A few weeks ago a woman, Tanya Rider of Washington, was stuck in her car for eight days while her husband tried desperately to get the police just to look for her. The police wouldn̢۪t even let the guy file a missing person̢۪s report. They were more interested in telling him no. She probably just ran off on you, they said.

Telling someone no is a powerful responsibility. It shouldn̢۪t be taken lightly. Most of the time it isn̢۪t a matter of life or death, but sometimes it is absurd the lengths that people will reach for to tell you no.

It happened just the other week to me. Twice.

Last year and during this past summer the Fresno State Ultimate Frisbee team deliberated about where and what time to play. We decided on playing just west of Bulldog Stadium because it is usually vacant and is large enough to set up two fields if needed.

The first practice was Monday, the first day of school, and we shouldn̢۪t have bothered to set up the field. We did set the field up though, and easily enough because there were wide red lines already painted on the field.

How festive.

A man innocuously drove a golf cart around the field as we played. He drove around again, this time coming up to us.

His boss had just told him to come over to us and tell us to get off the field because they couldn̢۪t mess it up for the weekend. It happened to be the first Fresno State football game against Sacramento State.

Just then we all looked down. Oh no! Those red lines weren’t outlining a field. “But, isn’t this going to be a parking lot for tailgaters,â€Â we said.

“Uh, yes it is and that’s why we can’t have you messing it up,â€Â he told us.

So, since the field was going to be a parking lot in six days, we couldn’t play on it today? Yep. “Well we can’t have just anyone coming on to our field and playing,â€Â he said. “We’re all Fresno State students and we’re a club sport here,â€Â we told him. Request denied again.

He was all out of contrived excuses—almost. The man began to stammer. “My boss said he doesn’t want you messing up the fields with your cleats,â€Â he said.

Oh.

“What if we take off our cleats?â€Â we asked.

No.

So we left.

Then we ran into the problem of finding a new field. It was the first day of school and we had flyers to put up, a booth given to us that Thursday, and new recruits looking for a place to play. We were lost without a field. Without an accessible place to play, we had nothing. It̢۪s not quite like having to endure eight days trapped in a car, but the goal is the same. Scramble time.

The other captain and I looked over our options. We needed a field fast. Maybe we could play on the IM field next to the softball stadium. Denied. Maybe we could play just south of the South Gym on the dorm field. We are a club sport, we are entitled to field space. So we thought.

The day after we got the boot by the man in the golf cart we visited the department that could grant us the field. The other captain came from the sports club office, ready with requests and the backing of the club sports office. The wait was only a few minutes and we got in to talk to someone. They told us no. That sort of field allocation was done by the club sports office.

The other captain was calm. Inside I was freaking out with red-tape annoyance. He explained that he just came from that sports office and they sent him to this one.

“We can’t do it,â€Â they told us. “We can’t give you that field two days a week for two hours each day.â€Â

“What exactly do we need to do to get that field?â€Â we asked.

“Oh, well if they told you to come over here, you can just fill out this paper and we’ll review it,â€Â they said.

Awesome. We got the paper and stepped outside the office and filled it out on the wall.

They told us they would call us in a few hours. Whew, finally a win. Except not. Sometimes I forget that people think that Ultimate Frisbee players do drugs and say “dudeâ€Â a lot.

A few hours later we got the call. They told us they couldn̢۪t give us the field because of liability issues. If someone got hurt, it would be a huge issue. Maybe like a $5 million problem.

The captain played it cool, waiting to strike. “So I guess it would be helpful if we had insurance, wouldn’t it?â€Â my co-captain asked like a beaten, downtrodden, financial-aid request denied again student. Exactly, the department said. “Well, that’s good,â€Â he said, “because we do have insurance. We’re a club sport.â€Â

“Oh.â€Â So we got the field.

Why did the university make it so difficult for us to get a field?

We̢۪re a club sport. We pay tuition. We represent Fresno State against teams across the nation. We̢۪re the Fresno State team that beats Cal and USC even though it̢۪s only our second year. The school should be scrambling to find us fields.

Inevitably, the “who caresâ€Â question arises. Not everyone that plays high school sports is good enough to be on the college baseball or college football team. People want to compete on a team or to lead a club. Clubs help schools. When schools don’t help clubs, there’s a problem.

I don̢۪t know if it̢۪s laziness or that people want to feel powerful by telling people no, but sometimes people should remember just how satisfying it is to give someone a chance and see them succeed. Now that doesn̢۪t mean someone should always be told yes, but they shouldn̢۪t be denied just because there̢۪s nothing else to tell them

And Tanya Rider? She̢۪s not dead but now she̢۪ll probably be missing a leg when she wakes up. The good news is that she was upgraded to serious condition last Monday. I bet she̢۪s thrilled.

Granted, our situation is nowhere near as dire. We won̢۪t be losing a leg because we can̢۪t run on a field.

Sometimes someone doesn̢۪t want to be found, but often they do.