This is what happens when the monkeys in my head get tired of sitting at their typewriters, and start throwing poop at each other instead.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
An open letter to my teammates
For some of you, your career playing this sport is just beginning. For those in the second or third years of playing, you're beginning to realize that the success or failure of the team is more and more dependent on your level of play. For me, though, and I'm sure for the rest of the seniors, this year is about legacy, and a return to the top of the Metro East region.
As a freshman, I had the privilege of being part of a team that worked hard enough to earn a berth at Nationals. There I was, standing on the line at the pinnacle of college ultimate... having learned what a flick was only nine months earlier. That year, we defeated Illinois for g-dub's first-ever win at College Nationals. As short as the time in between seems to me, that was a long time ago. Too long ago. I see absolutely no reason why we cannot win our region this year. I want to make it clear, though, that beating Pittsburgh, Delaware and the other competitive teams in our region starts with you. Obviously, each person should have their own set of goals for this upcoming season, but I want to at least take this opportunity to remind people of a few basic things to keep in the back of your head as the season progresses towards the college series.
Over the course of the spring, every single person will make mistakes; however, the way in which you deal with them is ultimately what will determine your development as a player, and our success as a team. When you make a mistake, and someone points it out, you need to listen. If you're having trouble with something, chances are that the veterans have not only had to fix that problem in their own game, but have maybe even helped another person on the team fix that same problem. Give us a chance to help you -- we know what we're doing, and at least for me, in addition to the I-want-to-win factor, I genuinely want each and every one of you guys to develop into a superior player.
When you're told to do something differently, make improvements, not excuses. If you just did something questionable on the field, and someone tries to give you advice, a detailed explanation as to why you messed up is not always productive. We are concerned most of all with ensuring a mistake does not repeat itself. Trust that the older guys know what needs to be done, and just do it. Implement the advice, but if you still don't get it (and this happens to the best of us), ask again. If the issue requires a detailed explanation, make sure it's done off the field, and not in the middle of something. Keep in mind also, we all do our best to give advice without yelling, but there are times when it just happens. The way I see it, if I'm yelling at you, it's because I know you should be doing better, and I'm disappointed that you're not playing the way I believe you are capable of playing. Don't take yelling personally, and don't fight it when people try to give you advice.
Although this point is fairly straightforward, I want to reiterate that attendance is absolutely paramount for the next three to four months. Missing practices for any circumstance short of monumentally exculpatory reasons is unacceptable. I as a player do not have as much confidence in people who miss practices as I do in people who show up every day and put in the work that needs to be done. Schoolwork must not be an excuse. Every class has a syllabus. I suggest you check yours. Don't miss practice.
Next, do something extra to get yourself in better physical shape. This can be something as simple as stretching every day before bed Ben-Spears-style to increase flexibility, or something as fundamental as improving your diet. Personally, I would recommend getting into some sort of routine in the weight room, especially those involving your core (chest, shoulders, abs, etc.). I recognize, however, that this can sometimes become time-consuming. The point is, do something besides simply what is asked of you.
Finally, all anyone can really ask for is that you work hard. Don't ever stop. When you're running a drill or doing plyos, don't stop before the finish line in any sort of drill - that's losing. Run hard through every drill, take one step beyond the finish line just to make sure you're not sluffing off at the end of a run just because you're tired. When a disc goes up and you think you just got burned, keep running -- you don't know if he's going to boink the disc or bobble it slightly. Adopt a winning attitude in every aspect of games, conditioning, practice, nutrition, whatever the case may be. The only thing any of us can truly control is ourselves. Cultivate a winning attitude in yourself, and keep in mind a few of the things I've mentioned -- just in the back of your head. We can do this. Now more than ever I believe in our team and most of all I believe in each one of you. This might be my last year at GW, it might not -- I don't know. But I'm playing as if my time were just about up as a member of g-dub ultimate, and I hope everyone else can get as pumped for this season as I am. Just know that we have to earn it. Doing so starts with you.
This is what I think about Regionals. Pretty much the only good thing about Regionals being in Edinboro is this: Regionals is NOT in Rochester. My dad's family is from there, and having been there numerous times on visits, it is the bleakest place on the East Coast. I'm sure the Erie/Edinboro area comes close, though. I'm definitely not happy that Regionals is pretty much at the far border of our region, but what can one do?
The discussion was suspiciously limited, as if the decision had already been made. Our Sectional Coordinator, who always seems more or less on top of things, emailed us with the potential locations: Rochester and Edinboro, the "only" two potential locales. Essentially, that's like someone asking "Would you rather have a root canal, or a colonoscopy?" Two days later, we were handed the decision that Regionals was to be held at Edinboro.
All that said, there's nothing I can do about it, and as much as I don't want to drive 7 hours to get there, I realize that Princeton was far for other teams, despite its convenience to us. So I really have no right raise a huge fuss, though I would certainly like to do so. To answer an earlier comment, yes, I was at Edinboro my freshman year, when we made Nationals after a revenge trouncing of Queens' in the game-to-go. I believe we can have a similarly good, if not better, showing this year. I only hope the weather is better. I literally got a mild case of hypothermia when I was up there for Regionals 2004. We actually went into a common room in one of the dorms in order to warm up during a bye round. My teammates had ratcheted up the heat to hellish levels, but even so, I was shivering uncontrollably sitting next to the heater going full-blast. I guess I'll just have to make sure Edinboro is not the last place at which I play ultimate for g-dub.
If any of you out there are looking for predictions, you're not going to get it. I might do something foolish like rank the most consistently successful team in the Metro East at 6th...
Hey, that's great news. I'll have to hit their website and take a look around. Kansas would be a great state for Ultimate, too. So flat you could play anywhere!
Good win for the Colts yesterday. I went to bed with four minutes left in the game, just after the Colts went three-and-out. I needed to get to sleep, and I couldn't stand the two-plays-and three-commercials pattern that they were getting into. Just happy to see the Pats go home. Mom left me a note saying that the Bears won 38-34, proving once again ...
As far as I know Kate didn't get arrested over the weekend. That's a good thing. This was Freakout weekend at RPI. Recruits come in to be entertained, big hockey game, etc.
Today at 4:40pm, I woke up thinking I had a hangover. Additionally, it was one of those wakings-up where you think, oh nuts, I don't remember how I got home last night. It would have made sense that my head hurt I guess - I drank a lot of sugary liquor (krupnikas, for those of you who know what it is). But that's not why. After stumbling into the bathroom, I immediately noticed two large strips of white medical tape on my forehead. Well that's odd, I thought to myself. People should know better than to fuck with me when I am drunk. Idiots. As I grasped the edge of the tape, I had no idea what kind of fun-fun surprise would be revealed...
TA-DA!
A stylish head wound!
The following is composed of other people's accounts of what happened. I remember very little after spiking my phone into the couch because of how angry I was at The Rook.
I was upset because The Rook had stolen Moomi. Moomi was probably as cockeyed as I was, listing against the outside wall of the place and yapping about a sweatshirt he left inside. I told him, do not go anywhere, I will find your sweatshirtand then I will walk your tipsy ass home. He said ok, as drunkies usually do. I pushed my way through the throng of partygoers and finally found the sweatshirt. I fullbacked my way back out, and where's Mooms? Moom mo more. Gone, and by witness accounts, lead home by The Rook.
Called The Rook, and The Rook kept repeating everything was fine, fine, but would not tell me where they were so I could meet up with them. Fucking Rook. I was pissed enough to spike my phone into the couch, but not pissed enough to jog home trying to beat the Rook's Metro back to campus and throttle his Rookishness upon his exit from the station. Seeing no alternative, I decided to go from nicely fuzzy drunk to raging hobo drunk. Allegedly, Bert obliged my numerous but ill-conceived requests for more alcohol. Side note, this is not the first time that has happened. This is where the light switch in my brain gets switched from beer goggles to blindfold.
Once proper fucked, I left the party declaring that I would walk home (I believe I was invoking "penance" as my reason for embarking on this misadventure, if that makes any sense...), rather than take a cab or Metro (which I think had closed at this point anyways). This would have been a good idea had I been at a Boris Yeltsin level of drunkitude, but was in fact a very bad decision because I was drunk as a peasant. The rest of the story is narrated second-hand based on what Premie said about the walk home.
Somewhere in the vicinity of 9th and U (keep in mind, I live at 25th and K), we encountered a group of black people hanging around outside some club. Since Premie was essentially carrying me at this point, they were poking fun at us and whatnot. The biggest of them, who was 6' 5" and like 300 pounds (again all of this is according to Premie), tried to dissuade the rest of the group from fucking with us. But this was to no avail, as a smaller subgroup confronted us farther along down the street.
At this point, the guys in the group decide that since it's playoff season, and they've just seen a good game, they would practice tackling. You read that correctly. I was tackled in the street by some guys. My head ended up getting a nice exfoliation from a nearby brick wall and then landed on Premie's knee, who was also tackled. After lifting my head, Premie noticed his pants were covered with blood. Thus, my badass forehead cut. Apparently, after the big guy caught up to the rest of the group, and since I was bleeding profusely, he went and got us some napkins and even gave us a small container of hand sanitizer to clean the wound. He also apologized profusely, but two girls with the group declared that we were just "some stupid white boys," and then moved on. No robbery or other malfeasance was committed. Just tackling.
So, that's how I was the victim of a hate crime. And now I'll have a totally kickass scar.
Here are some funny road names in my area. The most absurd ones are from Scruffy's town (for those of you who know him, this should come as no surprise).
Everyone loves panda bears. They roll around. They are fluffy. They are endangered. They are "cute." Yeah. Fuck panda bears. They are nature's biggest frauds. This is not just a part of my greater campaign against cuteness, either.
What prompted me to write this was when, as I was leaving D.C., some panda was born somewhere and there was a big media bozo circus as to what it would be named. Fuck that. I'm all for positive, uplifting news, but in the grand scheme of things, Natalie Holloway is more pressing news than this. And you know how I feel about Natalie Holloway. Seriously though, this was on all the major networks. And then they ended up naming it something in Chinese, so what the hell? No one even knows what it means. It could mean "brand new dishwasher with speed dry" in Chinese, but it would make no difference. The media would just say "Oh, that's a pretty name... NOW LOOK HOW CUTE SHE IS! Awwww...!"
Not only that, but pandas are fucking stupid. They won't even reproduce. Pandas are notorious for being as chaste as the Shakers, and look how they turned out. If pandas are too dumb to start spitting some "mad panda game" (as Lyle says) and park the beef bus in tuna town, they probably deserve to be extinct. People talk about how we're ruining nature? Well now we're artificially preserving a species that probably should have died out because they refuse to play hide the hot dog. So... what now, you PETA buttclowns? Go save some goats.
Along those same lines, here is exhibit B in why pandas have the intelligence quotient of a paper bag. Everyone thinks it's adorable seeing a panda munching on some bamboo, right? Pandas aren't even biologically suited to bamboo. They're built to be carnivores, so what the hell? According to children's site GLOBIO.org, much of what a panda eats "becomes poop," instead of actually sustaining the fat piece of shit. As a result, pandas have to spend 10-12 hours each day eating, because bamboo lacks the nutrients they need (this according to a University of Michigan site). So... instead of eating normal things that prevent them from dying of malnutrition, they choose to laze around and eat bamboo, of whose nutrients pandas only use 17% (from the same UMich site). And they are still fatasses! So... pandas... first, they won't dance the mattress jig, and second, the furry little dipshits defy their biology and thumb their cute little noses at everything except bamboo, which doesn't even give them the nutrients they need.
So what do pandas contribute to the grand scheme of things? Increased ticket sales at zoos? Cute tumbling? Fatness? Yeah. Nothing. They are frauds. The only reason people pay attention to them is because they are so dumb they've abstinence-d themselves onto the endangered list. BEFORE HUMAN BEINGS, THINGS THAT DIDN'T FUCK DIED OUT. Until we find out that panda piss cures cancer or something, I say we let them take their chances.
