UChicago Ultimate

Highlight Vids

2011-05-20T08:52:00.000-07:00

Hi again, world. In case you've missed us, here are a couple of videos of Junk this year. The first video listed is from our winter and spring seasons. The second is from this past fall before the A/B split. Enjoy.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6ZuenGBSx_8

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wYOn0lpSR80&feature=related

-Hupps

Mardi Gras 2011, or, Trouble Redux

2011-03-07T11:07:00.000-08:00

Junk headed to Midway airport for their first flight without Southwest in ages. Underwhelmed by the half-can-of-beverage and pitiful-packet-of-peanuts that the unnamed airline provided, the troops descended upon Baton Rouge, LA for a long weekend of glorious rain and outdoor Ultimate. Everyone arrived more or less on time and were ready to test our mettle outside of Krown Kastle.

Day 1

Game 1

After taking an early lead against Houston, per Coach Zubair's orders of up-by-four-or-bust, play was suspended on account of lightning. After several hours of sitting in cars or watching other teams play monstrous games of flutterguts, play resumed. Junk continued to rack up the points amidst the torrents of rain and the shrill whining of the tornado warning siren. 13-5, Junk. Undefeated for the 2011 season. The day then got called because of rain or something, and then the sun came out shortly after. Balls.

Day 2

Game 2

Ex-captain Ryborg Bartox takes the camera and proceeds to shit the dog. Game 1 vs. Missouri State, he missed my sick endzone D, sang to himself while staring at the ground, and missed Bank's almost-throw-a-Callahan. Overall, Ryborg's frisbitch interpretation of the Blair Witch Project was underwhelming. Apart from saying "Drrrl" a lot and calling Dean "Mean Mister Dean," not a whole lot was captured on film. I didn't think this was possible, but Binder, can you hold the camera again?

Missouri State had some dece players, but their dubious response to every pick call ("were you within 10 feet?" Fuck you, Mo State, I know what a pick is) was irritating at best. They did have a pretty sweet endzone call though: "V-stack Frankenberry." Note to handlers, incorporate that into our repertoire. 13-10, Mo State.

Game 3

After some waiting and much fumbling about on the tournament director's part, Junk found themselves faced with an opponent once more. They discovered that ultimate players from Arkansas are frighteningly similar to the contraceptive device used to wash out a human vagina. Hirsch calls a foul and the Arkansas sideline erupts with profanity. Coach Zubair clarifies what the actual rules are and the Arkansas players on the field tell the sidelines not to get involved. 9-8, Junk. No comment.

Then a bye round in which Hupps films Supersnatch for 5 minutes with no goals scored. The Men's Competitive Tanning Team enjoys jerky bits in the wind and then heads for field 6 and their final game.

Game 4

North Texas had a lot of tall athletic bros that like to throw up some swilly hucks. Someone said they went to nationals recently. Junk breaks them repeatedly. The rookie line (plus Scott and Hirsch) get a break for the win. 13-4, Junk.

Final thoughts: Jake loves watching himself on the sidelines with his hands in his pants at all times, Men's Competitive Tanning Team will have a crispy spring break, and Zubair doesn't know the difference between blind and deaf (re: a paper for an ASL class, "wait, why isn't it in Braille?"). Is Junk going to Nationals or just Taco Bell? Stay tuned.

Looky What Baby Found on the Innernet

2011-01-22T09:05:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had your peeny "slickled"? Would you like to? Click this, close your eyes, and get a rough approximation of how I feel about winter practices.

The only thing that keeps me going is the knowledge that by the end of the quarter, I'll look like this -->

What keeps you excited about Ultimate?

UChicago Ultimate Frisbee

2010-07-29T09:52:00.000-07:00

Hey all,

Welcome to the homepage of University of Chicago Men's Ultimate Frisbee. The U of C's men's ultimate program features over forty players on two teams, the A-team Junk and the B-team (tentatively called) Hedonism Bots. While the teams are split X/Y in the fall for tryouts, in the Winter and Spring the teams attend a variety of tournaments as far away as Georgia and Las Vegas. Last year was a bit of a rebuilding year as Junk graduated 10 starting seniors and finished 12th in one of the strongest sections in the country. This year we will be coming back stronger than ever and hoping to improve significantly on last year's results. We also have a women's team, Supersnatch, http://womensultimate.uchicago.edu/about.html who would love to recruit any women ultimate players out there.

Interested in playing?
Good. Tryouts are held in the beginning of the Fall (Late September, into October) and will consist of 3 practices a week and several tournaments. Junk is intended for players with superior athleticism, disc skills and dedication throughout the year, which includes morning practices and workouts in the winter, tournaments in the Spring and practices year round. Hedonism Bots is oriented to those with less time or experience for ultimate and is excellent training for newer players who want to play with Junk in the years to come.

What Next? - Practices, Tryouts and Facebook groups
If you are an incoming undergraduate or graduate students, our ultimate season will start practices the week of September 29th. Practices are held during Tuesday and Thursday afternoons from 3:30 - 5:30, so be sure to leave this wide open as you schedule classes [we realize that some conflicts, like discussions or BA seminars are unavoidable]. Weekend practice times have yet to be established. All practices and pickup will be held at Washington Park.

However please contact us before practices start. During O-Week (student orientation week), which starts September 20th we will be out throwing on Bartlett Quadrangle and the Main Quad every day. If you see someone with a disc, just come up and talk to us, especially Saturday the 20th. Pickup will also be held during O-Week, so check this Blog and join this Facebook group: http://www.facebook.com/#!/group.php?gid=127775923910860&ref=ts.
Also feel free to email the captains at chicagoultimate [at] gmail [dot] com.

This Week

2010-04-11T14:27:00.001-07:00

I think about ultimate more than many of you probably think about eating or sleeping. I don't really know why, but it is a fixation, an obsession, a disease. I am not going to be a productive student this next week. I am not going to be paying attention in my classes. I will not be focusing on video games when Hupps is playing them in our living room. With sectionals looming on the horizon, that is all I will be thinking about. This is not to say that any of you should have that kind of relationship to the sport we play. The amount that I think about all aspects of ultimate from tournament structure, to throwing form, to watching highlight videos over and over again to the point where I know what is going to happen in every play throughout the video is probably not healthy.

However, I have rarely left a practice feeling as dejected as I did after practice today. I can blame some of my mistakes or fuck-ups on my groin, I guess, but the performance of the O-Line was sloppy, unfocused, and downright pathetic at times. If we come out that way at sectionals, we will not only get walked-over by Illinois, we will get upset by Purdue, and we will not be going to Regionals. There is nothing that I can think of that would make me more dejected about our season than breaking a four year streak of Regionals attendance. I sure as hell don't want to let that happen on our watch, do you?

If there was ever a week to cut classes, to let your work fall to the wayside, to be in attendance at practice, this is the week. Tuesday is the last serious practice we will have before Sectionals, and if we don't have full lines at the very least, how are we supposed to iron out all of the faults and flaws and make ourselves ready to run, play, and win come Saturday. I know people are injured, I know people are stressed, but that is all the more reason we need more people at practice. I can't be playing every point if I want to be as healthy as I can be by sectionals and no one should have to be.

I conclude with my favorite ultimate highlight video. Without fail, when I watch this video, I am awed by the beauty of our sport and reminded of why I play and who I want to become as a player. It is something to aspire to, and a reminder that all of us are capable of playing ultimate and playing it well.

Enjoy, and GET FUCKING PUMPED:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6wDvuBTj8Vk&feature=related

Brines

2010-03-11T07:04:00.000-08:00

For Posterity's sake, first of all, here are Junk 2009-10's tentative, subject to change, highly flexible O- and D-Lines.

Bro-Line:
Jake
Zubair
Baby Craig
Dinger
Hupps
JMo
Sasha
Smutko
Huge
CJ

Dece-Line:
Seth
Bank
Hirsch
Scott
Jefferson
Shane
Nate
Sachs
Binder
Old Craig
Eric

Sick.
How our lines gel or don't gel is one of the most important factors in how Junk will do as a team this season. The reason that Junk's best ultimate came at regionals last year and the reason that Junk hung around in our game vs. Michigan was that our lines were really good at doing their assigned jobs. This is not to say that O-Line should only work on it's O-Face or the D-Line does't need to work on their throws, but just that coming together and getting to know all of the people on your line is vital. By the time we get to Sectionals, and even more so by Regionals, you should know where everyone on your line is going to be going at the same time that they do. Or at least almost as soon as they do. The point is, lines, along with jerseys, are one of the most exciting things about ultimate for me, because lines aren't about which line has better disc skills or is more athletic, but about being able to work together as one unit to accomplish our team goals.

Or some other corny shit.
Word.

Oh, also... SPRING BREAK!

(Counterpoint) TiV

2010-02-09T19:35:00.000-08:00

Trouble in Vegas 2010 was a learning experience for pretty much everyone involved. While Cultimate was laughing their asses off for the weekend and rolled in gold coins like Scrooge McDuck, the wimmynz team learned how to play brrr pong, Ball Sachs learned how to spike a game point score, and Jake learned how to spell the word "catheter" (he spelled it "cathider" in a 12:46 pm text message to the Bungalo Bros). Even Hupps learned a new word, "coliseum," though I'm not sure he knows how to use it yet. And while I'm more prone to associate him with the sitcom character Alf than the Alph River, we're certainly very proud of him.

Three things we can work on before Spring Break (!oow) to get some solidified coke lines and build some full-strength conditioning shampoo:

-in cuts. Even from the limited footage I took, it is increasingly obvious that running back and forth horizontally (or just standing still) is not a good way to get the disc in your hands. Cut in. If you don't get the disc, clear to the wings. If you get the disc, take a second or two to look upfield and maybe throw in a fake or actually make that continuation, but if you've got nothing, then get it back to a handler.

-handler movement. Guilty as charged. For example, we were by and large unable to run the wrap on the sideline and even when we did, it was not as effective as it should have been at opening up the rest of the field. This is definitely something we can drill over and over indoors, but we've got to really get on the same page with this.

-cheers. With the exception of Smutbro's "Sons of Gondor, of Rohan" speech, there was a serious paucity of pump-up cheers. I'm looking at you, Bänkenstein. "h" is Planck's constant. Bohr doesn't have a constant. He's got models and formulae galore, but he used Planck's constant and had no constant to his own name.

As Hupp-Alf said, we've been cooped up in Crown all season, and we'll be cooped up for another few weeks. Let's make the most of our time. Let's get mentally and physically fit. Also, we really need to work on our tans.

Baby Craig

Captain

University of Chicago Mens Competitive Tanning Team

Look Out World...

2010-02-09T13:03:00.000-08:00

Well, I've finally decided that it's time to due my fatherly duty and enter the ring with Jake and Craiggers. This coliseum will erupt with manly pleasures, people weighing under 150 pounds, and one summer of club experience. Words will spew forth like Alph, the sacred river, and I will point out a similarity between Jake and Skyla with every post.

Vegas was hella frustrating (and a little scary on Sunday morning). We've been cooped up in Crown since the beginning of the calendar year, and our one chance this quarter to play outside was cut short. Balls. We didn't get a chance to really see people's strengths, and we didn't get many opportunities to work on offensive and defensive sets we wanted to try. Now we're back indoors until Spring Break (woo!), and we'll have to do what we can to get some solidified lines and build some full-field chemistry. When we get back from Georgia, we'll have just a few short weeks to pull our shit together for Sectionals, but at this point, we're restricted to small spaces, visualization, and hard conditioning. That being said, Vegas most certainly had its moments, like Dinger Dan pulling off a chest hair for Shane/Zubair, and it was just really unfortunate to have rain for the second year in a row. While I anticipate that we will look at other winter tournament options going forward, I would say that there is still a good chance we'll be returning to Vegas next year with hopes of good weather and great ultimate.

At this point, we're continuing on with our pod workouts, looking forward to Spring Break, and getting pumped for Sectionals and Regionals.

Arriving fashionably late,
Hupps

P.S. - Jake and Skyla have the same number of vowels in both their first and last names (y-inclusive).

Word of the Day: Catheter… (TiV 2010, Part 3)

2010-02-08T14:44:00.000-08:00

Sunday promised to be an interesting day, as we knew already knew that there would be no frisbee to be had. Therefore, everyone slept in and we took our time packing up to get out of the hotel before the 11 AM check out. Our room was surprisingly intact considering the strain that had been put on it the night before and we all woke up to look hazily around the room and try to remember why our buttholes ached in the way they did.

Somehow, my clothes had ended up scattered around the room and Chupps had curled himself up under the fitted sheet on our bed. Anyway, we slowly roused ourselves and took stock in the situation. Jake? Check. Hupps? Check. BANK? Check. Dead Pan Dan? Check. Huge? Check. Hmmm… I guess everyone else slept in the other room. Walked over there and deuced some of their cinnamon raisin bagels and shiz and then walked back. Walked back and forth a few times listlessly. Wait. Wait. Ten, eleven, twelve… someone is missing. Where’s Shane? All his stuff is still here… Does anyone remember seeing him around? Not answering his phone. Maybe he slept at the bungalow… Call up my ho… YO, Baby, you guys got Shane? Alright, thx anyway. Maybe he’s with the girls… BonanzaRae, you got a creepy 28-year-old? No, I know Jesse is only 22, I meant Shane. Oh well, thanks anyway.

A missing Shane, eh? This sounds like a job for Daphne! Daphne! Scooby-Doo! We finished packing up and Chupps and I got in a quick game of find the butthole while BANK checked out. Wait, what’s this? Young Sasha has a clue. Shane was last seen getting a car with the Titcombs you say? Rohre? What else, boy? Shane chugged a quarter of a handle before he left. OH BOY! A decision was made that the majority of the team would head to the airport while a select strike force comprised of Bold Craig, Sky Patrol Captain Hupps, Sasha the Bluer, BANK “The BANK” calderBANK, and Pressels searched for Shane at the Bellagio (Rohre’s last known location), and the Bungalow boy-toys searched for him at IHOP.

Apparently, all the bungle-bro’s heard that Shane was really into maple syrup and so they decided to look for him between the pancakes in their $5 all-you-can eat short-stacks at IHOP. Additionally, Smutko thought that maybe he was hiding in a large plate of hash browns and veggies, and, being the good friend that he is, agreed to pay $11 in order to be allowed the opportunity to look for him. What a guy!

We, on the other hand, headed to the Bellagio with heavy hearts, wondering where our incorrigible buddy might be. We talked to the bellhops and Chupz got them to send a page over the intercom asking for Shin Cladwall or some dude. Semi-luckily, we ran into Vehro, who had taken out a room at the B-lage, and with him were Lisa and… maybe Lauren (Yeah, I looked through the Five Staff Bios) who had been with Shane at one point. They remembered him as the unbelievably drunk guy. Good. At least he’s memorable.

Not knowing what else to do, we headed over to The Bank, the Bellagio’s happening night spot, to see if maybe Shane had gone there with some inebriated notion of finding BANK McBANK there. However, although we managed to get a really good pic of an elevator sign that read “BANK”, Shane was nowhere to be found and there was no one there to give us a hint.

We proceeded out front where we came across two police officers and had just begun to ask them about where we might look to find a lost pal, when Jeffers’s voice crackled in Hupps’s ear to let us know that he had just gotten through to Shane, and that Shane was in some random hospital up north, alive, although probably still drunk. After another 15 minutes, we finally got in touch with Shane ourselves and pulled a U-ey on Las Vegas Blvd. to go get him.

At last, we arrived to find Shane, unbelievably dirty, with a cut above his left eye, arms swollen from hand-cuffs, still wearing his hospital shirt, sitting in an Arby’s enjoying a sandwich without a care in the world and no memory of what had occurred.

Vegas Baby!

D-bauch'd... (TiV 2010, Part 2)

2010-02-08T13:32:00.000-08:00

Well… FUCK! We all were herded into our cars like cattle and Cyle Van Auken was heard yelling “Tits or GTFO” as all the cars rode off into the drizzle. We blasted Tik Tok and picked up some beer on the way home, wondering what the day had in store for us. Would we get to play more frisbitch or would all of Baby Craig’s wildest fantasies be realized? We all lazed around the hotel watching basketball for a while until Big Bad Shane got restless and got the old crew back together. Siege Pod took a field trip over to the Bungalow to rouse some support only to find that, not only was the bungalow a disappointment on all fronts, but all the bungalow brosephs had bro creamed all over the place and fallen asleep face down in the sticky mess. We stepped on CJizz, rolled Marchi out of bed, almost broke a window, flattered Zubie Dubie Doo, incurred the wrath of J-Mo(ney), and spoke unenthusiastically with NGB before we successfully brought the bungle-hos back to the world of the semi-lucid.

A cock-eyed plan was conceived to walk the strip and keep drinking, so we headed out falteringly with limited deliberation and even less purpose. We didn’t bring enough beer and were left with no choice but to continue to buy more and more beer as we continued down the strip, stopping into casinos to watch the Zoo-bear lose money and CabanaRae waste her time at the penny slots. Everyone was pounding beers and having a good old time, but no one was pounding them harder or getting drunker more quickly than good old Shane who loves nothing more when he is drunk than to talk about frisbee ad nauseum. We made our way all the way down to the Bellagio in order to see the fountain, but we missed it three or four times in a row for various reasons like going to the bathroom and talking to this real cool guy named Jason about how he was going to get us a VIP deal at Haze. Craiggers, Hupps, and I finally headed out into the rain to watch by ourselves, but it was some lame ass song, and we were pretty disappointed. Fortunately, we were able to convince everyone else to head back out to watch it with us the next time and we were treated to a beautiful rendition of “God Bless the USA”. I don’t think I have ever felt more patriotic pride than I did at that moment standing in front of the Bellagio, arm in arm with my teammates, belting along with Lee Greenwood.

After an over-priced dinner at Bally’s, we headed back south toward the Trop, in various states of inebriation. We decided that we would play beer pong, but, before we could, we needed thirty racks so Chupps, BANK, and I headed to Vons to git dem codez. Pretty dece. N2Hoops and I ran the table for a while doing some sick shit like sinking on the same cup and getting on FIYAH. I think the most cups we got in a turn was 7 or 8. We reached our breaking point finally and some lame team beat us.

Other highlights of the evening include:
-doing shots with Cyle Van Auken
-Terra getting real drunk
-Hupps spewing his bro cream all over the visitors from USC and Colorado
-Craig’s throne
-Dinger Dan dropping three tabs of acid and trying to eat all of our discs

My night ended as our room filled up with Colorado-B players and I, unable to stay awake, curled up with Hubbs to pass out fully clothed in the midst of the party.

I did not wake up fully clothed.

Hey, we played a little frisbee… (TiV 2010, Part 1)

2010-02-08T08:03:00.000-08:00

Woke up in the morning feeling like P. Diddy. I grabbed my glasses and went out the door—about to hit the city. Before I left, I brushed my teeth with a bottle of Jack. Because, when we left for the night, we weren’t coming back.

Just as Ke$ha’s smash single Tik Tok was topping out on the Billboard Hot 40, JUNK headed to Las Vegas for what promised to be a thrilling weekend of spirited competition and drinking. All the coolest members of the team came out on Wednesday evening and enjoyed a day of roaming the strip, being under/overcharged at Denny’s, and chilling with some sweet track and field guys at a local high school. We were all surprised to hear that 5 had actually come through with our jerseys, and, staying true to their new motto (“sucking less”) for the moment, cultimate had not messed up our schedules..

At tournament registration that evening, we picked up the jerseys and they looked so fucking sick. Everyone, except Baby Craig, was psyched to be sporting such hot new designs, thanks to my main man, Mr. Reschechtko. According to Baby, however, they sucked. Man, I fucking hate that guy.

Now that the bungalow bitches had arrived, our team was 22 strong, and feeling like our nuts could explode at any moment. We were ready to get out on the field and run a fucking BOOYAH train on Lewis and Clark the next morning.

Rolled out to the fields the next morning rocking our sweet ass jerseys and started to warm up. J-Mo(ney), however, had taken his bedraggled band of bungalow buttfuckers for a couple extra spins around the block and ended up lost at the intersection of Smutko’s asshole and Baby Craig’s vagina. Luckily, they made it to the field on time, and our team proceeded to give Lewis and Clark the game. I threw a high release backhand for a score at one point, but besides that, there weren’t all that many highlights. Baby played… maybe two points. Our team decided that we would need to do better or something. Next on the agenda was UC-Irvine, another school about which we knew very little. JUNK played a much better game, although I don’t really remember all that much of it, and lost it on double game point. A heartbreaker for sure. Craig was warming up and probably played… three or four points. Then, thanks to some creative scheduling by cultimate, we had a three and a half hour bye, and, after debating going off to catch a matinee showing of Avatar, we headed out to eat some grubs (read: Taco Bell). We came back to the fields to watch Sam Kanner and Carleton almost get tooled on by Oregon, but hold on to win on Universe. We then began to mentally prepare for our game against Brown.

Although the score would indicate otherwise, our game against Brown probably contained some of the best Ultimate that we played during the weekend. The wind had picked up, and so we all went into the game knowing that it would play a large factor. During the first half, we played Brown really close, each team getting one break on the way to a tie at 5s. Our O-line was patient and aggressive, and our D-line was able to force some turns, although they were only able to convert one of the breaks. However, after that, everything went to shit and Brown won the game 13-5. An exciting start to an otherwise disappointing game. We showed that we could play with those chumps, but proceeded to screw the pooch big time.

Dinner for that night included many high(low)lights, for both meat eaters and vegetarians alike including:
-Hupps going on a Five-money power trip and challenging Ball Sachs to shove an animal style fry up his nose
-Old Craig riding Daisy Dynasty around the In-and-Out burger in preparation for the way he would ride him later that evening
-A joust between Shame and Evil Craig
-The woman at the Thai restaurant attempting to explain to J-Mo that the difference between Red and Green Curry is the one is red and one is green
-Terra being relatively civil… for a bit
-J-Mo offering to provide Ali with children
-Smutko’s fortune: Enjoy yourself while you still can.

After dinner, we had a few beers, and all hit the sack, dreaming dreams of our first win of the 2010 season. It looked like that win would not be long in coming, as, at the sound of the horn to start the first round on Saturday, our opponents were nowhere to be found. Craig was super pumped to rip his shirt off and get a sweet UCCMTT line out on the field. (Un)fortunately, the Montana Rum-drunkards or Bum-fuckers or something showed up, and we prepared for our game. Mr. Dexter told the Chalupa story again… something about getting gassy after eating a lot of Taco Bell; I might have missed the point. Tooled on some bitches for a while and took half 7-2, but then we all got distracted by Pretty Craig’s flowing locks and couldn’t stop watching the side line and let those drunk fucks bring it back to 9s. At some point during here, Binder talked back at something Shane said and so, in frustration, Shane slammed his shin through Binder’s nose and broke it. Binder took it like a champ though, and Shane got his due in the end (see pt. 3). Shane finally rolled himself to a boner at some point and got a nasty lay out D, but the bleeding didn’t really stop until BANKerson and N. Chupps called a time out and told us to stop fucking the dog. We sheepishly stopped and went on to win the game, the final score being caught by none other than BallSachs, who proceeded to spike the game-winning disc for his first college ultimate win. Congratulations were in order for Sachs, CJ, and Marchi who finally tasted the bittersweet acid-reflux of victory.

TiV 2010, raining slightly less, but cancelling a whole lot more.

To be cont’d.

Counterpoint: You Found Me?

2010-02-03T14:44:00.000-08:00

Today, between 6:30 and 6:55 am, 13 meanderthals awoke before the crack of dawn and approached Krown Kastle ready to do battle. Where were you?

When everything was falling apart, 13 slackers and stoners abandoned their studies in pursuit of babes, budd, and bids in what promises to be the second soggy Trouble in Vegas Tournament in as many years. I spent all my day by the telephone, waiting for a safe arrival call from Jake. He calls me his bitch. It never rang. Call your bitch, bitch. All I needed was a call. It never came / To the corner of 54th and Maryland.

Lost and insecure, I found junkultimate.blogspot.com. Lying on the floor, surrounded by Jake's previously unopened textbooks and an as-of-then full bottle of moisturizer, I asked myself, Why'd you have to wait? I then splooged all over Jake's Natural Hazards book. Where were you? WHERE WERE YOU?

The rest of us, nine ferocious and nubile studs, disembarked from the Swilly City at various times and descended upon a place that our current president readily acknowledges is a moral and financial sieve (before he was forced to take it back).

Holy credit buttons and chip trays, Newman! We're going to Vegas! Let's try not to get our panties in a bind, shall we? This is a tournament just like any other tournament, except more wet and there's no sanctioned party. With this in mind, no one should look forward to this tournament any more than, say, White Smoke or Blow-It-Out-Your-Disc. We should approach this tournament with a great deal more composure than this sophomore appears capable of. We are a halfway decent team and if we "play our cards right," we just might have a chance of making it back to Chicago at the end of the weekend with our integrity and our buttholes intact.

Things to focus on:

(on the field...)

-catching with two hands

-throwing crisp but considerate passes

-not dropping the pull

(off the field...)

-drinking water

-giving fellow teammates constructive criticism

-not puking last night's champagne

I think that each of these tasks will take a great deal of focus to accomplish repeatedly, but I have the confidence that everyone except JMo will be able to do them all passably. We all have our weaknesses, and we need to cover for each other. When JMo is coughing up fizzy bile on Saturday morning, somebody is going to have to take his place as cutter/nudist. When Hupps briefly forgets he has a girlfriend, proceeds to hit on Qxchna, and gets taken away in a paddywagon for being a pedophile, someone is going to have to man up and sky some chumps. And when Jake finally grows a pair...well, let's not kid ourselves here folks.

Pre-Vegas Thoughts

2010-02-03T08:31:00.000-08:00

My primary thought at the moment is how much of a bitch Baby is.

After that however, I have, as I'm sure all of you have as well, been spending a lot of time thinking about Vegas these past few days, hell, these past few weeks. I haven't done most of my work for this week, not because I couldn't but because I haven't wanted to, haven't cared, haven't been that worried about school when ultimate is occupying so much of my consciousness.

I think this focus and attentiveness is good. It feeds desire to win. It makes me think that we are a better team than we are, and if we think we are a better team, we push ourselves and expect ourselves to play like a better team. And FUCK, I think we should be a better team.

However, don't let the excitement about Vegas build it up into something it is not. This is our first tournament of the year. We are all still adapting to new positions, new teammates, new genders (in Craig's case). I can't wait to get out on that field and play, but it would be unreasonable for me not to expect to be rusty. Coming off a long injury and only a week being back, I want to do everything I can, knowing that I am not in the physical shape that I would like to be in. I hope everyone's approach is the same. We want to play the best ultimate and be the best team that we can be, but don't get down during or after this tournament.

Come Sectionals; Come Regionals; We will be ready.

Fuckin' Sweet.

-Jake

We're back!

2010-02-02T15:09:00.001-08:00

Hey Cyberspace.

Jake here. Craig and I have decided to rejuvenate the previously defunct Junk blog as a way to document/chronicle/mock our upcoming season. Look forward to many posts concerning Ultimate, fun times, mediocre times, crappy times, Medieval Times, Frisbitch, the Chweidman, Seattle sockjobs, murky jerkys, BANK, and other oddities. also TOTE.

So take the metaphorical crayon out of your hypothetical brain and join us for the ride.

Vegas,
Jake

Beat it like a cop

2008-11-05T15:09:00.000-08:00

So I've been thinking about ultimate a lot lately and just being able to watch has provided me with some insights. Perhaps not necessarily insightful, but hey that's what happens when you are half retarded.

I have often heard that there are two types of players. Those who think while playing and those that use instinct without thinking. I think a lot when I play and perhaps this will only be helpful for people similar. Perhaps others can think of this while not playing and later apply it to their playing.

When the disc is in your hands you can't turn it over unless you get stalled or call a timeout that you don't have. So the faster the disc is able to get between people the better. Right? This doesn't necessarily mean that you have to throw the disc faster, but instead focus on throwing on better angles. When throwing to a player cutting in the shape of the disc should not be OI but directly to the chest. While there are exceptions to this (defender is really hard inside) you should make it a habit.

When on offense recognize that you are being given an option and you should take it. Almost no defender is good enough to be able to shut you down completely downfield, instead they pick what they are most concerned about and protect it. Downfield you already have the advantage of getting to run a race to anywhere at anytime so exploit this further deficiency. The same is true for a thrower. You get to decide what throw you are going with and when you are going to throw it. You have the advantage.

However, in order to continue to be dangerous you have to be able to throw every kind of shape from any position. This takes some practice but is not unreasonable. If you are handling for this team you should have no problem with forehands and backhands with a mark on you. Most people have a go to throw for breaking the mark (I go high release because of my height) but you must develop the other throws. If I have been throwing high release breaks for a lot of the game the defense is going to wise up and try to stop it, but in order to stop that they have to give up a different throw. Now I can go to work on IO's and low releases.

Understandably it is hard for me to preach on fitness right now given my lack of working out and becoming horribly out of shape, but there are few things more important. That being said I start physical therapy in about an hour and barring specifically being told not to work out I am going to be working hard to get back in shape. If you want to join me I'll start letting people know when I'm at Henry Crown. Also it is much less intimidating working out with me then Wallace or Noah. So come out.

Random thoughts for now.

McMuffin Out

Dinger Dan, Get In on this Shit

2008-10-27T16:17:00.000-07:00

Hoo de Hoo!
Fall Out '08 saw the G.O.P. Barack-O-Rama collapsed into an amorphous "Junk-Y" team, captained by Mrs. Bank and Rybones. Hop skip and a jump from the 5:20-6:00am departure from Chicago and we found ourselves early in Shampoo-Banana with Junk scattered across the archipelago of field-sites in Rantoul, Butthole of The Midwest. Our first three games were against SIU, LCC, and yet-to-be-acronymned Bradley College and all blended into a relative blur of UChicago preeminence in the air, endzone and relative focus.
Our crossgender game brought us over to the main fieldsy less (woo! tournament tent!) where we matched up against the Illinois split-squad team, "Z," in an environment slightly less protected from the waxing wind. Vet-dominated lines assisted by the zeal and height of Alex Freak-A-Zorn on the Cob, Red Sasha, and Willy Drop-Some-Goo. Our zone defense was spot-on, frustrating the Illinois Handlers and giving deep-deeps like Wallace, Noah, and MMMPHupps time to...wait for it...wait for it...wait for it...jump way hi and d the snot out of some swill.
The day ended with ordering some XL-p's from doms, passing out, and celebrating our 4-0 day at Brothers, a campus bar with lots of free beer, babes, and Broseph Stalin and and Samurai Huppz cornholing against/with each other and all-around doing lots of other embarassing things.

DAY II

You know what happens when you wake up early for a tournament? You get a first-round bye. Taste the flavors, Jiggity Junk. Some extra "stare at the wall time" and a couple more rounds of find-the-butthole gave the bicameral collapsation of Junk some extra time to focus on the fundamentals that would be necessary in performing well in Day II: Huck n' Z. Game one was against University of Illinois-Y, a jolly gaggle of chaps who learned early the battlefield on which this day would be played: throwing it real far and trying to get the other team to turn it over on their endzone line. Bulletproof. Junk leadership mistakenly instructed handlers to try and work it a little more, leading to our eventual slight demise.
Next game was against Wheaton. Hilights of this game were Dinger Dan rocking-out in some "get it off the sideline so Noah can throw it real far," and I think Noah threw a callahan. Fair and square. In the end, we rolled 'em.
Same with our halvsies game against IHUC-Black. The final point was a comedy of blunders with Red Sasha catching an into the wind triple-helix hammer, passed it to Ari who threw his first-ever inside-out forehand to Huppz for the score. Mouthwatering.

All in all, 6-1 for the weekend, 5th place at the tournament.

Pt. II

2008-10-24T16:31:00.000-07:00

So after a night of partying by myself in the hotel hallway, I wake up at 7 am ready to rock some sidelines. A few games of 'find the butthole' later we were all in the car heading to the fields. After not passing any McCHRONIC I decide to drop the sweeties off at the fields and drive around looking for a grocery store. I find this sweet mom 'n pop's Walmart and grab some food and drank for the troops as I stuff a sausage biskit in my face. so delicious. I sound the battle horn and Sinbad sallys forth to the fields.

I get to the games to find that GOP has already won and Rama is still at the tournament. Rama was playing the other GOP in a close match of wits and chest hair. Broah drops the brohammer on two bros in one point getting the d's and sending some chumps to join in the injury revolution. Well all the broing in the world didn't help Rama as they lost in a most uncool fashion. Oh well. In John Kerry-esque fashion the teams flip flopped opponents giving rise the GOP v. GOP matchup no one was talking about.

After Rama's loosening the pickle jar, GOP walked over gop to the tune of 13-11. The game was often a battle of yards as the wind began to pick up across the Wisconsin wilderness. Frank mZonars channeled the demonic powers of the double GOP to crush the earth with powerful disc spikes. Man that guy has a good swagger. The team fought through fatigue with hard running and hard ons. BONER! HI FIVE!

As GOP pressed on they entered the mystical forest. There they came upon Hegolef, a most unholy dragon. After rolling a measly 4 the team was forced to run away. They met BANK's band of bearstronauts who decided to join the fellowship. Now with this alliance the team took on Iowa State. This horrible game was made bearable by Smutko getting a footblock and calling the dude a bitch. Yea fucking awesome. Then when Hupps d'd some dude who calls foul, Smutko responds with 'dude you're short. you got d'd.' This bulletproof reasoning didn't dissuade the chump but won the hearts of 'merica. With a 7-13 loss the team decides to blame Craig, but when we went to sacrifice him he was replaced with a ram. Fickle God.

Oh and Rama maybe beat the Pimpdagz. Who knows??

McMuffin Out.

Teh Party

2008-10-24T16:19:00.000-07:00

No good. sry.

BIG BANG WISCONSEQUENCES

2008-10-24T15:12:00.000-07:00

Our song is the slamming screen door,
Sneakin' out late, tapping on your window
When we're on the phone and you talking real slow
Cause it's late and your mama don't know
Our song is the way you laugh
The first date "man, I didn't kiss her, and I should have"
And when I got home ... before I said amen
Asking God if he could play it again

-Taylor Swift

So bingo bango Junk rolled X/Y to No Wisconsequences looking to compete in some epic games of 'which nut'. After spending the Friday night at an all night dance party in my room, alone, drunk, alone I loaded up Sinbad, picked up some n3wbs and started the trip. Get to the fields by about 7:45 only to find that the rest of the team is made up of truant retards. So once everyone else gets to the field we do a headcount and find out Red Sasha isn't there. Well fuck. Turns out Sasha was trying to break 12 parsecs on the Kessel Run and ended up doing eight donuts on the interstate. Having interrupted my party I hop back into Sinbad and pull a hundo on my way back to get those chumpers. Apparently GOP lost but played a good first game and Barack-O-Rama probably lost. Who cares?

Second round saw GOP play against Western Michigan. A bunch of big dudes but not really the most inspired play. Well shit GOP played pretty hard and was down by one at the half. After a rousing half time speech ala 'Independence Day' GOP rallied to a loss. nuts. Rama probably lost. Does anyone care?

Next round was GOP battling Milwaukee School of 'Just Happy to Be Here'. Just like what happened to the dinosaurs, GOP raped those dudes. Roundly routing them with a score of 13-5. But hey those guys were just happy to be there. Game highlights include pretty Sasha needing to take a minute before he could stand up after seeing that there were girls on the other team, Ryland swearing to cut Barack's nuts off, and Shane taking thirty viagras before playing a point with a huge rager. BONERFEST!!! Um maybe Rama was still playing. Not sure.

So if that wasn't enough turns out GOP had another game. This game would see the children of the moon playing against Dayton. After 15 minutes of making jokes using the whole dayton 'dating' pun we took the field. This game dragged on as fatigue and drunkeness started to hit the sideline. Well GOP simply turned the disc over too many times and didn't get enough d's to make up for it. Not too many times you're going to win when that happens. So with a final of 10-13 GOP packed its bags and went to go to the hotel. Rama Lama Ding Dong.

But wait why not have a fifth round. Huzzah Cultimate. Tired, confused, and without underwear we found our competitors and started the final round of the day. Grinnell which features notable alum Josh "Up Top" Brody served as the canvas for GOP's fingerpaint masterpiece. The usual bipolar shennanigans of GOP gave way to a level headed, relaxed hydrobeast that soared through the sky to a 13-6 win. Rama won by default as their opponent never showed up. Congrats guys.

The team rolled over to watch snoopysnatch battle against Illinois. In an all too familiar fashion the ladiez lost in the hard cap. But hey at least the guys were there to be assholes. Wipe it on that!

Thus ended the journey on the fields for the day. More to come later.

Bip Bop Bump

2008-10-13T11:50:00.000-07:00

And behold! He cometh with ten thousands of His holy ones To execute judgement upon all, And to destroy all the ungodly: And to convict all flesh Of all the works of their ungodliness which they have ungodly committed, And of all the hard things which ungodly sinners have spoken against Him.

-Enoch 1:9

Fearing the damage a unified front might bring about the University of Chicago men's team has split into two squads for the beginning of the Fall. Each squad is headed by an usurper captain (BANK and ryboxorghhh) and stocked with god's soldiers. So while both wookies and fetts wax up the field, it has become my duty to act as holy scribe.

This weekend the Golden Army will march north to the barren lands of Wisconsin for the first annual 'No Wisconsequences' hosted by cultimate and the Hoedags. The tournament is set to display some of the nation's top talent in teams from Madison, Carleton, and Colorado. While the splitting of the men's team has contained its eschatalogical potential, both teams will still bring some fire.

Barack-O-Rama

Headed by the fearless (read clueless) BANK CalderBANK, the team brings some wily vets and a cast of brooding youngbloodz looking to gain honor and fortune. Coming off a successful club season, Rawri Weitzman and Broah Goose look to keep up their winning ways. My guess is that lots of D's come from this pair as well as a bunch of deep honey passes. Zonars, Shane, and Dinner Dan bring style and nutz to the floor. Meat Alumni Huge, Big Mike, Ratchet, and Sasha look to show off the knowledge obtained from Old Schaef Kenobi. Finally fighting for the final teat are freshmen Meru(iner of Worlds), Mr. President Jefferson Davis, Alex Zorn on the Cob, and Michael 'la petit' Florian.

G.O.P

So apparently there is another GOP going to this tournament. Small world huh? THE CHICAGO GOP is being guided by the pederast Rycoohhhnnn. The team contains future doctor Spank who spent the summer playing with Lush (and himself). Craig, Smutko, and Jordan look to combine their powers to bring about exCaptain Fangboner. Sadly they will probably just get drunk and puke in the sink. Classic. Sasha the Younger is serious...seriously going to eat discs and spit hot fire. Jake Rasala, Charles, and Tall Nate come off of a year learning to drink, win friends and influence people under the tutelage of Bowdoin Dan and (my dick bends like a) Rainbow. Almost new to the streets Eric 'nicest guy in the world' Mayer comes prepared to play some frisbee with his dog and smile. Chris Allen leaves the confines of his sailboat (that's right I facebook...hard) to come find the solution to his landlocked blues on the ultimate field. Lastly and certainly least flirt years Seth son of Adam and father of Enosh, and Jake 'prison has made me a' Newman look to prove to be of some value besides their williness to drink anything.

Exiled Captains
Jesse 'Radio' Marshall and myself, Matthew 'McMuffin' Sibert, will be around helping in small ways that make us still feel like a part of the team. However, this will most likely just be snide comments we make cause we're petty and lack a desire to continue living.

Future Posts
Look for posts on getting pumped up, throwing discussions, ultimate strategy, and how high I can count (current personal record at 132).

McMuffin Out.

University of Chicago Ultimate

2008-08-16T16:33:00.000-07:00

Hey all,

Welcome to the new homepage of University of Chicago Men's Ultimate Frisbee. The U of C's men's ultimate program features over forty players on two teams, the A-team Junk and the B-team Meat. While the teams are split X/Y in the fall for tryouts, in the Winter and Spring the teams attend a variety of tournaments as far away as Georgia and Las Vegas. Last year Junk came in the middle of the pack at a very strong Las Vegas tournament, advanced to the Great Lakes Regionals tournament for the third year in a row and also came in seventh at the Division III nationals tournament held in Versailles, OH. We also have a women's team, Supersnatch, http://womensultimate.uchicago.edu/about.html who would love to recruit any women ultimate players out there.

Interested in playing?
Good. Tryouts are held in the beginning of the Fall (Late September in October) and will consist of 2-3 practices a week and several tournaments. Junk is intended for players with superior athleticism, disc skills and dedication throughout the year, which includes morning practices and workouts in the winter, tournaments in the Spring and practices year round. Meat is oriented to those with less time or experience for ultimate and is excellent training for newer players who want to play with Junk in the years to come.

What Next - Practices, Tryouts and Listhosts
If you are an incoming undergraduate or graduate students, our ultimate season will start practices the week of September 29th. Practices are held during Tuesday and Thursday afternoons from 3:30 - 5:30, so be sure to leave this wide open as you schedule classes [we realize that some conflicts, like discussions or BA seminars are unavoidable]. Weekend practice times have yet to be established. All practices and pickup will be held at Washington Park: http://tiny.cc/zMqgn.

However be sure to contact us before practices start. During O-Week (student orientation week), which starts September 20th we will be out throwing on Bartlett Quadrangle and the Main Quad. If you see someone with a disc, just come up and talk to us, especially Saturday the 20th. Pickup will also be held during O-Week, so check this Blog and sign up for the U of C Men's Ultimate Listhost: https://mailman.cs.uchicago.edu/mailman/listinfo/mensultimate. This is very important so I'll repeat it again: If you want to play frisbee here, sign up for the listhost: https://mailman.cs.uchicago.edu/mailman/listinfo/mensultimate. Also feel free to email the captains at chicagoultimate gmail [remove this].com.