One Of Those Days 
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It was one of those typical Saturdays at a spring tournament.
It was cold, muddy, windy, and I'm still nursing a hangover
from drinking and chasing skirts all night long.  We were all
ready to call it a day, but we had one game left that you have
to play or else against one of those insignificant teams.  We
suggested a game to 3, then one to 7, but they insisted on
their right to a game to 15.  After delaying as much as
possible, we lined up, only to have them start a big group
cheer that they hoped we could join.  We impolitely refused,
and the play started.  On the first play, one of their
"better" players half- stumbles, half-lays out into a disc for
a stuff and score, and their side erupts.  He doesn't
celebrate or anything (of course that would be "wrong"), but
is happy nonetheless.  You could just tell he would rather be
playing in his bare feet, and you KNOW he didn't vote for
Bush.  Next point, he lines up against me, and sprints down
just in time for me to burp out the still-warm gun into his
face.  That move just sealed our burgeoning friendship.  He
gets even more psyched, and I'm just laughing at him.  I let
the disc move halfway down the field without making a serious
cut, so he thinks he's shutting me down.  I finally make a cut
for a throw, baiting him just enough so he lays out into a
puddle.  I hold on to the disc only long enough to show it to
him for a second, then give and go.  After I catch it, I wind
up for the big backhand, knowing Old Doofus has finally caught
up.  FAKE, and Doofus lays out into another puddle.  By this
time our boys are back to life and want to follow this thing
to its natural conclusion, so I'm allowed to catch every other
pass.  Eventually, I get a floater in the end zone and make
him jump and miss and hit the mud one final time.  He's
completely spent, lying face down, and the last thing he
expects is to be splattered even more by a disc being spiked
into the mud inches from his head, but sure enough, there it
is.  The humiliation on his face afterwards is the reason I
play ultimate.  Oh, if all those muddy games went like that.