Writer/Editor: Hazard Additional Proofreading: Hurley, Famelton
A little different than usual, I tried writing a very player-focused retrospective of my time at Nationals. It's not something I've seen a lot of before. Since I played in open it is more open-centric - I'm very happy to publish other people's blogs as well.
UK Ultimate Nationals is the pinnacle of Ultimate in the UK. It is supposed to be the most elite, competitive, and prestigious tournament you can compete at domestically.
It doesn’t always feel like that though. If you have both the luck and the skill, you can earn yourself a place on a high-level team that qualifies almost every year. It can start to feel a bit more routine – another stepping point in the season. It can feel safe.
For many teams, however, Nationals is still the peak. Nowadays, 5 or 6 teams in each division can book time off work early. Those final 2 or 3 slots? They can be fiercely competitive. And making the tournament means everything to those teams.
In 2013, in my second year of Uni (please don’t calculate my age here), I managed to make the jump onto one of those safe teams – in fact, one that had its sights set on Euros. It was stressful. It was tense. It was my first ever Nationals. I dropped the first disc thrown to me and then missed a D in my first point. Things improved from there, thankfully.
From 2014-2018, a combination of the Open division having 16 teams and the Mixed division not having qualifiers meant I always felt like I was in one of the safe teams. We would qualify, we would go. Nationals was a stepping stone in the season. Sometimes to Euros, sometimes not, but always a guarantee in and of itself.
Then I was in the wilderness. In 2019 I took a “year off” to focus on finishing my Ph.D. In 2020 I was celebrating having acquired my Ph.D. and I’m sure some other things happened too.
In 2021, I found I was no longer in one of the safe teams. In fact, being honest, my team (Oxford) didn’t expect to qualify at all. We had to go through a grueling fixture list and travel many miles for only two games at a time…but we made it. I think the 2021 Nationals will always be its own thing, but for me it gave me flashbacks to my first year. It felt like an elite tournament in its own right. It didn’t lead to anything. It was just, well, Nationals.
Then, a couple of years out. I had moved away from Oxford (who continued to qualify in my absence) and moved back to my hometown. My Yorkshire-based open team had narrowly missed out twice, and I was starting to feel like my window might have passed.
I went along to support one year and got to commentate another. I do recommend going to Nationals just to watch if you can, it’s an exciting experience. And I love commentating. Maybe y’all even like hearing me. But I missed being on the field.
Then, this year. Our team prepared a little bit better, we had some promising tournament results, and we had almost everyone free on the qualifying weekend. After a tense 15-11 win against Manchester, we made it. My team was going to Nationals, and I was getting to go with them.
Our first game was against European champions Clapham. I was called up as emergency spirit captain due to our designated captain being unable to make the first game, so I went to shake hands and do what I could for the side. You could tell there were a lot of nerves on our team – for many it was their first ever time on this stage. We’d played good teams before, but here, everyone would be watching and checking to see how we did on the schedule. We had to prove we weren’t here by accident.
I helped by scoring the first point from a sketchy forehand. Clapham responded. We responded back. At some point Clapham got a break, but we also got one of our own (making them take a timeout!). Half was 5-8 to them, but very respectable. We weren’t quite going blow-for-blow but we’d still got at least a few in good licks in. They gathered a bit more momentum to finish up at 7-15, but honestly, that was still closer than we would have hoped before the game. In the huddle I give the spirit speech, and afterwards we all breathe a sigh of relief. We survived Clapham.
Then, there’s the other part of Nationals. Being surrounded by all the other elite teams and hearing all the gossip from around the fields. We watch Horizon - our regional Women’s-team counterpart - beat SYC in sudden death (and vicariously live through their success). Then one field over we see SMOG’s women’s team beat eventual-champions Bristol, also in sudden death. We hear that the SMOG open team almost beat last year’s champions Chevron. (They were 14-13 up? And lost 14-15?). Underdog stories are felt by everyone, and any tales of dominance give everyone trepidation.
One story we hear? Our next opponents (SMASH’D) have caused an upset. They’ve beaten former finalists Alba, and now we must face them. We’re also on the far away pitch (like, a 2-minute walk at most), and so feel disconnected from everyone else. We put our fears behind us, and we go for it. And honestly? We really go for it. We match them closely, running as hard as they do, and pulling off the occasional highlight play (with them doing the same). We’re 11-10 up, but we can’t see it out, ending up 13-15.
Feeling the high of a close game but the sadness of a loss, we head back. There aren’t as many upsets occurring now, and the day doesn’t have long left. The lower ranked teams tend to have slightly less depth and slightly fewer players, meaning the bigger teams win the games they are supposed to. I catch up with an old friend and we talk of facing each other in Uni many years ago.
We fall to a slightly disappointing loss in our final game, but there’s enough big moments in the first day that we can hang onto and be proud of. Honestly, that final game was probably the one I played best in, but a lot of how you feel is how the team feels. I did some nice hucks though, and probably mention it too much.
We get rejected from Spoons, and then go have Wagamamas while watching England play in the Euros on a phone propped up against the soy sauce. The server joins us to watch the penalty shoot-out. England win, and we are all happy except the Scot and the Scouse in our group, but they don’t count. We go back our scout hut to play board games and fall asleep on air beds like the athletes we are.
Why do Sunday mornings exist? Why do we play this sport? I feel like my muscles are able to creek, which is not a thing that flesh should do. Breakfast is chocolate milk and porridge and regret. We technically turn up to the field. By the second half, we manage to turn up to the game. Turns out Bristol played the full game which feels a little unsporting – although they have good vibes and so we’re only a little annoyed at them.
We’re playing in the low bracket. We’re playing for pride. But no one is paying attention to us now – it’s all about the actual semi-finals happening around us. Both women’s semi-finals are upsets. Both open and mixed semi-finals are won a little bit too dominatingly by the favourites, as if letting us know they are in a tier above us. I mean, even if they’re right, it feels mean.
Final game. Final chance to win. We don’t. But, despite going down initially, we go on a big run to make the final score respectable (10-12). We also had a chance to take it to sudden death. We’re still so proud of how we’ve done. I’m happy I’ve played well, and even happier that three of the Uni players I coached had made the team and then played well too. Maybe we’ll do better next year.
Maybe next year.
Maybe, if there is a next year?
This could have been our shot. We aren’t a safe team. Some players will be taken by bigger clubs, some will move away. Others might be tempted in though – a regional team that performs well? We could have done enough to draw some players back. I might have to move again.
Nationals continues, as it always does. We walk over to see the open final. It’s the old battle – Clapham vs Chevron. Bristol women are wearing gold medals on the sideline, their earlier loss to SMOG forgotten. Deep Space and Reading players are milling around waiting for their warm ups to start. Clapham win back their title, but Chevron don’t make it easy. They only get one break against Clapham though, which is the same as us.
We have to leave before the mixed final, but we watch some of it on our phones in the car. It’s not the same. The noise, the atmosphere, the sideline chatter, the catch ups. It’s only the match on the screen.
I get a train as soon as I get home. I have to go to a conference and finish my presentation before I get there. I start writing this article as a way to take a break. I don’t want to leave Nationals just yet, and I know the memory will fade if I wait too long. I’m hoping these words will preserve it. And not just the Nationals of who won, who was best.
It is the story of every team there. The safe ones. The underdogs. It is the victors and it is the losers. Those that fall and those that rise. It is the players within the teams and it is the teams and it is the whole thing.
I hope I get to play again.
