the free entry and hotel room that goes with it.
Once I get into the first round, I’m actually calmer than I was when I was waiting.
I get lucky and they pick one of my favorite maps, Horizons, and I’m quickly in the zone, coasting by a half-dozen decent players. My sixth qualie match goes fast so I’m a bit ahead of the rest of the draw, queued up, waiting for my next opponent my right leg bouncing up and down like it has a muscle spasm. I’m getting so close, just three more wins. I’m all nerves and Starfare buzz, trying to calm down by scanning one of the Starfare message boards when I’m startled by an IM on my personal account in all caps:
Stompazer: HEY NOOB READY TO GET STOMPED
I don’t even bother replying. This guy Stompazer has been stalking me for over a year. Ever since I got written up in this computer magazine. They did a story on whether the next generation of American players could produce a Starfarer who could compete with the Koreans. I talked to a reporter on the phone for a few minutes and the story itself was pretty lame. But this guy Stompazer thinks he’s going to be the LeBron James of Starfare and is pissed off that they didn’t mention him in the story. He’s a couple of years older than me and I have no problem saying he’s a decent player. But he has way too much time on his hands. Just about every day he’s IMing or emailing me a challenge, saying how he’s going to knock my butt around or grind me into little pieces or stomp my ass. And that’s the clean stuff. I’ve changed my handle a couple of times but someone must be feeding him info because he just pops up and laughs at me for trying to avoid him.
Stompazer: BETTER PUT ON A HELMET ASSWIPE CUZ IM GOING TO KICK YOUR HEAD IN
When I pop up the tournament screen I mutter a few choice swear words, because there it is. I’ve drawn him in the round of eight, game to start in three minutes.
Stompazer: THE GREAT AMERICAN HOPE IS GOING DWN
I try to ignore this guy because I’m pretty sure he’s seriously deranged. And he’s spent all this time researching me and tracking me online. I’m pretty sure he knows where I live. All I know about him, besides he’s nuts, is that he lives somewhere in California and is a senior in high school. He’s had a few good wins, but so far I wouldn’t say he’s done anything to make people think he was going to take the Starfare world by storm. I decide if I’m going to play him, I’m going to have to acknowledge him.
ActionSeth: Hey
Stompazer: THAT ALL U GOT TO SAY…U R SUCH A PUSSY
I’d bet anything that Stomp is a complete loser IRL. Not that my real life is all wins. But at least I’m not spending all my free time harassing people online. I shut down the IM and concentrate on the tournament clock. We’ve played one-on-one ten times and he lets me know every day that he’s up 6-4. What I’ve never told him is he’s so obnoxious that in half those games I just tanked to get rid of him.
But this one counts. A lot. I try not to think about how painful it would be to get this close and go down. To Stomp. But as soon as the start screen lights up, my nerves are gone. As always, the action is frantic. For about twenty minutes it looks like a draw to me. But Mr. Stomp doesn’t know a couple of things. First, I’ve been training harder than I ever have in my life. And I know this Horizon map like the way my tongue knows the back of my teeth. As we get into the midgame it’s pretty clear that I’ve got the upper hand when it comes to knowing the little quirks, taking the shortcuts, squeezing all those extra resources. My material advantage just grows and grows and the more I relax, the more I’m able to press him. I take special pleasure in a furious battle outside his home base, knowing that I’ve got superior numbers. I’m shooting fireballs so fast the screen looks like a strobe light, generating a rumble of sound effects like a Kansas thunderstorm. Normally you’re way too busy to message your opponent but Stomp starts throwing up little IMs on the game screen, stuff like I’m a lucky suck. I just smile to myself and concentrate on finishing him off. It doesn’t take long.
I know Stomp will do everything in his power to stalk me if I stay online, so I shut down the computer and soak it in. Next weekend, it’s the final four. I’m really happy with that, because I’m not getting in the kind of hours I think I need to really take it up a notch. During my best week, I’m getting around thirty-five hours. The Koreans pros, who absolutely dominate, they’re training twelve to fourteen hours a day, six days a week. And they’re working these maps as a team, a dozen of them just pounding on it hour after hour, sharing every little quirk and advantage they stumble on. Even if I had fourteen hours a day I couldn’t compete with that.
Somehow I get through another week of school while all I can think about is the upcoming final rounds. The way I took out Stomp has my confidence level up a notch, but the waiting on Saturday is still excruciating. I’m getting a bunch of IMs from my online friends, wishing me luck. It’s a good thing I have a heavy-duty office chair, because I’m rocking it back and forth like I’m on horseback. Then the clock is ticking down to zero and from the first mouse click I just fall into this incredible groove. It’s hard to explain. I watched my brother hit seven three-pointers one night and I asked him how it felt and he just shrugged and said, “Sometimes you just know everything you throw up is going down the hole.”
I’m in the same zone. Everything just flows. In the battles my mouse is clicking so fast that it’s almost a solid noise and I’m gliding over the map like a marble on glass. I dominate the semis and in the finals I don’t think I miss a single shot and squeak out a really close match against a well-known player, AceMaxer. Just like that, I’ve got a free seat at Nationals right after school gets out. The winner of the individual event at Nationals gets $30,000.
All my online friends, like DTerra, they’re IMing me, screaming stuff like, “AWESOME DUDE!” and “NEXT STOP NATIONAL CHAMP!”
When things settle down it’s just me and DTerra.
DTerra: man id give anything to b there
ActionSeth: so come
DTerra: no way im going to qualify
ActionSeth: come a day early and play the qualies and grind in
DTerra: u think I got a chance
ActionSeth: sure… u said your old man travels a lot
ActionSeth: so get some frequent flier points…u can crash at my hotel, cheap trip
DTerra: OK will work on it…gtg…cu
I shut down the IM and sit there in a bit of a daze. Thinking about what I need to do to win that $30,000 and, of course, what I do with the money. First thing would be the ultimate gaming platform. I waste at least an hour a week browsing for a new rig I couldn’t possible afford. Until I win Nationals. That will leave about $27,000. Which I’ll need to cover my expenses while I train for the pro circuit. I can finish high school doing an online program, which costs a couple grand. I’ve checked it out completely and it’s totally legit. If you’re a famous teen actor or sports star, it’s pretty much automatic. If I’m going to be the first American to break into the pro game in a big way, it just makes sense that I’m going to have to train harder than any American ever has. Especially when you know how hard the Korean pros are working and how the best of them peak at age nineteen or twenty.
Then I plan what I’m going to say when I’m interviewed for Computer Gaming World after I win Nationals. When they ask me what’s the most important source of my success. I picture myself standing on a stage holding an oversized check for $30,000. I have the answer all planned out: “My parents’ divorce.”
That
