Roland Cooke told us last weekend at WACCon in Seattle that he'd be in Chicago for the week, so Nate and I resolved to organize a game in his honor. Ater work Monday night, Nate posted the game on Meetup. For its title, he turned to Medieval literature: "The Song of Roland." The name worked. Within 12 hours--a club record--Game No. 234 was full.
"The Song of Roland" is an epic poem about one of Charlemagne's knights whose rearguard was ambused by a Muslim army. Vastly outnumbered, the knight, Roland, leads a valiant defense, all the while refusing to blow his powerful horn to summon Charlemagne's main host. Finally--and here's a spoiler alert--with his men dead and he the last Frank standing, Roland blows the horn with such great force that his temples burst.
Our run of eight games in eight weeks came to end yesterday with our first ever game in Hyde Park. Fortunately, the run ended after the game. Earlier in the day, it looked like there wouldn't be one.
The trouble started at around 9:30 a.m. when Kevin O'Kelly texted to say he was delayed at work and wouldn't be able to make it till noon. By 11:40, he had pushed his arrival back to 12:30.
To compound matters, at that point, 40 minutes after the scheduled game start, we still hadn't heard from one of the other players. And since that player had bailed on a bar game earlier in the season, we scrambled to find a replacement.
Everything went Matt Sundstrom's way in Spring 1901, as evidenced by the look on his face.
When the Germans opened to Holland instead of Denmark, the right side of Matt's mouth curled slightly upward. As the Turk moved Ankara to Constantinople and Smyrna to Ankara, the other side joined in, forming a full-fledged smile. And when the Austrians ordered his Home Guard in Vienna to Trieste instead of Galicia, I swear you could see Matt's teeth. Throw in Italy's moves to Tyrolia and Venice, and Matt had to fight back the evil laughter.
Your average Russian player would feel pretty good about an opening like that. Matt is no average player.
Tony Prokes topped his second board of the season Saturday at Matt Sundstrom's home in Glenview, making it two for two. He's now in fifth place.
Three players made their Season Nine debuts in Game No. 231: Royale contestant Brad Harrington, and Season One vets Paul Pignotti and Andy Lischett. For Lischett, the longtime publisher of the postal Diplomacy zine Cheesecake, the game was his first league outing since March 2010. He also played at Weasel Moot VII in June.
Game No. 231 ended in Spring 1909 in the following center counts:
O come, O come, Emmanuel,
And ransom captive Israel,
That mourns in lonely exile here
Until the Son of God appear.
Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.
Last week at the Lion, Nate Cockerill suggested that we organize a holiday party for the Weasels. Josh Heffernan, always the voice of reason and still basking in his triumphant return to the table, pointed out that it was a little late in the season to throw a party together. So instead, we settled on another bar game.
Josh Heffernan, the self-proclaimed People's Champion, showed us why the moniker fits last night at the Red Lion in Lincoln Square.
Playing Italy, Heffernan spent the first two years in a boxer's stance, ready to strike at any opportunity. When he finally threw a punch at France in Spring 1903, the stab was so perfectly timed that he was able to walk into Marseilles and Spain unopposed in the Fall. By game's end in 1906, players were lining up to help him take centers.
On our drive up to WolfCon last weekend, Matt Kade talked about the robustness of our club, both in terms of the quantity of the games and quality of the play.
"I tell my friends about the club, and they don't get what a big deal it is to pull off two or three games a month," he said. "It's not easy to find seven players."
Then he paused to reflect on his performance with the Weasels since joining the club at CODCon last April. "I'd like to top a board," he said. "I don't think I've finished with more than six centers."
St. Patrick would have appreciated the irony. We played our 227th game on the second floor of the Irish-American Heritage Center on the city's north side, right between a pair of statues honoring the patron saint of Ireland. Both statues depicted a tangle of snakes at his feet, celebrating the legend that he had banished them from Ireland. And there we were.
Myth Chaser Nate Cockerill nearly found the fabled Board of the Valkyries last Thursday at the Red Lion in Lincoln Square. While he fell short of the all-female board, Nate set a Weasel record by persuading three members of the fairer sex to join us for a game of Diplomacy.
Game No. 226 got off to a late start due to a no-show. Fortunately, Nate was able to coax a third woman to the table to salvage the evening. Due to the late start, the players managed only four game-years. The game ended after the Fall 1904 turn in the following center counts: