Ladies and Gentlemen, I’ll try to make this short – On Thursday, March 11th, 1PXOFF’s final ball was thrown.

It’s no stretch to say that this was not how we wanted things to end – the tournament had just begun.  We were just getting warmed up, really.  Accustomed to the pre-game routine, the entire team boarded the elevator at the same time, an entire cab of white and red uniforms, an irrepressible energy permeating the air.  On the fourth floor we pushed through the narrow hallway to the basketball courts, started the practice throws, but this time something was different.

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I knew I probably wouldn’t make it.

It was a hard decision, one that I had not made until very late in the day.  But let’s face it, Dave Eggers doesn’t just set up a table in your local bookstore and start signing things every week.  I had formulated a strong argument, had presented it from an objective standpoint.

“The book signing is really close to the Athletic Club.” I explained.  “I’ll get there just as the second game is starting, all fresh and ready for battle!  It will work out great.”  Everyone had said the same thing – it’s cool, it’s alright, things come up.  They weren’t holding it against me.  I was hardly the first person to miss a game.

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Hello Sportsfans.  It is with much excitement that I announce ANOTHER stunning dodgeball victory.  Not your run of the mill victory either – a straight sweep.  That’s four games in a row of skull-crushing, (metaphorically speaking; literal skull-crushing is strictly banned by the Denver Athletic Club), white-knuckled dogdebapocalypse (that’s a real word).  It was a tough climb, but it appears as though we have reached a plateau of middle-ground, a place where we can set up a base camp and sleep easily for the next week.  Yet I, ever watchful of our next endeavor, inspect the peak many miles above us.  I wonder if we will make it that high.

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Perhaps I owe everyone an apology.  I’m not going to pretend I don’t take dodgeball very seriously; I think any uncertainty on that was addressed as I yelled feverishly from the sidelines throughout the game as if incanting an ancient dodgeball spirit to guide us to victory.  Really, I was yelling quite loud.  But it must have worked; something did – because this week – this week was not the result of luck.  Its outcome was not staked in a weaker team, a smaller one, no!  This victory (and oh, what a solid victory it was) was the result of a team that worked together, that fought together, and at the end of the night, simply wanted it more.

Am I gushing?  I think I’m gushing a little bit.  For the first time I feel affinity with the effusive soccer moms, the lyrical little league dads, singing the unending refrains of this home run, that game-winning goal.  And much like them I refuse to shut up about it until I’ve told you the whole story.

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