Smash Bros

Mr. Rocktober wanted a thorough write-up of a video game tournament last weekend. Unfortunately, it was not the wildly interesting event he may have been hoping for. It was really casual and well-run. So instead, I will narrate the tale of one hapless dork present that evening.

Three people walked into the Smash Bros tournament venue. Two dudes, one girl. All three had man-purses (cool!) which contained their video game equipment. They were playing Pokemon on their 3DS while waiting for the tournament to begin. Not too unusual a sight, yet.

Once the tournament began is when one of them, "Joe", started to shine. He ripped off his purple hoodie to reveal a Smash Bros Comic-Con shirt. He was eager to tell people that, yes, he was at THE Comic-Con that had an early preview of the newest Smash Bros game. If his spiky anime-style hair did not set off alarms, this should have. But hey, maybe that was an exciting event for the guy. He didn't go too overboard. He wasn't on anybody's bad side so far.

Then his name got called for the tournament. His girlfriend was only there to watch him play. The other guy competed but was not noteworthy. Joe was a Little Mac player, one of several there. However, he stood out. Whenever he would get his power meter full, he would perform his KO Punch. If he hit it, he would yell out
"GOTCHA!"

OK. One time, it may have been exciting. Maybe it was the game-winning move the first time, I don't remember. But he did this around 10 more times. He probably had been doing this his whole Smash 4 life ("We've been playing the game for the last 6 hours" he said, seemingly a boast of his dedication to training). This was his trademark now.

I didn't even play him, but man. The last thing you want to hear after getting hit by that move is GOTCHA! Yeah, you got me, you clever guy! You hit the B button when you were near me! Saying GOTCHA! really endears you to everyone here!

At the time, no one said anything, but in my mind I had the pieces to the puzzle: Man-purse, peacocking a free handout t-shirt, GOTCHA!. I didn't like this doofus.

Unfortunately, someone must've GOTCHA'd him at some point because he took 4th place to no prize. His morning training session was for naught. I was relieved to hear after the event that I was not the only one that noticed his peculiar behavior.

He really wasn't that bad, but hey! GOTCHA!

Written Tribute to Larry Sanders

I started watching basketball the year that Larry Sanders was drafted. Looking back at that roster, it’s hard to believe that the Bucks were even 9^th in the conference. Keyon Dooling played meaningful minutes. I’d already decided to watch the Bucks and make them my team, which ended up being a rough time to hop on the creaking Bucks wagon. Sanders became a player of interest for me as he and I both arrived on the scene at the same time, albeit in a much different capacity. I hadn’t yet learned enough about the game to dissect a bad player, but I noticed that Sanders got very little play time, and when he did, he either shot long range 2 point shots that never went in or dropped the ball when passed to him around the basket. At the very least I knew enough to know that Sanders wasn’t very good. I wanted to make a connection between Larry and me, between our ventures and hopeful success, but I couldn’t. Despite the self-created connection I wished to make, I didn’t become attached. He wasn’t a lovable loser. He just struggled and it was hard to watch.

His second season shapes up to be mostly the same in my memory. The Bucks didn’t run a real center that year, working Drew Gooden to the bone at the 5. A lot of his time on the court resulted in flagrant fouls, earning him a reputation as a hothead. He seemed to hold the team back more than anything else. My opinion was entrenched against Larry, having without intention become emotionally invested in the Bucks without investing in any particular player. I called for his dismissal, although at the time I didn’t understand options like buyouts or anything like that. I believed that he sucked irrevocably, he was a bust and the team should have found a better player for that roster spot.

The next season was his pleasant turnaround. Larry finally came through and developed an NBA caliber skill, earning him the nickname LARRY SANDERS among bloggers and fans. It came late in that season, just in time to help the Bucks earn the right to get stomped by the Heat in 4 games, but that didn’t matter all that much to me. I had heard from Ted Davis that “the long arms of Larry are the law of the lane” and that was fun enough. He still got plenty of flagrant fouls and he might have been a net negative with his improving-but-still-bad offensive skills, but Larry, more than any other player in the league, again felt like the guy that I wanted to see be a leader and a star. The Bucks’ choice to sign him for big money to him lead me to believe that he was finding his way. It was silly for me to believe it, but with this found and substantiated investment, his success after such a period of not-success helped me feel that I might find success too, on my path in my own way.

I don’t need to rehash what all happened to Larry in 2013. I drafted him early on my first ever fantasy basketball team with confidence, but really, fuck fantasy sports. They don’t matter. People mocked him for problems, but I felt bad that so many people I read online or knew in my life turned on him. If someone started giving me millions of dollars, I’d probably party a bit too. Larry should have been more mature, sure. I know people who get shitfaced and do things they regret. I still do things that I regret. We’re just not on the same stage that Larry is, that all professional players are. Some might say that with limelight comes responsibility, but so help me I’m going to see Larry as a human being, not a role model, a piece on a game board, or whatever. I’ve never met Larry, probably never will, but through the course of watching him, then despising him, then embracing him, I was a fixture on the Sanders bandwagon. I greatly anticipated his return to this season, excited to see him help lead the Bucks out of the gutter into something more beautiful than it had been in the past few decades combined.

Now, Larry is gone from the team. Reports from Yahoo make it sound like he’s out of the league because he can’t quit smoking weed. I’m pretty sure that’s wrong, but even if that’s the case, marijuana should be legal. Even if the States haven’t caught up yet, the NBA should fix its’ shit. I’ve also been told rumors that he might have cancer. I certainly hope that’s not the case. I’ve had friends mock him, and I’ve jokingly said I’ll be holding a candlelight vigil, but I actually feel a little bad to be saying shit like that. With ridiculously little insight into his life, I find myself a fan of Larry Sanders the person. As talk of the buyout dragged on, I hoped against common sense that Larry would find his way back on the court. I selfishly want him to be covered and discussed so I can continue to chart his life and see his ups and downs compared to mine, rooting for him to improve as a player and grow as a person, validating my fandom to the world. Yet outside of a stray future follow-up, that some journalist might wonder what is going on with Larry and get in touch, he’s out of sight and out of mind.

I’ll hazard that the buyout is what’s best for Larry and leave it at that. I suspect that my affinity for the man will wane with him off the Bucks and out of sports chatter. My faith that he flourishes is fixed at this point though. Larry, know that you’ve got fans and we wish you the absolute best.