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07 Aug 2006, 7:50 pm / Other
"10 seconds Your team is all around you. You'd trust these people with your life. 9 seconds Your marker is in your hands; you control it. It won't laugh at you, won't look down on you. 8 seconds Pods are filled, hoppers loaded. 7 seconds You're focused. There is nothing else but now. The world outside of the field seems to dissolve. 6 seconds You know where everyone is going, you know where you are going; you and your team are connected, are one. 5 seconds You can't do this alone, everyone is in it for everyone else. There is no hero, only heroes. 4 seconds Your heart starts pounding, you dig your cleats into the dirt and lower your head... 3 seconds This is what it's all about. This is what you live for, breath for. 2 seconds Every waking moment is spent anticipating what is about to come... 1 second No turning back. With all your heart and soul you play, like nothing else matters. This is no sport. This is no sinking a ball into a hole in the ground, or tackling another player. This is a way of life. This is about an inner challenge. To work together, relying on yourself and your teammates. Without one another you are nothing. There is no victory with out the team. You see your opponent down field. You both have the same goal, the same respect for each other. A split second means the difference between staying around another few crucial minutes to strengthen your team or getting out, weakening the team. Use your head. This is not something for the slow-witted. Anyone can play. Anyone with heart, dedication, determination, bravery, focus, and intent. This is what we live for. This is our passion. Our way of life. When we work, every single dime we can spare goes toward our chosen way of life. Every dime brings us closer to another chance to go out and live. To play. To simply be whom we are. Go ahead. Call me obsessed. My obsession reaches farther than you can imagine. This is my lifeblood. I eat, sleep, and breathe for a chance to play one more day. This is beyond obsession. This is who I am. My passion, my life. Our obsession, Our love. I am a Paintballer. We are a team. Paintball is our FUCKING life." --(S)Aint kevin
THIS HAS TO BE ONE OT THE BEST THINGS WRITTEN!!...THIS IS MY LIFE!
" You gas up the marker... put on the mask...walk on the field...it doesn't matter that you got a ticket on the way there...it doesn't matter that you and your girlfriend got in a fight last night...all that matters is now....that you are in your own heaven right now for these few hours....Paintball For Life"
"Emotion, skill, talent and experience are not enough. For the players and teams performing on our sports highest stages it takes the drive to win, the drive to perform, the drive to succeed on the toughest days of their lives... everything comes down to that one day... Sunday Drivers.
"We're not in it for the money, or the fame. The girls, sex and drugs don't come to us, like other professional sports. We play day-in day-out, sun rise to sun set, sunny or rainy; because we love to play. People question us for our devotion, our obsession to this weird sport; a sport they see as a hobby. It doesn't matter what they think; we play because we love to, because we were born to be a pro paintball athlete."
"When I play paintball it feels like for once I get to forget about all the other shit and problems in life. It's worth everything, the money, people thinking what the fuck is wrong with me. Because whenever I play I don't have to worry about any shit, I just play my game and let the adrenaline pump through my body. Paintball is my heaven on earth, my serenity, it's my moment away from all the problems. This is why I fucking paintball."
"It happens on a random Monday. Coming back from an event or late on a Sunday night, right before you get on the plane and you're about to be frisked for the third time. Your driving...your flying....you're sitting in an airport seat with boys from the team. Your drinking stale coffee trying to stay awake. You're explaining a fat welt on the side of your neck to a confused stranger or a best friend.....or running through the sidewalk at LAX trying to catch a plane. You're coming back to the other life....the one without paintball. Where no one understands why you do it....you're tired....working off little sleep and a question creeps up and you try to ignore it. Why do I do this? Why the travel? Why the losses? The missed work...the missed school...hours of practice, and the complaining girl friend....because the lure of living a paintball life is just too potent and the products of the road, the travel, are memories forever and trips and strange lands with stranger people. At tournaments it feels like for once you get to live as loud as you want. Its worth the sacrifices....it's worth all the bullshit. Because if you work hard enough, a Sunday will roll around and you'll be in the huddle...screaming.....with your hand in....one among ten playing for the world title and suddenly all those cliches you've ever heard make sense and you are defined. You say it to yourself and it means everything, I am a paintball player and this moment right here is my life."
Tournament paintball is not a game; it is the culmination of sacrifices of people's lives.
Life=Pain, Pain=Paintball. According to the law of substitution, Paintball=Life.
OTHER FRIENDS: Never ask for food
PAINTBALL FRIENDS: Are the reason you have no food.
OTHER FRIENDS: Call your parents Mr. and Mrs.
PAINTBALL FRIENDS: Call your parents mom and dad.
OTHER FRIENDS: Bail you out of jail and tell you what you did was wrong.
PAINTBALL FRIENDS: Would be sitting next to you saying, Damn...we fucked up...but that shit was fun!"
OTHER FRIENDS: Borrow your stuff for a few days then give it back.
PAINTBALL FRIENDS: Keep your stuff so long they forget it's yours.
OTHER FRIENDS: know a few things about you.
PAINTBALL FRIENDS: Could write a book with direct quotes from you.
OTHER FRIENDS: Will leave you behind if that's what the crowd is doing.
PAINTBALL FRIENDS: Will kick the whole crowds ass that left you.
OTHER FRIENDS: Would knock on your door.
PAINTBALL FRIENDS: Walk right in and say, "I'm home!"
OTHER FRIENDS: Are for a while.
PAINTBALL FRIENDS: Are for life.
OTHER FRIENDS: Will take your drink away when they think you've had enough.
PAINTBALL FRIENDS: Will look at you stumbling all over the place and say, "Bitch, you better drink the rest of that."
OTHER FRIENDS: Will talk shit to the person who talks shit about you.
PAINTBALL FRIENDS: Will knock them the fuck out!!
OTHER FRIENDS: Will laugh at you when you get bunkered.
PAINTBALL FRIENDS: Will go bunker the shit out of the person who just bunkered you.
OTHER FRIENDS: Will think your gay if you have to sleep in the same bed with them at a tournament.
PAINTBALL FRIENDS: Will think of how much money they are saving by putting 10 people in 1 room for 3 nights.
OTHER FRIENDS: Will ask for a ride.
PAINTBALL FRIENDS: Will just take your car and bring it back later
THIS IS WHY I PLAY!!!
THIS IS MY LIFE
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