come on bunnies, let's get frisky

RockNationals.

South African National (plus some) Ultimate Frisbee Tournament.
October 3-4, 2009.
Johannesburg.

Nearly two months ago, I got a phone call: Hi Robin, this is Neal. From Frisbee? The guys who used to play at 2 o’clock on Sunday? Yeah, so, we are going to Nationals this year. And we need more girls. Are you interested?

UM, YES!

And so (re)began my love affair with the 2pm Frisbee guys. I played with them briefly in May-June, but fell out of it. My 3:30 team was more fun, more social, and I didn’t feel fit enough to really compete with the 2pm guys.

But then I got that fateful phone call. I was in.

I practiced with them a bit in September, but with rehearsals devouring time, and then with my gimp foot, I did not get many practices in.

I almost dropped out. The week before the tournament, I almost said that I could not go. My foot was not feeling better, and I really did not know anyone, so was it going to be any fun? Was I going to be able to play?

But I sucked it up. I went.

Thank goodness.

October 3-4 can now be known as pretty much the best weekend in South Africa that I have had thus far.

This was the first time (I’m pretty sure that is an accurate fact) that Durban has been represented at Nationals. The team was proudly named Prawn Bunny. This is an incomprehensible name to those outside of Durban, so it seems. Bunnies are an Indian dish, kind of like a Panera soup bowl, aka: bread with beans inside, that are quite common in Durban, what with our Indian population. A prawn bunny, has prawns (crayfish) in addition to beans… I think. I claim ignorance through vegetarianism.

There were eight teams competing. 6 from SA, one from Swaziland, and one from Mozambique. There were two brackets, of four teams each. We each played three games on the Saturday, and depending on scores there, we proceeded on Sunday into semifinals and whatnot.

On Saturday, Prawn Bunny came together for the first time. We met our teammates. Many of the guys are regular Bunnies, but most of us girls were recruited specifically for the tournament. So it was a matter of, Hi, what’s your name?/Here’s the disc!

For meeting each other 30 minutes previous, we played our first game rather well. We started to get a sense of each other and to learn how to support each other on the field. On the sidelines, we started cheering for each other, calling out tips, and otherwise hollering for our teammates.

As a half thought, I threw some stickers into my bag before leaving Durban. Stickers that read such phrases like “Good job!” “Bright student” and “Terrific!” After our first game, I gave stickers to each player on the opposite team.

What I did not know, was that after each game both teams vote for MVP, best defense, best layout, best spirit, for the other team. When the paper came to us, I saw that I was down for Most Spirit. In that moment, I decided that since I could not play to my fullest (gimp foot), I could at least be the most spirited person on the field (read: loudest, and potentially most obnoxious in a positive way). Also up for grabs in the tournament was the coveted “All-Around” Best Team award, a large component of which was judged by spirit. So, it was time for the Bunnies to get pumped.

Between games, we wrote a cheer, to the tune of “Barbie Girl.” I’m a bunny prawn, from Durban by the sea, it’s fantastic, we play with plastic, we throw it in the air, and catch it everywhere, we love the plastic, its prawn-tastic. Come on Bunnies, let’s get discy. Come on Bunnies, let’s get frisky.

We lost all three games on Saturday. But we cheered a lot. A lot a lot.

The new, classic, and wonderful film, “Fired Up” provided us with ample cheers as well. We are running, we we are running. We are awesome, we we are awesome. We are losing, again we are losing! To name a few.

Saturday night was a big party/celebration. The Bunnies rocked the dance floor with our stylish moves and grooves.

When the Zebru (an opposing team) lifted one of their girls into the air to do a pull up on the truss in the ceiling, my team lifted me and I did 15 (which is to say, that I was hoisted up into the air, and basically did nothing while the guys below lifted). We upped the ante on the dance floor. The only thing we did not try to best, was Wendy (renowned for her streaking), when she stripped naked, placed a Frisbee between her butt cheeks and was carried horizontally by her team mates across the dance floor: she was a Frisbee shark.

Speaking of nudity, later that night, a game of Ultimate was played. Drunken. Naked. Ultimate. We stood on the sidelines and watched (and laughed) as our naked friends ran around in the chilly Jo-burg air. The game was broken up soon after the people attending the corporate event, also taking place at the country club where our party was, came out to observe the madness. I think they may have enjoyed the game more than we did.

The following morning, we had a game at 8:30am. Thankfully the Prawn Bunnies stayed sober the previous night, but the Zebru, our opponents did not. Nursing major hangovers, they took the field. It was a close game, but the Bunnies emerged victorious! For the first time! I gave everyone stickers.

We won our second game of the day as well.

From completely defeated, we were finally victorious.

The final was played between the Long Donkeys from Pietermaritzburg and Chili from Cape Town. Clearly the Bunnies cheered for the Donkeys, since they are from KZN, our province.

In the middle of the game, a kind of cheer-off occurred between the Bunnies and Zebru. We were seated on opposite sides of the field, and could easily taunt each other. But, we noticed, one of our Bunnies was not sitting with us. Rather, he was with the Zebru! Crisis.

Our captain, Paul, who we called Captain Spandex, because of his stretchy spandex pants, started cheering: When I say Neal, you say Whore! Neal! Whore! Neal Whore! (Neal has lived all over and has played with most of the teams at Nationals).

Finally fed up (in a funny way), we decided to cross the field to demand that Neal stop being a Frisbee Slut (excuse the language). Now, before this story continues, you must know that as a gift for attending Nationals, we were all given a small cooler. A squishy fabric one, black on the outside, shiny on the inside, which can hold between 2-4 soda cans. Werner, the grumpy bunny (if we were the seven dwarves, he would be grumpy, but he is hilarious and we love him), turned his cooler inside out, and put it on his head like a hat. We gave him a jacket as a cape, and lifted him into the air. Armed with a vuvusela, our Prawn King (as we now were calling Werner) led us around the field to the Zebrus and Neal. We chanted: One! We are the Bunnies! Two! A little bit louder! Three! I still can’t hear you! Four! More more more! (or alternately, Four! Neal is a whore!)

We arrived at the Zebru stands and demanded Neal join us. He didn’t. We all laughed profusely. It was good fun.

By this time, the Chilis had beaten the Long Donkeys, and the weekend was coming to a close. After the tequila run (which I opted out of, claiming gimp leg, although I did partake in a shot of tequila later), prizes were to be given.

In preparation, and because we were fairly sure we were going to win the spirit award, the Bunnies wrote a new cheer, and we all turned our coolers inside out and put them on our heads.

Then, of course, since we had them on our heads, everything that people won as prizes they had to put on their heads. Which was quite amusing.

Prizes were passed out for best MVP, male and female, best defense, best layout, etc. Then it was time for the Most Spirited Player award. The prize givers said that it was usually very easy to give out this award, but that this year it was a real contest. Finally, they said, the award must go to the newcomer, upsetting the defending spirit champion, and go to Robin of the Prawn Bunnies!

Hilarious.

I hopped and hobbled up, receiving my prize of two candlesticks, so as not to let the flame of spirit die, to the cheers of my teammates.

After the Chilis were awarded their prize for reclaiming their championship title, it was time for the coveted all around award.

The award was going to go to a team, who was unstoppable in their cheers, who really rocked the party, and who improved enormously on the field: The Prawn Bunnies!

We hopped up, bunny ears turning slightly red with embarrassment. We sang our song, to the tune of We Are the Champions: We really thank you for playing, and we will be back next year, we are the bunnies, we are the bunnies, thank you for playing, and we are the bunnies, from KwaZulu!

Just minutes after, we all were saying goodbye, and piling into cars for the long, unnecessarily long, drive home from Jo-burg.

A mere 60 some hours after I left Durban, I was back again. It was a short and fleeting weekend, but overwhelmingly joyous, full of positive energy, and a real sense of community.

You know it was a good time when everyone changes their facebook statuses to reflect the tournament and their love for the Prawn Bunnies.

PBF.
Prawn Bunnies Forever.