The tournament. Gametime. All fighters assemble, and assemble they did. They came out of nowhere, which wouldn’t matter normally. But these were pro’s. All of them. Well, maybe not all, but a lot. Half of em were people I already played, most of them bad, and the other half were pros. Round one turned up, and I fell. Not even a little bit, but I fell hard. This guy had the package: Arcade stick, special attacks, and patience. Patience that I don’t have. I don’t have time to look at your attack, I’m busy doing mine.
Loser bracket it is. Alex on the other hand had a no-show, so he made it one round further. Not that it mattered much, because he died horribly the next. As it turned out, Alex losing meant that he would have to fight me. And so we did. We fought like we always did. Alex/Ryu vs. Me/Ken.
Although Alex fought hard, he died the same, so Next round in the losers bracket it is! And this challenger had been decided in an match between my unnamed new rival, and an unknown with one of those arcade sticks. He fought valiantly, but in vain. Arcade stick guy won. Meaning my hope of facing my new rival in a match was crushed horribly by a tile sized plastic box with a stick and buttons on it! Those damn pros stealing all my fun!
Though it would have been great to face him off officially, it didn’t happen. But I can feel better with the idea of us training together last night and this morning. The training where I came out the better man for most of the time.
Now I would love to end with the gigantic climax of me getting to the final 8, but I can’t. The sticks beat the noobs fair and square. Now I sit here with my sore thumb. Defeated, but not crushed. If there is one thing Dutch people love to do, is root for their countrymen. Considering there are 2 Dutch guys still competing gives me a good feeling. The final 8 will fight on stage this Saturday, and I will root for my countrymen. They deserve the spot, and the money!