Ultimate!!!!

11 December 2014—Thursday

     Two YEARS!!  It was August 2012, Tirana.  I had stepped into the country for a couple weeks before heading off to Russia to teach English.  Because I had spent time in Albania, I knew who to talk to in order to wrangle up a game of Ultimate Frisbee.  We played, and one of the contestants was a beautiful woman from Russia!  So what?  Well THAT was the last time I played Ultimate Frisbee until LAST NIGHT!!

     What a joy!  I walked through the rusty, screen door and onto the indoor soccer field—a nylon “grass” covering laid onto cement.  The sides had metal netting some 30 feet above the surface on all four sides.  Six players were at the far end of the field.  One Albanian dude who I had seen only hours before when I paid for my kid’s climbing membership, came running to me, “James!!  Wow!! It’s good to see you!!  We didn’t know you were coming!”  

     I took off my “Iowa for Obama” sweatshirt, and my plastic pants commemorating the 1985 Annapolis 10-mile run.  So, dressed in a Memphis BBQ rainbow tie-dyed t-shirt, and black nylon shorts, wearing tennis shoes with so many holes, they would stop only 3 of 25 marbles dumped into them from a height of  6 inches, I ran to the group.  

     As I approach, a dude wearing a look like he is seeing a ghost from the some time during the Nixon administration comes near me.  “What is this?!?  James!  Is it really you?  I thought you had vanished forever.”  What?  Did this guy have me confused with someone else?  

     I didn’t spend any time worrying about it and said immediately, “Hi,” as I held out my hand, “I don’t know how I know you.”

     “Akili.  I used to have a long braid.”

     Now it was my turn to see something like a wild flower in a patch of four-leaf clovers.  “Whoa,” I say, “it can’t be you!”  This guy had had hair down to his waist!  Now, although not a military high and tight, he wore no more than a couple months of hair.  The change was truly remarkable—the effect was 10 times greater than seeing your mom without the glasses she has worn for since you were born.  

     I had to get over it, as we began right away.  After all, we were already more than customarily late.

    Someone said, “Ok, let’s make it North America against Albania with one sub.”  My arrival made seven players with three from Albania and the rest from the US.  Dirk had taken the leadership role and suggested that the sub come in after every two points, joining alternating teams. Such a practice would allow everyone to have playing time while also changing up the team rosters.  Since I was the latest entrant, I would be the first one to sit out.  

     Three on three was a small population for this field.  People would have to cover a very large territory.  Everyone would certainly get a healthy work out.  One team took the ‘huck’ and moved it do the other side of the field before a turnover.  The other team brought it back before another turnover—again, and again.  Then a young woman entered the field near where I was standing.  

     “Hi!” I said, “are you playing?”  Please notice that while I often dispense with niceties, I usually introduce myself and ask the name of a new person, but in this case, I went straight to the most important issue—is she going to play frisbee?  I’m lucky that I even said, “Hi.”

     “No, I’m just going to watch.”  I knew this was nonsense right from the start.  If she truly intended only to watch, she could have stayed OUTside the cage.  This reminds me of a This American Life episode when they spent time at a car dealership.  The sales manager is giving a pep talk to his sales team.  “When people say they are not ready to buy a car—that they are only looking—it’s baloney.  They have taken time out of their Saturday, gotten into their car, drove through traffic to come to a CAR DEALERSHIP—they are ready to buy a car.”  This lady has gotten herself together, left her comfortable home, walked all the way to the field, walked past another field, down the steps to the surface…she wants to play.

     The six players were at the other end of the field when Teah (Tay-ah) arrived.  The effect was like a bolt of sun during a 3-day rainstorm.  Two Albanian players moths running to a flame when they recognized the new personage on the nylon.  Albanians are more enthusiastic with their greeting than Americans.  Hugs and kisses are obligatory—even if they are sometimes false.  In THIS instance, there was no faking the delight.  Albanians, including the men—even burly ones named Bruno—have a tradition of kissing twice on the left and the right when greeting and sometimes when departing.          Not being familiar with this tradition, most foreigners do not partake.  Some years ago, I felt fortunate to be instructed in the art of this tradition by another frisbee player, Genti.  During a break in the action, he took me aside and showed me that a small movement is made to the left ‘cheek’ and then to the right.  Though it is called a ‘kiss’ the lips are not involved.  In practice, a mere touch of the head is performed, then the other side of the head is touched.  

     I used my recently acquired skills in Albanian to understand the conversation with Teah.  I went something like this, “Teah! Yada yada yada yada yada, you, yada yada yada yada.”  By now, everyone was back to my end of the field in order to begin a new game with 8 players—the perfect amount for this small field.  

     We separated the teams, this time NOT using arbitrary national boundaries to determine membership, and I began the short walk to the other end.  After several steps I turned to place my glasses inside my backpack—a soon to be ominous misstep.

     As in every Ultimate contest, the disk was thrown from one side of the field to the other.  Players passed it to each other—sometimes advancing toward their goal, sometimes in reverse, if that seemed to be called for.  Even though my vision was cloudy, I threw the disk the length of the pitch exactly where it needed to go for a score.  The accuracy of vision is not vital when throwing the length of the field.  Catching, however, is a different story.  At one point, as the disk approached me, I put both hands up to make a safe and sure catch.  Instead, I grabbed a whole bunch of nothing.  At that point, I realized I needed the glasses that I had placed in my backpack.  

     The glasses are bifocals.  Not long after I first purchased bifocals, some 5 years ago, I hated them, and didn’t wear them for a year.  I couldn’t see how anyone could wear such things that demanded the wearer to be constantly choosing which lens to use.  I couldn’t walk down the stairs without holding onto the railing for guidance. At the time, I decided to make due with single focus lenses.  Since that time, however, my eyes have deteriorated.  I now wear bifocals all the time.  On the frisbee field this switching between lenses means essentially taking my eye OFF the disk for a moment while engaging the other lens—obviously not and ideal situation—one moment is enough time for the enemy to arrive, enough time for the disk to lose altitude, or enough time for an uneven bit of ground to alter the runner’s orientation. It’s a better practice to remain in view of the frisbee at all times.

In the end, I decided the transient discomfort of the bifocals was preferable to the constant fog of poor eyesight.  The choice proved fortunate some minutes later when ran toward a long pass at the back of the goal area.  As I stopped quickly some 6 inches before the slamming into soccer goal (with the disk firmly in my arms), the glasses fell to the ground.  Luckily, there was no damage.  

     After an hour of great fun and serious physical exercise, several of us repaired to local cafe.  One topic was the arrival of Teah.  We discussed how great it was to have her join us, particularly because that meant that we had 8 players.  I facetiously complained that they had not greeted my as warmly when I had arrived only minutes before.  

     Ilir said, “I came down to see you!”

     “Yes, but you didn’t give me a kiss.”