Ultimate Frisbee Goes Pro

(3 of 3)

For its top events like the U.S. Open and National Championships, USA Ultimate has come up with a compromise. Players still make their own calls. But if they can't resolve the dispute, third-party observers step in to rule. So far, ESPN doesn't mind the observers. And the network's opinion is all that really matters right now. ESPN likes the pace of play. "We've only done two events, so I can't see the future," says Myers. "But we've had no issues whatsoever."

Ultimate's bigger challenge is losing the stoner stereotype. "We're battling against preconceived notions that it's a hippie pastime," says Beau Kittredge, 31, a top player for the San Francisco Dogfish of the MLU (day job: children's-book author). "That you're supposed to play with your border collie and whatnot."

The game's name just feeds this perception. According to journalist Adam Zagoria, who co-wrote a 2005 book on the history of Ultimate, a New Jersey high school student thought the game was the "ultimate in Frisbee sports" and christened it Ultimate Frisbee in 1970. "It sounds like a guy was sitting around smoking weed and goes, 'Ahhhh, we're the coolest!'" says Andrew Wilkes, 24, a computer programmer who plays for Pride of New York. "We're the ultimate! It's so goofy."

The Pride guys toss out their favorite alternative: flatball. Kinda fun. But dull somehow too. Which means Ultimate will have to sell itself. "We just need people to give us a chance," says Wilkes after the team's evening workout. "It's just such a great sport ... It's cheap--all you need is a Frisbee and a field. The spirit of the game encourages accountability. It's great exercise. It just has a little bit of everything."

On the subway ride home, a few players start talking about all the nice golf courses they've played while traveling to tournaments. It's the kind of conversation you'd expect in an NBA or NFL locker room. Except these were Frisbee-golf courses.