Kansas City

Just a few hours until we fly to Kansas City MO to do or die for our season. We started this year strong, with a win and a 2nd place finish, and tanked hard in our third tournament in Boston. From the way we practiced between our second and third events, we had it coming. For the last month and a half we've been struggling to get it together again and rediscover the drive and intensity we had at the beginning of the year. To tell the truth the lead-up to this one has been a goddam mess. Every week is a fight to get a good practice together, to get enough guys to drill or scrim, to find paint for everybody, and to find money for all of this. Three days before the tournament we still didn't have a full seven to bring to Kansas City, and were asking ourselves what happens if we actually have to go with five or six. Devin wins quote of the day with his response: "Fuck it, we go in brawling. That's what we do."
Despite all the confusion and logistical trouble, I'm cranked up for this event. We have a strong squad and a pretty decent draw, and we're hungry to come back from the wreck in Boston and shoot some people.

I've tried a couple times to write about the chunk of life devoted to paintball, but each time I end up sounding like I'm biting hard on Matty Marshall in "Sunday Drivers." So, here's Matty Marshall in "Sunday Drivers." I've got some stuff to pack and a flight to catch.

"It happens on a random Monday, coming back from an event, or late on a Sunday night, right before you get on the plane and you're about to be frisked for the third time. You're driving, you're flying, you're sitting in an airport seat with boys from the team. You're drinking stale coffee trying to stay awake. You're explaining the fat welt on the side of your neck to a confused stranger or a best friend. You're coming back to the other life, the one without paintball, where no one understands why you do it. You're tired, you're working off little sleep, and the question creeps up and you try to ignore it "Why do I do this? Why the travel, why the losses, the missed work, the missed school, hours of practice and the complaining girlfriend?" Because the lure of living a paintball life is just too potent, and the products of the road, the travel, are memories forever in trips and strange lands with stranger people. At tournaments, it feels like, for once, you actually get to live as loud as you want. It's worth the sacrifices, its worth all the bullshit, because if you work hard enough, a Sunday will roll around, and you'll be in the huddle, screaming, with your hand in, one among ten, playing for the world title, and suddenly all those cliches that you ever heard make sense, and you, are defined. You say it to yourself, and it means everything "I am a paintball player, and this moment, right here, is my life."