Wednesday, March 09, 2016

Another Story About Frisbee

I noticed this when we were playing winter league on Tuesday night in the snow, the way you handle the disc when you catch it right outside the endzone. How you pivot up onto your left toe and step deep into the endzone, holding your arm out, wrist up, palm up - looking between your teammates as they form and disperse, offering it to them as if to say, look how close we are, kindly, with wide gestures and a thoughtful flat draw.

In the second half when the wind had died down I tried it myself, extending my whole body into scoring territory with the disc held out in front of me. Even as I looked from cutter to cutter, though, the stance felt inauthentic. I was not offering the disc, as you were - instead, I was trying to rid myself of it. It was an object whose presence I was imploring to be separated from. When I finally turned behind to drop it to you, I saw more clearly the difference. The way I stood wide and fearfully, and the way you extended the disc sensitively, as if it were something to be loved.


Anonymous said...

Ahhhh the beauty of a wonderful sport we call ultimate.
Pure poetry.

dash13pa said...

It's been too long. Pick up the keyboard and just start writing!