Post by Admin on Apr 13, 2011 9:14:50 GMT -5
A friend and I were talking last night over drinks and reminiscing about our jeans and a t-shirt days of paintball. In those days we never played a game without one another so we each had different viewpoints of the same story. There was one memory that stood out against all others and each of us remembered it the same way. Truth be told I've never actually forgotten this story and to this day it still acts as inspiration to me when I'm on the field.
It was our second month of playing paintball, we'd probably gone to three or four games by now and we owned our own crappy little guns. It'd been a small day for the field so instead of splitting up the groups they brought them all together to be one massive group. If I had to guess there were probably fifty people total, give or take.
My buddy and I got on to a castle like field and instantly started planning our attack. Some of the older guys on our team were probably just trying to get rid of us so they sent us up the left side of the field to try and flank. Let me explain, the left side of the field was not tactically sound for attacking. Our approach was on low ground with little cover and streams ran through it in every direction so the ground was really soft (hard to run on). In short, you'd have to be stupid to mount an attack from this direction. Ignorance is bliss.
The whistle sounded and it was game on. Half of our team took off running to the right, the other half up the center and a few guys (including us) down the left (shut up the math works out). My friend and I moved quickly up the field going from cover to cover. Unfortunately we moved up a bit too quick and came upon the opfor with zero chance of help from the rest of our team. Being thirteen years old with Brass Eagle pump guns and a pod of extra ammo each we did the only logical thing and hid behind cover in the hopes that we weren't totally screwed.
Out of no where this guy runs up and sticks himself to the cover next to us. I don't think any description could fully detail him, but I'll try anyway. He was decked out in black from head to toe, black boots, gloves and mask with a mirror black visor. He had a vest on with black pods and I **** you not he was shooting black paint. I have no idea what type of marker he was using but it looked like it probably came out of Russia for the sole purpose of killin' Nazi... it was also black.
This guy looks over at us and says casually "Hey guys, cover me alright?" The way he said it was less "I need cover" and more "Hey, you're new to the sport and I want you to be involved even though I know you aren't going to do crap for me."
He took off from cover, shooting a guy who was mere feet from flanking out pathetic arses. From there he quickly moved from cover to cover, eliminating targets of opportunity without any hesitation. My friend and I watched this all go down from a standing position behind our knee high cover, as we were no longer a target. The guy continued to move up until finally he dropped behind a hill and was totally out of sight. By this point the rest of our team showed up, consisting of a fat guy in jeans and Tom Selleck... not sure what he was doing there either. The right side of the field had pretty much cleared up the remaining forces and moments later the whistle sounded for game over.
We all came off the field and had a 10 minute break before our next game. Everyone stayed in the same area telling their battle stories to friend and foe alike. My buddy and I searched frantically for the guy who had come to help us but couldn't find him anywhere. Stranger still, no one recognized his description or for that matter had seen him either. It was like he had just vanished.
At the end of the day we got picked up my dear old mom and that was the first story we made sure to tell. She chuckled and replied only this:
"Must have been an Archangel."
Archangel huh? Yeah, I kinda like that... Thanks for reading guys and gal(s)! Until next time.
It was our second month of playing paintball, we'd probably gone to three or four games by now and we owned our own crappy little guns. It'd been a small day for the field so instead of splitting up the groups they brought them all together to be one massive group. If I had to guess there were probably fifty people total, give or take.
My buddy and I got on to a castle like field and instantly started planning our attack. Some of the older guys on our team were probably just trying to get rid of us so they sent us up the left side of the field to try and flank. Let me explain, the left side of the field was not tactically sound for attacking. Our approach was on low ground with little cover and streams ran through it in every direction so the ground was really soft (hard to run on). In short, you'd have to be stupid to mount an attack from this direction. Ignorance is bliss.
The whistle sounded and it was game on. Half of our team took off running to the right, the other half up the center and a few guys (including us) down the left (shut up the math works out). My friend and I moved quickly up the field going from cover to cover. Unfortunately we moved up a bit too quick and came upon the opfor with zero chance of help from the rest of our team. Being thirteen years old with Brass Eagle pump guns and a pod of extra ammo each we did the only logical thing and hid behind cover in the hopes that we weren't totally screwed.
Out of no where this guy runs up and sticks himself to the cover next to us. I don't think any description could fully detail him, but I'll try anyway. He was decked out in black from head to toe, black boots, gloves and mask with a mirror black visor. He had a vest on with black pods and I **** you not he was shooting black paint. I have no idea what type of marker he was using but it looked like it probably came out of Russia for the sole purpose of killin' Nazi... it was also black.
This guy looks over at us and says casually "Hey guys, cover me alright?" The way he said it was less "I need cover" and more "Hey, you're new to the sport and I want you to be involved even though I know you aren't going to do crap for me."
He took off from cover, shooting a guy who was mere feet from flanking out pathetic arses. From there he quickly moved from cover to cover, eliminating targets of opportunity without any hesitation. My friend and I watched this all go down from a standing position behind our knee high cover, as we were no longer a target. The guy continued to move up until finally he dropped behind a hill and was totally out of sight. By this point the rest of our team showed up, consisting of a fat guy in jeans and Tom Selleck... not sure what he was doing there either. The right side of the field had pretty much cleared up the remaining forces and moments later the whistle sounded for game over.
We all came off the field and had a 10 minute break before our next game. Everyone stayed in the same area telling their battle stories to friend and foe alike. My buddy and I searched frantically for the guy who had come to help us but couldn't find him anywhere. Stranger still, no one recognized his description or for that matter had seen him either. It was like he had just vanished.
At the end of the day we got picked up my dear old mom and that was the first story we made sure to tell. She chuckled and replied only this:
"Must have been an Archangel."
Archangel huh? Yeah, I kinda like that... Thanks for reading guys and gal(s)! Until next time.
