I’ve been laid up with a sprained ankle (which: booooooo) so I FINALLY got around to uploading my Sandblast 2K11 pictures.
Photography-wise, it was a learning experience. I’ve never shot in such erratic conditions (speaking to my n00bness). At College Nationals and at most of the spring high school sports I shot, it was consistently dark. Obviously, shooting volleyball or basketball were indoors affairs, so I didn’t really have to adjust for lighting changes too often, but Sandblast weekend was something else. It would be ridiculously bright one minute, and then cloud cover would come and throw some mad shade in the mix. It was frustrating at times, but overall still fun, and I got a few shots I liked.
Sandblast is always one of my most favorite weekends of the entire year. It’s summer, the weather is *usually* great (the exceptions being the years I was in California for the event), lots of friends are in town, and there’s tons of great ultimate happening all around you at a beach in the best city in the world. I’d like to fancy Sandblast as one of the funnest tournaments that the sport has to offer, with all the partying, daydrinking, theme teams, costumes, and general tomfoolery that come with the weekend, not to mention all the great plays and players.
Even though I may never play another Sandblast again (After playing in one Sandblast the summer after my freshman year — I can’t even remember the team name, or even half the people I played with — I decided that someone with my unique combination of asthma, flat feet, and general foghornery should never play competitive beach again), it doesn’t stop me from going out and enjoying every last one of these babies. I love walking from field to field and saying hello to old friends, and even meeting new ones (Imagine that, with my social awkwardness and whatnot! So proud of myself right now!). I love that every time I turn my head I see another sick layout. It’s just fun, y’know? I’m no Twirly or whatever but y’all should come next year and hang out with me.
Things I’ve Learned From Sandblast
1. Always. Always. Always remember to reapply sunscreen. Especially to the back of your knees and your scalp. Also don’t forget the chapstick with SPF. *foghorn* The back of my knees are a deep, deep brown. The rest of me is pale. *foghorns all around*
2. If you don’t want to be steady picking sand out of the keys of your phone with a toothpick, put it in a Ziploc bag and don’t take it out unless you need to.
3. Standing at a field with your camera in hand, totally ready to snap action shots is a surefire way to miss great action. More often than not, the cool stuff is happening three fields away from you. Womp womp.
4. Sandblast sometimes looks like a lax bro convention.
5. Don’t come if you can’t appreciate/understand that popsicles are gonna be melted, you feel me?
In unrelated news:
Things I Find Hilarious
1. When dudes refer to each other as “girl”. Example: Andrew- What’s up Brian? You look a little down today. Brian- Girl, I am beat.
2. Whenever I go to the photo section of any department store and see frames that say things like “The Girlies” or “My Girls” and I imagine buying those frames for my dude friends to encase pictures of them with their dude friends.
3. About 9/10 times, I can read discs really well, even when they are thrown horribly/the wind takes the disc on an altered course. About 10/10 times, I won’t be able to catch the disc, especially if it’s in traffic (read: if there is a person within five feet of me) and I have to catch it up high or with one hand. Made of failz. Womp womp. *foghorn* *foghorn* also *foghorn* (I did sky a dude at summer league last week, but he wasn’t even that tall so never the minds. This happened minutes before I sprained my ankle running in a straight line. *foghorn*)
4. Arriving late to Harry Potter knowing full well that we have seats in the middle of a row. And I also have crutches. And I smell like my grandma’s house. WELP.
5. I smell like my grandma’s house, and all my Asian friends have picked up on it the instant I’ve entered a room/car. If y’all ain’t know, old Asian grandmas’ houses usually smell like a mix of booze and rubbing oils. Or well, *my* grandma’s house smells like that, anyhow. That’s how I’m treating this sprained ankle, booze and Chinese rubbing oils. At least one of those things is working.
