To pongers, the mention of the holidays only makes us eager with anticipation. We sit through the gifts and the great dinners, enjoying our families and loved ones, but all of us with that little itch in the back of our minds at all times. It’s that little voice paraphrasing Bruce Buffer, “It’s almost time!” The World Series of Beer Pong VI was the biggest yet, with 507 teams. New Mexico sent 7 of those teams, and we would prove that we’re not to be overlooked any longer.

Day -1: December 31st, 2010

This would be my first New Year’s spent in Vegas, and I could not wait for that plane to land at McCarren Airport. There’s a special feeling you get when landing in Vegas. It’s the anticipation that’s triggered by the sight of slot machines everywhere you look, as well as the posters and banners promising a hundred different avenues to fun and frivolity. It can all be summed up in one word: potential.

Anyway, we grabbed our bags and met up with our ride. I’m not sure what the spectators thought when they witnessed us packing in five adults, five sets of Vegas luggage, and enough alcohol to last us the week into a tiny Scion, but I’m sure it was memorable. We made our way to the Tuscany, praying not to get pulled over.

Once we arrived we broke out the night’s drinks, and set up a rudimentary pong table (consisting of two dining tables set apart from one another) and played some PongDeck. I don’t know how it is we always start WSOBP trips without a proper table, but it seems a necessary step in the voyage.

We pregamed while waiting for the others in our party to arrive, including taking shots of John’s specialty, Permafrost and Whatever. When the time came, we dolled ourselves up and made the walk to the strip. This was a reasonably long walk, and I started to worry about some of the drunker members of our party (Juan Dubois) finding their way back by the night’s end.

Once arriving at the strip we forced our way through the crowd to the Planet Hollywood, and inch by inch we made it into The Mile. It was a good night for some cash games at Blondies, and we were lucky enough to get a few games in before having to return to the strip for the countdown.

If you’ve ever been in a big city for New Year’s, you know how this goes. Thousands of people packed incredibly tightly, most of them drunk and screaming. When the countdown reached 0 the crowd was exuberant. After it was all over we started the packed, slow walk back to the Tuscany. By the time we made it back, I was beat. I know I’m getting old, and being drained by 1:30 on New Year’s just served to prove it. I downed a bottled water and promptly passed out.


Day 0: January 1st, 2011

Registration day always seems like a limbo day for me, as there’s no real direction or schedule to follow until the East vs. West at 8 that night. After dropping our luggage off we decided to wait until 4 to check in, hoping to only have to go through The Line once. Pongers know this line all too well and we all wish we could avoid it.

So with 4 hours to kill, we decided to gamble. As is typical, Beth killed it at slots before we decided to hit up the poker room. This would be her first time playing in a casino, and needed to be talked into it. After one 2-hour session she was up $250. Stupid.

Finally we hit The Line. An hour later we were at the front desk only to be told our room wasn’t read. Of course. Why would a room be ready at 5pm for guest check in? I know they’re being rushed by all the pongers checking in at once, and that it’s the day after New Year’s. I understand all that and accept that that’s why we have to wait till around 4. After that point, I know longer think it’s acceptable hotel practice. After three years of hosting the Series, they know exactly what to expect, and they know exactly how many rooms are needed. I just don’t understand how every single time rooms aren’t ready until 6 or later. For the record, our room wasn’t finished until 11:00pm.

Anyway, back to the story at hand, beer pong! I was excited about the East vs. West tournament because this was the first year I felt I had a good chance of making it deep. If Gabe and I could shoot as we’d been shooting the past few weeks, it could be done. We played MD’s Chugsters round 1 and shot lights out to take the win. Second round we played some team I don’t remember, same results. I was on cloud 9. I was winning this damn tournament.

We got Fire and Ice round 3, and I was ready for it. Unfortunately here is where our hot streak cooled. Both Gabe and I went cold in the one game we needed to keep it hot. Our next game was against East Coast Elite, and our first major as a team was finished. 10 Inches had the misfortune of drawing Smashing Time followed by Hard for the Money, arguably the hardest first two games they could have at that point. They were out, but still feeling good about their shooting. Young and the Restless ended up taking the thing down, so East Coast took it down. Guess the West will just have to pull it together in the Series.


Day 1: January 2nd, 2011

It was finally about to begin. The crowd of pongers waiting outside the main ballroom is always a great group to be a part of. Everyone’s going to go 12-0, it’s just a matter of cup diff. After listening to Duncan make the morning announcements, it was time to get pongin!

ABQ had six teams playing this year in the Series, and were joined by our Southwest brethren Clovis with one team and El Paso with three. We had also befriended the Irish via Chris and PeeWee, and so always had more than enough of a cheering session throughout the tournament. After round 2 all but one ABQ team was 2-0 (Burque Bombers had a tough go of it this year). I could not wait for the 6-0 finish of the day, when we lost to Kick Rocks: Rob and Big. This was the only team I recognized on our lineup, but both teams played absolutely god awful. Afterward I needed a moment to calm myself down. I cheered on our boys John and Eric for a win, which felt good. At that point 10 Inches 3-0, all others 2-1.

Gabe and I pulled it together enough to squeeze out our next few games to finish the day 5-1. 10 Inches, Handsome, and Re-United were 4-2, Ducks were 3-3, and the Bombers were 2-4. We went out for a big dinner at Margharitaville before hitting the singles tournaments that night. I definitely should not have eaten so much before a tournament, but I also had no idea of the chaos I was about to endure.

Last year the only side events to occur were the East vs. West and the Singles. Both were run smoothly on different days, and were a lot of fun. This year they went all out (as I had hoped) with a number of side events. Unfortunately, they planned to have 3 of them on the same day in the same room, the East vs. West room (El Dorado). I’m sure there was a reason not to do them in the main ballroom, but it had better be a damn good one because the result was an absolute cluster. The men’s singles, women’s singles, and international tournament were all held in the medium sized ballroom. There were WAY too many people cramped in that small space.

When I realized I wasn’t going to get a schedule for the men’s singles, I knew I was in for some trouble. The largest singles event I’ve ever tried to run using a simple bracket and the call-to-your-table method was 58 players, and that was a mess. This was 128 players. When they called the first games I realized another issue. The first three matches called were “Andy vs. Zach”. Coincidence? Not quite. The bracket had been seeded alphabetically (meaning the first name alphabetically would play the last name). Not quite random, and were it not for all the other problems I could have overlooked this.

I won my first game about 30 minutes after the tournament started. I went to watch a few games. Then a few more. Then a few more. Then I started to wonder if I was still in the tournament. Several other players were getting anxious as well. An hour later I played my second. I lost, then went to see how the ladies tournament was going. My fiancé, Beth, was competing in that one. She had yet to play a single game (two hours after the tournaments started). She approached Skinny and he assured her she was in. Looking back at the men’s singles, I saw about half the tables sitting idle, with players falling asleep in along each wall, waiting for their games.

I have to say that the guy in charge of running the men’s singles (which was not Skinny, who was running both the ladies and the international) has no business of ever running a tournament. This guy had no idea how to run a bracket, no idea how to keep games going, absolutely no idea how to pronounce a name, and had the worst attitude I’ve ever encountered in beer pong (and that is say a LOT). The reason it took an hour between each and every game had everything to do with him leaving half the tables idle, with nobody playing on them.

He also didn’t seem to understand how to enter forfeits, as I’m pretty sure every single forfeit was entered incorrectly (giving the win to the forfeiting player). There was one player who ran 5 games undefeated, only to realize that his first game had been entered as a loss and he had been playing through the losers bracket. I heard later that my name was called several times after I had taken my second loss.

Skinny said the reason they were doing it this way was because people complained about being confused last year. To those drunk asses of you who couldn’t understand a simple “If, then” spreadsheet last year, damn you…damn you to hell. I plead with BDS to return to that much simpler (MUCH easier to follow) system next year. I also plead to future players not to fear entering these events just because they were absolutely terrible this year. I’m praying Skinny will take the experience of that hell and learn from it (though I’m sure he loved the part of the night where he wandered the room holding his laptop, with all the women’s contenders following him en masse).

Anyway, we went to bed and hoped for a better day tomorrow.


Day 2: January 3rd, 2011

Day 2, I was ready for you this year you bastard! I tried to warn all of our new players joining us this year about Day 2, but I don’t think they listened. I had gotten a decent night’s sleep and felt fine, but I could read the others’ faces enough to know what they were going through. One year ago that day was the worst day of my life, and I was prepared.

We opened the day 2-0 and I could not miss. Gabe was struggling slightly (as he had the previous day), but I kept telling him that we’d get to Day 3 and then it was his time to turn it on. After losing our 3rd game of the day due to both of us shooting terrible (and me attempting to break the rail behind us in the process), I needed to chill in the room until the next round. I apologize for not being there for the other NM teams during that round, but I just had to get my composure. After calming down, Gabe and I closed the day out at 5-1, enough to make Day 3 and not have to play in.

Sonny and David ended the day 5-1, taking a 9-3 overall to get into Day 3. Kyle and PeeWee absolutely killed Day 2 going 6-0, finishing up at 10-2. For the first time in 3 years of trying, Kyle made Day 3. Nobody tell Gary. Clovis’s Second Chance also went 10-2 in prelims, meaning NM had 4 teams competing on Day 3. Not bad for our first year breaking that barrier!

Congrats also go to the NM teams who didn’t make it this year: A Lotta Handsome, Ducks Fly Together, and Burque Bombers. I’m so glad you guys made it out this year and I have to say, the Series is 10 times better when you have a crowd with you. I also have a little admission to make, I enjoy talking shit from the sidelines more than playing, and this year gave me plenty of opportunities. My voice is hurting for it right now, but well worth it.

That night I ate light, getting ready for the Coed tournament at O’Sheas. I felt like Beth and I had a really good chance of taking that one down, with how she had been shooting the past few months and how I’d been shooting the past two days. Unfortunately it wasn’t to be. We drew Mike Wan first round, who didn’t really shoot that great, but good enough to put us out with how we were performing. The next game we played a girl who had knocked Beth out of the ladies tournament the night before, and a miss-deflected ball resulted in them getting an early trifecta. We never recovered from the early loss of cups, and were out of the tournament. I didn’t want to get down about it, so we cheered on Chris and Elyse for a while, then wandered a bit taking in the night.

Eventually we made it back to the room, and we called it an early night so we could be ready for the big day. We didn’t know what was in store.


Day 3: January 4th, 2011

I came into this year’s Series with 4 goals, in descending order of likelihood:

Goal 1: Make Day 3 – If I didn’t make Day 3 this year, I was going to have a long hard look at what I was doing with this game. I really didn’t want to think about what I’d do if that happened.

Goal 2: Make the Sweet 16 – I felt like if Gabe and I could make Day 3, we had a reasonable chance of at least making the finals of our bracket, and from there who knows!

Goal 3: Make the black carpet – This was a farfetched dream, but damn did I want to play in front of the screaming masses!

Goal 4: Win the $50,000 – There’s not a team that signs up for the Series who doesn’t have the thought, however small and tucked away, of possibly winning the thing. The cheers, the lights, the money, the glory… it’s what all of us really want deep down. So if I’m dreaming why not?

So by the morning of Day 3, I had attained my first goal of the trip. After getting a look at our bracket and not really recognizing any of the teams, I felt like we had a realistic chance of attaining my second goal, the 16. Before our game, though, was the play in round and we had to cheer on 10 Inches, not that they needed the help. They easily broke through the most high-pressure game of the tournament (in my opinion). One game or your out? Shitty.

Then it was Round 2, and time to get in shape. My hands were shaking like no other, and I tried to counter it with beer, but it wasn’t working. The team we played gave us plenty of chances, fortunately, allowing Gabe to carry us through that first win. He pulled through when we needed it. I apologized and set on calming my nerves. After it was all done Gabe told me we had just beat Mike Vit’s team (I’m embarrassed to say I didn’t know what he looked like at that point), and my confidence boomed. We were gonna do this thing.

Kyle and PeeWee lost their first game, and 10 Inches won their second. 10 Inches third game was against East Coast Elite. You really have to read Sonny’s recounting of that particular game, in which 10 Inches and the NM crew took on one of Jersey’s best teams and their crew. It was a thing of beauty, that NM naturally took down by 3 cups (even after Sonny knock one over!).

I don’t remember much about our second game aside from Gabe carrying us to the win again, but I do remember our third game. BoomTown Collaboration, probably the least classy douchebags on the planet. On our opening shot, one of these guys took a mouthful of beer and spit it at us, splashing all over our cups and our side of the table. About halfway through the game they threw a full cup of beer (which we had just made ha!) at us, spilling all over Gabe. Hey guess what? We kicked their ass (shooting about 10/14). Douchebags got no place in my bracket.

After that we played the longest match of my life. It was the finals of our bracket, and we were up against Mike Vit’s team once again. During the first game I went stone cold. Though Gabe did his thing and got us to one cup, we just couldn’t close. By the time the second game started, all other games were done. They entire damn ballroom was standing around the rail watching our game. With the exception of the Southwest crew (10 Inches and Re-United were out), Clovis, El Paso, and the Irish whom we had befriended, the entire room was against us. I’ve never felt that kind of antagonism before, and it was glorious. Though I still had a slow start, when it was time to do it, I was there. They made last cup with two to go. Gabe steps up and sinks it easily. By this point Skinny had started calling down a shot clock on us every time we shot (kinda shitty, but what are we gonna do?). I stepped up with the whole crowd talking shit, and drained it. In triple-OT we took it down and I’ve never been more excited. I don’t think I’ve ever screamed so many obscenities in my life as I did at that crowd standing behind me after we won. Goal 2 was obtained, we were in the sweet 16.

The first game of the Sweet 16 we drew Unstoppable Since Inception. I didn’t really recognize the team, and they didn’t shoot amazingly well, but it was enough to stop us. I didn’t even care at that point (my first mistake) as I was still riding the high of making it that far. Gabe told me not to be satisfied, and after I saw we had Allergic to Losing (Kessler and Twig) next, I was going to put in a good showing. I didn’t expect to win, but I was gonna make it count.

Let’s talk briefly about Kevin Kessler. This guy is a dick. I don’t care what you say to me during a game. That shit is part of the game and I accept it gladly. But you can shake my damn hand before the game starts. I went up to shake his hand and he said, “Don’t shake my hand, I’m not your friend,” followed by a slew of similar statements and obscenities. Try to get in my head again, douche.

Gabe took the first shot and broke the 10. Kessler and Twig three-balled it, and we did the same. They three-balled it, we hit 2 and Gabe rimmed the 4. They made 1, then Kessler missed at 3. We three balled to take the lead, 3-1. Twig missed at 3, and Kessler hit. I stepped up to take the shot at 1 cup, and missed (losing my perfect game in the process). I had it in my head that we couldn’t miss or we’d lose, to the point that I actually forgot at first that Gabe had a shot. I was sure we were going into OT. Then I remembered Gabe had a shot and I was buzzing. No way in 100 shots does Gabe ever miss in that spot. I’d have bet any amount of money. With that in mind it was all I could do to keep from screaming my lungs out. Gabe steps up, does his routine, and puts the ball in the air. It was then that I heard the second most beautiful sound in the world, splash. I gave a slight “boom!” and waited for the 2 cup. Twig stepped up for the shot, and launched. Here’s the number one most beautiful sound that exists: a rimmed rebuttal attempt.

I did not have enough shit to say to Kessler at that point. His tournament was over, and it was due to No Chance. I know for a fact now that we want to play shit talkers every chance we get, because I shoot best against douchebags! This proves, of course, that Mike Vit and Matt O’Neil are not douchebags because I shot like shit against them, plus they were great sports after it was all over. But Kessler? Who’s that? Video of our win against Kessler and Twig can be found below.



And so I had achieved my third goal, as our next game was to be played on the black carpet, against none other than Chichester and Basille. Flying high from the previous game, I didn’t put in the necessary concentration for this one. Though they gave us plenty of chances, we just couldn’t put two together, and lost by two cups. Out in T-9th. We got paid in the World Series of Beer Pong. Not many people can say that, and I’m proud of what we accomplished. My fourth goal will have to wait until next year, now that we know what we can do.

We stuck around to watch what Sweat Tea could do, but they bowed out not long after us. After watching the semis I was disgusted that we couldn’t play in any of these rounds (as everyone has said multiple times, the semis were not impressive games). I decided to get out early, and learned later that Standing Ovation had beaten Unstoppable Since Inception in the finals. I’m glad Nick S. won after losing to that dick I talked about earlier in the singles finals. The main event’s where the real money is anyway, so congrats to Standing Ovation!

Better get ready for next year boys, NM is not stopping at 9th!

-Clawless