How the Frisbee got stuck in my head

You might have seen Ultimate Frisbee players over at Abellana Sports Complex some afternoons. Or at the Family Park in Banilad in their constant search for better grass for their soccer-shoed feet. The Nalgene water bottles. The thousand-peso Frisbee discs. Yes, that’s them.

Like proverbial Frisbee players with the same stamped enthusiasm and mischief, they reminded me of the Dumaguete players of my Silliman University days whose love for the sport took me an entire year to figure out.

What, after all, could be the drawing power of a bunch of sweaty guys and girls throwing flying plates around, and how could it change my life?

If it weren’t for the little details that stuck to my stubborn brain, I wouldn’t have spent all this mental energy. But consider these facts: they were there near the amphitheater, in increasing numbers, every day, rain or shine, to practice hammers, forehands and backhands and speed passes, strategic plays, ad infinitum.


Or imagine how the players’ bonding, regardless of which team they played for, went beyond the grassy fields where they played. Their love for nature and outdoor sports spilled over to mountain hiking trips, beach outings and drinking sessions.

I’ve been curious about “the draw” ever since then. But I finally got it when I watched an actual tournament just last March here in Cebu.

The “Ultimo Abril” tournament started around 7am on a Friday, joined by officially Cebu, Manila , Davao and Iligan teams.

Unofficially though, it was just a mix of people who loved the sport and became friends with the “rival” teams. Two young Boracay Dragons (one of the best teams in the country) played for Dumaguete’s Team Extreme. And some Cebuanos were playing for Manila Roaches.


The game itself was easy to understand. A non-contact sport similar to football (because of the goal lines/end zones) and soccer (because of the passing of the Frisbee), there were seven players, male or female, per team. They all ran and passed, in all spurts of flexibility, strength and teamwork, just to get the Frisbee to a teammate standing in the end zone of the other team.

In between these non-stop, often simultaneous games on two fields, I could hear players shouting, “Oy! Ang spirit! Ang spirit!” in cases of near-arguments and heated tempers.


When I asked JJ Orden of the Dumaguete Cuernos de Negros team, he explained the code of conduct that set Ultimate Frisbee apart from any other competitive sport: The Spirit of the Game.

I initially laughed when I heard that, but then I realized with a jolt. There were no referees for the entire tournament.

“The Spirit of the Game is basically having fun and playing fair. If I committed a foul, I’ll call it. And similarly, I put my trust in other teams to call their own fouls and be responsible and honest. After all, that’s what’s expected of everyone playing Ultimate Frisbee,” Orden said.

I just kept quiet and stared into the bright, noontime field where the Manila team left the locker room and played an entire game wearing only diapers as a joke.


This sport was cool. And heartwarming. And fun. Who wouldn’t with a Socials Night at Outpost in Lahug filled with giddy drunken laughs from all teams, tall glasses of beer as trophies, and dance showdowns till 3am?

What started in 1968 as a new sport called Frisbee Football (developed as a gag by a Columbia High School student paper and council in New Jersey ) has become “the ultimate sports experience,” as said then by its proponent Joel Silver.

And guess what? That gag sport is now being played by 42 countries, with government-subsidized programs in Sweden , Norway and Japan . In the Philippines , with its supervising body called the Philippine Ultimate Association, there are two annual international tournaments: the Asian Beach Ultimate Tournament held every March, and the Manila Spirits International Ultimate Tournament every November.

A few days ago, I forced my terminally uncoordinated and non-athletic self to pick up a Frisbee and throw it somewhat unsteadily to a friend. It landed way past her, way over to the left. Now if only I could play this ultimate sport, then I’d be golden.

*published in Sun Star Weekend May 24, 2008.