I Love Beer Pong Bro
Beer pong is a sport in which teams of two compete against each other in a test of accuracy. The aim is to throw a ping-pong ball into one of your opponents’ ten, carefully-arranged cups, which forces them to consume the beverage in that cup. It’s a drinking game.
Most of you know what beer pong is and have probably either played or watched others play at some point in your drinking career. For the sake of brevity we’ll cease the instructional vignette at this point and get down to the point of whatever this is.
Beer pong is said to have originated in the fraternities (just like the ones in the movies) of Ivy League school Dartmouth College sometime in the 1950s or 60s. The game was originally played using paddles but evolved to its current form as it spread around campuses in the US.
Beer Pong is undoubtedly good fun. Just the right mix of rules, required dexterity, opportunity for low grade bullying (banter), and skills that decline with intoxication. In other words, a quality drinking game. It’s no coincidence that the sport has proved popular amongst the scarfie population. Beers? Good. Throwing balls? Good. Drunken competition? Goooooooood.
Fun as it is, I wonder how many keen players have stopped to think about what beer pong represents. To me, beer pong highlights the declining individuality of the Otago experience. Beer pong is the drinking game representation of the importing of American college culture in lieu of something we have created ourselves. NBA singlets, keg stands, flat peaks, the abundance of incorrect handshakes, don’t even get me started on those “Letterman” jackets the Uni is thinking of making. We are taking our cues from the most oafish and socially retarded group of people on the planet: The college “frat boy”.
With irrational bitterness clogging up its frontal lobe, Critic went and had a look at the unofficial Dunedin Beer Pong “Championships”. Let me describe the scene. The Vogel Street venue/flat is a rabbit warren. Stairs run in all directions. God knows how many stories there are. Each room is an alcove or a hideaway. Beer pong, everywhere. Ten games at once. And the stink – oh, the stink. Rumours abound that competitors played with water to stay sober until the later rounds proved unfounded. It was 3:30 in the afternoon (on a Sunday) and everyone was “buzzed”. Zombie-eyed players were shouting, spilling beer, throwing ping-pong balls at cups and having a hell of a time. Some had team uniforms, others hadn’t bothered. An electronic scoreboard; a live stream; it was spectacular carnage. God it looked like fun.
22 teams competed for a specially engraved troph in a round-robin format followed by playoffs. The tournament is primarily a Selwynite tradition. Past winners include widely vilified ex-OUSA President and two-time champion Edwin Darlow (remember him from the Undie 500 riots?). Club members include low-grade Dunedin celebrities Logan Edgar and Dave “3 News” Gooselink; heady stuff.
Both sexes are encouraged to participate but Critic only spotted one brave girl. Such a sausage sizzle left the door wide open for some homoerotic capers, and through that door the boys gleefully charged. Organiser and host Hugo Webb noted that eventual champions AJ and Tom are “known to [kiss, cuddle, whatever] as a distraction,” adding, “girls commonly get their tits out which serves just as well.” Which girls he was referring too was anyone’s guess. Critic’s photographer was particularly taken aback by the man-love on display. “It was weird, they seemed completely comfortable with what they were doing, like that’s normal where they come from.”
The “Championships” didn’t get finished until well after Critic’s bedtime, so here is Hugo’s official tournament report. “The final table slam dunk by the victors was a great way to end the night. The double cup bounce shot was prevalent throughout, which always makes for some exciting pong. Some great rebuttals made tournaments for some, but for others the pong Gods weren’t smiling. Well done to AJ and Tom who ended up champions.”