As he describes the situation, Gus Norrbom's face is scrunched up into an “ehhhhh…” expression of doubt. “Somebody on my team got a pretty good layout block on the goal line, and they called a strip… I don't think he had it, but the disc went back to Ring on the goal line and they scored the break.” In plain English: Gus's teammate made a flying block, but the opponent called a foul on him, negating the block, and scored a goal.
To ultimate frisbee players, Gus's story is immediately relatable — they all remember a suspect call that lost them a point. But for someone who doesn't play, one question is obvious: Why didn't Gus complain to the ref?
One of the most unusual aspects of this unusual game is that there are no referees: players make their own foul calls. It's all built on a concept called Spirit of the Game. Players are expected to be honest, fair, and civil towards opponents. But as the athletes playing ultimate have gotten bigger and faster, and the games more competitive, the shift away from “clean,” no contact play has accelerated. In a situation where it's my word against yours, what will people do? Will they acknowledge their mistakes — or use any means necessary to score the next point?
To understand the paradigm shift facing ultimate frisbee, it's important to understand the sport's beginnings. In 1967, high schoolers at Columbia High School in Maplewood, New Jersey took a Wham-O frisbee and created a few rules: no running with the frisbee, score by catching the frisbee in an end zone, and no player contact.
“Why not... skip that layer of having the refereeing and arguing about whether the referee made the right call?”
Columbia kids introduced the sport to other New Jersey high schoolers, such as Adam Jaffe. He says the exclusion of referees at the beginning was a practical matter, but is pleased that it's become fundamental over time: “Why not… skip that layer of having the refereeing and arguing about whether the referee made the right call?”
As an Economics Professor Emeritus at Brandeis University, Jaffe also offered a perspective into why ultimate frisbee is going through this struggle with dirty play: game theory. Jaffe estimates that ultimate is an unstable equilibrium: “from a theoretical perspective, it is inherently kind of an unstable environment because it does not have the property that if someone deviates, their incentive would be to return.” The temptation to break the equilibrium of playing clean has increased as ultimate players have gotten more athletic — as a result, the no-contact rule is treated as a technicality instead of something ironclad.
To resolve this problem, two American organizations have come up with different solutions for the highest level of play. The elite club circuit, seen as “proper” ultimate, uses observers in high-stakes matches: quasi-referees making active up-down, in-out calls and rulings on a foul if the players ask. On the other hand, the semi-pro American Ultimate Disc League (AUDL), an organization focused on increasing ultimate's audience, has gone straight to referees.
Norrbom has played in both elite club and the AUDL. As a smaller player, he tries to stay within a “safe sphere” of contact, but acknowledges that big stakes make people more aggressive. “You're kind of going all out, and maybe you take a risk that you wouldn't normally.” And while that one incident didn't lose them the game, he says there are too many similar incidents.
Although player power has its problems, Norrbom is quick to point out that referees aren't necessarily better at spotting fouls. “The simple fact is, a few referees who are trying their best… they just can't see everything, you know, so people can get away with more contact.” Even if players can't call others out, a referee system makes it easier to play dirty without consequences, flipping the idea that neutral officials make the game more fair.
But if refs aren't getting the job done in the AUDL, then how is the club scene approaching the issue? Norrbom says that elite players don't typically play aggressively, but adds that the increase of livestreaming games has put pressure on players to be honest. “If people know they're being filmed, they're less likely to make a bad call that can be seen on film, because people are calling [them] out more on social media.”
“The simple fact is, a few referees who are trying their best... they just can’t see everything, you know, so people can get away with more contact.”
Jaffe and Norrborn agree that the answer may lie in the kind of people attracted to the game. “There may be what social scientists would call self-selection,“ Jaffe explains. “Really competitive people who want to win at all costs don't find [ultimate culture] so attractive… so they go play something else.“ Norrbom agrees: “Ultimate is a small enough community right now where you can't afford to alienate people… if people don't like you, you're not going to make their teams.”
Produced by students at the Northeastern University School of Journalism. © 2023
