Tully Beatty
In 2001 the WUFF Warriors defeated FBI from Portland, Oregon 11-6 at Chicago
Tune Up. That win was probably the biggest win for a Wilmington club team
since the Slickers defeated NY Graffiti at Worlds in 1993 [one could argue
that the victory over Philly in the regional final in ’95 was larger, but I’ll
take ‘93]. Later that weekend the Warriors defeated Ring of Fire 11-10; the
first win over Ring for a Wilmington team since 1996 [though in ’96 they
called themselves En Fuego I believe]. A week a later at Sectionals the
Warriors defeated Ring again, this time 17-14 in a game that was never close:
Two wins vs. Ring in a week’s time and the first North Carolina Sectional
championship for a Wilmington based team since 1996, the Us Against Them
mentality was alive and well and producing wins. Obviously, no one embodied
the culture of Us against Them better or more passionately than Warrior
founder and leader Mike Gerics. Whether it was the black socks, red shorts and
black shirts; the Warrior flag; the team name; or the two catch phrases:
Battle, and WTMB; the team’s identity started and ended with Gerics. He was
the epitome of Walk It Like You Talk It.
Us against Them was nothing new for a Wilmington team. Before the Warriors,
the Slickers did it, and before the Slickers arrived on the scene the UNC-W
Seamen cultivated it better than anyone around. For them it wasn’t only an Us
Against Them swagger; the identity was also largely what those of us around at
the time liked to call being Dreader than Dread; it meant being always in the
constant huddle. That sense of being was even with the Warriors years later
who in August 2002 rode 13 deep in a van to compete at Purchase Cup: The
Warrior leader behind the wheel the entire drive, bringing us down the West
Side Highway at dawn and in awe of everything he had never seen.
The common thread among the three teams listed above was without question an
Us Against Them culture. While that works for a while, it can get to be
incredibly exhausting and a degree of arrested-development sets in. While the
Seamen won at title in 1993, they should have won four straight. In a team
life-span that lasted from 1992-1996, the Port City Slickers’ biggest
victories were in their first two years: the backdoor game to nationals over
Gimme Five Bucks in 1992, and the victory over NY Graffiti at club worlds in
1993. In the meantime they beat everyone they were supposed to beat, didn’t
beat anyone seeded above them and chose to jump up and down screaming Swear
Allegiance than get any better. In 1996 the Slickers went into nationals in
Plano, Tx seeded 3rd out of 12 teams, won one game and had essentially
imploded by the end of the weekend. In the estimation of the then captain Ed
Wagenseller, the implosion was the result of a group of individuals who were
not willing to sacrifice their own personal agenda for the common good of the
team. This is where youth and immaturity came to a head; everything from play
time to wanting to stay away from the team with family and friends at
nationals instead of the team hotel. This divisive behavior led to the
ultimate downfall of one of the most athletic and mentally unstable teams to
have ever graced the pith in the mid 1990’s. And that individual decision to
stay away from the team hotel took us out of our constant huddle and thus set
things spinning in the wrong direction. Steering your team in a unified
direction doesn’t end at practice, or once you make nationals. Part of your
identity is how you go about business once you’re there; this is why Furious
George and Fury have always intrigued me.
By the time the Gerics led Warriors arrived on the scene and began attending
tournaments like Chop Tank and Tune Up and moving away from tournaments like
Toss in the Moss, the Slicker debacle from ’96 was not the too distant pass.
While you arrived at Midway on Friday, your rep had arrived on Wednesday. At
the time, we didn’t hesitate identifying this and we thrived in it. However as
mentioned above, it’s exhausting, especially for players not use to the long
haul of the open season; and what becomes most exhausting is the doubt: Are we
good enough, am I good enough? A late lead over Ring in the semis at regionals
in ’01, quickly diminished and we found ourselves playing up from the bottom
for the 2nd and 3rd bids. Later that season at nationals, the Warriors upset
Florida Combo in the first game, and had to disc to win on the upwind goal
line versus New York Ultimate. The next morning we gained short-term revenge
on a less than interested Ring, and in a chance to make pre-quarters the next
round versus Madison, the dogs were called off and the twelve packs were
brought out. What else better than alcohol to assuage self-doubt? When you’re
not expected to do much, no one in turn is disappointed.
Identifying your team’s culture can be tricky and in large part you can mold
around your teams long term and short term goals. Of course team doesn’t
happen over night; you don’t go from a collection of individuals at practice 1
to a team by practice 2; you need time to embrace the peaks and valleys as a
group. More often than not, a team’s short term and long term goals – setting
themselves up for the big let down – can get in the way of [finding] their
identity/culture. Returning to Ring in 2007 after year’s hiatus, we stripped
down the objective from winning it all, to stopping the other guy from winning
it all. It wasn’t a popular change of direction and not everyone bought in,
but emphatically explaining your goal is to win nationals can lead to quick
finger pointing when that goal isn’t accomplished and you begin to wonder who
your team really is. Players develop an overblown sense of what they bring to
the table and it rears its ugly when they come up short; but if your team
identity is firmly in place, there’ll be no need for such theatrics when the
chips fall the other way. A lot can be said for those teams who simply play
the game in front of them, and then suddenly, there they are. Having your team
put down their own agenda and buy into what you define as your system can be a
delicate step, but with strong leadership and clear understanding of what your
team is about, that system slowly becomes the abiding culture.
Who are we and who is our competition: In 2010, the UNC-W Seamen made a
collective effort to lose the “vs. Them” and focus on the “Us”. We left the
effort to sustain the Us Against Them mentality to our opponents and worked on
vaccinating ourselves against 2nd tier teams and complacency. We already knew
how we would be perceived and received, so we decided to let them waste
their energy on it. In turn, we took that inward focus to create a Small Axe
mentality; very similar to what it was prior to College Nationals in 1990. As
the post-season arrived, we put up wins against UNC; UVA; UGA; Illinois, Iowa;
Harvard*, and Colorado. Had we not made the effort to take the chip off our
shoulder yet keep the underdog mentality, it’s safe to say many of the wins
vs. the larger state school would not have happened. And adding to that, much
of our re-focused identity had to do with how those teams faired after they
played us. After nationals we were 37-10. 18 of the teams we played went on to
lose their next game. The tune was an old rebel one.
Teams I’m intrigued by:
New York, New York; Boston Dog: Furious George; Seattle Sockeye; Riot; Fury;
CUT; Wisconsin Hodags; Wisconsin Belladonna; Colorado Mamabird; Chad Larson;
Middlebury; Stanford Superfly; Florida Ultimate; Santa Barbra Condors; UCSB
Black Tide; UCSC Banana Slugs; UNC-W Seaweed; UCSB Burning Skirts; Oregon
Fugue; UNC Pleadeis.
Tully Beatty
Despite Backhoe outscoring Brute Squad 9-7 in the second half after starting
out the game 0-6, 2-8 at half, Brute never allowed the game to get ugly [ugly
meaning a turnover-fest]. Of the 16 goals (37 possessions) scored between the
teams in the second half, 12 were scored on one possession: Backhoe was 8 for
9, Brute was 4 for 7; two of the remaining four were 2nd possession goals.
Regardless of our unusual second half efficiency (statistically we were strong
on O2D and had a high percentage of Offense 2nd possession [O2] goals), we
still walked into our match-up with Fury like a wounded animal looking to make
too many corrections. And Fury exploited this quickly and easily.
Fury: 15 points on 29 possessions. Their O received the pull 6 times giving up
1 break. 5 goals on 12 possessions. Though they had zero 1 possession goals, 4
of their 5 were 02 goals. The fifth being an O3 and left us giving up two
chances to break and narrow the lead to 3-4 instead 2-5, and here they pretty
much stepped on our throat, 2-8 at half.
Fury’s D scored 10 goals on 17 possessions. 7 of those goals were D1. For the
other three, one was D2 for a score of 2-7; and the others were D3. These
third possession points were for 12 and 14, so some allowances can be made for
their lack of efficiency here — late game sloppiness perhaps. However, 7 of 10
goals were D1 and they absolutely took us out of the game. Coming into the
second half, down 2 to 8, we received and scored on our second try, and then
earned our only break of the game on the next point for 4-8. We got the disc
again on the following point to cut the lead to 5-8, but turned it at mid-
field. After scoring, Fury called time-out and then rolled off 5 breaks before
we scored a meaningless fifth point. Our O touched the disc 21 times for 4
goals, and our D touched the disc 7 times for one break.
And of course as all this was taking place there was Fury’s psyche: creative,
unrelenting, unending. While Fury is not in-your-face and intimidating, they
are constant and it is loud. If they’re not spelling something they’re
clapping or singing, you know they love each other and you know they mean it —
they’re not doing it for you. There’s nothing less than deliberate or casual
about anything they do. When you had the disc three times to break, the third
empty possession saw them go 70 yards for the score, and they immediately
start singing. There’s really nowhere to hide and no ignoring it either.
By The Numbers
- 0 to 5 Brute Squad: 5 goals on 10 possessions.
- 3 to 10 Brute Squad; their remaining 5 goals scored on 10 possessions. 11-15 final score.
- 2-5 Fury: 5 goals on 9 possessions.
- 4-10 Fury; their remaining 5 goals on 11 possessions. 5-15 final score.
- 3 to 5 Riot: 5 goals on 11 possessions.
- 6 to 10 Riot: their remaining 5 goals scored on 20 possessions. 10-15 final score.
2nd half numbers: 12 points scored between the two teams on 60, yes 60,
possessions; and only four O1 goals.
Tully Beatty
ECC and Chesapeake are behind us, as is Sectionals. We’ve spent the past 8
weeks running 120s. We started Cones after Sectionals. In what will have been
a mere stepping stone of a game for us, the trust building and empathy through
conditioning mentioned above will raise its beautiful head at Regionals, as
will the burden of self-officiating.
2nd round and it’s 5 all and on serve. hile there are no certainties, except
that one that says we’ll receive for the 2nd half, they will only score 3 more
points to our 10; but at 5 all, nobody but nobody knows this. Our D doesn’t
have their legs under them yet. Our O is 5 for 5; while our D has had their
hands on the disc 4 times and come up empty each time. The only untoward
behavior so far has been from their hot shot college handler, let’s call him
Bunny, who has called not one, but three fouls on high stall counts where,
with no one cutting break, he’s pivoted into the marker and called foul; and
one of our players, we’ll call him Big Harold, called foul on what’s usually a
routine catch. The reception would have given us our first break, but instead
his foul was contested and sent back and what followed was a miscue on the
first pass. Now at 5 even, our D has the disc again. On a strong under cut,
Taylor gets his hands under a dying disc just before it hits the ground.
“DOWN!” cry everyone wearing black. “F-ing Up!” cry everyone wearing white.
“It’s not down cause you’re wearing white and I’m wearing black,” explains one
of them. “It’s down, because it’s down.” Next I’m waiting for them to say “We
gave you the last one,” which outside of the pre-game gift and Spirit speech
(non-fiction: at Chicago Tune-up in 2002 the Warriors were given a gift and
Spirit speech from Jack-Leg (because we’ve heard about you, they said), and
suddenly we’re down 5-9 before going 1-3-3 and prevailing 13-11), is one of
the lamest and unspirited things you can say or do.
“You have to tell him it’s down,” says Jr., the guy defending me. “There’s no
way you can call that up—you saw it—you tell him it’s down.” And it’s that
exact moment where the premise of the sport fails. Taylor standing there
calling the disc up; who weeks ago running 120s was puking after 4 and could
barely get through 10; and Big Harold there insisting that the disc is up and
not backing down because his will to win is as great as their’s, unable to get
more than 20 second rest on his 120s, and cramping all the way. Yeah, like I’m
going to turn on them.
Make yourself comfortable being uncomfortable they say. Don’t give as you got,
they also say. But what happens when what you have been training and
conditioning and practicing for suddenly becomes something else, something
entirely different. Ideally, we’d like to think our preparation will allow us
to develop enough self-control to perform reasonably under a variety of stress
producing situations; but more often than not controlling one’s self becomes
impossible and the burden on the player is possibly too great.
Never mind the comparison to basketball, soccer, and football. Excluding the 3
pillars of baseball, Ultimate is most like and is meant to be most like what
takes place within cycling’s peloton: rivals working together to maintain a
code of etiquette and level of integrity. And as everyone knows, we get
“platoon” from “peloton”. Here’s Bunny standing alongside captain Barnes. “We
gave you the last one,” says Bunny. And on this side, shoulder to shoulder
with Big Harold and Taylor, we’ve got Elias, captain of the white squad.
“Stick with your call, kid,” says Elias. Something has to give.
And so the disc goes back to the thrower.
“Fugazi,” says Barnes.
Tully Beatty
D, they say, is for dummies. But no D player worth their salt should have the
ability to do anything more than stare at their big toe Saturday night at the
hotel. Why? Because they should be too mentally taxed from keeping the stall
count each time they step on the field for D. I’m not talking about counting
the stall when marking your assignment; I’m talking about keeping the stall
when playing D in the stack or spread. Any O player doing the same thing at
stall 4 and stall 8 is giving their defender at chance at the grail. Of course
you can’t do it every possession of every point of every game early in the
series and you shouldn’t need to do it you’re a 1 seed facing a 16 seed, but
by the 3rd round at sectionals, it’s time to say goodbye to Mickey Mouse
Frisbee and work yourself into a mental lather; and if you’re on a team that
demands up-calls and a vocal sideline, then even better for you. Obviously
it’s more difficult when defending the spread, but if you bide your time and
sit on a team’s offense long enough and other defenders are digging in, you
figure the O out and sometimes you get the grail, other times you see yourself
in its reflection.
Hard to believe it’s almost been ten years, but my wife’s block vs RFBF in the
‘99 Mixed finals is the best layout block I’ve ever seen. The block earned her
a concussion and the Llama a trip to Germany [and recently I read where
someone said Mixed is for pansies]. A deep shot was sent to the girl she was
guarding but Matt Hull leaped a got a finger on the disc, deflecting its
course and Amy was able to come back under, layout and knock it down,
simultaneously taking a knee to the back of the head and getting knocked the
hell out.
On a lighter note, at Fools one year, I saw KD, after shot-gunning not one but
two beers during a time-out, get a layout block on a dump pass that was thrown
by the guy he was marking. The pass couldn’t have gone two yards before he
blocked it. It was pretty sweet.
Tully Beatty
I have an image, indelible perhaps, of UCSC’s Jeff Hagar and ECU’s Nat Taylor
standing before each other after their battle at College Nationals in 1993
[not sure but this game may have decided semis]. Each was covered in grass
stains, dirt, sweat, and knowing Hager probably some blood and a new scar.
Standing their considering the other, you couldn’t tell who won, except the
Slugs had more points.
For the many of us who have played at the top level, and for the many that
will one day get there, we know that playing through a Section and a Region
and later a National is not unlike getting through each round of a fortnight
of tennis. The deeper you go, the better the competition; and of course this
progression can bring out the best and worst in teams and individuals.
Isolating one-on-one match-ups: you hope that it brings out the best. In my
experience, regarding the individual match-ups, the best in someone has
usually triumphed. Inside of the chess game that is the two teams going head
to head for one hundred and twenty minutes, there are 7 one-on-one match-ups
taking place and with one of those, you’re getting down to the bare elements
of what makes this sport so special. Of course, you’ll experience match-up
problems [check out my Sub-calling article], and you can’t expect one guy to
continue to tip his hat and take 70 if he continues to get beat; but more
often than not the defender’s assignment is the correct one and when he’s
standing on the line regarding his match-up 70 yards away, he’s in his head:
may the best man win.
Tully Beatty
2000 Open Finals: Condors vs Furious George. It’s four even. Mike Grant [of
FG] is defended by Corey Sanford. Mike runs a sort of S-cut in the end zone.
Jeff Cruicshank with the disc. He seems to look break mark for a righty
backhand, then he pivots big for his lefty inside out backhand, throws a
quick, strong fake, and then he throws the inside out backhand to Grant. The
throw is right in the sweet spot, safely away from Corey’s extended hand. The
two pump fakes are a lesson in economy, followed by the big pivot.
I pivot. That’s my favorite move. Pivot to the point where most players would
pull a hamstring or fall over. In some of these clinics I’ve been running for
area college teams, I’m puzzled by the lack of extended pivoting. How far can
you step out there or how fast can you step through the mark? If I’m forced
backhand (I’m a southpaw remember), I step as far as I can; rarely do I throw
the step-back forehand. If the force is forehand, it’s very much the same. I
pivot and deliver the inside-out usually at a 45 degree angle. If the throw is
meant to be shorter, the effort is to step through the mark and deliver the
backhand. This action leads to the second question here. The most important
thing in teaching young players to break the mark is this: Your ambition to
break the mark is what usually causes the foul.
You’re more than likely better off having two or three who are fundamentally
sound, can hit a variety of throws, under different degrees of pressure, while
the rest do what they’re supposed to do and play their role.
Tully Beatty
“Be careful what you wish for.”
— Ken Dobyns over the phone, NYC to Hampton Bays, August 1995.
Calling the D line that season isn’t something I necessarily wished for, but
blindly accepted the vacancy; possibly a dumb move for a not proved new face
on a second year team still fielding much of the leftover NYNY dynasty. We
beat Boston four times that season: Regionals, Tune-up, and two small pre-
season tourneys. And that season we lost two games, both at Nationals: Sockeye
in pool play, and Boston in the semi-finals.
“If you don’t step up your game, quit calling yourself in!”
This said with spittle flying everywhere; and that comment is watered down
compared to others heard and learned of later, not to mention the immediate
silence encountered after hobbling down the hall and popping into room 237.
As a spectator in 2002, I hustled over to see the end of the Furious/Boston
semi after Ring defeated Sockeye in the other semifinal. I found myself
standing behind a handful of Sockeye players seated along the sideline. They
were not quite digesting the big let down and were busy chewing on the bitter
pill, calling out the late-game leadership and decision making, dragging
everyone under the bus. All of the trust building drills throughout the course
of the season seemed to be a pitiful waste. Though rotation wasn’t the issue,
part of me was them. Weeks before I watched, somewhat helplessly, a 14-10 lead
on Ring and a sure ticket to Nationals slip away as Ring rolled off five for
the win and a spot in the Regional final. The old Gas House Gorillas routine
was certainly overlooked that day.
A place in the sun isn’t meant for everyone (and Sockeye’s casting a long
shadow), and when the chips fall the other way, a thankless job is, indeed,
thankless.
Be careful what you wish for.
Tully Beatty
In the sixth grade, I played YMCA basketball and was coached by my
classmate/neighbor’s father. His sadistic assistant used to routinely fire
passes at Billy Nesbitt’s head because Billy had such terrible hands; his poor
hands caused his braces to cause his mouth to bleed. Sobbing, snot, and blood
are not too fun to witness when you’re in sixth grade. I never wanted to be
anything like poor Billy. I think he’s an orthodontist now.
The one catch that I know I am going to always have to make routinely, or have
had made routinely, is the one where you’re coming under and the defender is
breathing down your neck, and the throw is just a little bit too high, like an
arm length and a half too high, and you have to go up with your opposite hand
to make the grab. In practice, in various drills, I try and go opposite hand
on anything that’s floaty. However, it’s the ones that are down around the
laces that give me the most trouble and the types I continue to work on.
I was Chris Hinkle’s teammate on Ring of Fire for four seasons and what
constantly impressed me and what I continue to try and emulate was his ability
to come under at full speed and make the catch down around the laces with one
hand, usually his opposite hand, switch hands while establishing the pivot,
and be ready to deliver and get rid of the disc in what seemed like one
complete motion. Obviously it was his baseball background that made it look
effortless and easy. More often than not, I’d have to slide in to the catch,
awarded a nice strawberry on the right cheek for doing so. But if the throw
was right (wrong actually) and the separation was enough, fielding the disc
usually worked and it felt good switching hands and moving the disc before
“stalling 3” was uttered.
And for my own play, for my role, the seemingly easy catches are always the
most important.
Tully Beatty
Pike ran an imposing 1-3-3 for a number of years, a set that may or may not
have morphed into a 4-man cup at times. Mike Jaeger (formerly of Michigan,
currently of Sockeye) was great at the one spot.
The Warrior squad I played for in 2001 ran a 1-3-3 as well and that look got
us to Nationals. Rhett Russ also the right man for the one spot. I’m a fan of
the 1-3-3. I also like a 4-man cup but that set is extremely difficult to run
more than one or two times a game/tournament. With the right sideline and the
right wind, it’s a test to see what those back three can do.
However, I’ll go with the “2-3-2 configururation.” In the semis of College
Nationals in 1991, UNC-Wilmington was down 4-10 to Cornell at halftime. UNCW
ended up winning 19-11. Much of what those UNC-W teams did at the time was
done so at the altar of NYNY, especially our zone defense.
NYNY ran their zone up wind or down wind, breezy or calm They always ran
2-3-2. It’s been well-documented that we studied ‘89 finals tape. Down 14-16,
NY slaps on the 2-3-2. 16 all. At 17 all, they roll 3 for 20-17. Final 21-19.
In 1988 versus Sweden in a game to 17, Sweden is receiving and up 16-15.
2-3-2. 18-16 NYNY. In 1990 versus the Iguanas, the results were similar, and
although their completion percentage was high, Southern Cal still lost by
five. And again in 1993 at Worlds versus Rhino, NYNY I think was down 9-14
before their 2-3-2 won the game. (And certainly that game was a statement game
for Rhino. They faced NYNY in the 92 semifinalss; NYNY with zero first half
turns, and 2 for the game).
And then the Greatest Game Ever Played: NY Cojones vs Boston, semifinals 1994.
2-3-2 from each team throughout much of the contest; obviously 1-3-3 and Clam
from Boston as well. Cojones scores upwind vs zone to tie at 17s. Boston going
upwind with no timeouts. 28 passes later they are up one and pulling downwind,
game to 19. 2-3-2 set and Boston’s cup: John Bar and Jethro points, and Lenny
at the all-important middle-middle. 38 passes later, Lenny swats down a laser
through the cup, game over.
Great 2-3-2s aren’t seen very often anymore. Perhaps this is due to the
fashionable spread offenses or the 175 gram that nearly everyone can rip 90
yards. And maybe it’s just because teams simply can’t play it or the fact that
DoG’s “death to dump swing zone offense” has erased it as an option. Perhaps a
little bit of all.
The meat of the set begins with the cup. It’s not random selection. NYNY role
players earned their play time here and they were conditioned to play these
positions: Andy Scheman, Walter van der Schraaf, Blair O’Conner, Paul Shields,
Jon Gewirtz, Ken Dobyns. Scheman and O’Conner were meant to play the points
and it’s clear they resigned themselves to suffer until the point was over;
good for one or two blocks a game.
Dobyns and Walter, and Boston’s Lenny Engel played the middle-middle position
that always demonstrated why this set is called 2-THREE-2, and not 3-2-2.
Those three along with Chain’s Stu Downs were more than artistic in this slot.
The middle-mid is the drummer, the venerable Charlie Watts.
I think the short-deep is good for one sneaky block. One or two members of the
cup will get a one block, but more than likely they will force a bad throw by
playing the stall count. I don’t want the deep-deep to get any blocks, unless
it’s coming under and he is the guy I talk to in the time-out. Too often you
see a deep-deep come under with the O player ¼ to ½ in and then stop. A block
is being given up here. Let the sideline call for help and get a wing to drop
back.
My team-wide adjustment: In a perfect world, I’d have a pair on each sideline
talking to the wings. A1 is watching the field talking to the wing while A2 is
looking across the field at the opposite wing and waiting for the time he has
to tell A1 to tell their wing to drop back. Got that?
The weaknesses are your wings getting sucked in, a deep-deep getting too cocky
and baiting, or getting bored like a 6th grade goalie, and your points having
their lower body give out on them. Break marks on high counts, lunging at
fakes, and being out of step with the middle-mid; otherwise you’ll have an
overzealous handler jack a hammer for a block, a wing look upfield that second
prior to his catch, or a popper run a give-and-go right in to the sod.
Tully Beatty
Ring of Fire’s Dave Snoke has tremendous footwork. Of course, Dave was a star
soccer player for the NC State Wolfpack before switching over to Ultimate so
it’s no surprise this skill is to his advantage. On offense, he constantly
seems to accomplish more with less, taking the least amount of steps to get a
big gain or get the O out of a tight situation, time and again. On the D side
of things it’s not a matter of beating the receiver to the spot, but he excels
at the cat and mouse game prior to the cut due to the economy of his footwork.
As a marker, he’s never taking large steps and lunging at fakes that the
thrower gives with his pivoting or throwing arm—both feet work together to
keep balanced, and on high counts the strength of his D1 background is really
exposed.
About the time I came to Ring (summer of 2003) I started using a ten yard
single agility ladder. Prior to that, I would polish my footwork with agility
drills using cones and stairs, as well as skipping lots of rope. For footwork
and to get the heart rate up, a favorite drill three times a week was to sling
the rope for six rounds: skip for 3 minutes, pushups for 1 minute, for six
rounds. A shorter speed rope always worked best and was more difficult.
Outside of sparring, I’ve always been interested in the ways boxers train. My
stepmother’s father would have boxed for Germany in the 1936 Olympic Games,
but his parents were Polish Jews living in Berlin. Prior to finding track, my
father boxed for Charlotte Central and was champ of his weight division his
sophomore and junior years. UVA was considering offering him a scholarship but
then NC banned boxing in their high schools, and the rest is history. I
followed boxing religiously from somewhere around Leonard’s gold medal in the
‘76 Olympics to just after the Leonard/Hagler bout. You can see a touch of the
sweet science in Ultimate, here and there, every now and again.
Using the ladder, I employed it two or three times a week after the meat of a
workout or practice with probably 5 reps of 7 to 10 exercises. As the game
became more cerebral, the commitment to footwork helped in the open field
during stoppages: getting open going under or away off of a two step move that
was simply muscle memory, as well as changing direction in the front of the
stack when the count is getting high and the thrower’s options are running
out.
When the offense is being forced line, you’re the number one dump posted up 10
to 12 yards from the marker’s fanny. Stepping to the dump is really no
problem, the pressure is on someone else, but then you’re going to be expected
to “swing” the disc. Do you turn inside or outside? What if the pass floats?
How do you recover? What if it’s a short footrace? Do you go two hands or one
hand and how do you prepare your feet? Getting yardage up the line is a real
trick. Proper footwork and good acting can get you breathing room up the line
for the so-called Cut of Death. Again, it’s a one-two combination (on top of a
handful of other things moving a thousand miles per second).
Experience of course goes quite a long way, but I think many of these
techniques can be taught and learned and perfected. Again, it’s all muscle
memory, situation, repetition, and a commitment to hard work, or working hard
for that matter.
I’m surprised at how many players round the bases rather than slice up the
field in sharp angles and take advantage of the cleats on their feet. Some
players are fast and some have big long strides and can cover a lot of ground
and some players have great closing speed inside fifteen yards. Yet proper and
effective footwork, most players completely lack.
A move I’ve always liked is the power cut-back pedal-power cut. That’s posting
up in the back of the stack and lying low for a swing—pulling the defender out
to the flats with a power cut, pull up and back pedal or drop step, and then
change direction again and drive forward to the cone. Another, and I think
this was discussed recently on (that black hole of goo called) RSD, is the
move you make after a teammate has made the catch just outside the endzone, on
the teeth of the goal line. A lot of players do the run by and put up their
hand up expecting the old Nerf to be lobbed to them like it was recess. I like
the run by, a drop step, and then going left or right or under with hands way
out in front for a possible handoff pass. I’m amazed at how many times a
player is the first there after the catch, does the run by and somehow feels
the D has done his job. Shoot, you have to make that guy work or else that
genius teammate of yours is going to waste a timeout.
Tully Beatty
I’ll go ahead and assume we’re pulling, so that will give our guy what we hope
to be two chances to make up for the first half, even the score, and allow us
to see if what was said at halftime served any purpose; or was the guy simply
standing there nodding his head like a boxer, in one ear and out the other,
all the while wondering if he should’ve run off to the Honey Bucket or maybe
he should put on a different wrist band, maybe someone has some tape he can
borrow, maybe some Gu will help, maybe some Red Bull, maybe he should go mess
around in his bag and look for something he knows isn’t there—the things they
didn’t carry.
There are times when, despite your effort, you have to tip your hat and take
70. And of course there are other times when you have to say, f*** all that
s***, enough is enough. My feeling is that if this troublemaker is a handler,
then make him handle. I’m not against fronting him in order to push him away
from the disc, so I’d only buy in to half of that scouting report. It’s
important to keep in mind that he’s not a handler by himself. That is, he’s
has someone to complete the chemistry and that guy may be the one to really
clamp down on. Someone else has to step in and step up and place tremendous
pressure on the other handler. And hopefully that defender isn’t addressed
directly and instructed to step up. Simply, they know the drill and what’s at
stake and their game becomes something that it wasn’t before, because
obviously that is what our opponent has done with his game. And perhaps some
gamesmanship is in order: during a stoppage you whisper under your breath,
“Whatcha you gonna do, fluffy? You taking me deep? You gonna go deep?”
And then again maybe not.
Above all else, I’m looking at two defenders who know how to play an off-man
high count; I’m lucky if I can get one. So other than me, I’m looking for
someone a little more than half-witted. Immune to exhaustion with an overall
toughness about them and smart enough to know that once you’ve earned the
turn, you have to score, and while doing that, tire this guy out as much as
you can to make him twice the liability on the next point. If the right
adjustments have been made, then this stud will get more points in the 2nd
half than he did in the first. Maybe that proves to be the difference and he
gets extended and maybe a bit frustrated because the O isn’t clicking like
they did in the first half. And maybe, just maybe, he finds his place in the
sun in the second half and then you and your team, but probably just you, walk
off seemingly content in knowing that the reward is in the effort, and
sometimes that’s all there is.
Tully Beatty
Do young players have any chance of making the team as an offensive player?
What about as a handler? As a hucker? What would they have to show you to
prove their worth?
Sure they do and it depends on their skill set. It’s more than likely easier
for one to make it as a hucker first; pretty much everyone can huck it. Making
it as a primary handler (a “1”) is somewhat tougher.
Is calm, conservative play better? Or do you want to see highlight reel
moves, throws, and catches?
I prefer a combination of the two which is possible, but most players can’t
pull off the balancing act.
Say you are a young player with a specialty throw (something out of the normal
repetoire). You are confident in that throw, but it doesn’t really fit easily
into a team’s offense (rather, they could change how they play to take
advantage of this talent). Should you show this in tryout scrimmages?
I think so but obviously not all the time and on those turns your defense has
to be prettier than your offense was ugly.
What is most important: practices or tournaments?
That’s not quite a quick answer like the others; but I’ll go with practice.
Tournaments are the luxury.
How should tryouts behave and carry themselves? Some captains and coaches
love people that ask a ton of questions, and others want people that want a
lot of feedback. Or give their opinions. Or are silent, strong teammates. What
are you looking for? Does the personality of a player figure large into
whether they can make the team? What about an obnoxious player with tremendous
talent?
Tryouts should be determined, with a feel of confidence about them. They
should be putting out there what they think the last 10% of 100% is. That
measure has never failed me in the past when critiquing others/tryouts. It’s
probably a collective thinking among those tryouts, in their drive to the
site: “I’m gonna give these guys 100% today.” Okay, great; but what’s that
last 10% mean to you? What am I looking for? I’m looking for the casual
approach or an approach that’s mostly callow.
If personality mattered, or mattered greatly, there’d be a great many savage
seven squads out there. Aren’t most tremendously talented players obnoxious?
For those that fit that description as a tryout, I think that’s part of their
talent and it’s something they can work on over the long haul of the season if
they survive the cut. And of course this comes down to personnel management
and is one of the reason why being a captain can be so damned thankless.
For your team, does everyone try out, or are returning players safe? How
long are your tryouts? Is this optimal? Is there anything about the tryout
process that you think teams should do more often?
Up until a few season ago, returning players were safe on the team that I
competed for. It may have been 2006 when returners had to actually make the
team. Funny how some decide to play coed when the word gets out. Tryouts
usually run once a week for three weeks; but there’s also a weekly pickup or
competitive scrimmage during this time as well. Also, there’s an early
tournament, such as terminus where interested tryouts are invited.
It’s difficult because of the tourney calendar, but good club teams should
make themselves available to college teams early in the semester: provide
clinics to teams within their section. 2 or 3 times early in the semester to
accommodate all the teams is what I’m thinking. I know it’d be tough because
of all the tournaments, but at least some of the second tier teams could
attend, they have ballers too.
Tully Beatty
Given the chess game that’s taking place, the O should be keeping the D on
their toes equally as much, so I don’t know if it’s a matter Of which type of
O I’d “rather” run. Considering the conditions are windy enough, I’d more than
likely prefer the Ho stack mainly because I’m thinking the D is coming zone or
zone for a certain number of passes. If the D looks to transition after 4/5/6
passes, the secondary outside players are already set in place. I also like to
look for a potential 2 to 3-man homey/dominator after the D’s zone to man
transition.
I think the wind can be the D’s 8th man if you’re running a vertical stack
into the wind. Running a Ho stack is more effective because running dummy cuts
or fake cuts to the open side are more believable and the D can’t necessarily
overplay the open side. Having the ability to opt for a 3-man homey after a
call/violation while facing the wind is “easier” when standing spread O rather
than in a stack; it’s an easier transition for that matter. Downwind, I’d be
more flexible to run a vertical stack. In that situation the wind might become
the O’s 8th man. Dropping a hammer to break side space downwind for example.
After feeling out the first few points in a heavy crosswind game, I’d be more
comfortable running a vertical stack. With the exception of your deep-deep in
a zone O, all the players are pretty much where they need to be. I’m sure
you’d be looking at a 1-3-3, a 4-man cup or some sort of heavy trap-side
defense for a few passes if not the entire point. That being true, I like
having players near to where you want them setup. Allow handlers to be
handlers for the first few passes. Maybe they can play a game of catch for the
first few passes before the transition; and if not then the wings can get
settled and a popper and handler/dump look for a potential 2 on 1 match-up.
Looking at that kind of wind with either offensive set, the main adjustment
I’m looking at is really not so different from a no-wind day: you don’t need 7
players to score.
Upwind or downwind: at some point I’m looking for the opportunity to use
throwers and use speed/quickness to get closer to the end zone.