Thoughts.

Thinking about it, I imagine there’s gotta be some fundamental difference in the way people perceive and play the game that makes some people decidedly D players and some decidedly O (beyond factors such as “well, he’s got throws, but can’t play defense worth a lick. o-line it is!”).

And I think I might have something. Well, maybe. I figure, the fundamental difference lies in how one thought processes playing the game–generally speaking, your D-types are better/more inclined to be reactionary players, while your O-types are more…manipulative? subversive?

Whoops, my D player is showing. But seriously. When I’m playing, I’m aware of a few possibilities that might happen/things to look out for (such as helping when last back), but largely I’m simply reacting to what’s happening. That makes intuitive sense, of course–it carries over to when I’m playing O to an extent, though, in that I’m usually looking and reacting to what’s happening (which is why I tend to better with continuation cutting than initial cutting–opportunity cuts, and setting up for them, comes more naturally to me), rather than “creating” offense so to speak. When I go to cut I’m usually cutting to a point to see what my defender gives me, and then I’ll take it, rather than thinking where I’d be the biggest threat and setting my cut up to get there–I often find myself cutting from the back, faced with a halway decent face mark, and starting a deep cut from 25+yards away from the disc–not ideal at all.

I figure effective O-line players (at least, a good portion of them) tend to be more ‘in control’ of their games so to speak, knowing what needs to be done and doing it.

I feel like this is really well embodied by the stack of inaction. A combination of factors–defensive positioning, disc position, timing–and a lack of anybody willing to just bite the bullet and try and make something happen leads to a bunch of players standing in the stack waiting for somebody to cut off of. This also has a cousin, the stack of one mind, where several people all make the same cut simultaneously, reducing the effectiveness had just one cut (you see this often with the break-side continuation cut off a dump).

Anyways, I doubt very seriously people are locked in to one style of play or the other, though I suspect some are more inclined towards one, with the reactionary mindset being easier and more common.

It ties into why I think Offense is more highly valued than defense, and what all that VORP stuff is getting at–any decent athlete can run around and chase a disc with a bit of positioning, but it takes a lot more practice to develop one’s throws and cutting and field sense and all that jazz that makes for an effective offense.

Took yesterday easy, and got in a weightless workout again today. Pretty much the same as Monday’s workout so I won’t bother retyping it, though I did replace handstand pushups (too hard to do several before burning out) with a modified version of an elevated pushup. Basically just tried my best to put as much weight on my hands as I could…needs some tweaking, but it’s got potential. Upper body lifting session tomorrow…it’s supposed to be above freezing, too, so I’m considering giving running another try tomorrow, see how the ankle responds.

Been thinking on the topic a bit lately.

A few things. I think intensity is one of the main factors separating the contenders from the pretenders, and the ability to play intense and maintain intensity is key to having success at a tournament (or really, any sort of high-level athletic competition).

I also think that a lot of people mistake intensity as being really “into” what you’re doing, frothing at the mouth, a win-at-all-costs sort of mentality. That’s not the right mentality, I don’t think.

Put simply, intensity is being extremely focused, blocking out any and all extraneous factors and focusing fully on one’s play.

I don’t think it’s something that comes naturally; the natural urge is either to be carefree (in low-level play) or to be anxious/overwhelmed (in high-level/important games). Intensity is something that is practiced, something you learn, and only then does it come “naturally.” It takes a strong motivating force to be intense. If you don’t care about the result, if you’re not fully invested in the consequences of your actions, then you will be unable to convince your body to push itself to its uppermost bounds and you will underperform.

I know I’m not the only one who’s gone to a practice or started the first game of a tournament with my mind elsewhere–the last class I was at, how tired I am, whatever happened at last night’s party–and that, coupled with a lack of devoting time to refocus on ultimate (maybe you missed warm-ups, or the team arrived late and didn’t have time to run endzone drill for more than a couple touches per person) leads to a completely, utterly flat first point. If you survive long enough maybe you’ll come out of it and start playing for serious mid-point; other times you’ll set up on the wrong side and give up an easy break huck for the goal, or make a drop on a routine catch 10 yards from your endzone and give up the quick score. Then you come out for a point, whip your ass into gear, and get your a-game going. Maybe it still takes a while longer. Maybe you’ve just planted the seeds of doubt that have you playing tentative all day.

Or maybe you’re just playing in your summer league, pickup with some buddies, whatever–and you just play abysmally. Your throws all go to shit, you’re making crap cuts, whatever. It’s a lack of focus.

I think a lot of people pair intensity and focus, in the sense that, they need to have that fire churning and (perhaps) their more unrelenting, assholish qualities expressed in order to sufficiently focus on their play (there’s always at least one on every team; some keep it in check better than others). I usually try and keep the fire and the focus as separate entities (though not wholly separate). Most people who know me know I’m not overly emotional, I’m very analytical, I like to keep things in perspective as much as I can.

I’ve found, though, that usually when I’m playing at my best it’s because I let go of that more laid-back mentality and fully invest myself in what I’m doing. I came to the revelation that I needed to amp up my intensity probably mid-late winter last year, when we were playing on the turf fields and Watson was just playing out of his mind, laying out for this and that, really busting ass. I took great offense at the fact that I was getting out-bid by him (the bid was pretty much my domain on the B-team last year) and I came to realize that while I was running around, keeping warm, and touching the disc every now and then, mostly just tossing on the sidelines, Watson was sprinting, making the most of every chance he had to push himself and get better on the field, even if it was a 3v3, relatively low-key practice (we were all freezing).

So it was that my number one goal for the spring became to play with more intensity. It came a little over spring break, but I don’t have any particularly strong recollections of good, strong intensity over the course of the week and a half (the focus was fun, especially for the b-team, after all), but I distinctly remember the breakthrough, playing at Burple Valley that spring.

We had a couple (dare I say it, even a few) close games that weekend. We were throwing our better players out about as often as they could take it; I wound up playing 80-90% of the points out of necessity, being one of a few ‘quality’ handlers (read: consistent flick) and a bit of ego, not wanting to come out after giving up a point or when the score was close, and only subbing out for a point when I did sit.

Those were some great games. I think we wound up going 2-1 or 2-2 that day (I forget if it was a one-day, party that night tournament, or perhaps the Sunday games weren’t notable), winning our games on universe point or something very close to it. Anyways, I was really, really happy with how I played. Fully invested in the game when it was happening, really letting it all out, especially on defense (offense got to be frustrating when I was stuck making handler cuts when I wanted to be burning my man deep–but alas, we often lacked the depth on a line to run a consistent deep game). That was really my breakthrough; after that, I’ve never felt disappointed with my intensity level at tournaments (practices can vary widely).

I think it’s really important as a leader, or really for anybody on a team, that you’re able to play intense, inspired ultimate. Not necessarily being rageful, but intense enough that it shows. Intense enough that everybody knows you’re not about to let the other team beat you on anything other than your own terms. If you can carry yourself with that sort of intensity, have that level of confidence, teammates will definitely see it and feed off of it. If you let your play sag, if you’re tentative, unsure, noncommittal, your teammates will see that too. Morale is an amazing thing–keep a positive attitude, always.

I read Buster Olney’s Last Night of the Yankee Dynasty not too long ago, and one of the things he pointed to as a contributing factor to their world title run in the late ’90s was their unwavering confidence (exemplified by none other than pretty-boy, how-the-hell-did-you-win-another-gold-glove Jeter), the feeling that, even if the opposing team was ahead, invariably they would make their comeback. They never gave in, and they expected nothing less than victory. Expectations of such great magnitude have their own ramifications, but such a mentality has its place.

I think it’s a great mental framework to work with. I did my best to keep up this mentality (and do my best to inspire it in others) at Brown, and I think it worked great. Particularly in the UMass game, it would’ve been very easy to roll over, down 9-4. But we stuck to our guns. We came back to force universe point, and after we’d gotten our first break I knew we could win it. That was simply how it had to be; once we got fired up and took the impetus off ourselves–we’d nothing to lose, coming from behind; it’s all on them to make their plays, to shut us down, to put us away–once we made a crack in that dam, the doubt began seeping through, and it eventually came crashing down. Even though we lost it on universe point, we’d gotten the turn and gotten the disc within 10 yards of their zone–we both know they lucked out, escaping by the skin of their teeth. An all-around great game.

There’s no doubt in my mind that Dartmouth is capable of taking the region. I’m sure the other teams will be working hard, but I just look at the team, and at the talent of the players we have, and I know we’ve only scratched the surface of our full potential. We’ve got to bust ass and train diligently to get there, but that mountain isn’t too big. We’ve got the gear, put it to use the right way and we’ll work our way to the top in no time. I’m excited.

Been thinking a bit about Ateam/Bteam split, qualities that make a good team, etc, and I got wondering: what makes for an ideal player? I’m not talking just skill set–obviously a player with a flick will be a bit more useful than one without–but the more intangible things.

Things like coachability. I think this is probably the most important trait in a player if you’re looking to have a strong team. Everybody needs to be able to listen, to internalize, and then apply the team’s system in order for it to be successful, but, particularly at the college level, you need to be very open-minded about your abilities and about trying new things. Because transmission of knowledge really is so poor from veterans to rookies (subject for a later post), the better you can learn from the higher-ups the faster you’ll improve; this means being able to learn through observation more often than not, but it also means knowing how to ask the right questions to pick somebody’s brain. You often won’t get great advice with a blunt question like “how do you handle?” but if you were to ask a more targeted question–”when do you usually look dump?”(poor example, I know)–you can piece things together.

What else makes a good player? Motivation is a big one, motivation to train and work hard and generally to play and get better. Along with this comes training smart, not blindly running yourself into the ground.

The ability to self-evaluate is huge too, again because of a general lack of coaching. You can’t have somebody always watching you to see how you’re progressing, so you really need to take it upon yourself to evaluate what kind of player you are, what kind of player you want to be, and to work at reaching that ideal. This is nothing unique to ultimate–it applies to all of life, really–and it’s just as important as a player as it is as a person.

Along those lines, the ability to make adjustments; some days you’re just not going to have your throws where you want, or your timing will be off on cuts, whatever. It’s imperative that these changes are addressed and accounted for to ensure continued success.

This ties in to makeup, which is of great importance. Like in any sport, you’re going to get beat. Particularly on D-line, you’ll never be able to take everything away, and it’s certainly tempting to get caught up in the mistakes–even if it’s not entirely your fault, the tendancy for most people (I think) is to focus on the negatives, think “man, I shouldn’t've gotten beat on that cut” or “I should’ve gotten that sky” or “I should’ve caught that,” and its a vicious cycle of sorts in that shifting your focus from the present game to the past plays makes you more likely to play worse, leading to more turns/missed D’s and an inability to reach full potential. It’s really hard, but being able to put mistakes behind you and continue to play the way you always do is crucial to keeping one’s standard of play up and long-term success in general.

It’s the sort of mentality baseball players develop, where it’s always necessary to keep the 0-for-4s from getting you down and the 5-for-5s from getting you too big-headed, because success and failure come and go. It’s being able to maintain a zen-like indifference to your past while focusing on the present that leads to long-term success as the stats accumulate over the course of the season, and that sort of mentality translates really well to a point-by-point sport like ultimate. Each point is its own, separate entity; draw upon the past to better deal with the present, but forget about what’s happened and focus on the moment at hand while it’s happening.