Seven on the Line

This poem was written before traveling to my first tournament with Rampage Ultimate. Rampage is a new mixed team in the triangle. Ultimate has three divisions of play, Open, Mixed, or Women’s. Open is generally all men playing, mixed contains a ratio of 4:3 or 3:4 men-to-women, while women is clearly a women’s only division. All three formats follow the same rules of play: There are seven offense and defense players, you can only advance the disc by throwing it, you can only hold the disc for 10 seconds, and call your own fouls (a concept known as Spirit of the Game).

DCIM100GOPRO
We finished third place! (Out of four teams…)

I hope you enjoy this short poem.

george_canjump2_cropped
Proof that I can in fact jump and managed to sky the only person in NC with a smaller vertical than me.

* * *

Seven on the Line

Breathe in, breathe out.
The sun shines down,
sweat beads upon my skin.
Do you see,
the cloudless blue,
of a perfect sky?
Can you smell the grass fields?
Freshly crushed beneath my cleats.

Breathe in, breathe out.
Now look downfield,
70 yards across, you’ll see,
seven standing on the line.
Captain’s talk,
‘Let’s match-up,
George, you take number 2.
After the turn,
We’ll run ho-stack.
Who wants to handle?
Who wants to cut?’
Matches downfield are set,
our offense ready for
the turnover.

Breathe in, breathe out.
Now the nerves begin to tense,
envisioning the pull,
the 70-yard charge,
standing hip-to-hip with
the opposition.
Relentlessly, attacking
up field, then down.
Deep cut, followed by in cuts.
After the cutters
are shut down,
the come the strike cuts,
and dump cuts.
A game of quick feet,
as my opponent attempts
to shake me, breaking free.
And I, try to deny him,
staying by his side,
hip-to-hip.

Breathe in, breathe out.
I open my eyes,
we are still there, on the line.
The game has not started.
But, soon it must be afoot.
Our captain raises the disc,
a universal signal,
the pull is coming.
My heart rate increases,
adrenaline pumping.
We squat down,
ready-position assumed,
muscles tense and waiting,
ready for the charge,
ready for what comes next.
He calls out,
“Pulling in…
three…
two…
one!”
The last number,
more grunt than word,
marks the start
as our captain,
heaves the disc 70-yards,
downfield.
And seven-on-the-line
sprint to the opposition.
Game on.

* * *

A few additional snapshots from the Powerade State Games.

 

Tuesday Photo Challenge: New

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One thought on “Seven on the Line

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