We all know this. The older we get the more mistakes we make. (And there are plenty of friends and family willing to point them out!) I made one a couple of weeks ago that got recorded in front of plenty of witnesses.

Ultimate Frisbee is a team game that seems to be making its way into high school sports programs. The game is unique, at least in my mind, because of its focus on self-officiating. From its beginnings in the counterculture of the 1960s, the game has resisted empowering any referee with rule enforcement.

There are no referees or umpires or any other legislative folks. The players call their own fouls and dispute it only when they believe it did not occur. Beyond that feature, the game appears similar to other games as it seems to have evolved from concepts in American football, basketball and soccer.

Ultimate Frisbee is played with seven players on each team on a field otherwise used by soccer or American football. There are “handlers” and “cutters.” The handlers’ task is to distribute the disc forward and provide easy receiving options for “cutters.”

“Cutters” are the players positioned downfield, whose job is usually to progress the disc down the field to score goals by catching the disc in the end zone.

The games are usually 90 minutes long with a halftime break and consultation with coaches. Each point begins with the two teams starting in opposite end zones. The team who scored the previous point are now on defense and the teams change end zones. This provides an apparent break in the action which to the uninformed looks like halftime. Thus, my error.

BJ and I traveled to Seattle to attend our grandson’s Ultimate game recently. Unfortunately, we arrived late so we surveyed the field looking to join our daughter cheering for our grandson’s team. We ended up on the wrong side of the field but located our daughter on the other side.

With a point being scored and the subsequent break in the action, with my camp chair under my arm, I proceeded to amble across the field followed by a slower ambling BJ. As we casually crossed mid-field, we absorbed some pointed comments from players and fans about holding up the game.

We did not know what they meant until we arrived on the other side and became informed. Adding longer lasting insult to my mistake, it turns out that one of the fans was recording the whole game and thus has distributed a permanent video of our trek across the field.

I suspect it will be great entertainment for family gatherings. In a paraphrase of a Mark Twain observation, I would posit that “nothing makes a good story more embarrassing than actual evidence.”

Love a curmudgeon, and have a great week!

ned@ptleader.com