THE GREAT OUTDOORS
Disc Jockeys: Join a game of Frisbee at its ultimate
Photo by Peter Barnes
Photo by Peter Barnes
Photo by Peter Barnes
As we mounted another charge toward the end zone, I saw the disc glide deftly between swatting arms, sprinting bodies and a wobbly breeze from the south. An outstretched hand yanked it from the air not four feet from a fast-footed defender, and the team in the white shirts racked up the final point.
After two hours, the final score was in the neighborhood of 13 to 15. My team lost, but everyone walking off the field seemed to share a kind of sweaty satisfaction that’s easy to find among enthusiasts of Ultimate Frisbee.
“Ultimate encourages what they call ‘the spirit of the game,’” Mark May says.
Players call their own fouls, there are only 10 official rules, and the pleasures of the sport tend to be valued more than the competition it creates. In short, everyone is there to have a good time.
Just don’t show up and expect it to be easy. Frisbee may be a favorite of quad-cruising college kids and the owners of overly energetic dogs, but it also can be an intense, thigh-searing workout that takes place nearly seven nights a week at sports fields around Houston.
Much like Aussie rules football, the action is continuous until someone scores. The rules are similar to soccer, with one team passing the disc up the field toward an end zone while the other team plays defense. Those interested in learning more should check out the Houston Ultimate Community to find pickup games and seasonal leagues all over the region.
“It’s a fun, enjoyable way to get exercise,” says May, who sets up regular games. The Penultimates, as his loosely organized group is known, usually draw about 15 co-ed players to Jaycee park around 8 p.m. on Sundays, Tuesdays and Wednesdays. (Bring $2 to kick in for the cost of the lights.) It seemed like half the people there were playing with the group for the first time after finding it on the Internet.
Most were in their twenties, though the group is open to all comers. Don’t worry if, like me, you haven’t had to throw anything larger than a wadded-up piece of paper since high school. Everyone gets the disc, and even my less-than-gifted motor skills contributed a scoring pass.
