“Where are you going, Colin?” Spencer calls to me from his beanbag chair. He is supposed to be reading for Psychology, but I have a feeling that he is doing something else. I peer behind the book in his lap. It's a new GameBoy Color. I sigh.
“I'm going to Frisbee tryouts. Why do you think I'm wearing red and white shorts and carrying a Frisbee in one hand? I'm going dancing, I just thought you might want to know.”
“Okay, honey,” Spencer nonchalantly replies without even looking at me. I snort a loose hair out of my face, and disappear out the door.
The brisk August morning air invigorates me as I walk to the football field, confident to land a spot on the Ultimate Frisbee team that is just forming; this is the first season. In fact, this is the first season that the NCAA is allowing Ultimate Frisbee to become a varsity sport. Rensselaer doesn't have as much of a tradition as other universities do in Ultimate; some colleges have intramural leagues dating back to the sport's conception. No matter what the skill levels are of the other players, I feel that we will have a good time, regardless of how well we do in the regular season.
I arrive at the practice field at eight o'clock just like the poster advertised. Other people are there as well. There is quite a mix: there are muscular jocks as well as thin nerds who will vie for the coveted spots on the team. I can't wait to begin tryouts.
Before we begin, we meet our coach, Coach Hamlin, or “The Hammer” as he is affectionately known. He is gruff at times, but I know he means well. From the way I have seen him treat his athletes, he pushes them to their limits, not over them, which I greatly admire about him. He has us line up and say our name and class so that we can get to know other people.
“Brophy Redmon, Junior.”
“Simon Keller, Senior.”
“Cory Wells, Sophomore.”
“Sira Patel, Sophomore.”
“Douglas Patton, Freshman.”
“Colin King, Freshman,” I say proudly. Coach Hammer and half of the team look at me.
“Shawn Birt...”
“Wait a second, Shawn,” Coach waves off the next person. “Did you say your name was Colin King, young man?” he rasps, moving in front of me.
“I did, Coach.” I tell him.
“I can't believe it!” “It's him!” “What's he doing here?” “I want his autograph!” I hear from the crowd. I look around wildly.
“What's wrong with me?” I ask Coach. He just smiles.
“There's nothing wrong with you! You're famous!” a Junior named Sam Gronefeld blurts out.
“Famous?” I repeat. “Why am I famous? I haven't done anything.”
“Nineteen-Ninety-Eight Kansas All-State Ultimate MVP ring a bell? You're a legend to some of these boys. Why, you're a celebrity! They would die to shake your hand!” Coach informs me. My eyes widen.
“Well, I am surprised. This is most unexpected. You are all very kind,” I thank everyone.
“Well boys, I think we found our team captain!” Coach yells. From the crowd around me comes a chorus of cheers and applause. I feel myself being hoisted onto shoulders.
“Guys, guys!” I remind them, “We can celebrate after we win! Let's have some tryouts first!”
By the afternoon, our team is whittled down to twenty players. All of the Juniors and Seniors made it, as well as four Sophomores, but Douglas Patton and I are the only Freshmen who make the team. I don't mind. Out of everyone who did make it, I thought Doug was the one who deserved it. Not only could he launch the disc, but he was nimble and tall, and this allowed him to be flexible playing defense and offense. I could tell that he was going to be a key part of this team, not to say that the other twenty-nine players wouldn't.
YOU ARE READING
Kansas Summer
EspiritualEveryone wants a perfect love story, although we find that it's impossible at times. Colin King and Jenna Jackson believe they have written the best one of all. However, their faith in their relationship is sheltered by the small Kansas town they...
