Canadians are a strange lot.
Just when you think you’ve got them pegged as a nation of
lacrosse fanatics guzzling Molsons and flaunting their free health
care, they shake things up a little bit.
From our northern brethren in Canadia who brought us maple
syrup, a figure skating scandal, and the worldwide tragedy that is
Celine Dion, comes the International Rock Paper Scissors
Championship in Toronto on Nov. 16.
That’s right – rock, paper, scissors.
What’s that all aboot, eh? Well, according to the World
RPS Society, the governing body of the sport of rock, paper,
scissors, the event will draw the world’s premier players to
Toronto to compete in the championship tournament.
A total of $2,000 dollars in prize money will be up for grabs,
and top-ranked players from all over the globe will be on hand for
the competition. Each tournament match will be the best of three
rounds, with three throws per round.
The RPS Championships might be the most convoluted sporting
event to come out of Canada since Stone Cold Steve Austin screwed
Bret “The Hitman” Hart out of the WWF Title at Survivor
Series several years ago.
Perhaps the most ludicrous aspect of the entire tournament is
the RPS Society Web site, www.worldrps.com. Scores of bleary-eyed
Canadians squander hours every week staring blankly at their
monitors memorizing tidbits of RPS strategy, as the screeching
voice of Alanis Morissette pierces the air.
According to the Web site, the society’s mission is to
promote the game as a fun and safe way to resolve disputes. It
lists the official rules in excruciating detail, going so far as to
caution players to “think twice before using RPS for
life-threatening decisions.”
In another words, folks, don’t use the game to determine
whether you or your roommate has to explain to the landlord why a
game of drunken indoor mud wrestling seemed like a good idea the
previous night.
Obviously conscious of its members’ safety, the society
warns players to remove all sharp jewelry and watches before each
game to prevent scraping or chaffing of the knuckles.
Furthermore, they list a number of strategic combinations or
“gambits” designed to baffle novice opponents including
“the crescendo” (paper, scissors, rock) or “the
avalanche” (rock, rock, rock).
But you thought RPS was just a playground game of chance?
For the true RPS enthusiast, the site lists a number of advanced
tactics designed to give players the competitive edge. According to
the Web site, “cloaking” is a trick in which you hold
back a throw of paper until the last possible moment to dupe an
opponent into believing that you may be throwing a rock.
And “priming the chump” is not a lewd public act
that will have you arrested by a team of khaki-clad mounties, but a
count of 1-2-3 used to dictate the pace of the game at the
beginning of each throw.
The RPS society has even created a virtual “RPS Grand
Master” against whom players can practice over the internet.
So as you read this, hundreds of civilization-starved Canadians
throughout Saskatchewan and Manitoba are playing hooky from their
jobs at the brewery or the logging factory to play RPS against an
online trainer.
What’s more is that when these sports-deprived lunatics
are not playing against one another, they are talking about the
sport on internet message boards that the RPS society has
provided.
One string of posts actually describes someone as the “Joe
DiMaggio of RPS,” while in another, a man calling himself
“Mr. Fancy” (could I make this stuff up?) bemoans a
ligament injury in his wrist that will likely sideline him for
four-to-six months.
Tournament coordinators are unsure of how many fans will show up
in Toronto to watch the competition unfold, but sadly, attendance
figures will likely soar above those expected for Opening Day with
the Expos.
In the meantime, before the start of the RPS championships sit
back, pop open a Labatt Blue, and in the spirit of Canadian pride,
enjoy a game of RPS with a friend.
It beats playing lacrosse.