Mike Phelps I Am Not

By Nick McCann

Last night, I lost my game against a Game Crazy employee 0-7. He used the Packers, wore Packers flip-flops, a Farve jersey, and he had stupid spiked hair. He was gentle, so I didn’t make fun of the fact that he just lost his hero-one of the most overrated humans to the most overrated city in the world-earlier this month.

The tournament was single elimination, so I was done.

It is strange being in a situation where everyone is sizing each other up as if they are about to engage in an actual athletic competition. Sure, there is obvious skill involved, but it felt awkard to have people looking me up and down before my match as if they were evaluating my physical appearance to see if I was a threat. I guess that is natural. Serious gamers-in sense that they enjoy player strangers-are definitely not “my people”. It was cool to compete with a bunch of people watching over my shoulder, but I spent most of my time trying not to look stupid. The only two sports I have been able to feel completely comfortable playing in my life have been little league in my pre-teen years, and drunken basketball in my 20s. The rest of the time, I just try not to embarrass myself.

Everybody seemed to know the porcupine I was playing, so it was nice to hear his "boys" talk shit to him the entire game for not scoring enough on an unknown like me. I left with enough respect to hold my head high and he got to save face. We shook hands and didn't make eye contact...like you do.

Oh well, at least now I know who I am and who I am not. Thanks Madden…again.