Tonight, after a month in town, I found myself subbing for a Wednesday night team, aiming not to mess things up. Mostly, the hope for subs is that they do not screw things up. They don't have to be major factors, but they need to not be major holes. So, when I arrived and they said that they were talking about my filling in for fast players who can jump high, I knew they were joking--my bio sketch on the league website was pretty honest about my limitations. After about five points in the game, my temp teammates were indicating that they might want me to stick around. I was and am mighty pleased.
Why? Because I am as or more insecure as the next person. I have long enjoyed ultimate for two basic reasons: it is an inherently fun sport and it is something at which I have always been pretty good. I am definitely not as good as I once was--I am slower, more easily injured, my defense is often fairly questionable, and I probably cannot throw the disk as far as I used to throw it. On the other hand, I make fewer dumb choices with my throws (although I still make a few), I still don't drop the disk (although I could have grabbed one difficult pass tonight), and I see the field pretty well.
My temporary team won, and I helped rather than hindered. So, I will be invited back (insert Sally Field clip here), I am told. Not just because they are desperate. Even if I don't, this night of ultimate was more than I was expecting as I had not planned on playing tonight. But when the chance arose, I grabbed it because more ultimate is more ultimate.
So, here is the song of the night:
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