One of ultimate's most storied players reflects on the key decisions and habits that fueled Death or Glory’s run of six national championships in a row
April 16, 2025 by Guest Author in Opinion
This post was written by guest author Steve Mooney, an integral part of Death or Glory throughout their championship run and a current board member for Ultimate Impact
Photos were graciously provided by Death or Glory captain and Class of 2014 Ultimate Hall of Fame member Jim Parinella and Ultimate Hall of Fame Class of 2021 photographer Rick Collins, an editorial documentary photographer based in Victoria-Vancouver
At the risk of all of you shouting, “move on pal, it’s been twenty five years. Nobody remembers, or cares.”
Oh well, here goes.
In 2000, Death or Glory (DoG) lost the national championship after a six year run of winning. In an recent email exchange with my teammate Jim Parinella, I asked him what we could have done differently to win that final game, as if time might somehow present me with an answer. After some back and forth on the premise, I found myself reflecting on the bigger picture of what might have contributed to our success, and made a Top 10 list.
In 1994, at the beginning of the run, I wrote a piece for rec.sport.disc called “Conceptual Ultimate”—one of a few pieces I ever wrote on strategy. (Jim says it’s still out there somewhere.) In it, I tried to explain what comprised DoG’s philosophy of play. Short answer? Make other team’s have to think about what we were doing, so they fail to focus on what they should be doing. Simple concept.
This top 10 list assumes that in most cases, the top teams all have comparable talent, and so what else differentiates them? Last June, Emma Hayes joined the US women’s soccer team as their new coach, a team with raw talent, but failing results. Within her first month, she made a few important decision, which immediately changed the trajectory of the team. First, she stuck with her starting line-up through out each game, and didn’t fall back into nervous willy nilly subbing. Next, she encouraged her team to play possession soccer, which meant holding on to the ball versus the kick and run the US had been playing for years. Lastly, she faced the truth head-on, and cut Alex Morgan. These changes, and her unfailing trust in the players she put on the field, resulted in a fabulous run for the gold medal in Paris.
Here’s my list of what I think helped DoG be great. I feel lucky to have been a part of our success, and hope others will take something away from these reflections.
At first blush, and in no particular order, the top ten reasons for Death or Glory’s run of six national championships in a row:
The Philly 8
In 1993, eight of us got in a car and drove down to Philadelphia for a tournament. That’s right, eight players, and one of us got hurt in warm-ups and had to be swapped for a pick-up player who happened to be there and was looking for a team. What we couldn’t know at the time was that this constraint was a blessing in disguise.
Faced with a possible six games, we had to conserve energy, and what better way than to limit who runs when. We turned to Cork and said, “this game, you’re going to catch every goal.” And he did. In the next game, we turned to someone else, and so on. All the way through the tournament, game after game. And on D, we played junk for three throws, and if the other team got past us, I said “let ‘em score.” Jordan Haskell almost had an aneurism: “What, you want me to stop trying?” This is Jordan we’re talking about, but it worked.
Take away: Less is more when get everyone on the same page. The plays you call are less important than being one team.
Look to Invent
After years and years of practice scrimmages, it finally occurred to me that all we were doing was rewarding bad play. We would turn it over five times and finally score, and people would cheer… because you finally scored. But what about those five turnovers? You gotta be kidding me!?! So I thought, what if you only had one chance to score. ONE! Would we be more careful? And what if on a turn, the defense only got one chance to score? Do you think they might value the disc a little more? Yes and yes! So we invented the 10-pull drill, and made it O vs. D. That we kind of hated each other helped.
Take-away: Don’t reward bad habits.
Truth over Harmony
This is a term I learned later at The Hyde School but applies to DoG. The premise is this: ‘Truth will set your free, but first it will make you miserable.” Jeff Brown was a fearless leader, unafraid to pull people while speaking truth to anyone – “Steve, you’re killing us out there with those turnovers.”
Take away: Don’t be afraid to speak truth to power. Sound familiar?
Who Said I Have to Like You?
In time, we became militant about separating the O and the D, and turned the whole thing into a huge rivalry. The best defense the offense ever faced, always, was our own.
Take away: Don’t be afraid to stoke rivalries on the team. You are the best team you’re going to play.
DoG’s Merger with Earth Atomizer
Duh! This is the only reference to talent in my top 10. Boston teams had plenty of talent leading up to 1994, but when we merged with Earth, we didn’t get better as much as we got smarter. Was it all those MIT degrees? Was it frustration after hitting our heads against the wall? Or fate? Whatever it was, our playing IQ improved drastically which helped fuel our success.
Take away: Be open to radical transformation.
Don’t Go!
At some point in our run, we started skipping tournaments in favor of quality practice. You’ve heard the term “playing down to your opponent”? Said another way, it’s hard to get up for every game of every tournament, especially when you’re just going to repeat bad habits. In the fall of 1982, we went to 13 tournaments between Labor Day and Nationals. In the fall of 1999, we went to far fewer.
Take away: You don’t need to play in tournaments to improve. Quite the opposite, but you need a plan for those practices or they are a waste of time.
Interval Training
While I was introduced to interval training in 1982, it wasn’t until a decade later that we traded practice time for track workouts. We could see the benefit to practicing less, which sounded counter intuitive at the time, but we got better by playing less. The harder thing to teach old DoGs was not to go a hundred percent and run out of gas, but to improve our VO2 max while not throwing-up on the side of the track.
Take away: When training, less is often more.
Books, Remember Them?
When Michael Jordan was at the peak of his career, he played for Phil Jackson, a coach who assigned books for his players to read, different books to different players. I love this, and did a version of it when reading Bill Bradley’s “Values of the Game.” One year early in our run, I read a chapter a week, and shared the gist of each chapter with the team, chapters like Discipline, Resilience, and Imagination. Week after week, I shared Bradley’s insights, which turned out to be well formed lessons in teamwork and character. Have your read it?
Take-away: Inspire your team with the works of others.
The Advent of the Internet
It’s kind of ridiculous to attribute winning to technology, but prior to 1994 we depended mostly on what was said in the huddle. Then along came the internet. DoG benefited from email and rec.sport.disc because it meant we wrote down what we were trying to say, and finally began to listen to each other in a more strategic manner. Not everyone can talk at the same time when you have a few minutes in a huddle, but everyone can send their thoughts and comments in an email. Our playbook revolutionized our play on the field, got everyone on the same page, and meant our huddles and on-field audibles were more efficient and effective.
Take-away: Write it down!
The Name Itself, Death or Glory
We finally lived up to it when, after twelve years of coming in second or third, or fifth, we said “This year, it’s either win it all, or quit.” Maybe we should have said that sooner, but hey.
Take Away: Celebrate your confidence, good things will follow.
One Last Point
I feel blessed to have found the sport and been able to play it for as long as I did. Still, it would take most of my career to come to realize what the goal for the team should have been all along, which was not to win, but to revel in the challenge of becoming the best at something. When you do that effectively, winning becomes the result, not the goal.
A story I’ve told many times is this—as we left the field at halftime of one finals, a random fan said “it’s not desire, everyone wants to win, but do you have the will to win?” It took me years to process what he meant. Will is about work, discipline, and responsibility. Desire is not. In between years of 1994 and 1999, we worked harder than ever before, but also smarter, and it paid off.
Thanks for reading.
