Der Tyrant's Corner... July 9th, 2011

Die Tim means "The Tim" in German.

“JC boys delight record attendance at 4^th tournament by nearly winning semi-finals in most dramatic fashion."

There’s nothing like a 25 minute Subbuteo match between determined opponents to stir the patriotic blood on a date chosen by politicians to celebrate major savings at most corporate retail establishments. But I’m getting ahead of myself… Let me tell you about the perfect moment at the 4th of July Classic in America's Sorrow. Slacker Genius… PM Track… Each team showed incredible poise during the tournament, PM Track smashing opponents by greedily scoring on them, while the noble Slacker Genius crushed the will of their opponents with defensive skill which can only be described as surgical. There was a hum in the air as the semi final game between Slacker Genius and PM Track began. At the end of regulation play they were surrounded by handfuls of fans and they were tied, something to something. I mean, it was so long ago who can remember the details… And then they were still tied after a 5 minute overtime. And they remained tied after some sort of HORSE-basketball-style goal scoring competition. Slacker Genius finally sucked it up during the PKs and lost.

With that loss, the tremendous drama that had grown through out the day, nay, since the 1^st of January was released. It was a watershed moment in sports that one had to be there to truly understand. Like the Giants winning the pennant, Lebron losing the championship or the General leading his team to victory in parkour; it was a moment that will live forever in the hearts and minds of this grateful nation.

And apparently there was another game after that… I guess that somebody won.”

--Oliver Plunkett, The New World Time Sports Illustrated Semi-annual, July 7th, 2011

See, isn’t that a lovely article? I barely have anything to add. I guess the only thing I have to say, other than ruing the fact that a Decker still has not won a 1^st & 4^th championship and I know that all eyes are on me to reach that acclaimed position... is that my new “moving dudes on the pitch” offense still needs work. As I mentioned in previous posts, my “no touch” offense is so brilliant that combined with my indomitable black hole hand defense, I would win every game ever played. Being a fair minded tyrant, I used my well inked finger to “bring” a “traditional” offense to the game and my team suffered for it. I must apologize to HBT for not scoring enough goals to shut the Schettlers out of their own tournament championship game. And I will state for the record, pounding a shoe on my laptop for emphasis, I will bury you!

Kitfoa with love,

Der Tyrant

After thoughts:

Will The Thrill did not go home crying and did, in fact, score a goal or two. He even scored a goal on his son, C-Train, which will, no doubt, lead to a serious father and son confrontation at some point in the future, just like Luke and Vader. I’m putting my money on C-Train.

Props for C-Train showing up and playing the full tournament like a champ, despite barely being able to reach the middle of the pitch and staying awake many hours after his bedtime. And with 3 saves to his credit, I foresee a future Black Hole Hands award in the future… you know, once he overcomes the temptations of the Dark Side and cuts off his father’s hand. Props to E and her excellent coaching skilz. Certainly they were the rightful, lawful winners of the President’s Cup and bring a sense of honor to the title (unlike the Mark and HBT losing "partnership" that brought the President’s Cup into existence).

And obviously, we must wait with bated breath for Mark the President to get back from his trip to The Great White North and set the record straight that The Crew did indeed win the President’s Cup during the 4^th Tournament. Sorry, The Blur, but even your most verbose ‘roid rage will not get you the laurels that you do not deserve. Champion, yes, President’s Cup winner, no. If you need me to, I’ll make you a shirt that says you didn’t win the President’s Cup so you can have a constant reminder of that fact.

Suck that.

Bastards’ Cup Co-Champion Bites Back

It’s easy to talk smack when you go down in flames in the tournament -- after all, you've got plenty of company, but don’t go hating the real winners. Sure, The Presidents’ Cup is controversial, and I won’t begrudge Kid Davies for his deft, if not unorthodox, handiwork on the green, but remember “first and foremost” it was the Miami Streetwalkers who were named the "Presidents’ Cup" before the tournament started. You want to take it back after the fact – do what you will (in name only), Indian givers, but we were already branded and as such took not just a second cup when we won the "Bastards’ Cup", but a third “The Ascendants’ Cup” for the hat trick and I’ll be damned if I’m going to give any of them back, so in the immortal words of your Jersey Shore partner “Suck it!” all you tramp stamp wearing haters! Kid Davies, you’re a welcome addition to the Club and I’d go so far to back your title of El Presidente, as I remember Der Tyrant proclaimed you that night post tournament. As for the rest, talk all the smack you want, but we’re the ones holding the trophy. For the propaganda film posing the question “What can’t I do?” – the answer: “Win”. As for all the interval training, name calling, ball obstructing, hair on the table citing, J Crew wearing, Gatorade swilling, jean jacket bedazzling, Parkour watching, hair braiding, Bastards’ Cup wannabe’s, go have yourself a good cry in the corner and save your lip for Wednesday night Bingo at the senior citizens’ center. You wanna run with the big boys, then put up or shut up. Shut up. We’re done here.

“The Blur”

Who won what, where, when, and why.

Exhibit A: "The Crew" stifles the hapless HBT
Okay, sure. No one can deny that Mark the Pres and The Blur street-walked away with the Bastard's Cup—they won. But (but!), does that make them the best team?

No, just the winning team. And if there's anyone who would admit there's more to a subbuteo team than winning, first and foremost (get it?) would be Mark the Pres—whom I believe even created a cup in celebration of this fact. Yes, the President's Cup is a controversial subject around the ol' club house—but its winner at the 4th Tourney is not to be disputed.

After the drawing, "The Miami Streetwalkers" were certainly the presumptive winners of both cups. But after the tournament, they'd only garnered a single one (that is, the bedazzled cup filled with licorice.) In his victory-soaked revelry (or maybe just his sweat-begrimed exhaustion), Mark the Pres, in a rare display of benevolence, decreed that the winner of the President’s Cup was "The Crew"—the embattled partnership of E and young Calvin Plank, Esq. And I believe if one were to access the official tournament score sheet from the Club archives, one would see clearly written (in the authoritative hand of Dutch, the Club Manager) that very same result. Although their winsome ways produced no wins, the endearing pair—with their precocious play and indefatigable esprit de corps—embodied the true meaning of “team,” and they deservedly earned not only the President’s cup, but a place in our hearts.

“Ascend” where you will, but Club rules disallow any “double-fisting” of cups.

--T-Dexxx

1st and 4th Club Crowns First "Ascendants' Cup" Winners

Competition was stiff this year as teams were drawn per the standard lottery provisions of the codified by-laws. In keeping with all the legalese involved, Will "The Thrill" Davies returned to Lancaster County for his first game of subbuteo there in 15 years. His son Calvin assisted Mark in keeping the lottery above board -- even when Vader's helmet split into three pieces and dumped the names across the floor of the garage / game central.

Mark -- quite possibly the most elite of players in the club if not the world -- would find himself saddled with The Blur, whom street cred and enigmatic ID photo not withstanding, is far from one of the top 5 in the club. Reunited, Behemoth Junk would reinvent itself as the Miami Streetwalkers. Mark, the talent, would dish out the damage on offense and razzle-dazzle the crowds with his ball control and shooting skills. The Blur's game plan going into the partnership: "Don't mess up". For him quicksand is one scary Motha'-Flicker. All in all, he kept it together even when he botched shots and opened up a never ending corner kick scenario after time had run out at the first half of the final game against Firewrists and the ringer he brought in to partner with -- how convenient that worked out for him, don't you think?

(the line-up)

Firewrists & Co. would find themselves in overtime penalty shots for both the semi-final round and the final round for all the licorice contained within the highly coveted and often controversial "Bastards' Cup". In truly epic fashion, the game came down to father and son squaring off, but the young padawan would learn a harsh lesson that evening as Mark demonstrated in modest fashion that you don't have to have a flashy nickname to be the Master of the Game.

Dubbed the "President's Cup" team after all the lots were drawn and before the tournament began that 8 o'clock hour on July 3rd, the Miami Streetwalkers would do what no team has done before -- shove that title down the throats of their opponents. Holding that title and winning the tournament to claim the "Bastard's Cup" earned them the honor of becoming the "Ascendants' Cup".

When asked about the win, The Blur commented on how surreal winning felt. He attributes the team's success to the leadership and tutelage of Mark. "A few months back he gave me some pointers on how to improve my ball control and shooting ability. I took it to heart and trained and trained. His knowledge of the game is staggering. And when I'd mess up in the tournament...especially in the championship game, he'd play it off like it was nothing, give me a wink (but not a wink like they do in Twilight), and get us right back into the game, which helped me keep a positive attitude and stay focused."

At 12:45 AM on July 4th, the champions were crowned. To borrow an out of context direct quote from approximately that moment, Mark said, "As it should be."

Here are a few photos of pivotal moments in the tournament that show just how the range of emotions and pressures felt by the field of participants.

"The Tension"

"The Horror!"

"The Thrill"

"The Spill"

Ask Professor Plaga

I know what you’re thinking. Why doesn’t someone on the Internet advance the supreme sport of Subbuteo via a questions and answers format with the need to neither wax metaphoric nor include cutesy cat videos? Well, 1st and 4^th Club aficionados rejoice! Finally there is an expert willing to step into the breach. With a keen interest in advancing the sport of Subbuteo, coupled with an overwhelmingly full head of needless knowledge, Professor Plaga’s ready to oblige all questions, various and sundry.

In order to protect our reader’s privacy (also, and more importantly, upon the strong advice of 1^st and 4^th legal counsel, William Plank Esq.), pseudonyms have been used.

Our first question is from Der “Pyrant” of Jersey City, NJ: Professor Plaga, is it wise to move defensive players? In past competitions, no matter how infrequently I’ve moved, or how many articles of clothing I’ve removed, I just can’t seem to “get over the hump.” Help me Professor Plaga, you’re my only hope.

Professor Plaga: To answer your question, no.

The second question is also from a reader in Jersey City. Hot Baby “Jommy” asks: Professor Plaga, is it possible for a superior team, such as Hordest Sandwich, to not win a tournament, regardless of its accumulated talent level, exponential advantage or overall knowledge of Subbuteo? Additionally, should that team win a cup?

P.P: Yes and yes!

A last query is submitted from a reader in Collegeville, PA. “Dirty Macho” posed: Professor Plaga, could an amendment to the 1^st and 4^th Club’s Constitution be put forth to allow the eating of cheese puffs during play? I’ll promise to keep all crumbs and orange powder off of the playing surface. Also, I’ll need only occasional reminders that it’s my turn to play. I will not commit, however, to getting in the way of competitions, which do not include me.

P.P.: No!!!

Der Tyrant's Corner... June '11

Time to weigh in on the coming carnage. As usual, I predict that I will stand triumphant, holding aloft the soon to be unveiled 4^th of July Tournament trophy, also known as The _______. Ha! You thought you could trick me into giving that surprise away but I’m far too crafty for that nonsense. Der Tyrant is a master of subterfuge.

There’s been a lot of talk about how some of our members train and practice, as if such things mattered for the mastery of Subbuteo. The Jedi of this sport know that very little of what happens on the pitch takes place between the finger and the ball. Subbuteo is an intellectual pursuit of the highest order. That’s why I have spent the last month abstaining from all things Subbuteo and have planned my “no move” defense to the nth degree. In fact, I’m so confident in my ability to dominate the game, that I’m almost willing to bring my “no move” offense to America’s Sorrow as well. However, since it is widely known that were I to show up with my Bayern Munich team and play the fourteen minutes of each game not touching a single one of my players, I would so crush the opposing teams that my competitors would never recover and I would be crowned the 1^st & 4^th Club Champion for Life Ad Infinitum.

So, I’m going to make it easy on all of you, who make this game so difficult, what with your flicking of players and dodging around the table. From this point on, I will be known as Der Tyrant, 1^st & 4^th Club Champion for Life Ad Infinitum. Of course, you can still refer to me as Der Tyrant, as protocol dictates, but I will handicap myself (don’t tell Pop-pop) and will play this and all coming tournaments with my black holy hands. Feel free to be in awe of my skilz, I know I am.

As for any other predictions:

Will The Thrill Davies is threatening to attend this year’s event. We all know that Will lives in Ohio, so be prepared to swap signed jerseys and Subbuteo balls for gifts, cash and tattoos. That said, I had a dream in which The Fates told me, “No goals, no saves for The Thrill”. I fear he will leave crying.

As for The Blur, only time will tell if that shank of the One True Cross that jabbed into his leg a year ago will gave him super powers or will just cause him to limp up and down the pitch. If he can stay healthy and get on Dutch’s or Fire Wrist’s team, he could be a threat.

The rest of the rabble should play up to the usual level of our organization and I will accept nothing less than greatness or, at least serious showmanship, in that God awful hot garage in M’Ville in four days hence.

And as Dirty Nacho is wont to say, “You suck!”

Der Tyrant.

The Wang Fish Cometh.

This coming weekend, on July 3^rd, the 1^st & 4^th Club will hold the classic tournament for the 4^th of July. Although the holiday commemorates the founding of our floundering nation, the tournament will honor the greatest living terror in the Amazon River, the candiru, (Vandellia cirrhosa), a.k.a The Wang Fish. Though this fish has yet to invade the waterways of the Keystone State, give it time. The Wang Fish has plans within plans. Thus we need to raise awareness and support for this much maligned warrior of brown water. And sometimes yellow water. How else do expect to keep the native red-neck population in check or keep them from pissin’ in our crick? I mean, really, Pennsylvania has enough acid rain problems. It's time to go green with a vengeance. While the 1^st & 4^th Club supports and funds the destruction of cryptids, we extend all our material and spiritual support for the conservation of such a plucky fish. So, come out and flick your hardest… and remember to pee on dry land.

The Blur: Ghost Protocol

For the last year The Blur has gone underground, surfacing only once for the purpose of reconnaissance. In an attempt to develop new and more effective strategies and skills, The Blur decided it was necessary to go Ghost -- to become invisible, to go unseen so that spies could not capture his play on tape and sell it to the highest bidder (likely one of his overly cocky rivals that feel they have nothing to fear from the man who puts more stock in playing to have fun than winning the trophy) so they could study his moves and try to find a weakness. The Blur enacted what has been dubbed the Ghost Protocol nearly a year ago after being impaled and losing the functionality of his right leg. Since then he has spent every waking moment (that he isn't obsessing over a slender beauty from Hanover that's way outside of his league) training, flicking, visualizing shots. At work, he spends his lunches doing wind sprints from one side of the lunch table to the other in the break room. Before every evening practice, he gives a motivational speech to his players. Sure, he's nuts, but he's due. This could be the year that Behemoth Junk reunites to take down FireWrists. Or perhaps he'll team with fellow band mate der Tyrant and Oxford Genius will school the youth on the ways of patience and whimsy.

Rumors Abound: S.O.S. To Reunite

Is it TRUE? Former S.O.S. band mates The Thrill (Will Davies) and Der Tyrant (Tim Decker) to reunite in a bid to take down what they charitably refer to as their "competition" July 3rd at the next 1st and 4th Club tournament?

"We're bringing experience to the table, baby! Those young punks won't even see the shot -- just the ball in the back of the net," Davies boasts.

"They're all SUCKA'S!!!" adds der Tyrant. "Flick Off!!!!"


Who said 'sportsmanship's dead'?

1st & 4th T-shirts…

Yeah, don’t get your hopes too high. Here’s the deal:

Bring a light color, 100% cotton (or close to it) shirt to America’s Sorrow (Millersville) for the weekend of July 4^th and you can get a rather fetching 1^st & 4^th spray painted on it. What can we say, the 1^st & 4^th Subbuteo Club is nothing if not profoundly DIY. And of course, you can feel free to then attack your shirt with markers, patches, stencils. be-dazzle crap and what-not after the paint dries. It’s not like I live with you and have to do your laundry.

Der Tyrant