Birds of a Feather...

In each person’s life there are seemingly inconsequential moments, that alter the course of that person’s life and may ultimately serve as a precursor to who that person is. Depending on what side of the nature v. nurture argument you fall on, you may not agree that one’s character can be altered by these experiences but they can certainly alter the course of one’s life. Foremost, the relationships we have with people are what pushes us; knowing that we can alter the lives of loved ones, for better or for worse, is a significant driver in our lives. Those aforementioned moments often decide whose lives we affect and who affects ours.

One of those moments came for me during my sophomore year in college. I first started to play ultimate in high school, my friends and I would go down to the local park and play an extremely unorganized version of the sport. There was no out of bounds, no real end zones, and I’m pretty sure we never kept score. Nevertheless, it was an introduction. The next fall I went to college at CU and my RA mentioned he was thinking about getting a dorm team together. Not knowing what to expect, I said I would play with the disclaimer that I could not throw, but was pretty good at chasing the Frisbee down. It just so happened that our dorm fields were the same ones that the club team practiced on. Every day we would go out to “practice” and would see those guys throwing not only backhands, but forehands and sometimes even the unthinkable hammer. There were numerous times that I wanted to walk over to see what those guys were all about but intimidation got the best of me. Those guys were good and I was an intramural player with no semblance of throwing skill.

Well it turns out that our team was pretty good… well, relatively good. We had another guy in our hall that would eventually play a year on Mamabird along with me (the Burb, who needs no introduction). We took the intramural title and felt pretty good about ourselves. I had a lot of fun playing with those guys but I was always itching for just a little bit more. The next year, one of my high school buddies (who was a year younger than I) and I decided to go down to the field and throw for a bit. We were out there probably 30 minutes before a bunch of guys started showing up. Turns out the ultimate team was having their first practice of the season. Just before they went to run, a guy asked if we wanted to practice with them. I looked at my friend and we said, “Why not?”. Why not. I could have easily decided to go back to my apartment or continue throwing on a different part of the field, but the simple act of saying those two words in a questioning manner forced me to make an impulsive decision that would forever alter the course of my life. I guarantee I would have never had the courage to approach them on my own. The next 2 hours were truly a lesson in humility but I stuck it out and even came back the next day, and the next, and so on.

I was always a competitive person and tried my hand at a number of sports during my childhood. I was always good at some facet of each sport but never had all the necessary tools to succeed. I learned I was too small and shy to play football, my baseball career was highlighted by great defensive plays but I could not put bat to ball, I could rebound well in basketball but was a streaky shooter at best, and I was a flexible, gritty wrestler without any strength to speak of. In Ultimate, I found a sport that I loved and could excel at, but by far the greatest outcome has been the people with whom I have shared both triumph and defeat. Mamabird was a huge part of this and I know I would not be the same man without having worked and played with those men.

Last weekend, the newest installment of Mamabird (University of Colorado ultimate team) travelled to Columbus, OH to compete in College Nationals. That tournament also marked the first time since I began playing ultimate that I have not travelled to College Nationals. It was a gut-wrenching experience for me, partly because I felt like some invisible bond was broken by my absence. I was now relying on others to keep me updated. Mamabird made it to the finals, losing 15-11 to the same Carleton team that defeated Mamabird in my first year on the team, by the exact same score. Mac and Kibbles, who played with me in my last season on Bird (their first), saw their careers end with a finals appearance every other year, all losses. They should be proud, this year's team certainly made us alumni proud. I have been on teams that were decimated by the loss of multiple play makers, as they were before this year; it is not an easy thing to overcome but they certainly did. From all accounts they played hard and played with class and have left the program in good standing. My last two links to the team are gone, things have come full circle for me.

In the time since my first year on the team, Mamabird has made the semis 7 times, the finals 5 times, and has won 1 championship. I would have liked for that last number to be higher but can I really complain about the success that this program has had? I can't, because I know the culture of this team and I remember the hours worked and the tears shed in reaching for that crown. One night during my first year on the team, I was driving with a senior member of the team and I was overcome with emotion and very nervous at the thought of the impending tournament. "Why?" he asked. I replied that it was, "my only shot to win a championship." What a crazy thing for a freshman to say, I know. We did not win that year, and I wept. We didn't win the next year, and I wept. In fact, I wept every time my season ended, even the one time our season did not end in a loss. What I came to realize since making that statement is that it's not about having that medal around your neck; it's about the path and your relationship to the people that help you along that path.

-JA