Now, you may be thinking to yourself: “These groomsman games are the most egregious case of self indulgent, narcissistic broism that I’ve ever seen!”
I’d have trouble making an argument against that case. The Groomsman games are, without a doubt, a case of bro-love taken way too far (not to be confused with other instances of bro love going too far). Well, I figure if we’re going to bro it out, there’s one event we can’t avoid: a beer pong tournament.
Beer pong is a wonderful game for so many reasons. Firstly, it combines two of our group’s greatest passions: crappy beer and competition. Beer pong is just close enough to an athletic activity that it almost feels like a sport. It can be mastered by any schmuck with half-decent hand-eye coordination and a high alcohol tolerance. It’s also a great way to pregame, tailgate, fill out halftime during a football game, and kill time at a semi-boring party. In college, we all had a tendency to be the guys who signed up early and often at the beer pong list* at every party. There’d be enough of us playing frequently enough that there was a good chance one of us would be on the table at all times.
*You know the list I’m talking about. It started off on a neat sheet of 8 1/2 x 11 printer paper and a gel pen that some nice girls laid out before their house filled up with a bunch of freeloading minors. By the end of the night, someone was using a Sharpie on a beer soaked paper towel and it was definitely bleeding through onto the detached door that was being used as the makeshift table. Well, that permanent marker ain’t coming out of your closet door but that paint job will come out of your security deposit.
Now, nobody will ever confuse most of us with elite athletes but in our primes, we were all pretty good pong players. Because of our relative combined skill at beer pong, compared to every other sport, we made this our activity of choice in much of our free time. Even after school, we hosted such memorable (sort of) events as the World Cup of Beer Pong*, the World Series of Beer Pong**, and the Women’s World Cup of Beer Pong***. We’ve had plenty of arguments for who is the best but what better opportunity to prove it than the groomsman games.
*A resounding success and an epic event that will go down in drinking history.
**Not quite the success of the first, it may have ended in a belligerent McCannon family meltdown in the finals that ended when Mac decided he was too angry to keep playing. It was eerily reminiscent of an 8 year old throwing a temper tantrum, if the 8 year old was 6 feet tall, weighed a buck eighty, and had a .25 BAC.
***Probably a little bit of a stretch but the event turned out great so who’se complaining?
The setup was simple, each person was a one man team. We played round-robin style and the standings were based on the total number of cups made in each game. This meant that the winner always made 6 cups but the loser could mitigate the damage by making 5 out of 6 cups. In hindsight, maybe I should have picked a game that required slightly less drinking* but I think it turned out pretty successful overall.
*This tournament belongs on the list of Five Reasons I Can Tell I’m Growing Up.
- McCannon – 10 points
- Alan – 7 points
- Rudolph – 5 points
- Clifford – 3 points
- Elijah – 2 points
- Bart – 1 point
- McCannon – 37 points
- Alan – 31 points
- Rudolph – 24 points
- Elijah – 19 points
- Clifford – 15 points
- Bart – 14 point
Testimonial From the Winner – McCannon’s Corner – Annnnnnd we’re back. This one played out EXACTLY the way I was expecting it to. I generally come out weakly in Beer Pong…it’s always been my Achille’s Heel – if you’re gonna get to me, get to me early. Rudy beat me with 3 cups remaining to start off my Beer Pong campaign. I loosened up and handled business the rest of the way – took up residence in Al’s head, bossed shit up, won multiple rounds by multiple cups. Winning out the rest of the way after my initial loss was pretty much the only way back into the game; it was a nail-biter right to the bitter end. As I said, events unfolded EXACTLY as I expected: Rudy went ahead and choked big time in a chance to clinch and I cruised to victory doing the Reggie-Miller-to-Spike-Lee gesture. Fortunately, Rudy didn’t get last so we don’t have to read a bunch of excuses from him.
Testimonial from the Loser – Bart – Sometimes you never know your own strength until you are put into a situation where you must rely upon yourself to survive. This was not one of those days. I went down with the ship. Except there was no ship, only a drunken, sloppy mess that was me. I was asked to recap my loss, but all I remember is bitter defeat and a stomach full of turmoil.