These key indicators will help you judge you playing abilities, your equipment status and the quality of your paintball life in general. The general rule of thumb is that if three statements apply to your situation, then it is established fact.
YOU KNOW YOU'VE BEEN PLAYING FAR TOO MUCH PAINTBALL (and really need to get a life) WHEN . . .
YOU KNOW YOU'RE A ROYAL PAIN IN THE BUTT WHEN . . .
YOU KNOW YOU'RE HAVING A BAD DAY WHEN . . .
YOU KNOW YOU'RE A "LESS THAN ETHICAL" PLAYER WHEN . . .
YOU KNOW YOU'RE A PAINTBALL GOD WHEN . . .
YOU KNOW YOU'RE GETTING TOO OLD TO PLAY PAINTBALL WHEN . . .
YOU KNOW YOU SHOULDN'T BUY THAT PARTICULAR SECOND HAND PAINTMARKER WHEN . . .
YOU KNOW YOU'VE GOT BAD PAINT WHEN . . .
YOU KNOW YOU'RE HAVING PAINTMARKER PROBLEMS WHEN . . .
YOU KNOW YOU REALLY SUCK WHEN . . .
YOU KNOW YOU'RE PARTICIPATING IN THE TOURNAMENT FROM HELL WHEN . . .
YOU KNOW YOU'VE BEEN PLAYING FAR TOO MUCH PAINTBALL (and really need to get a life) WHEN . . .
. . . your significant other asks you for ID before you're allowed in the house.
. . . you have one specific room in your place of abode, dedicated to keeping all your paintball stuff, your living room.
. . . you think about paintball during sex.
. . . you think about sex during paintball.
. . . the words "sex" and "paintball" are interchangeable in your vocabulary
. . . you don't talk to your significant other anymore, you talk to their lawyer.
. . . when you get hit by something tossed at you, your immediate response is to yell, "Bounce -- No break!"
. . . no matter what store you're in, you always look for something you can use for paintball.
. . . no matter what store you're in, you always find something you can use for paintball.
. . . any famous paintball personage is seen as a god in your eyes.
. . . every bit of your disposable income is spent on paintball stuff, even if you don't need it.
. . . you write for a paintball publication.
. . . you call yourself the "world's most famous" anything.
. . . you end you articles with some type of motto or slogan.
YOU KNOW YOU'RE A ROYAL PAIN IN THE BUTT WHEN . . .
. . . you usually eat lunch alone.
. . . you get shot in the back, by your team mates, every game (by mistake, of course).
. . . you get separated from your team far too often to mark it down as mere coincidence.
. . . your teammates routinely point you out to the opposition.
. . . no one comes to help you out of a bad situation. To make it worse, your team stands there and watches you get hosed, cheering the entire time.
. . . your team captain can ever seem to remember to call you with the team's game dates.
. . . all of a sudden no one has a squeegee, tank o-ring, paint rag or what-ever-you-need, even though you just saw them with one moments ago.
. . . when everyone else has a paintmarker problem the whole team will miss a game to help them. When your paintmarker does down they all say they'll help you after this next game (for every game).
. . . you find out that the only guy who has time for you does so because he feels sorry for "people like you".
. . . you think everyone else is a royal pain in the butt, for the way they "mistreat" you.
YOU KNOW YOU'RE HAVING A BAD DAY WHEN . . .
. . . you remembered to bring all your barrels, parts kit, tools and velocity adjuster, but somehow forgot your paintmarker.
. . . you are at the local field (as a walk-on) and the field owner says you have to "down-gun" because he doesn't condone newbie bashing. He hands you a rusted, 10 year old, Nelspot 007 (with no pump). The newbies are armed with field rental semis.
. . . the field owner doesn't have a chronograph, so in order to check your paintmarker's velocity, you have to shoot yourself in the hand while a ref watches you. If you flinch, or bleed, you have to turn your paintmarker down and try again.
. . . you show up as a walk-on and the only group that will take you is a bunch of tournament teams "initiating" new members.
. . . the field staff are running around picking paint off the ground and dropping them into "zip-lock" baggies. You hear one of them say, "I hate when we run out of paint."
. . . you've cut so many coils off your hammer spring (to try to reduce your velocity) that it now resembles a lock washer.
. . . no matter what you do, no matter how fine the adjustment, you can only get two velocities: 110 and 325 and nowhere in between.
. . . every time someone says, "It's gonna be a good day for paintball", they get struck by lightning.
. . . in camp, you pull your goggles on to check them out. You complain about how dirty and scratched the lenses are, until someone points out that there are no lenses in your goggles.
YOU KNOW YOU'RE A "LESS THAN ETHICAL" PLAYER WHEN . . .
. . . the Ultimate Judge handcuffs a ref to you before the game starts.
. . . people are surprised when you actually call yourself out when they hit you.
. . . an internationally known wiping technique bears your name, it is known as the "(your name) manoeuvre".
. . . your team is automatically assessed with penalty points, at the first of the day -- catching you is only considered a formality.
. . . not even the sleaziest, most disreputable, money grubbing weasel will sponsor you, because it would be bad for his reputation.
. . . the refs routinely stop the game and frisk you for tools.
. . . you're not known as the worst cheater in the world, you're known as the BEST cheater in the world.
YOU KNOW YOU'RE A PAINTBALL GOD WHEN . . .
. . . you only need to carry one paintball for each player on the opposing team.
. . . you hear a lot of "Oh my God, it's him!" as players are running away.
. . . in a five man tournament, your team is only allowed three players, when you're playing.
. . . a bad day is when you get under 80 opposing eliminations, miss grabbing the flag once, and almost get hit by a paintball.
. . . you can smell paint coming.
. . . IF someone eliminates you:
a.they're carried off the field on the other players' shoulders;
b.a statue in their honour is erected outside city hall;
c.your team automatically gives up; and/or
d.the game stops, right then and there, and everyone packs up and goes home, because there is NO WAY that anyone else is going to top that!.
. . . the opposition just hands you their flag in the morning and goes home.
. . . any tournament your team is in:
a.you are immediately put in first place in the standings (with full points for maxxing all the team you will be up against that day);
b.a booth is set up in the dealer's tent, so people can come by and actually touch you;
c.the trophy is already engraved with your team's name, because playing is only considered a formality.
YOU KNOW YOU'RE GETTING TOO OLD TO PLAY PAINTBALL WHEN . . .
. . . anyone under the age of 25 is considered a "kid".
. . . you start stories with, "Well, back when I first started playing paintball . . .".
. . . you hand the flag off to someone else, because you know if you run it in, you'll have to play defense for the rest of the day (or require immediate medical attention).
. . . you decide you might as well start specializing in stealthy, lone wolf tactics, because you can't keep up with the other players, in the first place.
. . . the Nelspot 007 on your hip (the first paintmarker you ever bought) is older than some of the players at the field.
. . . you remember team names like Navarone and Gang Green
. . . you don't run, and you make no excuses for it and look on anyone else who runs as "an idiot".
. . . you know, for a fact, that a Budd Orr Sniper is NOT a pump action version of the Autococker, but THE OTHER WAY AROUND.
. . . there are oil based paint stains on your cammies.
. . . your first aid kit contains Geritol, antacids and/or some type of "deep heat" liniment.
. . . you wait to see if the newest gadgets REALLY WORK before you actually buy one.
. . . you always check to see if the field staff's CPR training is up-to-date.
. . . you don't eat the field lunch because you know you'll spend the afternoon in the outhouse.
YOU KNOW YOU SHOULDN'T BUY THAT PARTICULAR SECOND HAND PAINTMARKER WHEN . . .
. . . the paintmarker is engraved with the name "Bob" and everyone is calling the seller "Dave".
. . . the paintmarker is a dull grey, because all the anodizing is worn off, and the seller says its a "polished" finish.
. . . it appears to be several components of DIFFERENT paintmarkers fixed together with stove bolts.
. . . there are more holes in the paintmarker than there logically should be.
. . . its finish has been redone with a brush and house paint.
. . . The serial number is ground off and the guy selling it is looking nervously around.
. . . the inside of the barrel looks like it was honed with a fist-full of nails.
. . . the person selling it is the fifteenth owner.
. . . the person selling it won't let you touch it until money has changed hands.
. . . there is paint oozing out of every opening, including the C/A adaptor.
. . . there is at least a half a pound of silver duct tape on the paintmarker and the seller says its there for "camouflage".
YOU KNOW YOU'VE GOT BAD PAINT WHEN . . .
. . . you see someone accidentally drop a full case and it bounces over a van and continues to bounce across the parking lot.
. . . the balls break when you pour them into your loader.
. . . they corkscrew, hook and veer left or right, in the case.
. . . they bounce off the trees they're shot at, three feet away, and remove an unhealthy amount of bark and wood.
. . . the fill is so thick, it retains its shape, even after the ball breaks.
. . . every bag of 100 come with a free barrel swab from the manufacturer.
. . . a three hundred round loader only holds one hundred when it's full.
. . . like snow flakes; no two are alike.
. . . the manufacturer's recommendations on the case advise that you carry paper towels, rags, a good squeegee and lots of clean swabs when you play.
. . . even at 220 feet per second the impacts cause compound fractures.
. . . there seems to be some type of fungus growing in the fill.
. . . there are large, boot toe sized holes in the case.
. . . the only thing that isn't broken is the seal on the case.
. . . it smells like cat urine.
. . . the brand name on the case is covered over by a sticker of a crudely drawn competitor's logo.
YOU KNOW YOU'RE HAVING PAINTMARKER PROBLEMS WHEN . . .
. . . you pull the trigger and it goes klunk instead of pop and paint dribbles out of the barrel.
. . . you pull the trigger and it goes KAPOW instead of pop and the recoil breaks every ball in your loader.
. . . it fires, even though it's sitting on the bench, all by itself.
. . . you pull the trigger and it fires, and continues to do so until you can frantically unscrew the tank.
. . . the bolt makes a loud, bone-numbing grinding sound when you cock it back, and stays there.
. . . you screw the tank on and snow blasts out the of barrel.
. . . you screw the tank on and snow blasts out of every opening in the paintmarker.
. . . you screw the tank on and nothing happens. Nothing at all.
. . . your first shot fires o-rings, springs, screws and small bits of metal out the barrel.
. . . it spontaneously catches fire.
. . . at the chrono station the first shot reads "003", the second reads "297", the third reads "126" and the fourth reads "TILT".
. . . newbies laugh at you and say they're glad they have a ten year old, field rental Nelspot.
YOU KNOW YOU REALLY SUCK WHEN . . .
. . . you're so harmless the opposing team uses you as cover, like a tree.
. . . you get eliminated so early, every game, that you don't bother buying paint and air.
. . . in a five man tournament, your team is allowed 6 players when you're playing. (What's worse, other teams don't seem to mind.)
. . . a good day is when you actually see a player who shot you.
. . . you have to have protective armour, on the back of your head.
. . . it's hard for other people to tell when you're having a bad day.
. . . the local field owner lets you play for free, because you spend more time in camp than on the playing field.
. . . newbies (who shouldn't know any better, and are impressed with anyone who even OWNS a paintmarker) think you suck and don't want you on their team.
. . . you're referred to as the "Forrest Gump of Paintball".
. . . not even the highest hi-tech gizmos help you; in fact, they make you worse than before.
. . . you think reading my tactics articles will make you a better player. (Kinda pathetic, when you think about it.)
YOU KNOW YOU'RE PARTICIPATING IN THE TOURNAMENT FROM HELL WHEN . . .
. . . the tournament sponsor, paint sponsor, field owner, ultimate judge and home team captain are the same person.
. . . the tournament paint just happens to be clear shell with a clear fill and, coincidentally, by the time the home team gets around to getting their paint, the field has run out of that colour (?) and the home team has to "settle" for bright orange with extra thick fill.
. . . one team's mascot is a live, non-descented skunk that is left to roam freely around the staging area.
. . . you always seem to get the flag station with the hornet's nest.
. . . the refs ask you what kind of paintmarker you have, you tell them its an Automag, and they say, "we've never seen one before today, it is new?".
. . . in order to secure good placements in the final standings, one team has so many squads in the tournament they've run out of normal colours to differentiate them, and they're up to Mean Team Midnight Indigo.
. . . the refs are all wearing Charles Manson t-shirts and call themselves "the Family".
. . . it's an international tournament and the teams have one of the following words in their names: nationalist, front, people's or liberation.
. . . you really see the true meaning of "home field advantage" when they have one ref ( for the whole team) and you have five refs (for each member of your team).
. . . the refs are carrying clubs and stun guns onto the field.
. . . the list of punishments for infractions include (but are not limited to), flogging, keel-hauling, life imprisonment and death.
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