Club Anthem

With mere days before the blessed holiday of Thanksgiving upon us, I would like to tell all club members who happen to find themselves within the friendly confines of Millersville to remember their Subbuteo teams, lest some informal throwing down occurs.  After all, what could aid the digestion of massive amounts of meats, minced and other wise "unminced", but the soul soothing pastime that is Subbuteo.  Bearing this in mind, all new events will lead off with the singing of our club's anthem.  The  lyrics can be memorized, or for the less dedicated, I suppose some sort of hand bill can be produced.  Either way, I submit for your approval, The 1st & 4th Club Anthem.

(Sung to the tune of God Save the Queen)

God save the First and Fourth,

Best football teams on earth,

God save our club!

With teams like Pumanuke

Tim's victories are a fluke,

May Dirty Nacho never Puke!

God save 1st and 4th.

second verse

God grant me Black Hole Hands,

Like Neuer from Deutsch-ah-land,

One save; confirmed.

Tim Howard-ish resolute,

Scorekeeper on Absolute?

Return your Golden Boot.

Another save; confirmed!

Oh, and the President's Shield is now the Corinthians's Cup, but that's another blog topic all together.

Ah, it's been far too long,

BAMF

The Derby Day Derby

For those of you not paying attention, the interminable spring sabbatical between The First and the 4th is excruciating for those of us with a perfectly good Subbuteo pitch, free time, and an intense in-home rivalry. Hence, we had a tournament and invited no one (see below). And we also thought it would be amusing to stage a derby match on the very day of the Kentucky Derby--complete with themed costumes and beverages. 

Expressing his disdain for convention through haberdashery (as usual), Der Tyrant dons a big floppy hat as he takes a big floppy lead against the dapper (as usual) HBT. (Note: HBT's intense focus here is something of an anomaly, as he appears to have forgotten that his beverage was positioned directly behind him and not somewhere on the pitch.)

We played with a one-match, single-elimination format, very much unlike the complex, bracketed tournament that are so de rigueur within the club. (Because that's how JC/NJ rolls.) Seizing on my complete lack of attention to the pitch (or rather, my inordinate focus on my mint julep), Der Tyrant scored early--my hand closer to my glass than my goalie. Finding me distracted yet again, Der Tyrant got himself a brace before halftime. Bow-tie straightened, I came out in the second ready to make things right. Although I managed to pull one back, Der Tyrant's stingy defense and an expiring clock denied a dramatic draw. We shook hands reluctantly (the rival still smoldering) and watched some horses run around a big oval in a little over than two minutes.

And thus the first Derby Day Derby was in the books. Due to a lack of foresight with my work schedule, we will be denied a "triple crown" of tournaments. However, that does not excuse anyone from feasting on something coated in Old Bay this Saturday in honor of the Preakness. "Crab cakes and Subbuteo: that's what Maryland does!"

The Univitational.

Yeah, you know it. You wanted to be here. In the JC, where you can see New York City but don’t have to smell it. Where you can order paella for two and feed six. Where something happened that one time. Yeah, that place.

HBT and Der Tyrant, that’s me, officially opened the 2014 season here at The Danger Zone by not inviting all of you lantern-jawed yokels to a wonderful tournament. It was bright, beautiful day, perhaps, when the first tournament held in New Jersey kicked off. The new, battleship gray pitch proved to be a splendidly quick and perfect surface for sexy goals and stylish saves. You cannot imagine just how exciting the action was. Try it. Close your eyes. Smell the fresh baked cookies, feel the pleasant warmth from our gigantic, pre-wars radiators. Hear the gentle drag of the ball across the supple, billiard felt. Taste the magic of Jersey City oxygen, like licking Aphrodite’s neck, which tastes just like blue cotton candy for some reason. Lick it! Yep, a truly magical, once in a lifetime event. It was so … words fail me.

It was such a special event the we didn’t even invite the official 1^st & 4^th “Time” Keeper and she lives here. Like in this very apartment.

By the end of the tournament, a tournament so great it can never be repeated, HBT proved victorious. I decided to protest his victory, thus making it an official tournament according to our club bylaws.

Here are the deets:

Tournament winner: HBT
Der Tyrant’s Whip: Der Tyrant
Golden Boot: HBT
Black Hole Hands: HBT
President’s Cup: na

From Legacy to Legend…

… in one year. Yes, it’s true, the greatest of all Subbuteo legacy players of the 1^st & 4^th Club achieved the status of legend. Der Tyrant, who I know and really love, won two classics in the last, what, eight or nine months? Yes, two. And yes, he did have help from his inestimable teammates. And yes, he is writing in the third person. That’s just how impressive he/I have become. Just be glad he’s not using the royal “we”.

Anyway, yeah, I rule.

First there was the 4^th Tournament, held in the balmy conditions of the Schettler family carriage house on the wee hours of the night of the day of our nation’s birth, or something like that. Paired with Kaitlyn, previous winner of the mid-summer classic, the we rolled over our opponents like nobody’s bidness. Fingers were flying, goals were scored, saves were made. I think I drank eighteen Capri Sun packets just to keep my fluid level at normal for fear of dying of dehydration. The night passed in such a brutal haze that the only thing I recall, besides hoisting the most bedazzled of trophies over my head was when HBT, upon losing his last game, left the garage… taking the ball with him. Truly whip-ish behavior. But anyway, Kaitlyn and I kicked bootie.

Then there was the 1^st Tournament, held in the climate controlled basement of the Michael Rauenzahn Bio-dome of Cutting Edge Snack Products. Apparently, it was cold outside, but who could think of such things while the members of the 1^st & 4^th were launching fiery shots across the pitch? Not me, that’s for damn sure. I was too focused on bringing heroic victory to my fans and loyal supporters. At first, I was a tad bit worried as I was paired with Dutch. In previous tournaments, our team was a recipe for penultimate failure. We play like golden gods only lose to some other “team” in the final game. But like all good Disney movies involving chimps and ice skating, we used our underdog status… underchimp status, maybe?... to destroy the opposition in match after match. Again, the night passed so quickly that I can’t recall much. Though I do remember getting scored upon by Dirty Nacho at the end of one period on a totally bogus corner kick thing… which is why I don’t believe it actually happened. That hardly matters now. These days, I can rest my magnificent laurels, one on each trophy, in clouds of glory, the kind usually reserved for Greek heroes or celebrities who survive a lot of plastic surgery and end up on the cover of People showing off their new bikini body.

Trust me, when I arrive to defend my title this July, you’ll see all kinds of wonderful, tyrant-y bikini action. So much so you might be forced to wonder if it’s a bikini atoll.

I am a legend. Suck it, world.

The Greatest Tourney Ever ... that you won't be at

That's right. Unless you live in Jersey City, you won't make the field. Oh, go ahead, try to make it if you can ... but you won't, because you can't. So today, without you, we'll be playing the Inaugural Jersey City Mid-winter Unvitational. Snubbed by the Schettler clan, the Deckers (North) decided to have their own little tournament this weekend.

Der Tyrant and HBT will square off on their DIY smog-grey pitch, the first tournament to feature this iconic felt. They'll play not for a tournament purse, trophy, or even a cause--but bragging rights alone.

To save time, we've edited a past photo of the 1st & 4th Club to reflect the anticipated participants:

May the best man win! (There are only two after all ...)

Russell Brand: Honorary Club Member

Members of the 1st & 4th Club, allow me to introduce our newest (honorary) member: actor/comedian/author Russell Brand.

Considering he's witty, smart, and sexy (a dangerous combination to which all 1st 4th-ers aspire, but so few of us achieve), it's really a wonder that Russell Brand didn't receive this distinguished honour years ago. But it was only mere days ago that his passion for our beloved past-time came to light. For you see, Mr. Brand is indeed a brilliant dilettante, and yet among his myriad pursuits, Subbuteo remains close to his heart.

Whilst waxing poetic on the soon-to-be-beatified Sir Alex Ferguson, Mr. Brand let slip that Subbuteo was among his childhood hobbies:

I can just about remember [Ferguson's] appointment in the 80s; I would likely have enacted it through my voodoo Subbuteo rituals, which always had more peripheral theatricality than other boys'. Managers were not provided by the manufacturers so I'd outsource the role to Star Wars figures. They were as disposable and interchangeable as their human counterparts and often more discerning in the transfer market. [my italics]

So not only is Mr. Brand a rabid fan of his own football side (West Ham) and quick to lionize SAF, he's a former Subbuteo enthusiast who actually used Star Wars figurines on the sidelines--a proud tradition in our own club. We welcome you to that elite Club, Mr. Brand. You'll soon consider yourself lucky to have your celebrity associated with the many noble causes this Club endorses--which will then receive a notable boost due to your notoriety. (It's win-win!) So, consider yourself invited to our next tourney. And please feel free to bring along your gf (win-win-win!)

¡Cuarto feliz de Julio!

Since its founding, the 1st & 4th Subbuteo Club has used its notoriety prestige to champion various causes (the noblest among them being the discovery and extermination of cryptids, of course.) The Club shies from political movements (although every Joe Politco should fear the wrath of an enraged Subbuteo club--just wait 'til you see the strongly-worded letters hit your desk, Mr. Senator!), and instead rallies behind humanitarian causes that can be rather obscure. However, with our support, we raise incredible awareness of such causes, which to some is almost worth more than a financial contribution ... almost.

Now, with the 4th Tourney on the horizon, it's time to introduce what we're all playing for.

Subbuteo Goes South: an Argentine Adventure

For two weeks in April, I had the honor and privilege to serve as the ambassador of the 1st & 4th Subbuteo Club to the football-mad country of Argentina. In the course of my duties, I crossed the country--from its capital to the heights of the Andes--all while enduring pleasant weather, hearty portions of native food & drink, a bout of diarrhea, and the complete inability to understand a single word anyone said to me.

Sure, Argentina is more aware of Subbuteo now, but whether our sport will replace their passion and talent for soccer remains to be seen. When shall riots break out in the stands between Subbuteo-rabid fans? When will a finger-flicking equivalent of Messi arise to the delight of the Argentine masses? And when will Maradona--the Liliputian Legend--swagger down the Subbuteo sidelines?

Or will this be the beginning of a cultural exchange and soon we'll be playing a table-top version of polo (Argentina's second-favorite sport)? 

Until then, please enjoy some highlights from my diplomatic adventure. (The full album can be found on The Facebook.)

Art!

The budget didn't cover a room at the Sheraton, but the view was nice.

St. Michael: original cryptid hunter

Anyone up for a game of pick-up Malbec-grape Subbuteo?

Mt. Aconcagua: tallest point in the W. Hemisphere

Surveying the vines

Finally! Something at my scale!

Just hanging with some 300 million year old fossils.

A Chat with the Champ

HBT, a modest champion

The 2013 First Tournament, the inaugural event of the 1^st & 4^th Subbuteo Club season, featured a first-time champion, HBT. (If you were thinking Firewrists, then I suggest you go back to the beginning of this blog and review the archives.) Your correspondent caught up with the champ at an authentic New York coffee shop, Starbucks.

Mission: To Eliminate Gangnam Style (or To Get 100 Million Blog Views by Using It in This Title)

Last summer, during a pre-coital moment, my former lover pulled up a YouTube video that she said I must see. Though she summarized an erudite attempt to parse the video’s subtext she’d read in a literary journal somewhere, she insisted that I just watch it—experience it—first. Four minutes later, and I had become viewer 12, 220, 810. Yes, I had survived another "significant" pop-culture benchmark, but I couldn’t help wonder just what I had lost during those few incomprehensible—yet danceable—minutes.

Five months (and one billion views) later, we have come to the verge of a new year—and a choice: will we, the 1^st & 4^th Subbuteo Club, stand idly by as Gangnam Style preys upon another year, or will we do something about it?

2012: A Subbuteo Odyssey

the corner of 1st and 4th ... the nexus of the universe?

 In defiance of doomsayers and lazy Mayan mathematicians, Existence persisted beyond 12/21/12 allowing us not only to cherish the holiday season (aka an orgy of consumer consumption and gluttony) but also to reflect on the past year while preparing for the next. I’m sure your lives are all interesting in their own ways, but honestly I couldn’t care less about your lingering ass-muscle injuries or trip to Cali, your creepy mustache or artsy film project, your latest musical or dance recital, your athletic or scholastic achievements, or even your new book, new house, new girlfriend or boyfriend (expect, that is, if you have a girl/boyfriend). It’s not that I’m not impressed, but this isn’t the time or place. The place is a Christmas letter, and the time is never. We’re here to talk Subbuteo, dammit. And as we settle into a cold, dark winter we need its bright flame of hope more than ever.

Subbuteo, and the 1st & 4th Club especially, had an amazing year of foreign adventure, unprecedented champions, epic league play, and more awareness of more causes than we were even aware.

The 2012 Beach Shield for Aquatic Mammalian Prolapsed Blowhole Awareness League Results

Team Name	Wins	Losses	Draws	Total Points	Goal Differential
	8	1	1	25	+14
	6	2	2	20	+13
	6	2	2	20	+7
	3	5	2	11	-2
	1	7	2	5	-16
	1	8	1	4	-14

Awards

Golden Boot: Harrison 

Black Hole Hands: Tim

President's Cup: Tim

Der Tyrant’s Whip: Carter

Nice job 1st & 4th!  You, yet again, raised awareness for another aquatic animal charity.  After all, the true winners are the Aquatic Mammals.



 And now you can re-live the drama:

The Retirement Wars

How will the Padawans learn if there is no Jedi Master to teach them? If Obi-wan had left the moisture farmer to get his butt kicked by the sand people, how would Luke Skywalker have become the sniveling little wank, crying for his daddy on the Death Star? All the while teddy bears with spears overthrowing the entire Empire by defeating some stormtroopers on Endor? But I digress.


Chaos will erupt at the table. “So this is how it ends…the debate over whether to polish the bases of the subbuteo players…not with the clack of a fast moving player connecting with the ball for a goal but with muffled felt as a player comes up short?

I say we put an end to The Retirement Wars. Can I get a “CONFIRMED”?


And where is Subbuteo Man in the Club's hour of crisis?

Breaking News: Muncle Mark (BAMF) Retires (WTF)

a thing of the past?

New York - Sources indicate that President-for-Life Muncle Mark will retire from competition in the 1st & 4th Subbuteo Club. Since no official statement has been released by his office, this reporter will take the liberty to spin out a story based on hearsay and conjecture alone.

Camp Hill will be in the House!!!

Camp Hill will descend upon Millersville like locusts.  Its players will be there physically, metaphorically, perhaps metaphysically, but most definitely sacracstically.  Two of the Camp Hill Lions "Other Varsity" Team all-stars pictured above will be showing up to unleash the dogs of war.  The Blur will be unveiling his new team, which at the same time will bring back his old team that has slumbered these last 23 years.  The Blue and White will take to the green, once more!  This is all thanks to our gracioius President. (The one in the brick house not the White House).  Thank you, Mark.

For the second year in a row all four Legacies will be present for the 4th of July Tournament.  What are the odds that these four could find themselves teamed up this year and in the Championship Match?  If that happens, it will be the first time in 16 years that the four Legacies all met on the field at the same time to square off for the title.

I look to be in that title match and retain ownership of the 4th of July trophy. 

BRING IT, Hobo Baby!!!!!!!!

The Unknown "4th of July" Tourney.

Der Tyrant's Korner: 7-2-12

The 4th of July! And nobody’s posted nothing. You guys suck.

Therefore, due to your lack of enthusiasm for the sport, I officially decree myself as the Ultimate Champion of the impending tournament, regardless of what happens on the fiery pitches of the Millersville (America’s Sorrow) Randy "Macho Man" Savage Memorial Subbuteo Stadium/Garage Where the Lawn Mower Goes to Die. As we all know, style counts for more than mere skill or points when it comes to amateur Subbuteo. And I have style in spades.

That said, as I’ve already won this unadvertised, uncharityed, unawarenessed tournament, I might as well take a few moments to “dis” the other players in our club. You know, the ones who are too busy or irresponsible to support our collective bit of the blogosphere. I’m looking at you, Mr. President. A broken butt bone doesn’t hinder the ability to type. Or you, Subbuteo Man. Just because you traipse around the world to volcanic islands in the middle of nowhere, doesn’t mean you can ditch your bloggerly duties. And, in a few years, I’ll be able to bust on Dirty Nacho as well because he’ll finally be old enough to take it. That’s right, Mr. Vice President, start looking for cover.

But anyway, here are my predictions in the battle for The Bastards’ Cup: I will win. That’s easy. And I might even win the Black Hole Hands Award and reject the President’s Award for like the tenth time. The Blur will succumb to a psychosomatic foot condition and end up sitting in the mint plants along the side of the garage, which might increase his shooting average by 4 or 5%. Neither Dutch nor Fire Wrist will be a threat as the dull days of summer mean that both of them now require twenty-six hours of sleep per day in order to function. HBT will be working in the NYC not far from the JC doing GKW with people who just got off the A, C, E or maybe the B or D, depending on whether the MTA is working or just being a bunch of SOBs. So, HBT is out of the running. As I mentioned previously, there are reports that The President has a broken ass, injured either during a charity game of kickball or by acid, I don’t know really know which. Tea and Dirty Nacho are still too short to hoist a major trophy filled with licorice. Ave and E are too focused on their phones to bring real defense or that other thing, what is it, offense, to the game. As for The Guest Playa, it’s always a crap shoot as to whether he’ll be needed to play at all, though he might be needed if Peyton blows a knee or throws a shoe in the early events of the day.

The only true contenders for this particular tournament: Mary Beth, who is itching to school people on the pitch but might burn too much energy trying to school them on the wiffle ball field, and the deadly combo, if Old Navy polo shirts are the measure of how deadly things are, of Will Plank and his ever growing son, C Train. Being of the Ohio strain of Subbuteo playin’, God only knows what sort of shenanigans they will bring to the game. And there’s the outside chance that they will have to play against one another, negating their Red State swing votes. That happened last year, with disastrous results.

Really, the only player in our entire club who I fear is Hobo Baby because he has a knife. But what are the odds of him showing up? I mean, he’s a hobo. And a baby.

The Bastards’ Cup will be mine.

Meet the Players: Dana

Nickname: The Ringer

Team: Philadelphia Union

Zodiac: Sagittarius

Slogan: “Impossible is nothing.”

How did you begin playing Subbuteo?

I walked into Carter’s (Dutch’s) basement, and his whole family was already playing. I don’t even like soccer—but I guess I’m good at whatever this is.

Dana has proven to be a fearless defender and tournament champion … despite never having never played Subbuteo before. (Or so she claims.)

First Tourney Re-cap? Confirmed!

For those privileged few to have been in attendance, you and I know that First Tournament lived up to its Gastby-esque billing (although no one did a cannon-ball into the hot tub from the deck.) I would say that not much more needs to be said … but I guess for my reader’s sake I’ll summon the energy to summarize the events of that epic night.

Final Tournament Standings:

1)       Lover’s Spat (Dutch & Dana)

2)       Seier (Firewrists & Mary)

3)       Decker Duo (Kaitlyn & HBT)

4)       Nine-Mounth-Old Cod-Piece (Muncle Mark & Der Tyrant)

5)       Magic Flippers (Dirty Nacho & The Blur)

6)       Falco (E & Jen$in)

7)       Chavery (Travis & Avery)

8)       Spanish Samurai (Petyon & Têa)

Golden Boot: Dutch (16 goals)

Black Hole Hands: Tea & Travis (10 saves each)

President’s Cup: Decker Duo

Tourney MVP: Dana

Der Tryrant’s Whip: not awarded (due to lack of qualified candidates)

2011 Player of the Year (aka MVP): Hobo Baby

There? Get it? That’s what happened. Boom.

Wait, what’s that? A box score doesn’t suffice? You what? You want a full narrative article? With humorous anecdotes, gripping drama, and witty observations? And pictures? Well, I thought you’d never ask.

Der Tyrant's Corner 1.4.12

Well that’s Football. Er… Subbuteo. I realize that it’s the 3rd or 4th of January and that means I should be writing about who will win the 2012 MVP of the 1st & 4th Club but I figure I might as well waste a few KB on last year’s MVP. No, it wasn’t me, though I am by far the front runner for the 2012 MVP because I’m awesome.

But allow me to shine a light upon the 2011 MVP of the 1st & 4th Club.

Meet Hobo Baby.

Sure, I know what you’re thinking, how could Hobo Baby, bindle-laden and carrying the stink of an abandoned dog, become the MVP for an entire season if he just entered the Club on the very last day of the year? Simple, when people started talking about who should be the official MVP, what with 2011 being our most organized season to date which I guess prompted the discussion… I looked at Hobo Baby, who was sharing the bar with me at the Collegeville Subbuteo Palace’s watering hole, Life’s a Pitch, and said, “This guy, Hobo Baby, he’s the MVP.” Being Der Tyrant, my word is law. And that was that. Boom.

Of course, Hobo Baby was stunned into silence. Sure, his mad-knife wielding skilz are well renowned. And who hasn’t spent time in his lean-to down by the river’s edge, eating dry bricks of ramen and downing flat Tom Collins mix… But it takes more than just charm to be the MVP in this club. As proven by The President’s Cup and Der Tyrant’s Whip, the awards that matter most in the 1st & 4th Club are those earned by Moxie, Grit, Goink, and (especially in reference to the Whip) Unnecessary Penalties. To shine in this Subbuteo league, you have to be a star.

And stellar is Hobo Baby. In fact, that’s the word that best describes his personality, on and off the pitch… well off the pitch for sure… I don’t think Hobo Baby has ever played Subbuteo but whatever… But the words: stinky, orphaned, sock-headed, toothless wonder, lantern-jawed, pee pipe using and hobo also best describe him. After that, I don’t really know anything else about him other than the fact that he’s shorter than I am, which again, proves that I am destined to be the MVP in 2012.

Hobo Baby receives a laurel and hardy handshake for his accomplishments from The President.

I’m sure that we’re going to enjoy Hobo Baby’s company at future tournaments. Or maybe we won’t. He’s a hobo, after all. But one thing I do know, he’s got a knife.

The First of them All

The holiday season is rife with annual traditions. Onions get stuffed; presents are meticulously opened and cataloged; pajamas are worn for days; trees are brought indoors and decorated; crafts are crafted ad nauseam; seasonal movies and songs air continuously; gloves are exchanged for some reason; pounds of ham and cookies are consumed; alcoholism is not only tolerated but encouraged; and, most importantly, there is much Subbuteo played.  

This time of year is especially special for the 1^st & 4^th Club since it brackets the end of one season and the opening of the new with the classic First Tournament. Though inspired by the democratic and egalitarian spirit at the core of the Club, this tournament has become anything but. That’s right, this is a tourney for the elite, the upper crust, the “one percent,” if you will. As much as it is about winning a major championship and a baller trophy, First Tournament is also about the glitz and glamor of New Year’s Eve.

Essentially, it’s the Yin to the 4^th Tourney’s Yang (or Wang, if you mean the fish.) There’s no sweating on a humid summer night in a carriage house, while enduring hours of competition after a day of races, barbeques, and Wiffleball games; no Mothra-sized insects to swat away from the pitch; no trouble from the Po-Po (not to be confused with Pop-Pop, who is a benevolent patron of the Club); and no homemade, bath-tub booze for refreshment. Rather, with the deluxe accommodations at the Collegeville Subbuteo Palace, First Tournament is a celebration of elegance and class—displayed as much on the pitch as by the attendees of this gala event. Expect champagne and hot tubs, big-ass televisions and buffets, excess and revelry at its finest.   

In terms any student of American history would understand, First Tournament would receive Alexander Hamilton’s silk-gloved support, while Thomas Jefferson would feel more comfortable in the sweat-begrimed embrace of the 4^th Tournament, although neither would deign to actually participate. (Ben Franklin, on the other hand, would play to win.) Just as the Founders intended, there's one tournament for the People, and one for the Better People. Of course, all Club members are welcome to attend the First; however, not all will be receiving an embossed invitation. (Just kidding! But it seems like some of yours might have gotten lost in the mail.) Or if you’re a literary type, just imagine if Jay Gatsby threw a Subbuteo tournament. Yeah, it’s going to be almost as good as that.

But just how good? Well, let me toss out some questions and take a few guesses at what we might expect from our not-so-humble little tourney. 

1)       Will there be a veritable tsunami of goals, or will players again be paralyzed by high-stakes competition?

2)       Will Dutch regain his form on his home turf? Or will his brother Dirty Nacho, the heir-apparent, continue his hot streak and finally claim a tournament title?

3)       Will Firewrists shake off defeat in two consecutive tournament finals and rediscover his winning ways? Or will Muncle Mark claim a third title and extend a new Schettler Dynasty into 2012?

4)       Can Kaitlyn, after a Lazarus-like return from the dead, find her form after months off? Will she even find her team? The venue?

5)       Inspired by his new Cameroon water bottle, will HBT actually score a goal in competitive play, or will the collapse at the 4^th Tourney semifinals continue to haunt him in the new season?

6)       Will a Decker win a GD tournament? Are they so cursed that even being on Firewrists’ team will bring them no success? Or is Tea the Tiniest this lineage’s last great Subbuteo hope?

7)       With a bevy of female champions and participants this past season, will one (or two?!) lay claim to a First Tournament trophy?

8)       Can competitors eschew the many distractions of the CSP and focus on the tourney, or will they succumb to the siren-song of luxury?

9)       Will The Guest Playa or Chad be called on to compete? And if so, will either go on an unprecedented run to the finals, inspiring a hopeless and embattled nation just like Seabiscuit?

10) Will the President's Cup remain as controversial as ever, or will the awarding of Der Tyrant's Whip overshadow this once prestigious accolade?

11)   And perhaps most importantly of all, will the Elusive Naked Man be found and clothed? 

And if your name is on the A-list, be sure to bring your tux, your monocle or bling, your online date, and (of course) your game, fool!

T-Dexxx out!

Answers (feel free to comment with your own):

1)       Yes, over 60 goals will be scored. This works out to about 5 goals per player; however it is more likely that Firewrists will actually score the majority of these.

2)       Yes, and no. The brothers will meet in the final, but age and experience favor Dutch.

3)       Yes, and yes. This contradicts the answer to the previous question, but deal with it.

4)       Kaitlyn will be in attendance, however her form and team will remain missing.

5)       Confusing his water bottle for a flask, his tournament performance will again be impaired.

6)       Yes. No. Yes.

7)       Yes, but it won’t be who you expect.

8)       For some yes, for others no.

9)       Yes, but no—there’s only one Seabiscuit.

10)     Yes, but Der Tyrant will be a cruel arbiter of "success."

11)     No, he will remain nude and at-large.