It's EVO Baby!

 This last weekend,in fabulous Las Vegas, a myriad of combatants will clash in a test of fists and wills. Fists and feet will fly, tears will be shed, and many an enthusiastic fan will scream himself hoarse.

A fabulous shot of the champion getting embraced by the man he beat in Grand Finals.

I’m not talking about the next UFC cage match (though there probably is one of those happening too), I’m talking about Evo. The only esports event that I follow closely. There are some other events I'll tune into, GDQ (games done quick) is always a fun watch, and the LCS (league championship series) draws a massive crowd. But for me, it has to be Evo.

The Evolution Championship series (Evo) is the biggest fighting game tournament in the world (there are over 7000 competitors this year, and a grand prize of ten thousand dollars.  People travel from all over the world to compete at games that basically breaks down to PUNCH THE GUY IN THE FACE!

I don’t know what it is about these games that appeals to me so much (particularly because I play them so terribly), but I’m happy as a pig in shit to just sit and play for hours, then go online to watch videos of other people playing that same game.

It really is like watching a sport. There are sponsoring labels, and players who Don that merchandise as proudly as any NASCAR driver.

Ravenous, I dig through the back pages of back pages, constantly on the hunt for some new combo or piece of tech to get the slightest edge over the competition.  I’m slightly ashamed to admit I know more about the frontrunner of the is years Evo than the current state of the Seattle Mariners.(Long time reader(s?) will know that I’m a big Mariners fan too.)

What brought me to this lowly state?  Well, 20 years ago next month, I met a man who would eventually set me down this path. A man named Hello Pájaro (As always, names have been altered protect those who claim to be innocent).

He was one of the very first people I met when I spent my disastrous freshmen year of college at MSU (for more on that flavorful experience click here.) And we became fast friends. We of course lost touch when I set fire to my college career, but to our mutual surprise, we ended up working together at the same store.

By the end of his first week, he was my favorite person to see at work. The one buddy that makes working retail not only bearable, but even occasionally enjoyable. By the end of his first month, we were hanging out outside of work. Twenty years later, he is like an uncle to my children. (The weird, distant uncle, but still)

At evo this year, there was a blind entrant. And he won several matches.

One fateful night, early into the bromance, he asked me if I ever played fight games.

“Oh yeah”, I scoffed. “I don’t like to brag, but I’m pretty good.”

This, dear reader, was a lie in two parts. Firstly, I love to brag (just ask my wife about any time I’ve been proven right), and secondly, as I quickly discovered, I’m not as good as I thought.

I invited him to play one evening after work. Food and fight games we declared. I invited this man into my home, I fed him. And how was my hospitality repaid? He kicked my ass. Beat me like a red-headed stepchild. Completely wiped the floor with me. He’s never really stopped wiping the floor with me. No matter what I try, no matter how much time and effort I put into training, I can never get more that the occasional win over Hello Pájaro.

I think that is what my entire obsession boils down to at this point. I don’t want to be a world champion. I don’t expect to win against every opponent I face. But just once, I want to wipe the floor with Hello Pájaro.