It’s Friday night in Phoenix, and the desert has finally started to cool off. We’re in the middle of the prelims, two games down and two to go, and things could be better. Tomorrow will be a big day for the team. We had lost one game to the Los Angeles Ironmen and won our second game against Upton 187 Crew. So, to keep things in context, we lost to the 3rd ranked team in the league, in the Ironmen, but that’s a squad with a lot of untested players. And 187 is talented, their front guys attack without fear, but at this point, they hadn’t won a game in the league as this is their first year. So we shouldn’t be losing to either of those teams, not with the roster we have. At this point, we knew that we could not afford another mistake or our event would be over. In the Pro division of the PSP, every game is important.
It’s Friday in Las Vegas, 2nd game of the event. I slide into the snake as the game is closing out, and immediately get in a gunfight down the line. Information filters in from my teammates, who are screaming behind me, “There’s only one more Uprising player left!”
It has to be the sucka I’m battling down the line. My first instinct, go merc this fool. But only rookies run straight into guns, that’s instant death; I have to do this with finesse. I let him think he’s put me in, so he’ll stay out of his bunker, gunned up on the tapeline. If he’s posted up, waiting for me to snapshoot with him, while I cut inside, he won’t know what’s happening until I drop him to the turf with three to his earhole.