We were staying even until 5-5. Then we decided we really wanted to win: 8-5. 10-5. At 10-6, everyone finally recognized that there was an awful lot of lightning going on, and it was coming toward us. So we took a break, hiding in cars. Jenny and I were told by one of the commissioners playing on the other team, that because we had passed half, if we didn't resume then the score was final. Jenny was very sick, but had come to cheer... and, as is the nature of ultimate players, geared up to play for a bit. It would have been very easy to walk away with the win. But we came to play, everyone on our team stuck around, and 15 minutes later, game on.
Our team is really really good. A scene plays out -- often, 2-3 times a game -- that just sticks with you. Weasel is walking the bad pull to the center of the field. The stack is tight. Every person on both teams knows that Weasel is going to huck it. The defense is announcing it. We may be as well. The problem is this: we're faster than they are, with several disciplined deep threats on every line. Disc in, and the person with the greatest mismatch streaks deep as the disc is launched. Perfect positioning and placement. At least 2-3 times a game. So we're a hucking team? No. We generally get to this place, the man mismatches, after we've dismantled their zone a couple of times through methodical play -- we have probably 8 or more Summer League class zone handlers.
So I'm happy that my flight to Costa Rica was purchased as coming from Pittsburgh the day after Finals. This has meant that I've known I am going to Finals the whole season. And now I get to play in the real Finals. Woo.
Off to New England this weekend in pursuit of that real job thingie.