The stadium was packed. I was down on center stage, surrounded by thousands of people, anxiously clutching my controller. It was absolutely surreal what was happening to me, I'd fought through the absolute best in the world; Hax and his Captain Falcon, Vudujin's monstrous Luigi, Mango's devastating spacies, the list goes on and on. Before this I was a nobody, but now people all over the world were tuning in to Video Game Bootcamp and Clash Tournaments to watch me in the Melee Grand Finals.

That’s right, Super Smash Bros Melee; at one point revered as the most fun party game to ever touch a video game console, was now captivating thousands of people in an entirely new way. What was once a simple premise of taking four stocks from your adversaries, via knocking them off of colorful and zany stages, had boiled down to a very intense eSport that required the utmost precision, patience, and reflexes that a human can naturally achieve. Truly a Zen sport in its nature.

I was up against the robot himself, Jason Zimmerman; the fiercest player known to man, lovingly hailed as Mew2King. No chance in hell was I going to take a set off this guy; I mean he's frame perfect with at least five characters for chrissake. The time was coming, only 10 minutes until the match began. Taking my seat, I shook M2K's hand and smiled nervously. The crowd settled down to mere murmurs and the only sound I heard was the menu music.

"Alright, what stages are we gonna strike?" Mew2King spouted, startling me.

"Uhhh . . ." I stammered, "if you're going to play Sheik, I don't want Final Destination or Yoshi's Story." Sheik was the fastest character in the game, and she absolutely dominates smaller stages.

"That's fine with me. How does Battlefield sound?"
I just nodded my head in agreement. I was trying my damnedest to mentally prepare myself for this matchup. My only good character that could take on a Sheik was Falco, and M2K knows that fight backwards and forwards. Hesitantly, I set my cursor over the bird and hit start. The battle begins.

"Alright, if you're just tuning in we've got game one of Grand Finals between Mew2King and the up and comer, Pooch" states Prog, one of the most famous smash commentators in the world. "We've seen a lot of phenomenal matches come out of this new guy, but will he be able to beat the king of Mews?"

"I'm not too sure he can do it," responds D1, joining in on the commentary, "Jason has just been on the ball too much this season. Not to mention that Pooch went with Falco, which M2K is known to body in almost every match he plays."

My hands were an absolute flurry, mashing inputs so fast that the distinct sounds of buttons became a single drone of plastic being crushed. Falco dashed towards his ninja foe, grabbing her out of the air and hurling her towards the heavens. Sheik hurdled through the air, absolutely helpless, as the bird took to the air in vicious pursuit. With perfect agility and grace, Falco drilled his talons into Sheiks torso, sending her rocketing towards the ground; just the combo I needed to take the stock. I paused for a second, mentally, and realized that I've just taken a stock off of the King.

Pausing was a mistake. He returned the favor near instantly with a set of aerial moves executed with absolute perfection that sent me flying out of the stage. Just like that the stocks were even once again.

"My goodness, Jason is playing way more aggressively this match than I've ever seen before. Pooch seems to be maintaining good spacing and has control of the stage though, so we'll see how his play style manages to keep up."

"I'm really surprised at how well he's fending off M2K's approaches, Prog. He's really stumping the computer at his own game."

My hands were sweating buckets, and I was getting antsy. An entire stock lead is a huge thing to have against such a masterful player, and I wasn't going to let that lead slip. A grab put me in a good position to combo into a frontflip kick, closing out the King's third stock. Two stock lead, and one left to take from the robot.

All of a sudden, my mind began to wander from my play. The sound of the crowd faded into my conscious mind. What was once a faint murmur began to grow immensely. "MEWTWO KING! MEWTWO KING! MEWTWO KING!" My heart was racing; this match was the deciding factor for whether or not I'd have finally reached the pinnacle. I wasn't about to let the crowd take that from me. Nothing was getting in my head.
Sheik descended back onto the stage, granted with brief invincibility. Jason used every damn frame of that gift to his advantage. I couldn't avoid his grab, and I watched as Falco flailed for his life, to no avail. Powerless. My jaw dropped. Sure, I still had a whole stock on him, but M2K was still the best on the planet, and he sure as hell didn't want to give up that title to the likes of me. He turned up his game to a whole new level. His aggression was far less than what it was at the beginning of the match, and instead he began to tease me at the ledge. Foolishly, I waltzed over to try and snipe his ledge grab and get a quick kill to close out the match. Right into his trap. If you blinked, you'd have missed how fast he popped off the ledge, smacked me in the face, and then turned around and threw me off the stage. I was utterly stunned; the stocks had evened out in mere seconds.

I looked over at Jason and a smile curled onto his face. As far as he was concerned, the crown was going to stay his. I wasn't about to let that happen, not after all I'd been through, not after getting this far. I’d been proving them wrong all tournament, but it meant nothing if I couldn’t rest upon the throne. I had to prove them wrong, all of them. I had one last chance to become the greatest, and I felt ready.

Falco touched back down to Battlefield, poised and ready to win. To the right of the stage was Sheik, taunting me from the ledge, baiting me in. I'd learned my lesson, though, and wasn't about to repeat the blunder that had put me in this dire situation again. I watched intently, focusing on her timings, learning the patterns. Falco drew his weapon, and a single laser singed her, knocking her from the ledge. M2K knew I meant business. Sheik got back to the stage, trying to approach from the top platform. I read the aerial kick like a page from a book, and countered with a flip kick. The game was in my hands now, mine to win. Once more, Falco took to the sky to pursue his pray, drill kicking the ninja into the center of the stage. Ruthlessly, the bird gave chase toward his dying opponent on the ground. This was it, one more strong kick would secure my victory and crown me the World Champion Melee player. Falco cocked back and launched his foot forward. All of a sudden, Sheik rolled backwards and punished the bird with a ferocious swipe of her arms. I watched in complete shock as Falco Lombardi disappeared off the top of the stage, a mere glint of a star representing his death. GAME!

"I just hate to see such a crushing defeat for a player with such potential, D. If only Pooch were a bit more experienced and a bit less greedy, he probably could have taken the set."

"Man, look at him down there. He's in shock." D1 said, "I don't think anyone can really believe such an astonishing comeback could have happened."

I gazed at the screen for a bit, downright upset and still reeling from such a soul crushing defeat. A hand grabbed my shoulder and I turned, it was Jason.

"Hey man, I just want to say that was the most intense set I've ever played, and you're a hell of a player."

His sincerity was evident, and although it didn’t ease my loss in any way, it was much appreciated. "Thank you. You have no idea how much this set meant to me, and even though I lost, I still feel like I learned a lot from it, and I'll be gunning for you next year."

We both shook hands and laughed. The crowd swarmed the stage, hoisting their reigning king into the air, chanting his name. I joined in on the chant, knowing that I truly wasn't ready to be the champion. I still needed training.