Thomas “Charleston” Chu has a long-held and complicated relationship with competitive sports. They were raised as a diehard Boston sports fan, attending at least one game in every victorious Red Sox World Series since 1918. In high school they reached apex bro with dual billing as musical star and varsity baseball starter. Despite playing little more than pickup ultimate pre-college, Tom quickly rose to stardom again in the somewhat less competitive atmosphere of Süperfly, joining A team for its run at regionals all the way back in 2016. Tom’s first year at Yale brought reflection on the merits of capitalism, as it often does, and Tom renounced competitive sports as a tool of the neoliberal regime (including a heartbreaking parting-of-ways with Tom Brady) in fall 2016 to devote all their time to dismantling privilege and combating oppression. Come springtime, Tom missed the camaraderie (no pun intended) and spiritual uplift of playing with Süperfly, and has since climbed the ranks of the team to become captain for their senior year. Tom Chu will “teach you” for a lucky group of middle schoolers next year in Boston, and we on Fly will all miss Tom’s joyous leadership and wish them the best of luck.
It was cold and stormy in Los Angeles, California that fateful night in September 1995. With the wind howling through the trees and lightning forking its way across the sky, Vikram Dhawan was born. In a moment unprecedented in the history of mankind, he came into this world already speaking his first words. “GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!!!” he raged. Commented the doctor, “I think we’ve got some Benjamin Button type shit on our hands.” Was the guy right? Not no, as they say. For you see, he was created strong as steel. At family gatherings his relatives would have fun lining up to take turns smacking his small frame with various metal objects to test his indestructibleness. Infant Vikram was a miracle. But over the course of his life, Vikram’s body has deteriorated to become as fragile as that of a newborn babe. It has reached the point that when he performs well in a game of ultimate, he prefers a simple “good job” to a high five because any sort of physical contact tears his muscles and shatters his bones. (If you do say “good job” please whisper it to avoid a concussion.) He’s so used to playing with broken limbs, in fact, that he now wears a cast in games simply as a fashion choice. Playing frisbee with him has been compared to playing a game of Jenga. But there is so much more to Vikram. He likes eating food. In particular, he enjoys carrots with Feder’s olive tapenade, mixed greens with Feder’s salad dressing, roasted peppers made by Feder, and Feder’s leftover rice pilaf. More than anything, he loves ice cream, a consumable that many label “dessert” but Vikram labels “meal”. (At this dietary point in the bio, it’s worth mentioning that Vikram weighs anywhere from 35 to 55 pounds (depending on how many balloons he’s holding).) Vikram also likes movies. Some of his favorites include “The Big Lebowski”. He is passionate about ordering cleats and sending them back for chaos reasons. His prized possessions are his car, old-timey camera, beard, “2018” tassel, ceiling mice, milk, turkey, bedside chair, Asian Businessman, vocal chords, sink mold, the last pack of Gushers, and shirt with a “V” that he has to wear more and more often as his clothes disappear. And who can mention Vikram without mentioning his what-the-other-Elmhurst-residents-can-only-assume-is-a-lawn-mower, Bella! She is gud boi and wach yu thru windo, vroom vroom. Vikram’s least favorite possession is his memory.
Prediction: lose in Sophomore year.
Sam Feder, or as I say, me, is good time every time. I tell everyone hey! And then the frisbee is in the air and wow, who would have gotten anything better than even that? So that’s when I said no, to it all that was glistening like moonlight on riverwater, that frisbee is all to whomever should behold it so.
Second of all, I have five fewer senses than the average person. Everything is energy, and I lurch this way and that to ebb and flow as I see fit. Too much for ol’ what’s his face to handle? You better believe it.
In conclusion, please donate money to the team. I promise. Good job, you're welcome, I do!
… and I see that I’ve been assigned to write about him, but I was really disappointed when I noticed that he uploaded his own picture. Of course, I was thinking, “Wow, he probably picked some boring picture from Prom or something,” but then I opened it and saw the majestic image above, and I genuinely felt like a terrible person for expecting anything less from him. So, let’s talk about Daniel “Data” Hodeta for a minute. This guy is absolutely nuts. Just to give you an idea of who this kid really is, I was once walking through Old Campus at about 4:00am on the way to class and I see him standing in the middle of an inflatable pool in his overalls and straw hat, stomping on grapes with his bare feet while singing Habanera. Not only is the youngest man ever to climb Mt. Everest, but he’s also a certified SCUBA instructor in 11 languages.
I suppose if you’re reading this, you’re interested in his Frisbee skills. So, let’s analyze some data about Data. Now the reason you may not have heard of him is because his stats are so high that they literally couldn’t even fit them on the back of his trading card, so they had to make bigger ones that don’t fit in the regular packages. But that’s all beside the point. What I’m really trying to say is that the next time a Frisbee comes crashing through your kitchen window and lands in your Fruit Loops, it just means that Data was in power position between 400 and 600 nautical miles away.
Here are some more things I learned about him this year:
Favorite Food: Ketchup
Favorite Band: Alvin and the Chipmunks
Hometown: Addis Ababa, Ethiopia
What he wants to be when he grows up: A wizard
Pet turtle’s name: Constantine
Number of movies starred in: 6 (7 if you count his role as a Storm Trooper in Return of the Jedi)
Long story short, anyone who’s reading this is fully justified in being jealous of Süperfly because there’s no way your friends are as cool as ours. Need proof? Just look at Data.
Darryl was raised in an East-African tribe by the name of Laiu, the only known tribe in the world to derive its entire meaning of life from the game of Ultimate. From the time Darryl was born, he was raised solely in the way of the disc, to strike first, strike hard, with no mercy. Being the son of the chief, Darryl had made many enemies in the tribe, many people who wanted the power and status that Darryl possessed. Whenever someone challenged Darryl to a duel, which in the tribe is customarily a game of guts, Darryl would always accept with honor. Not once did Darryl lose, and on one occasion, when Darryl was but 8 years old, he threw a flick so fast that his opponent could not help but jump out of the way. And boy was it a good thing he did, because the disc, after passing the opponent, cut down the hefty trunk of a Baobab tree. Thus the legend of Darryl was born. When Darryl came of age, his father wanted to pass down the title of Chief to Darryl, but Darryl could not accept. Darryl realized that he was already the strongest ultimate player in the entire tribe, and if he became chief, he would have absolute power, which corrupts absolutely. Knowing this, Darryl left his tribe and went to Yale University, and took a two-year hiatus from even touching a disc, so that he would not be faced with the ethical ramifications of absolute power again. Two years passed, and Darryl was happy, until he heard the news of the death of his father. His father was murdered in cold-blood by a rival in the tribe, who was vying for power, and the only way Darryl could defeat him with honor was through the way of the disc. However, Darryl was rusty, and he could not just go back to his tribe without having touched a disc for two years. As a result, with his heart full of vengeance, Darryl joined the Yale Süperfly Team, so that one day, he will be able to reclaim the throne of the tribe of Laiu, avenge his father’s death, and vanquish all evil from the land.
On September 3, 2017, on leave from the military, I was strolling through a museum in Seoul with my family when my phone buzzed with a New York Times alert: “Yale Superfly misses Regionals for 2nd year in a row.” It was the latest in a series of disasters that had included knee injury, wrist fractures and rained out tournaments, straining relations with its neighbors and threatening the established prophecy.
The monitor screen at the museum was also reporting this breaking news. A conspiracy was detected — “USAU plots to keep Yale out of regionals,” “complete BS.” As I processed the words flashing by, I checked my phone to make sure there was no recall from my team. If I was called back, I would only have an hour to be cleated up.
Other museumgoers took brief glances at the monitor and continued on with their tours. Every so often someone would pause for a minute or two, but most went on their merry ways. It reminded me once again of what had perplexed me the most during my military service in Korea: the American public’s nonchalance about my frisbee team’s skill level.
When I caught up with my father in the exhibit, I asked him about the ambivalence to my team’s results that I observed. He answered, “We have learned to live with it. If we react to every provocation, we won’t be able to live.”
American news outlets focus on the Metro East Division and paint a narrative of incompetence. A region on the edge of war, one false move away from fire and brimstone. Whether war is imminent is difficult to judge, but news of UConn’s graduating class tends to be channeled to readers in America via sensational or reactionary rhetoric that often cries danger for the old guard.
As I return to Yale after completing my military service, I look upon not at a region on the edge of war but at a region that perseveres. The Metro East that I did not know is the one that I will remember, half a win away from that sweet sweet natties glory.
Sang Won “John” “Catface Meowmers” “Catface” Lee is a senior in Grace Hopper College. He lives off-campus with his two cats, Osamot and Uhct. In his free time, he enjoys cooking Korean BBQ and reading the bible to his cats. Follow him on Twitter at @therealmeowmerzz20.
When it comes to flinging a circular object at relatively high speeds across grassy plains to a teammate (or otherwise) with accuracy, precision, and other-wordly grace, none can contend Leo Lehrer-Small. Many a mark has made the mistake of assuming a correlation between Leo’s last name and his disk energy. Now, each and every one of those marks sports a fractured ankle (or two) and a broken spirit. Also well known for his workout selfies and swole vibes, Leo has defied all laws of Physics and Logic to become a legend among rookies. “How”, you may ask. “How is it possible to be a novice and an expert at the same time”? “How is it possible to be the beginning and the end”? Well, we don’t know. The only thing we do know is that the disk gods have graced us with his presence on our team and for that we will forever be grateful.
The Journey of Jake the Rake is not a story any Fly member would tell you. This was the story of how Jake the Rake set out to be a pirate. See, Jake has always wanted to be a pirate. There was something about the the sea and a life of plundering that has always called out to him. So at the age of 18, he set out from his home in the Hidden Hills, with just his sunglasses and All-American studs, and only the scent of the sea to guide him, to find a crew he could be a part of.
He walked for what must’ve been weeks. But this was nothing compared to the thought of being on land for the rest of his life. Throughout the journey though, he changed. He reached closer to the sky as he grew taller than anyone one around him. Eventually he found a ship, the SüperFly, and begged to be part of them.
“But where is your eyepatch? A pirate cannot not have an eyepatch!” said one of their captains, Feder the bearded. How could Jake have forgotten? A pirate is nothing without his eyepatch. Had he made the journey for nought?
But he remembered he had brought his sunglasses. And because Jake had grew wise from his journey, he popped a lens out, and invented the Ray-ban© eyepatch.
“I like your style, what with the cleats and the patch. You’re in!” said Tom the nickname-less. And that was how a legend was made.
Jake did really well as a pirate. Using his new found height, he was able defend the Fly from plundering pirates by out jumping them and embarrassing them till they just gave up. And for his amazing service, he was given the opportunity to sail their new ship, the FöG, and lead his own crew.
Alastair “Stairs” Loh was born to a loving British family just outside of Vancouver, Canada in 1897. Straight from the womb, he was found to be holding a disc, and mind you, this was decades before the patented Frisbee™ came to be. For years, Alastair’s exclusively French-speaking family did not know what the disc meant, only that he loved to throw it directly at their chests. During one childhood incident, beloved baby Alastair threw a disc with so much power that the mere act of stopping its momentum carried his three-hundred-pound cousin Big Bertha off of her feet and straight over the edge of a stairwell. With every step she hit on the long way to the ground floor, Bertha further realized that her cousin would be an ultimate frisbee star, and from that moment forward, Alastair was known by the fear-inducing somewhat-epithet “Stairs.”
After his secondary schooling years in the wonderful country of maple syrup, Stairs was accepted to Yale on merit alone. Legend has it that the admissions officer only had heard the letter “S” and was subsequently struck by so much fear that he just had to let Stairs in. In his Yale years, Stairs began playing ultimate frisbee, as destiny would have it. He plays well below his current 121 years of age, skying the likes of Elliot Lee on the daily. To this day, if you go to a Yale Süperfly game, you may be able to spot Big Bertha among millions of adoring fans, telling the tale of her heroic tumble and Stairs’ meteoric rise.
You ever see an ad (pause) for a gym membership (smaller pause) at one of those fancier gyms, and they tell you it’s something like 50 bucks a month, with 50 due up front? And you have to keep the membership for at least a year? Whenever I see those prices I’m like, yeah, uh, you don’t even need to give me gym equipment for that money. I would have bought a membership just to see some ripped guys squatting 680. You know the guys I’m talking about. You know, the dudes who wear the fancy gloves (pause) and the big belt (smaller pause) even though their pants fit them just fine? Yeah, those guys!
I am at a point in my life where I would wait in a line just to look at those guys. Like you could just put a squat rack in a motel room and line us up down the hall. That would be entertaining, no? You go into this room (pause) and there is just a massively shredded dude deadlifting 850? You know the type: that guy who drops the weight so loud that it makes you jump up in the air? You know, that guy that scares the living shit out of you? Yeah, that guy!
Judging by the amount of noise the room next to me at a motel usually makes, this is probably already happening. Motel neighbors are all so loud. You ever been in a motel like, say, a Motel 6, and hear a noise that you’ve never heard before coming from the room right next to you? Weird enough that you put your ear to the wall? Like “oh, huh, I’ve never heard a noise like that before! Whatever could it be?” Happens to me all the time. The last time it sounded like two people playing really fast tennis. Like how on earth could they be accomplishing that? And they sounded pretty good at it too! I can’t wait for Roger Federer to defend his US Open title on the beautiful carpet grounds of the Econo Lodge.
Stepping out of the cold winter air and through the second set of glass doors, you turn right down the dimly lit hallway, approaching a door with a small window. It’s dark inside. You hear a muffled cacophony of random, yet somehow familiar noises: the hyena laugh of an unnamed senior on Superfly, an ethnically-ambiguous “Pull up dude”, and the “俺の獲物に手を出すな！” of what could be a blue bird wearing combat boots (but that’s just a guess based on your limited working knowledge of Japanese). As you slowly crack open the door and step into the room, the blast of an 808 shakes your entire being.
“Hey Maso, how’s the senior project going?”
He doesn’t hear you. There’s no telling how long the youngest Mukai has been in this room - all you know is that you don’t want to disturb his incredible focus. You back yourself slowly towards the door, but the movement registers.
“Hey dude, what’s up?” Tomaso asks, pulling off his headphones.
He’s wearing his trademark red flannel, cute as ever. In his hazel brown eyes, you swear you can see the knowledge of disciplines beyond your wildest imagination: low-level programming languages, intricate Gamecube tricks and tactics, cooking recipes transcending your bland palate.
“I was just wondering how your senior project was going.”
“Oh it’s good, I just have to write all the code for this digital synthesizer based on a ton of different excerpts from a 1000-page textbook.” He pauses. “Gimme 30 minutes and we can go toss.”
It’s a funny thing, being friends with Tomaso. On the one hand, you get along great: you have similar senses of humor, you both love ultimate, and you both enjoy talking about the random things you had seen or heard recently. And yet, there’s something about him that keeps you wanting more. You know in the back of your mind that he’s already seen all of the videos you’re going to reference, but he plays along anyways. You really enjoy ultimate, but you can’t compare to the romance Tomaso has shared with the sport ever since that prom dance in 2015. And you know that you’ll never be able to keep up with his digital acronyms, try as you might to find them on Urban Dictionary.
You nod to him, and step back outside into the first-floor hallway of AKW, closing the door behind you.
“What’d he say?”
“Why didn’t you make him come now?”
“Because we have to let him work. Because he’s the friend all of Superfly deserves, but not the one with a lot of free-time right now, so we’ll let him work. Because he can take it, because he’s not actually a hacker. He’s a silent coder, a watchful handler, a Fly Captain."
So here’s the thing. I didn’t know Yoyo’s name until we became Facebook friends. I’ve never heard anyone call him by his birth name. That’s all I’ve got regarding his nickname. I also don’t know how he became known as Yoyo. Oh well.
Anyways, Yo “Knee Braces” Yo was born with potential. He once told me, “I was, like, good coming out of high school. You should have seen me play last year.” Yeah, we all wish we could see that. Now, you can expect to see him in a variety of multi-colored ultimate shorts, typically velcroing his knee straps while someone busts deep on him. He shows flashes of his true quality as an ultimate player, but those are usually at Supermona practices when he is trying to impress Elliot and showcase his beautiful form.
Additionally, he has a very identifiable laugh that will make must opposing cutters stop dead, which might be a part of his defensive strategy. It usually involves someone telling him a bad joke followed by his unique high-pitched squeal, and then Feder will follow that up with a laugh of his own, which makes for a killer combo.
Now don’t be fooled. Yoyo has shown incredible skills this year on the sideline.
Here’s a quick list of all you need to know about this mean green killing machine.
Likes: Robots, Frisbee, Video Games, Netflix, Chilling, Sleeping, Flannels, The Interesting Sports (so not baseball), Any kind of Boarding (Snowboarding, Surfing, etc…), Snowball Fights, Swimming, Hot Tubs, Turtles, Chipotle, The Time 10:32, Some Books, Fire.
Dislikes: Bad Robots, Bad Frisbees, Bad Video Games, Hulu, Not Chilling, Not Sleeping, Sweaters, Baseball, Skiing, Mud Fights, Swimming on Land (AKA Running and Overall Fitness/Good Physical Shape for Ultimate), Cold Tubs, Lizard People, Taco Bell, Literally Any Time That Isn’t 10:32, Other Books, Getting Burnt Deep.
In sum, he’s quite the team member when he shows up for practices and tournaments. Lastly, he’s terrible at sharing. Whatever you do, DO NOT ask him for his tie dye. There’s some sort of relationship going on there that no one should get involved in. Look for Yoyo to be there and maybe play this season, depending on those knees of his.
Don’t let his innocent baby-like slumber fool you, because Daniel Ortega is a cold-blooded assassin for a living. Don’t believe me? Just ask Tupac. Oh wait, he’s dead. How about JFK? Also dead! Sense a pattern? The Daniel Ortega seen here often lets his business and pleasure (that pleasure being Ultimate) mix. However, instead of taking peoples lives, he takes something far more valuable: their dignity. If you have ever tried to play defense against this man, you probably have experienced the aforementioned phenomenon. Whether it was getting your ankles so brutally broken by one of his jukes that you no longer have the desire to get back up, or if he skied you so hard that your entire perception of what humanity is and could be was shattered in an instant, everyone who has lined up against Daniel Ortega has been left broken afterwards. Even those with the strongest of wills have their bodies and spirits demolished by this unassuming figure that you see here. Hope that you never encounter this man in real life on the Ultimate field, and if you do, run for your life!
What the fuck is up, gamers. Mac “Michael” “king of the ground sky” “DJ Skinny penis” Schmidt came into this world setting records, namely for both tallest and lightest baby ever born at the hospital. Then he spent a year or 18 being tall, playing hockey, and refining his sense of humor to one day run a successful twitter humor account.
Mac walked into the first Superfly practice his freshman year determined to, as with all generational talents, change the game with what he CAN do rather than let himself be defined by what he CAN’T. Unfortunately for Mac, his can list contained a righty flick and lefty backhand with a righty backhand firmly in the can’t category. Needless to say, Mac was soon defined by his lack of a serviceable righty backhand.
These days you’ll usually find Mac one of the four places. One, in his room, working on a CS pset due anywhere from 1-3 weeks ago. Two, in his room browsing Twitter. Three, in his room, drinking from one of his many gallons of whole milk. That creamy, delicious whole milk. Still cold from the fridge and so damn inviting you can’t help but take a sip directly from the container and the next thing you know you’re chugging the milk, that white, frothy cow juice passing your lips as fast as your throat and stomach allow. That gallon finished, you might look around to see if there is any more milk. You need the calories. Your thirst can’t be quenched. You’d do anything for just one more sip of that protein-packed, calcium-rich nutrient broth. But there is no more, so you sadly take a shower and head to bed, dreams of fat cows dancing in your head. Four, Hanging out with Maso at the ultipartments.
See here’s the thing. We all love Mac. We like Mac so much that in 2018 one of the seniors declared a “friendship break” with Fiesta was needed so that everyone else got to spend more time with Mac. Unfortunately this love of Mac has yet to translate to the realm of dating, where Mac’s status has oscillated between “much needed,” “please,” and “no” during his time at Yale. The highlights team (members: Mac) has been working round the clock posting videos of full field flick hucks to show Mac off to potential dates, but most (read:all) interest in dating a member of Superfly has been directed towards #42.
Let’s give Mac some credit though. Dude has been straight GRINDING in the gym for the past year and pounding the protein powder to go with all that milk. And he’s got a hot kind of mysterious “is he the weird nerd that we don’t like or the cool nerd that helps the FBI agent solve the case by mashing a keyboard furiously while spouting off nonsensical jargon and also clearly has a crush on the femme fatale of the movie but is too nervous or shy to say anything and just wallows in loneliness during all the offscreen time once ‘the firewall has been broached to allow access to the mainframe’”aura. Ladies see him and wonder what dat neck can do.
Hell yeah brother. Cheers from Iraq.
Ben lives in the blue mountains of New Haven. Although he takes Physics, he doesn’t seem to respect any of the rules. For one, he completely disregards Newton’s observation about that mango (or was it an apple) that’s subject to gravity, for Ben tends to sky even the tallest of buildings. According to Harkness tower, one of the many victims of Ben’s hops, the only way to bring Ben down from the sky is to threaten his dear bike. Ben is special in many ways. Not only is he a Snyder but he was snider than most. Yes, any ordinary apple thrown up would eventually come down (“unless it was thrown at the escape velocity” would the snide Snyder say) but not if the apple’s name was Ben. No, a Benapple would stay in the air longer than a Bombardier Dash 8 - Q400 aircraft without breaking a sweat. We revealed all this confidential information as a courtesy to all potential opponents out there. So, once again, to all you who defend him, if you see the blonde assortment of quarks running towards you(“or away from you” the snide Snyder would again amend), you better type in triangle-circle-circle-square-right analog left then turn clockwise-cross and activate the jetpack cheat code because you’re about to memorize the design pattern on the soles of his cleats. Don’t say we didn’t warn you.
Hudson Hornet 2.0 of House Walberg, The First of His Name, The Unyielding, Vanquisher of Mara Thon, Former Lord of the Blues and the Old Timers, Clergy of the League of Winters, Director of Tournaments, Master of Games, and Keeper of Birds was born on July 4, 1776 after a firework collided with a frisbee. Even though Hudson earned 3 PhDs at the age of 12, he decided to still go to college anyway in order to play frisbee and to help Fly. Hudson is well known for his ability to jump 7 feet into the air and for inventing tape.
Legend has it that a venomous hornet named Mara Thon once stung Hudson on his left ankle; after three hours of excruciating pain and suffering, the hornet died. At that moment Hudson harnessed and consumed the hornets energy. Having been to Italy forty times throughout his second existence, Hudson is fluent in British and French.
Hudson has traveled the cosmos. They say he flies with the force of the air and nothing else. His pristine uniform glistens as he enters space, representing his country and his Süperfly bois proudly. During one particular trip, he landed in a remote island and stayed with a kind family. In exchange for food and shelter, he taught the youngest child how to properly throw a flick. That child later founded NASA. Hudson taught the eldest child how to bid. That child grew up to become Lionel Messi.
In a typical game, Hudson scores/assists 18 points. He starts each game by giving the other team 3 free callahan's to bring their hopes and confidence up so that he can then crush their spirits moments later when he continues to score/assist 15 points for Fly in a row.
Nowadays Hudson sits in his rocking chair in the great halls of Davenport waiting for the signal. But oh. OH BOY. When the signal showing that glorious, grey and cold-eyed, damn dirty blond haired, chiseled face is shining in the sky, other teams wail and lament, pulling out their hairs and begging any and every divine power. For they know. Hudson is coming.
Do you often feel lonely? Do you need something or someone keep your spirits up? Do you need a friend? Well I have the solution for you. Introducing Todd “LITTLE TIMMY TIDDLYSTICKS” (pronounced Minnesota) Warshawsky. LTT’s the team’s resident camp counselor. Ever since his days of being a summer camper ended, LTT’s been running to find purpose with his life. He finally found it on Süperfly as a cutter. Todd’s an amazing guy from Rosalyn, NY who’s interested in political science, history, and linguist. But, let the testimonials speak for themselves. (For privacy, we have switched the first letter of the person’s first and last name with each other).
“Truth is.... U r such a great friend.” - Sebecca Ramet
“Truth is i met u at camp last year and we were in the better side of the bunk and ur pretty cool and do u remember that time when that girl secretly loved u at camp, well i think she still does.” - Posh Jarower
“Truth is ur a good person, smart and a great runner!” - Saquel Rhadan
“Truth is he’s kosher in the streets, but not the sheets. His frisbee grip is just amazing.” - Cheese
If interested, you can get Todd for the low low price of $9.95. Call 516-273-9463.
May not always have the best music taste
No money back guarantee
Dinkleberg works out, bro.
As David Attenborough prophesied in Planet Earth II, Episode 4, “It’s fall in the streets of New Haven in the Eastern United States. It’s frisbee season and a stranger approaches. He’s travelled 867.2 miles to be here because the frisbee teams where he’s come from have already been filled. With him come his females. He must fight to keep them. And so he fights … The new arrival has won. And his prize is his chance to drink.” Süperfly awaits for our king from Chicago, Keduse, to fulfill this prophecy fully. He may have fulfilled the latter end, but the former is yet to come. Plagued by the intricacies of physics homework and injury, Kind Keduse has only been there in spirit. But as he gets used to the responsibilities of a King, he’s slowly transitioning to the King we need rather than the King we never see. As he trains to once again become the Illinois track and cross country start he once was, we’re hopeful to see more of our king on and off the field (especially on). Long live King Keduse!
The sun rises to start another beautiful day in Cupertino, California, home of Süperfly’s own Allan Wu. As the sun peeks through the window, it finds Allan meditating as he contemplates the morning news, P=NP, and when a day goes from being partly cloudy to partly sunny. Not much is known about Allan, but let us recount the few facts we do know. Unanimously voted “most likely to do everything better than you” for four years running during his two seasons on Süperfly, he’s a transient being, yet simultaneously so influential that many believe his mere presence has guided Yale to numerous victories in the academic and athletic arenas. In talking with his dear friend and former pupil, Stanley Eisenstat, Eisenstat remarked the following: “I’ve been personally inspired by Allan on several occasions, most recently when I decided to buy mismatched designer shoes to go with my Patagonia jacket. That man can pull off anything.” God himself was noted for his recent comments about Wu, stating “I kind of forgot about him until that infamous 2018 Spring Break trip. I went back and checked the records and turns out I put way too much charisma into that one. Oh well, every generation needs their icons, right?”