The BIG DAY- A fictional Story.
The big day was coming, The
National Stock Class Championship. Nick
Furious or bubba as called by his friends had registered the first chance he
got. Sure the drive to Florida
was a long one but this day would live forever the first nation wide stock
tournament. He had waited anxiously
cleaning his marker a beautiful Red VSC Phantom polishing every piece and
replacing it back to its spot. He went
to his field and drilled at the range.
Getting his sight perfectly aligned in his kill spot of 75 yards. He knew he needed to out shoot his opponents
with the FIRST ball. He couldn’t afford
to miss. He worked relentlessly while
his semi friends laughed at him for shooting such a relic gun. He did not get angry he did yell at them he
just knew in his own mind that stock class was for winners not whiners. He chatted online late into the night
talking about the newest strategies. He
emailed pro-shops arranging for gun upgrades.
He had his gun modded so that it received his semis top of the line
barrel and a new pump arm to fit over the new Freak barrel. The pump was now silky smooth and he worked
it perfecting his cocking motion.
Days passed
and Nick played hard and long. He knew
if he wanted to win in an area where it is the player not the gun he must truly
be the best player. He took on cocky
players wielding their Electro-Pneumatic wonder machines that could let out
streams of paint. He was patient and in
most cases with one solitary ball ended with what his opponent tried using
hundreds to do. Nick worked his
positioning and helped the field owner set up the field to be just that of the
fields he would soon be using. Drill
after drill he would be the best.
The time
came the week of the tournament. It was
a modified stock event allowing for only 15 round magazines and 12-gram co2
cartlets. He drove from his cold and
tiring town in Iowa through the
bread bowl of America. He stopped in several towns to see their
paintball facilities. Swelling with
pride when people actually knew what stock class was. He knew this would be a thankless adventure but it didn’t matter. Because he would play with honor and
respect. He wouldn’t need to argue with
refs or wipe away paint, because than he would know and others would know that
the stock class way of life had been spoiled.
He arrived
in Florida and stayed in a low
cost motel out side of the Wide World Of Sports. He watched as the press greeted big named paintball heroes. Ed Poorman announced he would in fact be
playing and promoted his new Evolution II super loader capable of firing of 17
balls per second. Nick just laughed
knowing that Poormans' skill lay in the number off paintballs he was given to
fire. His polished CCM pump was bought
not earned. Nick walked the fields
eyeing the firing lanes as the big leaguers sat back and sipped drinks. He double-checked his gear as they where
soaking in hot tubs.
The first
day of the tournament was a sunny Florida
Friday. The sun beat down happily
against the hundreds of nervous players.
Nick shot through the prelims without faltering. Each shot was crisp and perfect he had been
perfect except for one game when it took him all of two shots to eliminate his
opponent. He congratulated each player
of their play and granted them luck on there next game. In an off round Nick went to see the
commotion in a field with literally hundreds of spectators. Ed Poorman was cowering behind his bunker
trying to figure out why his opponent kept getting angles on him. His opponent weaved around the heavy-footed
Poorman. Poorman took a clear hit to
the chest and laid down immediately making the mark vanish. Many spectators gasped watching the
act. I nodded in disbelief. It was as if Jeremy Salm was in the woods
sniping all over again. Poorman was
disqualified and was talking to the tournament sponsors trying to get things
‘settled’. Nick at that time need to
go back and play his semifinal game against a Russian who from rumors around
the tournament had been training all year through his government. He was sent to win and bring glory to his
people.
The match
started with huge gains by both players.
They met at close to the fifty.
Each tried getting angles on each other but had no luck in getting a
perfect angle. They sat head on spread
out by about 75 feet. Nick knew
something drastic would need to be done if he was to get the win. That or an error would be made. Suddenly out of the corner of his eye he
noticed a small piece of jersey coming from the side of the bunker. HIS ELBOW.
Nick knew the shot. He had made
it many times before. It was just like
the hanging pot at the field range. He
carefully snapped out. Took his deadly
aim and fired a single shot. He watched
in awe as the ball slowly floated towards his adversary. Hoping and praying in the second that the
shot would hold. He watched in joy as
the ball didn’t bounce but broke beautifully.
He had beaten someone who he was unsure of. Both players stood and walked slowly to each other.
“You have
beaten me!” proclaimed the Russian in awe. “ I am the champion I never loose.”
“Good game
friend.” Nick shouted, with an outstretched hand.
Nick ran to
the posting board watching point totals and the proceedings. He had made the finals. He jumped with joy. Many players complimented him on his amazing
play and said that he needed to watch out next year. Only one thing was left.
The finals game. He still didn’t
know whom he would be facing. The
judges didn’t even know. Finally the
main judge came out with a sad look on his face. He had spoken to the tournament sponsors. They decided that Poorman had been unfairly
disqualified and would be giving another chance.
“But we are
already at the finals.” Nick yelled.
The head
ref simply nodded and said that Mr. Poorman would be playing in the
finals. Nick walked slowly from the
tent and sat outside. The Russia
walked by and sat down.
“Ed Poorman
has powerful sponsor ties, no?”
“Its not
fair, he paid his way to the finals, you should be there not him.” Nick complained.
“If you win
the world of stock play wins.” Nodded
the Russian. “We are all filled with honor and integrity. We shall win as a group.”
Nick stood
up and ran to his car. He needed to be
ready. He wanted to school the
weak-minded cheater. He hand selected
the balls and gently placed them into his 10 round tubes. We checked over his gun and knew he was
ready. He walked over to field number
one, were the game would be played. He
watched as the bleachers filled up around them. People where standing 4 or 5 deep all around the field waiting to
watch him play. He took a deep breath
lowered his mask and waited for the count.
Ed was casually standing by the dead boxes talking to a news
camera.
“Why don’t
you just stay there, make my job easier.” Taunted Nick.
The match
started with a large gain by Poorman.
Nick slowly made his way around the tape. Poorman was unloading paint and stayed at the bunker that he had
first moved to. Nick just laughed at
how simply his adversary was attempting to play spraying paint and hopping one
may find its mark. The elimination
would be too easy. Nick carefully aimed
behind his bunker were he knew Poorman was and darted out placing a shot
perfectly over Poormans’ shoulder. He
then jumped up and ran to the next bunker over. He had purposefully thrown the shot. He wanted to teach this bad egg a lesson in defeat. Poorman looked around trying to figure were
the shot had come from while Nick set up for another buzz hit. This time he aimed his trusty phantom right
across Poormans’ back. He fired it
flawlessly skimming across his back but not breaking, that’s gotta hurt. This hit made Poorman scream out. He didn’t even know where the shots were
coming from, the spectators knew. Nick
was moving by the time the ball was off.
He didn’t even get to watch his artwork. By this time Nick was behind Poorman, who was cowering behind his
bunker. He had been so used to paying
for success, even at this respectful tournament he had gotten to the finals
without effort. Nick decided the games
were soon to end so he slowly and carefully positioned himself directly behind
Poorman. He took aim and remembered
something Poorman had said to reporters earlier.
“Yeah stock
is so easy just because you only have to dodge one ball at a time.” Laughed
Poorman.
“Dodge
this.” Yelled Nick, to a Poorman surprised to hear a voice behind him. Turning to watch a solitary ball smash into
his mask. A perfect shot. One he couldn’t wipe.
The crowd
went wild. The media persons all shook
their heads in disbelief.
“What an upset.” One reporter
proclaimed.
“No what is upsetting is that
tourney players get away with everything.
They have lost their honor in the game and that’s what upsets me.” Corrected Nick.
Nick drove home with a new found
respect for himself and for paintball in general. Sure Poorman had still come in second but he didn’t win by his
old ways. He was stopped in his
tracks. Nick won a brand new CCM pump
and every thing he could have possibly wanted with it.
“Why would I want that? I’ve got old red.” Nick laughed. He sold the marker and bought his home field
a set of matching phantoms so that he could help spread stock play in the
area. He slowly but surely changed the
way this noble game play had been seen.
