the joy of local-level competitive smash

is finding yourself locked in an epic mental war spanning several sets with some random banjo player in some random city in washington on some random sunday night for like $70 with a live audience and a stream and your getaway car parked in the handicap spot outside.

And your opponent turns out to be a really nice guy, and then months later you leave your headphones at a tournament and he picks them up for you and keeps them in his car, and then his car gets stolen and your headphones die with him.

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