Moves Like Jaeger
The sun rose much earlier than I had hoped, despite my eager
anticipation of not just my first Madison Tecmo Tournament, but my first Tecmo
tournament altogether. Just like the waterboy getting tossed a set of pads and
a jersey, I was ready for my big shot. But first I’d have to cure my wicked
hangover. I showered and dressed myself in the day’s garb, a somewhat oversized
Jeff Jaeger jersey. Though not the best kicker amongst the wickedly over-talented
AFC West special teams, he was near and dear to my heart since my first time
completing a season on only Jeff Jaeger field goals.
The waffles at continental breakfast didn’t go down so
easily, but the Samoa cookies I packed with me had some sort of mystical powers in them that led me to wonder what sort of testing Girl Scouts performed to find this delightful cure-all.
Unfortunately, my mouth was still as dry as the hookers Ryan tried to pick up
the night before, and so if you saw me at all that morning you may have noticed
my multiple glasses of ice water that I kept ordering over beer, much to the bar staff's clear dismay. Had I known
this was going to anger the Tecmo gods, I may have tried to sneak in my free
Rolling Rock earlier in the day; however my mind was only focused on making
sure my throat didn’t close up before my first Tecmo game.
Walking into Logan’s Madtown, I suddenly had this feeling similar to what I
assume Charlie Bucket felt when Willy Wonka opened the candy factory door. TVs
around the entire perimeter, all glowing blue or green depending on the stage
of each Tecmo practice game. A rectangular bar in the middle handing out tall
mugs of beer at 9:30 in the A.M. Everything I imagined it would be, but amped
up to the tenth degree. I spent much of the morning describing my choice of
jersey and, along with Ryan in his more contemporary Darren McFadden jersey,
trying to convince people we weren’t really
Raiders fans. Soon enough I was introducing myself to my pool, Group T.
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| 20 years later, not much has changed |
Consisting of myself, my Raiders teammate Bo Jackson, Steve
DeBerg, and an unassuming character named Matt, I had high hopes that my nerves
and excitement would at least get me the 2 wins I’d need to pass through to a
play-in game. Mr. DeBerg, as I’d come to learn, now lived in Washington D.C. and
liked to drink PBRs. He was on his third one by the time we’d start our first
game, following a convincing win by that Matt dude over Bo Jackson. I picked
the match-up: Cowboys and Rams. He, perhaps feeling a bit emboldened by his
most recent tall boy (or silo, depending on your alcohol-consuming region), chose Jim Everett’s boys.
It was a see-saw affair between Cleveland Gary’s running and
Michael Irvin leaping to pull in Aikman’s overthrows. Despite being impugned
for ‘JJing’, something I thought for the longest time was a term of endearment for the leaping exploits of
JJ ‘Beast-of’ Birden, I fought on to force an overtime where, after winning the
toss, I put all my eggs in one Aikman-sized lob that found Jay Novaceck in the
end zone. Still shaking with the excitement of my first win in competitive Tecmo,
I approached the score-keeper’s table and announced my stats, hoping it wouldn’t
be my last visit.
Humble Pie for Two, Please
Unfortunately, it would come to be my last meeting with that
fine young fellow. I made it through one game before committing my first ‘n00b’
error of the day, calling a Seahawks-Colts matchup against a complete unknown.
This Matt dude, who I’d watched handle Bo Jackson quite capably, smiled and
chose the Seahawks, leaving me with the Colts and somewhat of a self-fulfilled
prophecy after what I’d tweeted the night before.
It wasn’t three minutes into the game before Dave Krieg
trampled over my defense for his first score, and then scooped up Clarence ‘Butterfingers’
Verdin’s kickoff fumble to go up by 14 points. The rest of the contest was more
of the same, and if I said that hearing mutters of wagering going on behind me
wasn’t a factor, I’d be lying more than Jack Trudeau was when he said he wasn’t
afraid of Cortez Kennedy’s smoking nostrils. With nothing left to lose, I made the
unconventional move of subbing in Jeff George despite an unsynchronized chorus
of boos behind me. He led the only scoring drive of the day, a small victory in
an otherwise humiliating 42-7 defeat to this Matt dude.
When Steve Deberg laid down for Bo Jackson in the next
match-up, I was all but out, needing to win big to even get a shot at a
play-in. Bo called the popular Bills-Giants match-up, in which I called the
Giants in the hopes of taking advantage of an overrated Buffalo secondary. But
once again I’d learn that, strangely, humans don’t always do the same thing as
the computer, and Phil Simms couldn’t find an open receiver all day. Meanwhile,
as I was getting Thurminated, I was watching my hopes at a surprise entry into
the field of 64 disappear faster than a tray of sandwiches in front of Bill
Parcells. It was a heartbreaking loss, but one that I’d use to make myself a
better competitor in the future. Also, it was good motivation for that first
beer of the morning.
Ryan’s group started shortly after, and it wasn’t long
before he was looking at a plate of his own ass. Losing first to the Packers
35-3, he then went on to face a fine young fellow that I particularly wouldn’t have wanted to
meet on the desolate streets of Madison the night before. Muscle-bound with
short-cropped hair and beard and going by the name of ‘Regulator088’, this guy
handled Ryan’s Cowboys with ease, winning his second shut-out of the day.
Needless to say, we were glad that the bathroom was relatively close to where
the television was. Knowing that he was brothers to that Matt dude in my group,
I was suddenly aware that these guys came to play. He finished the day solidly
beating the only other competitive guy in the group by holding him to just 3
points and winding up with the 1-seed in his region.
I can’t go without mentioning Ryan’s final game in the group.
A meaningless affair of two 0-2 guys, they decided to go all out with the
Oilers-49ers matchup. Perhaps a bit dejected from his two losses, Ryan appeared
to have packed it in despite all the weapons at his disposal. Before long, I
was watching him enter the fourth quarter down 21-3, ready to give him a ride
to grab his belongings that his wife was inevitably going to leave packed at
the curb. Then, there was a Montana-Taylor connection that led to his first
touchdown of the day. Still down 21-10, it wasn’t really anything to get overly
excited about, but when he put a stop to Moon’s scurrying on three straight
downs to get the ball back, the tension was starting to mount.
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| Ryan in the midst of his Frank Reich-style comeback |
Another quick score put him within striking distance at
21-17 and just over a minute left. While the onside kick attempt was predicted by
everyone within 5 miles of Logan’s, not a single one of them thought it
would actually work. But it did. And in the time that remained, Ryan drove his
Niners down the field like he’d been doing it all day for the go-ahead score.
The small crowd in attendance showed their appreciation for a rather exciting
game in spite of the circumstances, and soon Ryan and I were off to toast our
single wins and ready ourselves for what was sure to be an entertaining
afternoon.
TOMORROW: THE FINAL CHAPTER...
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