A Most Important Part of my Ultimate Life [so far]; part 2

Coyee’s Conundrum

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It’s a wonderful feeling to have people look up to you, especially in an activity that you love and spend a lot of effort working in. In my second and final season of college ultimate, I felt I had a certain amount of prestige; I was super tall, I knew a ton about the sport on a national/international level, and Jonathan “Goose” Helton knew me by name [!!!]. I wasn’t a coach or captain of the team, but many looked to me for advice on drills, skills, and thrills. I really enjoyed my place on the team as an elder [nick-named “Old-Man River” for being ~7 months older than anyone else on the team (on second thought, I wasn’t even the oldest; not by multiple years {thanks, teammates})].

But no position felt better than that of an ultimate father.

(No, I don’t actually have a child.)

At the start of that wonderful second college season, my team was meeting for our second practice of the season, which was also the third day of classes. Many new players were also new to the college, the town, the state. Learning to throw is obviously a big part of the start of the season, so we were having everyone throw with a partner as the veterans took note and stepped in to advise.

Women’s rugby was also practicing in the outdoor recreation complex we were using, so I saw many women passing by us on their way to another sport. I noticed one particular woman walking by herself with a stern step; I gave another sigh of disappointment as she passed, wishing that women would magically appear on our field to join my sport, our sport.

I was walking the line of throwers, returning discs and giving quick tips, when out of the corner of my eye I notice that stern step coming towards me. She isn’t wandering through the sea of bodies and discs flying around, she is walking straight for me, specifically.

“Is this the ultimate frisbee?” she asked with a thick Chinese accent.

“Yes, it is.”

“I would like to try” she responded.

It was obvious this girl had never touched a disc[craft] in her life, but I gladly worked with her. By the end of practice, she was completing 15 yard backhands and flicks; pretty good for a newbie, I would say. “Coyee”, she said her name was; a new transfer student from Hong Kong.

But Coyee wasn’t the only girl there; she wasn’t the only girl who shows up in the first week. I’d seen the same thing the year previous: a couple girls will show up after maybe seeing us at the recreation festival the college holds, or maybe a friend told them about the sport or something. Almost all of those girls leave after one or two practices. I didn’t know why at the time, and in my naivety, I assumed she would be the same.

“See you on Friday?” I asked.

“Okay” she answered, in a sheepish, unsure tone.

Friday comes around, and I pull up to the fields, my eyes scanning the horizon for any sign of women returning to practice. I find none.

Another one bites the dust.

We work on our throws, we warm up our bodies, and we start some cutting drills. I’m running The Cutting Tree when I see her again, and she joins the drill and the practice, and she keeps coming back. She really only knows me, still. So she comes to me with her questions. When we break off to throw with partners, we work together [or she works with Corina, an equally important part of this story, who we’ll cover later]. Slowly, but surely, Coyee is starting to understand this sport, and slowly but surely, her interest is starting to compound and grow.

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Coyee and other NIU players picking up with Beloit at High Tide 2015.

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This is a new kind of relationship for me. I had never coached anyone 1-on-1 like this, especially a complete newcomer. I felt validated when she agreed with my points of view, when she found success with my advice and teachings, when she would build on what we were working on. I felt proud when she performed well, whether with my guidance or on her own. I felt excited to have someone who would just talk about ultimate strategy and theory and spirit.

But I also felt sad. A sadness I didn’t express to Coyee or my teammates.

I was sad that Coyee and Corina had a hard time playing a ton in practice, because they were the only two women there. I was sad that Coyee [and Corina] couldn’t play in more than just two tournaments with NIU’s team, because we didn’t have enough women, and in the spring we played Open. It wasn’t fair to them, especially as rookies, to try and grow in the narrow scope that was NIU mixed ultimate.

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 I decided to try and do something about our problem, rather than sit and mope and hope: I used whatever networking resources I had to try and find Coyee [and Corina] another team to play with at tournaments. Fortunately, there was quick, happy, inviting responses from other state teams, and Illinois State’s captain gladly took on our women. The dragging feeling of not being able to play alongside and coach Coyee was nothing compared to the relief I felt for our women having somewhere and someone to play with.

More importantly, I decided to push towards forming a women’s team at NIU.

The process was slow-moving, and I was alone in my efforts. It was also a process that I had never been involved in before, and personal resources were few and far between. Luckily, there are a large number of people in this world who have worked through the process before, and have charted their progress and information. Things like Without Limit’s College Women’s Ultimate Resources Manual and scattered stories on Sky’d and other blogs talking about past experiences, tips, tricks, and words of encouragement. These are invaluable tools, and I’m thankful someone took the time to put them all together.

So I started compiling all of the information I could find, and got to work. I searched for practice information for other women’s club sports and spectated some of the practices of the volleyball and soccer teams, looking for useful methods, or better yet, potential players to poach. I created potential meeting talking points and initial practice plans. As December came, and the semester started running down, I felt like I had done a lot of work, but it was all preparation; actual forward progress was still non-existent.

I graduated that December, and in two-weeks time, I toyed and eventually ran with the idea of moving to Oregon with two of my long-time friends. It is a decision I believe was the right one for me, but I have to admit something:

I failed.

I failed Coyee, I failed Corina, I failed the rest of my teammates, and I failed myself.

Not only did I not accomplish what I had told Coyee and Corina I would, but I abandoned them in the same breath. I have a couple of great teammates and friends who are still there working with them, but even now, a year later, they still find themselves without a women’s team of their own, and change is not coming anytime soon.

NIU did well this season in getting a few more women to field mixed teams in the fall, but the fall season is over. Spring comes next, and spring is Open season. I don’t know if Coyee and her female teammates will be able to play ultimate outside of practice. I don’t even know if they will get any playing time at practice. I don’t know what will come of their participation in a wonderful sport, and worst of all, I can’t do much about it. I’m no longer a strong voice on the team; no longer there in person to push for the changes Coyee and others need.

I’ve said before that ultimate saved my life. It got me outside and moving, becoming stronger and healthier than I otherwise would have been; it got me outside and meeting people, people I have come to love and create bonds with that I otherwise would not have; it got me writing and traveling and working on projects that benefit others, things I otherwise was losing interest in.

I could see ultimate doing similar things for Coyee. I saw shades of myself in her. I was helping to create a similar experience in someone else; and it was inspiring and beautiful.

And I failed her.

And it sucks.

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I still talk with Coyee regularly. She’ll text me after tournaments and we’ll talk about her experiences on/off the field: the great things she did, the struggles she couldn’t overcome, the trials and tribulations of trying to get time on the practice field.

I like to think I am still helping her progress in the sport, but each time we talk, I am coated in a blanket of dread and regret that I left before finishing what I started.

Honestly though, I think she’s doing pretty great. She has met a lot of wonderful women in the area, and even practiced with a club team this past summer. She is talented enough, strong enough, to succeed if she really wants to. And I think she does.

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In the past year in Oregon, you may have noticed my particular interest in women’s ultimate: I drove many hours just to watch events like the Northwest Challenge, Eugene’s Summer Solstice, and USAU’s Northwest Women’s Regionals; I volunteered and worked the All-Star Ultimate Tour’s game in Portland; I purchased apparel from at least 6 different women’s club teams that help them with team finances and exposure [things that I rep every time I play ultimate]. I have had a truly wonderful time doing all of these things, but truthfully, I don’t do these things for the entertainment or leisure that they provide.

I do these things so that maybe I can learn a little more about the sport, a little more about the culture of women’s ultimate, a little more about succeeding in this environment.

I do these things so that maybe I won’t fail next time.

A spirit disc Coyee received in her first game playing with a women’s team. She mailed it to me with a lovely letter written on the back after I moved away. It is my favorite disc.

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I can’t end this blog post without giving huge props to Corina.

Like Coyee, Corina joined the team out of the blue, having never played before. Unlike Coyee, Corina was loud, energetic, outgoing, and super social. She quickly became “one of the guys”, going to events with everyone and hanging out regularly, something girls didn’t do in such a large capacity before her arrival.

Coyee and Corina had a great bond, learning together and fighting to play more together. I don’t think either would have stayed on the team this long without each other.