I’m riding the Waikiki Express into town at 07:10 AM. Heading to Kapiolani Park for day one of the 32d annual Kaimana Klassik, Hawaii’s premiere ultimate frisbee tournament. The weather is perfect. Life is good.
Waikiki is just edging into daytime mode as we roll down Kalakaua Avenue. Tourists heading out for coffee, or to stroll along the beach before the sun gets too high, before the Waikiki tourist carnival cranks into high gear. Kalakaua Avenue is the beach-side main drag through Waikiki. Welcome to tourist central.
Lots of locals proudly proclaim they never go into Waikiki. It’s all tourists, they say, with uplifted noses. I, on the other hand, often make a pilgrimage to this Mecca of tourism. Why not? People from around the world save money all there life for a dream vacation in Waikiki, for the beautiful beaches, fabulous hotels, restaurants, and stores. I count it as good luck to be able to make regular forays into Waikiki to check the pulse of this beast.
I got off the bus a few blocks short of Kapiolani Park. Still had some time to kill before opening ceremonies at 9:00 AM and first games st 10:00, so got some time to check out the scene.
Things looking squeaky clean in the morning. Waikiki is the crown jewel of the Hawaii tourist industry, and considerable focus and money is poured into making Waikiki a welcoming place. This includes armies of public and private cleaners getting the place ready to go each morning. It includes homeless sweeps to keep the army of vagrants at bay. You can’t camp out on sidewalks anymore. Seems like this is a no-brainer, but it took years of outcry and legislative hand wringing before laws were recently enacted to prohibit camping on sidewalks. The city also started closing the park areas and beaches overnight to keep vagrants from establishing permanent camp sites. Granted, I can see a couple of bums setting up shop for the day. Another guy is already asleep on a beach-side picnic table, with his shopping cart of belongings at the ready. But at least there are no longer permanent campsites pocking the area. And in Waikiki, the bums need to be on good behavior, because the police will respond quickly to any trouble in this pearly part of town.
I sit on a bench looking out over the water. The sun behind me glistens on the breaking waves in the distance, already dotted with a handful of surfers. I take a sip of water, then close my eyes and try to remove all thoughts from my mind, and just be open to sensing this moment and nothing more.
But enough of this, it’s almost 9:00 AM, time to get to Kapiolani Park and the wonderful world of ultimate.
This 3-day ultimate tournament features 20 teams, half men, half women. It is an international field featuring men and women’s teams from Japan, Australia, and Canada; as well as teams from Portland, Boston, and multiple California teams. And Hawaii is well represented by two men’s teams and two women’s teams.
I started playing ultimate in the late 1970s, when it was more of a fringe sport. Today, ultimate is more established, with widespread club play in schools, and leagues throughout the country. Also, there is a well-established network of tournaments throughout the country and the world, including the Kaimana Klassic, which is going strong in its 32d annual outing.
After the opening ceremonies, I eavesdropped on the team captains’ meeting, then milled around to see how many old friends might be about. I saw a few, but will probably see more tomorrow (Saturday), since most of my old fart frisbee friends are probably working today.
Then I settled down in a strategic position to view two games simultaneously. I was right between two games that featured local teams, The Killer Clowns in the Open Division, and the Disco Queens in the Women’s Division.
Some may be shocked by a team name like Killer Clowns. Not me. My understanding is this is a one-off team name, for this tournament only. Might be interesting if the team went for a stroll down Kalakaua and see if they could stir up some panic, but I noticed the guys mostly put on their clown costumes on the field and then removed costumes before heading elsewhere….probably for the best.
The other Hawaii men’s team name (and personna) is even more offensive, and this team has been playing at the Kaimana Klassik for several years now. They are called Moose Knuckle. Dictionary.com says moose knuckle is a slang term for when the outline of a man’s genitalia are visible through particularly tight or hiked-up clothing. Kinda like the male equivalent of the camel toe for ladies. The garb and stuffing these men use to live up to their team name is not suitable for further discussion in a high-class forum like Waipahu Bob’s blog. That’s right, I SAID GOOD DAY SIR!
Like a bee to flowers, like a bear to honey, Waipahu Bob was particularly drawn to the glittery costumes of the Disco Queens. I’m not sure if they won any games, but they were the most glamorous of teams, and the disco tunes were popping on the sidelines. Good attitudes and good fun, that’s what it’s all about.
After two morning games for all 20 teams, there was a lunch break. I headed across the street, beach side to eat my sandwich and check out the scene.
As I sat and started eating my lunch, I heard the tranquil play of a harp, and some gentle singing behind me.
After a nice relaxing lunch and a bit of reading, I headed back to the fields for the afternoon games. It was as nice a day as I had hoped for, and when the final games finished up in the late afternoon, I was glad I had made the scene. Sometimes I wish I was still able to run with the boys on the ultimate field. The sport was a big part of my life for a long time. I made among my best friends playing ultimate in college. I played with civilian teams on and off during my military career. It was a source of connection for me with the civilian community, even as my life was dominated by military matters. It was nice to drive off the base and see a different crowd, and to play a semi-renegade sport that emphasized “spirit of the game,” no referees making calls, only players working it out themselves. Hard play, but not at the sacrifice of good spirit. At this tournament, like most, team “spirit points” were recorded after every game, along with the final game score. Each team captain rates the overall spirit of the opposing team in terms of fairness, friendliness and overall positive attitude. An overall team spirit award is given at the end of the tournament, as well as individual spirit awards within each team. Kinda corny, huh? Nope, it’s one of the things that makes ultimate great.
The fields started emptying. I hiked back up Kalakaua towards the Fort Derussy area. I had a meeting with the notorious Mr. S, whom you may remember from my previous Waikiki soiree. He had a plan he wanted to run by me, something about medical marijuana deliveries via drone. We discussed it over a few beers, and while I tried to dissuade him from the venture, he seemed determined. At any rate, I told him I wasn’t interested in being a partner in this scheme. I mean, what could go wrong…..right?
At the end of the evening, Mr. S wanted to go for coffee, but I was hip to what that meant at his favorite spot, the Coffee Bean. Without getting into all the details, Mr. S has a sordid history with the potted plants at the Coffee Bean. I was determined not to be party to his shenanigans again.
We bid farewell and I hoofed it to the bus stop at the corner of Ala Moana and Hobron. I caught an 8:30 PM bus heading to Waipahu. I was tired, and my knee ached. I’d been on the road since 6:00 AM this morning. I settled back in my seat and closed my eyes, making sure I had my backpack well protected.
Life is good.
Waipahu Bob 