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I'm going to tell you a paintball story today. Paintball is a game that I've often described as 'tempered aggression'. You have to attack, but you must be smart about it. It requires killer instinct with calm precision. It's a game where you must be fleet on your feet and aware of your surroundings. You compute who is where, what their angle is, and how you can shoot them without them shooting you. It's a game of field dominance. It is as mental as it is physical, but the physical side is something that brings out the beast in men. Sometimes. I've seen best friends fight, I've seen people blow up at each other for almost no reason. And yes, I have even been caught up in the bullshit in rare times. Today was one of those times.
I've been playing at this field for about 6 years. I know it well and I'm a good player. I try to keep my trap shut because I know my game speaks well for me. In fact almost every week I've gotten a knick-name. Here are some:
Rambo, Captain America, The Assassin, Lighting Bolt, Darth Vader, Robocop, Darkman, even Master Sargent from Halo and the list goes on and on and on. Call me cocky, I don't care. I'm just telling this story honestly for what it is, and this back story is important in understanding what's to come. Over the years, I alone know most every week people give me a knick-name and it's always one out of respect for my ability. The fact I repeat it now, I'd appreciate it if you as a reader don't get the wrong idea. Meanwhile if I was full of hubris on the paintball field, I wouldn't last long.
Having said that, this article will be PG article. It's not for kids to read. Most women may not even understand it, although I'm sure you'll have strong opinions.
Every year or so, some asshole gets in my grill (face). It's been about two years since I've had someone pull this with me and today was one of those unsatisfying moments. Here is what happened. I start that day by being assigned randomly on a team and squashing the other side on behalf of my team. Not because I intended to but it just happened. As a courtesy I go to the other team after the game and tell the other team that I'll lay back next game as I'm not here to ruin anybody's day. A moment or two later a couple guys answer back, "Naw man you don't have to do that..." and his voice trailed off with something else. I kept my word. Next game I offered the team some recon and took a point position directing bodies without being a jerk about it. I shot three paint-balls in the game and I think the second one was the one that took out their point man. That was enough for me. I tried to move people up to attack and enjoy the fun. And for the most part I only needed to move a couple less aggressive players as I was on a team with what seemed to amount to a bunch of overtly aggressive 20 year old punks from Middletown Delaware mixed with a couple of hopeful intermediates. It seemed the other side had some newbs and few strong players. I would later find out how right I was in this assessment.
Next game I offer to switch sides as I can see my team is aggressive and the other team needs help. Here is where my story comes into focus.
A buddy of mine named Jeff shows up and they put him on the team I was previously on. Jeff and I are not allowed to play on the same team as we have equal skill and the field operators don't want to see us demolish everyone else. We reluctantly accept this decision. We often both play down as to not make people just playing at this field for the first time not want to return. In this next game I tip him off that he is on a good team. I know I'll need to step up my game. I like a challenge. On the break I take a key midfield position. I shoot one guy in the head and begin to think due to my dominant position I should just relax and take my time. I decided I'll keep an eye on Jeff. I didn't do a good job of keeping an eye on Jeff. Meanwhile I'm trading shots with a guy that will not post out of his position putting me in a long waiting game. Being posted means to be slightly out of your bunker in a ready shooting position. You want to be posted so that when your opponent decides to post out, you can then just fire off a couple shots and get a quick head shot. Essentially I'm posted out on the opposite side of battle waiting for this guy to come out so I can shoot him. Thirty seconds of waiting can seem a long time. I waited and waited. I'm usually very patient.
In my boredom I raised my head just enough and in a rare sloppy moment and gave Jeff a clean shot at my head from the opposing side. I felt two hit me in the temple and peeking up I could see Jeff delivered the shots. I underestimated his position which allowed him a clean lane of shooting. Live and learn. I called myself out. I put my hand up out of the bunker and wave a few times that I'm coming out and begin to stand. A barrage of paint comes at me from other players. I stand up now calling out, "My hand is up for a reason, I'm out!" Letting everyone know not to shoot any more.
Two guys about the age of 20 started cursing at me from the back. I say 'from the back' because that is where newbs camp out on the back line. These brave guys start cursing at me, "Yeah you suck, get off the field f'ing asshole." As soon as that line was delivered there was more. So as I'm walking off, I say, "Who said that?" Two guys yell out, "Me!" followed by, "What the fuck are you gonna do about it asshole?" and they more »
