Trystan's Torrent of Totally Titillating Testimonials, Trivial Tales & Tribulations
2005-09-06 - 13:11 hrs
It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.
Due to a combination of a no-show by one of the Canadian competitors, and my overly rambunctious and irreverent attitude, I was bumped from the tournament roster at noon on Friday. I was officially listed as the 9th competitor of an 8-man field. They like to have an even number of competitors, bye rounds make the tourney needlessly complicated and confusing for the audience, and for the squires and some Knights for that matter.
In hindsight, I understand and agree with that decision. That didn't make Friday night any easier though. After a very long talk with my wonderful Lady, and a much shorter one -w- Sir 'The' Barchan, I decided to attend tourney and have as positive of an attitude as I could possibly muster.
Saturday went as well as could be expected, with me trying to mostly be as quiet and unobtrusive as possible. Bless their hearts, the bosses even gave me permission to watch the passes from the dais, which was very exciting to say the least! I was glad that I attended; I had fun just watching, which if you know me, is not my normal M.O. by any means.
Felt pretty calm and accepting about it all by the time I got home on Sat. night. The fact that its a 1+ hour trip one way provides plenty of time for quiet reflection. It also provides opportunities to go 100 mph with the stereo way too loud on Sunday morning @ O-dark-thirty, but those are other stories for other times...
Sunday started out with more of the same, and yet still calm about my happenstance.
And then.....after the first round on Sunday (round 4), Sir Jonathan Hawkwoode had to withdraw.
All I could think was, "Waiter! Check please! My ride is here!". But again, try to imagine the cold hard feeling in the pits of my guts at this turn of events. Sir Jon is me dear friend, and I did not want to benefit from his tribulation, but I was specifically ordered to put those thoughts far away and focus on the task-set at hand. Good advice, and thank you yet again, my dear Earl William (Roy Cox). You are indeed wise in the ways of the world, my liege.
I rode Chancellor, who is bloody huge! His trot is so huge that I actually injured my throat when I came down hard once on the exit lap and the bottom of my breastplate landed hard on the saddle horn and drove my gorgie into the right side of my throat. Hard. It felt like I had been hit in the bare neck with a rebated sword. Blast, Bugger and DAMN but that sucker was sore Sat. night!
I was frequently aiming down at my opponents and that adds yet another layer of complication to an already admittedly complicated sport. Every time I mount up it seems like I learn tons of new things. (This is a really exciting time in my life, to say the least!)
I got past the height thing in my first match by targeting the head of my noble opponent, none other than Sir 'The' Barchan. I broke 3 tips and scored a touch -w- the 4th for a total of 10 points. All 4 of them, right in his face.
The round was Northern Italian, so the head was a legal target. It didn't help that my borrowed helmet had a piece of slipped padding partially obscuring the left ocular, limiting my target acquisition. I can remember being asked right afterwards about my choice of targets and replying "his head was the only target I could really see". I also really like the aftermath trajectory of the lance as opposed to that of a body shot. What that means in English (ok, 'Murrican then) is that the lance takes a more favorable trajectory after initial impact. The head shot tends to make the lance skip up and out instead of down and/or across, making it much easier to recover control of it in time to hand it off safely to the very brave squire who has to catch them as we come screaming in for a landing at the end of the pass. B.C. (chuckle, for he is truly old) said that it was ok, that he liked his sturdy hemlet (sp. heehee) and that he could hardly tell that I was nailing him right in the beak. Bravo, oh gentle Sir!
I have never felt so focused in a match before. I attribute this to my having to contemplate my rambunctious skillet-headed self and my position in the world while I watched my mates play the clobber-clobber games without me. My motivational method in my last tourney in May (2005) was to get Dar to say extremely rude and personal insults to me and piss me off good and hard while he armored me up. Then I was good and angry by my appointed time of honorable combat. Think 'the stapler guy character from Office Space in the movie Dodgeball who gets pissed off and wins the game'. Primitive, I freely admit, but honestly knew of no other way back then to muster the passion to face these world champions in open combat, in their format of expertise. That is just plain scary shite, no matter what kind of sugar-sparklies you try and coat it with. Your mileage may vary, but I doubt it...
In my second match on Sunday, I faced Sir Steven of Calgary. Yes, as in Canada. This noble gentleman rocked the living shite out of me in the very first pass, and done with great panache. I could see the glittering in his eyes as he did it, and could not suppress my own in-helmet grins in response. In fact, he rocked me so bloody hard that it drove the vamplate pieces into his arm armor and locked the lance onto his arm.
Dangerous, as the lance catching squire can pull you right off the horse by mistake if you cannot release the lance quick enough once he grabs it. Or the squire can go for a bit of a drag (off his feet) if he Knight is stronger or bigger than him (or her). We were lucky, and that did not happen. That but it apparently screwed up his armor, and I had to sit for what seemed like forever after each pass while they put him back together. I decided that sitting quietly –w- Chancellor at the end of the list, lance in hand, is an interesting place to have time to actually think interesting thoughts, if only for a few moments. The second and third passes were lackluster, as he was riding my mount's brother, Mighty-Mighty Malakai, and they tend to dodge out of the impact point out of mutual love and respect. On the 4th pass, I returned the love he gave me on the first one to end the round. He didn't fall but it felt bloody good to get a full-on stick on this noble opponent, if only just the one time.
I look forward to seeing him again soon, as he is a very decent chap, a good rider and a noble gentleman. Raidar Goddard was with him, and she too is a fabulously interesting person. They invited us to their next tourney @ the Calgary Stampede in June 2006, and Barchan, Chris and I agreed to participate. HOOTIE HOO!!! In Friendship, for Glory and Honor, Lay ON! Yes, Gentle Reader, it does appear that there is a new adventure soon to be embarked upon, should God in his infinite Grace will that it be so.
On Monday, it was Free Style and that means augmentation plates and big, big hits for all.
I went 3 rounds this wonderful day. In the first round (2pm) I faced none other than Ripper Moore. The Reaper. Our style was Plankengestecht, (my favorite) which is a large breast augmentation with a built-in demi-buff and flange. I don’t remember much more than surviving,
and feeling a good hit where I caught him on the demi-buff and broke my first lance ever in my life!
I have broken lots of tips but never a shaft up to then. Ripper said it was a solid hit, and from him that means something because he usually says he doesn’t feel much from an average pass. Plus it hurt my hand.
Round 2 (4pm) was against Sir Martino Fernandez, the Spaniard. Paul is my good friend and training partner in real life and it was fun to face him in tourney again. Our style was Welshgestecht, which is a smooth grande-garde with large buff. Like up to your nose large of a buff. 4 decent passes with me delivering at least one big hit, per his admission. I knew it was a decent shot as again, it hurt my hand, and from the crowd's pitch. His shots were all decent and I think he scored well. and so it should be! I am honored that he has seen fit to call me friend. 'Bout all I gots to say about that right now.
Round 3 (6pm, The Grand Finale) was against Sir James Gray. Our style was Realgestecht, which is a gridded grande-garde with the uber-large buff (again). He zapped me pretty good in the first pass. A touch for him and a wiff for me in the 2nd pass, about which Sir James later remarked, that his Zen had come to him and he had the perfect pass. He said that I gigged my spurs at the last second and zoomed out of his crosshairs. I replied that my Celtic Ninja senses were all tingly-like and that I had decided to be elsewhere instead of exploring his Zen –w- him. I scored zero points for that pass but by today, that looks like the best way it could have gone for me. Sir James had had a kick-ass set of passes –w- the Reaper earlier
and I knew I had a bull by the horns when facing him. Jimmy has come a long way in the 5 years I have had the honor of his acquaintance, and has taught me a thing or 2 about perseverance in the process. 
In the third pass, my Zen came to me and I clobbered the shite out of him right in the middle of his grande-garde. He admitted later that it was a good shot, and the noise the crowd made had told me the rest. WHEE! In the 4th pass, I about jumped out of the saddle to try and reach him as my mount dodged wide. That was the closest I had come to being unhorsed all weekend. And I am SOOO glad it didn’t go down that way, as it would have been massively embarrassing, to say the least.
I came in last but who bloody cares! I go to play with the big boyz again and survived more or less intact again. And I HAD FUN LIKE GANGBUSTERS!!! My right hand is sore but not such that I cannot enter the lists again this weekend. And so I shall, if the Good Lord wills it.
I like that the tourney was on Labor Day, the crowds were large and enthusiastic, and the weather was perfect, if a tad hot in the sun in the armor. The after party was intimate and fun, we are one big relatively happy dysfunctional family, when all the dust and fur finally settles.
SCA-wise I got to visit (however briefly) -w- Squire Gunter and some other Caer Mear thugz, THL Lady Brenna and her husband Sir (oh crap I forgot his name again - I am such a frickin obtuse block head sometimes) and their friends. There are others but my memory is quite full and so apoligiez to all whom I failed to mention. Or forgot your bloody name for the umpteenth time. I also heard some shouts of "ANGLESEY" at different points from the audience and so a deeply felt thanks goes out to all of you who came out and endured the crowds and the sun and the dust to cheer me on. I love you all.
I remarked to C. just last night that I positively still love to raptly watch the maestro, Mr. Roy Cox’s every single pass. I watch every detail that my shrunken and wrinkly little brain can take in whenever he enters the Lists. Just last night it occurred to me while I watched him make his final passes to win the Tourney, that I have never seen more technically perfect passes anywhere in my life. He knocked the stuffing out of Ripper in the last pass of Realgesctecht (last pass of the tourney) but Rip sat it this time (but he damn sure was all over the saddle),
unlike when the exact same scenario presented itself in May @ TennRenn, where Ripper went down so hard I found myself making the sign-of-the-cross and praying for him as fast as my black and wizened little heart could handle. I am incredibly thankful that I have people like these in my life and that I have had the opportunity to joust -w- the likes of Kate Cox, Roy Cox and Ripper Moore in my time. Now to try and add Shane Adams, Lloyd Clark, Rod Walker & Callum Forbes and Matthew Manseur to really feel complete. Oh yeah and Fred Pireaux. And Hollis Hale. Especially Hollis Hale (but all friendly-like, of course). I don’t hate Hollis, I just want to lay some solid stick on him, should I be worthy that day that it be so. And I haven't forgotten about you either, Mike England. You are the final entry on my list.
I am also grateful that I got to experience Bear as a person and as a combat mount before he passed onwards, as he too had some things to teach me. God save him and keep him, I missed him this weekend. ::gettin' misty now, dammitt:: This is a pic of me on Bear in Feb. 2005 @ FLARF (riding 4th pos).
Ok so back the day-job work. Time to pay some bills.
See you @ Faire this weekend, in Friendship, for Glory and Honor!
God save and keep you all, gentle souls.
L8
