The Final Game

This is it; I made it to the final game. I had a dream last night that I would be here.

Very few have experienced what it feels like to stand if front of the glaring lights of the final game at the Balboa Open. 32+ competitors are now down to just four. Just one game left for all the marbles. Just making it this far is a good accomplishment but the work isn’t over.

Standing next to me are my best friends; they know what I feel right now. As epic buddies we have battled all day to get to this moment. Just standing at the sun brings things into perspective. I choke down another shot, at this point all alcohol taste like poison. Between the shot I just took, countless beers, and anything else that came my way. I can’t believe I am still standing. However things are starting to look a little weird and I am probably yelling a lot. “FISHER”

Just when you think you’re surrounded by your friends, you find that it’s your friends who betrayed you all day. They are the ones who continue feeding you alcohol. Most humans pass out from drinking all day, but Open competitors must maintain until the end, either you make it to the final game or well early elimination.

As I look around, the field is lined up and down with spectators. Yelling and screaming, this is what these people have waited for all day for. The final game if I can’t get it done here I’ll have to wait a whole year before I can try again.

After over 30 games throughout the day the sand in the pits is gone, the freshly painted backboard appears dirty and dented. Eliminated competitors can be seen passed out throughout the venue, nevertheless right before the final game the pits magically emerge in near perfect condition and anyone who had been sleeping seems to rise to see what all the commotion is about.

This is my forth game today facing elimination, not only did I lose a critical early round match, but my last final four game was way to close. During the flip I call “up” and surprisingly it goes my way. I really want to open this game with a ringer not only will it light this crowd up, but it will also put some early pressure on my opponent and show I mean business. But I can’t even see the pin; I know it’s there somewhere.

It’s more like using The Force at this stage in the game. You must fight off both real and imaginary shadows. It seems that everything is clouding your vision of the pin, but you don’t have time to just stand there to concentrate you need a rigger.

Dam I love the Tyson swingers, the weight seems just right and when I feel a ringer coming on I know the swingers will deliver, as I hear the crowd roar. Yes a ringer.

The atmosphere created during the final game is tense. Ringers don’t win these kinds of games. Stacks are what really matter, feeling pressure and being able to answer the call is what separates the winners and the losers.

“That’s what I‘m talking about” as I fist pump my teammate because he just got us back in the lead. Now it’s my turn. “18-17” Nothing gets me more pumped than my teammate throwing ringers. I really want to end this game right now.

With the crowd cheering and the sounds of ringers the final game is what everyone is there for. Your within striking distance of the goal, someone is going to Achieve Epic Glory; It could happen at anytime.

When I open my eyes I don’t see the pin, I can’t even see the pit. Did I black out? Did I win? I look over and see a picture of me labeled Balboa Open Champion 09; it was all a dream, but a dream that had already come true. Deja Voo