Well, it came in last night. The one e-mail you dread the most when you are about to leave for a tournament. The e-mail from the tournament director/manager asking for help setting up the courts.

 

For night people like me, getting up early in the morning to set up courts is not festive. Sleeping in on a tournament day is like gold (to me). But unfortunately, the boundary lines, wickets, corner pegs, balls, etc, don't roll out onto the court and set themselves up. For every successful tournament, there is always a handful of people who do an inordinate amount of work.

 

More to the point, we all have to help out, because we are all the beneficiaries of countless others who help us out. As I sit here now and think over the last three years or so, I can tick off an army of people who have helped me. That list includes the kindly (or not so) veteran players who helped me when I first started playing 6w croquet, who answered questions, showed me shots, or took me aside to tell me what I did wrong (nicely or not so). There are also the countless others who have silently put in a good word about me to potential doubles partners; who mediated disputes between me and others (when bad Eric comes out to play); who have organized great tournaments that I have enjoyed; who have promoted and attended tournaments that I ran; who have donated equipment; who have recommended me for certain positions or events; who have showed me the ropes; who have gone to bat for me when I needed help; who have cheered me when I did well and supported me when I didn't. Believe me, it's a ton of people. And if you think real hard about it, you could probably come up with a pretty sizable list of people who have helped you too.

 

So, after I initially grumbled about how early I have to get up, I cheerfully e-mailed back and, after my gratuitous, snarky comment, said, "I'm in, what can I do?" I hope you will answer that call the same way when you get it (especially if it comes from me).

 

Speaking of favors, I got none today. The Championship flight doubles is single elimination, best two games out of three. Lose two games and go home (well, not literally, but you get the point). I played with Steve Mossbrook from Wyoming. Steve is an excellent player who has been playing a long time. He's been to this rodeo many times before (pardon the Wyoming pun), so I was thrilled when he invited me to partner up with him. But we played the great team of Chris Percival-Smith and Leo Nikora, who are both world class players. In fact, both will be competing in Australia in April in the AC World Championships. Needless to say, Steve and I were quickly dispatched, two games to nothing. As Steve said, "Eric, this was the quickest partnership to dissolve in a long time." Oh well, I think our partnership at least lasted longer than some of Kim Kardashian's marriages?

 

I went out of the frying pan and into the fire when it came to my two singles matches today. My first opponent was Jim Bast. Ugh. He was on the Solomon Trophy team that just beat the Brits this past summer. I had just three shots in the entire game. My first ball set up on the east boundary. My second ball shot at his tice ball (and missed ugly). He ran a break to four-back. I had one more shot of about 39 feet or so and missed by an inch or so. He ran the next break, did a triple peel and the game was over. Three strikes and you're out. Jim played flawlessly, made no mistakes and made it look so easy. I think the fact that he was playing the worst seed in our bracket meant he had absolutely no nerves at all and was basically running a practice match to warm-up for the better players. Hey, we all have our roles in these little dramas. For now, I'm the Washington Generals to the other players' Harlem Globetrotters.

 

My second singles match today was against Brian Cumming, the best player from Canada, and one of the best players in the world. I had just watched him dispatch a very good player in the game before mine. The lump started forming in my throat. And just when I thought it wouldn't get any worse, it did. Brian did one of those tricky "super shot" openings. I'm still not convinced I understand what the *&^% I'm supposed to do on those. Anyway, I missed him with my first shot. He hit in on his third shot and ran his break, with just three balls, all the way around to four-back. And this was before I even hit my second ball into the game. So when I dropped my second ball down on the B-baulk line to shoot, I was already down 9-0. Hey, when do I get to play? When he was done with his break, Brian put all three balls on a horizontal line roughly level with the peg, going east-west. I basically had a half-court shot, but if I hit any of the three balls, it's a really good thing. I focused and miracle or miracles, I hit! I caught up to him by running my break to four-back too. Still, the entire game I felt like I was a half-dead bird to Brian's cat: he was just playing with me until the death blow came. Another bit of misfortune let me run a break to two-back with my second ball, but then my own misfortune of getting stuck in two-back spelled curtains for me. The cat finished off the bird and the game was won by the great Brian Cumming 26-18. Hey, at least I didn't get shut-out.

 

To put in perspective how deep the talent level runs here, my last two singles games on Wednesday are against, theoretically, the two lowest seeds in my bracket beside myself, i.e., my "easy games." Well, both of those gentlemen are also playing in the AC World Championships in April. Easy games? Lesson number two, there are NO easy games in the Championship flight, especially when you are the crummy guy in the block like me.

 

The disaster tour continues tomorrow. Two or three more singles games. No more doubles (sorry, Steve). I'm out.

--Eric Sawyer | Pasadena Croquet Club | www.pasadenacroquetclub.org