Chapter 1
I grew up in Marloborough CT. My town was a small town - probably mostly agricultural in the past but grown up into an outskirt type of subburb by the time I was old enough to care. The adjacent two towns were similar. To give you an idea, it took kids from all three of the towns to fill up our single high school.
Well, I guess looking back it was a fairly sheltered existence in Marlborough. I was 17 before I'd ever attended a big concert (Allman Brothers). I was probably the same age when I first heard of the Grateful Dead. I was a junior or senior in high school before I drank my first beer - as is the custom in New England, this occurred in the woods.
We spent a ton of time playing the "traditional" sports and doing extra curricular activities of various types. I spent about 3 hours per day playing hoops, so kicking a bean bag around never really seemed like a thing to try. Never did "hacky sack" ever even cross our minds.
During senior year they had this 'cutting edge' computer program that would tell each kid the colleges he should apply to. I filled out the questionaire taking special care to insert my unique world perspective in each entry. I was convinced my list of schools would be exotic and wonderful....
Like everyone else (except that kid Dave who wen to Duke and is now a brain surgeon) my list spit out a bunch of expected results. Lafayette, UCONN, Drexel, RIT, Susquehanna etc.
Well, as soon as I saw a name I couldn't pronounce (Susquehanna) it was a definite on my list of places to visit. And visit we did. Me and the folks in the family mini-van. We hit 7 schools over a few weekends. It was torture. If you haven't been there, take my word for it. If you have, you can feel my pain.
Susquehanna is basically Marlborough. Small, somewhat rural, somewhat suburban. Safe feeling. Easy to digest for a kid like me. Campus was nice and green and there seemed to be plenty of pretty girls. Great. This is the one. So I decided to attend S.U.
Freshman year, I was initially paired up with 2 other guys (Chuck and Greg) that were planning on trying out for the basketball team. [Quick aside: Let me give you some advice - if you're like me and feel like extending your basketball career is a good factor in picking a school, think again. Being a great highschool hoops player in a town like Marlborough equipped me to play Division 3 at best. But in the end, there's no scholarship money for D3 and you still have to practice as hard as the guys on teams that are sponsored by Nike.] Anyhow, Chuck and Greg and I spent some time on the phone before arriving on campus - this was part of the Susquehanna-endorsed ice breaking routine for incoming Frosh. From the get-go it was painfully clear that we were not all on the same page. I arrived for my first day to hear rap music blasting out of my new room at ungodly levels. I mean, I have nothing against rap - in fact I like rap music - but it it's loud enough to blow a stack of papers off your desk, it's too loud in my opinion. Great. This will be an interesting year.
Within weeks, I knew I wasn't going to stick it out with the basketball team. Though I made the team, I could tell that I wasn't on the same level as the best players on the team. I could also tell that my interest in that sort of organized sport had waned quite a bit since my senior year of highschool when "the team" was my life. Midway through one practice, and near tears, I told Coach Marcinek (a little beedy eyed man if you're curious) that I'd be quitting. He did the nice thing by acting sympathetic. But I could tell he was OK with the decision... He'd seen countless one-time high school stars find the going too tough at the next level (even if the next level was a small D3!!! ha ha) and was used to my schpeel.
Looking back, I think the "feel" of the people on the team - especially my awful roomates and their meat head attitudes - was a big part of the decision to stop playing hoops. I'd also started smoking cigarettes and enjoying partying like the college kid that I was. I was a bit more introspective or something. Whatever it was, basketball felt wrong.
I launched myself into hiking, frisbee, intramurals, partying.. anything (but NOT fraternities) in an attempt to meet friends I could relate to. Before the end of my first semester, I found a group of buddies to call my own. They were similarly misguided and similarly at risk of failing out of school because of the "party like a college kid" mentality. They were perfect! Jamie, Joey, Geoffrey (pronouced Jeffrey.. this kid was bad ass despite the wussy name), Ben, Steve, me.
We hung out all the time. We watched The Wall, listened to Phish, got in trouble, etc. You know the drill. By winter break, we were the best of friends. Steve and I in particular hit it off and decided to room together in the spring term. It was settled.
Once Steve and I moved in together we found that we both were sports freaks more than the rest of our buddies. We couldn't pass up a game of frisbee or a bike ride. We played intramural sports here and there (though our brief part of the softball league still probably causes nightmares for the administration... apparently beer balls in the center of campus during family visit week is a bad thing.. huh.. go figure)
west of philly - bob
west of philly - bob
Last edited by Rieferman on 01 Feb 2010 06:34, edited 24 times in total.
Bob R.
yeah, so this is going to be a little boring while I catch up the history. It's something I've been wanting to write down for awhile. And since I'm a short timer at work til next week, I finally wrote it down. I'll paste a chapter per day for the next couple days. Then I'll just get back into normal bloggy types of activities. Thanks for reading.
Bob R.
Chapter 2:
Well, it wasn't long until Steve and I bumped into our first hack circle. It was in front of Smith Hall with a bunch of guys that were in a similar (yet separate) group as my own. The one guy's name was Carl. He was genuinely cool. It was sunny out, springtime. I guess this was 1995. Carl was the best of his bunch but they all sucked pretty bad. We didn't know any different though so it was alright by us. We jumped in and proceeded to be just as horrible as they were. But there was an immediate CLICK in my mind. I was hooked.
After awhile the guys were through playing and they headed off to the cafeteria or wherever, but Carl let me hang onto his guat hack. Rainbow colors, pancake shape.. It was a beauty. Me and Steve continued to obsess over the game for hours that night. By the end of the night we were kicking 10+ times consistently and getting half-decent passes back and forth occasionally. Lots of one-footed kicking strings, but we didn't care. We were beating gravity in small doses!
Things went on and off again like this for the rest of the school year. By summer break we could both do toe stalls on both feet and could do a jester or a neck catch. Sometimes even a shoulder catch!! Good year, time to go home and hang with my old buddies.
Back in Marlborough it wasn't long until I related the hacky sack fun to my back-home friends.. "No way! Wait til you see Jay!! He's the best we've ever seen!!!!" Nice.. It's on. Let's meet this Jay kid.. He won't even know what hit him when he sees me bust toe stall > toe stall > mouth grab. Yeah biatch.
Well, it turns out that Jay had gotten a "foot buck" (remember those???) with his hack sack purchase and had gotten several issues of Footbag World Magazine. He was particularly smitten with the 'shredder underground' section (is that the right name?). I think Rippin was writing that at the time. All the names were unfamiliar to me then. In any case, from the magazine he ultimately found out about Kenny's Tricks of the Trade video and had purchased a copy. After getting that, he learned about Juice 32 panel footbags and Rod Laver sneakers. He got those too. He even did the lacing modifications!!
When I met Jay he could clipper stall on both sides, do around the worlds both directions with both feet, do a double ATW on his strong side, pinchers, and... wait til you hear this.. AND... he could do 10+ consecutive spinning flying butterflies at will. Name 5 players today that can do that. You can probably do it but it wasn't an easy list to create right? Well, in 1995 that was pretty bad ass for a player that had never met another player in person and didn't have the internet to help him. Jay was immediately my hero.
I couldn't get enough. I was playing non-stop. My Sipa Sipa's and Juice's were on the way. I borrowed hacks from Jay. We played during the day and then would get together with the larger group at night. We would play at the "Moose". The Moose is like a Lions Club or a Veterans Club. Well, they didn't care if we used their parking lights and they didn't bother us for smoking cigarettes (errrr) and drinking the occasional beer.
They even let us play some Dead tunes out the window of our cars. Rob was another guy that played with us and his specialty was "shooting the moon". This meant that someone would boot the bag as high as possible and somehow Rob would get under it and save it. He'd save the full hack!! Oh YEAH!! Full hacks were the bomb diggity for sure. Everyone had their specialty. Jay was awesome, I never dropped it, Rob could shoot the moon, Jon could do the 'funky chicken' (which is still a hilarious move) etc. etc. Well, Dave (Rob's little brother) sucked actually. But he was fun to chill with so we let him hang out.
All summer long went like this. Lifeguard at day, Moose and Hack at night. Some days we even played Takraw (which we called Buka after the Buka Ball brand) to switch it up. But it was always kicking that summer. I swear I learned my first 20 tricks in the first month that we played - things came pretty easily at first. I was able to link at least a trick or two by the end of the summer.
Sigh..... Then the summer ended.
Well, it wasn't long until Steve and I bumped into our first hack circle. It was in front of Smith Hall with a bunch of guys that were in a similar (yet separate) group as my own. The one guy's name was Carl. He was genuinely cool. It was sunny out, springtime. I guess this was 1995. Carl was the best of his bunch but they all sucked pretty bad. We didn't know any different though so it was alright by us. We jumped in and proceeded to be just as horrible as they were. But there was an immediate CLICK in my mind. I was hooked.
After awhile the guys were through playing and they headed off to the cafeteria or wherever, but Carl let me hang onto his guat hack. Rainbow colors, pancake shape.. It was a beauty. Me and Steve continued to obsess over the game for hours that night. By the end of the night we were kicking 10+ times consistently and getting half-decent passes back and forth occasionally. Lots of one-footed kicking strings, but we didn't care. We were beating gravity in small doses!
Things went on and off again like this for the rest of the school year. By summer break we could both do toe stalls on both feet and could do a jester or a neck catch. Sometimes even a shoulder catch!! Good year, time to go home and hang with my old buddies.
Back in Marlborough it wasn't long until I related the hacky sack fun to my back-home friends.. "No way! Wait til you see Jay!! He's the best we've ever seen!!!!" Nice.. It's on. Let's meet this Jay kid.. He won't even know what hit him when he sees me bust toe stall > toe stall > mouth grab. Yeah biatch.
Well, it turns out that Jay had gotten a "foot buck" (remember those???) with his hack sack purchase and had gotten several issues of Footbag World Magazine. He was particularly smitten with the 'shredder underground' section (is that the right name?). I think Rippin was writing that at the time. All the names were unfamiliar to me then. In any case, from the magazine he ultimately found out about Kenny's Tricks of the Trade video and had purchased a copy. After getting that, he learned about Juice 32 panel footbags and Rod Laver sneakers. He got those too. He even did the lacing modifications!!
When I met Jay he could clipper stall on both sides, do around the worlds both directions with both feet, do a double ATW on his strong side, pinchers, and... wait til you hear this.. AND... he could do 10+ consecutive spinning flying butterflies at will. Name 5 players today that can do that. You can probably do it but it wasn't an easy list to create right? Well, in 1995 that was pretty bad ass for a player that had never met another player in person and didn't have the internet to help him. Jay was immediately my hero.
I couldn't get enough. I was playing non-stop. My Sipa Sipa's and Juice's were on the way. I borrowed hacks from Jay. We played during the day and then would get together with the larger group at night. We would play at the "Moose". The Moose is like a Lions Club or a Veterans Club. Well, they didn't care if we used their parking lights and they didn't bother us for smoking cigarettes (errrr) and drinking the occasional beer.
They even let us play some Dead tunes out the window of our cars. Rob was another guy that played with us and his specialty was "shooting the moon". This meant that someone would boot the bag as high as possible and somehow Rob would get under it and save it. He'd save the full hack!! Oh YEAH!! Full hacks were the bomb diggity for sure. Everyone had their specialty. Jay was awesome, I never dropped it, Rob could shoot the moon, Jon could do the 'funky chicken' (which is still a hilarious move) etc. etc. Well, Dave (Rob's little brother) sucked actually. But he was fun to chill with so we let him hang out.
All summer long went like this. Lifeguard at day, Moose and Hack at night. Some days we even played Takraw (which we called Buka after the Buka Ball brand) to switch it up. But it was always kicking that summer. I swear I learned my first 20 tricks in the first month that we played - things came pretty easily at first. I was able to link at least a trick or two by the end of the summer.
Sigh..... Then the summer ended.
Last edited by Rieferman on 22 Mar 2006 05:29, edited 1 time in total.
Bob R.
Session note: I had the best session in memory last night at the YMCA. Compared to what others can do, it wasn't any big deal, but compared to my own abilities I was pretty pumped.
First, I just felt energetic and strong. I think since the stress of the job decision is over I just feel better. I also ate my energy food (granola and energy drink) 2 hours ahead of time instead of 1/2 hour ahead of time. That really seemed to weigh me down less.
Then, I was hitting all my weakside stuff I've been working on. Specifically, I was hitting 5-6 different weakside pixie tricks. And weakside blur was good to go. Weakside spins were there too.
Also, string length was better than it's been since my return. I'd go for a run every 3rd turn or so and was generally hitting a solid 10-15 tricks. No BOP really, just good shred. An example of a run went something like: Pixie Legover > Pixie ss legover > Smear > Pixie Btfly > Ripwalk > infinity > spin clip etc. Nice strong openings, catch breath, keep going (except the "keep going" part needs to get better still)
Atomic is finally coming along. Hit atomic mirage on one side and atomic ss mirage (I think that's "tap") in the same run.
Hit or footed some triples - all strong side only for now.. Pixie DLO solid midrun. Pixie paradon footed several times. Footed blurry DLO. I don't know where flurry has gone because it wasn't even close.
Overall shredded hard for 1 hour 45 minutes and went home to watch American Idol. Katherine McPhee is my new pretend girlfriend.
edit: since Jan 1st I'm down about 17 pounds so far. Mostly just less beer and eating dinner earlier.
First, I just felt energetic and strong. I think since the stress of the job decision is over I just feel better. I also ate my energy food (granola and energy drink) 2 hours ahead of time instead of 1/2 hour ahead of time. That really seemed to weigh me down less.
Then, I was hitting all my weakside stuff I've been working on. Specifically, I was hitting 5-6 different weakside pixie tricks. And weakside blur was good to go. Weakside spins were there too.
Also, string length was better than it's been since my return. I'd go for a run every 3rd turn or so and was generally hitting a solid 10-15 tricks. No BOP really, just good shred. An example of a run went something like: Pixie Legover > Pixie ss legover > Smear > Pixie Btfly > Ripwalk > infinity > spin clip etc. Nice strong openings, catch breath, keep going (except the "keep going" part needs to get better still)
Atomic is finally coming along. Hit atomic mirage on one side and atomic ss mirage (I think that's "tap") in the same run.
Hit or footed some triples - all strong side only for now.. Pixie DLO solid midrun. Pixie paradon footed several times. Footed blurry DLO. I don't know where flurry has gone because it wasn't even close.
Overall shredded hard for 1 hour 45 minutes and went home to watch American Idol. Katherine McPhee is my new pretend girlfriend.
edit: since Jan 1st I'm down about 17 pounds so far. Mostly just less beer and eating dinner earlier.
Bob R.
Chapter 3
Off to sophmore year. Will go a little quicker here else this thing will be 30 pages long.
Back at SU. This year, my best friend from high school (Pat, aka Schmaph) decided to attend with me. We worked it out so that we were next door neighbors in Reed Hall. We also managed to steal a few pieces of dorm furniture from the lounges so we had really cool/comfy hang out rooms. But that's another story.
Early on in the year we met Rory and Eddie (can't remember his real name but he looked like the lead singer from Pearl Jam so we called him Eddie). We played lots of hack and I held little Buka tournaments (really excuses to sneak beer into the center of campus again) to get people interested in playing with us. By this time I was linking simple tricks like legovers and mirages. I think I may have been able to hit DLO on my strong side. I didn't know about "guiltless" and "tiltless" but I think I was tiltless by then. I was definitely the best player I'd ever met by then, better than Jay even. It was good times.
Oh, I almost forgot... We made a game up that we called "tennis hack" which involved kicking back and forth across a crack in the cement. There were rules on how you could serve and score points. Basically, it was 4-square but one-on-one. Funny.
Anyhow, partway into 1st semester Brian moves in across the hall from me. So it's Brian, me, Schmaph... aka Bad News. We proceed to generally raise hell and get in lots of trouble. We get busted for having kegs in our room.. blah blah blah. You know the routine. Interestingly, with each offense we had to go see the campus drug and alcohol counselor. He was born on the same day as Jerry Garcia and except for the fact that he was 6'5" tall he *looked* just like Jerry. It was nuts. White hair, bushy beard, glasses. The whole thing. And he was a huge Dead fan. He'd toured all over the place too. I guess I'm saying that the punishment wasn't too bad because talking to him was always pretty fun! Soon enough though he let me know that the campus had had enough of our act and was going to kick us off campus. He advised us to move off instead of having that on our record. We did.
The place we rented was above a store on Main street in Selinsgrove. Just a short bike ride from campus and walking distance to all sorts of other things. We had a back yard just big enough for a fire pit, a hammock area, and a Buka net set. Then, our driveway was perfectly flat and well-paved for kicking. We spent that entire spring just kicking and partying and having good times. I OWNED Buka but had some competition from some of the guys. No change to my kicking skill level really.. just a little better at linking simple 2 adds.
Off to sophmore year. Will go a little quicker here else this thing will be 30 pages long.
Back at SU. This year, my best friend from high school (Pat, aka Schmaph) decided to attend with me. We worked it out so that we were next door neighbors in Reed Hall. We also managed to steal a few pieces of dorm furniture from the lounges so we had really cool/comfy hang out rooms. But that's another story.
Early on in the year we met Rory and Eddie (can't remember his real name but he looked like the lead singer from Pearl Jam so we called him Eddie). We played lots of hack and I held little Buka tournaments (really excuses to sneak beer into the center of campus again) to get people interested in playing with us. By this time I was linking simple tricks like legovers and mirages. I think I may have been able to hit DLO on my strong side. I didn't know about "guiltless" and "tiltless" but I think I was tiltless by then. I was definitely the best player I'd ever met by then, better than Jay even. It was good times.
Oh, I almost forgot... We made a game up that we called "tennis hack" which involved kicking back and forth across a crack in the cement. There were rules on how you could serve and score points. Basically, it was 4-square but one-on-one. Funny.
Anyhow, partway into 1st semester Brian moves in across the hall from me. So it's Brian, me, Schmaph... aka Bad News. We proceed to generally raise hell and get in lots of trouble. We get busted for having kegs in our room.. blah blah blah. You know the routine. Interestingly, with each offense we had to go see the campus drug and alcohol counselor. He was born on the same day as Jerry Garcia and except for the fact that he was 6'5" tall he *looked* just like Jerry. It was nuts. White hair, bushy beard, glasses. The whole thing. And he was a huge Dead fan. He'd toured all over the place too. I guess I'm saying that the punishment wasn't too bad because talking to him was always pretty fun! Soon enough though he let me know that the campus had had enough of our act and was going to kick us off campus. He advised us to move off instead of having that on our record. We did.
The place we rented was above a store on Main street in Selinsgrove. Just a short bike ride from campus and walking distance to all sorts of other things. We had a back yard just big enough for a fire pit, a hammock area, and a Buka net set. Then, our driveway was perfectly flat and well-paved for kicking. We spent that entire spring just kicking and partying and having good times. I OWNED Buka but had some competition from some of the guys. No change to my kicking skill level really.. just a little better at linking simple 2 adds.
Bob R.
Bonus.. two chapters in one day:
Chapter 3
That spring I also met Karla. She went to Bucknell University nearby. She was outgoing and we hit it off immediately.
I am not joking when I say that as of this point in time (it's 1997 if you've been following along) I had never sent an email and had never used the internet other than to look for books at the library. Well, Karla was more advanced than me I guess and she quickly found out that my hobby of kicking was taken more seriously by many. In fact, <gasp> there were even tournaments if you can believe it. She took care of figuring out the logistics and we decided to head to Harrisburg that summer to the Funtastik Summer Classic. We hung around the appartment kicking and chilling all summer just waiting for the big event.
August 20th, 1997 rolled around and we hopped into Karla's white Jeep Cheroke to make the 2 hour trip to the event. I know Schmaph was with us but that's all I can really remember.
[side note: I'll have to scan a picture from that weekend in so you can get an idea of what I looked like then, but this should help: Picture a taller Matt Cross with red hair. I was skinny as hell, buff from all the kicking/hiking/bike riding, and all decked out with long hair and hemp necklaces. I think Steal Your Face was hanging from the one hemp chain.]
When we pulled up to City Island my stomach began to flip flop a little. I was really excited about this. Also, I was seriously misguided. I really truly honestly for real felt that I was the BEST player on the planet. Let's review >> a hot combo for me was Toe > Toe > Legover > Legover > Mirage > Clipper > Dragonflyer. So yeah, NOT the best, but I **thought** I was. Who could blame me? To the people I played with, that combo was off the hook.
I walk up and the first thing I see is LOTS of hackers. Stomach says: "flip flop, flip flop.". Gulp. I decide right away that I'm better off playing on the fringes with Schmaph. I figured, I play with him every day, there's no reason to branch out and meet all these new players. Ha ha.. Have you ever noticed how new players go to events and play with the people they came with? Ha ha.. Anyhow, next thing I see it's the scariest looking man ever walking my way. Wait, now he's talking to me. Oh no!!!!!
It's Vince Bradley. aka the Grizzled Veteran.
Vince jumps into my little 2 man circle and Schmaph instantly bails out. Thanks Schmaph. Just me and this psycho killer (note: it turns out Vince is actually the gentlest nicest guy ever.. these are just my thoughts at the time). Vince is hitting blurry tricks and osis (which BLEW my mind) and spins. Holy crap. I'm sooooooooo NOT the best player on the planet afterall. I suck.
Not long after, I met Steve Goldberg. As is his way, he made me feel really welcome to draw me in so that we'd be buddies only so he could in years later drive me crazy with his sarcasm. But at this time I only saw nice Steve. And Sam Conlon was there and I thought she was a major hottie and hella good at kicking. Met Josh Penny and Dank and Sunil and Frank G. and Neil Payne. Had soooo much fun that I was coaxed into competing. I shredded to an Ani Difranco song (Fire Door) and had a decent fun little routine that I actually have on tape someplace somewhere. Check it out, I won novice doubles net!! I also beat Sunil.. ha ha.. that wouldn't happen ever again!!!
http://www.footbag.org/events/show/857881898
By the end of the weekend, Schmaph says to me "Bob.. your kicking has changed.. it looks like you have 'that thing' that those other players have. That sort of rhythm to your step." I was officially a freestyler.
Chapter 3
That spring I also met Karla. She went to Bucknell University nearby. She was outgoing and we hit it off immediately.
I am not joking when I say that as of this point in time (it's 1997 if you've been following along) I had never sent an email and had never used the internet other than to look for books at the library. Well, Karla was more advanced than me I guess and she quickly found out that my hobby of kicking was taken more seriously by many. In fact, <gasp> there were even tournaments if you can believe it. She took care of figuring out the logistics and we decided to head to Harrisburg that summer to the Funtastik Summer Classic. We hung around the appartment kicking and chilling all summer just waiting for the big event.
August 20th, 1997 rolled around and we hopped into Karla's white Jeep Cheroke to make the 2 hour trip to the event. I know Schmaph was with us but that's all I can really remember.
[side note: I'll have to scan a picture from that weekend in so you can get an idea of what I looked like then, but this should help: Picture a taller Matt Cross with red hair. I was skinny as hell, buff from all the kicking/hiking/bike riding, and all decked out with long hair and hemp necklaces. I think Steal Your Face was hanging from the one hemp chain.]
When we pulled up to City Island my stomach began to flip flop a little. I was really excited about this. Also, I was seriously misguided. I really truly honestly for real felt that I was the BEST player on the planet. Let's review >> a hot combo for me was Toe > Toe > Legover > Legover > Mirage > Clipper > Dragonflyer. So yeah, NOT the best, but I **thought** I was. Who could blame me? To the people I played with, that combo was off the hook.
I walk up and the first thing I see is LOTS of hackers. Stomach says: "flip flop, flip flop.". Gulp. I decide right away that I'm better off playing on the fringes with Schmaph. I figured, I play with him every day, there's no reason to branch out and meet all these new players. Ha ha.. Have you ever noticed how new players go to events and play with the people they came with? Ha ha.. Anyhow, next thing I see it's the scariest looking man ever walking my way. Wait, now he's talking to me. Oh no!!!!!
It's Vince Bradley. aka the Grizzled Veteran.
Vince jumps into my little 2 man circle and Schmaph instantly bails out. Thanks Schmaph. Just me and this psycho killer (note: it turns out Vince is actually the gentlest nicest guy ever.. these are just my thoughts at the time). Vince is hitting blurry tricks and osis (which BLEW my mind) and spins. Holy crap. I'm sooooooooo NOT the best player on the planet afterall. I suck.
Not long after, I met Steve Goldberg. As is his way, he made me feel really welcome to draw me in so that we'd be buddies only so he could in years later drive me crazy with his sarcasm. But at this time I only saw nice Steve. And Sam Conlon was there and I thought she was a major hottie and hella good at kicking. Met Josh Penny and Dank and Sunil and Frank G. and Neil Payne. Had soooo much fun that I was coaxed into competing. I shredded to an Ani Difranco song (Fire Door) and had a decent fun little routine that I actually have on tape someplace somewhere. Check it out, I won novice doubles net!! I also beat Sunil.. ha ha.. that wouldn't happen ever again!!!
http://www.footbag.org/events/show/857881898
By the end of the weekend, Schmaph says to me "Bob.. your kicking has changed.. it looks like you have 'that thing' that those other players have. That sort of rhythm to your step." I was officially a freestyler.
Bob R.
Chapter 4
The next few years went pretty much like this until I reached senior year. I would go to East Coasts and Funtastiks and go play with the NYFA guys here and there. I even went to 1998 Worlds in Montreal (I have that right?) and placed 8th in Intermediate routines. I already was getting twinges/feelings/doubts because the other players were hitting harder tricks that I was really having trouble with, but somehow I did OK in circles with people. I think the flowy thing helped me out, but I definitely wasn't on a difficulty level with everyone else. I was part time guiltless or thereabouts. But I digress..
During senior year I decided that making my life decisions around footbag was probably a good way to go. After graduation I moved in with my folks near Pittsburgh (they'd moved from CT to Pitt while I was in school) and made plans to move to San Francisco. I had 7 or 8 job offers lined up and Steve G. had agreed to let me crash with him for a few weeks while I looked for an appartment. After a summer of life guarding and saving some cash, I packed up my car and started my trip across route 80 to sunny California! I'm on my way!!!.
I made it 12+ hours into my trip and I just couldn't shake a weird feeling that I was not doing the right thing. I really felt sick to my stomach. And my energy was completely sapped. I had to stop at a rest stop and splash water on my face to keep myself going. I mean, I should be pumped to move to California. What an adventure! Fun in the sun! But I wasn't pumped at all. I was bummed. I checked into a hotel for the night and called my parents. They told me to follow my heart.
The next morning I followed my heart and turned around and drove 12+ hours back home. It was so depressing. I had failed. What a coward!! But moving ahead wasn't the right decision either - I could just tell. I spent the next week drinking beers alone at my parents' house (they were on vacation) and calling friends for advice. Within a couple of months, I decided to take a crappy job at IKON in the Philadelphia area - Karla was living in the general area so I'd have someone to chill with. Off I went.
Well, Karla and I didn't last long. Shortly after moving to the area, I moved to Collegeville to be closer to work. Within weeks of that move, we were done. It was near the end of 1998 at this point. I was still kicking a little but not too seriously at the moment with all the changes. I didn't know at this point that people did drills and worked on both sides. I just figured raw talent carried everyone to the goal. I don't know, I guess I was just too absorbed in other things to examine this sport I thought was a lot of fun.
Around December 1998 I met Megan at work.. Megan and I have been married for almost 5 years now and have a little boy (Keegan) >> in other words, it became very clear very quickly why going to CA didn't feel right... I really think I was meant to find Megan. Call it cheezy, I don't care.
When spring time hit I started playing more and more again. I had this great yard and a nice flat spot to shred in. I could even shred in my bedroom sometimes. Josh Penny, Ethan Klein, and Bruce Dole did the bedroom shred with me once. Man I miss Ethan - he's such a cool guy. I think he's major surfer, guitar, webmaster guy now - that's cool. I still expect to bump into Bruce (aka "Body Add" Bruce or "The DolerCoaster") at any events I go to on the east coast because I think he's still into it.
I forget how I ended up bumping into Dave Sanchez, but it happened around this same time. This was the single most important event in my *serious* interest in footbag. Dave was/is a natural and he went from sorta shaky shred to solid guiltless in 1 week. Yes, 1 week. His whirls were great and deep and his stepping set would accidentally hit him in the face sometimes. He also had an amazing "not drop it" knack >> like even if the set sucked or he was falling over he could figure out a way to keep the bag up. Anyhow, this was also my first ego-clash... What I mean is that I think to some degree every freestyler that's not super deep into the scene relishes the feeling that "I'm an up and comer!! I could be the next big thing!!!". And it makes sense to feel this way because in most instances, you are playing only with people that are terrible at first so you look like a superstar in comparison. It then comes as a rude awakening when you meet the first player that improves faster than you and passes you right up. Well, this is what happened with Dave. One week I was better than him by a fair amount and was looking forward to keeping ahead of him.. Then that week he went and skooled and I didn't, and a week later he was kicking my ass (no punn intended). Crap. That was no fun. This is the first time I started to think seriously about skooling (which is a great thing) and also the first time I felt that dark competitive feeling that I would normally associate with more traditional sports (which isn't a good thing and we'll revisit this again later).
In any case, me and Dave got along so great in some respects and got on eachother's nerves in others. The good news there is that we somehow struck a balance over the years and I think that although we only hang out once or twice a year now, we're probably a more cohesive duo than ever. Sometimes less is more.
The next few years went pretty much like this until I reached senior year. I would go to East Coasts and Funtastiks and go play with the NYFA guys here and there. I even went to 1998 Worlds in Montreal (I have that right?) and placed 8th in Intermediate routines. I already was getting twinges/feelings/doubts because the other players were hitting harder tricks that I was really having trouble with, but somehow I did OK in circles with people. I think the flowy thing helped me out, but I definitely wasn't on a difficulty level with everyone else. I was part time guiltless or thereabouts. But I digress..
During senior year I decided that making my life decisions around footbag was probably a good way to go. After graduation I moved in with my folks near Pittsburgh (they'd moved from CT to Pitt while I was in school) and made plans to move to San Francisco. I had 7 or 8 job offers lined up and Steve G. had agreed to let me crash with him for a few weeks while I looked for an appartment. After a summer of life guarding and saving some cash, I packed up my car and started my trip across route 80 to sunny California! I'm on my way!!!.
I made it 12+ hours into my trip and I just couldn't shake a weird feeling that I was not doing the right thing. I really felt sick to my stomach. And my energy was completely sapped. I had to stop at a rest stop and splash water on my face to keep myself going. I mean, I should be pumped to move to California. What an adventure! Fun in the sun! But I wasn't pumped at all. I was bummed. I checked into a hotel for the night and called my parents. They told me to follow my heart.
The next morning I followed my heart and turned around and drove 12+ hours back home. It was so depressing. I had failed. What a coward!! But moving ahead wasn't the right decision either - I could just tell. I spent the next week drinking beers alone at my parents' house (they were on vacation) and calling friends for advice. Within a couple of months, I decided to take a crappy job at IKON in the Philadelphia area - Karla was living in the general area so I'd have someone to chill with. Off I went.
Well, Karla and I didn't last long. Shortly after moving to the area, I moved to Collegeville to be closer to work. Within weeks of that move, we were done. It was near the end of 1998 at this point. I was still kicking a little but not too seriously at the moment with all the changes. I didn't know at this point that people did drills and worked on both sides. I just figured raw talent carried everyone to the goal. I don't know, I guess I was just too absorbed in other things to examine this sport I thought was a lot of fun.
Around December 1998 I met Megan at work.. Megan and I have been married for almost 5 years now and have a little boy (Keegan) >> in other words, it became very clear very quickly why going to CA didn't feel right... I really think I was meant to find Megan. Call it cheezy, I don't care.
When spring time hit I started playing more and more again. I had this great yard and a nice flat spot to shred in. I could even shred in my bedroom sometimes. Josh Penny, Ethan Klein, and Bruce Dole did the bedroom shred with me once. Man I miss Ethan - he's such a cool guy. I think he's major surfer, guitar, webmaster guy now - that's cool. I still expect to bump into Bruce (aka "Body Add" Bruce or "The DolerCoaster") at any events I go to on the east coast because I think he's still into it.
I forget how I ended up bumping into Dave Sanchez, but it happened around this same time. This was the single most important event in my *serious* interest in footbag. Dave was/is a natural and he went from sorta shaky shred to solid guiltless in 1 week. Yes, 1 week. His whirls were great and deep and his stepping set would accidentally hit him in the face sometimes. He also had an amazing "not drop it" knack >> like even if the set sucked or he was falling over he could figure out a way to keep the bag up. Anyhow, this was also my first ego-clash... What I mean is that I think to some degree every freestyler that's not super deep into the scene relishes the feeling that "I'm an up and comer!! I could be the next big thing!!!". And it makes sense to feel this way because in most instances, you are playing only with people that are terrible at first so you look like a superstar in comparison. It then comes as a rude awakening when you meet the first player that improves faster than you and passes you right up. Well, this is what happened with Dave. One week I was better than him by a fair amount and was looking forward to keeping ahead of him.. Then that week he went and skooled and I didn't, and a week later he was kicking my ass (no punn intended). Crap. That was no fun. This is the first time I started to think seriously about skooling (which is a great thing) and also the first time I felt that dark competitive feeling that I would normally associate with more traditional sports (which isn't a good thing and we'll revisit this again later).
In any case, me and Dave got along so great in some respects and got on eachother's nerves in others. The good news there is that we somehow struck a balance over the years and I think that although we only hang out once or twice a year now, we're probably a more cohesive duo than ever. Sometimes less is more.
Bob R.
Chapter 5
Pretty soon, I got the itch to hold an event.
I held the first Philly Open that year.
http://www.footbag.org/events/show/917671196
We had a big showing from DC, NYC, Montreal etc. It was great. Easy, fun, no griping or stress. Good prizes and exposure. I do not joke when I say that Bob Riefer (pronounced Reefer in case you didn't know) held a "hippy hacky sack" tournament at the YMCA on Pothouse road on the soccer field named Baker Field. Get it? Riefer, Pothouse, Baker... ha ha ha... Hilarious.
At this event, my parents came to check it out and they had their only opportunity to meet my wife's father, Mr. Hanna. He passed away a few months later - it was a really tough time, but I'm glad that in an off hand way my footbag event gave my family a chance to meet Mr. Hanna.
After the first day of competition and shredding, we headed back to my appartment which was actually the entire 1st floor of an old run-down mansion. I was HUGE. We cooked spaghetti dinner and people watch shred vids and we drank beers and listened to tunes. That night there were shredders on every square inch of floor space in my appartment. It was great.
In any case, the entire experience was stressful and irritating in some ways but overall it was a lot of fun and gratifying. I think part of me realized I might not be the world's #1 shredder but that I could be pretty damn OK at kicking AND also contribute by running fun events. I would go on to hold the same event a year later. It was fun too. We even had a consecutives world record attempt by this guy Garret. Hilarious. Yacine and Somolinos were there too. Zerbe came one year. My black lab Piggy became the official mascott of PA footbag.
Pretty soon, I got the itch to hold an event.
I held the first Philly Open that year.
http://www.footbag.org/events/show/917671196
We had a big showing from DC, NYC, Montreal etc. It was great. Easy, fun, no griping or stress. Good prizes and exposure. I do not joke when I say that Bob Riefer (pronounced Reefer in case you didn't know) held a "hippy hacky sack" tournament at the YMCA on Pothouse road on the soccer field named Baker Field. Get it? Riefer, Pothouse, Baker... ha ha ha... Hilarious.
At this event, my parents came to check it out and they had their only opportunity to meet my wife's father, Mr. Hanna. He passed away a few months later - it was a really tough time, but I'm glad that in an off hand way my footbag event gave my family a chance to meet Mr. Hanna.
After the first day of competition and shredding, we headed back to my appartment which was actually the entire 1st floor of an old run-down mansion. I was HUGE. We cooked spaghetti dinner and people watch shred vids and we drank beers and listened to tunes. That night there were shredders on every square inch of floor space in my appartment. It was great.
In any case, the entire experience was stressful and irritating in some ways but overall it was a lot of fun and gratifying. I think part of me realized I might not be the world's #1 shredder but that I could be pretty damn OK at kicking AND also contribute by running fun events. I would go on to hold the same event a year later. It was fun too. We even had a consecutives world record attempt by this guy Garret. Hilarious. Yacine and Somolinos were there too. Zerbe came one year. My black lab Piggy became the official mascott of PA footbag.
Last edited by Rieferman on 17 Sep 2008 06:47, edited 1 time in total.
Bob R.
Chapter 6
Before the second Philly Open could occur though, I had some problems of my own. You see, I have a heart condition called Ventricular Septal Deffect. Essentially I have a hole between the chambers in my heart. Remember, I was a high school hoops star - could even dunk it pretty nicely - so it obviously never held me back. But in 1999 I got sick with Bacterial Endocarditis (sp?) which can/will kill ya. In my case, it almost *did* kill me. Instead, I was put on a 30 day IV of antibiotics and followed that with open heart surgery. That's right, open heart. I ain't shy to say that heart surgery is NO fun. Afterwards I was in a world of hurt - I couldn't even pick up a coffee cup without severe shooting pain.
I remember going into the surgery was an extremely vulnerable feeling. Not only are you heading towards certain pain and possible death, but they put you in this butt-less smock, spongy slippers with a smiley face on them, and a hair net thingy. I mean, you feel like a complete wimp and are supposed to be building your courage. I clung to Megan. I think my dad cried but I don't remember. I did. I know that. Then they took me into the anesthesia room and things kinda black out for awhile.
All told I was "fake-alive" (i.e. living only on machines) for about 6 hours. Things went off without a hitch. I now have a small dacron patch in my heart and have had no complications. I remember waking up for the first time after surgery - heavily heavily heavily drugged still. I could barely move. They asked me how I felt. My parents were there. Megan was there. Bobby and Michelle were there too I think. My sister was there. I offered a weak smile and a "thumbs up" to the best of my ability. I whispered "biiiiig maaaac". Apparently I was REALLY hungry. Over the next 1/2 day the best nurses on the planet kept me alive - at the slightest rumbling they were there with ice chips or to help me move. They were truly great.
The day after surgery I was walking steps in the hospital. Very slowly with VERY much pain. I was back home by the end of day 2. I was walking about a mile with help by the end of the first week. Six weeks after surgery, I am very proud to say, I won Intermediate Freestyle at the Funtastik - I consider it a real accomplishment to overcome the obstacles I was confronted with. That's me listed as "Beb Riefer" (who's Beb anyways?):
http://www.footbag.org/events/show/929217368
Before the second Philly Open could occur though, I had some problems of my own. You see, I have a heart condition called Ventricular Septal Deffect. Essentially I have a hole between the chambers in my heart. Remember, I was a high school hoops star - could even dunk it pretty nicely - so it obviously never held me back. But in 1999 I got sick with Bacterial Endocarditis (sp?) which can/will kill ya. In my case, it almost *did* kill me. Instead, I was put on a 30 day IV of antibiotics and followed that with open heart surgery. That's right, open heart. I ain't shy to say that heart surgery is NO fun. Afterwards I was in a world of hurt - I couldn't even pick up a coffee cup without severe shooting pain.
I remember going into the surgery was an extremely vulnerable feeling. Not only are you heading towards certain pain and possible death, but they put you in this butt-less smock, spongy slippers with a smiley face on them, and a hair net thingy. I mean, you feel like a complete wimp and are supposed to be building your courage. I clung to Megan. I think my dad cried but I don't remember. I did. I know that. Then they took me into the anesthesia room and things kinda black out for awhile.
All told I was "fake-alive" (i.e. living only on machines) for about 6 hours. Things went off without a hitch. I now have a small dacron patch in my heart and have had no complications. I remember waking up for the first time after surgery - heavily heavily heavily drugged still. I could barely move. They asked me how I felt. My parents were there. Megan was there. Bobby and Michelle were there too I think. My sister was there. I offered a weak smile and a "thumbs up" to the best of my ability. I whispered "biiiiig maaaac". Apparently I was REALLY hungry. Over the next 1/2 day the best nurses on the planet kept me alive - at the slightest rumbling they were there with ice chips or to help me move. They were truly great.
The day after surgery I was walking steps in the hospital. Very slowly with VERY much pain. I was back home by the end of day 2. I was walking about a mile with help by the end of the first week. Six weeks after surgery, I am very proud to say, I won Intermediate Freestyle at the Funtastik - I consider it a real accomplishment to overcome the obstacles I was confronted with. That's me listed as "Beb Riefer" (who's Beb anyways?):
http://www.footbag.org/events/show/929217368
Bob R.
Chapter 7
Whew!! It's been a long journey so far. At this point, I think I've captured the flavor/feel of my introduction and "fall in love" period with this game. Let me just list the hall of fame and hall of shame moments now to get us up to current. Some of this is just recap, some of it is "sorry" or "thanks" comments. Then I'll just do the normal blog thing like everyone else.
- I invented the SMURF events with the help of a bunch of the DC guys. The SMURF in Collegeville is officially the first event that Kenny Shults attended when he moved to PA, and I think it is generally recognized as the event that brought him out of retirement to begin his recent amazing run of top level shred capped by an epic net run at worlds in Montreal 04.
- Among my darkest moments ever came at East Coasts a bunch of years back. We were partying at someone's house afterwards and I got into some very stupid argument with Vince and made a scene and left and started the biggest most embarassing argument ever with Megan. It was then that I really realized my temper is a potential problem. Sorry Vince, I was a complete dumb ass!!!!!
- A weird situation also happened at East Coasts a few years after that. Me and Sunil got into some testosterone/tiredness/alcohol/I dunno what induced argument. I think I can honestly claim mutual fault on this one >> It was complete lameness on both parts and we were both 100% assholes. I can now say that this incident was very large reason for my year off from the sport - it just was such a black feeling and it made me question why I was involved in the game at all. I've since decided we were just stupid and it was what it was and hopefully it's something to be forgotten and forgiven. I ain't apologizing, but I ain't looking for one either.
- I held the original Chilly Philly events. My second/third (I forget) year doing it was probably among the biggest and best freestyle events to ever happen on the east coast and posibly the US. Over 100 players paid entry fees and we really had a good time. I'm really proud of the fun we had at these events. In fact, I remember being a little choked up when I stood up to thank everyone. If there's anything for me to be proud about in footbag, these events are it.
- I also was a complete dick to Benham the year he took over the Chilly Philly. He didn't run it the way I thought it should be run, and instead of just letting him and everyone have their fun, I freaked on him. I think I attached too much personal identification with the event and saw it potentially not going that great so I wigged out. Definitely not cool. My bad Josh. Hopefully it ain't a thing.
- At the top of my game I was playing pretty good guiltless with some decent creative link and fairly BOP-less (called "genuine" I think). I was told I was smooth and fun to kick with. This was at the latest Montreal Worlds 2004 or around there. I hurt my ankle while in Montreal (but not until after I got an unworthy little run on the web vid that Thomass made) and though I played well and said Hi to tons of players I generally felt out of synch with the shred world because I was 28 or so and everyone else was like 11 years old or something. Ha ha. I'm over it now. I've just realized that I can be peripherally involved with the scene without being engrossed in it. That's a better fit. My weakside was not so good but was hidden because my weak side mysteriously moves from side to side based on the trick type or the set etc.
- I've taught or had some early influence on a lot of players that turned out to be pretty damn good players. Jake Milofsky, Tom Moore (no longer playing), Dave Sanchez even.. Dave Clavens had some of his earliest shreds with me. Benham too. I got passed up by most of these guys, but that's what it's all about.
- Had fun in Pittsburgh shredding with Caleb and Hood and getting cookies from my Mom after.
- Brian from Schwenksville brought me out of retirement a few months ago (somewhere around holidays 2005 or new year 2006). His son is athletic enough and enough of a natural to be crazy amazing at shredding but he's into hockey and just isn't into it. He is built like Vasek. Anyhow, me and Brian play now and it's fun. No stress or pressure. I'm finally working on weakside here and there. Mostly just trying not to drop the damn kicky bag too much. Still guiltless with occassional runs that I would consider pretty sweet overall. Mostly just foundation stuff and getting a more fun workout.
I think that's "The End" of my story. Will just blog it from here on. Thanks for reading.
Whew!! It's been a long journey so far. At this point, I think I've captured the flavor/feel of my introduction and "fall in love" period with this game. Let me just list the hall of fame and hall of shame moments now to get us up to current. Some of this is just recap, some of it is "sorry" or "thanks" comments. Then I'll just do the normal blog thing like everyone else.
- I invented the SMURF events with the help of a bunch of the DC guys. The SMURF in Collegeville is officially the first event that Kenny Shults attended when he moved to PA, and I think it is generally recognized as the event that brought him out of retirement to begin his recent amazing run of top level shred capped by an epic net run at worlds in Montreal 04.
- Among my darkest moments ever came at East Coasts a bunch of years back. We were partying at someone's house afterwards and I got into some very stupid argument with Vince and made a scene and left and started the biggest most embarassing argument ever with Megan. It was then that I really realized my temper is a potential problem. Sorry Vince, I was a complete dumb ass!!!!!
- A weird situation also happened at East Coasts a few years after that. Me and Sunil got into some testosterone/tiredness/alcohol/I dunno what induced argument. I think I can honestly claim mutual fault on this one >> It was complete lameness on both parts and we were both 100% assholes. I can now say that this incident was very large reason for my year off from the sport - it just was such a black feeling and it made me question why I was involved in the game at all. I've since decided we were just stupid and it was what it was and hopefully it's something to be forgotten and forgiven. I ain't apologizing, but I ain't looking for one either.
- I held the original Chilly Philly events. My second/third (I forget) year doing it was probably among the biggest and best freestyle events to ever happen on the east coast and posibly the US. Over 100 players paid entry fees and we really had a good time. I'm really proud of the fun we had at these events. In fact, I remember being a little choked up when I stood up to thank everyone. If there's anything for me to be proud about in footbag, these events are it.
- I also was a complete dick to Benham the year he took over the Chilly Philly. He didn't run it the way I thought it should be run, and instead of just letting him and everyone have their fun, I freaked on him. I think I attached too much personal identification with the event and saw it potentially not going that great so I wigged out. Definitely not cool. My bad Josh. Hopefully it ain't a thing.
- At the top of my game I was playing pretty good guiltless with some decent creative link and fairly BOP-less (called "genuine" I think). I was told I was smooth and fun to kick with. This was at the latest Montreal Worlds 2004 or around there. I hurt my ankle while in Montreal (but not until after I got an unworthy little run on the web vid that Thomass made) and though I played well and said Hi to tons of players I generally felt out of synch with the shred world because I was 28 or so and everyone else was like 11 years old or something. Ha ha. I'm over it now. I've just realized that I can be peripherally involved with the scene without being engrossed in it. That's a better fit. My weakside was not so good but was hidden because my weak side mysteriously moves from side to side based on the trick type or the set etc.
- I've taught or had some early influence on a lot of players that turned out to be pretty damn good players. Jake Milofsky, Tom Moore (no longer playing), Dave Sanchez even.. Dave Clavens had some of his earliest shreds with me. Benham too. I got passed up by most of these guys, but that's what it's all about.
- Had fun in Pittsburgh shredding with Caleb and Hood and getting cookies from my Mom after.
- Brian from Schwenksville brought me out of retirement a few months ago (somewhere around holidays 2005 or new year 2006). His son is athletic enough and enough of a natural to be crazy amazing at shredding but he's into hockey and just isn't into it. He is built like Vasek. Anyhow, me and Brian play now and it's fun. No stress or pressure. I'm finally working on weakside here and there. Mostly just trying not to drop the damn kicky bag too much. Still guiltless with occassional runs that I would consider pretty sweet overall. Mostly just foundation stuff and getting a more fun workout.
I think that's "The End" of my story. Will just blog it from here on. Thanks for reading.
Bob R.
session notes:
Brian was low-energy tonight.. he's breaking in new lavers and it's messing with his head. He'll get over it.
Despite this, my new energy food/drink routine (2 hours in advance) plus some advil had me feeling decent even for a Friday night. Not as hot as the other night, but plenty of nice runs and just good work on mixing in weakside stuff again. Pixie, spins, and stepping set mostly. Anyhow, I played for 1 hour 45 minutes. Was good. Drinking beers and watching Vilanova in sweet 16 now. Go cats!!
Brian was low-energy tonight.. he's breaking in new lavers and it's messing with his head. He'll get over it.
Despite this, my new energy food/drink routine (2 hours in advance) plus some advil had me feeling decent even for a Friday night. Not as hot as the other night, but plenty of nice runs and just good work on mixing in weakside stuff again. Pixie, spins, and stepping set mostly. Anyhow, I played for 1 hour 45 minutes. Was good. Drinking beers and watching Vilanova in sweet 16 now. Go cats!!
Bob R.
Oh Nooooooooooo! Brian called me today and said he's taking time off of footbag. He "promises" it won't be for long, but he's 34 years old so this could mean anything. He said he just feels fatigued.. But that's hard for me to understand because on the nights that we kick, he exercises for 3 (yes, three) hours before we even kick.. And then when I leave he plays for another hour or more. So if he's tired he should just chill a little right?!?!?
Back to solo shredding for me
Just like it's always been for the most part.
Back to solo shredding for me
Just like it's always been for the most part.Bob R.