Damn Gingers

Every year there is at least one game from which I feel the need to apologize soon after. Last night was that (hopefully) one game. This is that apology: sorry.

In the touchy-feely, self-policing universe of Ultimate Frisbee, all actions and interactions need to be carried out through a smile and a giggle, with a handshake and a high-five and a "good job, good effort" - even when a 16-player squad featuring half-a-dozen slumming touring players is relentlessly pummeling your team into the ground, without concession nor acknowledgement nor pity (and further, switching to zone defence, against the wind, while boasting a score of at least 12-0). No, even in these situations, etiquette suggests that you do not grumble loudly on the field, or whine to your fellow team-mates, or sulk off the field with slumping shoulders and a pout after every point against like a spoiled angsty teen who didn't get that new X-box game (or whatever angsty teens are into thee days) - as I did last night, with my kids watching no less! I promise I will not subject y'all to this behaviour again this year, and likewise, hopefully the HURL schedule-bot does not match us up against Moon Dolphin and their lanky ginger douche again, neither.

But enough about me and my hang-ups.

On the positive side, Jim broke our long-standing goose-egg by perfectly timing and out-jumping an end-zone full of players (yay!); I saw some great snags from Mike and Jean and Nick; collectively (I don't want to leave anyone out) we seemed to be moving and playing better as a team; and Greg - FUCKING GREG - I'm gonna give Cruddick a long awkward kiss on the mouth for sending Greg our way. Again, as we gain more confidence, and as the winds die down (enough already!) - the wins will come, and then we get the power, and then we get the women!

Thanks, all. And thanks for the good turnout at the Ship Victory for some tasty Consolation Nachos (vice Victory Fries), with extra thanks to Maria for not pummeling and eating our pokey, texting server (apparently Consolation Nachos are hand ground and baked from scratch, in Arizona, and delivered via pack mule).

Next week - we ride in our spanky new unis!
-AA