[Editor's Note: Written by Ben Wiggins in December 2006 after returning from traveling to World's in Perth and beyond. Published today on the two-year anniversary of Ben's participation in this great tournament].

The Philippine heat hits as soon as you clear customs. Do people play in this? Heck, do they walk in this? When the outside air is warmer than my body temperature at 6 in the morning, I know I am in for a rough tournament. I’ve come to this archipelago in search of a tournament that I was told I could not miss, at least not as long as I was within a thousand miles of it. I’m also intensely curious as to what kind of Ultimate world it takes to support a tournament with such a fairytale reputation. One week after the conclusion of the Worlds 2006, in Perth, I am obeying the advice of my friends and strapping the cleats on again for the Manila Spirits tournament.

The Philippine islands (all 7,107 of them) make up a developing nation in Southeast Asia. 90 million people live on about as much land mass as Arizona, though with a shade under twice the coastline of the United States. If God really wanted us to talk to the fishes, this would be the place for him to make the introduction. While the main island, Luzon, is home to the capital and most of the influence, without air and sea transport this country would be totally impenetrable past Luzon’s arable valleys. Manila may look like Taipei or any other modern city from the air, everything below escalator-height flirts with rampant poverty. Disasters are a fact of life. The natural kind include the volcano that blew 15 years ago and the typhoon that tried to get me (and, soberingly, triggered mudslides that killed thousands).  This is to say nothing of unnatural disasters; this country is still working to heal from WWII. Is this where I was really directed to find a burgeoning ultimate scene? My Lonely Planet guide seems to be shaking its head and pursing its lips, trying not to give me the bad news. Seattle this is not, it seems.

As usual, I have whored onto a squad through a friend of a friend. My new team, Shanghai, is mostly comprised of expatriates, which is not unusual in the Asian ultimate
scene. White faces are the majority on most of the visiting teams, probably in large part due to the costs involved in traveling. For the most part, expats get paid expat rates, which means they have the money to travel. In fact, some of my teammates require a tournament every 2-3 months to reset their visas by leaving the country.

Conversations about each team usually hinge around a reluctant acceptance of the fact that most teams have yet to really sink the hook of ultimate into their communities in a way that produces fully-local teams that can travel. Similar to many American small-town organizations, I think, in that ex-college players dominate and it takes time and effort to get the locals onto the field. Communities in the States grow much more rapidly when colleges feed precious new blood into the system yearly (especially new blood that tends to enjoy the simple unpaid pleasures of helping with organization). Without those natural feeding tubes, non-college-ultimate towns in Asia and the US alike are restricted to the random flow of experienced players. [Youth ultimate (on both sides of the Pacfic) is on a huge rise, but still contributes less to the total makeup of most scenes…that’ll change, though.] Ex-pats are responsible for spreading the game throughout Asia, to the point where (reportedly) there are very few Asian countries you can’t find a pickup game in, if you are willing to do some research beforehand. Local involvement in those games is increasing in leaps and bounds in many countries, and expats are more and more becoming teachers and captains rather than the bulk of the squad. Shanghai, at least for this tournament, does not fit that mold and our team might as well be a hat-tourney team on the West Coast, plus a couple of Philippinas. The two local members of the team host us for the weekend in brilliant fashion.

Feeding and sheltering on Friday quickly gives way to readying for another Asian tradition: the pre-tournament party. I’ve seen Friday parties in the States, but in Manila they are serious about getting friends together on the day before the play. As Friday night draws to a groggy, absinthe-y close we are well-fed, loaded, and excited to play in the morning.

The Manila tournament is a lesson in limited resources. Since fields can be tough to find, especially on the heels of the rainy season, we are limited to an expensive park that can fit 6 fields at a time. This is THE grass tournament of the year here (there is a Beach tournament in March) so everyone is in, even with Worlds having sapped the energy of many of the top players. 19 teams are registered, 14 are Philippino. (How many states do
you know that will put in 14 teams in a co-ed tournament?) Games, therefore, are shortened to 1 hour each, with a mandatory 5-minute halftime at 30 minutes (or 7 points, whichever happens first). While this seems shockingly short, it does not take the entire half-hour for me to wish for mandatory quarter breaks. This heat is for real. Teams have 3-4 games during the day, and a smattering of 3-4 byes throughout.  Labor and
organization is not limited, however, and the tournament runs more smoothly than most American tournaments. Kudos to the organizers who obviously, and deservedly, take great pride in their work.

The level of play is a very interesting topic. In the US, I feel like I can usually walk onto any given field and be able to describe the level, at least in general terms, within about 15 seconds of the first pull. I’m out of my element in Asia, though, and defining what I am seeing on the field is tricky. More subtle, somehow. In coming to my own understanding of how this country plays Ultimate, I was struck by a couple of things:

1. The average player is significantly more skilled than I expected them to be.
2. The average teams are hindered much more by fundamentals than by strategy.
3. The best local players are inexperienced, and though skill and athleticism are not limiting, consistency and guile is.
4. Perhaps most important: Excluding expats, no one here has played more than 5 years.

I was shocked when I learned #4. Even your city pickup game probably has a couple of people that have played for 7-8 years, if only at a pickup level. The vast majority of Philippine players have played for less time than the typical learned-in-college senior. Comparing this nation’s Ultimate to a developed scene (Chicago or Sydney, perhaps) would necessarily show a lack of finesse. More fairly, to compare against a younger scene (one where most or all of the players are relatively new to the game) is wonderful. In less time than most cities take to develop a league, the Philippines have regular games and leagues, spread throughout a poor country on many different islands, and hundreds upon hundreds of local, young players picking up the game at a relatively high level. I repeat: I was shocked.

There is no better display of this growth, I think, than the Boracay Dragons. Despite their obvious handicap (being forced to live on a tiny island paradise), this is a young, exciting group of devoted and developed players. Ranging from 11 years old to 40 somethings, the Dragons are the kids of the scene. They are exciting and impatient. Impressively raw skill. They challenge the best players, and even the All-Star team is looking over its shoulder. The best players know that Bora, and teams like them, are the future. One 11-year-old, in particular, could play with the best high-schoolers in Seattle, without a doubt. This is a team that keeps a daily pickup beach game going in their hometown. In fact, the one story told without fail is how these kids are nearly unbeatable on the beach. [Editor's Note: it turns out that the Dragons are beatable on the beach…but only in the World Beach Finals, in Brazil. They are still unbeaten on home turf, and are gunning for future beach glory after their performance at Beach Worlds]. Theorizing wildly, other players speculate on this penchant for Oceanside success…Because they grow up on the sand? Differential body mechanics? Maybe it is the style of throwing to space and aggressively attacking the disc that makes them very good on grass and downright frightening on sand. They throw fast and low, they run hard, they bring it on D. And they are only getting better.

After more cups of cold Milo and 6 games, my team made it through the semifinals after a challenge from Saipan. Ostensibly a Chinese team, this is in fact more accurately a post-military team of expats that seem to all be ex-lineman and somewhat new to the team–as if a Navy base intramural football team had decided to take up Ultimate for a little more fun and travel. They played hard, and while they had a much more intense persona than any other team at the tournament, they had good spirit and seem to
have fun learning a new sport.

Our opponents in the finals were known simply by the name of the host organization, PULA. This is the Philippine All-Star team, fresh off a showing at Worlds in the mixed division. They finished 30th out of 40, but with a bullet (having come in seeded 35th). Several top players had taken this weekend off, but the team on the field was a good representation of the caliber, if not the depth, of the top of the Philippine game.

The final started, with PULA struggling to match the level of our Shanghai (an assortment of expats included several very, very good US players, a former Furious player, and 3 current Sockeye players). PULA had crushed every opponent to this point, and were not yet ready for a team that would not turn the disc readily (2 turns in the first half) and that played more sophisticated D. In reality, the real game started around halftime, when PULA began to realize that their opponents were not untouchable and that, in both athleticism and skill, the match was roughly equal. The second half played out almost perfectly even, score-wise, and PULA was able to show off some of the things that they do well.

More specifically, then. PULA (and Philippine ultimate in general) is very advanced in terms of offensive strategy. Each team seems comfortable with vertical stack offense, though most choose between several horizontal stacks for their offensive points. In games featuring 2 Philippine teams, typical points involve both teams using flat-stack configurations to set up huck looks, isolating middle cutters to either immediately cut deep, or cut in and launch long throws. PULA typifies another common advance among
the islands; they commonly place a main handler downfield to be a primary in-cutter and then provide the throwing threat from the middle of the pitch.

The physicality of pivoting and faking is very well understood; most players at all levels have nice balance, good reach on their throws, and pivot actively with the disc. Like most younger players, they tend to direct their body away from the center of the field when on the sideline, but this is to be expected when the premium is on completing short throws or throwing hucks rather than breaking down the defensive mark. On the other hand, this is a young team that does not fake with each other. While a thrower might fake well, it usually is not a threat if the defense communicates well, and players do not react to each others fakes to pick on defenders. Again, these are subtleties that are developing and will continue as breaking down team defense becomes more important.

This dichotomy of good physical fundamentals but less refined improvisation repeats itself in areas like downfield defending, marking, and cutting. The best Philippine players seem to be a season of club ultimate away from really being very impressive. Having more high quality tournaments is always a goal that comes up in conversations about improvement. Experience is the key for this country’s scene in general. The Japanese seem to be an excellent example of this. They have recently transformed their overall level of national play from skilled to top-level [Editor’s Note: since the writing of this article, Japanese men’s and women’s teams have solidified their places in the top echelon of Ultimate. Notably, the Japanese women were the only team in 2008 to beat Fury, and they did it twice. The Buzz Bullets beat every opponent at World’s not from Canada or the US]. It seems that they have made a focused effort to bring in that influence, both by competing in US tournaments (The Emerald City Classic in Seattle, for example) and by bringing top North American talent in (hosting Furious for a tournament, bringing in coaches from across the Pacific). Can this be done in the Philippines? Unfortunately, this is not likely to be cheap and the Philippines is not a country that can afford to send teams abroad often. While this capacity is growing, it can probably not be counted on to be the major factor in improving the level of play.

Philippine ultimate has some interesting highlights. For starters, play is extremely quick. Similar again to the Japanese, Philippine play has a faster side-to-side feel and very quick movement of the disc, especially downfield. This is not to say that Philippine ultimate is like a baby version of the Japanese, but their styles do have some similarity. You can see the seeds of a very effective style of offense that, in true Philippine tradition, will be able to blend the quickness of the Asian game (both offensively and defensively, on the mark) with the long-ball game of North America. Several times in our game, the rhythm of short-short-dish-long was able to open up deep shots against us, putting to use both the handling skills of short, quick players with the raw athleticism of their deep threats. It is true that Philippine ultimate is inconsistent. It is similar to watching a very good college team that can look amazing on one point, fumbling the next. As this next generation of strong national players comes through, look for the inconsistency to be weeded out at the top, and the rapid, precise play to become more expected.

I was less interested in individual play than in the general level, but two players in particular illustrated the potential of the scene right now. Suffice to say, there was at least one player under 22 of each gender on PULA that could be playing big-time club in the US. ********* [Editor’s Note: Names removed because the author didn’t ask their permission to use their names before publishing] plays ultimate when he is not competing in rock-climbing events. He is one of PULA’s main handlers, and backed up his Mohawk by being savvy with the disc and active without, as well as being quick and tough enough to match up with our best handlers. He seemed to epitomize this Philippine style; the ability to play the short game with half-an-eye on the goal from any distance. On the female side, it took me all weekend to convince myself of what I thought at the first round: PULA’s best woman would make Riot, today, as a defensive handler that would get blocks and keep the disc moving quickly. Her name is ***, and she is 19 years old.

The Ultivillage revolution is alive and well. UPA games are watched and digested here, as they are throughout Asia, by voracious young players. What used to take decades will now take mere years. The information is out there. While a US$20 subscription might be out of the realm of household possibility, there is always the Asian solution: knockoff. Ultivillage is either going to be pleased or enraged to know that it is in many homes
in the Philippines. The influence is spreading, but mostly through black market copies. The availability of game footage from top teams has had a marked effect on increasing the level of play.

Growth in skill and numbers is assured here. Philippinos are devoted sportsmen, and the game is cheap to play and develop.  Self-officiating has not yet been challenged by the growth of competitive play, but it seems an easy place for Spirit to continue to flourish, and it has. There is not a huge emphasis on cheering or costumes, but it is typical of this
country to play with a smile and to enjoy good competition. The combination of expat coaches and local leaders has done very well. The post-tourney celebration was, in fact, one of the most spirited ways to end a tournament I have ever been a part of. Following the game and the trophy ceremony, a troupe of fire-dancers and a native drum corp led the dancing and singing through dusk and into dark. By the end of the official festivities, 90% of the tournament was still on the fields, sharing drinks and food. Small groups of people split off to play smaller disc games, or simply to catch up with old friends. Other three- and four-somes scattered to quieter areas to discuss strategy, recount games, and trade advice on skills—and these were not solely the elite players. A very healthy attitude of self-improvement and mutual support exists well after the tournament is over.

After Worlds, I had left Australia sorry to leave such a fun tournament, and relatively neutral about the level of international play. Other countries are improving, but still in general behind North America. After Manila, however, I left with the understanding that I had seen something young, something guaranteed to grow strong quickly.  The Philippines are an exciting place to watch Ultimate right now. I found it similar to watching middle- or high-school Ultimate in the US: no matter how good it seems right now, you can envision how much better it will be in just a few years. You can watch individuals and teams get better every game, to say nothing of over the course of a tournament.  I would be amazed at the development even if we weren’t in a disconnected, exposed, developing country. This rapid progress, given the difficulties inherent in sports growth in the Philippines, is a tribute to the people that coach, organize and play here.

LINKS: Philippine Ultimate Association & Manila Spirits 2008