To answer your question, "every foosball table is the best table". If you are playing on a table, and the surface is slick- its slick for the other guys too. The foosballs aren't brand new? They aren't for the other guys as well. When I see some crybaby pusscake losing a game and crying about the table, I always think something along the lines of this-
Armageddon begins. The shit is hitting the fan. Meteors are blowing shit up, and half the planets population is about to eat shit. An immediate case study begins on foosball players around the globe. After the dust settles, the article is released for all to read. It followed 3 different types of foosers going through the Armageddon. Here's what it read...
There were 3 different types of players, described below...
1. Foosball players that play on different tables, tables that have a defect, etc- they battle on the table and still win. These players will be referred to as the Lions. King of the jungle, they whip your ass then hug you to make you feel ok with the defeat.
2. Foosball players that accept different tables or playing conditions, battle their asses off without complaint, sometimes losing as an effect of the different table conditions...these are the leopards. They go into battle every time, with expectations to win, and become way better players in a shorter timeline.
3. Foosball players that lose a wall pass on a table, and throw themselves onto the floor into fetal position, sucking their thumb while crying out "the bumpers are too new!!!!" These players are the pussycats, or pussys. 2nq'ing even on perfect tornado tables then blaming it on the color of the carpet.
To be continued...
The study showed that the Lion players highjacked cars, broke into gun racks and supplies stores, drove 100mph on the freeway to reach a small airfield where they HotWired planes and flew their families to a safe location. Survival rate- 100%.
The Leopards made it almost to the end of this same trek, some being successful, others succumbed to a last second crater opening in the earth as they were hotwiring the plane.
The pussycats? Half of them slipped on a banana peel in the driveway, twisting their ankles and crying on the pavement as they burned to death. The other half thought the meteors were too big on the news and didn't even step out of the front door, claiming "the conditions weren't perfect for an escape from doom".
The end.
Sincerely,
Boogie
$30,000 Warrior Rocky Mountain Classic USTSA Open Doubles champion
Edited by user Saturday, January 18, 2014 6:37:30 PM(UTC)
| Reason: Not specified
