12th November 2007
Hi all,
I've had a difficult time writing this thought this week, for just one reason. Basically, it's pretty hard to type when you've got both of your hands around your own throat.
My troublesome week began on Tuesday night, in a Squash court at Wishaw Sports Centre. Since our return to playing Squash my friend Stuart and I have played matches which have become increasingly tight and competitive. Last Tuesday was no exception.
Although I didn't feel as if I was playing very well, I still somehow managed to square the match at two games apiece. Against my own expectations I then took a slight edge in the final game, taking it to the point where I was 8-6 up and serving for the win. All I needed was one more point.
(Hmm, as a Palace fan I really should have known how it would turned out. After all, what was the name of the fanzine which first published something I wrote? Yep, One More Point.)
Now I realise that this will come as a shock to you, but I lost my next point on serve. And then lost another point, and another. Thanks to the strange way that Squash is scored that only levelled the scores (Really, who decided that winning points when you're not serving isn't worth anything? When I'm playing a backhand volley over my shoulder just to get a serve back I don't deserve anything if I win the point? That makes sense.). A combination of tiredness and an unwillingness to look back at the terms of defeat means that I don't remember exactly how I lost, or what the score was, but I did lose. Ugh. Sure, Stuart and I have fun, but we both play to win.
That isn't any different when you're playing a video game either. On Wednesday afternoon I got an invitation to go and visit my brother-in-law, and I was to come alone. He didn't want to see either his sister, or his niece. He had an empty house, so a night of NHL 2003 action lay ahead of us.
Now at this point I think I should point out the differences in playing any of the NHL games with my brother-in-law as opposed to playing with my best friend Neil Taylor. Firstly, there's no offsides. This makes a huge difference in the way you play the game (there's a reason why in the film "Swingers" that the derisory response to winning a cup with the Los Angeles Kings was "Yeah, against the computer with the offsides turned off."). Secondly, there's no penalties. That isn't the be-all and end-all, but for some strange reason I tend to play better when my team is short-handed. Maybe I just can't stand the injustice of it all? Thirdly my brother-in-law plays on the easiest level, which basically makes the goalies simple to beat and leads to a shoot-on-sight policy. It was the erratic nature of these goalies which led my friend Chris and I to frequently play games with no goalies.
Incidentally if you think my moaning on these subjects is petty then spare a thought for Neil. I must ranted on those same topics for about half-an-hour on the phone the following evening.
Of course it is one thing to remember all of that after the games, it would have been more helpful had I not done it mid-way though the first game of a seven game series with an irretrievable deficit on the board. Fortunately I adapted enough to level things up in game two, before losing game three. However I hit form in game four and five, meaning that I (as Ottawa, because my brother-in-law has to play the Eastern Conference play-offs, thus preventing me from being Anaheim) had a chance to clinch on home ice.
It all started well enough, as I held a two-goal lead going into the third period. Then I changed my game, seeking to keep possession rather than attacking. A two-goal lead became a one-goal lead. A one-goal lead became a tied score. A tied score became an overtime defeat. A lesson learned.
Onto game seven, I started well and went into the final period with a two-goal lead. Sound familiar. Bang, bang, and bang again. From 4-2 up to 5-4 down with less than a minute left. I needed a miracle. Against expectations, I got an equaliser. Overtime! Of course about thirty seconds in my brother-in-law beat one player, beat another and as I scrambled and button-bashed to try and get in a block he hit a shot past a useless easy level goalie. Pah!
After these two experiences I think you should know that I'm not in the kind of form that will allow me to end this thought particularly well.
(Umm, thanks for reading... and for the links to the Heimlich Manoeuvre.)
Have a good week!
Tony
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