Match info
| Date | League | Winner | Loser | Score | Type | |||||
| 2005-10-11 | STA Copper | @ | Clan Red Eye | 54.84 +1.02 |
TiTz | The Intangible TFC Zealots | -0.10 -1.02 |
90-0 150-20 | Crossover2 Crossover2 |
|
Writeup:
@ over TiTz
The return of Darwin's Favorite
Oh, Lord, the avian warrior made his return, and the return was glorious. The twirls, the throws, the grabs, and the tosses were all smooth and well timed. The splash damage was masterful, and the detonations were flawless. The little bird did a lot of everything. From flag running and capping to solid defense and bridge spam, the action always seemed to find him. Perhaps it was his new equipment. Perhaps it was his reputation. Perhaps it was merely happenstance.
Oh yes, the Finch was back, and for a single night, life seemed grand for the Reds. The flags exited the Titter's base like glacial melt rushing to the ocean. It could not be stopped or even contained by the heavy levies standing in the path. They wound their way around the would-be blockers and laid their treasures upon the Great Seal of Plenty. The caps were cold and refreshing like the crystal mountain waters and the Reds bathed themselves until their hands turned pruny.
Oh my, the Titter's overmatched, overwhelmed, underpaid, and underrepresented offense never managed to gain traction against the Reds' defense. Maybe it was the Reds' luck. Maybe it was their skill. Maybe it was playing a team without a full deck. Maybe the Reds were lucky that the Titter's short deck was not played more skillfully. Whatever the cause may be, it was an hour of celebration by the Reds and no commenting by the Titters. No one other than the Titters honestly knows what they were thinking before, during, or after the match. They came in a flurry, left in a hurry, and afterward mentioned something about how sharing information is for communists. Yes, neither the Freedom of Information Act nor the STA rules shall stand in the way of the Titter's fight against the Reds' communist requests for match logs. It is too bad they did a better job stymieing the Reds' desire to make sense of the match than they did stymieing the Reds' desire to win it.
Oh well. Despite a logless night, the Finch was still back, and all had ended well for the Reds. Well, almost all had ended well. There was yet another instance of the Reds' defense killing its own flag runner as he entered the yard with the goods. The official investigation concluded that the runner had not provided the proper clearance to capture the flag. Apparently carrying the flag is not good enough for the Reds--one has to know the secret dance too. Then there was the near crowbaring of the Reds' engineer by the rest of the defense. If it had not been for a well placed respawn site, an intentional teamkill certainly would have taken place. Finally, there were those times when some overzealous offy ran the flag into the center of the Titter's base only to lose it in an inauspicious location. Yes, even with the Finchmeister present, the Reds still found ways to slow themselves down.
Oh, for the dozens of caps. Oh, for the self inflicted pain of playing short. Oh, for the Titters. Oh, for the cookies that fuel our fire. Oh, for naturally being selected against. And oh, for OSU because Dr. Finchheimer says so, and for one night, we honor him.
