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Why Beer Pong Rules Part 1: The Athlete’s Story

Warning!! This Post Requires Reading! (But it’s still cool)

Varsity Athlete

In high I was the star quarterback for the football team, star pitcher for the baseball team and the star point guard for the basketball team. I craved competition and was awsome at every sport I played. Everything was great and I was riding high.

Now, like most people in college, I have realized that I am just like everyone else around me; an ID number, doing bullshit liberal arts work to someday get a shitty job working out of a f’n cubical. No one knows and no one cares that I threw a no hitter once in sectionals or that I set my high school record for touchdown passes. The only thing I can get credit for now is how good I am at drinking. I ended up going nowhere in football, baseball, and basketball. Not because I wasn’t good; just because everyone was so much better. I might have been great D3 backup material but who the hell wants to be a backup at a D3 college? There’s no glory in that! As my talents, potential, and desire to perform physical activities diminished more and more with every drink I took, joint I smokeed and pound I gained, I was left with one last form of competition that I could always rely on… beer pong.

It started out as a fun drinking game in high school, but the more I played in college, the more I realized that beer pong might be the greatest game ever. It’s not only fun and requires no physical activity, but it gets you drunk fast. On top of that, the more you drink, the better you get at it! Once that realization set in, the passion followed, and then the power competition took over. Competition that evoked drama and emotions that no other drinking game can come close to matching. Drama like this one night at a house party in my buddies basement:

It was a tie game; both teams had one cup remaining and it was my shot for the win…

My palms were sweaty and my heart was beginning to race… the opposing team just missed their last two shots. One of my opponents, a hot, tanned 5’ 4”, 115lb blonde chick was flashing her lacey pink 32C bra and shaking her boobs up and down from across the beer pong table to distract me as her douche bag partner stood there with a stupid grin on his face. That’s when I realized for the first time in my life that I was actually TRYING to ignore a set of large breasts on a girl that I would bang without ANY hesitation. None of that mattered right now though. All that mattered was that single red SOLO cup that stood tall (like my dick would’vd been if I wasn’t playing beer pong…) 8 feet way across the beer soaked table in front of me.

The crowd had grown in size around the beer pong table as the game continued on for what seemed like hours. I took a quick peak around the room to get perspective on the importance of my s next shot. Everyone was watching me and waiting in anticipation as I picked up the white ping pong ball from the water cup. Making sure the ball didn’t slip out of my hands and to get al the pubes off it, I shook it a couple times and dried it off on my shirt until I could feel the slight texture of the ball against my finger tips.

Immediately, like the beer pong ball was a hot chick eying me down from the other side of a bar, my breathing became fast and my legs begin to quiver slightly in anticipation. As adrenalin surged through all parts of my body I lifted my arm toward the other side of the table. I closed my eyes a second to stabilize myself, re-gain a sense of depth perception and to get those damn bouncing breasts out of my head. As I opened my eyes again, the room shifted slowly back into place from both sides of my vision… It had been a long night and I was officially wasted!

The bumping music in the basement and the sound of the crowd around the table started to fade as I brought my forearm back and forward a couple times in a calculated practice routine to get acquainted with the table and become “one” with the cup ahead. The room was silent now… it was just me and that cup. My head cleared and my focus reached it’s peak. Finally comfortable, I sucked in one last deep breath and brought my arm back, then just as fast, forward. As my forearm slashed forward toward the opposing team, I released the ball from my hand along with silent hope for victory. The shot felt good right off the bat. My hand followed the ball in the air on my follow through and everything went into slow motion. My heart was racing even faster now and my eyes widened for what felt like an eternity as everyone in the room stared at the majestic white ball floating through the smokey air of the dingy basement. Suddenly, the ball disappeared from view behind the rim of opposing team’s cup. Time sped forward, and by instinct, I immediately threw my fist up in the air flexing every muscle in my arm while letting out a jolt of excitement and vindication. A feeling of confidence and joy shot through my body… I had once again become that star pitcher from high school who just struck out the side to win the final game in states! Hell, I could’ve just threw the winning touchdown pass with time running down in the superbowl.

And that’s why beer pong Rules to me…

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    One Response to “Why Beer Pong Rules Part 1: The Athlete’s Story”

    1. Camille Shrier Says:

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