Traditionally, popular drinking games are split into two categories – those that focus on skill (baseball, beer chess, etc.) and those that simply need a keg (hockey, power hour, etc.)*. Caps is the rare breed of game that places utmost importance on both. Unlike its counterfeit contemporary Beer Pong, a game of caps does not result in the consumption of a finite amount of beer and competitively riveting games have required upwards of a thirty-pack of Booch Light. Moreover, to achieve success at Beer Pong you need about as much skill as a lobster handed virgin trying to unhook his first bra.Caps remains altogether a special breed of drinking game; a competitive player must employ the Novocain-like end-over-end throwing technique and hone their game with hours of practice. Additionally, if you don’t have a beer gut – or haven’t unknowingly pissed on room full of people - you probably aren’t ready to handle the rigorous drinking aspects of the game.
The aforementioned combination of hand-eye coordination and beer-guzzling prowess makes the game uniquely competitive and has inspired the establishment of the Mid-Michigan Caps Circuit (MMCC) and the annual East Lansing Caps Championship (ELCC). June 2, 2007 marked the 2nd annual ELCC and ringers flocked to EL from places as far as Frisco, DC and Louisville.
The festivities kicked off with a pre-tournament BBQ and Chef Kelly strategically cleared the house with some fierce Habenero sautéing. Once the air’s toxicity level had returned to breathable, the brackets were graphically constructed, teams united, and seedings drawn. With a total of 10 teams, the competition was stacked; forcing two play-in games. In one such game we had our first taste of semi-drama: trailing 9-2 – Future Hos Wifey (FHW) still hadn’t made a shot. According to the tournament rules (see attached) this transgression must be paid in the form of a naked run through the host neighborhood. The House was abuzz with the thought of pre-bridal titties floppin’. Sadly, the boners were halted as FHW stepped up and drilled the biggest shot of her adult life. However, FHW and Mr. Reddy proved to be an ill-fated team when they allowed 10 straight points in their next game. Celebrations occurred, chants were created, and once again chubbies sprouted up like spring lilies. Alas, those chubbies were twice thwarted when Husband-to-be Hos – fearing for the safety of FHW – defined the term “man” and bore her cross. Hos joined Mr. Reddy in the traditional tube-sock garb and together they made magical nude poetry complete with high-knee gallops around the light pole (unfortunately you will not see pictures of this on the Internet - I've seen them but you wont).
Hos’ chivalry proved to bring him great Karma, as he and his partner J (the physical embodiment of Tyler Hansborough, with the spirit of John Starks) tore through the competition. On the ropes only once – in the semifinals, Hos ended Byrd’s threat of a game winner with a double, and J Starks came through with some subsequent daggers of his own.
The finals proved to be a snooze fest as an overmatched Sammy and Barsie played from behind, never causing a stir. Money was paid out ($120 each for the winning team) and increasingly expensive cash games became the new mode of competitive expression.
By this time, two kegs lay empty and only the true heavyweights remained. Dubs and Nate (donning a sick Ken Griffey Jr. batting jersey), still reeling from an embarrassing premature tournament exit, evoked the power of Indigo Montoya calling on father to “guide their swords”. After forcing Kenney to join Reddy and Hos in the annals of tournament naked runs, Dubs and Nate built a steam of momentum and stayed steadily rollin’ rocks. In the end, Dubs and Nate left casa de Hosler with a combined $670 (including all of the tournament winnings) from Sammy, Kenney, Byrd, J and Hos.
The oft ridiculed uber-team lost the tournament but in the end they won at life. Until next year…
*Stay tuned to see these featured in our Drinking Game of the Week column.
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