The Scrabble Team League Weekend 2010
7th March is my nameday. Hopefully I ain't gonna get a kick in the ass at the tourn for a present.
I had made a deal with my cousin again to stay overnight, but he had to cancel the promise as he found out he'd have to leave for Hradec the very weekend. So I contacted my dear friend Dominika who said I could stay overnight in her place.
The team league weekend was meant to join together the 2nd and 3rd part of the team league 2010. Which sure had an advantage for many of us, consisting in "not having to worry about coming one more time" but, on the other hand, if someone was going to be persecuted by bad luck, it was plausible the prosecution would go on on Sunday too.
My dear friend Katka Rusá was so nice that she drew and emailed me a map of the way from the main station to the Tyrš House. I took it along. Pavel Vojáček, the newly elected Association pres, was so wise as to set the beginning of the Saturday league as late as noon, so I could take the 6.40 AM train and not the terrible 4.37 one. He reckoned it wouldn't matter if the 2nd team league would end as late as 8pm as all its participants would have to stay in Prague until Sunday anyway.
In the train coupé I entered I met a girl I once was unrequitedly in love with and wrote a lot of love poems for in vain. She was sitting there with her sister who I also knew and I must say the latter turned into a much more beautiful woman since I last saw her some seven years ago – even more beautiful than the sibling of hers I had lost such a lot of love words to. I wondered what the heck they were doing in an early Saturday morning train; they said they were going to take SCIO tests. God forbid ...
As we parted at the Hradec station, they changing trains for the Brno one and me continuing by the same one to Prague, I didn't know what a disaster awaited me in a few minutes.
Inside came a lady with a whole lot of little children. "Free seats here, please?"
"Of course."
"Come here, y'all... one, two, three, four, five, six... seven." All the seven little ones packed up on the two seats, including the lady.
As little children, of course, just aren't able to sit stiff for long, the lady, whom they called "aunt", had to think up various activities.
"Let's play Incognito," someone suggests. In Czech called Kdo jsem? – literally Who am I? – the notorious question-answer game of people guessing the identity of a famous personality on the basis of posing yes-no questions and collecting facts from the answers. The version for little children does not concern famous people of course as they might not know that many – they can make a deal about the topic; this group chose animals.
"And will the gentleman play too, aunt?" asked one of the children.
"I don't know – you have to ask him." I realized that by the gentleman they meant me.
"Why not," I grinned, not wanting to destroy their joy, and my vision of a peaceful train journey was gone.
But not that I didn't enjoy it. It's a kind of welcome change to the stereotype after all. I got this good memory for names, so I soon remembered most of the children by them. This is Nikol; the only boy in the group is called Tom; the beautiful nut-brown girl's name is Barbie. Why are all Barbies so gorgeous? Not to speak of those dolls.
The only disadvantage of me playing was, of course, that just a few hints was enough for me to know the answers right away. The "aunt" thus asked me to keep them for myself to give the children a chance to guess, which I did.
We guessed the anteater; the stork; the parrot; and a few others when the children's attention became quite distracted. Children from other coupés came "to see" us and some of them stayed for the rest of the way, jamming their butts among the others on one of the seats. The "aunt" soon saw it was necessary to come up with another game to keep them seated and amused.
"Let's play telephone!" one of the children suggests. Another well-known children's group game, also called Chinese whispers – the Czech name for it being tichá pošta which would literally translate as "silent mail" – was, for a change, designed to train children's ability of hearing. You know that – it's a notorious one: one whispers something to the one on his/her left, this one passes what (s)he heard them whispering on to the one on their left, and so on it goes until the message reaches the last one in the row, who is supposed to say what (s)he heard aloud. It is often something completely different from what it was meant to be in the beginning, which causes great fun. For instance, I sent "Niagara falls" which resulted in "a pig is watching TV"; the "aunt" though said that with her it still was the Niagara falls, she being someplace midway through the "telephone wire".
Shortly after 10am, we arrived at the main Prague train station.
"Thank you for bearing with us," the aunt grinned.
"No prob. My pleasure," I smiled, packing my things and getting off the train.
Over the map, I called my mom to let her know I had arrived alright and told her about what I'd been through.
"You said they all called her aunt?"
"Yeah."
"Jeez. They were from a children's home then. You'd better check all your things. I suppose a lot of them were gypsies?"
"Nope," I grinned into the phone. Just the beautiful Barbie, eh? And I didn't miss anything, as I had all my money half to half in the fanny pack wallet and in my pocket I had kept my hands on all the way, so I could be sure as hell no one had touched it.
I figured out the route before me was about two miles long. Alright – we got lots of time on our hands, I said to myself. I ain't gonna pay an arm and a leg for a streetcar ticket.
Despite all expectations, I even recalled having gone through some of the places before, which made the way a whole lot easier.
In front of the Tyrš House where the tourn was supposed to take place I met Pepa Grosskopf that came to fight for the Parnas team as a substitute for Pavel Žibřid who, as a doc, was on duty then.
We arrived at about 11.10am – more than forty-five minutes left for my rest after the "hiking expedition". The atmosphere of the upcoming tourn, though, didn't let me keep seated for long. I helped bring (from Pavel Vojáček's car, which took running down and up again the stars with several huge cardboard boxes packed with scrabble items) and hand out scrabble boards onto each table, along with two racks and a bag of tiles per table. After assigning a number to each table, printed on the good ole carton pyramids, it was also necessary to set up the chairs, they all being stacked in rows along the walls.
Making me the deserved cups of tea and coffee, I saw Jirka Kracík coming, and Zbyněk Burda shortly after him. "Typical – coming when the work's all done, ha?" I sneered.
Among the over fifty people gradually arriving, I saw Jarda Kodym the old Grim Reaper. What the heck is he doing here? Hadn't he said before that he'd never ever again play the team league?? Someone's apparently prevailed him, needing a substitute member for their team just like we did.
"Here we go! Table #1: Poškoláci – Túzy!" hollered Pavel Vojáček, meaning the tables 1 to 4 are going to be occupied by the two mentioned teams, Poškoláci or The Detainees and Túzy a múzy or Deuces and Muses, and putting down the player pairing schedules on the tables. "...Table #17: Nerobité – Parnas!"
Well okay – a kinda tough warming up against a team boasting such aces as Radim Hyršovský, Lída Rusá or Břeťa Basta...
I chose Břeťa for my opp. No doubt he's tough and he always ends up in the finals, but I'd managed to beat him a few times and even when not, we'd always had great games.
This one was the more interesting as neither of us played a bingo. But even a non-bingo game turns into an intellectual fight when in charge of two top-35 players that we are (in Břeťa's case even top 13).
Many elderly players wonder how the heck it is possible that nearly all the tip of the top (the Grim Reaper being the exception to the rule) is made up of young people. Don't life experience and acquired knowledge count the most?
Well, apparently that's not the alpha or the omega of it. Strategy, vocab, staying alert to discover the opp's mistakes ... not necessary to name for y'all all the important factors. Squeezing the shit out of all these, we battled one of those blitz games of ours, both of us being fast players. Like we'd made a silent deal that "anyone whose move takes over ten seconds is a wimp".
Until the utter end. Drawing slowly – oh well, fast, I should say – to the conclusion, we thought our moves over more. We were still neck and neck, Břeťa in a slight lead. If I wanna win – which I sure do, ya bet – this could work: get rid of the most valuable letter first and the low-value ones would go together all at once. This way I could go out in two moves and win thanks to his leftover.
The only thing I gotta hope for is that he isn't plannning to do the very same thing, and if he is, that I still manage to do so faster than him.
I did. Yes... yes!!! Against this top-15 guy. 345:331.
"Congrats," he shakes my hand, signing the score sheet.
If I only knew this was going to be the one and only huge success of mine in the whole two upcoming team leagues. I wouldn't have rejoiced that much.
And how did the other Parnas boys do?
Zbyněk Burda lost to Lída Rusá (Katka's sister) 381:316. Pepa Grosskopf lost to Pepa Nerodil 325:358 ("I don't care... I'm just a victim," he says. If he only knew what was going to come....). Ouch... so the highest result we can have in this round now is a tie.
Jirka Kracík was just finishing his game against Radim Hyršovský. With regards to my win, everything now depended on him – whether the round would be a tie or a loss for our team.
We crowded around his table to watch his last moves.
"Going out," Jirka said finally. Chances were Radim's leftover was going to help him win... well, we hope so!
As Jirka was finally signing the sheets, we couldn't help looking over his shoulder.
Whewwww. Could you believe it – 339:340...! We gained the small tie by one point.
Second round – this time against Záškodníci, The Saboteurs. Who chose to play against me was Barbora Hrůzová. Heh, come on for a dusting, gal. Had she known who I'd beaten before her. She'd probably have thought it over.
She, though, kept me busy. Quite like a saboteur, she kept destroying my point plans, and I had to make up new ones at the cost of low-point tactical moves.
But the bingo I was cooking just the heck wouldn't work.
She was neck and neck with me in no time, but, busy with making up the bingo, I let her go, sure as hell that I'd manage and catch up on her soon.
Reminded me of my early tourn games – the big difference being that back then that my effort at bingos used to be as desperate as to make me pass even halfway through a game to finally manage one. Not now. This time I was sure I'd deliver one.
And yes I do mean deliver in the sense of giving birth – Czech women like the metaphor and use it often for a similar toil. (Typical example: mom was telling me about her boss, a stupid ass of real rare kind: "He locked himself in his office and literally delivered a newspaper article there. We could hear him sighing and suspiring exactly as if he was really giving birth to it...")
After throwing off another letter on the board in a low-point move, I got something I expected the least. After moves and moves of six bingo-making letters (a blank among them) plus a seventh shit, and after countless-th throwing off the shit, I drew – guess what?
Yeah – the other blank.
"And I thought all the way that you had it," I grinned at Barbora, by it meaning the blank, which she could tell – now I could tell her fearlessly, as now I would deliver the bingo at last.
I did.
Having gone out shortly, I won by seven points – 359:366 – apologizing for this "lame victory".
"Lame or not, it counts," she says. A cold hard fact. Barbora's surname means "fear" – sure something I didn't feel.
Zbyněk Burda lost to Eva Baďurová 297:307 – quite surprisingly, but she has taken quite a few top players by surprise already, the surprise consisting in beating them. As Jirka Kracík beat Markéta Gutmanová, Pepa Grosskopf was the one whose game would decide whether the round would be a tie or a win for our team. He was playing against 1687-rated Radek Baďura, again having said he didn't care he cuz he just was a victim.
And hey – looks like he was gonna win again! Pepa's shining day, eh? He took Radek out 257:405.
3:1. Good – first victory for us today.
Third round and we stand – well, sit – against Brněnští draci, the Brno Dragons, the renamed team of the used-to-be Kómáci, The Gadgeteers. I liked their old name far better but I got a feeling they might have started to dislike it for the other meaning it implies – "coma people"... someone might have made fun of it, like, you're all playing as if in a coma.
Whatever the reason, we're now facing these Brno people as we would the same old faces. Who chose me was, as always, the good ole scrabble buddy of mine Radek Mannheim.
How else could it proceed but as a good, thrilling, neck and neck game. His confidence rose mainly since he managed to get into the Finals last year and shone there, ending 7th. But that doesn't make me afraid of him – quite the contrary!
"Hey Bro," we shook hands with a grin. We knew another good-time fight was ahead of us. What we didn't know, though, was the ridiculous endgame which was going to come out in some twenty minutes. He played two words I was not sure about and for which I got two penalty crosses as they came out good when challenged.
The neck and neck game kept us thrilled until Radek played a bingo. Well now, a catch-22, eh? If I challenged and it came back good, I'd get a third cross and would have to pass a turn, which would most probably decide the game in Radek's favor.
More exactly, there was nothing doubtable about the bingo as such, but about the hook he made.
"Well... I'll trust ya," I let a sneer, and slowly came to terms with not winning this one. The game status of ours being 389:312 in Radek's favor, I congratulate him and go check the hook he made to hang his bingo on.
Well, whadya think. Invalid. Of course. I felt like shooting myself in the head.
Checking up on the score of other Parnas players, I find I am the only one to have lost in this round, so our win is not threatened by it. Whew. Three wins so four points for our team. Yippee!
"You're the only one of us to have lost in this round," Jirka tells me grinning with the typical scrabble geek tone in his voice. "For shame!"
I kinda feel the whole team league ain't gonna be a shit today.
Fourth round – against Sklípkani, the Trap-Door Spiders. I took another scrabble buddy of mine for my opp, Marián Viochna, a fresh father of little twins, from that beautiful tiny town of Bystřice nad Olší where I spent marvelous time with Šárka in that boarding house. Sure not someone I'd love to win against thanks to getting both blanks and a bingo made with their aid ... like I did (401:309). But oh well – every win counts, and you've got to be glad for it whatever lame it is especially at a team league tourn. Jirka Kracík won over the top-32 player Aleš Horák by 60 points, and Zbyněk Burda did over the finals fighter Martin Kapler (top-22) by 8 points; so we won again. Pepa fought bravely against Ivo Hradský, too – lost by mere 17 points.
Well now, the fun is over. Awaiting us are Střelené kachny, or The Meshugga Ducks – among them the beautiful Žaneta, or the 2004 Champ Michal Sikora, or the 2002 one Martin Sobala who also won the Slovak Championship last year.
Who chose me was the latest mentioned. I play against him at the scrabble site from time to time and ahave managed to get him a few times, but I don't think I could now, at a tourn. He's a bingo thrower, just like I am, but a far bigger one, both creative and lucky as hell – yeah, he's the one to have played 30 bingos at the 15-round Hradec tourn last year.
Well, I remember a tourn at which Jirka Kracík boasted with beating him, so why couldn't I, for this once?
Almost looked like a good time game to be. I made fun of him trying to get away with Slovak words – just for kicks; I just commented them with "I suppose you wouldn't buy this one, ha?", took them back before whacking the clock and played a Czech one.
But just up till a certain moment.
Yeah – the one he started shoving those bingos. The first one was counterblown – I played one of mine right away, also pure, which took him aback.
"Yeah – I know you're a bingoist," he grinned.
Yeah, and didn't take me long till I played another pure one of mine. This time, though, the time over which I composed it, he got substantially ahead, so even the second bingo of mine didn't threat him.
"No way I could catch up anymore," I response in Zbyněk's way. I didn't, but still, against a player of his class, a National Champ and a Slovak National Champ in one, a result I can be satisfied with – just slightly over 40-point difference. 348:389.
Pepa Grosskopf, who had just finished another of his victorious scalps (against Tereza Matějková – 290:323), went around to check how we did, and seeing that, he made a long face: he was the only one to win in this round and so he found his victory "completely fucking useless". The half-Vietnamese beauty Žaneta Leová won over Jirka Kracík (haha, like, hadn't he talked smart ass the day before when I lost to her?) and Zbyněk Burda lost to the 2004 National Champ, sinologist Michal Sikora – though only by 20, so his close loss was most pissoffable this time.
If I thought the next round was an opportunity for a rest, I was badly mistaken. Who awaited us was no other team but the winner of last year's league, Poškoláci or The Detainees. Who chose to play against me was the triple National Champ, Katka Rusá's uncle Milan Kuděj. I've already beaten him once at a tourn and a few times at the scrabble site, so why not again?
And I let him feel this intention of mine. He has to acknowledge a game against me is not a piece of cake at all. We race forward, me getting a blank and throwing a bingo soon, he getting the other and throwing his shortly after. As we both get over 350, we can't but comment this is a great game. Still close, we reach the bottom of the bag; Milan still unsure about the result – but me, in my heart, I already know. The shit I've just drawn can't be gotten rid of any other way but one by one – so he's sure gonna go out before me.
And he did. But still – ain't a 384:403 loss against a triple National Champ good anyway. The most important thing again, though, is how we've done in this round together as a team.
We were one of the last opp pairs to finish, so my team mates gesticulated at me wanting to know how it goes. I frowned and shook my head.
"Okay – a tie then," I heard Jirka say. "We gotta wait for the point diff – to know whether it's gonna be a big tie or a small one."
Whew, then. I lost just by 19. Zbyněk, though, lost to Věra Majtánová 442:370, so by 72. Thanks to my quite close loss it's still going to be a big tie, though – thus for two points. 1530:1490.
The ties between teams were the only thing not to be computed. The individual duel results were written by hand onto a special sheet of paper in guard of Jiří Kamín, and the team results then calculated.
Seventh and last-but-one round for today. As a team we're bombing out, and personally, I'm 3 – 3. No big deal indeed. Two more games ahead of us – this time against the teams Ýáčci and Túzy a múzy, respectively. From Ýáčci I decide to take on Milena Filipová – Stará saň or the Old Shrew.
"You chose me, right?" she grins. I knew it was apparent.
We had a great game, as always. If the team league day is one of a crisis from the point of view of competition, at least I'll live it up.
Another of the games I thank God for the fragrance and deodorant I had taken along, for during such hard fights you sure sweat like a pig. Racing ahead neck and neck with her, I throw a bingo and hope for the tables to finally turn.
They did. But in her favor. No sooner than so before the last letter from the bag was drawn she threw a bingo in return. We both made a sour face at it, disbelieving, saying almost unisono, "well, well".
"I guess I'll challenge," I laughed, saying that in a tone like it was the last thing to do about this dubious-at-first-sight bingo.
"Will you...!" she acted surprise in the very same way, having gotten my irony.
Holy shit – holy moley, could y'all believe it came back valid...?! Took both me and her by surprise. Seems like even the dic(k) is playing against me today too.
Thanks to this impossible bingo of hers, I "couldn't catch up anymore" and had to come to terms with the upcoming loss of mine, hoping the other team members did better.
oOops!
"We got our asses kicked. Oh – four..."
Indeed. We all lost in this round and gave the Ýáčci team four points and a reason to celebrate.
If I thought the last today's round would be a plaster on the aches...
... I was badly mistaken again. I was going the biggest kick in the ass ever. Even my opponent, Pavel Chaloupka, had to admit he had been so fucking lucky. Getting both blanks and a fairy tale of letters, bingos keeping coming to him by themselves, he whacked me 228:463. Uggghhh. No mind to lose any further words about it any more.
Zbyněk Burda lost to Vít Sázavský 362:327, whereas Jirka Kracík won over Marek Lašťovka 432:366. All depended on our substitute "victim" Pepa Grosskopf, playing against Petr Landa (6th on the Chart...), whether he would try and save us a point for a small tie.
We couldn't help but go take a look over his shoulder. There was no need to do so, though, as – as you might already have guessed – their game status was already plain to see, or more exactly plain to hear, from Petr Landa's usual moaning. You know that one by heart, eh? 'All this is a farce... I wish I'd fucked going here...'
Indeed. Pepa beat Petr Landa 396:351, leaving him grumbling as always what a farce all this is, and that a few more of such farces and no one's ever gonna see him at a tourn again.
Well then – one point for a small tie then. Me personally I was 3 – 5, no big deal at all at all, but what comforted me was Zbyněk's results which were 2 – 6, so I didn't end up the worst of us... Jirka and Pepa both shone, ending up 6 – 2 and 5 – 3, respectively. I didn't end up that bad as a whole, 33rd of 53, but at a team league this is not what it's about as you know. What counts is the position of the team as a whole, and we've just worsened our current one. No more of that 4th place of 13 for our team that we'd held up till then. The only thing that's left is to have a beer together at a nearby pub to "flush down the sorrow" and hope for better tomorrow at the 3rd part of the team league.
We walked together a mile, all Parnas members with Zbyněk at lead and us not having quite a clue about were the heck he was leading us to. We were tired and hungry, and were all "hey Zbyněk, when the heck are we gonna arrive?"
He said he needed a hotel to stay overnight close to the main train station – in order not to have to walk too far when the league is over and he'd be off for home. We finally crawled near the station, he found a nearby hotel and left us standing in front of it, uttering that he'd be right back and then we could go have the supper.
Ten minutes, twenty minutes... still no trace of Zbyněk whatsoever.
"Where the hell is he? He said he'd be right back."
Thirty minutes having passed, we were on the brink of going for him to the reception or even turning around and setting out for somewhere for supper just the three of us, when Zbyněk finally appeared with a sour grin.
"I suppose you've had a lot of fun with the receptionist," we sneered ironically, cold to the bone.
"You aren't gonna believe that," he laughed, "not only that the receptionist was apparently Russian so she had a hard time understanding me, but when she finally found out what I was after, she checked the list of applicants and said, ‘I'm sorry, sir, but I don't have you zdyes.' I thought I would die."
We chuckled. Zdyes, transcribed from the cyrilics, being the Russian for "here", we were clear about how hard it must have been for him to finally have her accommodate him.
Seeing the boys having their supper, I started to really look forward to having mine with Dominika.
The boys stuffing away at the grub, me I just ordered a non-alcoholic beer, telling myself I'd better put the supper and the "genuine" beer off for later to enjoy it with Dominika to have an opportunity to invite her for one and thus reciprocate to her for putting me up for the night.
I went to the front of the restaurant and called her. But if I thought that standing in front of the restaurant would help me hear her better, I was mistaken. The wind blowing, cars passing by – there were the more of them the longer I called, of course – I thought I'd hit the roof, or the sky at the moment as no roof was above me.
I finished my beer and said goodbye; now I sought to take the tube to Kobylisy, the Prague suburb where Dominika lived.
The station where I was told to get off (the tube, I mean...!) was called Ládví. A funny name, I thought – when I come home, I must find out where it came from. It reminded me of the word ledví, a bookish Czech expression for the kidneys. And indeed – in this part of the Kobylisy suburb there used to be a nephrologic center.
Lame as it may seem, right after saying hello and giving her a hug, I had to pose this stupid question about where we'd go for the supper. I was as hungry as a wolf, or, as a modern popular Czech simile goes, "as an actor". It being something we'd already arranged before in the phone dialog, she lead me to the nearby pizzeria. Well, ur, nearby – supposed half a mile is still "nearby". But for a mountain hiker, it sure is!
The tuna pizza I had, crowned by a mug of Pilsner, really hit the spot. Not to speak of the good music accompanying it!
"Who's singing that?" I quizzed Dominika, grinning. At the time of our university years, I gave her some "listening classes" after she confessed to me she was quite a laywoman when it comes to music.
Of course I had to tell her. "Mark Knopfler and Dire Straits, duh," I let a sneer. "Such a legend!"
"You know, no one's there to teach me since you've been gone," she sneers back.
To my wonder, a lot of other Dire Straits' songs were played as well while we were there.
"Holy moley – Dire Straits again. Looks like the current DJ over there likes 'em. This one is called Private Investigations."
What would have hit the spot after the arrival to her place was a shower; I was told warm water was not available in her place though.
"Okay, but that way you'll have to put up with the sweaty smell of mine," I grinned. After the tourn a player was nothing but one big stain of sweat.
"Well, no prob really – you know how it is with my smelling ability," she triumphed me again. That's a fact – she'd already once told me.
She took me aback a bit, asking whether I'd like her to turn on the TV. "What for?" I asked perplexedly. "I have you here."
"Well, some like to use it as a background."
"Not me, indeed – no worries about that." We had a nice chat over a cup of tea; around 1am I decided it was high time to hit the sack so I could be fresh for the next day's team league.
Dominika was kind as always and she even accompanied me to the tube station on the Sunday morning. After a few stations I had to change for public transport and right at the stop I met other league players – Katka's mother Dagmar Rusá of the Záškoláci or The Truants team, and her brother, Katka's uncle, the triple National Champ Milan Kuděj of the last year's league winners Poškoláci. Great. Now I sure won't mischange or whatever.
"Hey... you guys are sure gonna gimme advice," I grinned. A bigger prob than which streetcar to get on was where to obtain ticket if you don't have any change.
"Come get on with us, we're gonna go together," Dagmar said, and Milan even gave me the change to buy a ticket.
"Thanks a lot. I'll give it back to ya as soon as I spend the notes and get change for them."
"Don't mention it," he lashes his hand.
Right down the hall of the Tyrš House, we saw a surprising scene – a group of players were trying to get upstairs a chap confined to a wheelchair. I rushed to lend a hand too, but it turned out to be useless – the two gals managed it themselves and refused the offer to relieve.
Throwing the backpack off my back, I hoped the day before's prosecution of bad luck was gone. As the tradition went, we stuffed away at the delicious garlic spread with no heed to what effect on the upcoming opponents it was going to have.
"The guy on the wheelchair, that's Petr Burda," said Jirka Kracík. "You sure know him as Burdik from the scrabble site." I sure do! He's been called up to play for the Ýáčci team as a substitute for a player who had to leave after the Saturday league tourn.
Pavel Vojáček, the new Association pres and team league organizer, called up for attention. "We're having a player needing physical assistance here today."
It was understood that any "superfluous" player of any team who was not playing in the current round was supposed to help Petr put the tiles on the board, hit the clock for him, and so on.
Our first venture of the day is the Sirotci team – the Orphans.
I take on Jindra Voráčková, while Zbyněk does Jiří Kamín. Jiří Kracík sits against Michal Přikryl and Pepa Grosskopf, who "doesn't care and is just a victim", gets the fourth one that's left – Pavel Vojáček himself.
Lady Luck is apparently a passing lover. If I was lucky against her last time, eking out a "lame victory" thanks to getting both blanks at a last minute, getting together a bingo, the tables have turned thid time. With a bingo a both blanks she beat me 280:414, without me having any chance. I could only hope the other team members did better ...
... but save Zbyněk Burda, who won over Jiří Kamín (321:357, one bingo and one blank per either of them), they didn't. Jirka Kracík lost to Michal Přikryl 385:349 and Pepa Grosskopf did to Pavel Vojáček 360:326.
"Okay. So my win is kinda completely fuckin' useless, eh?" grinned Zbyněk, saying just what Pepa did the day before. Indeed. As a team we get diddly-squat for the round.
Let the second round be better. We're playing against Záškoláci, „The Truants"; who chooses to play against me is one of my fave scrabble buddies, Pavlína Pospěchová.
Pavlína started the game but saying she had crap, she swapped her letters. And so my first move must have pissed her off: using a blank I got right as a part of my first rack in this game, I start off with a bingo and chafe my hands, thinking, if I don't stop pushing, I'll for sure have the game nailed soon.
She, though, pushed too. She being neck and neck with me in no time, I had a hard time escaping again. I finally did, but – the same scenario: she soon was after me, breathing on my neck and... making me finding it necessary to compose another bingo, which I did – a pure one this time, blanks having been fairly "distributed" by fate 1:1 between us. The sum of our scores reaching good 778, I don't win, though, by more than 28 points – 375:403.
Jirka Kracík lost to Josef Pustka 369:288 in this round and Pepa Grosskopf did to Dagmar Rusá 295:349, but thanks to Zbyněk Burda who smashed Petr Kuča, the father of last year's National Champ Martin, 422:205, the tie was big for us – our sum of scores was bigger: 1408:1298 in our favor.
But hey – back at home, after a few weeks only, I find something which would made one go apeshit: could y'all believe that – NEITHER of the two bingos I had played against Pavlína was good....! The game's victory of mine and the tie for our team was thus gained thanks to a sudden lucky strike.
The fight exhausts me so much so I spend the whole break sitting on the closet. Now, why am I telling ya – literally – such shit? Well, 'cause right there on the closet, isolated and locked as I am, I could hear interesting details of the current team league round which was still in progess.
"Ya know what I've done?" a guy was telling some other guy standing at the neighboring pissoir. "I played OB [the Czech for "every other"] and simultaneously, I played BO* by mistake. I had to take the move back and pass, and 'cuzza that I caused the loss of my team by one point. Man, I'd kick my ass for that."
Looks like the crapper is a good source of information, eh? Not to speak of inspiration.
I come back just as Pavel Vojáček is announcing the end of the round – good, so the break hasn't even started yet. Even so, though, I've already been sought for.
"You've come late – you'll get Vacek," Jirka utters towards me. Like, he's the most dangerous of the four available opps.
"Okay... I don't mind," I grin. I don't, really. Pepa Grosskopf, as a "victim", takes on the top-10 old Grim Reaper Jaroslav Kodym, who played as a substitute for the pretty and amiable Jana Vágnerová.
Had anyone watched our game "from the outside" without being able to see our racks, they would probably have considered the game quite equal. Yeah – that's 'cause they wouldn't have seen all those pure but homeless bingos of mine...
One. A second. Man, a third....! And still homeless. Guess I'll hit the fucking roof.
And now he – guess what!
Yeah – not only played one of his, but downright a tripled one.
Thank God it's so dubious. Let's go challenge that.
"Outta luck," I rejoice in secret, coming back. He has to take it back and pass.
I still can't help but try it one again and throw off one more letter in a low-point move in the hope of composing a placeable (!) pure bingo.
But it fucking won't work.
I abandon the hope – or the hope does me? – for a bingo and push it forward. Seeing the strong moves, he pulls away... finally managing to go out and cause the game to end at 296:337 in his favor. Not that bad to lose by 31 to him, but – had there been "homes" for the three homeless bingos of mine...! Scrabble life's not fair sometimes.
As I walk away, passing by the neighboring tables, I see Pepa Grosskopf just finishing his game against the top-10 old Grim Reaper Jarda Kodym. AND – guess what...!
".... yippee!" rejoices Pepa, merrily signing the sheet. He won just closely, by six points, thanks to the letters Jarda had to deduct – but hey, he won in spite of the Grim Reaper having both blanks...! He apparently goes on shining as he did the day before.
His joy, though, was up and gone on finding out he was the only Parnas team member to have won in this round. Zbyněk Burda lost to František Růžička 387:322 and Jirka Kracík did to Jana Vágnerová 288:415. Our second loss after three rounds. Ugh. Let's fucking do better.
When in the fourth round we had to do with the Nerobité team, guess who chose me?
Yeah. Exactly – Břeťa Basta.
"Revenge, eh?" I grin. Just like the one I did after the February Prague tourn at the 1st team league when he killed me first at the preceeding February qualification tourn.
Getting ahead, I manage to compose a 8-letter bingo, using a letter on the board. He didn't even block it and so I played it, not willing to believe the bingo was that easy to play. There's sure something behind it that fate plans to do against me.
And indeed. Towards the end, when I expected it the least, he played a tripled bingo for 86 points and then got the other blank, too. His win of 370:322 leaves a bitter feeling inside me, like, he pulled the game out and he knows it.
Pepa Grosskopf beats the "bald-headed beast" Martin Ďuriš 357:305, but on finding again that he was the only one of Parnas team to have won again, he burst out laughing.
"Fuck off, ya two fools!" he laughed fiendishly in desperation – thus addressing me and Zbyněk. Again all he could do was proclaim his win "completely fucking useless"...
Fifth round – against Záškodníci or The Saboteurs this time. Jirka Kracík takes on Barbora Hrůzová for a personal revenge and Pepa Grosskopf puts his name down opposite Radana Williamsová's, while I'm washing my hands: when I come back, I'm only put in a catch-22 between Eva Baďurová and her son Radek. Eva is rated lower than me but even so she's dangerous, having scalped such aces as Petr Vejchoda or Zbyněk Burda (right the day before). Although she ended up 4 – 4 the day before, that day she hadn't won a game yet. At the 2nd team league the day before she played against Zbyněk as well and beat him, so the two had a personal revenge.
This game reminded me strongly of the previous one I had. A neck and neck equal fight, the difference being that my bingo this time was worth no less than 81 pts. But he was the winner, although he bingoed for poor 59 points only towards the end. I didn't lose by much – by 21 points, 392:371. Zbynĕk, though, lost to Eva by quite a lot – 292:424, by 132 points, so all we acquired was one point for a small tie.
"You'd better win some at last," Pepa cuts in an ironic tone.
We sure had.
Standing – well, sitting – against the Brno team Brněnští draci or The Brno Dragons in the sixth round, I choose to play against a buddy – or sis – of mine from the scrabble site, Martina Iliasová. Yeah – the pregnant one living with the "stud" Petr Landa.
"Two on one, eh?" I laugh. "Don't you dare let the little scrabbler inside you give ya advice."
As I shove a pure bingo (koupali – a pural past tense of the verb koupat, "to bathe"), I got my optimism back for a while, thinking, if I win the remaining three games including this one, I could still be 4 – 4.
When I said for a while, though, I meant it literally. If there's this Murphy's law in scrabble according to which you automatically get shit for letters after playing a bingo, then this one must have been downright a constitutional one. Not only that I did, but the shit even kept coming for the rest of the game long, such one that the racks I kept getting didn't even let me block the triple that shone right over there, and it just left me hoping, don't she dare play a bingo in that spot.
She did.
Yeah. What else would you expect on this fucking day? Playing nev(z)duje for 86 points, she practically shrank all my hopes for winning to the size of Emmylou Harris's Wrecking Ball. All I could hope for now is that she gets shit for letters, drawing the last ones from the bottom of the bag.
She didn't.
Now I know – just like a few rounds before – I won't make it anymore. Not indeed, I lose 375:399, but even so thank her for a great game.
Zbyněk Burda is eager to "report" the results of his game against Radek Mannheim (he beat him 338:370), but on seeing he's the only one of us to have won in this round, he rolls his eyes. Jirka Kracík lost to Tomáš Fanta 280:354 and even our "shining" Pepa Grosskopf burned it closely to Jiří Kučka, by two points – 372:370.
"I would've won too," Jirka defends against Zbyněk's mocking, "but he [Tomáš Fanta] shoved příšero there on the board right before the end of the game!"
We couldn't help but laugh. Příšero being the vocative case of příšera, the Czech for a monster, Jirka could pretty well take the bingo personally, as the vocative case is used when addressing someone. Not only did he dare play a bingo against him, but he called him a monster at the same time...
Seventh round Against Sklípkani or the Trap-Door Spiders. I feel the need to go outside before we start and take a gulp of fresh air, only to be told on return that I'd come too late to choose my opp and therefore I'd get Ivo Hradský.
"Okay... I don't care," I lash my hand; today's not my scrabble day anyway.
Ugh. Someone I just can't beat, let alone under today's constellation. This red bearded guy being a top-20 every-year Finals participator, I remember giving up a game against him once at the scrabble site, he getting such great tiles it was just too much to bear.
This time, though, it was a fair loss at least. Yeah – I even defend with a bingo after he attacks with one. And believe it or not, I sneak a non-word sift past him. Not that he didn't doubt its validity, but he said after the game (when we found out it was *ungood) that I looked so assured when playing the word that he bought it... actually I looked assured mainly because I just believed it was good, not realizing at that moment that I was confusing it with the English scrabble version. I lose just by slightly over a hundred points – 426:330, which against a top fifteen player is sure not that bad. What I felt to be bad was just the fact I was the only Parnas member to lose in this round, although Jirka Kracík won over Aleš Horák by mere six points. Pepa Grosskopf shone again, beating a top-20 Finals fighter Martin Kapler 271:445.
Well then, last round before us. Not that it would play any substantial role in changing our team score – so far in the third team league we had been through four (!) losses, one big tie, one small tie and now, finally, a first win. What a crying shame. Let's at least have another in the upcoming last round, against Střelené kachny – The Meshugga Ducks.
Now, guess who.
Guess who chose me.
Yeah – none other than the beautiful half-Vietnamese Žaneta Leová.
"Guess your team mates made you play against me on purpose... cuz they know what chills you give me," I sneer at her.
"Nope... I have chosen you," she defends. Oh well. Be it as may, let's not let her charm distract me.
Being in the lead from the very beginning, it makes me happy that I really didn't let myself get infatuated. And anyway, a thought of her PDA with this Sikora makes my stomach turn upside down.
Well then – seems that Lady Luck has finally arrived. My index finger itches to tap my watch in an eloquent gesture: you've come kinda late, Lady! Now that it's almost over.
(And my middle finger was itching too – to show her a much more eloquent gesture.)
Now, I've never done this at a tourn but – against sweet Žaneta I just can't help it: when I get two blanks at one draw, during my next move I throw one of them back into the bag for her. I play a bingo with the other blank... heh, guess what happened in awhile after a few moves. Yep – the other blank came back. I swapped tiles and threw it in again. And several moves later... the cursed other blank returned for the third time.
Ehh... we still are at safe lead, so let's turn it in again.
A few further moves... then guess what.
Of course: the other blank came for the fourth time. I'm so sorry sweet Žaneta... now there's no way I could throw it back again.
"I'm so sorry... I've thrown the other blank back for ya three times, and now it came back to me for the fourth time," I grin.
"Well, why do you do that?"
Because you're so beautiful, my tongue was itching to say. But anyway, I just utter that I did that so that the game is as fair as possible.
On arrival to report my 367:303 win I find we really do have managed a second win as a team at least. The only Parnas member to have suffered a loss is Zbyněk Burda this time, who lost to the 2004.National Champ Michal Sikora 501:256.
Four losses, one big tie, one small tie and two wins for our team today. Makes us sick. But whom it makes sick the most is Zbyněk and me, both having won just 5 of 16 games.
"How did you do?" we ask one another, asking for personal results – tho the fave typo resluts would sure fit in better this time.
"2 – 3," says Zbyněk, the number this time not meaning wins – losses but wins Saturday – wins Sunday.
"Good – at least someone having performed as lamely as me," I rejoice, provided one can rejoice after a double kick in the ass. "Me I'm 3 – 2."
This strangled the hope of achieving the bronze place as a team in the league. The two unlucky team leagues kicked our team down from 4th to 7th place of 13.
Ending up 38th – ughhhh – of 52 league players, I have fallen down to the ugly 57th place of 243 active players on the Association chart. Ughhhhh. Where's the good old 33rd one of the end of last year? But hey – gonna get right back there!
linkuj.cz vybrali.sme.sk
poslal scrabblista,
13.04.2010 0:34:00
