#uk ultimate

[yourultimatedump]

Don't worry guise, I got into DUFFA Hat. My disc is safe!

[yourultimatedump]

If I don't get into DUFFA, I am going to eat my disc in a pit of depression.

[yourultimatedump]

The Story(ish): Mixed Tour 1

A quick disclaimer as to why this is an ‘ish’ story... Tour was the messiest and most baffling tournament I have ever attended. I’ve never been so emotionally detached from a frisbee event, and it was pretty unnerving for me; so much so, that I didn’t even write down any of the scores. All I know is we lost all but one of our games... So here’s what I’m going to write today: the lead-up to Tour, the conditions once we got there (ugh), and then a vague description of what the games were like. Then I’ll get onto the exciting bit: my first experience of Spirit of the Game in play for real. Eep!

So, I didn’t actually sign up for Mixed Tour 1, only 2 and 3. This was mainly because I didn’t think I’d have time because it’s my deadline period right now; the other just because I wanted to save my money for frisbee events over the empty space that is easter and summer break. But alas, a bunch of girls dropped out of the second team, and Reading asked me if I could pick up. Once offered a discount price, I couldn’t really turn it down. I scrambled to get my work finished, packed a bag, and headed to Reading to then drive to Cardiff on Friday night.  It was the usual scout hut set-up, except with way more people than before, because of outdoor sized teams. A bunch of board games and card games kept us occupied for a few hours before settling in... I’d managed to bag the corner with a socket and a radiator: luxury living! Woken up at 7.30am, however - by Matt throwing discs at me - I realised my special corner wasn’t enough to prepare me for the horror that awaited us once on the field...

It was Wales. Already, the weather was going to be horrendous. But it was also a storm... But not just any storm! A Welsh storm. The torrential rain was coming down in sheets, and pretty much sideways from the wind. Discs could barely go more than a few feet before flipping vertical and rolling around on the grass. I say grass, though; it was mud. Pure, sticky, gets-a-hold-of-and-doesn’t-let-go-of-your-shoes mud. And puddles. Puddles deep enough to lap over your shoes if you stand still in them. No coat, blanket, tent, or brick wall was enough to protect you from this weather. But, of course, we’re frisbee players; if we want to play, then we play. Alas, I didn’t really want to play, but having gone that far and to not take part would have been ridiculous, so we all slapped smiles on our frozen faces and got on with it.

And then I got injured. Typical. I have this thing that only occurs outdoors, but it hasn’t happened since last year, so I figured I was safe... But basically, my knee joint feels too weak/ loose to handle the weight of my calf and shin. It feels like my leg is hanging off, and everything is just pulling apart. The pain is excruciating, and enough to take me out for an entire tournament. Unfortunately, four of our six girls were injured, so not playing wan’t an option. I spent the hour-long games choking back tears and trying not to scream as I made one unsuccessful cut after another. D was better, despite running in the cup so much, but at least I knew where I should be running, and it was enough to mildly distracts me from what felt like fire in my leg. My team did well, though, considering the circumstances. We had way too many guys, but they all put as much as they could into it in order to work through the wind and rain. The cutting was off for most of the first day, but by our fourth game, it started to come together a little more. Some amazing Ds, and some hucks cut through the wind amazingly. Unfortunately our oppositions were able to work through the weather conditions better than us and often broke down our D with quick passes. It was bloody exhausting, and I knew by the end of the first day that I was so not okay with playing three more games on the second.

We were well aware the weather was going to be worse on the second day thanks to the forecast, but it was worse than I could have imagined. Arriving at the venue, all I could think was ‘the end is nigh’... Honestly. It just plain wasn’t safe. Just walking on those pitches would have meant slipping over in the mud, or being knocked over by the wind. What would have been more of a concern for those in charge of the venue would be the state in which we would leave what was left of the pitches. They’d have spent thousands repairing what we tore up after just one game, let alone the four or so that would take place on each pitch. Arriving, everyone was in denial. Though in kit, no one was in boots. No one was throwing a disc or warming up; if they were, they were doing stretches indoors. Some were putting anoraks on underneath their kit tops, and others were just sitting in their hoodies drinking tea from paper cups, hoping they’d never have to step outside. And then the GB teams start warming up. Pitch discs are put out. Some unlucky souls are changing into studs. My heart dropped to my stomach when I realised the day was going to continue. Reading 1 were up against GB Under 23s first, and my team mate counted one successful pass out of six... Oh heck. 

Then the spirit started. As soon as our captain arrived, he asked us whether or not we wanted to play and - if we did - under what circumstances. We had a conversation as a team, confirming that we did want to play (mainly just to say that we tried) but that we either wanted to shorten the game or lower the cap. Matt - the cap’n - went to our opposition and suggested a hardened cap lowered from 15 or 7, to which they agreed. Matt also informed them of the issue we had with injured ladies, and asked how they felt about us promising a line of at least 2 girls instead of the 3. The angels they were, they said they were fine with it, and that they’d simply put on as many as they wanted, and we didn’t need to match.

Now think about it... Had we had to do this through a referee, would that have happened? Probably not. This is it. This is spirit. This is why Ultimate is so special. We were able to treat one another as groups of humans instead of teams of players, and make an informed and empathetic agreement betweens us so that we could enjoy the event as much as we could. That game - despite it hardly looking like a game, considering how often the disc was on the ground - was the most fun, well-spirited of the weekend. Flump were having a wild time out there, joking and laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation, and it spread. Despite wanting to cry from pain and cold and discomfort, it was just another reminder of why this community is my favourite in the world; why this sport is something I just can’t seem to give up. Anyways, we won 8-3. We had a quick chat after the call and decided between us that we’d play our other games if our opposition wanted to, but only if they’d allow fewer girls on the pitch: I was out for the weekend.

Inside, I found the captain of our next opposition talking to my team mate about the sign that had been put up downstairs. It basically consisted of:

‘Due to the weather, we recommend that you cancel your games for the remainder of the day. We cannot force you to do so, although we ask you to agree to any changes in rules or play that you wish to put in place with the captains of your opposition.’

They didn’t want to play, of which we were grateful. However - from what I gathered from my team mates - once Matt told them that we weren’t keen either because of our girls situation, they were suddenly cool with playing. They said they’d play, but only if we put three girls on for every point; which would mean our remaining girls who felt capable would be iron-manning it. This was too much to ask, and they knew it; I think they were trying to get us to concede. Nonsense, considering we were about to agree on a forfeit when they originally approached us. Any excuse, I suppose. Spirit, eh?  Anyways, we landed on a forfeit in the end, same as with our third game of the day. The turmoil was over after one measly - though horrible - game, and we were able to shower and just chill until Reading met GB for the final.

They won. Against GB. They won Mixed Tour 1. Reading. Reading Ultimate. RU won. They won Tour. Against 2 GB teams. Reading. That was Reading that did that. They won the thing. The Tour thing. Against GB. Reading beat GB twice. Twice to win Tour 1. WHATATATATT.

(We went up by 2 seeds. Not so bad, right?)

Yeah, so that happened. But the thing I couldn’t stop thinking about the most was the spirit. Finally I was seeing it in play; not just as a call on pitch, or a speech after the game, or a fun game of ninja. No, it was a real thing where we had to control the outcome of a tournament. It was in our power, and it was our responsibility to do it properly. Other teams were having the same conversations, and it was all so well done. GB played a game of Roshambo to see who won their forfeited game; we had an end score of 2.5-2.5 with our final opposition. It was funny and it was classy and it was overall fair in its outcome, and it gave me so much more respect for the people I share this sport with. the consideration and inclusion of all involved was right on the surface, and I couldn’t help but feel proud for choosing this sport over all the others. Thank you Ultimate community for reminding me why human beings aren’t all bad.

[yourultimatedump]

The Story: Baby ITZ Cold Outside

Fly Hard attended their first ever beach tournament on the weekend just passed, and I have only just gathered the strength to write about it. To say that winter beach Ultimate is tough would be the understatement of the century! Alas, I am incredibly proud of the team - considering I was the only one who'd played on sand before - and it brings me joy to share the results of the day. So, here's the story.

Ben and Grace came down to Poole late the night before to sleep over, and everyone else drove down from Winchester the morning of the tournament. Having given strict instructions to bring layers and socks, I was hoping they'd be prepared... They weren't. I was well aware of the dreadful conditions in which we'd be playing, and how much they'd hinder our skill, but the others were still living in the illusion that it wouldn't be that different, or that cold, or that hard. It was.

Our first game was at 9.30, and against Devon. When the horn went off, they only had 3 men on the line. In honesty, this was the only way we felt like the teams were even! Unfortunately by the time we'd done the toss and had made our plan for the first point, a stream of green and white came flying on to the sand, and they had a squad of ten strong and capable blokes to take us on. Oh heck. They destroyed us. They hit the cap, and bagelled us into oblivion. A score of 11-0 was certainly a way to make everyone a little apprehensive and negative about the rest of the day. I was personally hoping that - as a non-GB team who didn't live near the coast - it would be our closest game. Considering the score, I became a little worried too: If this game was THAT hard, the others are going to be so much worse, right!?

Wrong. We woke up a little, practised throwing into the wind, had a team talk about how to deal with the hindrances we were experiencing, and came back onto the line with clear minds. Our next game was giving us nervous feels, though: GB Women. GAH! They had a handful of plays with which they were very comfortable, could get a disc through a pretty hearty gust of wind, and had far superior stamina and strength. Luckily, however, we had some height on them, and were able to get a lot of quick passes out, working our way around their very strong D. In the end, it came to a draw on the horn, and then they just got that last point up against us, leaving the score at 6-5 to them. We were incredibly proud, though, and we definitely needed that confidence boost for the next game.

GB Masters. I swear to the heavens, I felt like I needed a nappy when I saw these guys warming up before the game. They were just... Awesome? Like, the type of players that you only see in the YouTube videos. I was so thrilled to see such skill and strength in the sport I love so much, but I was also terrified to know that I had to come up against it. Alas, Fly Hard already knew this was going to be tough, so we just went in with the same outlook: Just don't get bagelled. And we didn't! After a ruthless and gruelling - yet inspiring and fantastic - twenty minutes, the score was at 11-1, and I wanted to jump for joy. I couldn't help but fangirl a little in the post-game speech. Seeing such speed, spirit, and a shared self-assured demeanour on the same pitch as you is just so inspiring and exciting. They were so kind about their superiority, and paid us our dues in not giving up. We worked our asses off, and they respected us for that, in the same way we respected them for their talent. An incredible experience, and I hope to come across them again in the future.

Straight after this game was In The Zone, the team with which I train out of term time. As knackered as we were, we had to come into this game with guns blazing in order to take the win. Although more experienced on sand, and with some really strong players on their line, they were close to us in terms of ability, and we knew there was a chance we could take them. They came onto the pitch far too confidently, and we held our own. Some incredible D from both parts broke down shaky offence play - only shaky due to the wind - and made the points long and trying. The scoreline stayed reasonably close for the entire game, and their frustration was felt: Why weren't they smashing us? Because we were ready! Alas, it came to a draw, and they got the final point in the end, leaving the score 5-4. Pants! We should have had that.

A lunch break consisting of coffee, warmth, and arm chairs inside the cafe later, and we were back into the winter winds... Which had definitely picked up in our absence! The sun had been covered by thick cloud, which threatened rain, and even the strongest of throws could not cut through the gusts of wind that sent sand into us, stinging our skin. Uh-oh. Not ideal for a re-match with GB Women!

Alas, we had no choice. Onto the pitch, and we realised we'd fallen asleep during our break. They got a few points up, but some pep talks and re-evaluation of play later, and we started pulling it back. Turnover after turnover from the wind, and people falling into holes in the sand, and exhaustion was felt. Both sides were struggling for energy and willpower to keep going, but the game remained intense throughout. Once again, we were drawn on the buzzer... But this time, we took the lead! Fly Hard's first win, and against GB Women - incredible scenes, Jeff! With a score of 7-6, we held our heads high and went straight into a game against Heat, the Bournemouth university team.

Another team I have trained with before, I was aware that most of their players had very little experience in Ultimate. Not only did I not recognise them, but it showed in their movements and shaky throws. We tried to use this against them as much as possible, and it worked quite a lot. The points were the longest we had experienced yet - what with the shared unfamiliarity of throwing in high winds on sand - and I felt like my lungs had collapsed, my feet were made of ice, and my arms had lead sleeves. My willpower was dwindling, but this was one we could win! Some riskier options caused for more turnovers than necessary, and poor cutting meant higher stall counts. Consistent communication and some 'lay-outs' gave Heat the advantage, however, and they beat us in yet another tie-breaker, 4-3. It should have been ours, but we had no time to mourn: Our last game had already begun.

I commend our men who went straight into the game against In The Zone 2 after Heat: They are the bravest of us all... I was not one of them. I collapsed on the prom.  Anyway! I already knew that the team wasn't particularly strong, and a little birdie informed me they'd only scored one point after four games: It was promising. With what little energy and muscle we had left, we managed to cram 5 points in against their single point - a lay-out by Gary, which was spectacular - and decided to ignore the cap, and call it a day. The game wasn't particularly exciting: Just some more painfully long points, disappointing turnovers, and throws unable to come out in the wind. The same story, but a different opposition. 

Two wins was about as much as I could hope for considering my team had never played on beach before, and the standard of teams who had made their way to Sandbanks for the event. I was incredibly proud of their willingness to learn to play a new form of Ultimate, and their dedication to each game. Despite the elements working against us, their pain in their joints, and the sand in their shorts, they pushed through and made Fly Hard look good. I thank them from the bottom of my heart for taking part with me, and heartily invite them back in the summer for Round 2: Sunburn, the qualifier beach nationals. 

A team photo to follow. 

[yourultimatedump]

Cheeky article in our local newspaper about the beach tournament I attended with Fly Hard this weekend, going up against a tough pool, including four GB teams. It makes me so happy to see the community recognising and appreciating what we do! Absolutely chuffed.

[yourultimatedump]

The Story: Iron Fives

This is the most nervous I have ever been for a tournament since my first over two years ago. Iron Fives, for those of you who don’t know, is not for the faint-hearted: There are no subs allowed. In another sport, this may not seem like a big deal, but for anyone who plays Ultimate, it is clear why 20 minutes of non-stop play is so tough. These kinds of tournaments usually attract the more experienced players; they’re stronger, faster, more skilled, and usually male. As a timid, solid-medium, now slightly unfit (thanks to university) female, it was surprising I accepted the invitation.

As mentioned in the caption of the team photo I posted a few weeks ago, Fly Hard was founded by Nick Trafford, with the help of his girlfriend, Holly. He graduated at the end of my first year, and I have only seen him since when he returned to Winchester for his graduation, and then for Winton - the sports event held at the university, where the alumni return to play the beginners, and then for a rad night at the Student Union. He has always been a huge support system for me, and has consistently cheered on me from the moment I joined the team, to now. He awarded me with Most Enthusiastic Female at the end of my first year, and has been keeping his fingers crossed for my rule as Women’s Captain for as long as I can remember. So when he asked me to play with him and his team back at home, Fifty Shades of Lay… Well, I just don’t say no, do I?

A few other members of Fly Hard were also going to be going with Wild Boards, which a member from the former founded in time for the same tournament last year. With this, I was able to hitch a ride with them down to Plymouth, which is about three hours away from Winchester… 5 adults in one tiny Ford was definitely a time to give up your vices about personal space! I was up at 7am in order to meet the others at 9am - Mark drove me, Chris and Matt down to Andover so that Jack could drive us from his house. I was cool with this detour because it means coffee and pooch cuddles at Jack’s (adorable) home.

The roadtrip was pretty good. Considering I love long car journeys, I was prepared for this 3-hour quest for the tournament, but Jack had a couple of good CDs, and introduced us to some roadtrip games to make it even better. We spent a vast majority of the journey playing ‘I’m Going on Holiday…’, which consists of someone - the rule-maker - telling us that they are going on holiday, and that they are bringing [object] with them. You then go around the circle and ask them if you can come with them and bring [object]. You have to guess what the rule is, based on what you are and aren’t allowed to bring. For example, objects with three-syllables, or corresponding to letters in names in the car. It passed the time, and was actually quite a laugh.

We got lost once we were in Ivybridge - where the tournament was hosted - and I started to get a little anxious. Even if we made it on time, I’d only have 15 minutes to get into kit, meet the team, and then get warmed up to play. But considering we didn’t have a darn clue where we were going, the tension rose. Alas, we made it. I ran to get into my kit and put my trainers on, and then met up with Nick, Oli (part of the foundation of Fly Hard), Andy, and Harry - who apparently I met before, but I’m not convinced. Holly did a good job of calming me down, and then Oli threw around with me a little… I was as ready as I’d ever be.

Our first game was a toughie, but Disc Fury (I think) were by no means more skilled than us; just a more ‘guns-blazing’ attitude, and better fitness. We managed to pull 4 points up, but against their 11, it was still pretty poor. Their zone was really tight, and crashing the middle was no easy task; once those overheads were up, they were Dd by the tall guy: No chance!  They were super nice guys, though! All alumni from Coventry, they were good friends and had nice energy. Thanks to the Stories call, two nicknames were gained for a member of each of our teams: Shit Pants, and Flaps. Please don’t ask.

I reflected after this game and, although I was struggling to keep up with these strong blokes, my lungs felt like they were on fire, my hands were shaking so much I could barely catch, and working through their zone was like fighting your way through a wall of crunchy peanut butter… It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. I was obviously relieved when it was over, and I obviously wanted to keel over and die, but it only took all of five minutes to regain my breath, and I was feeling just dandy! In fact, I could have walked straight back on pitch. This was a relief to say the least: It put me in a much clearer mindset in order to take on the rest of the weekend. No matter how many times the boys had told me how ‘brutal’ Iron Fives was on the way up, the truth was that it wasn’t, and the proof was in the first game of the day.

The thing is, regardless of how chilled and reassured I felt after the first game, nothing could prepare me for the next one against Thunder (Something), seeded second. I knew it was going to be tough, but OH MY GOODNESS WE DIED.  Nick put out the perfect - and I mean perfect - hammer to Andy from endzone to endzone in order to get us the first point of the match… We peaked too soon. 19 points from them later, they won. I mean, come on, 19-1… Really!? It was so embarrassing, even with the seeding in mind. It’s not nice to have to keep walking to your own endzone, but nineteen timeeees? Anyway, they were nice about it and we had a fun call, so the same dissipated a little bit after that. It also marked the end of the first day, so we were able to mourn our pride away from the venue and the Boars, in private.

Holly dropped Harry and Nick back to his house, and then we headed back to hers. She showed me to my - her sister’s - room, and let me have a shower. I then got dressed and we sat and chilled for an hour or so before Andy drove Nick and Harry over. We were meant to be going to Curry House, in order to keep to tradition, but they couldn’t fit 14 of us into the restaurant… Crazy, right? Alas, I went to get pizza with Holly and Harry whilst Nick and Andy got curry. We then drove our food over to Oli’s, where he was hosting the Boars, and we stuffed our faces. Yet ANOTHER game of ‘I’m Going on Holiday…’ and some seriously unpleasant conversation later, we were headed to the pub.

The pub was nice. The boys played pool, there was some banter, some nice conversation with people I hadn’t met before, and a lot of cider consumed. Holly and I demolished the chocolate we had bought earlier. Nick started talk of going out to town - we obviously didn’t go. Mark did some weird dance with Holly, and Nick threatened to floor him; therefore Matt did the Single Ladies dance, because seriously, Nick - put a ring on it! Anyways, it was nice. But bed was a welcomed thing.

I got up at 7.30am in order to get picked up by Andy and the boys at 8.15… We were so early, it made my teeth sting. Our first game was against Santa’s Little Helpers at 9.20, and my body was ready. I’m lying, it wasn’t. It was a little more even, but again, they ran. A lot. We just couldn’t get enough pressure on to keep those points at bay, and they were able to put out enough throws that were just out of D-ing reach. I don’t remember the score line, though I don’t think it was too embarrassing. There were some handsome blokes on the opposition, and that’s pretty much all I can remember from the game. Sorry guise.

Next up was PQT, but not for a couple of hours. I decided it was time for caffeine, and Harry needed breakfast, so we spent our break in the leisure centre cafe. My latte was top notch, and Harry’s scrambled eggs were under £3, so all was well. Oli watched Boars play, and Nick and Andy thought McDonald’s was a good idea… It wasn’t. When it came to the game, the only ones not feeling sick to their stomachs were the ones who didn’t eat - so basically, me and Oli. It was a tough game, and neither teams were pulling further ahead than a couple of points at a time. It was incredibly close for the duration of the game - if I remember correctly, it came down to a draw-breaker - and we managed to pull ahead to finish with 9-8 scoreline. Some good people (finally got to play some females) and a well-spirited game later, we had our first victory. HUZZAH!

Next up: Fliss and her Merry Men. Gosh, these team names just got more and more ridiculous. Another close game, but again, another fit team. No matter how good we were, they were faster doing the exact same things. Their hands were just a little safer, and their riskier discs were just coming off a little more accurately. With these simple things, they came out on top. It was a bit of a bummer after our win in the game before, but we still had one more game to round off the weekend; one last push, and then we could collapse.

It took me until halfway through the second day of the tournament to realise that a women’s team had entered Iron Fives… Pathetic, I know! Shake & Bake ladies were pretty damn fly, and one of their ranks was a GB Lady who is now my inspiration and giver of discgasms. I mean seriously, her hammers? HUBBA-HUBBA!  Anyways, it brought me such joy to see so many talented and passionate women taking on these men at such an intense event. If I needed an extra moral push to keep me going with the Fly Hard women’s team, they were it.  They ran us into the ground, pulled amazing defence, threw out some amazing overheads, and made some incredible grabs and bids for discs. We kept the lead by about 3 or 4 points throughout the entire game, however, and came out with scoreline that was something like 8-11… Victory!

The definitely didn’t make it easy, though. I felt like I’d just played that game in a damn sauna! Another bloke at the event had removed his top due to heat, and when I complained that it wouldn’t be socially acceptable to follow suit, one of the S&B ladies agreed to remove her top if I did too. So the call was done without clothes, and considering we were playing Sexy Pants, it was pretty fantastic. I won Sexiest Pants on Fifty Shades, and I was able to flirt with gals without it seeming out of place: A double-win for the last game of the day!

With our two wins, we maintained our seed of 18th, which is more than we could ask for, considering Fifty Shades lost all of their games last year. I was honoured to play with the boys, and was thrilled to keep up with the pace and intensity of the games. I finally got a couple of overhead assists, and a handful of regulars; I also got a good amount of points over the two days. My men definitely had to work to get the disc, and my pressure was there. The scorelines didn’t reflect the work that went into the tournament, and I am immensely proud of what Fifty Shades of Lay managed to pull out of those tough games.

The boys all left straight away because Andy and Harry had long journeys back, and work in the morning. Hugs and love later, I joined Boars - who finished 6th out of 24 - to watch the final between Flyght Club and a team that literally none of us had noticed for the entire tournament. It was incredible! The former’s D was so strong on the wall, that their opposition were stuck there for five minutes at a time. Not a single drop aside from next to the wall, perfectly clean throws, impeccable force and pressure in the zone, and come deception in intention gained Flyght Club the win. It was so exciting to see some really talented teams fight it out in such a tough form of Ultimate, and I definitely came away hoping that one day I’d find myself in such a game.

We stopped at the services in Exeter for food - there wasn’t enough in the world to fill us up - and then we made the rest of the journey to Andover. Again, more ‘I’m Going on Holiday…’ and top notch CDs from Jack for the majority of the trip, and then I stuck my earphones in for down time. I managed not to doze off before making it back to Jack’s and swapping to Mark’s car to finish the final leg of the journey. He dropped me at my door, I ate two bowls of cereal, and then crashed in my bed for a sleep I deserved.

I’m going to put up another post just about Iron Fives as an event, so I shan’t say too much more here, except thanks to those involved: To Mark and Jack for driving. To Chris and Matt for some serious laughs and cwtched up time in the back seat. To Holly and her lovely mother for allowing me to stay in their home - I am extremely grateful for your hospitality. To Luna for being the friendliest face at the tournament. To the teams who made us feel as though we were slowly dying, but taught us so much. And to Fifty Shades of Lay: Nick, Oli, Andy, and Harry - thank you boys, for allowing me to join you and represent the team. I was filled with pride to be up there on the line with you, and to wear your kit. I hope I was sufficient in my skills, and that you shan’t forget me next year; I promise I’ll be better! You were fantastic company, and it was a privilege to spend time with you. Thank you.

I’m not sure what the next tournament will be: Either Guildford this weekend, or Baby ITZ Cold Outside in January - a beach tournament. Either way, stay tuned for the next tournament story, and for some more posts specifically following up Skunks and Iron Fives!

[yourultimatedump]

The Story: Skunks Christmas

All right, so I probably don't have time to be writing this up at the moment - what with university deadlines making students feel like they're six feet under right now - but I'm just too excited to hold back any longer. I simply must share the story of Fly Hard at Skunks Christmas 2014.

Skunks always host their tournaments in Eastleigh, so it was a seriously easy journey for us in the morning: A 6am wake-up call to leave the house just after 7am, to meet everyone at uni just after 7.30am. Carly and Jack were our darling drivers - I went with Chris and Ross in Jack's car - and we made our way up to Fleming Park, stopping at Tesco for food on the way. A great deal of singing and banter later, we arrived with about half an hour before our first game: Boom Squad.

So, Boom Squad won the tournament last year. They also have two international players, and - combined - at least 70 years of experience. All male, all legs, all muscle... Needless to say, it was a tough start! We were ready to take on the challenge, though. Some throwing with each other and some friends from other teams later, we were on the line with our hands in the air. Jack caught us our solitary point in that game... Compared to their 13, it wasn't great. It was nicely spirited, though, and it could only get easier from then on! My ex-captain said I was 'bossing it', so my ego was still in tact as well.

A break of one game, and we were back on the pitch to take on Bohunks: A mixture of alumni pick-ups from Bath, Mohawks (Sussex), and Skunks (Southampton). Again, more strong blokes to take on, and another tough competition. We managed to pull up 4 points against them - one of which by yours truly - but it wasn't enough against their 8. Another loss for Fly Hard! It was a shame that this was the game during which my parents arrived, but they'd seen me lose before; nothing new, unfortunately.

We had a team talk then: One of our own asked if we were there to have fun or to win. Of course the answer was both, but she had a point in saying that we needed to take ourselves more seriously and push harder than we had been. Considering our next game was due to be a little more even - Skunks 3 - we raised our spirit, energy, and competitive attitudes, and came into this game with new mindsets. We were going to win!

And win, we did. 9-4. HECK YES! Celebrations, galore. The girls even mentioned how fast I was, which is always something deserving of a self-high five!  One more game to go now: The cross-over with Skunks 1 to find out who would be staying in the top seed, and who would be moving down. We had mixed feelings about the game... Of course we wanted to win it! We always do. And of course it would be an honour to stand up there in the top seed with the best players at the event... Then again, if we lose and move down into the bottom seed, we will be up against more even matches - thus more fun games - and we have a good shot at the plate! Being at the top of the seed certainly isn't a loss.

Alas, even with these mixed feelings, we entered that game fighting, and definitely didn't make their win easy. I recall the score being something like 11-6: We weren't trounced, but the better team won. We dropped to the bottom seed, but we now had our eyes on the prize: 9th place for the blessed plate. YES THEN!

By this point, it was around 2pm, and we were starving: Nando's. We filled our faces with chicken and carbs, and then returned to the venue to watch some of our own compete with Wild Boars... Well, they did. I watched a Bournemouth v. Bournemouth game, which was just fantastic! After that, it was time to head home. 

It took a lot of convincing throughout the day, but I managed to get everyone to agree to a night out in Jesters for the tournament party. If you're not in the same region as us, then you probably won't know that Jesters has been voted the worst nightclub in the country... And rightly so. It's a basement that just so happens to have a bar and some loud music. The strobelights made me feel like I was going blind, I was unsure whether it was safe to touch anything, there was definitely mould on the floor, and I had to share a toilet cubicle with a complete stranger... It was amazing! One of the most fun nights. Even the Jesticle - a questionable drink - was great. We got to spend some time with people from other teams, and I even got to kiss the cutest guy at the tournament. SCORE!

We got home at about 2am to find that one of our own who hadn't made it was sick with stomach flu, and wouldn't be able to drive or play the following day. Shit. A panic attack, a few Facebook messages and some train time-searching later, I was in bed, ready to pass out until the following morning. I met Ross at the station and we made it with 20 minutes to change and throw about before our first game against Bournemouth 3.

A sore knee and hip was the last thing I needed for this game, but I gave it my all. Having played with Bournemouth in the past, I already knew how a lot of them moved, and I also knew that the spirit would be brilliant. It was evenly matched, and we were both fighting to cling to a spot at the top of the seed. We picked up a couple of our own from Wild Boars and pulled through, though, and won the deciding point after hitting a draw on the buzzer. It was a fantastic game with which to start the day.

Another challenging game up next, though: Charminster. Although not the best there, definitely better than us. Again, more strong and leggy men with fantastic overheads. Luckily our pick-ups helped us on the height front, and our recent practice of a dice zone in training came in handy. We pushed them into risky moves, and got enough Ds to keep their points at bay. Another draw, and then we managed it: One point up and a win for Fly Hard! We thought that this game would call the end of our journey to the Plate, but it didn't; the semi-final was complete, and we had a two-hour break until the final. ON IT!

Reading - our best friends - had lost their first game of the day, so we didn't get to play them. It was a real shame, but it meant our games fit together nicely and we got to hang out a little, and watch each other play. I witnessed the best game of Ultimate of my life: Reading v. Bournemouth 3. It started as a normal game, and then Phil got the idea of 9 v. 9. It basically became a game of catch from one endzone to the other. Ridiculous plays, and a lot of nonsensical decisions made. There was also a game of President halfway through, so when Parth forgot to put his fingers in his ear, the entirety of the Bournemouth team jumped over the wall separating the two pitches and crashed into the other game. Hilarious and wonderful: I love this community. I was itching to join in with it!

But now time to get down to business: The final. We were all feeling the pressure, to say the least. Lots of anxious faces and shaky hands. I tried not to over-think it, and reminded myself that it would just be a bonus if we left with the plate; that Bournemouth 2 deserved it just as much as we did, and no matter who won, the outcome would still be a fun and competitive game for all involved. We had our pick-ups from Boars and Reading (thanks again, philisntcool); Bournemouth got a little bit of help too. I had spoken to a few on the opposing team, and they all seemed to be as anxious and as excited as we were. It was time to do the thing.

I don't think I've personally been in a game so intense before; especially one so intense but spirited! Only fair calls were made, little to no interference from sideline observers - of which there were a lot - and not a single issue with rough play. The people I man-marked were smiley and open to 'conversation', and we high-fived those on the opposition who made a good move. Throughout the entire 30-minute game, no one pulled a lead more than 3 points, and not once did we know who was going to win. We both deserved it, and we both knew that. 

Another tie on the buzzer, and game continued; unfortunately I was subbed off, so I had to feel the tension, and not help my team. There were four turn-overs overall; risky overheads getting intercepted or missed. We were panicking and getting tense now. We just wanted it to be over.  Jack had the disc on our endzone line; the opposition had put up a wall. Moss was stalling him. A cheeky knife to Chris on the edge of the end zone. A question to Moss: 'We good?' Moss says, 'Yeah, you're in.' Chris says cool, drops the disc, and shakes his hand. We win. 

I hug Joe and do a small jig before going out to shake Bournemouth's hands. What a game of Ultimate we just played! Pride was surging through my nerves like electricity. I haven't won a game at a tournament in over a year, and here I am with my team: The plate winners. No one saw it coming, not even us; dark horses, the lot of us! We couldn't have done it without our pick-ups, so huge gratitude goes to them as well.

Celebratory post-game pep talks, maniacal hugging, food, and awards later, the tournament was over. We took some team photos, said goodbye to our friends until the next tournament, and then headed home. I missed drinks because I was so shattered from the weekend, but I didn't mind; I can still feel the excitement inside of me. I forgot the feeling that winning leaves in your stomach and the tips of your fingers. It makes you smile to yourself for days to come. It's wonderful.

Now I am looking forward to Iron Five with Fly Hard's founder this weekend. This is going to be so much harder, but as long as I give it as much as I gave Skunks - and then some - I will leave happy. Wish me luck!

[yourultimatedump]

I'm gonna do a big post about Skunks Christmas, like IMR, but I just wanna put this out there now... FLY HARD WON THE PLATE YAYAY