Eddie Khalatian and Maggie Chen pass the disc in an Ultimate match.Ed Kung
Eddie Khalatian had just moved to a high-rise condo in downtown Toronto when the pandemic hit. The silver lining for the 33-year-old global finance manager was a shared turf space, big enough to toss a Frisbee while social distancing.
“There’s such a community element to the game that if you see someone throwing a Frisbee, you feel like you understand their vibe. So we just started to play,” he says. Casual encounters turned into an Instagram group chat co-ordinating throwing sessions and Ultimate Frisbee scrimmages, capped when it hit 32 people. As the pandemic subsided, some of the group played on as a team in rec leagues.
Since hitting the northeastern high school and college scene in the late 1960s, Ultimate, as it’s known, has spread across North America and into Asia and Europe. It involves two seven-player teams, who advance a disc by passing it player to player along a rectangular field, much like football or soccer. A team scores by catching a throw in the opponent’s end zone.
The Vancouver Ultimate League estimates there are over 30,000 recreational players in Canada. The attraction for devoted players lies in the art of disc movement, perhaps best captured by Stancil Johnson, a competitive American player and member of the International Frisbee Hall of Fame (yes, that exists). “When a ball dreams,” he once said, “it dreams it’s a Frisbee.”
Maggie Chen on the Ultimate field while partner Eddie Khalatian watches from the sidelines.Ed Kung
The game is self-officiated, which is at the root of Ultimate community culture, and features many co-ed teams. “Inclusivity is the default, not the exception, with Ultimate,” says Khalatian, who plays for Zen Ultimate in the competitive Toronto MXD mixed-gender league.
Up-and-coming Ultimate player Dax Miller of the Toronto Rush.Toronto Rush
His partner, Maggie Chen, 26, a PhD candidate at the University of Toronto, says she finds the game endlessly satisfying. “I get to use my brain and my body to adapt depending on who I’m matched up against. It’s dynamic, and every game feels like a new puzzle.”
Chen, who grew up figure skating competitively in Guelph, Ont., sees appeal in the sport’s potential for longevity and generational cross-over. “If you train smart, stay healthy and stay committed, you can continue growing as an [Ultimate] athlete indefinitely.”
That community is what attracted Dax Miller, 20, one of the sport’s rising stars. He plays on the varsity team at Queen’s University, the Canadian U24 national team, the Toronto Goat club team and Toronto Rush, a semi-pro team.
“Everyone just wants to see each other get better. They’re always interested in helping younger players develop,” he says.
JAM Sports in Toronto features a growing number of Ultimate leagues.Jess McShane
Miller had flirted with Ultimate in his early years, thanks to a dedicated coach at his Toronto middle school. He also had exposure at home. His parents played in the 1990s and started JAM, now a major sports and social club that includes 20 Ultimate leagues. For a time, Miller was a competitive skier, which lasted until the pandemic hit. When he decided he was done with individual sports, he came back to Ultimate.
Now Ultimate is being touted as a potential future Olympic sport, and organizers across Canada have built a high-performance juniors pipeline. But the game has an attraction for anyone yearning for a fun and welcoming sports culture.
“The spirit of the game is about promoting the most equitable and honest portrayal of yourself and your team,” says Miller.