Version one...

Wednesday, November 30, 2005


There is a word being whispered in the quiet corners of paintball's corporate world, behind closed, guarded doors, by small groups of fretful executives.

The word is, recession!

Corporate paintball took a hit this year. And in typical fashion corporate paintball is standing around wondering who farted while knee deep in their own poo.

Grab up and read a handful of different paintball magazines and tell me if anything pops out at you!

One caters to tournament ball. One thinks scenario games are the greatest. Another tells you pump action is the gentlemanly way to play while another thinks it's cool to show pictures of kids showing off their welts. Advertisements scream MIL-SIM on one page, TOURNAMENT ELECTRONICS on another, while yet another page has a naked girl selling cheap STARTER PACKAGES.

You have to be a punk to play paintball. No wait you have to be Rambo. No wait...you have to be a dad wanting to bond with his kids. No wait, you have to be a female.

Sybil has nothing over paintball. Like a cat with 15 lives, paintball trundles along, twenty years young, still trying to find itself.

One shot, rock and cock. Twenty shots and twist that six pack. One hundred and eighty shots, refill that hopper. Six hundred shots and replace that constant air. Shake that hopper, no wait, switch it on. Pull the trigger once and bounce six shots. Pull that trigger four times and watch that velocity rise.

Try putting a finger on what paintball actually is. You'll have better luck nailing jello to a wall.

Paintball is psychotic. Entering onto the game right now is like trying to cross a six lane highway at rush hour.

Makes me want to buy an X-box!

(to be continued...)

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Points of view...

I do not have potholes in my parking lot!

They are speedbumps!

Happy holidays!

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Tournament???

If it had only happened a couple of times I wouldn't have thought twice about it but over a dozen times in the past couple of weeks I have taken calls from people wanting information about the tournament on Sunday, November 20.

As politely as possible (or at least as politely as possible for a mean and grumpy field owner) I reminded each caller that it was a BIG GAME, not a tournament!

And now it's necessary to explain why it makes a difference to me.

A big game is not a tournament, no matter how hard some people try to make it so.

Once upon a time BIG GAMES/SCENARIO GAMES use to consist of a bunch of folks coming together, splitting up into two teams, and playing paintball all day and in some cases on through the night.

Now (actually they have been around awhile) there are Big Game/Scenario (BG/S) teams. They are made up of players, sometimes a few in number, more often ten or fifteen strong that play as a team within the team. Sometimes they are tasked with special operations. Usually they are there just to wreak havoc or to attempt to show off just enough to win the Best Team award that is tossed out at these events.

There was once a time when all I had to worry about while playing these Big Games or Scenarios was popping over a hill and finding myself outnumbered by a Dad and his two sons. Now you can't go to these events with out wondering where or when you might come up against a BG/S team squad strength complete with radio communications and rear echelon support! Yet another class of players to add to the already over flowing class list of players (rec-ball, woodsball, tournament, airball, noobie, amateur, pro, division I, division II, pump, semi, electro, 3 man, 5 man, 7 man, x-ball, PSP, NPPL, ad naseum...)!

I don't like BG/S teams. They are not good for Big Games or Scenarios. I will not allow a BG/S team play (intact**) in my Big Games (**they are welcomed to attend as long as they agree to split up).

It's suggested by some that there is a place for BG/S teams, that they should form an association or league and play each other tournament style! It has been tried. I can tell you it won't catch on due to the very nature of BG/S teams.

Tournament teams are created in hopes of becoming the best among many. BG/S teams are formed in order to insure they are the best among a few.

It's an elitist thing!

And keep in mind - the "comments" section is turned off but you are always welcome to e-mail me (include "paintball" somewhere in the subject or it's trashed). Also keep in mind that these are my humble opinions so your comments will be regarded as irrelevant. Love you all! Have a happy Turkey Day!

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This one is for the boys...!

My apologies in advance for the delicate subject of this post!

Most guys, when playing baseball without the benefit of a cup, who get hit in the groin by a bad hop, fall to the ground and mumble, "Damn, I should have wore a cup."

If you are playing football without a cup and get kneed between the legs you roll up in the fetal position and mumble, "Damn, I should have wore a cup."

When you get smacked in the privates by a freight training tennis ball you drop your racquet and crawl off the court thinking, "Damn, tennis isn't a sport where you usually wear a cup but, damn, I wish I wore one."

So why is it when a player gets nailed in the jewels by a paintball they drop to the ground and DON'T mumble, "Damn, I should have wore a cup."

Instead they say, "Why does Mick let these sharpshooters, who only aim between the legs and are here only to make my life miserable, play on his field?"

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Give WHO a break...?

Went to the movies the other day and bought a small, dollar fifty popcorn. I finished that bad boy off before the previews ended, so I went out front and bought me another. And just to be nice I broke down and bought Marylou one too. I sure thought dinner would have filled her up! Movie got slow about half way through (plus I had to relieve myself of a quart of cherry Coke) so I bought another small popcorn.

And then, as the movie was ending it hit me. I paid six bucks for four small popcorns when I could have paid five fifty for a super jumbo size.

THEM SOB'S RIPPED ME OFF!!!

I could of saved fifty cents.

So, you know what I did (No, I didn't say to myself, "Next time I'll get the jumbo." I'm no push over!)? I reached under my seat and grabbed those four small popcorn cups and marched right out to the concession and demanded my fifty cents.

And you know what the manager said?

I won't repeat what he said but I can say this. That's the meanest and grumpiest theater manager I've every come across.

Man, some people!

(And for anyone who might have missed the irony or satire in this little story - every weekend someone will buy four 100 round bags for $20 and when they find out they could have bought one 500 round bag for $20 they insist I owe them a free bag. At first glance this might seem like an innocent enough request. Lord knows I've sucked it up on many occasions and gone ahead and given some kid the bulk price break.

But, dang it, you adults should know better. A salary has to be paid FIVE times to prepare those FIVE bags of paint and a salary has to be paid FIVE times to serve those FIVE bags of paint. That's why those FIVE 100 round bags cost more than ONE 500 round bag. A salary only has to be paid ONE time to prepare that bag and a salary only has to be paid ONE time to serve that bag - a break for me that I'm willing to pass on to you.)

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Just another day...

I cringe whenever I go to split a group into teams and one of them says, "Oh, we already have the teams picked." Typically it's a declaration from one of the Alpha males in the group and I can always count on the teams being neither fairly picked nor evenly matched.

It happened today. It was a group of adults so I threw caution to the wind and said, What the hell! as I led the two teams into the woods. It was pretty clear by the first game and very obvious after the second game that it was going to be a long day for one of the teams.

I offered to split them up a couple of times but the team getting their butt's whooped insisted on playing on, mostly as a matter of pride. (Did I mention it was a military group?) In the end one team limped home, battered and bruised, not exactly a group of folks I would expect to come out and play again anytime soon while the other team hooted and hollered and slapped themselves on the back in celebration of their victory(s).

So now I'm disappointed with myself for not insisting that the teams be reformed, upset that I let one team convince me the teams didn't need to be reformed and pissed that the other team would set their buddies up and use them the way they did.

They say we are all wired differently. Does that explain why some people care, some people don't and others just don't give a damn?

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Just thoughts...

"Bullet with a name on it."

Sounds sinister, doesn't it?

It's the name of an album or a song or something that just came out. I heard it on the radio. What ever. It doesn't matter

"Bullet with a name on it" is gangsta. It conjures up (to me anyway) scenes from the Godfather or The Day of the Jackal (anyone remember that one - a classic sniper/assassin film)? The phrase has been used in more than one military combat movie too, I'm sure.

Now, replace bullet with paintball...

"Paintball with a name on it."

Ummmm.... hehe, sorry folks. Allow me a moment to, well... giggle!

"Paintball with a name on it" just doesn't come close to "Bullet with a name on it"!

I guess that explains why someone PLAYING paintball with a mil-sim gun wearing an LBE loaded with grenades makes me want to, ummm, giggle!

I suppose that's why someone wanting a paintball sniper rifle makes me shake my head.

Come to think of it, that's why, when some bad ass struts off the field thinking he just accomplished something big by jacking up some little kid with half a dozen paintballs in the back, I want to go and slap him back into reality.

I'ts not "BULLET with a name on it"

You didn't just clear a bunker at Iwo Jima. You didn't just change history by assassinating a diplomat and you sure as heck haven't proved your machismo to any of the homeboys here at T2!

Bullet/paintball. RPG/snowball. Skud missle/spitball. Mac10/PMI Pirahna.

It's just a game!

It's important to keep this stuff in context.

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