Cornhole

Yes, I said it.  But it's not what you think, unless you've played it before then, in fact, it is exactly what you think.  It's a highly skilled game of precision and strategy meant to titillate the mind and senses with it's highs and lows.  Ooorrrrrrr it's a redneck game that's just above Lawn Darts, but with less chance to kabob your foot.  Oh, and a beverage in hand is a requirement to play.  A bit of advice . . . . . don't ever call it "Cornhole" to gay men.  I made the mistake of answering the "What is this game called?" question to a gay man with "Cornhole".  His eyes lit up like he was Tiger Woods at an Adult Video Awards banquet.  


Cornhole is a brilliant game introduced to me by Ian, Zach and Kristin.  Apparently it's a midwest, Ohio game.  You can understand why, even in Michigan, I'd never heard of it before.  Nobody takes anything from Ohio.  They even had to keep Lebron James.


In any case, in the spirit of this blog and it's winning ways, I thought it only appropriate to post about a game I played last night with Step-on-me's brother, Doc (not his real name, but he was a Navy Corpsman so thus the nickname).  


Side note:  One thing you should know about me is that, while I'm not a superstar at any one sport/activity (except life, duh), I tend to be fairly competent at most competition-based activities . . . . thus the title of this blog.  I think the reasoning is that I never wanted to be last picked, or if I was, I wanted to piss off the other team by being really, really good so that they regretted not picking me earlier.  


So, I've been giving Doc a shellacking since he moved down here two weeks ago and since the weather is finnnnallly getting nice.  Last night was no different, but he's progressed in his Cornhole IQ and started to make it a game.  


Here's the scenario:  mr. overly competitive is up 20-19.  I've already gone over 21 once (which means my score returns to 13 since the goal is to hit 21 exactly) and clawed my way back in it with some acute gameplay.  Needing only 1 point to win, I began my barrage of 1 point shots (on the board is 1 point; in the hole is 3).  Doc stepped up his game and was matching me bag-for-bag (you only score points on the positive points you earn - for example, if I have 3 bags on and Doc has 2 on, I score 1 point).  So, neither of us was willing to concede.  And then this happened:

I'm the neon bags.  Doc's orange.  You see that bag on the ground to the right?  That was Doc's final toss.  All he had to do was knock Mr. Cliffhanger there off the edge or put his bag on the board.  Epic fail, my friend.  Epic fail.  


mr. overly competitive 21; Doc 19


I win.
mr. overly competitive