Beer-Pong through College-Colored Glasses

     It is the noblest tradition among those entering the latter years of education to undertake a pilgrimage in quest of knowledge divine and extracurricular. These pilgrimages are said to be fraught with peril, and often end in shame; but to those sturdy enough to complete the journey to frat house, their neighbor's up the street, or perhaps even their own living room, questions may be asked of sage Players older and wiser than themselves: "What is Beer-Pong? Whence does it come? By what codes and precepts do its participants abide? Can I just sit out this first round and watch?" And if the proselyte presents himself with obsequious, trembling humility, answers may be given.
     "Beer-pong is the Eternal Game; the game of our roommates and of their roommates before them; the passage from innocence and youth into manhood; and the substance of life. Its origin is unknown, lost to the chaotic drunk that its own creation birthed. It's rules are lewd, numerous, and relative. And you have no choice but to sit out and watch the first round; you aren't even on the list."
     As the initiate takes his place as spectator, waiting the interminable duration to his virgin game, he will see and hear many things unknown to him. He is as a nestling watching its mother fly for its first time. He observes acts that are unexplainable and imagines sensations beyond his experience, all with the growing excitement that he, too, will soon become part of this fantastic alien world. He sees giants of unmatched proportions bearing the weight of monstrous distended bellies, flinging, with the utmost delicacy, opal spiraling spheres. He sees steezy sunglassed playboys swaying like the leafy branches of spring, stumbling and recovering, casting and scoring. The mystery of how one so intoxicated could act with such precision will stay with him, and in shroud, for the next half hour or so. He listens to the powerful intellects in the crowd shout recommendations for re-racks, respectfully deliberate over progressive legislation, and muse over the more philosophic aspects of The Game. Should the cups be arranged with consideration given to horizontal and vertical alignments, or does valency reign supreme? Without a spokesman for the household present, what rules should be established as defaults for in-cup ball retrieval? Does the purity of one's water cup truly reflect the compassion of one's soul?
     The powerful impression of myriad new sites and ideas weigh heavily on the initiate, and he is encouraged to drink of Economy's golden nectar. First he makes libations to the owner of the house and parsimonious supplier of beer; the remainder is drank personally and induces him to frown the Frown of Economy's Golden Nectar. His cheeks flush, and his cup is found wanting.
     Finally his turn is called and he may take his place at the stately game table; the table which is gilt with hardened Venetian leather, heavily embroidered with gold; whose surface is responsive, glistening, and redolent of countless prior games. There is an inscription in the center inlaid in a glowing argent fire:


          Though Beer-Pong be a game
          Beer-Pong be that what shall remain


     The initiate's partner brushes against him with damp and fashionable raiment, entreating him to play with the dignity of a warrior and to not, "fuck up." Unbeknown to him, his opponents are the peerless "Clarence" whose birth was the accident of the passion of a 14 game winning streak consummated in 1985, and the redoubtable "Floyd, bulwark of The South" who himself is now in the midst of a 14 game winning streak. The outcome is set; his fate is sealed with the promise of much more to drink.
     Though his first game has been lost, the initiate is not dismayed; he knows something of Beer-Pong now and sees that it is like life with its changing seasons, victories and losses, joys and sorrows. Whichever way the evening goes, the initiate has taken his first steps to becoming a man, he has tasted of the best life has to offer, and he will surely suffer a formidable hangover come morning. His story is the story of all men throughout the ages who have ascended to the exalted peaks of human knowledge, and who from this eminent platform have truly progressed the vanguard of human experience. His story is eternal and yet timeless; it is the story we all live and learn from. His story, is the story of Beer-Pong.