It’s been almost twenty years since I last played any sort of club level ultimate (where does the time go?!), but I look back on my Ultimate career—from the 1991 to 2000 and admittedly mediocre at best—with a lot of fondness. Throughout that time, I played with and against a lot of people who, to this day, remain some of my closest friends and members of my community. But the team that holds a special place in my heart is of course, Downtown Brown.
I think we all had this shared experience of playing a sport we loved, but feeling like there just weren’t a whole lot of people who looked like us on the field. Obviously, things have changed in the last 20 years, but back in the 90s, there just weren’t a whole lot of us playing. I can’t tell you the number of times I looked across the field and felt like, “Ok, so I’m matching up against the only other Asian dude, or other non-white player.” Well, with Downtown Brown (still one of the best names for any team) the people whom I’d previously matched up against, were my teammates. And it felt good to play together.
Sometimes you don’t know what you’re missing, until you get it. In this case, it was playing with friends who somehow got you because they understood the experience of also being a minority in dominant White culture. We were “woke” even back then. We had DJ Dave on the sidelines with the tunes and we had Gata leading us on cheers decrying the Man, but most of all, we were a great team who could compete.
But the thing I remember with the most fondness is the post tournament Circle. This is where we all sat and shared our stories about growing up, our backgrounds and what it meant to play on DTB. This was real talk. What started out as a fun team became something more: a chance to talk about what it means to be a person of color and to navigate identity in our society. It was deep.
In the nearly 20 years I’ve been out of the game, there are way more players of color and undoubtedly the consciousness of race, ethnicity and identity has grown with the younger generations, but I hope there’s always a place for Downtown Brown. Fist Up!
