Hot diggety, let's play some pong!
Game 1:
Q-Balls vs. Muffintops
"I feel like I'm peaking at the right time."
- Joel
Great gosh a-mighty, I will never play in a pong tournament. Besides the fact that I'd be an albatross around my teammate's neck, I will tell you up front that I have no interest in dealing with the pressure. Did you hear that crowd? If you were there, you did. (David Gibson, tournament newbie, must have been been feeling Vibrational Colon Disorder, which, I can tell you, doesn't end well and is not treatable. You just have to ride it out.) It was
loud. Petey was at his desk through break and he heard it all the up in the Grayson Attic. The opponents took their places and seemed to be calm and cool, but the truth came out really quickly.
Muffintops served first and Jess, the anarchist's anarchist, biffed the first two. Shtoink! Right off the edge of the table and straight up into the air. Perhaps if he was a nihilist he might have been less affected by nerves. After two more gifts to Q-Balls, Steven Q gave the Muffintops a charity point and we switched service at 4-1. Being the favorites, Q-Balls looked very much in control. Perhaps all the pre-game pro-Muffintops chatter was misplaced.
(This is the point in my write-up where you realize that you've been set up. Joel's opening quote, the two biffed serves, Gibson's digestive difficulty, the early lead by the favorites? Looks like it's going to be a crushing defeat for the Muffintops, eh? This is one of my few literary tricks, so get used to it. You'll see it again and again.)
But this is where things got interesting.
(See?)
The crowd was fully anticipating a Q-Balls victory. Expecting it, even. Even after Muffintops closed to within one on the following service, nobody paid it much mind. Even after Q-Balls fell behind 11-9, nobody questioned the inevitable victory. It's Q and Joel, right? Pfft! Game over. Jess was winning points off the serve, but he was so tightly wrapped and awkward-looking that Brian Smith said during one of Jess' offerings that, "He looks like a little Chinese girl!" They'd fall behind soon enough.
16-14, Muffintops. Hmm...
18-19, Muffintops. Whoa. What's this?!?
Deuce!! Ok, here we go. Here's where it ends for the 'Tops, si?
Jess serving. Q returns long! Advantage, 'Tops! Jess for game!
Muffintops: 22, Q-Balls: 20
I will say this without any fear of reprisal:
Nobody saw that coming!!
Game 2:
Hot Buzz vs. Wax Off
In contrast, nobody knew what to make of this game. Could JBrown hold it together? ("He hasn't slept for three days!" boomed Will Groebe.) What kind of player was Tom Collins? We've seen Brunet win championships under extreme pressure, but we've also seen Blaise, one of the better hitters in the competition, get completely consumed by his own focus to the point of destruction. This one could go either way.
Hot Buzz went to work early, staking themselves to a tidy little lead. Wax Off was still getting their points, though, and this one was far from over. The crowd was very much involved, and the trash talking and performance anxiety could easily change the outcome. Everyone had some really nice shots and even Tom Collins ripped off a couple of authoritative slams. At this point, the quotable Brian Smith made a keen observation.
"Look at Jim Brown's face. He looks like he could be the actor in a constipation commercial."
All of us in that corner of Centre Court looked over and it was true. JBrown's mug was a picture of intensity, multiplied by fear, minus confidence, plus maybe a little of what Gibson was experiencing earlier with the colon and such. The man did not look comfortable back there.
Blaise and TC seemed to relax into the game at this point, while Mike B and JBrown seemed to get tighter and tighter until...
Hot Buzz: 21, Wax Off: 11
One day, two favorites relegated to the Loser's Bracket. Ye gods! What next?
Kirk stopped by yesterday to thank me for running the tournament, but I really think it was a visit to pump up the Kirk Count. I'll only give that trip a half a point since it was a little bogus. 
One. One lousy pill shot today and it was on the last point of the last game. Thankfully it hit Gibson, so I can go home with a faint song in my heart.
Kane got absolutely manhandled today. $4 going out, $2 coming in for a net of -$2. He was lucky it wasn't worse.
When I got out to my truck this morning, I found that it had been manhandled like a cheap whore during the night. It was covered with streaks of mud and footprints. The outboard mirrors were all cocked up. Seems that one or more raccoons thought that trampling my vehicle might somehow lead to a big food payoff. They were wrong and now my truck looks like it's two steps away from being on blocks in the front yard. Nature's bandidos, those raccoons. Still, they're cute and I like them.
We've got some breaking news. Go ahead, Brian...
