Tuesday, November 4, 1997
Ultimate Warriors
CLUB Close-up of typical day at practice uncovers game of
laid-back energy
By Stephanie Chan
Daily Bruin Contributor
"Plays well with others," read the white letters on Chris
Quinn’s black shirt. No, Quinn is not a part of a pre-school play
group. He is a UCLA Ultimate Frisbee player.
After slipping into the gear of an Ultimate player for a day, I
soon discovered why this report card statement best describes all
Ultimate players. Having never played a game of Ultimate in my
life, I stepped onto the grass clueless and stepped off it with
sore legs and many lessons.
3:30 p.m. Players begin shuffling onto Intramural (IM) Field #2.
They trade in their school clothes for clothing unafraid of grass
stains, pulling out cleats and plastic discs from their backpacks.
Pretty soon, it starts to look like an outer-space convention as
Frisbees crowd the air during warm-up. Lesson #1: Ultimate players
call Frisbees "discs." As the Ultimate regulars skillfully release
and catch the discs, my disc sputters clumsily through the air and
runs out of gas halfway across the flight path in an attempt to
throw a forehand. Lesson #2: There is more than one way to throw a
Frisbee … I mean, "disc."
4:00 p.m. Drills. Lesson #3: There are no dogs needed for
Ultimate Frisbee drills. Instead, they are a combination of
volleyball digging drills, basketball passing drills and football
patterns.
4:15 p.m. Running and sprints and more drills. I realize that
walking up the hills and stairs of UCLA do not exactly get you in
shape, no matter how good of an excuse it sounds when you push
aside that workout to crack open the books. While the players pant
a little after a series of "Indian runs," high-knees running,
lunges and the mix, I breathe as if I had just walked up and down
Bruin Walk 10 consecutive times. Following this series of drills, I
acquire two souvenirs – a broken nail and a nice red bruise. The
broken nail came from trying to master the forehand throw and the
bruise resulted from sandwich-catching the disc too late. Lesson
#4: Ultimate players sport short nails, and learn how to catch a
disc correctly very quickly.
4:45 p.m. Scrimmage. Probably the easiest athlete to convert
into an Ultimate player would be a soccer player. The scrimmage is
all about non-stop moving and sprinting. Just imagine playing
football with no pauses between each conversion, or basketball with
no rules against "traveling" with the disc. After about 10 minutes
of this, I get that lead-leg feeling. Lesson #5: In Ultimate you
feel like you’re playing every sport you have ever played all at
once.
5:05 p.m. Point evaluation. Lesson #6: One point can last for a
long time. After the first point was finally scored, an observing
captain talks through the point with the players. As the players
head out for another round, I retire my Ultimate jersey for a
spectator’s jersey.
5:10 p.m. Fourth-year student Brett Weil is sidelined by a
bloody nose. He reports, "Ultimate is like a two-ton heavy thing
hitting you in the face." For Weil, it was more along the lines of
100-200 pounds colliding with his face as he went for a Frisbee. An
intentional collision? No way! Ultimate is a game that "relies on
your own integrity," explains law student Karna Nisewaner. Ultimate
is self-officiated; you call your own fouls. The catch phrase of
Ultimate is "the spirit of the game," which simply means you are
out on the field because you love the game, not to hurt anyone. You
play in "the spirit of the game." You are governed by "the spirit
of the game." You are driven by "the spirit of the game."
UCLA has reason to be proud of its Ultimate Frisbee teams. Last
year the men qualified for regionals and were one of the top 30
teams in the Collegiate Southwest Section. Plus, they beat
cross-town rival Southern Cal every year at mercy-rule levels.
All I have to say is that Ultimate Frisbee is a combination of
all the sports you have played before, but it is not like anything
you have played before. Are you totally confused? Then you are at
the same stage I was when I was running around on IM Field #2.
5:45 p.m. The players are forced off the field by darkness. They
filter off the field beaten but happy. I also leave the field
beaten and happy, as well as having discovered "the spirit of the
game," the biggest lesson of all.