Preying Manti Travel to Versailles for Tournament

We looked out the window to long stretches of concrete and orange cones. We counted rest stops and gloried in cornfields and cowsheds. We peed into frozen toilet seats, read multi-colored graffiti off pocked walls and just once attempted to break into a flavored condom vending machine, but the dispenser was padlocked and rusted shut. We were in Versailles (ver-SAY-uhlz), Ohio drinking 70-cent coffees and chit-chatting with waitresses our age and friendly.
For us, the Preying Manti, Oberlin’s women’s ultimate frisbee team, the morning had started cold and gray, but as we passed strip malls and small towns, the sun began to shine. And the American flags got bigger. Ranging from computer print-outs taped in windows and bigger flags waving over front yards, to finally, a 20 foot high triumph of Christmas lights, the stars and stripes were flying. Even a few cars were sporting red, white and blue.
The day began with a real country breakfast. After having asked a guy at the gas station where we could eat (“Eat?” he asked with a doubtful look), we found the place. Straight out of the ’50’s with a swivel stool counter, booth seats and brown vinyl on all the chairs. Our waitress, nice and even keen to the in-town frisbee tournament was our first taste of pre-game luck. “You need something to eat if you’re going to be out there throwing discs all day,” she told my vegan teammate, giving her a doughnut on the house.
As we left, three elderly men came in, talking eagerly about surgical encounters. Even the waiters at the restaurant knew everyone’s name.
The tournament did not share that cozy charm. People had come from all over Ohio to play frisbee. And that was what we did, for five straight hours. Never mind that we won a game through forfeit and the wind was sending every throw off its course — it was sunny and we appreciated a reprieve from the Oberlin rain. By the time we left, beer happy and sore muscled, we had met a few people, sung a few songs and most of all, experienced Ohio country.
Throughout the day we split frisbee-playing with other activities such as song-writing and skit-production. We did a side-splitting rendition of a pizzeria making a pizza (using the team as ingredients), and rewrote the newest Sugar Ray song “All the crazy throws and hucks, All the times that I said fuck, All the times that I got stuck, It’s gone in the end-zone.” It’s frisbee tradition to do a little performance for the other teams after the games, but not all the other clubs followed Oberlin’s lead. Our energetic style won hands-down.
Another thing we definitely excel at is uniforms. No frisbee skirt has ever shimmered more in the mid-day sun than ours did, you could even see them reflected on the grass. And a dozen times that day confused opposition could be heard saying, “I’ve got the one in the red skirt.” “They’re all wearing red skirts!” Which wasn’t even true, we also had lime green and silver represented in the lineup.
With only three subs all day, by the end of the fourth game we were ready to go home. Some of us had gotten up as early as four that morning, and all we wanted was a stop at Taco Bell and sleep.
On the way home we were like horses going back to the stables –– pedal to the metal the entire way. We never went under 70 unless it was to slow to a roll so someone could pee out the window. We made it in a record time of a little over two and a half hours, and went our separate ways. Even though we had been away for less than a day, everyone was happy to be back at Oberlin. The only exception was our captain, who stayed at the tournament the second day to watch.
The frisbee-player’s dedication is awe-inspiring. To see them run around on the field, you would think there was a million dollars on the outcome. But frisbee isn’t about money, it’s about love of the game.

First-year Jessy Bradish is a member of the women’s frisbee team.