My trusty teammates brought home a cheesesteak for me last night, long after I fell asleep. I ate it, cold, for breakfast. Yum!

We eked out a win. What an ugly game. We had it in hand, then nearly gave it away in the second half, then simply failed to lose.

Our team won the tournament's Spirit Award. To a team that can't hope to win the tournament itself, this means a lot. Ultimate is a self-refereed sport, and the “spirit of the game” is the glue that binds the spine of the worn hardcover tome that is Ultimate.

Our team traditionally awards a game disc to our most spirited player at that tournament. I was pleasantly surprised when someone nominated me, and didn't particularly mind that the disc was awarded to Steve DiPasquo, especially since he kicked ass all weekend. Simply being nominated made my day and ended the tournament nicely for me.

I drove through Pennsylvania fairly briskly. We stopped to stretch just after entering Ohio. Henry offered to drive the rest of the way. I turned him down. Strike one.

Going north on I-271, Ilana suggested exiting at Cedar Road and driving the remainder of the way on Cedar. Content with the way the highway driving had been going, I decided to stick with my preferred route. Strike two.

Continuing north on 271, heading for 90 west and Martin Luther King Drive, I drove 75 miles per hour in a 60 zone in Mayfield Heights. Strike three.

On a clear night, with hardly any cars on the road at 2 AM, I received a dad-blasted ticket — my first, ever. I won't say just how fast I was going through the entire state of Pennsylvania without police interference, but let's just say it was 15 MPH faster than what I got ticketed for in Ohio. Not that I am bitter about Ohio sucking; after all, what good did it ever do to be bitter?

Henry and I stayed up until 5AM getting the homework done. We felt like big men who needed big sleep.