Hannah Lougheed, MA SID/MS-GHPM’22

176 terms.

From “anhyzer” to “zipper”, The Ultimate Frisbee Glossary contains 176 terms understood to most well-versed Ultimate Frisbee vernaculars. My vernacular, however, is neither well-versed in ultimate nor spacious enough to understand and memorize all 176 terms in a brief span of time. The moment you walk onto the field, the socially agreed-upon medium of communication (ultimate slang) was quite literally a foreign language to my ears. So, you may be shocked to learn that I was a bit underprepared for my first ultimate frisbee experience earlier this week.

As I strutted with my head held high onto the rugby field, now outfitted to accommodate ultimate players, I quickly realized that the Summer league I had joined to stay active and build community was not quite the casual-community-watering-hole vibe I had anticipated. No problem, I half-heartedly reassured myself, when an opportunity presents itself I can adapt. I am in decent shape and played group sports for years, how hard can this new sport be to understand?

So this is where I need to elaborate on the circumstances that eventuated my tarnished first interaction with this sport of a thousand terms. As a member of the green team, or “Green Baes” to be exact, I was tasked with donning a green shirt. Well, with no green shirt to be found in my closet hours before the duel, I figured green leggings would suffice; they, in fact, did not. So, my captain generously borrowed me a spare green shirt. Problem solved!

Problem NOT solved! The game commences, all while my knowledge of this sport is limited to my very mediocre ability to toss the disc in the correct general direction. At this point, I am just running and hoping the frisbee stays far from me. Shoot! I get passed the disc – immediate panic ensues. The other team’s best defender is in my face yelling, “stalling one, stalling two…” as I scan the field for teammates. Now, I played man-to-man defense in basketball and understand that typically you match with your equal, be it in height, size or skill level. So, in this 5-second time span (I know it was 5 seconds because there was a human yelling with each passing second into my face) I am questioning why this defender is paired with me.

I come off the field uncomfortable with the intensity with which they are treating me, a newbie. Just then, an ultimate frisbee enthusiast fan rises from their well-worn red camping chair and congratulates me on being part of the basically professional level ultimate frisbee team in the area. Uhhh… what?

You guys, I was set up. Take out your sleuth tools and solve this mystery *if this were a Dora the Explorer episode, this is the point where she would dead-eye stare at you into the screen until you respond*.  GOOD JOB! YOU GOT IT! The green shirt I casually threw on, which my captain lent me, was actually a tee-shirt jersey from the hyper-competitive ultimate frisbee league nearby. People who saw me in this shirt assumed I was a really great player, when in reality, I was still working to decode the most basic pieces of their language. Fortunately, after seeing me play for more than 5 seconds, everyone caught on that the shirt was not a testament to my abilities but rather simply a green thing to identify me as a team member. What a day. I have since purchased my own green shirt.

Life lesson: never take tee-shirts from strangers before an ultimate frisbee game as a newbie.

Fin.