By Mike Lopez
Humor Columnist

I think I am a decent writer.

Take a handful of junior girls who went abroad first semester, came back, and told me that they stuck my articles on the walls of China and Germany. Or how about half a dozen junior boys, who have told me that making my articles was the highlight of their week, even when I was fairly certain they weren’t even included. I’m not actually sure, in fact, they can even read.

Or finally, and most notably, take junior Blake Wayman, who emailed me and referred to my writings with a subject of “stop making me cry.” Apparently, after reading my articles, he started crying. Wayman, in a related note, plays tennis and majors in music.

So in my final hurrah as a senior, my last article of The Bates Student for any and all to enjoy before the hysterics of Short Term, I decided to write an article on the one group of people that hated my articles: the Bates Frisbee team.

The idea itself sprung recently, when I was informed that, as a response to my articles, the Frisbee team had resumed one of their most popular cheers. While I can’t tell you what exactly that cheer is, I can say it begins with an “f” and ends with an “uck Mike Lopez.” I figured I should take offense, considering that my name happens to be Mike Lopez.

My anticipated meeting with the Frisbee team inspired not all, however. Junior Holly Page commented, “How can Frisbee be a sport? It’s not on ESPN. It’s not even on ESPN 2. They put dog shows on ESPN, but not Frisbee.”

Page, in case you were wondering, does not play for the Frisbee team.

Junior Chris Cary, however, does. Cary also happens to be the gentleman I ran into recently, while he was wearing his Bates Ultimate sweatshirt. I saw him walking towards me and I commented, “Nice sweatshirt.” His response was not nice. As a result, I had found the Frisbee player I wanted to meet with.

Unfortunately for Page, I did not want to meet with Cary to discuss the validity of his sport; rather, I hoped to examine the existing hot and heavy relationship between Frisbee players and themselves the rest of the campus.

I promised Cary this would not turn into an article making fun of the Frisbee team, so, alas, I will turn it into an article making fun of the Frisbee team and the football team, namely myself.

That’s because, as hard as it may seem, both teams think remarkably alike.

“The stereotype out there at Bates,” says Cary, “is that you can point out a Frisbee player by his or her appearance, and that there is this defined image we go by. It’s just not the case.”

Stereotypes? Football team has ’em. Defined football player image? I’d say so.

Problem is, of course, both sides tend to ignore one another, thinking, in fact, that they are really on two different sides. Cary pointed out that not all Frisbee players are hippies with ponytails and Nalgene bottles. I pointed out that not all football players are class-skippers with buzz cuts and Gatorade bottles. Surprisingly, in fact, we aren’t as different as I thought.

“We sometimes feel like we are the scapegoats for the school. We get shafted on money and the image put forth on campus, and how the school, and newspaper look at us.”
Cary said that, not a football player.

Like the rest of the club sports teams at Bates, the Frisbee team gets $500 for the year. Cary says that’s enough for basic equipment and two tournaments a year. Colby, in their first year as a program, received $3,500 for their season. That’s 7 times what Bates gives. Money is a problem at Bates, and both teams would be the first to tell you that.
“F*ck Mike Lopez.”

So why the cheer, I asked Cary; why take yourselves so seriously?

Cary pointed out that the cheer was a response to the general attitude on campus towards members of the team. It became more of a title, he says, than anything else, sort of like saying ‘F*ck the Yankees.’

Mike Lopez, like the Yankees? How about not?

Cary was also quick to point out that “there are a lot of oversensitive people at Bates,” as a final reason for the cheer. I couldn’t agree with him more.
“Pray for Trot Nixon.”

That, of course, also came from Cary. It turns out that the star of the Frisbee team doesn’t actually smoke pot each night; he’s one of the biggest Red Sox fans this school has. That, of course, also came from Cary. It turns out that the star of the Frisbee team doesn’t actually smoke pot each night; he’s watching Red Sox games. That makes two of us. We even own the same Red Sox hat. His favorite Red Sox player is Trot Nixon, and while I am more of a Rich Garces fan, neither Nixon, Garces, nor myself can move very fast down the bases right about now.

The similarities were astounding and extended beyond baseball. He enjoys humor, and I think I am funny. To top it off, he was even planning on eating at Commons that night, just like I was. He promised, in fact, not to eat from the Vegan Bar.

In response for stopping their cheer, I promised Cary that I would give the frisbee team slightly more positive press in the paper. (Slightly, football team, means just a bit more). So here it is - out of over 500 teams, they finished 121st at their most recent tournament. That’s pretty solid, even if they do use my field.

Frisbee team down, there is now one person who leaves my writing with an empty feeling, humor columnist Chet Clem, a junior. Clem didn’t even like the article we co-wrote last week, which makes me figure that if he dislikes writing he helped me with, he must hate my writing left alone.

Oh, well, I figure, at least Clem has another year in the snow.
I just have Short Term, where if Cary’s lucky, he just might find me stomping on throwing around a frisbee.




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