Wow, Paris Open last week. What to say? Where to start? It's the standard problem when a tourney has been such a good time and 3 days filled with impressions (and expressions) ask for being poured into words.
Friday morning Jul and I meet up in Brussels to take the bus. It seems we'll be the only representatives of the Belgian scene. Alex might join us but he intends to hitchhike so he can't say when he'll show up. Well, first impression of the French border police on friday: they really are more strict than their Belgian colleagues. They sent a freaking drug hound on our luggage. It seems the Eurolines buses are a welcome means of transport for drug pushers. My friend Jul had tucked a small package for personal use waaaaay down in his luggage but quite understandably he wasn't comfortable at all. The dog did a good deal of sniffing but failed to find anything, so we hit France!
Somewhere in the afternoon we arrive in Paris, say hi's at the dinner area/party spot named 'Club House'. A few familiar faces (waw, the footbag community really is a small world), I shoot some French at the Paris crew and they seem to understand me
. Anyway, after some time we check out the gym. Net courts all around the place! It's 5 pm or so and there's no way anyone can freestyle. I later found out (on the last day, to be precise) that there was another gym just across the street but no one seemed motivated to go there so I just hung around like everyone else and watched net (a.o. net legend Yves Archambault and some other world class players which was cool).
A while later a guy stitching a pent on his bag (it later turned out to be the wrong panel to his grief) joins me. I look at him and think: man, he looks just like a smaller and younger version of Yves Kreil. Now you have to know I adore Yves' shred. So yeah we chat. He speaks native-like French (as far as I can tell being no expert). So I think: yeah, probably some kid from the Paris crew. A while later it turns out his name is Yves. He comes from Berlin. He spent some time at a French school. I realise my mistake. It's the Krusher. From the videos I've seen, he plays very upright, which explains why I thought him taller than he is. Once again I am happy about the footbag scene. Really, there aren't many other sports in which a top player would casually come and talk to someone he doesn't know.
Net goes on a while, I meet some other people (a.o. a happy review with Daryl Canady. He and his girlfriend went sightseeing half of the time, which is a good idea. I didn't see shit of Paris). Anyway, only at 7pm or so the net thing is drawing to an end, after which the freestylers start warming up for the competitions that are scheduled at 8!!! It's footbag. No worries. I kick some with Daryl, Maxxx, Jul, Jakob Mai, Jakob Wagner (also a cool guy), Franck Remy (cool guy but I knew that before). I try my shred30 a while but realise about 15 minutes before the start that I'll probably have to change my plan of doing a planned shred30 as it is impossible to get beyond 7 or so contacts. So competition starts with shred30, the first competition I have registered for EVER. I have less stress than expected, go out into the spotlights and surprise surprise, I
love the feeling of standing there! Up to now I had always thought I wasn't much of a competition guy but Friday night made me alter that conception. Now I have to say the footbag community is probably the best to learn, as everyone is supportive and friendly. Dammit, they cheer before you do a toe stall! Anyway, I do my first planned 5 or so contacts and then just start improvising. I get through with 1 or 2 drops. I'm not so happy about my shred, it was average, but just the fact of being there meant a lot more to me.
I hadn't registered for sick 3 or 1, but felt like some more exposure so Max told me to inform Eric (speaker/mc) that I wanted to squeeze in just before Max, which was cool. I do matador first try (had been trying it during warm up but couldn't hit a single one), whirling swirl second try, then go on to some whirrs. I hit a dodgy one, and intend to go on with some vortices and mobii, when Eric informs me I've had all my tries (actually he said: 'Wim, merci d'être venu' which is a lot more funny). Apparently sick one is only 5 tries and sick3 7, and I confused the two. A story all the more bad as I got back to the warming up area to cool down some, tried mobius and hit it first try
. Merde! After the competition we pretty much have to leave, it's around 11pm and they want the gym closed. We head to the club house, have dinner, play 4square, kick around, hang around, until Jul beckons me to come nearer and shows me a list. At first I don't understand what he's showing me, the list says 1. Zerg 2. Jakob 3. Wim and so forth. Then I realise it's the results from shred30
. I placed third after Serge Kaldany and Jakob Wagner! Holy shit! I did a mere 128, which in many competitions wouldn't get you anywhere near the podium but hey. I beat such grandmasters as Max B., Karim Daouk, Matthias Schmidt and Franck Remy. And Jul got 6th out of 14 competitors! Way to represent Belgium on the first night! I know circumstances were a little exceptional. Based purely on potential, I would have placed 6th or 7th but some guys more or less fucked up, and I unwittingly took my chance. Yay! A medal!
Around 1am, to my surprise, I see Alex and Sami from the Brussels crew walking into the club house. Holy shit! Another surprise. From 2, the Belgian attendance had suddenly doubled. Yeaaah. Around 4am we head down to Max' parents' appartment (free lodging! Thanks Max). I throw some pillows on the floor, get my sleeping bag out and fall asleep.
Towards morning I feel sore all over the place. Sleeping on pillows on the ground was definitely not a good idea. I'm happy that there is only routines that day and I didn't register for that as I feel Saturday's shred won't be a big deal. From that day I only remember I shred on and off casually and that I hit some good runs but that my overall feeling was one of regret for not having taken the bed instead of the pillows
The Spanish amaze me with their level of shred. Joel hits triple dexes like nothing. Triple atw, pigbeaters etc all
in sandals (how can anyone clipper in those things?). Some people rip it up in routines. Matthias is around 1.45 into his semis routine on his first drop. Idem for Karim and Jakob I think.
More dinner, partying and 4 square at the club house. The dancing rule is a classic in Paris, so much so that after two days 4square just doesn't
feel right when you're
not dancing. Especially when looking on while you're not in the game, the dancing rule is hilarious. 4 guys/girls kicking a bag while each dancing on a separate square. Other favourites: the 'Pirate walk' (blind one eye with your hand, introduced by Mathieu Gauthier), tricky serves (a low ceiling such as that of the Club House gives you a lot of unexpected options) and 'first contact left foot' (pretty natural to me as I'm a lefty). Basically there are no limits. Party night gets me a little worked up. I'm getting enough of people drinking and smoking as if there's no tomorrow. I for myself don't smoke (never did much) and drink only little. It's not that I'm against it, I just don't need it, so why bother getting bad hangovers? I see most other people drinking and smoking baaad and wonder why people do that to themselves. Is it escapism? Most footbag players are examples of good youthful form and health during the day. Beautiful to look at. And then comes night. And I think: hurray footbag scene. I feel I want to leave, get a good night's rest for a change because Sunday is circle contest and I just want to shred to full potential throughout the day. Earlier I had vented a similar wish and some people had agreed with me. So I'm pretty confident that, as I ask some other guests from Max' appartment if they want to haul a cab and go to rest early I'll get some positive feedback. Nope. Most of them just sit around, too tired to have fun but nevertheless not wanting to leave (why???). I don't want to pay for a cab all by myself and try not to feel too bad about my feeling of dependance. I go for a walk in Paris China town (basically all around the gym) and feel better after it. The congregation eventually gets up to leave at around 5am so a long rest has been shot to hell. That night I wisely share a bed with Jul and sleep a hell of a lot better.
Sunday morning, I'm awake at 10.30am but no one else stirrs (except for Max I later found out) so I try to get some more sleep, which I can't. I know breakfast at the Club House finishes at 12 (and we pretty much missed it on Saturday) and circle contest should start around that time (yeah, it's a footbag schedule so that means 1.30 but still) so I just get up at 11.45 and pack my stuff. Still no one else moves, so I ask them if anyone else is for a taxi but such replies as I get suggest the need for at least two more hours of sleep (I guess smoking weed really takes away a few hours of conscious living every day. Whaw). I try not to get worked up again and get over my state of dependance by hauling a taxi all for my own.
Get some breakfast at the club house and by that time it's time to get warmed up for circles (in the other gym this time). I feel a lot better than on Saturday and also my shred improves again. Warm up for about an hour and then I hear I'm in a pool with Yves Kreil, Justin Eichenlaub and Sylwan Daouk. I figure if the first two players go on to the second round, I have a shot if I do well. But I don't, in fact I feel I fuck up big time. I get in only one bag turn that more or less reflects my level. I don't like the bag, I think it rolls (sorry Yves), but the majority doesn't mind, so I ask if it's allowed to take a different bag for your turn. Nope. So I just try to make the best of it but still I get cut
Watched and filmed finals and saw some decently good shit being hit. As to difficulty I believe the finalists were pretty much on a par, but Serge really excelled in run length.
Anyway, shortly after the rest of the appartment dwellers arrive and we kick some more. I then realise I haven't hit any new tricks that week end, try some tomahawks and hit it! Both sides! New five! Yeah! What makes it even better that not five minutes later, Jul hits it as well! Yeaaah! I again foot high plains and flurry. Hit a lot of PS whirls throughout the weekend, pixie paradon and paradox torque too. Around 5pm the organisors try to get us back to the Club House for the award ceremony and the goodbye speech. The speech is a little apologetic because of the hassle with gyms and the schedule. I for one didn't mind about it much. I mean, it's footbag, everyone's used to delays
sorry for the pun. No really, I consider a tournament timetable more as a point of reference, not so much to know at what time something will take place, but rather
in what order. That and the faith that everything will work out in the end always do the trick. So yeah, then the French Open had come pretty much to an end. It took us about an hour more to say goodbye to everyone. Jul and I decide to join a ride with Sami and Alex instead of having to worry if we'd make it in time for the bus. We'd paid for a return trip, but the advantages of Alex' car are unmistakeable: less dogs, more fun, a nicer atmosphere for finishing up the weekend. Decision made.
.
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That's what Max and Franck told me months ago, but I guess I really had to see for myself.