Another excerpt from a post I made to our work wiki, detailing our latest match in the company bocce tournament. We won again, miraculously.
Al Pacino reporting
There they were, on the field. The pitch. The battlefield on which future players will look to and say, "There strode heroes. TITANS!" It was cold, yeah, it was cold and you can stamp your feet and pull that scarf tighter but no weather bites quite so hard as the fangs of competition. The cold icepick that sinks in your chest when facing destiny, how everyone will remember you from this day to next, for all history as long as the annals of VP Students Portfolio Bocce tournaments are written.
Team A faced Team B that cold day. Both teams undefeated. Both staring posterity with the unblinking eyes of champions.
With the heart that has defined Team A's career, they surged ahead to a 6-1 lead.
Team B, looked into their souls, they saw what needed to get done, they knew Team A would not go down without a fight, would not go quietly into the night. But neither would they. Clawing every inch, breaking against an insurmountable tide, they pulled themselves up. Team A would not be had, oh no, in their breasts beat the hearts of lions, and they too exchanged feats of athleticism with Team B. The score after the dust settled and the brows wiped, stood at 12-6.
It was all but over. But to Team B, bruised and bloodied was nothing, victory everything. You could see it in the way they tossed the bocce, the way they bit down and grunted when they missed.
Then Team A took their eye off the ball.
Bocce, like life, is a game of focus. You get confident, you get cocky, you start to think that competition doesn't have the bite you once feared. Doesn't threaten you with mortal danger that it does everystep of the way. And Team A broke focus. Team B, warriors of field, bastions of excellence, knew when to drive, and drive they did. They fought, they attacked, they did not surrender. Bruised and bloodied, maybe, but not beaten, they led an onslaught of offense to close the margin to 12-11.
And then, awoken, startled to their imminent demise to a team they had, until now, lead with no falter, Team A rallied. They set their shoulders low and they threw themselves behind their game. They clawed and bit and punched to the top.
Team A closed out the game at 15-11. Both teams left, wearied, both teams, feeling the bite of a well fought battle. But only one victor.
Al Pacino reporting
There they were, on the field. The pitch. The battlefield on which future players will look to and say, "There strode heroes. TITANS!" It was cold, yeah, it was cold and you can stamp your feet and pull that scarf tighter but no weather bites quite so hard as the fangs of competition. The cold icepick that sinks in your chest when facing destiny, how everyone will remember you from this day to next, for all history as long as the annals of VP Students Portfolio Bocce tournaments are written.
Team A faced Team B that cold day. Both teams undefeated. Both staring posterity with the unblinking eyes of champions.
With the heart that has defined Team A's career, they surged ahead to a 6-1 lead.
Team B, looked into their souls, they saw what needed to get done, they knew Team A would not go down without a fight, would not go quietly into the night. But neither would they. Clawing every inch, breaking against an insurmountable tide, they pulled themselves up. Team A would not be had, oh no, in their breasts beat the hearts of lions, and they too exchanged feats of athleticism with Team B. The score after the dust settled and the brows wiped, stood at 12-6.
It was all but over. But to Team B, bruised and bloodied was nothing, victory everything. You could see it in the way they tossed the bocce, the way they bit down and grunted when they missed.
Then Team A took their eye off the ball.
Bocce, like life, is a game of focus. You get confident, you get cocky, you start to think that competition doesn't have the bite you once feared. Doesn't threaten you with mortal danger that it does everystep of the way. And Team A broke focus. Team B, warriors of field, bastions of excellence, knew when to drive, and drive they did. They fought, they attacked, they did not surrender. Bruised and bloodied, maybe, but not beaten, they led an onslaught of offense to close the margin to 12-11.
And then, awoken, startled to their imminent demise to a team they had, until now, lead with no falter, Team A rallied. They set their shoulders low and they threw themselves behind their game. They clawed and bit and punched to the top.
Team A closed out the game at 15-11. Both teams left, wearied, both teams, feeling the bite of a well fought battle. But only one victor.
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