Dev Cup 2020 and the Story of a Weekend with OUQC

It's hard for me to believe it's been ten days now since I left the United Kingdom. So much has changed for so many people in the past month, but only a week before that, it's crazy to think that I was heading to Manchester in a minibus with my Oxford Universities Quidditch Club (OUQC) teammates for Development Cup 2020 (Dev Cup). As we all do our part to "flatten the curve" of the COVID-19 pandemic by staying home, I want to bring you back to that time and place. I want to tell the story of that weekend and offer a few takeaways for quidditch on both sides of the Atlantic.

Photos by Fraser Somers and Xena Felton.

OUQC had fallen short of qualification for British Quidditch Cup (BQC) at regionals. I wrote a first-hand account of that for my school paper in November, but despite dropping all three of our pool play games and slotting into the loser's bracket, we improved as a team throughout the tournament and ended the weekend with two feel-good wins. We immediately set our sights on Dev Cup, believing that if we worked hard, we could continue to improve, use the tournament as a learning experience and even challenge for a trophy in the process.

A tournament for teams that failed to qualify for BQC at regionals but still wished to play their way into the national championship, Dev Cup presented a lifeline for us. We refused to let go of our grand ambitions for BQC and instead extended our training sessions when we returned from winter break. We had something to work towards and an opportunity in the near future to test ourselves against our level of competition. As the days lengthened and the weather warmed, we had some of our best trainings of the year, including joint scrimmages on Sundays with the local Oxford Mammoths community team.

During those practices, I could not help but think that under the old bid allocation rules of US Quidditch (USQ), our season would have been over. Even under the new rules, with at-large bids available, our future would have been uncertain at best. While the opportunity to advance to nationals by meeting expanded season play requirements is absolutely a step in the right direction, it is by no means enough. More than anything, teams need to specifically play other teams at their level of competition.

Of course, a developmental tournament for lower-level teams contested only weeks before the season-ending national championship is much easier logistically in a country half the size of California. We had a short three-hour drive to Manchester to play teams from across England, Wales and Scotland that many American teams would kill for. But USQ should still take a more active role in organizing regional or super-regional events for teams that are seeking an at-large bid and trying to meet expanded play requirements. By comparison, the resources in time, energy and money that Quidditch UK (QUK) devoted to Dev Cup were exemplary.

Photos by Fraser Somers and Xena Felton.

First, by their direct planning and organizing of the tournament, QUK ensured an event that all teams could count on. I believe our executive committee booked our accommodations months ahead of time for a cheap rate. They could trust that the tournament would not get cancelled or moved to a different weekend once the dates were announced.

Second, players, even inexperienced players, could walk away from the weekend feeling valued by their national governing body. The facility was the same used by the top teams in the country only weeks earlier for the high-level European Qualifying Tournament. The pitches were 3G artificial turf, there was an indoor common area and there were four private changing rooms for the teams.

Beyond the space, the community turned out to make the weekend possible. If they didn't already have one, each team was assigned a non-playing coach from a more experienced team. In between matches, the Team UK head coach offered his services for additional strategy and skills workshops. Games were livestreamed on Facebook with commentary. Photo albums from hired photographers were posted the next day. There were full-time non-playing referees and pitch managers. Other members of more experienced teams, including several members of the Mammoths, made the journey simply as spectators to support their various affiliated squads.

The all-hands-on-deck approach reminded me of what I have seen from afar about the Massachusetts Quidditch Conference (MQC) this year. Since the split of college and community teams in the US, long-time players have rallied around university teams in the greater Massachusetts area. Many have coached teams for several semesters now, but their efforts culminated this season in a conference that organized 12 high-quality round robin events and produced the most professional media content that I have ever seen in quidditch.

Photos by Fraser Somers and Xena Felton.

If you haven't already, check out the MQC Facebook page to see for yourself. Matches were livestreamed and recorded with commentary. Statistics were diligently taken, compiled and published. All-star and all-rookie teams were named after the fall semester. Games and players were hyped on social media with slick graphics.

While we are all staying home instead of playing quidditch for now, the people behind the MQC are offering their time to hold informational meetings about how to run a quidditch conference over the next few weeks. As USQ reflects on a series of drop-outs from what would have been its national championship and QUK works to reevaluate their season structure and move towards a league-based system with a split between university and community teams, I would encourage that national and local leaders everywhere sign up to hear about the experiences of the MQC. I am signing up for one myself because even if I cannot start a team at my college, I want to get involved next year.

So USQ should explore its options for hosting a Dev Cup or more likely sponsoring a series of super-regional Dev Cups around the country. And everyone, but particularly QUK because it has intentions to move towards a league-based system, should learn from the MQC. As always, the goal is to provide more opportunities everywhere for balanced and regular competition at different levels.

Alright, back to the story of a truly unforgettable weekend that I believe I promised.

I was the last person to successfully locate the minibus in the parking lots around the Radcliffe Science Center on a sunny Friday afternoon in Oxford. I was predictably late already and after struggling several times to close the sliding door, I took quite a ribbing from my teammates. But we were off! Music played, snacks circulated and three hours later, we arrived at a roadside Travelodge on the outskirts of Manchester, where I impersonated one of my teammates who had not yet arrived at the front desk.

Photos by Fraser Somers and Xena Felton.

After we had a laugh about that, we shuffled down the hallway from room to room and eventually gathered in one to hear the story of our coach, who stopped at three Travelodges before finding the right one and misplaced his passport in the process at BQC the previous season. We headed to bed early, knowing that we planned to leave the next morning at quarter after six. I boldly set my alarm for six on the dot and somehow managed to put on layers, make a sandwich, pack my things (without forgetting my mouthguard or my headband!) and get out the door on time.

We arrived to a parking lot just beginning to buzz with activity and helped unload a van of equipment from the tournament committee. As I carried hoops onto the empty pitch and looked towards the Manchester skyline in the distance, I stopped for a second to smile. There is really no better feeling than the morning of a quidditch tournament, when a quiet field is slowly transforming into a lively event before your eyes.

I didn't have much time to stand around though, as our first match against Sheffield was scheduled for 8 am. We went through an extended warm-up as a team and separated into lines to run a half-court drill. Our non-playing coach, a veteran of the sport who now competes with and coaches for the Mammoths, later confessed to worrying about her task at that moment, when we mostly dawdled through the drill and sent lazy passes behind each other's arms.

We then practiced quickly sorting ourselves into our pre- and post-snitch on pitch rotations and selected a starting lineup. I would start at keeper (as my rotation partner and our most experienced player preferred coming on later) alongside another American exchange student who started playing only weeks before and a chaser who hadn't trained in over a year because of injury. As we took our positions on the keeper zone line for brooms up, I told my fellow Yank, a speedy former runner, to slap the quaffle back to me if he got there first.

Photos by Fraser Somers and Xena Felton.

When the "b" of "brooms up" sounded, he heeded my advice all too well and slapped the quaffle back with so much force that the ball ricocheted off my shin, into an opposing chaser and back into my arms. Our sideline erupted in laughter and at that point, I relaxed and surveyed the field. While we didn't score on our first possession, we settled into our man-marking chaser defense and let the beaters go to work. As they managed to knock out opposing beaters and chasers alike and put on a highly aggressive press, I roamed as a keeper in a free safety role. I knew that my beaters would eventually force a turnover and I just needed to stay ready.

In the end, we won convincingly, with our beaters dominating control and many of our chasers getting on the scoresheet. The rest of our day mostly proceeded in the same way, but we first badly underestimated our next opponent, Swansea, who brought only nine players. I had played with four of them at a fantasy tournament and so I knew they were individually talented (as well as lovely people!), but even I didn't anticipate how well they would compete together as a team. They challenged us mentally and physically in that second time slot and forced us to raise our game.

After we won two more games in the afternoon to clinch a bye in the bracket, we helped pack up and returned to our motel for showers before walking twenty minutes as a big boisterous group to the nearby Trafford Centre, a sprawling indoor complex that is part shopping mall and part Disney World, for dinner. On our way there, one of our players who is also a varsity gymnast did backflips and sprinted down the up escalator in a highly impressive feat. Another ran ahead Forest Gump-style and then hid in a bush to give the rest of the team a well-deserved scare. When we arrived, we rearranged about a dozen tables into a long line right down the middle of the food court.

Longing for something like a fat and filling Chipotle burrito, I couldn't resist ordering Mexican food from a British chain. The taste surprisingly met my (admittedly low) expectations, but the portion size was decidedly un-American and I think I complained about that to anybody who would listen for the rest of the night. On our way back, we couldn't resist stopping at a Wetherspoon's (where else?) and celebrating a birthday with a few drinks. We had earned a first-round bye after all!

Photos by Fraser Somers and Xena Felton.

It was a fun night — I will remember the big group walks more than anything — but when we woke up, we knew that we had business to take care of. We were on a collision course with the London Unbreakables, a community team that we had played three times already in the fall. We had beaten them twice, but they had reloaded their roster with two transfers: a keeper who had graduated from OUQC the previous spring and stayed in close touch with the team and a beater who wore an American flag arm sleeve and was quickly dubbed Captain America by my teammates. With the transfers, they had entered the tournament as co-favorites and secured the other bye.

We had scouted the Unbreakables on Saturday so we could take our free time on Sunday morning to prepare, both with the Team UK head coach in a hour-long workshop and with our captains and coaches in shorter sessions. Specifically, we knew that they were playing a Baylor defense that maximized the talents of their beaters, especially the aggressive style of Captain America, and that they were setting frequent picks that freed their keepers and chasers for drives and confused opposing defenses. We set to work teaching our teammates how to ready themselves for both and made a couple adjustments to our own defense. Most notably, we decided to add a secondary point defender, a role that was eventually fulfilled by our keepers at the edge of the keeper zone.

Following a rematch against Swansea in the semifinals, we tried to loosen up with music and snacks before the final, which we knew would present a whole different type of challenge. Meanwhile, we tried to reflect on some of the success stories of the weekend. My fellow American study abroad student had battled anxiety on Saturday morning and needed to carry around a bright yellow bucket for a period, but had gained confidence and grown into an unstoppable force on brooms up, often scoring the first couple goals of the game.

Photos by Fraser Somers and Xena Felton.

Our newly-trained seeker had caught his first snitch in our semifinal after working tirelessly and tearing up his knees on the 3G on Saturday. Even after his triumph, he continued to practice on the side with an experienced snitch who volunteered their time to help out between games. Our beaters had held bludger control for almost the entire tournament, usually starting the offense themselves with a timely beat. Many of our chasers had scored their first goals on solo runs after collecting a loose ball. All players were communicating with each other on defense as second nature.

In short, I was already satisfied with our performance. I wanted to win, but I was prepared to lose, especially after we learned that we would be attacking into a blinding sunset that hovered directly over the opposing hoops. We would need to pass around the back of the hoops to break down the Baylor defense, but any passing would prove difficult under the conditions. My fears were realized during my first shift, when I failed to connect with our social chair behind the hoops on three consecutive half-court offenses. Our defense remained strong, but I subbed out and desperately hoped that my rotation partner could bring a different style on offense.

He did. Waiting patiently to allow our beaters to create a no-bludgers situation before driving through traffic, he got on the scoresheet and calmed our nerves with his experienced and relentless ball-carrying. We fought to stay in range for the rest of the seeker floor and entered the snitch game hoping that our beaters, including a group of recently-converted chasers trained specifically for bubbling, could hold off Captain America, who also took shifts as a seeker.

Photos by Fraser Somers and Xena Felton.

While I was mostly distracted from the beater battles, we tried something new for snitch on pitch in the chaser game. Our two most experienced ball-carriers, one of whom had been heroically beating all weekend to make the rotations work during the seeker floor, took the pitch together. They had just scored to stay out of overtime range and pull within 20 points when play was stopped for a potential snitch catch. I turned to see Captain America with the snitchsock in hand.

The refs huddled. There were no opposing beaters in sight. They exchanged a few words and slowly turned their bodies outwards to survey the pitch. My heart sank. They were checking gender. I braced myself to hear the final whistle and accept a second-place finish when a teammate whispered that something was wrong. Suddenly I couldn't see straight and I couldn't count to seven. My heart started to race. The head ref approached the Unbreakables captain for a brief conversation, then stepped away to announce that the catch was no good and brandish a yellow card.

Once again we had a lifeline. I didn't even hear the timeout called, but all of the sudden I was running on the pitch behind my teammates for a huddle. Our captains and coaches told us that momentum had shifted dramatically in our favor. I nodded along and hoped that we could take advantage of our second chance, but remained skeptical. I saw how easy we could lose. We were still teetering on the edge of snitch range and had struggled to score for the better part of 20 minutes.

Photos by Fraser Somers and Xena Felton.

Our two most experienced ball-carriers started the comeback. They scored on the restart thanks to the man advantage and added another goal to tie the game only a minute later. At the same time, our most experienced beater and a converted chaser playing her first minutes at beater of the tournament regained bludger control and sealed off a bubble around the snitch. I then made the risky decision flip my headband from green to white and reenter the game, leaving us with no keeper subs. I knew we would have to strike quickly and push to get out of range before we tired.

My first offense was a sign of good things to come. I raced behind the hoops waving frantically only to find that I was completely unmarked. I retrieved a missed shot and lofted a pass back over the hoops when a couple opposing defenders quickly arrived to meet me. Our keeper gathered my pass and fired a mid-range shot through the small hoop to take the lead. We never looked back from there.

I can't remember how we forced each turnover, but soon enough, I was sprinting down the wing again and again (and again), usually unmarked, and lifting my left arm as I curved behind the hoops each time. I would then receive a long, perfectly-weighted pass from our keeper from the midfield and face a wall of arms from the Baylor defense. I had been telling my teammates the night before that I really preferred off-ball chasing to keeping. They hadn't believed me, but I think I convinced them in the final. Three possessions, three goals.

On defense, our captain, who hurt her hand and decided to stay in the chaser game during snitch on pitch because she could no longer grip a bludger, joined me as a point defender well past the midline in the opposing half. We formed a tag team that harassed the opposing ball-carrier and shuffled from side to side. When our high press was inevitably broken, a beater always made a timely intervention or a chaser stepped in to intercept a key pass.

Photos by Fraser Somers and Xena Felton.

I subbed out after we finally pulled ahead by 40 points. A sense of relief swept over me. We could no longer lose in an instant. We had scored seven unanswered goals, six of them since the disallowed snitch catch. Gasping for air and searching for water, I mentally started to prepare for a 45-minute game, knowing that we could prevail on quaffle points if the snitch proved too difficult to catch.

A minute later, play stopped again. We had surrendered a goal and fallen back into overtime range, but this time our seeker, who had worked so hard throughout the weekend, had the snitchsock in hand. I crouched at the end of the bench, barely able to withstand the tension. When the refs turned their bodies outward from their huddle to check for gender, a smile crept across my face. I exploded upwards and rushed across the pitch when the catch was ruled good, launching myself into a group hug that quickly toppled over into a pile. In a way that could only happen in quidditch, we had truly snatched victory from the jaws of defeat.

A medal ceremony and photographs followed. Through everything, the Unbreakables were incredibly courteous and congratulatory. In the end, we couldn't have asked for a better team to compete against. I packed my things and helped with tearing down and cleaning up, but mostly I just wandered around the complex, feeling on top of the world but unsure of exactly what to do with myself. We had checked out of our motel early in the morning, so we headed into central Manchester in full uniform and blue face paint in search of a Pizza Hut — a time-honored club tradition for post-tournament meals that I first mocked and then quickly grew to cherish — that could accommodate our group.

Photos by Fraser Somers and Xena Felton.

At the restaurant, I floated between tables. I found the other American exchange student and reflected on how we met only a month before and how we learned to work together on brooms up. I found our seeker and laughed when he admitted that he could not remember exactly how he caught. The Facebook livestream cuts out early, so we are now anxiously awaiting a YouTube recording.

I listened to our most experienced beater name not just the current US president but all of the first sixteen US presidents to prove that he was not concussed. I reconnected with my keeping and point defending partners throughout the weekend to recount our silky-smooth passing, quick-shift subbing and tireless pressing. And I impatiently pestered our social chair to bring out the birthday cake we had forgotten about the night before and start into a rousing rendition of happy birthday for the converted chaser who played her first minutes at beater in the final.

As the dinner drew to a close, I started to compose individual notes for our post-tournament compliments thread in my head, but I also tried to take a snapshot of the moment. The first COVID-19 case had been announced at Oxford the day before and I feared it was only a matter of time before my program pulled the plug. Over six months, OUQC had been the team I always imagined. If Dev Cup was my last tournament with OUQC, I really could not complain.