“Most Memorable Moments”

If you’ve ever been to a Guts tournament, as a player or even just as a fan, you probably have experienced a variety of emotions: from extreme highs and downright dejection to “first-evers” to wonderment and baffleage – no matter – you have known some “Most Memorable Moments” in Guts. Here are some of the best. If you would like to add to this “fine” collection of stories, please take a few minutes to put that story in writing and share it with the rest of us. Send your MMM’s to platterman@aol.com. – Steve Trauger

Like everyone else, I can think of a lot of funny moments. I think one of my funniest memories was one of the IFT’s, which I think was in Lake Linden. Dean DePetro was up from Florida and they combined all of the DePetro’s, along with Scott and Randy Smith to form “Where Day Go”. Saturday night before we went out, Bill DePetro gave Randy Smith and Pete DePetro the job of getting as many Cupola guys as drunk as possible so they were hung over for the next day. The plan went well until they (Randy and Pete) missed the last ride from Uphill 41 back to their hotel by the field. Being good Yoopers, they took advantage of this to stop for a twelve pack to keep them company as they walked the eleven miles back to the field! They did have some success as the DePetro team beat Cupola on Sunday in the finals. – Dan Gannon

Most memorable moments, let's see. I can recall two, readily available. 1. Sheboygan. Can't remember the year but we (Beer City) were partying with crazy Lenny (Campagna) and the boys (Mental Toss Flycoons) on Saturday night and decided to eat. Driving down the highway, we saw a sign that read "Scrotum $2.95 All You Can Eat". Oh, yeah, can't pass this up! We were finishing up and the question arose: Where's David (Trauger)? We checked the restaurant and bathrooms. No luck. We started thinking, maybe he's in the car. Nope. Not there. What the hell? We started walking around the parking lot, and lo and behold, we found David passed out in the front seat of a car with the door wide open. No idea whose car but we weren’t gonna wait and find out! Dragged him out, threw him in our vehicle, and went back to the hotel. I wonder if he hurled in that car? 2. When we drove to the U.P., we usually had some kind of mischief going on and this was no exception. BOTTLE ROCKET WARS!! I was driving the lead car and Bob (Morrison) was behind. Everyone was shooting rockets at each other driving down the road!! We pulled up to an intersection on U.S. 2 and I noticed a guy sitting on the side of the road with the hood up and a boat behind him. The guy was talking on a radio or CB, when bang! Colbs (Mike Colburn) had shot a rocket off and it exploded right by the guys head! Uh-oh – drive like hell to get away! Next thing I knew, we had red lights in the rear view mirror. The guy on the CB was D.N.R. (Department of Natural Resources) and had radioed it in. So there we were, sitting at the cop shop for what seemed like forever, when the cop finally came in and said, "Let's take a look at your car." Not good. Yeah, empties all over and bottle rockets sitting on the seat next to the half-empty cooler. Busted, right? Nope. The guy turns out to be a Guts fan!! "Put the cooler in the trunk, AND the fireworks, and if I see or hear of you guys again, you're done." Just as the cop was about to let us go, the D.N.R. agent showed up. But he said that we weren’t the people that had shot off the rocket and they let us go!! “Where's the tourney?” he asked. We told him and he said something like "Have a good time but you'll never beat the Marquette team.” Huh! Damn right, we did! – Mike Colden

Can't keep the old Finn quiet for two long. I have three, of many, in reverse order of importance. 3. The first: IFT, 1974. We were Al's Halfway and after attending the ‘73 IFT as a manager for the Screaming Yellow Zonkers, I got to play with Danny (Dan Thornton), Kimby (Bill Kimball), Tad (Tad Turner), Billy Newman, and Norm Parks. We did very well: 4th out of a million teams. Made the cover of the Milwaukee Journal (color photo) and inside (black and white photos) of Milwaukee Sentinel. Huge crowds, tremendously hot weather, and among the many great memories, I had my "rookie" moment: I bagged Phil Roth from Humblies – he had this heavy thumber – two in a row! As we changed ends, with my hand still pounding, I said, "Nice shot." I meant it. Phil said, "F#%& you. You caught it!" and laughed. What did I know? 2. The finals in the IFT, 1978. Paul's Bar vs. Library Bar. Paul’s didn’t lose a game till the finals. Same team as ‘74, minus Billy Newman, who played with the Library. We added Duane Haralson and Mike Antioho. Bagged Joe Youngman when he peeled the top of my pinky back and I had to tape it back down. I do the clapping thing, you know, so I'm clapping and splattering Mike Antioho with blood all up and down his side. Every year this gets bigger in my mind, but the last three or four points, when the entire Keweenaw was yelling (or so it seemed), and it was the loudest, biggest crowd, and there was only two points difference in three games, it's hard to compare, really. When Guts was at its zenith, I got to play in the finals of THE Biggest Tournament! 1. Last year's IFT (2005) with the Breakers. It was incredible to be in the finals again with a great gang of goofballs: Ron Blau, Ron Arvo, Billy Gagnon, Scott Stewart, Rick LaRue, Grumpu (Brian) Townsend, and especially, getting to play with my son (John) on the team. Absolutely, it tops them all. – Dennis Walikainen

Iron Mountain in the U.P., sometime in the early 80's, and my teammates and I were attending the players’ party as we were wont to do in those days. The party was at a local drinking establishment whose name escapes me now. As I remember it, pitchers of Kamikazes where only a buck or two and we were served with a handful of straws placed inside of the pitcher. It was kind of a community drinking thing. There were many pitchers sitting on the bar. All was going well and good times were being had by everyone. I was hitting on some Marquette girls but noticed that now and then I was getting pelted by little pieces of ice. I'd look around after each hit, only to see everyone just sitting around like innocent little school kids. Finally, after one particularly large hunk of ice ricocheted off my noggin, I positioned one of my Beer City Express teammates in a strategic location to try and catch the perpetrator. Sure enough, we figured out it was little Dez and he was using the straw as a pea shooter to launch those icy pieces found in the pitchers. Well, not being those who run from a fair game, we had only one choice and that was to return fire. We were out numbered 5 to 1 – Yoopers vs. Cheeseheads! The situation deteriorated rapidly after the first few volleys and what at first started out as straw fights, turned into hands full of ice, then finally, full pitchers of Kamikazes! We totally trashed that bar and were escorted out of the place in no uncertain terms and advised never to return. My teammates and I suffered minor casualties, basically just a bath of vodka. But we got our pay backs the next day, as we kicked some U.P. ass and won the tourney! – Mike Colburn

The Mill City Flyers of Minnesota got a win (OK, officially a tie for first) at the Sheboygan regional in 1980. The tourney was held in Vollrath Park, right on Lake Michigan. The tourney site was very cool, in that the Guts courts were situated on a football-sized field located at the bottom of a “bowl” with grassy hillsides for spectator seating available on about five tiered levels all around the field. Guts was the team event in the Wisconsin State Flying Disc Championships, which also included MTA, Freestyle, Disc Golf, and the always popular Canine event. The Frisbee dogs always brought out a bunch of spectators. It was double-elimination and best two-out-of-three games matches and about 15 teams, which was pretty big for a regional but because there were so many teams entered, it took way too long to complete, especially with all of the field events. Finally, it was Mill City vs. Mental Toss Flycoons in the finals. Just as the first game got started, the fog began to roll in off the lake. Heavy fog so that you could not see the thrower. We have photos of the disc glowing eerily orange! It was too dangerous to continue play with no hope of the fog clearing out and at 6-5, in favor of Mill City; Bruce Wilk (the tourney TD) had to call it off. I think we split the prize money 50/50 but the Bratwurst City Frisbee Club always awarded medals for the first place team members. We flipped discs for the medals, one by one. Mill City won all six! The official records show that the tournament ended in a tie for first but Mill City won it! – Steve Trauger

I remember playing 151 at the IFT in a cold, damp Saturday evening match that must have lasted three hours. One side of the crowd was chanting “151! 151!” and the other side was hollering “Beer City Express! Beer City Express!” Maybe some of you recall my teammates: my brothers Steve and Tim, and Mike Colden, Mike Colburn, The Wheels (Tom Wheeler), and of course, Bob Morrison. Beer City Bob was our captain, and on the last play of the match, the disc came to me and he threw his ugly Scottish hat down on the ground for me to use as a marker for that turnaround I used to throw. I ran up to the line and released and scored! We had won! It was over! But not quite yet. 151 called a foot fault and the melee began. I seem to recall Red (Dan Beckman) being one of the observers and after MUCH discussion made the call of “No Foot Fault” and I thought we were dead. In the U.P. and being from Wisconsin. But they were all talk and we went on to finish 3rd that year, losing to Motor City 'cause we couldn't catch an aging but still respectable guy named Tom Matuzak. Who'd a thunk? – David Trauger

In 1992, I think, the World Guts Tournament or something was going on in Lansing, right down the street from me. Mark Banghart was my neighbor and said I should go down with him and his boys to compete in the kids division. That was my first tournament. Fast-forward to 2004. The IFT was a reunion tournament. Mark went with two of his three sons (Mike and Danny). I was off working that summer so I couldn't go and I hadn’t played Guts in literally ten plus years. Danny came back pumped up about Guts. I was kinda excited, too, considering Danny never does anything. So we made plans to go to Chicago for the 3rd Chi-land Classic. We sucked and took last. All we talked about on the ride home was how we needed to form a team for the IFT in ‘05. Well, that summer we had a few practices and took 4th out of five teams. We did OK but expected to do a whole lot better. Johnny B. and the rest of the Guts people presented us with a Guts Pro with a bunch of signatures on it to keep the game of Guts going. We played three times a week from the day after the IFT up until the Nationals and finally took second. Cupola showed us they still owned the field but I came away with a bunch of memories. I bagged Dave Young and Johnny B. in the same match but they still got the best of us. Next year, the IFT is Boomtown's so bring it on suckers! – Ryan Scott

I took Norm Dinser's "Air Disk Brake" hat off his head cleanly in the finals at the GPA Worlds in 1982. What happened didn't register immediately with me but my Beer City Express teammates went nuts! They all rushed over to "collect" the trophy! Man, if that hat wasn't dirty when Norm was wearing it, it got stomped-on dirty on the way back! It was a great momentum shift but not quite enough good luck – Cupola still beat us in two. I wore that hat for a few years during tournament play but finally lost it in Lake Superior, while swimming. For some “strange” and psycho-delicious reason, I decided to take a dip in the lake, following my team's win in "Rare" Willie Leffel's FBW Paper Plate Guts at the Queen City Flyers annual after-US Nationals party in '86. Someday later, and about halfway home, I woke up in the back seat of my own car in the parking lot of PeeWee's in Pound. Somehow, I still had my glasses in my hand but no wallet. Upon entering the bar, I discovered my wallet had preceded me. David (Trauger) and (Beer City) Bob Morrison drinking beers (poundin’ ‘em in Pound) and eating burgers, on me! – Steve Trauger

1988 GPA World Championship finals in Lansing, MI. After a particularly exciting exchange of throws and catches between Queen City and Cupola, and with a sizeable crowd looking on. Rally (Larry Letts) prepared for the next throw. He took a deep breath and began his approach to the line. He performed his wind up in his normal (and unique) fashion to make his throw. Just at the point when he released the disc, he either hit another body part with the disc or had it hang on a finger. In any case, he released the disc, which fluttered directly vertical, then wafted behind him to land about 20 feet BEHIND the thrower's line, never having crossed the line. Of course, the crowd erupted in laughter and cries of "WHOOOAAAA!" I remember I was standing next to a picnic table. On it were standing Len Campagna, Roy Carey and (I believe) Dave Brown. They fell off the table laughing! A discussion ensued, as to whether the attempted throw was a dump or a no-throw since the disc never crossed the line. I don't recall who the observers were but the discussion lasted a good five minutes. In the end, they determined that the disc was released with the intention of making a throw; therefore, it was ruled a dump. Sorry, Rally. With all the great Guts you've played, you'd think I'd have a more vivid image come to mind – but none does! – Gene Marsh

1985 GPA Worlds in Toronto. Now, come on, if you were working the US-Canada border and saw 13 young people in a motor home, wouldn’t you pull them over for an inspection? Wouldn’t that be, like, mandatory? We were ready. We had chain-smoked and done everything we had on the trip from Milwaukee. They waved us through. OK, then. We were on a mission. Had new team jackets, baby! Dire Straits' Money For Nothing was all over the airwaves that week. We even had a motto: ‘Didn’t Come Here To Make No Friends’. (Maybe we really did play better straight. Na, that couldn’t be.) What I do know is that Beer City went undefeated and became World Champs! What I remember most about Toronto were a couple of awesomely great moments and each featured one of my brothers – the real Trauger brothers! The first one was in our first game, on our first exchange. We drew Tramp’s II, featuring John Blakely, Canada’s best backhand at the time – a real flame-thrower, we were hearing. They won ‘Throw’ on the flip and Blakely cranked one! David (Trauger) bagged him and we watched them wilt before our eyes. They just could not believe it. Blakely got bagged? It was over immediately. We won 21-9. Another great moment happened in the championship game. We brought Tim (he calls himself ‘The Unknown Trauger’) in to play wing and Acme thought there was a glimmer of hope. Wrong. He upped both shots thrown at him and I caught both about six running steps out the back on dives! – Steve Trauger

Breakers take a unknown rookie (David Leeds) to the Chicagoland Classic in 2003 and ride him all the way to the finals, where they beat Cupola...but I think this year IFT will be my most memorable so far... – David Leeds

I'll never forget the Strohling Rocks first IFT, in 1982. The distance to Houghton/Hancock from Midland became a bit longer than usual that trip. Tracy Konecny, Patty Flynn, Sheri Nevins and I (then Linda Morrison), drove up together in my 1970 Buick Skylark. Our first mistake was letting Tracy drive over the Mackinaw Bridge because subsequently, she missed the correct turn-off. I had dozed off and after almost an hour of heading in the wrong direction, I woke up and was dismayed to see signs indicating we were on our way to Sault Ste Marie. Oops! With the help of the map, we navigated some back roads and got back on track. But there didn't seem to be any gas stations in the UP, unless you were on a major highway, so by the time we reached Munising, we were running on fumes and the gas stations there were closed for the night. I knew of a State Park nearby (from previous camping experiences) so we made our way there to sleep until morning when we could secure fuel to make the rest of the trip. Having no camping supplies on hand, Sheri and Tracy slept inside the car, while Patty and I slept on the hood of the car where it remained slightly warm, at least for a little while. As uncomfortable and cold as we were by morning, it was no problem waking up early enough to get back on the road and eventually ended up making it to Houghton in time to get registered and compete in the IFT. We were thrilled to take second in that tournament, and after the interesting trip up, I'm sure we consumed plenty of beer as well! – Linda Morrison Lovick

I played with a team of "never was’” at the IFT that was held behind the casino in Baraga. I don't remember the year but there were several memorable moments from that one. Anyway, I was trying to get my team pumped up because we were getting humiliated by Cupola. Dropped the first game, something like 21 to single digits. So, right before a Johnny B. two-finger, I was running up and down the line SCREAMING at my teammates to bag one! I remember telling them his two-finger flew just a like a thumber, and they should just hold their hands up and catch it! So, of course, Johnny throws right at me. Hit right in my hand and I bagged it! Holy crap! Bagged Johnny B.! I threw something back – probably just a backhand ‘cuz I was way too excited to risk one of my questionable flippers. Missed Skids by two men and Johnny dropped it! He lined up right across from me, threw the exact same shot, AND I BAGGED HIM AGAIN! I threw my next shot at Skids and hit him and scored. Those two points (and soaks) got us going so that we ended up winning that second game (before collapsing in the third). I swear that John Begoske did not throw at me again for ten years! – Don Hirst

Mill City Flyers of Minnesota had California Foothill on the ropes at the 1980 GPA Worlds in Midland. Yes, on the ropes. Mill City was John Greig, Steve Wachholz, Dave Wagner, Erik Englund, and me (Steve Trauger), with Howard Gerdes as sixth man. Howard had the unhappy distinction of being the only person I’ve ever heard of who broke his arm throwing a thumber! Anyway, after three plus hours of great Guts from both teams, we were up 20-19 in Game 3 with the disc! We had won a couple of regionals by then but this was our first big opportunity to soar with eagles! And we let them get away. Steve (not me) dumped what could have been match point and we ended up losing. Foothill went on to beat Motor City in the finals to win their second Worlds in back-to-back fashion. It was a long, long ride back to Chumpsville for Mill City. Steve Wachholz did have a remarkable catch once, though. As he was falling onto his back, the disc landed flat on his chest for a clean, no-hands catch – probably another moment that has not been repeated!! – Steve Trauger

I don't recall what year it was, 1975 perhaps, but Sky King, Bruce Koger, Joe Essman, Don Robinson and I were on a team called "You Gotta Believe". Sky King was in an Eastern Airline TV commercial where he is shown sitting in the pilot's seat. He looks into the camera and says, "You gotta believe I'm going to give you the smoothest ride possible". You Gotta Believe was the catch phrase for the ad campaign and became our team name. – Mark Banghart

The year before the Mental Toss Flycoons finally broke through and won the US Nationals, in the second of what would be five straight years of appearing in the finals, the Flycoons were playing Video Sensations in the 1987 finals at Marquette Mountain. This was a match of ‘No-Back-Down-For-Nothing’ teams, both featuring premiere backhands – Dave Meyer and Pat Tower for the Flycoons and Dave Young for Video – all throwing smoke! The Flycoons had Chris Golden throwing his occasionally baffling flipper. But the real treasure of the finals was the extraordinary display of bags, first-contact hands, and pursuit of the disc. Everyone, without exception, was on their game for catching (yes, even Pat Tower a guy known for his throw more than his hands). The real display of Guts catching was put on by four guys: Gary Ciaglaski and Joe Welch for Video, and Len Campagna and Chris Golden for the Flycoons. I have not seen a more competitive, well-played, drawn-out-with-catches finals match. On one particular set of exchanges, Dave Meyer threw smoke at near the extent of Gary Ciaglaski's reach. He nearly left his feet to get a good, solid palm on the disc. The disc went at a sideways angle to the line, and Joe Welch turned the opposite way and started running. At full speed and stretched out to his limit, Joe caught the disc running uphill, then rolled into the cinders. On the return throw, Joe put the disc at ankle level to the left of Len Campagna. Len popped the disc forward, fluttering quickly toward the Video side of the field. Chris Golden shifted directions toward the disc, and running, lunged forward to catch it in his fingertips, while planting his face into the ground. He was still picking cinders out of his knee on the way home to Chicago. That is one exchange of many like it in the finals. The games ended up Flycoons-Video-Video by scores of 21-19, 24-22 and 23-21. I defy anyone to show me a closer finals result – or a more enjoyable match to watch! – Gene Marsh

Bathroom Victim! Bathroom Victim! Yes, I was the Bathroom Victim one year at Iron Mountain. Not one of my more shining moments but certainly memorable. Beer City was playing well, advancing steadily through the Winner’s Bracket. For those of you who know me, I did not go to the UP to “strengthen the gene pool” as Willie Leffel puts it, regarding the idea that Motor City was invited to the UP for just that reason! But a very attractive local girl was into me in a big way. She was camping there at Lake Antoine, as were we. I was feeling lucky! The day ended and she and I had decided to meet later at the player’s party that Guts Mountain had set up at the Fire Alarm bar. I had just gotten there and spied “my” girl on the dance floor with another Guts player and decided to hit the can before checking her out more closely. I must have heard a joke as I was entering the bathroom because a guy in a tuxedo (the groom, as it turned out, in the wedding party that was also enjoying the Fire Alarm scene) glared at me and said, “Are you laughing at me?” I thought I ignored him (or maybe not!) and went into a stall and closed the door but for some unknown reason, I didn’t latch it. (Fool.) There I was, just standing there, ready to take a leak, and the door crashed in on me and, suddenly, I was in a fight, which I’m never in because, well, I don’t do well in fights. This one didn’t go my way either. My glasses were broken but at least I had found them. The next thing I knew, there was a bouncer blocking the door and had me contained in the bathroom. The wedding party was being escorted out to their cars. Good thing, too. Remember a guy aptly nicknamed ‘Sequoia’? He and Mo Fisher became my best friends and wanted some retaliation in a way of large persuasion and that place was moments away from erupting. It would not have been pretty. The wedding party got away, and I didn’t see “my” girl until the next morning. Somehow, I had made it back to my car at the camp site but was too wrecked to even set up the tent or use my sleeping bag. I must have just sat down to take off my shoes and fell backwards onto the backseat. What mosquitoes? Morning came and I sat up and put on my broken glasses and looked out the back window, just in time to see “my” girl, kissing some guy “Goodbye” and giving him one last look at her big American breasts! The ‘Bathroom Victim’. It became our rallying cry. Beer City did end up winning but I still wonder if it was worth it… – Steve Trauger

In 1966, George Anderson was vacation traveling in the U.P. and accidentally stumbled upon the Fourth of July annual picnic put on by the Healy family at their summer home in Copper Harbor. The family owned the Healy Insurance Agency in Houghton. The family knew hundreds of people in the area – many of whom were customers of Healy Insurance. The picnic originally was just for the Healy family but grew each year because of free beer and a friendly attitude of the Healy’s. By 1966, the Guts Frisbee tournament had become a regular feature of the picnic. No mater how many teams entered the tournament, the Healy’s always won. The reason was that they knew how to actually throw and catch a Frisbee, they made up the rules, and they could still function after consuming a great deal of beer. George had a wonderful weekend. He learned that no one used their real name because playing drunken Guts Frisbee was not something respectable businessmen and professionals did. The Healy’s named him “Thor of the North”. On his way home George stopped by my home in Illinois and told me about this weird and wonderful event in Copper Harbor. He knew that I and his brother Hugh had been playing Frisbee for several years beginning with our days (1953 -1957) at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. George said, “Paul, I think we could go up there next year and pick up some team members and actually win the tournament.” So the next year, 1967, George picked me up at my house near Marengo, Illinois on Friday and we drove to Copper Harbor, arriving just as the Healy’s Friday night steak cookout was getting under way. George had told me that they only knew him as “Thor” and that I needed to pick a nickname for myself. I thought that this was a little foolish but as we got out of the car at the cookout and a swarm of half drunken guys each with two beers in their hands came rushing up to our car shouting, “Thor! Thor!” I quickly saw the advantage of not reveling that I was Paul Richardson, airline pilot. One of them put out his hand and said, “Hi, I’m Boots.” I replied, “I’m Sky King”. As I recall, the tournament got underway about noon the next day and that there were at least twenty, five-man teams. Thor and I scouted the potential players warming up and recruited three individuals from the Detroit area. They had never played Guts before but had played catch with a Frisbee. One was a medical technician so we named him Doctor Kildare, after a famous TV show of the day. Another we named Charlie Brown, and the third we named Steel Hands because he could actually catch a Frisbee. We never knew their real names and never saw them again after the tournament. We played many games that day and got better as the day progressed. We never lost because only a few of the teams knew what was going on. As I recall, it was a two day tournament but I might be wrong about that. In any event, we won our way to the final match against the Healy’s North Central. No team had ever beaten them in all the years of the tournament. It was close but we were clearly better and won. As we got closer to victory, the Healy’s kept adding rules and demanding that we had to drink more beer, which we did. They were stunned to lose. They didn’t want to let us have the trophy. They said it couldn’t leave the U.P. One of our Detroit team members took the trophy home with the promise that each of us would have it during the year. I never saw the trophy again that year. – Sky King Richardson

I’ll have to ask David (Trauger) and some of the other Beer City players for their recollections of this memorable moment. The GPA Worlds in Midland was over; Beer City had stayed (too) late to party – hopefully, someone will tell me we made the semis? At any rate, it was over and we had to get going in order to make the ferry in Ludington. Everyone was crisp and about the time we piled into my car, the Plymouth Dustpan, I fell asleep, as did everyone else except David, who volunteered to get us to Ludington in time for the boat trip back to Cheeseland. A couple of hours later, someone woke up and noticed a sign that indicated that we had gone a couple of hours in the wrong direction! And it got worse. We were low on gas, it was late at night, we were in the middle of nowhere, and we were seriously short on cash. Luckily, we had purchased round trip ferry tickets so all we had to do was make it back to Ludington. I had sold some collectible plastic at the tournament but I had been paid with a check and that was all we had to work with. Finally, we located a gas station that was still open, and I convinced a nice old man to take the check in payment for gasoline. When we got back on the road again, someone looked at their ticket to realize we were still in trouble. Now we were racing the clock! The ferry runs on a schedule and it was going to be close. If we didn’t make it, we would be sitting at the boat ramp in Ludington for another whole day, which was not good at all, as some of us were supposed to be at work in the morning! Luck was again with us! We pulled into the launch area at what turned out to be just in time. We waved our ticket at the gatekeeper and drove onto the ferry. By the time we got out of the car, the ferry had pulled away from the dock! Our misadventure still was not over! None of us had any money; we had spent everything on beer at the tourney so we couldn’t buy food or soft drinks. Not even gum or candy. All we could do was try to sleep sitting on the benches, and if I remember correctly, it was raining so we couldn’t even be outside. And none of us smelled very good by then either. – Steve Trauger

My most memorable Guts moment came at Blaine, MN during the WFDF World Championships, which I think were in 1998. I was sitting at the bar with most of the Bud Light team and the team from Taiwan. One of the players told Willy DePetro that they had practiced for six hours that day in preparation for the tournament. Will gave him one of those looks, held up his beer and said, “Well, I’ve had six beers and that counts for practice in the U.P. and then proceeded to order another round. I don’t think the guy knew what to think about that one, especially since Crack (Mark DePetro) was there with us. – Dan Gannon

Bad Ride #1 – On the way to an early 80's IFT: Pete Turcaj drove from Toronto to drive the rest of the way with Steve Buckley, a friend of ours named Larry, and me. We left late Friday night and missed the turn at the bridge and headed toward Sault Ste Marie, knowing it was longer but now was easier than turning back. Somewhere in the a.m. hours, we crashed and totaled the car. We went off the highway embankment and flipped end-over-end at least once. We should have died but were all okay except for some stitches I got in my lower back and in my face from being tossed around in broken window glass. If we had landed on the roof, we would all be dead. A passerby called for an ambulance but since we were down the embankment, the ambulance never found us until daylight. So we sat there in the cold many hours until morning. I got my stitches and we all had breakfast while we waited for the 11 a.m. bus to drive us back to Detroit. While eating, Steve commented on how depressing this was and how he did not want to go home. I agreed, and he and I decided to continue on to the IFT. Pete and Larry, being smarter, took the bus back home. Steve and I started hitchhiking at about noon on Saturday and went through a series of rides with very odd people. One of us would sleep while the other kept an eye on them. We could not find someone going the whole way and we ended up just past Marquette and finally had to get a room for the night (remember that there is a prison in the Marquette area and I had stitches in my face). We walked a short ways from the diner where we had gotten dropped off at to a small motel but they did not have a room available. But the owner could see how tired and upset we were so she called another motel down the road to confirm a room and then actually drove us there. We started Sunday morning refreshed and excited that we were less than 1 1/2 hours from the Snowmobile Club. We started hitchhiking but there were not very many cars going by and no one was giving us a second look. Depression started sinking in. Suddenly a van passed us and stopped about 50 yards down the road. I told Steve to run and get in before they could change their mind while I slowly lugged the luggage to the van. It was a young guy driving to Houghton for hockey camp. He said he was not going to pick us up but we looked so depressed that he had to. He drove us right to the site at 1 p.m. Our quest was over. We started partying wildly and telling the story over and over. Even with my great story, I did not get laid – I’m sure it was the stitches. We partied until early in the morning and when we got up, it was Monday and we have to drive back home. We had only been there, like, 20 hours. Gerard Newman kindly gave us a ride back in his van. – Carson Buchanan

Bad Ride #2 – Again, I am with Steve Buckley but this time we rode up to a Marquette tourney with John Sotir. John drove but had to go home Sunday night so Steve and I arranged a ride home with Gary Ciaglaski and Norm Dinser. Gary had a full size work van with no back seats or windows but it did have shag carpeting on the floor! We woke up Monday with gigantic hangovers and started the ride home. We found out that Gary and Norm had been camping all week before the tourney. Unfortunately, during the week a cooler full of bloody water had opened and doused the carpet which now smelled rancid. So, Steve and I are hungover and lying in the back of a windowless van in 95 degree heat – with flies, a large Black Labrador, and spoiled-meat-smelling carpet. On the plus side, we had saved $5 to spend between us for the day! Steve and I have learned not to travel together anymore. Not all trips were good but they would create lifelong bonds and friendships. – Carson Buchanan

I can’t remember the year but this memory is from the US Nationals in Marquette. Beer City never did very well at Marquette but this particular year, we were happening! It was late Saturday afternoon and it looked like we were going to get to play in the last game of the day and at Marquette, which would be something. We’d be playing in front of the entire Guts world! The spotlight! It was hot as hell that year and we were getting a little crispy and needed a wake up call, like, right now! Well, there was this little creek in the woods across the road that had some really cold water running in it. One by one, we each laid down in it, whooping and hollering as each guy submerged himself, and getting totally pumped up to play! It didn’t matter who our opponent would be; they were in trouble plenty! We charged up the hill and over to the playing fields only to discover that our match had been postponed and would be played early Sunday morning. Bah. – Steve Trauger

It was the World Championships in Midland Michigan 198??? Helter Skelter was matched up against the original Bad Apples club, the ones from Houghton-Hancock and various outreaches of the hinterlands known as the UP. I think Roger Hill, Brock, a tall fellow with blond hair and others....names escape me at the moment....were the Bad Apples. Me friends and I knew we were in for a battle as it was late in the day Sunday and we were fighting for our lives to make it to the next round. Weary from all the evening before residue and the days’ fortification, we discussed strategy about the upcoming match. One of our most creative, and theatrical, players (Fungus) came up with the idea to make a run to the grocery store and buy a bag of apples. On our way, we choreographed events to come. Prior to the first throw of the match, all members of Helter Skelter would chew an entire apple and hold the contents in our jaw. Just before the Bad Apples first throw, we would step off the line and spew, in unison, a combination of minced apples, drops of Budweiser, and who-knows-what-else at the opponent’s line. The plan was set. The Bad Apples won the toss and elected first shot. This played into our plan perfectly! As the shooter approached the line, all members of Skelter stepped forward and hurled the nasty apple mixture toward mid court. The shooter stopped dead in his tracks (in disbelief of the tacky behavior....even by Guts standards) and the entire Skelter crew erupted in tribal howl! The match was over before it started and HS went on to win by a wide margin (only to be eliminated in the next round by Hartland....probably served us right). In those days, we would try anything to get an edge! Hall of Fame material? Probably not. But we sure had fun and competed hard. To my brothers from Helter Skelter: Let's try it just one more time! PS: Nez...Why don't you tell the story of the IFT semis when your shades were shattered by a wicked Shmave (Dave Young) backhand. You were rushed to ER and returned in time for the end of the match. That was a wild one! – Doug Land

One of my favorite memories was on my first Guts road trip – to the 1978 U.S. Nationals with the Chicago team. I met the guys just days before the tournament and they took me as their 6th man. We made it to the semi finals, where Jose mooned a couple of hundred hostile Michiganders when we were playing Queen City! You can imagine the crowds’ reaction to that! Earlier in the tournament, we were playing Library Bar and I was hit in the eye off a deflected shot from Joe Youngman. Shortly after I could see again, I caught him clean! What a welcome to the wonderful world of Guts and disc sports! Thanks John (Connelly), Dave (Bradshaw), Chau (Rottman), Steve (Matul), and Jose (Montalvo)! – Don Wilchek (Editor’s Note: For a few years after that incident, LOTS of people mistook me (Steve Trauger) for Jose Montalvo! “Hey, Jose!” Sure, I accepted the admiration bestowed upon me! Now, I finally know what “I” did!)

Cheese curds? We (Beer City) had numerous incidents with the Queen City Flyers over the years; mostly, I have to say, initiated by them. A couple of memorable moments, which I would expect one of them to most gleefully recount, included having our adjoining motel doorknobs tied together, which in effect, locked us inside our rooms. This was fairly creative work. (I have since received a note from Steve DesJardins, in which he says, “I once heard that what really happened was that the "creative" culprits tied your doorknobs to the posts that held up the 2nd floor walkway. Just heard this once, I wouldn't really know if this is true or not, of course!!” Another incident, particularly deviant, involved duct taping our lawn chairs to the roof of one of our cars. This might have been funny but went a bit too far. Duct tape was applied from one side of the car to the other, going over the roof and taping the chairs to the roof, down the other side, and then under the car, and all the way around. The job was outright vandalism and not at all funny and, of course, no one wants to take the “credit” for that one. One year at Iron Mountain, we found ourselves in a Guts match against Queen City. Beer City, of course, was a Wisconsin team. (Duh – Beer City?) In this particular match, Queen City’s “fans” thought it was great fun to wait until we got set on the defensive line and a Queen City player was approaching the line to throw. We would be trying to concentrate on the throw and catching it and their fans were pelting us with handfuls of cheese curds! OK, granted, none of their shots was ever really that fast, but cheese curds? J – Steve Trauger

Submitted by Guts players, compiled and barely edited for public display by Steve Trauger, 2005-06