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Old 12-22-2010, 02:33 AM
131SteckTastic131 131SteckTastic131 is offline
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Default Ever wonder what i was doing with my itouch in the hotel rooms?

Eh, I'm kinda sensitive to criticism when it comes to writing, however in celebration of our new forum and the desire to fill it with content I shall post up my little memoirs from each event. I tried to keep it as pure as possible...only editing for typos and such. Don't harass me too badly.
I have bout 4-5 so i will bring up one a week or so.

Heres the first one from Huntington Beach:

Sunday Morning.


I can’t exactly explain the cocktail of feelings that I have mixed inside of me. Overall, It’s a sensation I'm not quite familiar with, but one that is joyful and uplifting. I find myself lying on my side in a strangely soft and comfortable bed, three stories above the surface of the earth, on the edge of the Pacific Ocean. I’m slowly waking up with a knot in my stomach and a pain in my head, thousands of miles away from my family, my home, and the few other things I miss outside of the paintball world. Analyzing that emotional cocktail further, I can’t say the escape of a mundane regiment and constant work schedule could be the sole catalyst in my recent emotional upturn, but it sure helps. If you're thinking that my play yesterday would have something to do with it, well you're wrong. It took alot of Malt Liquor and some California Kush to get over that, hence the hangover.

My team, the FP&PL All Stars, fell out of the Surf City Open yesterday, failing horribly in the preliminaries. A six and two record will only get you barefoot in the sand, watching the other teams play for glory and validation. The sobering sensation of disappointment is so demoralizing that I could have spent the rest of Saturday sulking on the Huntington Beach Pier, leaning against the rail and playing out all the games in my head while picking my actions apart; losing myself in a daze so deep and depressing that the masses of beautiful women and heart dropping views wouldn’t have knocked me out of. However, standing in the pits after my last lost, everybody else in the organization gathered around and made sure that I, or we I should say, wouldn’t be wondering off thinking ourselves to death. I felt like a failure. Being the team captain, I had worked so hard to establish communication with my west coast teammates and working game plans to maximize their talent with ours, but it didn’t matter. No matter what we did, we spent almost every game standing in the deadbox with paint stains. The Scrubs, our sister team, wouldn’t let us sulk for too long. Pats on the back and words of encouragement made me feel better, but it’s no longer my moment, it’s now time for Top Gun Paintball’s other team, the Scrubs.


Competing under Top Gun Paintball’s umbrella of competitive teams in every faction of paintball, The FP&PL players decided to embrace Top Gun Paintball and go head first into NPPL competition. We are still a new organization, still new to NPPL as a whole and it shows. Like when we mistake the body count and run past a Dorito player or spending more time at the crowded registration booth then the entire D4 five Man division. We made this west coast trip with one thing in mind, to prove that the east coast participates are great at playing this niche too, and to do that the Scrubs were our best shot. The best five players in our organization form this team, each one playing with each other for a while now though Kevin “Freedom” Henry’s Pistol and Pump League, which has traveled all over New Jersey the last two years collecting a diverse group of players that enjoy having to re-cock their marker after every shot, and will spend the next year and a half proving they’re good at it.

Mind you the preliminaries were yesterday, and as my teammate on the squeaky rollout bed starts to come to, I can’t help but visualize the games and emotions from the second bracket of preliminary games. In that bracket were the best teams the So-Cal pump scene had to offer, the bracket also included the Scrubs. It goes with out saying that I wouldn’t be waking up so early if the Scrubs didn’t make it to Sunday, and did they do so in an exciting fashion. They made the cut by two points over Aggressive Assault, who they had to beat in their last game to make it to the Sunday Club, and it was a fight. We didn’t think it would've ever gotten that close because as soon as the games started for the Scrubs, they ended almost as fast, in their favor. It wasn’t until the infamous field break did the team start to cool. The forty minutes it took for the break to end just took our heads out of the game. After a couple of losses it came down to the game I started to describe earlier….against Aggressive Assault. The pit was a mess and the atmosphere was stressed, it was obvious the entire trip hinged on this game and you could see that in the body language of the players, each one on the field; barrel socks and masks on, their leashes off. There was Jibro Cero who spent time visualizing his moves off break, Carl Atkins smacking his forehead getting himself mentally ready to win. When the barrel socks feel off and the referee dropped his hands Mickey Jaeger streaked down to the knuckle, Carl behind him in the Doritos. It wasn’t long into the game before Ji went to bunker a Carwash and Dorito player, inspiring a rash of movement on Dorito side. When it was all said and done, there were two bodies left on each team. Kenny Cole pulled off a gun battle of the century, which he has practiced so hard for in the off-season, as Flory bunkered their snake player….perhaps with a heel click. I cheered silently to myself as Kenny hung the flag.

It became clear to those footing around the masses of sandy gear bags and paintballs in our tent, that we accomplished a part of our goal already just by making the cut. Competing in the finals of a tournament is something thing this team has already done, placing 3rd at the DC open in 2009, 3rd at the turkey bowl the November afterward, and then 1st and 2nd place finishes at Top Gun’s pump tournament in January 2010. Nevertheless, to compete on the sand in Huntington Beach with some of the best pump teams on the West coast, not to mention the entire paintball community, made clinching the birth into the quarter finals something special. We accomplished something as a team, as a group and as an organization, but we aren’t done yet.

I am still comfortably in my covers, explaining to Kevin that I am not staring at him, but instead using my iTouch. As I am making my way though the hangover, typing this story, it became obvious why my spirits are in high swing this morning. I can't believe that it didn't come right to me...I think it had to do with what Dios was rolling in that paper last night. Now with that mystery solved Watson, this will be my last paragraph, because if you weren’t paying attention the Scrubs have made it to Sunday there for I got shit to do.

PS, Andrews girl gives him anal.

Last edited by RUDZ; 12-22-2010 at 04:04 PM..
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Old 12-22-2010, 11:46 AM
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Quote:
Ever wonder what i was doing with my itouch in the hotel rooms?
Porn was the first thing that came to my mind, then you came out with this gourmet shit
Good luck with the next coming years guys.
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Old 12-22-2010, 12:31 PM
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Bro, its awesome that you covered the season in detail like this. You should have this moved to the history thread that is stickied to the top of the forum.

Good Job Steckle!

-PK
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Old 12-22-2010, 02:24 PM
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i was actually afraid to open this thread.
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Old 12-22-2010, 10:02 PM
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Hey steck if you dont mind I would like to use these parts for the AOP article. Anything else you have please post it up or email it to me.
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Old 12-23-2010, 12:57 AM
131SteckTastic131 131SteckTastic131 is offline
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sure i got alot, let me know when you need it all by
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Old 12-23-2010, 06:54 PM
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bravo steck, trying to be like tim montressor? All joking aside this better not count as evidence of events that many of us probably dont want to be revealed.
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Old 12-23-2010, 08:55 PM
131SteckTastic131 131SteckTastic131 is offline
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lol montressor has nothing on me.
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Old 12-23-2010, 11:19 PM
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Its ok jade doesn't know about this account......she checks MCB all the time

But anyway great write up steck....can't wait to read more
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Old 12-23-2010, 11:55 PM
131SteckTastic131 131SteckTastic131 is offline
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The last one from HB:

Almost Back Home


I know one thing for sure, airports are not comfortable. I am still new to flying and have yet to catch a break; from the queasy time I spent over the Rockies to getting an extra pat down when I forgot to take off my hoody during the security check, or just ask the poor stranger that has to pick me up at Newark Int. Airport because I didn’t think about transportation back to my car that’s parked two hours away. Nevertheless, I find my self quite content in this cheap “pleather” chair, gnawing on my more then stale pastry, catching looks from all the passengers boarding the 1567 flight to Houston. I can’t blame em’, I must be one hell of a sight right now, and their eyes are probably just following their noses. I reek of alcohol and three day old clothes, which explains my cool buzz and the neglecting teammate that so far this morning had his “Droid” almost permanently placed in his damn ear leaving me virtually to my own thoughts, which is never a good thing. Not after another night with lingerie bars, hotel parties, and meowing waitresses. Not even a solid hour of sleep was able to shake the drunk out of my head or the Jaeger in my breath.

It’s close to six thirty am Pacific standard time on a Monday morning, which means yesterday was Sunday, A.K.A. Finals in the Paintball world. The Scrubs made quarterfinals which in part, accomplished our goal. The goal was to play well and put our mark on the pump community, but we got a ways to go till we make any sort of impact.
However, just knowing we made quarter finals Saturday night made waking up yesterday morning terrific and I was animated about what we could accomplish by days end. I was excited, hung over and all, to wake up early on a Sunday when I’m not playing to wipe hits and fill pods, quite unusual to say the least. I slide on my supposedly white but now yellow flip-flops, my green and yellow team shirt, and a pair of broken sunglasses that I bought a few days earlier on the beach, all of which had a particular amount of paint and sand. We all hopped in the shaggin’ wagon and took off for the coast. Although I wasn’t playing, that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to enjoy winning if a Scrub player hangs a flag. Today was our day and nobody was going to take it from us.

We didn’t know who exactly we were going to be playing, but it was either going to be the LA Hitmen or Blitz. Shortly after we started strutting into the player pits we ran into a few Hitmen players and the consensus among them had us as their opponent. We try not to size up teams, so in return we always play the best kind of paintball against our opponents regardless of their speculative skill level, but everybody knows the Hitman are a handful. We were still confident though; we had a real close game with them yesterday and mopped up their second team afterwards. We had no reason to second guess ourselves. To be honest, if we had won, this pastry would taste a hell of a lot better. Nevertheless, the danish is still stale and the LA Hitmen are a much better team then us. Two straight games and our hopes for tournament glory were over. I can crouch here in my chair, type in a bunch of shit to justify our lost, but we all know everything looks questionable on the sidelines and I hate sore losers just as much as I do cocky assholes. Nope, we were just another team that lost to the Hitmen, like a grain of sand on the never ending beach of defeat, mixed in with all the other grains that had to watch the Hitmen hang the flag on their station. What does it take to beat these guys? Practice and hard work, so the cliché says and seeing how many months we have till Vegas we should have plenty of time to prepare for our rematch.

We didn’t spend much time in the pits after that, packed up our shit, shook hands and left. I supposed that would be the last paintball themed entertainment until pro finals, which usually plays at the end of the day. For once we had a chance to cruise the beach and take in California-if only for a little while. I got shin deep in the Pacific Ocean, and watched a man pound a nail into his navel cavity. I saw another crazy man dance and a questionably sane man taunt him for doing so. We walked the pier, stared out into the ocean, as many tourists do, and take in the fresh air, salt and all. While I stood there listening to the waves crash into the columns that support the pier and the seagulls that pester all those who are trying to enjoy their moment, I was reminded of home. The little trips my friends and I took during summer breaks, stealing change out of our parent’s car the night before to buy bus tickets for the next day’s adventure. Twenty minutes after paying for our seat, we were bursting out that coach and crashing the shore, jumping the boardwalk to avoid the beach taggers and taking in the Atlantic surf hours at a time. Just me and my boys, raging havoc on the “shoobies”.

It didn’t take long for me to like California, in many ways it’s just like New Jersey, however I still found a clear distinction in the mood and behavior. Relaxed, just laid back. Thinking like a tourist helped comfort us after the lost and in a way re-focused our perspective on the success we achieved. We took off from the pier, starved and parched and found a burger joint on Main St. just off the sand. The building was a tiny structure and turquoise blue in the spots that weren’t covered in old surf stickers and contest posters. The entire place was maybe 30 square feet and sandwiched in between two massive corporate surf shops. I had imagined the beach rat that owns this shack gave a giant middle finger to both companies and told them to fuck off when they tried to buy his property, I loved that. The staff was represented by a cute cashier that was 5 feet four maybe, with sun dried blonde hair and a big rack. The food was fantastic and worth the cramped eating space. Don’t waste your time at an “In n Out”, drive another ten minutes up to the coast and find the blue shack with all the stickers and thank me later.

Enough time had passed and we returned back to the NPPL’s venue to watch Pro finals, and consequently watch myself get kicked out of the player pits. I couldn’t help myself to cheer in Nicky Cuba’s defeat, I know what it feels like to let down your whole team but at that moment the Philly fan inside of me decided to make its presence known. In the end Dynasty won, and the day was over. We left the beach but this time it was final, and headed back to the hotel.

Before you know it we were in a nice restaurant, believe it or not, enjoying the company of a pretty waitress and analyzing our micro brewed beers, looking like a normal group of guys out on the town but uh....that’s not us. We can’t keep the trashy and almost immature behavior, the behavior that makes this team unique and fun, from protruding though what ever veneer we had going for us sitting at that table. Before our food even came, we were already confronting coke freaks and telling cute waitress horrible pickup lines. Shortly after that we slinked back to a series of dark lit lingerie bars which filled the rest of our night with Jaeger, whiskey, meowing waitresses, turnpike shots, and vomit before we made it back to the hotel. Of course, wouldn’t ya know our next-door neighbors had beer and weed taking me even deeper into the night. I don’t know how I woke up this morning, but thank god for small miracles right?

I can see my flight is getting ready to board, and for once Andrew doesn’t have a phone to his ear. I guess we had a good start to our season, plenty of paintball left to play though and fans to win over. We are still aiming high, and don’t plan on falling short. Me personally, I just can’t wait for Vegas. To me right now Vegas means more then partying, acid, and hookers. To me Vegas represents another chance to redeem ourselves, hopefully the pastries in the desert won’t be as stale.
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