Pokemon Tourney Story

I found this story about a Pokemon Tourney a while ago on a random image board (not the random board, but a random board), but it was deleted pretty fast, hopefully it finds its home on Tumblr. It’s pretty cool and heroic and stuff:

Sometimes, winning a tournament feels good. You overcome everyone else in fair matches, shake hands, and come away with a nice little prize. Sometimes, winning a tournament feels bad. You’re the oldest one there, you’re stomping on little kids, parents glare at you, and the store hands you some dinky coupon and a mention that if you come back to redeem it, you’ll get your ass kicked.

Sometimes, winning a tournament, even a tiny local one, is about something more.

Usually, I’m the oldest player at small tournaments like this. It’s a bit uncomfortable, so I know I’ve got to be the nice guy. I won’t throw matches, but I’ve held back to make sure I don’t completely sweep kids who wind up using a NU/UU team completely devoid of EV training. Last time I swept a kid, the kid’s father threatened to shove my DS up my ass sideways. This tournament was different. Half the parents there are playing. A few just have a team their kid traded them and are completely lost; a few are casual players who just want some way to connect with their kids. I’ve driven an hour to get here, so I brought along my twelve year old nephew as an excuse. He’s pretty hyped up about the whole thing. His choices are dubious at best, so I spent some time breeding his favorites with decent IV and EV so he wouldn’t get his ass handed to him. Call me obsessive if you will, I just don’t want him getting trashed by some asshole with an OU team without putting up a fight. The kid uses Flareon, dammit. He needs help.

Well, that much aside, back to the tournament. First match, I’m up against some kid who’s younger than my nephew. He’s got an old clunky original DS with “TJ” scratched into it. He says his name is Mark. I ask if TJ is his brother and find out the scratches were because his mom got the DS at a garage sale. The match is so lopsided it’s hard for me to make it look like a fair fight. I’m swapping in and out haphazardly, using support moves that are completely pointless. Mark is the only one in the room that doesn’t see what I’m doing, and I still beat him losing only two Pokemon. He winds up shaking my hand and tells me I must be the best player ever. I damn near choked up; it hurt to beat that kid. I don’t throw fights, but I was hoping he’d pull off some sort of miracle. I come to find out that I won for a reason.

My nephew just got swept by this zit-faced teen around sixteen years old whose name I forget but it was probably Shithead McDouchebag from the way he acted. Second round and quarter finals go by, same thing happens. In the semi-finals, he’s up against a girl a bit younger than he is. He’s calling her an ugly fat slob; she breaks down crying and runs out of the room. He claims victory. The store owner is about to DQ him for unsportsmanlike behavior. I had just beaten one father in the semi-finals; he got through four of mine in a fairly good match. Nice guy too. He shook my hand and quietly told me to kick that punk’s ass. I agreed. This was a grudge match. He was going to pay hard for being a dick to my nephew.

I tell the store owner to hold off on kicking the kid out. I prepare for the next match. The kid looks up at me and asks if I feel like a big man, playing a kid’s game. Sure, I know I’m one of the older players. I’m a bit competitive, but I play to have fun. I laugh and tell him I brought my nephew and thought I might as well have some fun too. I look around the store; everyone left is either a parent or an elementary school kid. I point this out and ask him “What’s your excuse?”

There weren’t any particular rules other than a shortlist of Pokemon not permitted. It basically meant “No Ubers” in a way casual players would understand. This douchebag pulls out Arceus. No fucking 

kidding. Arceus. I have no idea why nobody called him out on it before, and I know damn well I couldn’t do it at this point. I wasn’t going to sweep this guy the way he deserved, but I wasn’t about to go down easy. I send out Gengar for a suicide mission. Perish Song. Shit gets real. A few minutes later, he’s got five, I’ve got two. I send out my Infernape. A few more minutes later, he’s got one, I’ve got two. Trouble is, his one is a Swampert and Infernape is hurting. I knock off a decent chunk of life before Infernape is at his last sliver of life. I grin, this couldn’t have been any better. I throw out Sunny Day, he laughs and sends Infernape down for the count leaving me with one Pokemon left as well.


Yeah, you heard me. Not Venusaur, not Ivyasur. One unevolved Bulbasaur. His IVs nearly made me shit myself, 30 in speed and S.Atk. You can call me a waste of space for not evolving him, but Bulbasaur 

was my bro from day one. I picked him in Blue, he saved my ass more times than I could count, and I finally lost my Blue cartridge. After so long, I finally get another Bulbasaur and he’s a complete beast. EV training, evolution denial, you name it. This was top percentage of top percentage Bulbasaur and he was up against a Water/Ground type. It’s a Sunny Day.

This kid’s face twists like he just got punched in the dick. He knew what was coming. I thought I knew what was coming. That kid Mark? He was still there, watching. He shouts out “Bulbasaur! Use your Solar Beam attack!”

Trainers, you ever have one of those moments where everything is set up perfectly? This was definitely one of those moments. I bust out Solar Beam. Super effective 4x right to the face. Douchebag’s Swampert goes down, I win the tournament. Douchebag opens his mouth to be a wiseass, the store owner and one very pissed off guy who I’m pretty sure was a Marine escort him out of the place. The prize for winning the tournament? My choice of HeartGold or SoulSilver. Of course, I had SoulSilver, my nephew had HeartGold, and we’re both pretty happy where we’re at. I did the only thing I could do. I asked Mark which one he wanted. It’s not very often that I feel like a hero, but that was one of those days.