NE Mixed Regionals (Part 2)
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Loading ...Continuing from the last post:
Enough Monkeys (4): Story of the tournament (or at least, my favorite story of the tournament). Hailing from Hanover, my second home, the Monkeys are probably the chillest team in ultimate. On the strength of their practice style–no drills, just scrimmage–and their strategy–zone, zone, and, if that doesn’t work, more zone (but sometimes man)–they are perhaps one of the best examples of chemistry over ability. Not to say that they’re incapable in the slightest, as they have a number of very talented players, but more emphasis is placed on team function than any individual (they don’t, for instance, do track workouts), and their way can carry them pretty far in the right (windy) conditions.
In both their backdoor victory on universe over Puppet (which ended on a ridiculous hammer channeling shades of Kershner’s ‘zona over Dartmouth at natties ’08) and loss to Bashing in the finals, the contrast between the “serious” team scoring–hooting and hollering, people rushing the field–and the Monkeys scoring–no celebration or noise of any kind, to the point where I’d wonder if there was a call on the throw–tickled me to no end. “We don’t have the legs to celebrate,” answered a Monkeys player when pressed on the matter, and with something just over a dozen players, it’s certainly understandable. Had the Monkeys made it all the way, it’s a fair bet to say they would’ve declined the bid, opting for home over purchasing actual jerseys and shelling out for the trip just to play more of the same intense teams they met on Sunday. Kudos to them for knowing what they want and keeping it fun.
Puppet Regime (5): Similar to Quiet, Puppet is a study in inconsistency*. Coming in as the #4 seed, they got hosed bychum 15-8, forcing them to battle through the backdoor all of Saturday (ending with a meeting with us, where our shot at nationals ended). We had our chances early in the game against them, as Puppet was in low spirits, undoubtedly from their long day. As the first half progressed they started to get their heads back in it, however, and despite our halftime resolution to step up our level of play, it was our spirits which flagged while theirs went to full sail.
*As an aside, I love playing against teams like this. Every game is a psychological study in human emotion; with the right (wrong) plays–a bonked catch, their offense getting broken twice in a row–the plummet of spirits is palpable, and similarly, you can feel it when a big play gets them fired up. My advice when playing suck teams: never let them beat you deep, always keep your own offense simple and easy. You never want to give heady teams cause to get worked up. You especially never want to let tempers flare, as a douchebag on the other team can be just the foe to rally around they need. (These comments aren’t geared specifically to Puppet or our game against them, just based off of my experience playing on/against teams in a similar mold).This game proved a little frustrating for me on a couple levels. After having cramped up earlier in the day late in our game against Quiet Coyote, I had finally gotten myself working well enough to hop in against Puppet (with our backdoor victory over Monster coming in between). I played decently, but was a bit out of sync gelling with the team offense; though I’d been working hard on getting my cutting back into gear, I’d forgotten a lot about being a good continuation cutter, something I failed to realize until we got a gentle reminder from our captains at halftime.
Of course, I didn’t get a chance to put that adjustment into effect, or to do anything with my play in the second half; at the end of the first half I got obliterated in a collision–the dreaded “cut of death” where an upline dump cutter is led with a throw far enough where a poaching defender is in the way but unseen.
I was the poaching defender. For those of you who haven’t met me, I’m about 5’8″, 135lbs. I was moving in from a fairly static position; he was barreling upline at full speed. You don’t have to be Alex Crew, Physics PhD candidate, to see that in a battle of momentum, I’m not going to win.
I remember taking the hit (despite trying to dodge it at the last second), letting out an audible howl with the impact, and then being face-down on the ground wondering if my shoulder was dislocated as people gathered ’round and asked if I was OK*.
I made a tentative bit of motion at the shoulder, confirmed it was still attached, got up and was helped off to pity applause–realizing as I limped away that my knee had somehow gotten destroyed in the hit as well, hence the bursits I’m still recovering from.
By the way,he caught the disc in the endzone to take half, coming away (relatively) unscathed.
*As another aside, I reaaaaally hate it when people circle ’round after an injury. For one, crowding the injured does nothing to make them feel better. For two, if you’re on the field, you’re supposed to hold your position. For three, when I get hurt the last thing I want is people crowding around me and especially not applauding as I get helped off. I know I’m not the only one who detests “pity applause.” Lay off crowding unless you’re directly responsible for the person (I’m talking best friend, significant other, or family), team leadership, or somebody qualified to actually help and planning to do so–otherwise, you’re just another rubbernecker backing up traffic.
I spent the second half battling frustration with/taking care of my body–I wanted nothing more than to hop in there and get my team back into it with some hard running and tough play, to build upon my first-half frustrations with some second-half sizzle. I lead by example, and having my capability to set one sidelined left me feeling fairly powerless for the rest of the weekend. I obviously need to work on separating my involvement in the game from my involvement in the play.
Saturday’s play ended on a fairly dour note. Our contention chances ended with a whimper, not a bang, and we all knew it as we scattered, to return for placement play on Sunday. Despite Saturday’s finish, a bunch of us got together for dinner and had a swell evening–myself, along with Sully, LeeAnn, and Alex Crew, the Duke of Physics himself, retreated to his private domain in Acton after dinner for a viewing of the Castle–which looked remarkably similar to Wall-E–and returned to the fields Sunday morning musing about the similarities of beating red lights to good handler motion and hetero physical challenges.
RIP (6) and Mogwai (7): I refer you to my sectionals writeup for Mogwai impressions, which remain relatively unchanged. For Rip, I didn’t see them play much but did not hear good things about their spirit (I may be making this up, but I seem to recall there being observers at one of their games–and we’re talking backdoor/placement, not game-to-go).
Ballometrics (8): After a well-fought victory against Chum and a joke of a loss in a wind-dominated, adjacent-field finals-distracted 7th place game against Mogwai on Sunday, we sent out our season the only way any season should–with an impromptu dance party. A bit of contradance-style two lines, some can-canning, and a very happy 17th birthday for Michela (and a special present for Adrian that warmed all of our hearts), and you didn’t even have to ask us to let you see our Ballometrics.
We came, we saw, we balled.
