The last time I successfully monetized this trivia bullshit was in the spring of 1990. We could have gotten medals for our third straight county championship, but instead they got us racks of ribs from Dreamland. And that was pretty much it for almost nineteen years.
Three weeks ago we stopped off at Trials for the pub quiz on the Presidents’ Day Monday. We were on the way back from San Juan Batista mission, it was on the way, Whitney was good enough to join us, they have 20 oz pints for $5, why not? And we did the quiz. Now, the wife insists that she had nothing to do with it, but I learned a long time ago that team is team and you don’t throw your crew under the bus unless they shoot you in the face or something similar, and she did come out again once (and would have probably let us win outright if she had been there tonight). Anyway, this is what the Ploughboy Bunnies were good for:
Week 1: won outright
Week 2: won outright
Week 3: tied for most points; lost on shady tiebreak of “number on team” (the other team dropped real quick from 2 to 1)
Week 4: tied for most points; won because the other team had 3 and I was on solo.
Four weeks. Most points every week. The last week, most points in any single tournament week, and I got that solo because the wife had her fluffy book club. Which means naturally that we won the overall title, by a whopping 9 points clear at the top of the table (and producing an audible gasp in the bar when the result was announced).
Total take for the double-fortnight: $120 worth of bar credit, which means that even if you count the cash paid in week 1, the whole expedition ended up paying for itself.
I think I’m going to sit it out for a while until they forget what I look like. Or until I’ve spent some more time at the gym. I am reminded of Ed Byrne’s answer to “You got a problem, mate?” “Yeah. You’re gonna kick the shit outta me.” At the very least, I’m going to come up with a better team name, and I’m scouring the Notre Dame Bookstore Basketball list of rejected names. Nevertheless, the fact remains: nineteen years on, I still got it, and I’ma keep it until they come take it away…or until I have to pawn it for beer money ;]