OmegaBall is three times the fun

OmegaBall features three teams and three goals. /Chris Wellhausen photo

Soccer is often called “The Beautiful Game.” If that’s the case, the sport of OmegaBall is best described as its cute and quirky sidekick.

Three goals, three five-a-side teams, one ball, a circular field – and no offsides rule – set the stage for a frenzied, frantic competition.

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There are no throw-ins, only corner kicks, and players can take shots on goal at any goal other than their own. Divided into three, 13-minute periods, it’s never short on action.

The first time I saw it, I was hooked.

“The game is so intense and unpacked, that the goalkeepers are even involved in it,” OmegaBall founder  Anthony Dittmann told me during a recent telephone interview. “You know, sometimes you go an entire half of traditional soccer without even a shot on goal, let alone a goal scored. And listen – we want to embrace the soccer ecosystem … we want to be a part of it. We’re not trying to cannibalize it. But there are definitely some things that are intriguing about OmegaBall which we’re actually looking to take advantage of and leverage, things like more touches on the ball and less running.

“Hopefully, we’re getting kids off the couch that may be intimidated by traditional soccer.”

Aside from Dittmann, the OmegaBall brain trust consists of co-founders Jeff Kretchmar (CEO), Jamie Hemann (head of business), Adam Cozens (head of media and marketing), and Bob Funk Jr. (owner of Prodigal, a sports management and consulting firm).

Ricky Lopez-Espin, Paul Caligiuri and Lauren Sesselmann serve as advisors, bringing plenty of soccer experience to the fold.

Dittmann, Hemann and Funk had been colleagues at ESPN, and a casual conversation they had ultimately led to the creation of OmegaBall.

“I was talking with Jamie, and he was investigating starting an American football league,” Dittmann explains. “So, I went to (Funk), who has a very successful family business in Oklahoma City, and said, ‘Hey, remember Jamie from our old ESPN days? He’s trying to start a league. Would you be interested in investing in it because I thought you might have the horsepower to do so.’ And he said, ‘Anthony, I like Jamie. I obviously love football, but I think soccer is a better investment vehicle than American football.’”

Dittmann got off the phone and thought about it.

“Overall, I like soccer, but I’m not fanatical about it,” he said. “So, I started saying, like, why am I not fanatical about it like I am college football? I think there are a couple of obvious answers, one of them being offsides – offsides was really the one (rule) that irks me about soccer. I recognize there’s some need for it, but it’s such a low scoring game to begin with. Why? Why take a goal off the board for being one centimeter ahead of another player? So, I just continued to think about it. I wondered if the field was round, would that change the complexion of the game?”

Dittmann started scribbling and came up with a circular field, putting goals at the top and bottom. But when he examined the drawing, he realized it still wouldn’t significantly change the flow of the game.

“As I continued to look at the circle edge on the page,” Dittmann continued, “I thought, if you added a third team, would that create that circular play that I was trying to achieve? You can’t do that in baseball, you can’t do that in American football, but you could definitely do that in soccer.”

Dittmann continued to tweak his concept, and two weeks after their original conversation, he got in touch with Funk again.

“I had an idea, and Bob kind of thought I was a little crazy,” Dittmann remembers. “But the reason why I went to Bob originally to invest in Jamie’s league was I knew he was in the sports space, and I knew he owned a minor league hockey team. What I didn’t realize was he owned Oklahoma City Energy FC at the time, which was the (United Soccer League) team there. So, of course, he’s invested in soccer.”

All this took place during the COVID-19 pandemic, but Dittmann and Funk continued to hammer out details, both in person and remotely. Ultimately, Dittmann came up with a blueprint for OmegaBall, and several Energy FC players agreed to participate in a test game played in July, 2020, in Oklahoma City.

“These guys aren’t bartenders at night, they’re professional soccer players full-time, and they loved it,” Dittmann said. “It was the first testament to us being onto something. They had a lot of fun with it. The first period we had eight players on each team, and that was pretty crowded. So then in the second period we had seven players on each team, but it was still a little congested on the field. Then it was down to six and we finally settled on five, including the goalkeeper. And we embraced the circle concept.”

Dittmann especially likes the fact that keepers are sometimes on the attack.

“You’re sweating as a goalie, too,” Dittmann said. “Like it is, it’s a lot of work, and you’re constantly scanning the field for what’s coming at you next. ‘What am I planning for defensively, but what also, what can I do to help out the offense?’ Because we’ve seen goalies score, we’ve seen goalie get assists – we’ve seen goalies assist on a one-timer goal, which is just so fun to see. Every time we play, the response has been very, very positive.”

The official OmegaBall field has a diameter of 175 feet with the goals extended slightly beyond the perimeter. Ideally, the area footprint around the pitch should be 200 x 200.

“Our game is meant to be quick and intense, so the clock counts down from 13 minutes to zero, each period,” Dittmann said. “One change we made is the clock does stop any time the ball isn’t in play the last two minutes of the third period (to defend against the team in the lead wasting time by kicking it out of bounds, for example). Another change is if a penalty occurs by Team B in front Team C’s goal, the penalty kick moves to Team B’s area, since they were the offender.”

OmegaBall finally evolved from test matches to sanctioned competitions in 2022, and since then there have been several events featuring players with pro and college experience.

Aside from the 39 minutes of chaos, there’s plenty of room for ruthlessness when the game gets down to cases.

“It’s really cool when Team A is trying to score on Team B, but Team C cherry-picks off of Team A from the back side and scores like that,” Dittmann says. “But something that we didn’t contemplate was vulture defenses, where if Team A is in the lead, Team B is one goal behind Team A, and they’re about to score on Team C’s goal, Team A will defend Team C’s goal. It’s just part of the dynamics of the game, which is really fun.”

The next scheduled event is the 2025 World OmegaBall Invitational, set for Aug. 1 at ESPN’s Wide World of Sports in Orlando. It’ll be yet another showcase for a sport that I hope develops professional leagues for men and women.

That’s probably still a few years down the road, but it seems like a logical step.

Personally, I’d love to see it take a cue from the early years of the Premiere Lacrosse League and start off with a touring model. It’d be cool to have OmegaBall teams come to various cities and spend a weekend putting on a show.

As for finding talent, there’s plenty out there. The Big3 is stocked with former NBA players. I’m guessing athletes who are done with MLS, USL, NWSL, etc., would be interested.

However they can make it happen, I’ll gladly jump on the bandwagon.

“We’ve been actively shopping to get investment,” Dittmann said. “We’ve been self-funded so far, and we’ve done all of this without a full-time employee. All we really need is, like, $5 million … and then a patch of grass. So, we’re excited from that perspective, and our ability to execute quickly and ultimately create a lot of traction within the sport once we get there.

“From youth recreational memberships to competitive youth memberships, all the way up to media rights and franchising for professional leagues and really everything in between, there’s lots of opportunity there.”

For more information, including the official rules, go to omegaball.com.

Monster Lake

Quercus Mound, Alabama – population one – is the smallest city in the state. In fact, it really isn’t a city at all, just a dusty spot on the side of the road, adorned by a cellphone tower and seven abandoned, yellowish single-wide trailers that once housed residents who have either died or moved.

But the area had gained quite a bit of notoriety over the years because just a few miles away – surrounded by thick, treacherous woods – is Monster Lake. Unlike most of the waterways in the state, Monster Lake is hardly a haven for anglers or water sports enthusiasts. No one visits to wet their hooks, or launch pontoon boats for a lazy day of floating and drinking. In fact, it’s rare to find anyone brave enough to go anywhere near it.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Bluesky @scottadamson1960.bsky.social

There’s good reason for that.

Monster Lake is so-named  because it’s allegedly home to the Quercus Mound RhinoCuda, which has killed at least 60 people over the past 30 years.

Twenty seven came there to fish, 22 to hunt, and 11 – through either ignorance or arrogance – figured they could get a peek at the monster and live to tell the tale.

They were all very, very wrong.

The creature, which is described as a cross between a rhinoceros and barracuda, lives on the bottom of the brackish lake and comes on land only to feed. It bursts out of the water with brute force and often spears its prey with the sharp, olive green horn on its gray snout. Once the victim is limp, the RhinoCuda shakes the person loose and clamps down with its gaping jaws, making quick work of the meal thanks to razor-sharp teeth.

Or so he says.

And “he” happens to be Lester Grappling, the lone resident of Quercus Mound. Thin, short and leather-brown thanks to years spent in the sun, he is a man who is unafraid of the RhinoCuda he calls “Pearlie Sue.”

Aside from a stint in the Navy, Grappling has lived most of his 53 years in a cabin just a few yards from the banks of Monster Lake. While it’s rustic to be sure – a post and beam home worthy of the cover of Country Living – it has a few high-tech features.

There is satellite dish along with a big-screen TV (“Can’t miss watching my Braves,” Grappling often says), and he makes sure his smart phone is always updated. While he doesn’t talk on it very often, he enjoys taking selfies with Pearlie Sue, although skeptics suggest photoshop is probably one of his greatest talents.

Word had gotten out that Grappling was something of a “monster whisperer,” which sparked speculation by podcasters and resulted in occasional pop-ins from TV reporters, anxious to interview the hermit with an active imagination. All that led to some national exposure, which is why on a muggy, late June day, 10 survivalists from the reality show Man’s Dominion arrived by caravan on the dusty road in the heart of Quercus Mound.

An entire season would be devoted to their latest quest, which was to spend the summer staking out Pearlie Sue – and ultimately capturing and killing her.

Brick Bannington, the show’s host, greeted Grappling as he made his way out of the woods and over to the contestants.

“Good to meet you, Mr. Grappling.”

“Mr. Grappling was my daddy,” Grappling said, extending his hand, “Call me Lester.”

“OK, Lester. Now, I’m guessing this is probably gonna be the biggest crowd you’ve ever seen here in Quercus Mound. Aside from our contestants, we’ve got the camera crew, hospitality and a medical team.”

“And if what we hear is true,” Bannington said with a wink, “we’re definitely gonna need some first aid.”

Grappling smiled politely, giving a once-over to the throng of people gathered by the woods.

“Nah, there won’t be any need for medics, Mr. Bannington,” he said. “Pearlie Sue don’t play. She kills to eat and eats what she kills. Course the law comes out here every time somebody goes missing. When they find what’s left of the bodies, they claim it’s a panther or a gator or something like that. That’s fine with Pearlie Sue … she don’t want credit, she just wants food.”

Grappling didn’t sound like he was joking.

“Well, Lester,” Bannington said, “I gotta admit – I think the authorities might be on to something. I’m not sure I believe all that monster stuff … I’m thinking maybe you got yourselves an oversize, Lake Placid-style croc. Either way, it oughta make for some good TV, especially after we get him.”

“Her,” Grappling said.

“Excuse me?”

“Her … Pearlie Sue’s a female.”

Bannington nodded.

“Sure, sure. Look, we’re gonna spend the next couple of days spreading everybody out and setting up their campsites. We were hoping you could be our guide, show us a few trails, that sort of thing. First though, we’d like to see your cabin … you know, get a shot of the man who lives among the monster.”

Grappling pointed to a dirt path leading into the woods.

“That’s how I come in and out,” Grappling said. “I go to Mobile for supplies about once a month and have made a road. Why don’t ya’ll just follow me in … there’s a huge clearing by the cabin and you can park all your vehicles there.”

Within an hour the convoy had relocated to the area next to Grappling’s abode, and Monster Lake was clearly visible form their makeshift lot. The water was calm and, from a distance, seemed clear.

Barrington and most of the Man’s Dominion cast followed Grappling as his walked closer to the water.

“Seems almost serene,” Barrington said.

“Oh it is, it is,” Grappling said. “It’s a beautiful spot for Pearlie Sue. And she loves it when I bring her treats – of course with all you people, it’ll be more like a feast.”

Barrington raised his eyebrows.

“Feast?”

“See for yourself.”

Grappling walked to the edge of the lake, cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted, “PEARLIE SUE! DINNER TIME!”

The water bubbled violently for several seconds before the gigantic creature emerged from the lake and launched a frenzied attack. Barrington was the first victim – speared and devoured in a matter of seconds – and within 10 minutes, the area surrounding Monster Lake was littered with bones and covered in blood.

Everyone was dead.

Everyone except for Lester Grappling.

As birds descended to peck away at the gory remains, Grappling peeked inside the hospitality van and realized there was enough food inside to feed him for six months. He started to carry some inside when Pearlie Sue – all 3,000 pounds of her – snorted, belched and plopped down at his feet.

He reached up and gently rubbed her head.

“Who’s my good girl?” he said in a sing-song voice. “You’re my good girl … yes you are! Eating up all those mean people. Best part of joining the Navy was pulling you out of that drift net in the Pacific, Pearlie Sue.”

Death of the Yellowhammer

Neighbors were already gathering on the sidewalk as the two homicide detectives – Danny Spiro and Maisie Petra – arrived at the split-level ranch-style house on Summerville Avenue.

The pair had only worked together a short time, and Petra, a sinewy former college decathlete, provided quite the contrast to Spiro with his five o’clock shadow and beer gut.

Scott Adamson writes stuff. Follow him on Bluesky @scottadamson1960.bsky.social

Officer Ben Clampett had been called to do a wellness check on the occupant, Charlie Chandler, after neighbors reported that they hadn’t seen him in the past three days and he didn’t answer his cellphone or door.

Clampett found an unlocked window near the back of the house and crawled through, where he spotted Chandler slumped over in his chair.

He was dead, and had apparently been dead for several hours.

“What do we have here, Ben?” asked Spiro, as he and Petra approached. “Hey, Danny. And Officer Petra, is it? Welcome to the precinct. Yeah, it might be nothing, but I’m not sure Mr. Chandler’s death is just a case of an old man dying of old age. Come inside.”

The trio approached the body as it lay in the hallway. There was no sign of blood or bruises, or anything to indicate a struggle, for that matter. But clutched in Chandler’s right hand was a crumpled piece of notebook paper.

There was a crude drawing of what appeared to be a blueprint of some sort and below that the words, “Havoc Club at large. Activate Violet Femme.”

“I saw that,” Clampett said, “and it just seemed, I dunno … ominous.”

Spiro looked at the corpse and then glanced at Petra, who seemed visibly shaken.

“You OK, partner?”

“Yeah … just never easy to find someone like this.”

Spiro was familiar with Chandler, and assumed since Petra had just transferred in from out of state, she probably wasn’t.

“Charlie was no stranger to the precinct,” he explained. “In fact, he was pretty much a regular. He was quite a character. He was always dressed in yellow and black and claimed to be a crimefighter named Yellowhammer – although he made us promise not to reveal his identity to anyone. Otherwise, the Havoc Club might find him.”

“That’s why I called you guys,” Clampett said. “I know he had an active imagination and all that, but the fact that he had that note makes me wonder if something might have happened to him.”

Petra put on rubber gloves and carefully examined the note.

“So, why did he say he was – what did you call it – the Yellowhammer?”

“Yellowhammer, yeah,” Spiro said. “He started coming to us years ago, saying he had intel about criminal activity and could help us stop it. And the weird thing is, sometimes he did. I mean, he got a lot of information off the police scanner and I guess did some amateur detecting on his own, but he had some really good tips a lot of the time. Not sure how he knew as much as he did. We even looked into him as a suspect from time to time, but he was always clean. Anyway, he said he was Yellowhammer, who was kinda like a dispatcher for people he called ‘better superheroes.’ He liked to say he saved the big stuff for the big guns, but wanted to help us out, too.”

“What do we know about Havoc Club and Violet Femme?”

Spiro chuckled.

“Havoc Club? We don’t know anything about ‘em because they don’t exist,” he said. “They might as well be the League of Shadows or the Sinister Six. And Violet Femme? Maybe he was just a fan of folk punk and didn’t know how to spell Violent Femmes. Look, I don’t mean to joke at a time like this. Charlie was a good guy and whatever happened is worth looking into, for sure. But I don’t think we need to follow comic book leads. Let’s just examine the body and go from there.”

“Still,” Petra asked. “Is it OK if I go over this note a little closer? You know, check for fingerprints, try and see if this blueprint means anything, stuff like that?”

“Knock yourself out, partner,” Spiro said. “Tell you what, we’ll get this place dusted and I’ll wait on the medical examiner, so you can knock off for the night. I know it’s been a tough day. Let’s regroup and get back at it first thing in the morning. I’ll ride back with Ben … you can take the car.”

“Nah,” she said. “I need to walk and clear my head. Besides, it’s just a few blocks from the subway. See you tomorrow, Danny. And thanks.”

Petra swiftly walked away from the crime scene and turned right at the end of the street. Finding Yellowhammer dead was shocking, to say the least, but she had no choice but to keep her grief in check.

She reached into her pocket, pulled out a small, black, cylindrical device, and punched the red button in the center.

“Yellowhammer is gone, I just confirmed it,” she said. “He was murdered, and it’s got Havoc Club’s fingerprints all over it. He did leave us a blueprint, though. Sending a picture of it now … get it to Clue Monger and have him figure out if this is their base. If it is, I need to suit up and get there as soon as possible. “Violet Femme signing off … I’ll report back when I know more.”