I had a paintball tournament to play this weekend that just was, and it went bad - real bad. I don't think I've ever played a tournament this badly before. Ever. Why? Because I wasn't focused on the game, and my heart wasn't all there. Was thinking too much of how much I was going to be in debt, although the guy who's paying for everything isn't too stressed as to when I pay him back. And also hearing that there was going to be an alcoholic pill-popper on the team didn't make me feel any more confident, and also made me re-think the whole definition of our "PRO" team. I had an alcoholic play on my team before, and it was just irritating, really fucking irritating. Gah!
Anyway, I talked to a real Pro player from the states what he does when he's just out of it, and not having a great day, and what he had to say was pretty helpful.
Later in the evening I go to a birthday party to an old family friend of mine, and had a great time, just great time. Such a great time I was actually contemplating ignoring going to the Sunday games, which would of a) destroyed my "good" name on the team, b) pissed off my Lebanese captain who's would of de-armed me in the sense of removing my arms, c) but most importantly, let down my flatmate/comrade-in-arms. So, I end up calling a friend who lives close to me and also was out that night to see if they wanted to go home together, and she did. We shared a taxi, and I was in bed sometime between 02.30 and 03.00. Not to sure when I woke up, but I took my pillow with me when we left the flat so I could crash in the car. I didn't give my flatmate the whole run down on what happened the night (except that I had sort wished I was still out partying it up) before because I was too tired and too out of it to even talk. We pick up two more players, one of whom is the deputy captain (DC). I knew that my flatmate would tell them that I had been out, and when I had come home.
I wake up, and we had pulled up at the field, the car was empty except for me and my flatmate. I ask him what the DC thought of what I had done, and he told me he was pretty pissed about it. I smiled and didn't give two shits about it, because I'm not a complete dumb-shit as I can come off as sometimes. I get into the players pit and get changed and we all walk out on the field. The second we start talking tactics the DC tells everyone, extra loudly that I shouldn't play cause I'm, as he said, fucked (aka: pissed, trashed, shit-faced, off-my-tits, drunk, etc.) I laugh out loud and straight at him, because the tone he used, and the was he said it was very similiar to that of a 5 year old. He says I shouldn't give him any attitude and the main captain quickly tells us we should talk about it later in our own time. We then do our thing, and then have another team meeting 15 min later in the parking lot, and the DC THEN asks if I'm good to play. I then tell him that I only drank four beers and one Red Bull during the whole night, and just turn my back to him. He then pulls me aside to have our man to man talk. He doesn't apologize, and tries to blame it all on my flatmate. And says that I was hand-picked for this event. Which I was pretty surprised, because I never went to try out, and didn't know there were people in line to play for the team...but I could be totally out of it right?
He then tells the whole team this, that everyone was hand picked, and blah blah blah. We got a last minute substitute for the tourney, and the DC almost slit his wrist when he heard this, and now he's praising him. Now then, the speach he gave, I must admit, was pretty good. Sadly, I wasn't taking it the same way everyone else was. This guy is an actor and a manipulator, so he usually gets what he wants.
Now then, where did he go wrong? A half brained chimp could tell you straight away that it was when he said I was trashed in front of everyone. He most likely said it before I was even there, when he got to the pit first. He doesn't have the slightest clue of managing people and handling them within a group. Jesus, that pissed me off so much. I pretty much didn't want to play for the rest of the day after he pulled that crap.
Did I mess up? Yes and No, Yes because I didn't get all the rest I needed, No because I thought about the team while I was drinking and decided to keep it to a low. Either which way, the politics of paintball is the one thing that can make me quit playing. Instead I took the hate towards him, and tried to channel it my game, did it help? A bit, along with some good'ole music by Dance Gavin Dance. How did I perform on Sunday? Better than Saturday ten-fold, but not good enough.
Now, then, my flatmate knew that I had work later in the evening, and that I had to get home to prep for it. When we knew we were going to make it to the finals, he tells the DC that we'll be heading out in 10 minutes, the DC tells him he would find his own way home. At this point I don't understand what happened. My flatmate then tells me he wants to watch another game. Long story short, we left about 1.5hrs later, when the DC was ready to go and I had bitched to him. How much did that fuck me off? Quite a bit.
I went to work, and came home calm.
Before I left though, my humour was set to harmful levels of sarcasm. Which means everything I say isn't meant to be funny for anyone except for me, and it has a hundred percent success rate of pissing off people in my closes vacinity. With me pulling this stunt, I upset my flatmate, but he knew pretty well as to why I was like this.
SO, to conclude all of this: I can't be fucked to deal with people like this at all. I was really hoping that the word Pro here would hold some sort of truth, but my guess that paintball was the same as in Sweden was true. Politics will be everywhere, it's human nature...or maybe just human stooPiditeE. Splitting hairs maybe, eh?
And yeah, also, getting a bit bored of Sydney, so I might be leaving and exploring the rest of the country and see if I can fall onto work like I did in TAS.
Bah...I'll keep you guys posted as to what's going to happen.
PS. I let someone take photos with my camera, but they came out all blurry, and I asked them if they even knew how to use my camera, and they claimed "of course, I do". A few days later, I find out they don't have the slightest fucking clue. I hate pride, it can make you look like a tard.
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