The Friday Night Cornhole Tournament

So, last week, my buddy (Kevin) asks me to partner with him at the Friday Night Cornhole tournament at the local Greene Turtle. I figured, "What the hell". If nothing else, it was a good enough excuse to knock back some beer and blow off some steam.

Prior to going to the Greene Turtle, Kevin asked me if I wanted to get some practice in before we left. Just so no one gets the wrong idea, cornhole is a game where you throw beanbags at a 2' x 4' board. The board has a 6 inch hole cut into the top half. The object is to get your beanbag into the hole (or at least up on the board). But anyway, when someone invites you over for "corn-hole practice", you gotta make sure you know exactly what their intentions are.

So, as I'm finishing up dinner, I tell Tina that I'm heading around the the corner to Kevin's for some practice before the big tournament. For some reason, she found this to be exceptionally funny. So, I asked, "What's so humorous?"

Trying to catch her breath in between laughs, she says, "Are you serious? You guys are actually having cornhole practice?"

I didn't even respond, I just grabbed my things and headed out the door. I've got a serious contest to win and my wife is treating me like I'm Bozo the Clown. So much much for getting any support on the home-front.....

Once I got over to to my friends house, we threw a few games on his front lawn. A couple beer-toting guys throwing beanbags on the front lawn was vintage Pasadena. To add the the to redneck visual, Kevin's friend stopped by with his jacked-up '57 Chevy. I'm not kidding you, you needed a ladder to get into this thing. This only thing missing from the whole scene was a Confederate flag and some Lynyrd Skynyrd.

We eventually make it over to the Greene Turtle. We grab a beer inside and then head out back to the patio. The end of the parking lot has been roped off and covered with a large tent. Under the tent, there's a line of cornhole boards which will soon be transformed into a redneck battleground. Some of the cornhole boards are so busy with artwork that they look more like a "Where's Waldo" painting.

As I look around, I quickly notice how serious these guys take this stuff. I see one heavily tattooed guy rotating his arms and neck as if he was getting ready for an MMA fight. One guy is putting on a knee brace, which I find really odd. I overhear two other guys discussing loft and wind resistance. Still another guy tells me about how it's a strategic advantage if you force your opponent to throw next to one of the poles that happened to be supporting the tent. Like I said, these guys were all business!

The "cornhole host/announcer" began to announce the rules over a shitty PA system. He informed us that these rules were under the same guidelines as the ACA. Putting my ignorance on full display, I naively asked the guy next to me, "What the f*ck is the ACA?" He tells me that it stands for the American Cornhole Association. Who ever knew that there was such a thing? (I'd be willing to bet that the ACA headquarters is somewhere in downtown Pasadena.)

After waiting for what seemed an eternity, Kevin and I got finally paired up with our first opponents. As we exchanged handshakes and salutations, my opponent and I  looked at each other with a degree of familiarity. It turned out that we knew each other. I guess all of the beer that we consumed while waiting to play must have slowed our ability to recognize one another. Once the game started, Kevin and I took an early 12-0 lead. We really thought we had the game sewed up. So, I began to offer up some words of encouragement to my adversary, "Hey man, look at the bright side. It's a double elimination tournament. At least you'll get to play another game in the loser's bracket." I was sincerely trying to be nice. But looking back on it, I probably did sound like a bit of a dick.

During this time, my opponent tells me how competitive his partner (and son) is. He tells me that if he loses, he'll probably go "apeshit". Great! Now, I've got to decide to whether to throw one through the hole or get my ass kicked by the kid with the anger management problem. Right on cue, the father-son team comes storming back and it's now 19-19 (the game ends when one team reaches 21). Kevin wound up throwing a good round and we wound up winning. We all shook hands and I'm happy to report that no one went apeshit.

As the night went on, so did the drinking. Our next match didn't come up for roughly two hours later. I can't help but think that the long wait was intentionally designed by the bar in an attempt to get you to buy more drinks. Well, in my case, it worked. By the time we took to our boards, I was practically seeing double. My new opponent, who looked a little like UFC legend Chuck Liddell, shook my hand hand and asked, "So, do you want to flip a coin to see who goes first?"

For some unknown reason, totally forgetting how serious these guys take this stuff, I say, "Nah, I'll go ahead and get this party started". Then, I toss the ceremonial first beanbag. It's a wonder Mr, Liddell didn't ram my oversize head through the 6-inch cornhole. But was cool about and he and his partner went on to kick our asses by a score of 21-0. I have to admit, that stung a little. When people asked how we did, I simply said we lost and left it at that.

We eventually got another match in the losers bracket. I honestly can't remember the details from that one. But I think it's safe to say that we lost. Oh well, maybe next time, I'll put on my game face and lay off of the Heavy Seas. I need every advantage I can get against these seasoned Cornhole veterans.....

kw