Or, “How I rocked the house and nobody noticed because they were all horribly embarrassed for me”
Day 2 of Nationals. We’re playing against Smell My Mule from Ottawa. I’m on the field and we are on defence.
I’m trailing behind the player that I’m covering as he runs towards the thrower, keeping pace but trying to to let him “appear” open.
It works. The thrower sees him coming towards him and throws the disc to him.
I take one more step and then dive alongside him, arm reaching out to knock the disc away. He also dives, trying to get to the disc before me.
I get there first, knocking the disc to the ground.
Objective achieved, I proceed to slide along the turf, underneath the other player, whose dive has sent him on a trajectory parallel to mine, but about half a foot higher.
A second passes and then I come to rest.
With the other player lying completely on top of me.
I can see the thought bubbles that appear in the air above us for the next few moments:
ME: Anything hurt?… No! I’m good!
HIM: Anything hurt?… No! I’m good!
ME: Did I foul him?… No! Yay me!
HIM: Did he foul me?… No! Crap!
ME: Hmmm… why is he still lying on top of me?…
HIM: Well… I better salvage something out of this debacle…
And then, with great deliberation, he proceeds to thrust his groin against my backside one-two-three times.
[Ed. Note: Oh yeah, that's gonna get me some great Google results.]
Everyone loses it — guffaws, giggles, and belly laughs all round. I shake my head and give him his moment. He gets off me and then I stand up. The point starts back up again and we go on to score the point.
Stepping off the field, I expect to get hand-slaps and hear lots of “Great D, man!” or “Sweet layout!” or stuff like that.
Instead… I get head shakes. And pity.
And “Oh man, he violated you!”.
I don’t know as I really have a moral for this story.
Maybe… “Look for affirmation from within”.
Or “Some days, it just doesn’t pay to step on the field”.
Or “Don’t put out on the first date”.
Hmmm. I’ll get back to you on this one.
I need a cookie.