This past Saturday the Wash U ContraBears, the club ultimate team, held a tournament open to all Frisbee loving members of the University. Seeking bragging rights, glory, a pizza lunch, and the prospects of a free Frisbee, the most hardcore Frisbee playing members of the Lee Dormitory first floor decided it was time to represent, Lee-Unit style.
This band of brothers, united by a singular lack of athleticism and a desire for said pizza lunch, was comprised of five determined players from all walks of life (that includes a cushy upbringing in the suburbs of the East Coast.) There was Michael Johnson, the self-described “second most fastest” Michael Johnson on the planet, the tallest member of our team at a shade over six feet tall. Joining him was James Duesterberg, whose ability to play without his shirt on was a distraction to all females in the competition as well as the rest of our team. Then there was Rob Struck, a.k.a. Maverick. His recklessness and the way he approached the game, especially defense, with careless abandon were, in hindsight, a detriment to the team. As for myself, my efforts were described by those not actually in attendance, but told about the tournament at a later time by myself, as “Kevin Sorbo-esque.” Max Kaftal, a battle-seasoned, salty veteran of the Ridgewood High School club ultimate team in Bergen County, New Jersey, led us into battle.
After paying three dollars each, we determined that we would name our team the Lee-Unit, despite my pleas to consider “Team Fabulous,” “The Lords of the Dance,” or even “The Kevin Sorbo’s Herculeses.” Games were to be played first to seven, with three team members on the field at a time and substitutions available only after touchdowns.
Trailing 5-4 in the opening game, the Lee-Unit wisely opted for me to remain on the bench, where I had begun play. However, this seemingly brilliant maneuver was not enough, and we were quickly vanquished. The next game was to be against the Leftover Meatloafs, who utilized a strategy referred to as “they have like, two girls on their team, man” by team member Rob Struck. Proudly informing us that they had been shut out in their previous contest, the wily Meatloafs rallied together and beat us in another close contest.
Suddenly, we were being shelled by teams using actual strategies. An example of this is a “force,” which, according to Kaftal, is a simple defensive concept that I pretended to understand after the third explanation. Believing that strategy in a Frisbee game was analogous to excitement in curling, I was shocked to find out that people actually take the sport quite seriously.
Though the Lee-Unit “basically sucked,” according to Struck, most of the team was not terribly disappointed, due to incredibly realistic as well as low expectations. “Yeah, they’re pretty sucky,” agreed Senior Chris McArdle of the Sigma Suede. Asked for a post-defeat pep talk, de facto captain Kaftal commented, “You guys suck.” However, all was not lost during the three hours of often unbearable heat. The pizza, though mediocre, was supplied in generous quantities, and Duesterberg credits his darker base to the hours spent shirtless.
While many less jaded columnists would attempt to spin the crushing lesson in futility into something more positive, I don’t really see the point.