I wouldn’t consider my 2025 season a successful year of ultimate. My career-long goal — making the USA World Games roster — ended on a dusty field in San Antonio. The coaches had been clear: my path onto the team was as a center handler, driving the offense. And this was my moment.

Nancy Sun drew up a pull play to center me the disc and put Grant Lindsley in the lane. He had the option to go deep or come under for a gainer. I caught the centering pass, force backhand, and he took off. I launched the best throw of my life — a disc with perfect shape, float, and touch — drifting into space for a one-throw goal.

Except… he came under.

And that beautiful, hovering disc just hung in the air, taunting me. The coaches saw it. Everyone saw it. They could’ve asked me to pack up right there, but graciously they let me finish the weekend. The cut came in an email later that week.

Getting cut from the World Games team let me shift focus to the D.C. Breeze and our hunt for an elusive championship. But the clock was ticking — I knew I’d be moving to Portland, Maine after the season, making my future with the Breeze uncertain. If this was my final year, it ended in the worst possible way: we got blown out by Boston… a team packed with my club teammates, who then went on to win the championship two weeks later.

If you’re wondering how it feels to watch your club team win the UFA title without you? Not great.

When I joined them afterward for our club push with Dig Ultimate, I actually fit right in — on defense. Sliding over to the D-line wasn’t a shock. I’d turned the disc over a few too many times trying to play center handler the year before. In hindsight, I probably wasn’t in my ideal role either season, but I loved learning to play defense again alongside some of the best in the world. I worked all year to crack the “Krill” line, fell just short, and ended up watching universe point from the sideline.

That universe point was against Philadelphia Pacmen… and we didn’t score. Losing in pre-quarters at Nationals was a new kind of pain. Going into the tournament, I had reflected on all my losses this year and convinced myself that Dig and I were due. That a win would salvage my disaster of a season.

Instead, it turned a tough year into my worst season ever. 

But here’s where it gets interesting: while my 2025 ultimate season felt like a train wreck, my actual life was awesome. 

For the first time, I truly separated the two. My emotional well-being and my identity weren’t tied entirely to how I played or how my teams performed. And that was new.

I’m loving my relationship. Loving my new city. Building my ultimate training business full-time. Feeling genuinely at peace.

It’s been a great year. 

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Next week: “Raekwon Adkins and Father Time.”
*Also: My Losing Season is a great book recommendation from Lloyd Blake and inspired this title.

— Rowan