At 6am most of the team was beginning to stir in their beds in Sydney. We had to be up the mountain before 8:30 to start the walk on time. It’s a long walk: 19km with 2 big descents and 2 big climbs.


At 6am in Adelaide 2 members of the team were taking off. Their flight the night before was delayed then cancelled. They’d trudged home late, rebooked, and gotten up in the dark with the dream of catching the team. We were going on a team building walk up Mount Solitary. If we made the summit through the rain and messy track we’d discuss our values, elect our captains and come off the mountains as a team.

It had been windy, cold and wet. The mist was low and the track damp when the 20 person group started walking. A few minutes later the Adelaide boys stepped off their flight. In the 1.5 hour taxi between the airport and the dirt road trail head, they read the hike plan and prepared for a struggle.


They would need to complete the 9km outbound leg, along a tight single file trail, without perfect directions, one and a half hours faster than the main group in order to join in the important team moments.


We knew they were coming. At obvious places the team build arrows out of sticks. Coach Dani hung her hat on tree and a spare red whistle on a fallen log as the trail became obscured by fallen leaves and branches. We walked on wondering if they could do it.


Back in the woods they surged on. With minimal food they took no stops and settled into their chase. A system developed, they took turns in the lead; scanning the trail to stay on track and setting the pace while the other just had to keep up.


There is a tricky section when the track dumps out into an open creek bed, the water was flowing happily in the creek and raining gently at times. The trail disappears and the way is to cross a giant fallen tree and rediscover the path as it climbs up the opposite bank.


From there it’s all up on the way to the summit, a long steady climb from the water to the sky. The final steep section had slowed the big group down. We stopped for breaks, muscles tightened and called out at the continued stepping up and up. The track hits rocky sections and is hard to follow in places, particularly given the leaf and stick debris which had fallen over the last few days.


There is a scramble section to a false summit, back on the chase, they continued to wonder if they were on the correct path and how far they have to go. They’d already made 3 mistakes and backtracked, correctly, to save the attempt and not get too lost. It was hot and humid, everything wet, they were shirts off and charging. The marks were working, they’d already found the hat and the red whistle. The boys continued, pushing up the steepest section, blowing the whistle and hoping.


On the summit the team had eaten lunch, shared some stories and stood around in the drizzle for a while. Dani headed back down the trail to find our last teammates. Stalling for time before we started the important team discussions we broke for 10 minutes. We all wondered if they’d be able to make it.


Slow heavy drips gathered on leaves and fell sporadically, all around a wall of dense white cloud surrounded our clearing and muffled the sound.


Then a tree rustled, the sound of thumping feet and heavy breathing. Dan and Oscar burst around a corner and into a circle of team. Greeted by cheers and 20 happy faces, they folded into the group. Handshakes and hugs, questions, congratulations and heavy breathing. They were blowing from the climb, wet with sweat, mist and rain. Triumphant from a chase completed and relieved to not be lost on the side of a mountain.


It was a legitimate struggle: from the late night decision to book the early flight, through reduced sleep, fatigued decision making and physical strain, fast along the trail. The reward was significant. Both for the 2 chargers, and for the team. It was a statement loud and clear. The team is worth your best effort. Just to be part of the group warrants sacrifice and powerful persistence.


The team building walk was a success, the sun even came out so the captains could talk in brilliant warm light. It was probably always going to be a great way to begin forging our team. Due to the slightly mythic effort of 2 young men, and the respect and deference offered by the team, it was enhanced on all measures.


All morning my mind was playing scenes from this movie. As the chase through the beautiful landscape was on. “No matter how long, no matter how far, I will find you.” The Last of the South Australians.

Commodore George Anson was on a mission to challenge and defeat a Spanish fleet and capture their treasure galleon. He was a flag captain on H.M.S. Centurion in 1740.


He set off with 2000 British sailors and marines in 6 ships to round the Horn of Africa and take the European war into the pacific.


In 2 years of sailing and struggling, including shipwrecks, scurvy, chaos, shocking storms and accidents, the fleet was reduced down to 1 ship and 250 men. From 2000!


To save the whole endeavour he sought the Spanish treasure ship, Covadonga in waters near the Philippines. If the English found her, it would be a desperate battle of floating timber fortresses in the wild of the ocean. “Prepare or perish” he stated as the Centurion patrolled the far side of the world. His crew did.

It’s a sensational line; prepare or perish. A central theme, a value to guide their efforts. A mantra to live and strive by. Prepare or perish.


There is a popular theme in Australian Frisbee teams at the moment. Each team identifies a trio of words to guide their campaign, behaviour and play. 3 Values. Everyone does it, the senior teams, the men, the women, the U24s, probably the U20s as well. Less so the Masters age, it’s a different vibe with the over age types.

The first time I ever heard of a triumvirate of values was from the undisputed champions of 2009-2013 San Fransisco Revolver. Everyone knew Revolver and everyone had heard their Intensity, Humility, Discipline values set.

The first time I experienced anything like that myself was in my last Aussie Dingoes team in 2016. We built an Excellence, Passion, Community framework and measured ourselves against it at every evening meeting. In the same year the Women’s team had a Form, Fire, Focus shorthand for their team dynamic.


It’s taken as a given these days with most National frisbee teams, that you’ve got to choose your version of core values, and craft your frisbee business on those pillars. I have a gnawing fear that as a community we’re straying dangerously close to cliché territory.


I do believe it is critical that a team has a shared vision, a united purpose and accessible language to guide and measure their culture. I also think this could take a number of forms. Three values could be the answer, but so could a slogan or a statement, perhaps a code of conduct, a ‘no dickheads policy’ even. It’s actually not the words that matter so much as the actions that happen in the small quiet moments at training, in the kitchen and in the down time with teammates. As well as at 10-all in your elimination quarter final when you’ve got to get a block and a goal. What you do matters then too.


Culture is impactful, values are important. Teams and groups looking at each other and saying what is expected and what they’ll each do for the team is critical. The best form for that agreement should suit the team and suit the message.


Prepare or perish.

The name Whale shark doesn’t make sense. The animal is not a whale. It’s also barely a shark. Rhincodon typus, it’s a filter feeding giant. The biggest fish there is, eating tiny, filterable organisms. Shark? Whale? Fish.


It doesn’t make sense.


Something else that doesn’t make sense is Bondi Beach. It’s globally famous, is massively crowded, fairly expensive, not simple to get to and kind of a scene. It has a massive reputation to live up to - it feels to me that in a survey of people from overseas, asking them to name 1 place in Australia, Bondi would be the most often selected location. The hype level for that place is enormous.


What doesn’t make sense is that despite all that, sometimes it actually fills its own shoes, lives up to its billing and truely is a lovely part of the Sydney. Epic and magnificent really.


Today the parking was quick and free all morning. The traffic in was fine. The kids ocean pool was fun and safe, the rock shelf was not too spikey, the ocean water was clear and bracing without being cold. The waves were fun sized, there was space in the shade at the picnic table and the foot paths weren’t too hot.


It was the most excellent morning at the beach. On a hot Sunday in January at Bondi. In the end it all made perfect sense. Did even see any sharks.

The shoe guy said “do you want to wear those home?”
The boy nodded gleefully, jumped and said “yes”. When the old, tired and much loved running shoes hit the fresh crinkly paper of the new shoe box I felt a flood of nostalgia. I have clear childhood memories of what it was like to get a brand new pair of speed shoes.


I can picture the bright orange puffy tongue of a pair of LYNX brand tennis shoes I got as a 10 year old. I can feel the corrugated rubber ‘grip’ on the sole of a black and white pair of 80s high tops. I remember craving new shoes at times as a child; the bounce and life, the precise unpicked stitching down the upper, the bright space-shuttle white leather panels and the sharp new box they came in.

I know I wanted nice new shoes, I also remember not realising how beaten up and dodgy my old shoes were until they were placed inside that glorious new shoe box. The contrast suddenly revealed how decrepit the olds had become and how nice and fresh the new wheels were going to be. I thought about these visceral memories as my boy literally sprinted through the shopping centre in his brand new speedies.


I’ve been away from home for 10 days, travelling around, staying with Christmas friends and Christmas family. I’ve been in other people’s lives and homes and will be back in my little world tomorrow. It makes me think about my routines and habits. The systems and patterns of my life and which ones look a bit shabby and frayed. I recon there are some things that could be put into the shoe box of an upgraded option. Maybe only then I’ll be able to see how dated they’ve become. It’s easy to make a choice or have a reaction because it’s the way you’ve been doing it.


It might be great to try on some fresh new shoes and feel how they grip.

We’re standing in line at a local thrift shop, it is a strange place to teach a boy about irony. Now, irony is hard to explain to anyone, anywhere. It’s particularly difficult in a shop full of cheep stuff to a 7 year old.


Perhaps you’re trying now, in your head, to explain the concept of irony. What would you say?


“It’s like when you mean one thing, but you say the opposite.” “Irony is when there is a humorous or irreverent twist on the truth.” “It could be one thing but it’s not, it’s something else, but the particular something else is specific in comparison to all the other somethings that it could have been.” How ironic.


It’s like rain on your wedding day.
It’s the free ride when you’re already there.
It’s the good advice which you just didn’t take.


You know, it was hard for Alanis too.


Anyway, the boy had chosen a toy for $5, it was called Charade and came in a square box. This isn’t charades, but some other game of tricks and subterfuge. As we were standing in line to buy the game he started to gently shake the box. It’s a second hand store, this is good policy. After a gentle shake, I watched his brow furrow, then he shook it harder.


The rattle was wrong. Not enough action. I watched him pry the corner and peek. The furrow deepened. The box was empty. Charade was missing some kind of square toy inside. The box was a trick, a gambit. This game of Charade was actually a charade itself. A classic case of irony. We put the empty box back and walked out a little richer in understanding.


Probably.

I like the idea of being quite honest as a parent, to our kids. We don’t try to hide too much of the reality from them. We use the anatomical names to describe bodies, in fact I’m ready to go on the sex Ed. talk whenever they are.


It’s 1 week from Christmas and the whole of society (children’s society) is in love with the Santa Claus fantasy. With our first, we went pretty early on the joyful, magical, fictional story of Christmas. A great story, like Harry Potter, not real though. I don’t know if it took any of the fun away from it for him, he’s certainly always been pumped about the toys under the tree and talks about Santa flying his slay in a similar way to other children.


He did though break the basic rule and told some other kid about the Santa myth. Big mistake. I had asked him not to do that, but he was 4. A parent at his daycare that December referred to him as a ‘dream wrecker’, presumably after their son came home talking “Paterson says Santa doesn’t…”


Sorry.


We’re back in the fun of Christmas again as the three year old is spotting Santa all over town and is super pumped about it. “IT’S SANTA CLAWS” is hollered delightfully from the back seat on virtually every drive at the moment.


I keep meaning to re-brief the dream wrecker on the situation this year, however a strange thing seems to be happening. It seems like he’s sliding further towards believing the story, rather than further away. I think having a little sister who is all the way bought in, or perhaps the fundamental joy of such a magic and personally profitable story is reeling him back in.


It is a great story and a real fun part of Christmas with kids. All that anticipation and then the overnight magic of presents under the tree. For the boy it feels like a perfect outcome to me. Deep down he knows it’s a fictional story, but now he’s able to leap into it and enjoy the excitement and tension of waiting for Santa.

Something that is pretty fun and easy to do is to give other people advice. You love it, dishing out truth, sharing your tips. It’s great.

Especially when they’re in a tough spot and you happen to be chilling there too. Pretty easy to give, a fair bit harder to take.


That’s exactly where I found myself last Saturday morning. In a mighty nervous circle of over 100 U24 athletes, telling them they should be brave. First thing at the selection camp, I’m rolling out the ‘be brave’ advice. Even though roughly 40% of them were not going to achieve a frisbee dream as a result of the weekend’s selection. “Be brave,” I said, not just “be brave”, but also “find times to celebrate your courage when you notice it. It’s what you’re supposed to do when you’re in a struggle.”


I’ve been reading a book. Now, I’m telling everyone about it. I’m also using the tips from it to try and help frisbee players.


I’m saying ‘celebrate your courage’, because I think it’s a good message. The book seems compelling.

But, I’m also saying it to people who may be just doing some good old fashioned self protection. It’s very hard to wholly admit that you truely want to achieve something. It’s hard because you can open right up to the pain of disappointment when you do make that statement to yourself, or others.


There are some great ablative options that people take to insulate themselves from that admission and associated pain. In the lead up to this selection event I heard a few: “I don’t think I’m in contention, I’m just going for the experience.” “It’s a great chance to play top frisbee for a weekend, I’m not thinking about it as a selection.”


These can be true statements, and I understand the motivation, I’ve felt it myself. Perhaps most have. It takes courage to commit with a full heart and I’m always impressed when I see athletes, or people in general, who are able to do that. Across the selection weekend I clearly saw people play with courage and more powerfully, I watched people passionately pursue their frisbee ambition.


The Australian U24 teams will be announced later in the week. Another test of courage for those players desperately waiting to hear if it’s joy or pain for them this time. Either way, I hope they’re proud of the bravery they’ve shown to themselves and to the people around them. Respect.

I just arrived home after a couple of weeks adventuring without my family. It’s the first long trip away from my kids since they were born. Large chunks of it were sensational, the sitting still, the staying out, the small amount of stuff to carry around. Even the painful moments, like a 2 hour delay on the tarmac before a 15 hour flight was super manageable, I just relaxed and read my book. No sweat, no meltdowns.


I had fun, slept pretty well and took a few long slow breaths. All the way in, and all the way out.


All that being said. I was very pleased to arrive home yesterday. It was hugs and smiles from the children before they quickly resorted back to their standard program of energy and shouting. Classic kids.


I love it though, and the experience of leaving, makes the pull home and the grateful realisation of how good I’ve got it very strong. I don’t know if there’s a way to have what you’ve got and stay constantly aware that it’s great. Maybe that not a possible frame of mind to maintain, maybe it is. Tonight though it’s sparklingly clear, I’m a very lucky man and I’m stoked to be home.

I’ve been living in a mini society for a week, a little frisbee team society. My society has spent the week in sports conflict with other teams at the World Masters age championships: struggle, valor, victory and defeat. Go the Wombats.


Of course the whole time, between games, I’ve been thinking about what parallels exist between this global frisbee conflict and Ancient Rome. Normal stuff. Particularly, I’ve been musing about the social and interpersonal nature of a society, a community, a team.


Here are two Roman ideas that I only partially understand, yet have enjoyed in action this week: dignitas and auctoritas. Dignitas could be understood as a combination of personal dignity and respect that is recognised by the group. Your personal share of Rome’s total glory. As the group achieves success (wins a game by 3 against Germany, or defeats the Samnites to win control of the lands to the East of Rome) every players’ dignitas increases. If you personally forced a block, scored a goal or are first over the siege wall your individual dignitas expands as a proportion of the whole.


Auctoritas could be understood as the value of your opinion within the group. This is built over time through
the quality of your contributions to the society. Romans could increase their auctoritas by holding a public office, arguing well in the courts or senate, success in the army and having their point of view or wisdom proved correct in important matters. In a frisbee team if you say we’re going to play zone defence and it turns out to work better than match defence, then your auctoritas grows in the group. Equally if you suggest fish tacos for the team dinner and people get sick your auctoritas takes a hit.


A week with the boys on the team is a week in a mini society. Everyone striving to enhance the glory of our team, and also quietly their own share of that success. From how to play, where to eat, which songs to play in the car and how often is too often to ask about the weather. All elements of team life exist in a highly social setting.


There are some important factors that binds this whole swirling mass of personal ambition and interpersonal wrangling together. A common identity, collectively understood, enjoyed and worked for helps to build trust and appreciation between citizens and between team mates. Further, the collective mission to achieve something together against opposition and external threats helps to unite individuals who value their dignitas and auctoritas. Whether you’re trying to win an elimination quarter final against Japan or destroy Carthage, the existential threat to your society takes priority above who gets to make the first cut on offence that point.


So it’s been an interesting week with the boys. We struggled together to do something good, and we formed an excellent little society for a while.


Up the bats.

On Thursday I’m flying to the Masters age Frisbee World Champs. In 4 weeks I’ll help select 23 players for the Under 24 men’s frisbee team, they’ll go to their World Champs in June next year.


The former is at the end of a campaign, the later is at the beginning. I’ve been thinking a lot about the balance of these 2 positions, the relationship between a goal (playing well at Worlds) and the process required to get there. I’ve also been reading Dr. Adam Fraser’s book Strive. Looking forwards, looking backwards.


There are many ways to view these types of campaigns or projects. A classic one in our community goes something like: “if I do enough hard work in the lead up to Worlds, then I’ll get to play well and win games.” Maybe more bluntly: “I’ve got to train to win a medal.”


While I believe that is true, my recent thinking is around the other processes that exist, and where individuals and teams can assign their attention while preparing for Worlds (or an exam, a job interview, an overseas holiday, a wedding).


I’ve built a visual to help consider this:

Dr. Fraser’s research suggests that it’s not actually happiness at achieving a goal which humans deeply crave. It’s struggle and growth. The process of facing challenging situations and experiences allow people to evolve and provide a fundamental element of life for humans.


The common social story of our times, that happiness and contentment are waiting at the other end of achievement is missing key elements. Fulfilled goals, without growth-creating struggle do not lead to satisfaction. Growth-creating struggle has its own value, perhaps even large chunks of value, regardless of the outcome of a goal based pursuit.


You could read Strive to get a sharper understanding direct from the doctor.


My interest is in the application of these ideas to our national teams. I think that if we tell ourselves and teammates that it’s all about working hard so that Worlds goes the way we want, then we miss part of it. My current thinking is that the value pathway goes the other way too. Because we’ve been selected onto the national team and are going to Worlds, we are given a long series of precious challenges on the way. We are placed into a state of striving.


These challenges are simple and clear in some cases: gym sessions, running blocks, learning tactical systems. Some are social: working together with new people and solving the personality alignment puzzles of a team. Some are personal: confidence, sacrifice, organisation, honesty and determination.


Living on team Australia for a year is really hard. This is why it is a wonderful way to spend your efforts. Living with situations that demand courage, work and growth with a team will build the kind of evolution and pride that make people feel legitimate purpose and satisfaction in their lives.


We work hard for Worlds.
Worlds lets us work hard.


It flows both ways and that is why we’re grateful to do it.