For Curtis

Of all the people in the world to be taken away from us way too soon, I am in absolute shock that it had to be Curtis. Curtis crossed over on Tuesday October 3, leaving his loving and wonderful wife Maria and three small children.

I met Curtis 24 years ago, at college around 1982. I had the distinct pleasure of being his friend and teammate in the prime of his life - with the Brockport Flying Dogs from 1982-84, with Life in 1985 and Spot in 1986, and with National and World champion NYNY in 1987-89.

Pictured above is Dave Chaiken (L) and Curtis (R, with blue & white shirt), probably around 1984-5. Looks like Curtis just let loose a mighty backhand airbounce, one of his many signature throws. Because we were so competitive, I never told him how much I wanted to emulate that throw.

I can now admit what everyone already knew: Curtis was the best.

I was lucky - I got to play *with* Curtis, instead of *against* him. He was the Clark Kent of Ultimate - the most mild mannered, polite and humble player around. He exemplified Ultimate's spirit of the game, which places the responsibility of fair play, mutual respect, and most of all, joy, squarely on the players.

Cleats were to Curtis what the cape was to Superman. When he laced up, he was one tough hombre. His offense was unstoppable. He was fleet-footed and confident with great disc skills. No one threw a heavier hammer, a faster flick or a better backhand. High throw? No problem. Curtis could sky like he had springs for shins.

Heaven help you if he lined up against you on "D" - he had speed, tenacity, wits and guts. Curtis covered you like a blanket, he got in your socks like athlete's foot, and was twice as tough to lose.

While most people only dream of playing for the best team in the world, Curtis and I were lucky enough to help New York New York (NYNY) win their first National and World championships in 1987-88. NYNY was a juggernaut that went on to win six out of seven and five consecutive National and World titles from 1987-1993. But there was nothing like the magic of winning that first year, the start of the NYNY dynasty.

My favorite Curtis 'moment' was at the National Ultimate Championship games in 1987 in Miami Florida. Curtis and I were practicing on the field before the big game against Chicago's Windy City, the reigning National Champions. The wind was howling that day, making it the eighth player on the field, giving the team from the windy city a distinct advantage - on paper, at least.

I was about 10 yards deep in the end zone, cutting hard from the middle of the field towards the left sideline. Curtis was on the playing field about 25 yards away. He kept humming that backhand airbounce to me, seemingly oblivious to the breeze blasting right in his face, toying with wind and gravity like a GoD.

I would catch the disc, and with the strong wind behind me, flick a fast forehand back to Curtis, which he effortlessly and gracefully grabbed with a loud *thwack!* Then I'd return to the middle of the end zone and make the exact same cut, with Curtis zipping that perfect airbounce my way. Again and again we did this, the same cut, the same beautiful throw, over and over.

Looking back now, I realize that Curtis and I never did this before, and subsequently, we never did it again. Our normal warmup consisted of running all over the field, trying different throws and catches with various teammates.

But the wind held steady, the angle was perfect, no one else was around, and we were both having a really good time. Maybe we were just burning off nervous energy - neither of us had been to the Nationals before. But there was such a pure, sweet, unspoken feeling about it. We just kept running the same pattern till the start of the game broke up our single-minded folly.

The game started and, as usual, our teammates on NYNY marched relentlessly up the 120-yard field. The play was developing in such a way that Curtis was about to receive the disc in the exact same spot where we had been practicing before the game, on the left side of the field about 30 yards away from our goal line.

The difference between a good player and a champion is a keen "field sense," which is the ability to know - without looking around - not only where each player *is* on the field, but also where they are *going.*

To Curtis, "field sense" came as natural and relaxed as breathing.

There was no way Curtis could have "seen" me - I was 30 yards behind him at mid-field and way over on the opposite, right sideline. No one on Chicago, or even NYNY, had any idea what was about to happen next.

No one, that is, except me and Curtis.

Instinct kicked in. I flew straight up the right sideline, escaping my defender so quickly that he just stopped, either unable or unwilling to keep up. When I reached our sacred, secret spot about 10 yards into the end zone, I cut hard to the left without even looking at Curtis.

Though our eyes never met, Curtis "knew" where I was, and where I was going.

You see, Curtis and I were deep in the "zone" or "flow," that mystical place where you do the right thing without thinking. Everyone else seems to be playing in slow motion. You don't see players on the field, just empty spaces into which you either throw the disc, or run to catch a disc thrown by your teammate. You don't think. You just run, catch, throw, and repeat as necessary.

Curtis was naturally tuned into the "zone."

Without hesitating or even looking my way, Curtis grabbed the disc with his back to me and began to coil his body up like a tightly-wound spring. When he uncoiled, he transferred every bit of energy from his muscular, 175-pound body into that aerodynamic, 175-ounce plastic disc. With a final, ferocious *snap* of his wrist, the disc flew from his hand, waist high, spinning so fast that it - in fact - defied gravity.

For the first 10-15 yards, the disc dipped down towards the green grass, coming within just a few inches of hitting the ground. To the untrained eye, this throw was about to become a worm-burner, a grounder, a turn-over.

But thanks to the massive spin Curtis put on the disc, combined with a hurricane-like headwind and the build-up of air pressure between the spinning disc and the ground, the disc slowly began to rise, like a yo-yo on an invisible string, higher and higher as it came towards me over those remaining 15 yards.

As I cut to our pre-ordained spot in the end-zone, the disc continued to rise up until it returned to waist-height. Then it just hovered in place, directly in front of me, like a tiny plastic space ship straight out of the Jetsons, greeting my open, eager hands like an old friend.

It was a 'strike' right in my gut. Goal! The best backhand airbounce evah.

Curtis and I had been through it all - scrapes and wood-burns on our knees from defensive diving on the floors of indoor gyms from Rochester to SUNY Buffalo ("only wimps wear pads"), frostbitten fingers from winter games on the frozen shores of Lake Ontario, windburned and sunburned faces from three-day weekend tournaments at SUNY Purchase or "Zoo" Mass-Amherst.

After all those years of playing together, we now shared something we had only dreamed about. Two chuckleheads from SUNY "Brock-apulco" had just connected for a goal at the US National Championships.

I was so excited that I threw the disc in the air and ran to Curtis to give him a high five and a massive bear hug. At the time, and to this day, we never mentioned anything about the pattern that we had practiced just minutes before the game. We didnt have to. We just knew.

We were celebrating much more than just a goal. We were celebrating the fact that, with focused energy and intent, people can actually bend and shape reality. Curtis had willed the goal into being - just like he imagined it in practice.

Opponents ran in slow-motion, the field was full of holes instead of players, and time stood still. At that moment, there was nothing except Curtis, me and a flying disc.

The memory is etched in my mind as if it was yesterday. But it was 20 years ago.

I'm sure Curtis is up in heaven now, tossing a squillion-mile long, inter-galactic backhand airbounce to a lucky extraterrestrial, with no need to compensate for the earthbound restrictions of gravity, wind, time and space that he so easily mastered when he played the game in this physical world.

Must be one sweet toss. For Curtis, I'd chase that disc down any day.

Rest in peace buddy. You were one of a kind. Thanks for the memories.

The photo above was taken after NYNY beat Chicago's Windy City to win the 1987 National championships in Miami, Florida. Curtis is in the middle row all the way to the right, smiling that huge, boyish Curtis Wagner smile, standing and bent over with hands on knees, sporting a black tee-shirt with Mickey Mouse on it.

Appropriately, the man standing to his right is Skip Kuhn, one of Curtis's oldest and dearest friends, who loyally and faithfully stood by Curtis the day he passed.

That's me standing behind "team mom" Dobyns, with Doctor King's white doctor's smock on, showing off the Mickey Mouse pin on my lapel.

I have been out of touch with these friends, colleagues and memories for too long. I miss the "Flyng" Dogs (our spelling-challenged state school), Life, Spot, NYNY, my teammates, my opponents, and playing Ultimate.

And I miss you already, Curtis, most of all.

For the first time in about a decade, I want to go outside, feel the warm sun on my face, the grass under my bare feet, the wind at my back, and just huck a disc around. Life is precious and way too short. So stop reading this right now, turn off your computer and get outside and have some fun.

Practice your backhand, which I will refer to from now on as the "Curtis Airbounce." Maybe someday you'll throw it for a goal at the National championships.

Comments

[charles Miller]

It's so wonderful to hear these stories about Curtis. I remember that Ottawa tournament well - driving up in Skippy's beat up yellow van & winning the cup with CRUD!!
The amazing thing about Curtis is that the same passion & joy that he exhibited on the grand stage of competitive ultimate was carried on to all phases of his life. Even for his pesky little brother, Curtis was always there to throw that same air bounce back hand to me over & over in our back yard for countless days. That's who he was. Thanks for the kind memories. -Charles Miller.(Curtis's step brother)

[George M Gollub]

Wow! what a way to wake up this morning on 10/14/06.

Nam myo renge kyo
May Curtis' family & friends remember fondly all of the loving wondrous moments that Curtis bestowed upon them & recall him with an incomparable vividness that they can hold dearly to their hearts & souls. Cyrtis wherever you may be may you be sustained with the thoughts of knowing that the loved ones think of you as such.
I remember it was the 2nd or 3rd day that I was in Brockport. There i was fresh from the noted "farm team" of Ultimate Bronx Science- we had just come off winning National High School Championships two years in a row & I was anxiously excited to play with the Brockport Flying Dogs- I had heard some great things about their tenacious play. I had not seen a darn thing anywhere & was wondering geez where are these guys & there I was. Walking through the mall near the student union & I saw 3 guys tossing a bee around. One a tall dark handsome fellow etched with a permanent grin on his face and a remarkable stretch for discs typically beyond the reach of the common man (Metzner), one with sandy brown hair and a quickness of feet that left many in the dust(Dave) & one with an incredibley impressive air bounce that defied tha laws of gravity every time he whipped it off his fingers. I watched them for about 10 minutes before I went over & asked if I could join in. The welcoming committee was warm friendly & next thing I knew I was part of an incredible group of individuals who were supportive, respectful & just GREAT fun.
Curtis was one of the best inspirational leaders I have ever played with in any sport - ultimate, work of life. That guy was witty, charming & kind & we sure could use more like that in our every day lives. The way he played during the game & practise only mad eme want to play better- With a jovial charm he sure knew how to bring out the best competitor in you. I loved being a handler with Curtis when we switched on offense. The throws, the hustle, the catches were all amazingly exciting. I felt like I could never get enough. Rats why did it all have to go so fast?

I will never forget that 1st year when I played with the Dogs- damn we were awesome!!! Those were some of the best games I have ever played in my life. That tournament in Albany where we played Tufts, Umass' Visitors, kaboom, albany, binghamton, syracuse & Umass - that was seriously intense, thrilling & one of a kind. Curtis egged us all on & made us play in ways we never thought we could. The admiration & respect afford him not only by our teammates but also by our competitors was highly noted & worthy of many accolades.
It's great to read this stuff & think about all of the wonderful teammates I have played with. Yarish you said it well I loved every minute of it & the fun people we shared some brilliant moments with:
Metzner, Brian Schmidt, Sparky, Bobby Kay, Bigby, Big Dave, Timony, Goldfluss, Bobby Nixon, Scott Dale, Steve, Andy, Billy Burns & his bro with the moustache, Joe, Mike, Ed and all the others who we road tripped with & hustled our asses off to chase that piece of plastic that felt so good to throw & catch & use for add'l purposes too. Miss you all & send you guys all the best in whatever you are doing. Touch base with me it would be great to hear from any of you & when in Boston- drop on by too!
hee hee
Well hats off to Curtis & who knows - yes G-d works in strange ways maybe for all we know he is somewhere like Warren Beatty in Heavan Can Wait searching for a way tgo play ultimate again somewhere.
peace out & deepest prayers for his dear family & friends
nam myo renge kyo
George M Gollub
617-888-2170

[Mike Krug]

Curtis was someone who I didn’t spend a lot of time with. We were friends and teammates for one year, not much time in the scope of my life, but the thing is, I have many memories of him, as if we spent a lot more time together. Everyone who knew him would agree he was one of the nicest guys they ever met. I remember the start of my senior year at Brockport, we had a lot players graduate the year before, we sent out word we needed new players for the ultimate team. At the first practice we were met by a handful of guys who wanted to play, Mike Metzner, team captain told me to take a few new guys and see if they have any potential at the end practice, I had only one play who had potential, and it was Curtis of course. Curtis made one comment to me that day which was “man you guys are really serious about this.” In no time while giving 110%, he became one of the top players on the team. Curtis was a fierce player, pushing himself and the whole team, with his never gives up attitude. Like I said Curtis was fierce, but one of the most even tempered persons I have ever known. When I look back now I find it funny to think at that time I thought he would made a decent player, and as it turns out he became one of the top players in the world. At the end of my senior year, I blew out my knee, I tried to hang onto the sport, and would cross paths with Curtis at tournaments around New York, we were always well met, and he would take the time to hear what I have been up to. When Curtis and Dave went with the NY team to US championships then to the Worlds, I know they took a small piece of the Dogs with them. I know I speak for all the Dogs when I say “you did us proud.” Even though it has been fifteen years since we crossed paths, I still feel the same for him as if it was only yesterday. His time with us was short, but very well spent. Mike Krug

[Steve]

Dave,

I received a call from Dan Krug and visited your site and thoroughly enjoyed the blog for Curtis. Everyone who has enjoyed the game can appreciate the zone you and Curtis entered. I shared many similar moments with Tom Kirby, my Flyng Dogs co-captain and friend. One such moment was at our pinnacle in a Regional game vs. NYNY. We were getting and got our butts kicked, but what lives on is the shining moment when a 50 yard arching backhand left my hands before Tom even made his last cut and met him in the back left corner of the end zone. One of very few shining moments that game. I also remember the kick blocks and stuffs along the way, and my first tourney goal at BPort. A hammer in the chest from Curtis. His glare and focus meant dropping it wasn't an option.

I had the pleasure of playing with you at BPort in 1983-84 and Turkey Bowls in Katonah. A strong showing at UMass Regional, but just shy of Nationals! Brian Schmidt, George Gollub, and I were rookie freshman (George had Bedford Sty experience and he & I capt. the Dogs for a year as well). I remember Metzner, Nixon, Hendrix, Andy Eck, the wombat, you, Curtis, another Dave, and a few others. I truly enjoyed the spirit of the game, the competition, road trips and parties along the way. G_D has a funny way of picking the cleanest and healthiest of our party go lucky group. Go figure.

The tournament discs and a silly ragged Crown Royal cap are hanging on the garage wall against my wife's wishes. I will defiantly pull out a disc tonight at my daughters soccer practice to throw a heavenly Hammer in Curtis' memory. I called Brian Schmidt and guided him to you site with the request to forward to another Dog.

Congrats on your success!

Take care.

Steven H. Yarish
Executive Director
Cherokee Children's Stabilization
& Assessment Center
404-353-2433

[Dan krug]

I had the privilege of sharing time with Curtis on the Ultimate field at S.U.N.Y. Brockport. He was a person of the highest morals, standards and character that you could find on or off the field.
My heart felt wishes to his family.

Dan Krug

[Chris Prickett]

Dave,

Great stuff buddy! As sad as I am about Curtis's death, the great memories are overflowing and I have to smile! I last saw him Christmas 99', and he was the same ol' dude. I think my most vivid memories of Curtis are from the Ottowa Ultimate Tourmanent in 85' or 86'. He was effortlessly dominant!

Hope your life is all you hoped for. I'm a (relatively speaking) respectable husband and father of three, and I still drag my 47 year old ass up and down a basketball court a couple days a week. Nothing worth complaining about!