I made it back from the National Championships in Madrid, safe and sound. This weekend was an amazing experience and one of the more awesome ultimate tournaments I’ve been to.
To start, I’ll share part of the email I sent to my parents prior to leaving. “I hope this is okay with you, because I’m doing it no matter what. Once in a lifetime opportunity.” Their responses?
Mom: Have a great weekend and speak a lot of Spanish.
Dad: May the Fris be with you.
I have to give them shout outs for being the most chill parents ever, because I know many of my friends (Margaret) whose mothers would have an apoplectic fit with the impromptu “I’m getting in a car with a bunch of strangers for 7 hours going to a city where I know no one after being in a foreign country for less than a week”.
I found my way to the meeting spot for my car ride, and identified my teammates by the discs in their bags. I was riding with Luisa, Xenia and Chiara. They spoke Castellano (Spanish) very quickly and in an Italian accent, so it goes without saying that I was very quiet for much of the car ride. I was tired from the night before, so I slept for a decent chunk of the time. We pulled into Madrid around 11:30 at night, and checked into the habitación. Both the guys and the girls teams (Patatas Bravas and Crema Catalana) were staying in rooms with 6 bunk beds and very little privacy. But, at least it was close to the fields. When our car arrived, we were only the second group there. Tom, a player from Texas A&M who recently got his Masters in Barcelona, had arrived at 4 in the afternoon and spent that time wandering around our area. Luisa and I drove to the welcome party, which was mediocre at best. I met some of the players from the team and was overwhelmed by the amount of Spanish speaking going on around me. Either I appeared to be stupid or just really shy- I’m not sure which is worse. I met this Canadian on our team named Ewelina (pronounced Evelina) who took pity on me and spoke English. She’s working at a private school in Barcelona teaching math and played for University of Ottawa during her undergraduate years.
We went back to our team bunk beds and attempted to sleep to the sounds of drunk Spanish ultimate players coming in from the night. Our first game was at 10 the next day, so we woke up when Bravas did for their 9:00 game and made our way to the cafeteria for breakfast. Spanish breakfast is generally coffee and maybe some pastry (usually chocolate) so my expectations were not high. Indeed, we were greeted with orange juice and cereal, but the only milk for the cereal was the hot milk for the coffee. Gross.
We warmed up for our first game, against Frisbillanas (from Seville). All of the pre-game instructions and directions were in Spanish, of which I understood 80%. We played on turf fields, which was fine for me after always having practice on turf at Brown.
Fields of Madrid
In Europe, though, they most often play beach ultimate and so having 7 players and being on grass/turf are a completely different experience. Also, European teams are much smaller than American (10 instead of 20) and we play games to a time cap (50 minute games) instead of to 13 points.
We won our first game and afterwards “nos besamos” (we kissed) instead of slapping hands. As a continuation of Spirit of the Game, both teams find a spot to sit in a circle and compliment each other and discuss the game. It’s a really cool tradition and the teams often bring gifts. Our team brings Crema Catalana, our namesake. It’s a liquor that tastes like crème bruleé. According to a Catalan alcohol magazine:
– CREMA CATALANA DEVA LIQUEUR, 17% alc.vol., 700 ml Liqueur based on the traditional Crema Catalana dessert, made from milk, vanilla, cinnamon and egg.
So we pass that around and share the bottle between two teams. It was an interesting way of rehydrating after a game. We then had a bye and watched the Bravas play.
Our second game was against the other team from Barcelona, the Piranyes. They were tough competition and we lost at the cap. During this game, the captain (Clara) decided I was a handler and I switched from cutting to handling. This was for the best, ultimately, because later in that game I pulled my hip flexor and couldn’t have cut if I wanted to. That loss was a tough one, and during the 3 hour bye I passed out on the ground of our residencia for an hour. A summer of biking does not prepare you well for a frisbee tournament, and I learned this weekend to appreciate the 3 hour Disco practices as preparation for a tourney. We came back to our last game of the day stiff and lackluster. We played Corocotta, the eventual champions of the tournament, who had a very simple huck offense that we failed to shut down. It was a frustrating loss.
After the game, I showered and got ready for the tournament dinner and party, which I was looking forward to. I found the English speaking members of the guys team, Tom and an Irish player named Rory, and hung out with them for most of the night. The tournament dinner began in a typical Spanish fashion, at 10:00 at night. It ended up being a 3 course meal with free beer and wine until dessert and lasted 2 hours. Very different from the American tournament dinners of pasta en masse as quickly as you can shove it down your throat. Spanish players seem to have a throwing-things issue, because during dinner, napkins and pieces of bread flew about the dining room. As one of the youngest people in the room, I was definitely not the most immature. The party included dancing and- surprise surprise- more things thrown about the room, including people. I failed at my life of the party roots and walked home with Tom and Rory at 1 in the morning, getting only slightly lost in Madrid along the way.
We had our first game of Sunday at 9, and woke up to the same mediocre breakfast. The team we played was brand new, from Castille and we won easily. In the circle of love after the game, the players were complaining about playing in the cold of Spain. Had I been able to communicate succinctly, I would have talked about the Round Robin tournament Disco hosted last March, where the snow was inches on the ground and Michelle had to call an injury timeout because she was so cold. Spanish weather has nothing on Rhode Island.
Our second game I was barely able to run down the field because of my hip. We were losing, though, so Clara kept putting me back in. At one point in time, I bid for a disc in the end zone (I ACTUALLY JUMPED FOR IT) and went down hard, bending my leg in a weird direction. I called for a sub and ice. To further the differences between US ultimate and Spanish, instead of ice or a medic on the sidelines, there were tubs of beer. My teammate handed me a beer to ice my hip but I could have just as easily drank it to remedy the pain. Love the Spaniards.
I went back in in the last couple of points and threw some stupid mistakes, things that I would never have the guts to do playing for Disco. I think that had I had more ownership in the team or been able to communicate better, I could’ve contributed more to the team on the field and off. I guess for a first tournament with the team, it wasn’t half bad. Bravas ended up losing both of their games on Sunday and coming in 4th, a disappointment for the team. Tom and Rory put it succinctly- they didn’t lose, but beat themselves, which seems to be a common theme in open teams.
After the finals, which everyone stayed to watch (another difference with tournaments in the States), there was an awards ceremony. Every team was called up to receive their door prizes (a orange and black penny with the championship logo on it) and take a picture. It took a while for every team to make their way up there, but it was cool to see every team support each other along the way. A lot of teams had songs, and the whole crowd joined in with the singing (for Disco: think “Ungawa, Dartmouth’s got the power”). When the open championships got their trophy, they picked up one of their players and started throwing him in the air (again with the throwing things) and dropped him on the ground, knocking the wind out of him. It probably could’ve won the $10,000 grand prize on America’s Funniest Home Videos.
Las Cremas Catalanas- and me in the neon orange Monarch Pass hat and my Disco jersey
I was invited to the Catalan league championships with the team, so I’ll see how that works with my schedule. Right now, though, I’m icing my ass copiously and taking some time off. Fall league starts next week, which I’m excited for. Games are on Wednesday nights and at the closer fields (in the Olympic village of 1992!). So that’s my leap of faith into Barcelona Ultimate. I had a great weekend and loved playing Ultimate again for the first time in months. Seeing frisbee internationally was an awesome experience.
Excited to be here!
the mediocre travel blog 