tries anew, posing a rhetorical question concerning the willingness of college students to engage in conversation in a social setting. A bead of sweat noticeably drops from my face to the floor. Her phone rings, a sigh of relief. Wrong number, God has abandoned me.
The double doors being to open. I can bear it no longer, I squeeze myself through the crack, distantly wondering what would happen were I to become stuck. My captor is struck dumb at the speed with which I disappear into my dorm room.
At long last I am free! Sole defender of the status quo.
Monday, July 23, 2007
Naturally I was referring to Ultimate
I should probably develop some sort of formula for tournament recaps or some such thing, but I've always been a writer that uses as little preparation as possible. I never cared much for those new-fangled outlines and I don't never plan on changing for nobody, nohow.
Way, way back in the beginning of the summer I was invited to the Summer Solstice down in Tulsa by PaB, the Des Moines League team that plays in every way, shape and form, as you'd expect a "Des Moines League Team" to play. Accompanying me were my faithful chums, Torin, Greg, J-Mis and fellow UNIer, Kyle "Driven" Nelson. Although at the time we didn't know the magnitude of PaB's decision, we would only be playing with roughly four actual PaB players. The rest of the roster was being filled by Ames ToP (us) and some guys from a place called Rolla. Oh how I wish I would've known about that ahead of time. Admittedly one of the guys, with a decidedly feminine name for some reason, was an amazing defender/puller, but the rest...eh, not so much. They definitely filled the roster though.
This tournament, like many to follow, had a multiple motifs that I will soon elaborate upon. The first and most satisfying: the sheer and utter domination of Greg Shirbroun over any and all comers. Now having grown up watching Greg improve I've known about his handling for quite a while, but since his year at Luther his skills have improved dramatically. As a cutter I felt completely comfortable making almost any cut I wanted, knowing that somehow, some way, Greg would get the disc to me. His throwing was completely unparalleled in that entire tournament. We gladly rode upon his back as far as he could take us (something that I'm quickly getting used to).
Playing with J-Mis was excellent. I like his style of play a lot, that being small advances up the field, dump/swings, all that jazz. In my opinion he's one of the harder people I know to guard; something that he's unfortunately taken advantage of many a time in opposing matches. It takes a bit as a cutter to get used to his somewhat lack of Shirbroun-esque deep throws, although he's trying to work on that, and I do think they've gotten better. I felt like he could've played better this tournament, he had a few unforced TO's and the like, but overall what I saw I liked.
Driven played solidly throughout the tournament, his chilliness needs a bit of work, but all around it's going to be nice to have him at UNI, his experience from ToP will play a big factor in him stepping up over the school year.
Unfortunately, ever since his injury near Frostbite(?) Torin has been playing less than sub-par these days I'd say. His throws have advanced quite well from my time playing with him over last summer, but it seems he's lost something in exchange. I really felt this in both Iowa Games and Freedom Fest especially, but all I remember Torin doing is either not cutting / waiting in the stack or sitting in the shade tent resting. Maybe it's unfair that I'm comparing him to Greg, myself, and Dunlay, but it just feels like Torin's abilities as a cutter, deep, and defender have all stagnated. This is probably much more harsh than I mean it to be, but I was hoping for a lot for this summer with Torin, but I guess that injury just took too much out of him.
As for myself, I felt like in Solstice I really came into my own in regards to being a cutter. I recall back in the winter when Ben Lyons said to me, "It's a shame you're a handler over at UNI, you're a great first cutter." In the winter I was unsure what the hell he meant, but after Solstice I wholeheartedly agree with him. A lot of the tournament I was the first cut that started the offensive flow and many times the one that kept it going as well. My defense as well skyrocketed, although the one big problem I had that tournament was getting that extra inch for the layout D. As most of ISUC now knows, I didn't get a single layout D that tournament (although a problem I quickly rectified at Freedom Fest). I didn't do any handling that tournament, I felt very unsure of my throws when in a key handling position, but the throws that I had as continue were quite satisfactory.
Unfortunately despite all this lovely recap, the team itself didn't fare too well. We did end up getting 3rd in the loser's bracket I believe and our losses only totaled a combined 8 point difference margin. Depressing in a way, as having Dunlay would've most likely reversed our fortunes, but still, a satisfying perspective to have in regards to losses.
Way, way back in the beginning of the summer I was invited to the Summer Solstice down in Tulsa by PaB, the Des Moines League team that plays in every way, shape and form, as you'd expect a "Des Moines League Team" to play. Accompanying me were my faithful chums, Torin, Greg, J-Mis and fellow UNIer, Kyle "Driven" Nelson. Although at the time we didn't know the magnitude of PaB's decision, we would only be playing with roughly four actual PaB players. The rest of the roster was being filled by Ames ToP (us) and some guys from a place called Rolla. Oh how I wish I would've known about that ahead of time. Admittedly one of the guys, with a decidedly feminine name for some reason, was an amazing defender/puller, but the rest...eh, not so much. They definitely filled the roster though.
This tournament, like many to follow, had a multiple motifs that I will soon elaborate upon. The first and most satisfying: the sheer and utter domination of Greg Shirbroun over any and all comers. Now having grown up watching Greg improve I've known about his handling for quite a while, but since his year at Luther his skills have improved dramatically. As a cutter I felt completely comfortable making almost any cut I wanted, knowing that somehow, some way, Greg would get the disc to me. His throwing was completely unparalleled in that entire tournament. We gladly rode upon his back as far as he could take us (something that I'm quickly getting used to).
Playing with J-Mis was excellent. I like his style of play a lot, that being small advances up the field, dump/swings, all that jazz. In my opinion he's one of the harder people I know to guard; something that he's unfortunately taken advantage of many a time in opposing matches. It takes a bit as a cutter to get used to his somewhat lack of Shirbroun-esque deep throws, although he's trying to work on that, and I do think they've gotten better. I felt like he could've played better this tournament, he had a few unforced TO's and the like, but overall what I saw I liked.
Driven played solidly throughout the tournament, his chilliness needs a bit of work, but all around it's going to be nice to have him at UNI, his experience from ToP will play a big factor in him stepping up over the school year.
Unfortunately, ever since his injury near Frostbite(?) Torin has been playing less than sub-par these days I'd say. His throws have advanced quite well from my time playing with him over last summer, but it seems he's lost something in exchange. I really felt this in both Iowa Games and Freedom Fest especially, but all I remember Torin doing is either not cutting / waiting in the stack or sitting in the shade tent resting. Maybe it's unfair that I'm comparing him to Greg, myself, and Dunlay, but it just feels like Torin's abilities as a cutter, deep, and defender have all stagnated. This is probably much more harsh than I mean it to be, but I was hoping for a lot for this summer with Torin, but I guess that injury just took too much out of him.
As for myself, I felt like in Solstice I really came into my own in regards to being a cutter. I recall back in the winter when Ben Lyons said to me, "It's a shame you're a handler over at UNI, you're a great first cutter." In the winter I was unsure what the hell he meant, but after Solstice I wholeheartedly agree with him. A lot of the tournament I was the first cut that started the offensive flow and many times the one that kept it going as well. My defense as well skyrocketed, although the one big problem I had that tournament was getting that extra inch for the layout D. As most of ISUC now knows, I didn't get a single layout D that tournament (although a problem I quickly rectified at Freedom Fest). I didn't do any handling that tournament, I felt very unsure of my throws when in a key handling position, but the throws that I had as continue were quite satisfactory.
Unfortunately despite all this lovely recap, the team itself didn't fare too well. We did end up getting 3rd in the loser's bracket I believe and our losses only totaled a combined 8 point difference margin. Depressing in a way, as having Dunlay would've most likely reversed our fortunes, but still, a satisfying perspective to have in regards to losses.
Discourse on method
Before I left Livejournal I gave myself a good two to three month hiatus of not writing anything; that was a bad idea. I like writing as it gives me room to breathe. A safe haven where I can escape from the chaos of living into the eternal order proclaimed by syntax and grammar.
Those two months or so weigh heavily upon my writing spirit; I have so many happenings to explain! So many people to extol! So many philosophical ideas to meander through! But yet I abhor making large, catch-all entries, (although naturally I tend to write a lot of them), so I suppose I'll just take it slowly and try to work up a good, solid manly head of steam.
Where exactly I want to start, I have no idea, although I'm sure it will come to me in time. But what this blog really needs is some meat on its bones - probably a makeover too - but first, some meat on its bones.
Those two months or so weigh heavily upon my writing spirit; I have so many happenings to explain! So many people to extol! So many philosophical ideas to meander through! But yet I abhor making large, catch-all entries, (although naturally I tend to write a lot of them), so I suppose I'll just take it slowly and try to work up a good, solid manly head of steam.
Where exactly I want to start, I have no idea, although I'm sure it will come to me in time. But what this blog really needs is some meat on its bones - probably a makeover too - but first, some meat on its bones.
Sunday, July 22, 2007
From there and back again
Back in the times of yore I started my very first blog on Blogspot. However, being the callow impressionable youth that I was, I left its pleasurable confines for the welcoming social atmosphere of Livejournal. There, myself and a few others took root for the majority of our high school lives and learned all that there was to learn concerning life and its trivialities. Yes, we were the jaded few of Ames High. To our parents we must have been hell, and to the wise we must have been droll, but for me, that time is past.
Perhaps what brings me back to Blogspot is the desire for change. Livejournal was everyman's journal. When you wrote in it you wrote never to yourself; always you wrote to your audience. With this blog I hope to change that. I wish to rediscover those lost musings in the middle of the night that make you clamor for pen and paper. I want to tap those innermost cloisters of immense creativity and genius that every person has inside. I will find my center and be as mysterious as the dark side of the moon!
From this blog I don't really know what to expect. As always, I just desire comfort. I don't do well if I don't feel comfortable, that's the way I've always been and probably the way I always will be. This is just another way of me relocating into my comfort zone, one where I can air the worst grievances, toot my own horn, beat a dead horse, and even shoot the breeze. This blog will most likely end up being yet another eclectic mix of some unknown blogger's soul, but, hey, at least it's my soul.
For the rest of the summer I'll most likely fill this with tales of the main love of my life, ultimate frisbee, interspersed with commentary upon my friends, family, relationship and life in general. Once the schoolyear begins I'll be assaulted with the duties of the captaincy of a dying ultimate program, the intricacies of social life at a college level and, naturally, the studious academic work that I'm so very well known for. I'm unsure of how deep I'll go emotionally in regards to the trying times of my life. Currently I have a girlfriend, so, understandably, venting will be directed in her lucky direction rather than here, although I'm sure there will be plenty left for me to discuss with you.
I hope to end up doing with this what most ultimate players do with their blogs, have the vast majority of the blog being of ultimate recap, with maybe one fifth of the rest being introspection and exposition. I do know that tournament recaps will undeniably be here, so I can sift through my own thoughts and to write down what I need to do, and I'm sure practices will doubtlessly make their way here as well. (It seems my hopes are very well-founded.)
Tomorrow I have a lot of spare time, so hopefully I'll regale you with what I remember of Freedom Fest or Iowa Games and maybe even Solstice if I have the urge, although it all depends on what tomorrow's like. You always have to be in the right mood to write.
Until next time my fair blog.
Perhaps what brings me back to Blogspot is the desire for change. Livejournal was everyman's journal. When you wrote in it you wrote never to yourself; always you wrote to your audience. With this blog I hope to change that. I wish to rediscover those lost musings in the middle of the night that make you clamor for pen and paper. I want to tap those innermost cloisters of immense creativity and genius that every person has inside. I will find my center and be as mysterious as the dark side of the moon!
From this blog I don't really know what to expect. As always, I just desire comfort. I don't do well if I don't feel comfortable, that's the way I've always been and probably the way I always will be. This is just another way of me relocating into my comfort zone, one where I can air the worst grievances, toot my own horn, beat a dead horse, and even shoot the breeze. This blog will most likely end up being yet another eclectic mix of some unknown blogger's soul, but, hey, at least it's my soul.
For the rest of the summer I'll most likely fill this with tales of the main love of my life, ultimate frisbee, interspersed with commentary upon my friends, family, relationship and life in general. Once the schoolyear begins I'll be assaulted with the duties of the captaincy of a dying ultimate program, the intricacies of social life at a college level and, naturally, the studious academic work that I'm so very well known for. I'm unsure of how deep I'll go emotionally in regards to the trying times of my life. Currently I have a girlfriend, so, understandably, venting will be directed in her lucky direction rather than here, although I'm sure there will be plenty left for me to discuss with you.
I hope to end up doing with this what most ultimate players do with their blogs, have the vast majority of the blog being of ultimate recap, with maybe one fifth of the rest being introspection and exposition. I do know that tournament recaps will undeniably be here, so I can sift through my own thoughts and to write down what I need to do, and I'm sure practices will doubtlessly make their way here as well. (It seems my hopes are very well-founded.)
Tomorrow I have a lot of spare time, so hopefully I'll regale you with what I remember of Freedom Fest or Iowa Games and maybe even Solstice if I have the urge, although it all depends on what tomorrow's like. You always have to be in the right mood to write.
Until next time my fair blog.
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