Listen ... Pres Day Changed My Life

Now that I've had a little time to recover from the weekend and the ensuing hell week of catch up, I can take the time to fill all ya'll in on the Illinois shit show that was Pres Day. Firstly, thanks to Katie and Brenda for housing us. I know I'm not just speaking for myself when I say that we had a blast staying with ya'll. Thanks to the Family Goose, Rasa, and 1/5 of Team Stanford '08/Boo Patrol for all the love and support.


The first day of Pres Day was a pleasant surprise, with a lot of sunshine and some great weather. Happy Valentines to you too, weather gods. We had to play our way out of arguably the most prison bracket of Saturday, and started off the day against Ottawa. As if she was starring as the dirty kid in a laundry detergent commercial, Tania "QBJ" Reitz was on the ground and her white jersey was brown by the end of the first point. Both teams didn't seem to be on top of their game, and the game was pretty sloppy. We would play solidly until we got to the red zone, and we'd do some crazy shit and Ottawa would capitalize on our turns. Either way, the game was a little closer than the final score, 11-4, indicates. Immediately following, we met up with Oregon. Unfortunately, that game was a lot like the Ottawa game. We put up a good fight, but just played too sloppy and made some questionable decisions, and Oregon is the type of team that you can't make mistakes against. They're a whole team of flat ballers, mang. Anyway, things sort of continued in a downwards direction from there. I don't even really know what to say about the Long Beach game. It was a close one that we lost, 6-7, but I can't even really say why we lost. Not to sound like a d-bag, but I think we were a better team. I mean, it makes sense, because we have better nicknames (that's how it works, right?). Bag > Bones, apparently. Anyway, I think something was off, internally, like maybe we switched our intensity off, and we just let that one get away from us. The only thing that stood between us and finally taking our cleats off was a meeting with yet another tough team in USC. This is a team I've read a lot about but have never gotten to see. My head wasn't really screwed on at this point, so my memory is probably failing me here (note to self: take notes again, if only to avoid looking like a tool on your own blog), but I don't seem to remember any one huge standout player, so much as a generally athletic, well-gelled team. I think the whole 0-fer and the fatigue of traveling and playing a full day had set in at that point, and we dropped another game 12-5.

After spending approximately four hours at El Torito (that's almost not even an exaggeration), we finally got home for some geriatric bedtime action. We also got a lot of Valentine's Day spooning and team love in, as well as about a million hours of sleep. With all that wondrousness in our hearts, we headed to the fields early the next morning for a little practice and a little redemption. We worked on some things and set ourselves straight for the games ahead. Northeastern got a totally different message than we did, apparently, and after a lot of game-time confusion, we finally got the game started a little later than planned. The practice did us well, and we came out firing on all cylinders against Northeastern. Utilizing exactly what we had practiced that morning, we played a lot more efficiently on offense, and did less "bat shit crazy" things. We had some issues with our zone being broken, but we shored up our defense in the end to take the game in exhilirating fashion, 11-9. We had no time to bask in the glow of our first victory, because Texas was already warmed up and ready to go. Once again, we played like we cared, like we were fired up and ready to win, and took half for the second time that day. We mixed defenses up, but we had trouble stopping Melee's hucks. Every time we'd go up a point, they'd come back with a deep ball in the endzone. The end of the game is all a blur to me (probably in shame, since I got pantsed. srsly, never saw it coming ... dang), and with little fanfare and nothing more than a quiet, "game over", we pulled it out over Texas 12-11. Pre-quarters against UCSD. Boom. After a little break and a painful pact that I think I kept pretty damn well, we met up with our hosts for the weekend, UCSD. The sky was decidedly more ominous for this game, and I can honestly say that I don't remember much. (again, note to self: get your hands out of your shorts and take notes) There were more errors in executions and more drops in this game (About 90% of which can be accredited to yours truly. Dropping passes, turfing throws, interfering with isos, getting roasted ... fear not, I'm here for another year and a half) than before, and there were decidedly more long, sloppy points than in the last two games. The game kind of went back and forth, and as had happened all game long, UCSD finally closed it out on a long ball, 12-11. Goodbye Championship Bracket.

Monday morning was one of the more painful mornings I've ever experienced. After setting my neck back in place after a night in an armchair, we walked out the door to find that God was so upset that we left San Diego that He was sobbing uncontrollably. That was one of the most miserable warm-ups of my life, until of course we ran by Carleton (? Was that you, Syzygy?) and they was playin' my jam: LOVE IN THIS CLUB. (Not to be blasphemous, but I'm digging that one Baby Bash song with Mario. But U(r)sher is still the business.) However, our game against Syzygy was anything but making love to a thug in the club with his sights on '87 jeans and a fresh pair of Nikes on. Syzygy made it rain -- literally. We brought nothing to the table, and they took care of business. They made better, crisper throws, and came down with discs, while we couldn't do any of that on a consistent basis. We avoided the bagel, 13-1. Our final game against Arizona was a truncated game to 7, and realizing we had nothing left to lose, we came out with a little more than we did in the last game. Even so, the result was much the same, as we lost 7-2.

The day was so miserable that our van just peaced out on us. Just straight up died. We ended up in our Underarmour and underwear in the men's bathroom, shivering and delirious, until our car got jumped and we finally got our clothes. Luckily, I avoided sitting in the stankiest van in existence. Half of us went to the airport to dick around and comment on every Facebook photo ever, while the cool people went for some delicious sushi and slurpees in PB to close out the weekend. Unfortunately, I don't have any hilarious stories about running through airports without shoes on to make our plane with minutes to spare or sitting bleeding, sweaty, and stinky between a married couple on the plane like last year, but we did do partner stretches in Gate 17 and I got "LISTEN"-ed by that horrid flight attendant.

There are a good number of teams I never got to see this weekend (UCLA, UBC, UCSB, Stanford, just to name a few), but still, I have a few observations. Listen, in case you were wondering, Oregon is the real deal. Bailey Zahniser is crazy good to the point of being ri-fuckin'-diculous. I honestly have no words. They also apparently have a bunch of girls who are either hurt or recovering from some 4srs injuries, so Fugue stock is rising. Also, they are just really nice, friendly people. We all knew the Northwest was going to be a horse race before the season even started, but it increasingly looks like the Southwest will be the same way. UCSB and UCLA will be up there, but they're going to be looking at a lot of challenges from teams like USC and UC San Diego. Of course, you can't count out teams like Colorado or Arizona just yet, so I wouldn't be surprised if 4 bids to Columbrahs just doesn't seem like enough.

Also, UCSB, your jerseys are pretty righteous, and there are a lot of things I'd do for one. A lot of things. Holler at me. I'll be in southern California soon.

Oh, and to clarify my comments on RSD, I only meant to hype T-Bag, not to put anyone else down. I didn't mean for it to come off that way, but listen, if your #1 wild stallion gets a shout-out on RSD, you gotta chime in. I didn't mean to seem like a d-bag. Also, I am 8 years old -- I'm not allowed to buy cough syrup without getting carded. Boom, roasted.

All in all, it was a great weekend. We didn't win as much as we would have liked, I lost my damn head all weekend and left/forgot my shit all over the place, and I left my heart in San Diego, but I'd do it all over again in a heartbeat. It was a great first tournament back, we played a lot of great teams, there were no travel mishaps, Row 19 A through C on United flight 330 was out of control, I ate a lot of sushi, we bought a lot of great shit at Cerebral Palsy, and I met a lot of cool people.

This is what I'll take away from Pres Day 2009:
1. Love at first sight/sound is possible. My heart is Weezin'.
2. Amanda Bynes is a genius.
3. You cannot go to Mexico if your passport has expired. You cannot play ultimate if you forget to wear shorts and bring your cleats to the field. Boom, roasted.
4. Offering to share your ice cream with under-dressed college girls at downtown San Diego sushi establishments does not constitute as bringing your A-game.
5. They still show in-flight movies, at least on the United Airlines red-eye from San Diego to Chicago. Betting against it is a bad idea, especially when you are wagering your best talent, if ya knowhumsayin'.
6. In 2007, Viggo Mortensen was in the movie "Eastern Promises", so dude who sat in the aisle seat in T-Bag's row ... YOU CAN SUCK IT.
7. A 15-passenger van does not heat up quickly.
8. If and when "Leavin'" by Jesse McCartney is on the radio, LEAVE IT ON, unless you want me screaming "JESSE! JESSE!" at you from the back row of a Honda Odyssey.
9. You cannot put a price on top-grade sushi, especially sushi that burns a hole in your soul.
10. More often than not, when someone looks at you and says "Listen ...", they typically have nothing else to say.


So just like that, after a whole lot of anticipation, Pres Day (as well as Chris Brown and Rihanna's relationship, the life-span of my blue/gold Adidas Predators, and one of the best weekends of my life) is over. We have another four weeks or so until Chicago Invite, and five until Centex. What are we going to do for this extended period of time? Work hard get bank, baby. Spend it at Irwin. Spend it throwing. Spend it on the track. Spend it at the gym. Spend it thinking about how you got faked in, then taken deep and scored on on DGP to fuck your team out of quarters. Oh wait, that was just me. Boom, roasted.

Listen, my life is a shit show without you, Weezy. My heart ain't a brain, but I think I love you. I'm half the woman I used to be without you. And even when I dream of you, the sweetest dreams would never do, cause I'd still miss you, Weezy. I'm so incomplete. I'm just saying.


P.S. In case you are wondering, Bella Donna is winning Mardi Gras. I don't want to go so far as to say that Michigan and Wisconsin are evenly matched in terms of handlers (because Ebae is beast-status for sure, but I've never actually seen some of BD's young'uns play, so I can't say for certain), but I think Wisco's roster just might be a little more stacked than Flywheel's. I think they have more depth, more downfield options, and Wondadread is incomparable. So, advantage Wisconsin. If these two teams meet, I think the game will be close at first, but Bella is going to pull away for a decisive win. Ballsy prediction, I know.
P.P.S. If you think I'm talking about Lil' Wayne. You are clearly delusional. The only rapper I truly lose my Sense(s) for is Common.