WHO WRITES THIS CRAP? (oh ok, some "Tony" guy...see below.) TELL HIM TO GET THE BOOBS OUTTA HIS EYES. ANOTHER ARTICLE where MOSTLY THE FIRST HALF OF IT ISN'T EVEN WORTH READING. IT DOESN'T EVEN MENTION THE SPORT. BUT I GUESS THAT'S WHAT GRABS READER'S ATTENTION...THE SPECTACLE. BE SURE TO READ AT THE END A REBUTTAL SENT BACK TO THIS REPORTER BY A SPECTATOR, NOT A PLAYER. THAT'S THE BEST PART OF THIS WHOLE COLUMN.

Charity Games Bask in Bawdy Irreverence
In a decades-old tradition, San Diego bares its naughty side in Over the Line revelry.
By Tony Perry, Times Staff Writer
July 21, 2006

SAN DIEGO — This is a city that knows how to have fun.

Some of the local entertainment is highbrow (the Old Globe Theatre, the San Diego Symphony). Most is profoundly family-friendly (Sea World and the San Diego Zoo).

But for two weekends each year, the city is devoted to fun that is neither highbrow nor housebroken for family consumption: the beach bacchanal Over-the-Line, a beer-fueled nudity fest on city-owned Fiesta Island in Mission Bay.

For half a century, the Over-the-Line tournament, sponsored by the Old Mission Beach Athletic Club, has been drawing players and gawkers.

Last Saturday's opening day crowd was estimated at about 20,000, with even bigger draws expected this weekend for the finals.

In theory, the raison d'etre of Over-the-Line is a competition among hundreds of teams playing a four-inning, three-person variant of softball. Played within narrow boundaries, the object is to hit a mushy ball past or over opposing players.

But saying Over-the-Line is about sports is like saying Mardi Gras is really about the devoutly religious preparing for the privations of Lent.

Occasionally, the San Diego news media, like those in most cities, are accused of refusing to tell the real story about this or that. With Over-the-Line, it's true. Little is seen or told as television stations have to worry about the Federal Communications Commission, and newspapers adhere to a voluntary code of censorship about sex and nudity.

The tournament starts with the selection of an Over-the-Line queen, named Miss Emerson. The name comes from a risque knock-knock joke, never fully explained in the media. Locals know the joke, outsiders don't count.

"Over-the-Line is a San Diego phenomenon," said former Councilman Bruce Henderson, who is married to a former Miss Emerson. "Over-the-Line is over the line."

By tradition, Over-the-Line teams attempt to out-gross one another with their names. Only two subjects are off-limits: John Wayne and the 1978 crash of PSA Flight 182 in San Diego. (Lots of Old Mission Beach Athletic Club members are pilots.)

The most common themes for Over-the-Line team names involve sex, in many permutations. Many names include more than one theme.

With hundreds of teams playing on 50 sandy courts, team names are continually boomed over a public-address system, all done deadpan. The dawn-to-dusk barrage of X-rated words sets the tone for the event.

There are multiple divisions for men's teams, each division described by a reference to whether a male can perform sexually or not. There is a division for women's teams. Some of the raunchiest names come from the women's teams.

The preferred garb is bikinis for women, gym shorts for men. But some devotees prefer costumes, irreverent ones, of course.

On Saturday, a retired firefighter calling himself "the Pope of OTL the First" and wearing religious garb, strolled among the crowd bestowing blessings. He was accompanied by two cardinals and two nuns; the nuns, of course, had four-letter words on their habits.

So if Over-the-Line is so outrageous, how has it come to be endorsed by San Diego City Hall? This, after all, is a city now in its 17th year of litigation to save a 43-foot-high cross on city-owned property atop Mt. Soledad.

The first answer lies in San Diego's reverence for tradition. This is the tournament's 53rd year. Although its sexual politics may be retrograde, Over-the-Line enjoys a kind of exemption from current mores.
The second answer is charity. For all their rowdy personas, the members of the Old Mission Beach Athletic Club are devoted not just to partying and sports but also to good works: presents for underprivileged children at Christmas, painting run-down community centers, sports contests for the disabled.

Founded in 1954, the club sponsors surfing championships, a half-marathon, youth sports teams and what it calls the world's largest beach party each year at Mariner's Point. Its rugby team is a national power. Over-the-Line is the group's biggest fundraising event.

Club members include lawyers, police officers, firefighters, architects, business executives, teachers and even a few doctors; many members are former military personnel. The club is known as "om-back," for its acronym OMBAC.

In proclaiming the two weekends as official Over-the-Line World Championship days, Mayor Jerry Sanders noted the Old Mission Beach Athletic Club's support of a horseshoe tournament for UC San Diego Children's Cancer Center. The mayor's proclamation is at the front of a souvenir program. The team names are in the middle, and most, although not all, of the pictures of bare-breasted women from previous tournaments are in the back pages.

For men not engaged in playing the games, a major preoccupation is encouraging women to remove their bikini tops. Some men offer bead necklaces, much like at Mardi Gras, as incentive. Some men just beg. There are a lot of cameras.

At the northwest corner of the expansive playing field are 11 large bulletin boards covered with hundreds, if not thousands, of pictures of women showing off their breasts at the last few Over-the-Line tournaments. On Saturday, some women were quick to make sure their pictures were still being displayed.

Although San Diego claims to have invented Over-the-Line, the sport has spread to other beach climes and even to inland sites. Some participants in those smaller tourneys venture annually to Fiesta Island.

"For Over-the-Line, this is the Super Bowl," said Dan Hernandez, who runs an Over-the-Line tournament at Folsom Lake near Sacramento.

Because of the geography of Fiesta Island, Over-the-Line is secluded, unseen and unheard by all except the participants. No unsuspecting tourists are going to happen upon the decorum-free festivities. Still, police roam the venue.

"Most of the OMBAC guys are a little older, but some younger guys, well, if they've been drinking and somebody says something to the wrong girl, the fights can start," said Officer Deborah Freymueller, the San Diego Police Department's special events coordinator.

The number of arrests is small. Longtime club member Fred Thompson attributes this to a dearth of participants with bad attitudes.

"What's there to have an attitude about here?" he asks. "Guys come here and look around and say, 'Man, look at all the chicks.' "
********
Spectator, Michelle’s rebuttal.

Tony,

You, like so many others, have completely "missed the mark" on what OTL is all about. You focused in on what YOU perceived the event is about; nudity, bikinis and raunchy names and completely missed the true meaning. Some of
what you mention does happen at OTL, but it's not what OTL is about and it's not what brings the true player out to play OTL. There are OTL tournaments
year round which have none of the glitz that one might see at the World Championship tourney and yet these dedicated players are there playing.

I liken your article to saying football games are all about the face painters and beer drinkers...I mean isn't that what goes on at every football game? And isn't it what everyone there is doing?

These players are dedicated to a SPORT just like any other sportsman. They practice, they strategize and they try to be the best. They experience the
highs of long sought after victories and the agonies of defeat. They play in the hot sun, in dirt/sand that gets everywhere and they suffer serious injuries just like in any other sport and yet they continue to love the
sport.

Maybe you should try showing up at more than ONE tournament before passing
judgment and making comparisons to a community that is fighting over the
legality of a cross...again you lumped a few fanatics in with everyone....I for one, religion having NOTHING to do with it, think the Mt. Soledad cross
should NOT be moved, in my opinion it is a state historical landmark. I'm am sad that our city has spent millions arguing this point because a couple
of fanatics are "offended" by our historical landmark, they are the same people who want to be able to burn the flag and forbid kids from reciting
the National Anthem in school.

Try going to a few more OTL tournaments. Although OTL could use some press, we don't need the wrong kind of press.

Michelle D.
OTLPA Member
Santee, CA

*****
RIGHT ON! Michelle, you rock!

- OTLPA

WARMER

THIS ARTICLE IS NOT TOO TOO BAD. SHE GETS IT CLOSER TO THE MARK. WE DIDN'T NEED THE LAST LINE THOUGH. OMBAC PUTS THIS ON , NOT THE CITY OF SAN DIEGO. TELLING THE CITY OR CITIZENS TO "KEEP IT CLASSY" IS JUST NOT NEEDED HERE. THAT'S LIKE TELLING YOUR CORNER GAS STATION HE'S RESPONSIBLE FOR THE HIGH GAS PRICES. SHE JUST COULD HAVE DONE WITHOUT THE LAST LINE.
*****

PLAY BALL – ENJOY THE SIGHTS
SAN DIEGO -- Imagine a mix of Mardi Gras, MTV Spring Break 2006, a Jimmy Buffett beach bash and a Girls Gone Wild video.

The 100-proof, electrically hormonal offspring resulting from said components would most accurately describe San Diego's annual Over-The-Line tournament.

What is OTL? I had never heard of the sport myself until I happened into it this past weekend while visiting some fellow East Coast transplants living in San Diego. When a SoCal native left a voice mail Friday night advising us of the place to be and offering directions to Fiesta Island in Mission Bay for the OTL tournament, we decided to check it out.

We hopped in the car Saturday morning knowing only that OTL was some kind of beach sport tournament surrounded by a party. Or a beach party surrounded by some sort of tournament. With plenty of burritos, jello shots, bikini-clad gals and uber-competitive guys.

But there was no way of preparing us for what we were in for as we followed the signs and hundreds of cars off the I-5 exit ramp to a huge dusty parking lot packed to capacity.
Edging the lot was a line of cooler-carrying folk waiting for shuttle buses bound for the out-of-sight area of play. "Where the heck am I?" I wondered as we passed on the line for the shuttles and hoofed it over to the playing fields. We were joined on the mile-long hike by many others on foot, bike and skateboard, all making a pilgrimage to this mysterious event that hid behind the tall dunes lining our path.
Eventually, we made it to a break in the sand wall. We walked through the pass and caught first sight of the playing field and its surrounding scene. Immediately, I understood the magnitude of this event. It was a massive sandy space packed with people and teeming with debauchery.

The OTL tournament is one of those signature events a city boasts uniquely as its own like a Tennessee-Florida football tailgate or the infield of the Kentucky Derby or the street festivities beside Boston's Head Of The Charles Regatta.
Over-The-Line was invented in the sands of San Diego years ago. It is named after its objective (to hit a heavy, foamy orange ball "over the line" in the sand 55 feet away from home plate). It is played with three players on each team on a court shaped like a pencil -- a triangle with home plate set atop a long narrow rectangle of fair territory. Teammates "pitch" to the batter from their knees beside them like a soft-toss drill. Batters must hit it over the line and within the two sides of the rectangle foul lines. If they do this without the ball being caught by one of their opponents, it's a base hit. Hit it fair and over all three fielders and it's a home run. There are no bases to run to after the ball is struck, as ghost runners bear the leg work so players can stay cool and not worry about spilling their cocktails, which are never far from hand ... especially in the hours between each game spent boozing at the tents surrounding the entire field of play. Predictably, when you couple hot temps with alcohol-charged bods, men with beads and a hardly modest Southern Californian crowd, you're bound to have certain segments of the populace getting naked.

While waiting in line at an ATM sitting in the middle of the sand, I witness the following conversation among three women in front of me:
"Hey, where did you get that? Is that a blue margarita?"
"Yeah! That tent right over there. All you have to do is show your [breasts] and they'll make you one for free! If they like them, they'll give you a T-shirt, too. We went back twice!"
Now, I'm not sure what to make of this, and maybe I would understand if I had ever strolled down Bourbon Street and witnessed the magic of the Big Easy, but all I can conclude at this moment is that men are basically the luckiest hacks on the planet. I mean, what authorizes fat, hairy white guys with megaphones to barter a strand of 20-cent beads or a blue margarita for a set of 20-year-old breasts?

The world might never know.
Nevertheless, the depravity is by no means a small, fleeting flash in the pan. This year marks the 53rd annual San Diego OTL tournament, which is organized by the Old Mission Beach Athletic Club. The OMBAC estimates that a whopping 52,000 people will attend this year's extravaganza, which features 1,200 three-player teams spanning 50 courts and runs for two weekends, concluding with the championships this coming Sunday. Admission is free, but team registration fees and money grossed at food and beverage booths serve as the chief fundraiser for OMBAC's charitable efforts for youth sports and amateur recreation endowments.
Although the event is a beach benefit for the community's children, this frat party is no place for young ears. Barking above the bustle of barely there bikinis and booze is the constant announcement of the ever-evolving bracket and court information. The catch is that the team names aren't your average Red Sox or Yankees. At the OTL tournament, squads pride themselves on coming up with some of the most mischievous, and more often raucous, identities for their crew. The announcers rattle them all off quite boldly, hardly ever stumbling over even the naughtiest of names and managing to maintain Vin Scully-esque modulation through animal unmentionables, explicit conquests of their closest relatives and even references to the very microphone they yap into.

Overall, the underlying good cause of the OTL tournament provides San Diegans with a free pass to party and cross over every single line of social etiquette in the books.
I can't quite claim this description of what I saw Saturday is accurate, but it is as much as I am able to disclose on this Web site. My parting counsel to you folks who are thinking about attending the second half of the tournament this weekend is that if you're into this kind of stuff (by which I mean holding your camcorder waist-high while sipping from a hands-free beer-can hard hat), you won't be disappointed by the festivities in Mission Bay.
As always ... stay classy, San Diego.

Mary Buckheit is a regular contributor to ESPN.com and can be reached at MaryBuckheit@hotmail.com.

HOT

SURF WINS OTL FOR "COACH"

By Glae Thien
SPECIAL TO THE UNION-TRIBUNE
July 24, 2006

In a tribute to an Over-The-Line ally whom he called his best friend, Kelly O'Connell wore a wrist ban marked “Coach” throughout the 53rd annual OMBAC World Championship Tournament.

O'Connell and teammates Duane Swainston and Lionel Silva on the Clairemont Surf squad dedicated the tourney to the memory of Pat Merrifield. Ultimately, they added to their salute by winning the first tourney title for each in the Men's Open Division.

Over-The-Line winners
--------------------------------------

Clairemont Surf took the deciding game 42-28 over the Mud Hens yesterday at Fiesta Island in the second of two meetings between the teams to close the double-elimination tourney.

“Pat was like a brother to me,” O'Connell said. “He was an inspiration in every aspect of life.”

Merrifield, 37, who died in April, was posthumously honored with the sportsmanship award for the Men's Open Division. Two years ago, he played on the division champion. Merrifield's cause of death is unconfirmed.

“Pat had an influence on everyone who has played the game for a while,” Swainston said. “He liked to try to improve people. He was a friend to anyone who came on the beach.”

In the Women's Open Division, Nina Detrow and Lisa McGowan joined new teammate Dara Garza on Brennan's to reclaim the title with an 8-3 win over the same Flash team that ended their two two-year title reign a year ago.

McGowan offered her own tribute to Merrifield by putting “No. 22” on one sleeve – the number of the field where the men's open finals are played.

The tournament also marked a milestone when Tom Whelan claimed his 13th tourney title in the Cannever Division (age 50 or older), breaking a tie with Chuck Cromar on the all-time list. Cromar placed third in the men's open play with Kevin Murray and Sean Matson on Ryno Sports.

The Mud Hens team of Rob Christian, Tom Dobyns and Steve Tarantino emerged from the losers' bracket to top Clairemont Surf 17-12 and force another game.

Clairemont Surf, which trailed throughout that first encounter, jumped to an 11-0 lead in top of the first inning of the second game. In the middle of that outburst, Swainston hit a towering three-run homer befitting a player nicknamed “Tree.”

“When you hit a ball like that, everyone takes notice, and everyone is jazzed,” said Swainston, a 6-foot-4, 240-pounder. “That first game just warmed us up. We had been sitting for hours, so we were a little lethargic going into it. We felt our second wind right after it was over.”

Swainston, whose previous best finish was fourth place six years ago, joined this year with Silva and O'Connell, both of whom finished second on the same team in 1998.

Detrow and McGowan each won their fifth tourney title after adding Garza, of Bakersfield, who played on the team that topped their squad for the 2001 title.

“If anyone else had asked me, I would have said, 'No thank you,' ” said Garza, who had been retired from the game since 2002. “I knew if could hold my own, those would bring me up. My thoughts came true.”

The Flash's Tess Franklin, Camille Medina and Stefanie Olow reached the finals with an 11-5 win over the Ryno team that included the mother-daughter combination of Mary Ann and Tairyn Casillas. The younger Casillas plays softball for San Diego State.

In the Cadaver Division (age 60 or older), Mike Patton and John Chapman of the Sandballers prevailed on the 10th anniversary of their last title in the Cannever Division. Also on their team was Patton's brother, Pat, who claimed his first tourney championship.

If you go to this site.....
http://www.signonsandiego.com/sports/20060724-9999-1s24otl.html
.....there's some great videos to explain the game.