The Collegian

Issue date: 9/12/06 Section: Sports

Not everybody can be a D-1 athlete, and frankly not too many people would be willing to, considering the all-consuming nature the sport seems to have on one's life. That is the beauty of club sports, and not even club- just straight-up randomly organized congregations of kids who want to kick a ball around, channel some adrenaline, and get the ol' ticker going. I recently had an opportunity to engage in one such fun-fest, about two weeks ago at an impromptu ultimate Frisbee game.

At the mention of "Frisbee" the reader is probably tempted to write this off as a stereotypical college experience. Where was the hacky sack, right? I assure you, while there was a flying disk, as well as some bare feet, there was defiantly no guitar strumming, dreadlocks, or the like involved.

What started out as a pathetic passing trio battling the harsh adversaries of wind and a general lack of skill, soon turned into four, then five, and before we knew it enough stragglers had arrived on the scene to form two teams, and the game went under way. I kind-of-sort-of knew everyone, but I feel like the motley nature of the group added substantially to its fun level.

I have not played ultimate since at least eighth grade, though I don't think that I made enough of an effort in those games to even say it counted, so it is safe to say that I have never actively participated in an ultimate Frisbee game.

Nevertheless I charged down the pitch with conviction. I attempted to get open, help out teammates, and even managed to handle the Frisbee a couple times. A healthy dose of competition developed between the two teams; challenges were made, taunting and fake-outs occurred, as well as some jumbo-screen-worthy, how-the-heck-did-he-make-that catches. I was laughing the entire time.

While the opposing team had an edge on us in the beginning, we soon tied up the game, and until the bitter end there was a dialogue of scoring. We played through dusk and the craziest sunset I have seen in a while, right on into dark, the neon rimmed Aerobie (my sister assures me they are the best…) becoming harder and harder to follow, but never completely disappearing.

Like all good things it had to end, much to the dismay of some super-charged players and the relief of those worn-out. "Next point wins," we called, both teams determined to leave the field with a good name. A good fight was fought for that last point. They finally managed to pull one over on us, breaking through with their flawless short game, and that was it. I didn't even care though, I had so much fun. If it wasn't for those players that meant business, I probably would not have even known the score.

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