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Rubin: Detroit Mechanix, the losingest pro team in America, try to crank out a win

Detroit Mechanix player Colin Beauregard attempts to intercept a pass during the ultimate Frisbee team's game against the Chicago Union on May 4 in Grand Rapids.
Detroit Mechanix player Colin Beauregard attempts to intercept a pass during the ultimate Frisbee team's game against the Chicago Union on May 4 in Grand Rapids.

Before Brent Steepe can explain the value of the longest current losing streak in American professional sports, he usually has to explain ultimate Frisbee.

The owner and coach of the Detroit Mechanix does it with self-effacing humor, which is somewhere between useful and mandatory after 76 straight defeats.

Tell someone you’re involved with ultimate Frisbee, he says, “and they say, ‘Oh, is that the one with the dog?’”

No, that’s a halftime show.

“Is it the one on the golf course where you throw it in the basket?”

No, that’s disc golf.

“Wait, I saw a video. You spin around and throw it between your legs.”

No, that’s freestyle.

The highest level of ultimate Frisbee, typically shortened to "ultimate," involves 7-person teams moving quickly and acrobatically up and down a 70-yard-long playing field, attempting to complete a flying-saucer pass into a 20-yard-deep end zone to score a point.

It's easy to understand, it's designed to be non-contact, and it's been seven years and 24 days since the Mechanix won a game.

The time, Steepe says, has not been wasted.

“People are too quick these days to hit the bail button and go to greener pastures,” he’ll tell you. “That’s an unfortunate perspective. Sports are a lot like life — if you want to master the craft, you need resiliency.”

Low pay but high spirits

Professional, in terms of the Ultimate Frisbee Association, can be a relative term. Detroit Mechanix players usually get paid by the game and, as Steepe concedes, it's "definitely not a living wage, or anywhere near that."

Detroit is relative, too. The Mechanix's home field is Grand Rapids Christian High School, where the team draws larger crowds than it used to in places like Madison Heights and Oxford — a high of 770 once, and frequently 500 or so at $15 per ticket.

But they are pros, and for love of the sport and the competition and maybe a pizza with the guys afterward, they travel from as far as Minnesota, North Carolina and Texas to fling Frisbees and try to turn things around.

The team houses them on game weekends in campground bunkhouses, Steepe says, "and that makes it mean so much more for these athletes' lives," win or lose and lose and lose.

The Mechanix keep grinding, and Rusty the mascot keeps cheering. He's a 7-foot-tall wrench, and he follows the lead of the coach: Whatever the outcome, he doesn't get torqued off.

Steepe, 50, is an accomplished trainer and fitness expert from Harper Woods who's in his second go-round as head coach. He bought into the league in 2010 for a very low figure his wife prefers he not mention, took over as field boss temporarily in 2016, and immediately won a game.

“We hadn’t won in a thousand days,” he says, but after they broke the curse, they won three more times before the season wound down.

“I’ve been that person who ends a streak already,” Steepe says. He could just hand the responsibility for this one to somebody else.

The thing is, though, the last coach already did that. He showed up at the seventh game of the 2021 season, dropped off his equipment and walked away.

Steepe stepped in, and planted his feet.

Powered by honor and affection

At lower levels of ultimate, there are no referees. Players call fouls, discussing them with opponents if there's a disagreement.

The UFA has officials, but also has what's known as the integrity rule. A player who disagrees with a call that went in favor of his team can override it.

Steepe loves that about his sport. Three games into a 12-game season in a 24-franchise league, he loves other things about his team.

The salaries reflect the Mechanix' modest attendance, he says, and maybe the particularly low budget has something to do with the losing streak. Maybe the annual roster turnover does, too.

But those can be positives, if you squint at them from the right perspective.

“One thing that’s super important, and distinguishes our athletes, is that they play for the love of the game and the promotion of it,” he says.

Another is that they start the season as strangers, often geographically and demographically far apart. The current roster, from youngest to oldest, includes an 18-year-old working to become a pilot and a 36-year-old business owner, and there’s a spot waiting for the alumnus who played into his 50s, if he wants to make a comeback.

“Each year there’s a different team, different regions, different accents,” Steepe says.

Only seven of the dozens of players on the roster are Mechanix veterans, and two of them sat out in 2023.

No wonder they’re winless — but what about that second game, when they lost to the Indianapolis AlleyCats by only 25-16?

“This probably isn’t the way other people are going to measure it, but three months ago, these individuals did not know one another existed,” Steepe says. They've made one another's acquaintance, and now they're making strides.

The next game comes on the road at 7 p.m. Friday against the Pittsburgh Thunderbirds.

The T-birds have started slowly, with two losses in three games. This could be the Mechanix’ moment.

Or not. Or maybe they don't really need one.

"Losing is about your perspective," their coach says. The final score tells a story, but not the whole story.

"Growth is winning," Steepe says, and maybe that's a cheer for Rusty:

Grow, team.

Reach Neal Rubin at NARubin@freepress.com.

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This article originally appeared on Detroit Free Press: Detroit Mechanix, losers of 76 straight, try to crank out a win