How To Be A Sore Winner

When I was 8, I borrowed a friend’s Super Nintendo with a copy of Street Fighter II.

I was in heaven! It was the pinnacle of my achievements that year, alongside beating Faxanadu and getting my own pool cue.

I spent a week playing that game on my own, learning to do a Shoryuken, and constantly wearing all my green clothes and trying to roll around the house like Blanka.

However, there was one dark day that marred my beautiful game: it was the day I faced off against my older brother.

We must’ve played 15 games, all of which he lost (like a BITCH!). After all my victories, he said “c’mon bro, take the weakest character, I don’t know how to play this game.”

Little did I know, it was a trap.

Being 8, and not knowing how to do a 360°, I took Zangief, in my mind the worst character, and one that I had never used before. My brother took Ken, and after a hard match, beat me by a fraction of a sliver of life on the last round.

“Yes! I WIN!” he exclaimed, as he jumped up and pumped his fists into the air. “I win! I’m the best!”

I sat there and looked at him, waiting for the rematch.

“C’mon, hit play again,” I said.

“Nope,” he replied. “I beat you, and I won. I now retire as the undefeated champion. I’m not playing this game anymore.”

And he walked away. That was 20 years ago.

Trash Talking

Whenever I play someone, I talk some mad shit. Win, lose or draw, it doesn’t matter, my catchphrase is “I’m the best.”

Two years ago, when I was learning to play Street Fighter IV, I essentially got beat down for 9 months before finally breaking even with my buddy. And during that time, even though my win ratio was about 1 in 25, I would not shut up.

“Alright, it’s cool. I lost that one, but you know what? I was studying your moves, and now I can read you. I’m in your mind. Prepare to get beat down.”

Lose again.

“You know what? I was taking it easy on you. But this time? It’s ON for realsies. I’m going to kick your ass now.”

Lose again.

“I’m in the zone. Those 49 games you just won? I was learning all of your strats. Now that I have assimilated you, I’m going to beat you with a belt and take this one.”

Win! 

“See? Told you I was going to win.”

My buddy, of course, laughed his ass off. He didn’t mind the incessant shit talking, because he was still winning 24 of 25 games. He knew that none of what I was saying made any sense, and it was all in good fun anyway. Slowly though, ever so slowly, the shit talking began to seep into his brain, until one day…

“I win!” he shouted. “I’m the best now. You think you’re good? I beat you down. Go ahead, do a random Shoryuken. I’ll punish you FOREVER!”

Ding. He has been assimilated.

The Origin of Trash Talking

The funny thing is, when I moved to Montreal ten years ago, I met with the local Tekken community, and proceeded to shit talk them like a madman when we played. They had never seen anything like it, and were shocked at my insanity.

However, over the years, the more I trash talked, the more they got into it.

Now? We all get together and tear each other apart when we play. It’s part of the ritual of playing fighting games, and one of the main reasons I don’t enjoy online play so much.

What’s the point of beating your opponent down, when you can’t trash talk them the whole time and see the expression on their face? Even worse, what if I have a mic and he doesn’t? I get the pleasure of trash talking him, but can’t enjoy any of his rebuttals.

Be careful though: it’s very easy to cross a line, and you don’t want to actually hurt your buddy’s feelings with your words. You just want to crush his pride.

Epilogue

“A year has passed since Bimmy and Jimmy defeated…” oh wait, my bad. Wrong story.

So in 2009, a full 17 years after my crushing defeat at the hands of my shit talking older brother, I finally had my revenge. I went to visit my family over Christmas, when he brought over his copy of a UFC fighting game.

He then challenged me to a match. He must’ve forgotten about his previous victory when I was a child, but I hadn’t. Because I, like Ryu, have a real fighting spirit.

And am probably a little insane.

We put the game in, and as he and my other brother duked it out, I picked up the instruction manual and learned the buttons.

When it was my turn to play, I almost couldn’t contain the glee in my body. This was it, the moment of truth. This was retribution.

We played, and although I struggled for a few minutes with the controls (UFC Fighter is no Tekken), I slowly but surely used everything in my arsenal to take control of the match.

Spacing, footsies, good defence, patience… all of the tools I’ve been practicing since Tekken 2. The result?

I wiped the floor with my bro, and FINALLY TOOK MY RIGHTFUL PLACE AS KING OF EVERYTHING!

The world was in balance once more, and I was free to move on with my life and walk off into the sunset.

Also, I’m the best.

Geeks, are you the best? Ladygeeks, are you the best? NO! I’m the best. Get over it.