XI WK V: MMLP (2-2) vs. Diablo (4-0) (DIABLO WINS)

[Frank]

Season 11 XI

VERSES: Monday, January, 16th, 11:59 P.M. Western / 2:59 A.M. Eastern / 7:59 A.M. UK. 24 Hour Ext: Mod/Opponent Discretion

VOTES: Wednesday, January 18th, 11:59 P.M. Western / 2:59 A.M. Eastern / 7:59 A.M. UK. 3 Vote Requirement Enforced/Penalty

MAXIMUM: 48 Lines: 64 IF AGREED UPON!

Goodluck! @MMLP @Diablo

TOPIC:

[Diablo]

The final game.
I tried for days to secure a ticket
but All the visitor allocation sold out within forty minutes.
I couldn’t afford to miss it. It was the biggest game of the season
our players unbeaten in 21 matches and they’ve won the league if they remain undefeated.
It will take us some beating if we’re going to triumph
over a side known for their tireless defending. We’re home to United.
There’s goals in their side but I know if we try then it’s possible.
highly improbable, maybe, but with our eyes on the prize we’re unstoppable.
Our strikers phenomenal pace scared even the most hardened defence
carving attempts on goal out of nothing from start until end.
My palms were now sweating as I sat hunched at my home computers bay
scrolling through the pages of its luminescent cobalt blue display.
I knew most the usual places had no availability left.
I lost count of the minutes I’d spent on fan forums clicking through threads
or submitting requests through Facebook Group pages which went unread
Click.
Click.
“No tickets at present available,”
Click.
I hit the refresh button.
Click.
Click.
Another hyperlink that was dead.
Click.
The list must be endless.
Click.
Reddit was a veritable wasteland of troll posts, memes and everything you expect.
Click.
Click.
Click.
The computer tower blinked to my left,
Clic-
It caught me by surprise out the corner of my eye
a sort of realisation I’d stared at the same screen sat before me for some time.
I was drawn toward the light.
Its aura almost blinding as the orb begun to spiral.
Was this all just in my mind?
The green morphs into the icon for TOR as it unwinds.
I was sure that I would find more there than the surface web had permitted
so I ended up visiting the murky world of end-to-end message encryption.
The DarkWeb was a criminal paradise where no wallet was safe
an honest mistake could see your entire e-currency gone in a day.
I hadn’t wanted to take the risk,
but was otherwise lost to be honest,
and the prospect of watching us winning at home wasn’t an option.
So there I was as the clock ticked down
and midnight starts to descend
squinting hard at the text as nightfall became as deep and as dark as the web.
There were alarm bells already ringing as I paid it a glance
Some had credit card as their preference. There was no way I’d do that.
I navigate through the black market, wireless mouse patiently grasped,
both it’s acrylonitrile butadiene plastic surface and my fate in my hands.
I knew I was taking a chance — a BIG one even — but as I create a new tab
I see my cursors placed on an advert that would accept payment in cash!
I was taken aback, understandably, as I viewed the item description
surprised it was listed for collection and they could provide me assistance
with buying a ticket. I decided to click it and message the seller
I never felt pressured into buying.
If it was a scam it was exceptionally clever.
We ended up setting a meeting place near to the station
I would be leaving the train in — and that’s where he would be waiting.
I grabbed my Stone Island jeans and my favourite red lucky socks
so I could get up and wash before leaving at 10 on the dot.
I emptied the pockets and found a rolled up tenner in there
must have kept it as spare last weekend when the draw was very first aired.
You bet I was scared.
I’d never done anything as stupid in my life
as obscuring my identity to purchase something from a superficial site.
I don’t know who it is I’m buying from, or even if the tickets available,
I might have been more diligent chasing up if I’d have paid in full.
It isn’t too late to pull out yet.
I could pretend I missed the train.
I never slept a minute waiting to fall asleep with thoughts in endless disarray.
The night by then had slipped away.
Daylight sprang from the darkness.
The black had departed and a new dawn woke me with its casual calmness.
I sat up and started the day feeling tired but renewed
It’s amazing what the excitement of a final can do to heighten your mood.
I smile at the brooding figure staring through the mirror with an unshaven beard
My grey appearance aged my features. Toothpaste is smeared on the basin mirror.
I wash my face and clear my throat of yellowing phlegm
its thick mucous requires a heavier jet of water to dislodge it and let it descend.
I get ready to head out now I’m washed and I’m clean
checking my pockets at least twice to ensure I’ve my phone, wallet and keys.
Now I’ve got all I need, I walk my way to the predetermined spot
I’m feeling nervous on foot, it’s like every street I turn I’m watched.
I keep alert and follow the signs for the station while I patiently prevail
but veer my journey off course slightly in case I’m being tailed.
As I make it near the railway substation, I look up and wince at the display
intermittent grey clouds open the heavens while spitting in my face.
It was running late. I’m glad I left when I did and it’s lucky I had
after all the trouble I had finding a ticket, I was leaving nothing to chance.
I stood on the platform. Waiting. Chewing a pack of gum
glancing up at the departure lounge. Mine was the last but one.
It has to come soon, surely? I wait and I tap my foot
There’s an ecstatic brushing of shoulders forcing us all to advance at once.
We clamber unwittingly over newly refurbished steps after a frantic push
forcing me into standing up the way only public transport does.
The passive hum of its guttural engine and steeled plates cast in chrome
at last interrupted by the sedentary sleepers of the tracks below.
It’s rattle slows while passing over fields of mesmerising green
until I hear the gentle sighed relief of the doors pressurised release.
I exit by the East Terminus, turning left at the tunnel
ahead of the underground car parking area where I find ten thousand huddled.
It’s clear red is the colour. It’s everywhere as you look up.
The squares hung with bunting from it’s various public houses prepared to indulge it.
While wearing their full kits these men become brothers
setting their ugly differences aside,
welcoming arms extend to their fullest,
terrace chants bellowed back from the depths of their stomachs
Everyone loves it…
the only thing turning the air blue’s when they jokingly swear at each other.
I’m wary of looking up. I keep my eyes firmly fixated on the floor
quickening the pace at which I walk. In fact I barely take it in at all.
The faces in the raucous crowd become a blur of colour
merging wonderfully with player names emblazoned on the backs of their shirts with numbers.
I turn another left.
This is it.
The place we agreed.
I check the name of the street I’m on.
The sign facing me reads Stanton Ave
I guess I’ll wait and I’ll see.
The stranger reveals himself not to be quite as expected
A wiry pathetic husk of a man with eyes like a ferrets
though kind to his credit. He made sure the transition was seamless
with little between us other than our business agreement.
I take the ticket and read it, satisfied all was correct
before he had left to rejoin the crowd draped in their orderly red.
I saw that my end of the stadium was on the Ridgeons Stand
which means I’m obviously sat amongst the oppositions fans.
The ticket wafted in my hands, it’s lettering gave the appearance of gold leaf
I’m keeping it closely, eager to go see my own team compete for the trophy.
The feel of the cold steel on the turnstile as my fingers touch it
interrupted by the empty feeling within my stomach.
The tingling shudders down my spine as I make my way to the front
Pacing the stubborn concrete steps, hearing the
THUD
THUD
THUD
of supporters playing their drums.
The place was lit up with maximum capacity reached.
69,000 fans on their feet,
The atmosphere seething,
It cannot be beat.
The banter.
The cheering.
The gasps as the team press forward with every pass that’s completed,
Advancing,
They’re nearing,
The clackers are wheeling,
THWIP!
THWIP!
THWIP!
It’s both teams anthems your hearing over the tannoy.
The screaming.
The challenge.
The clearance.
The tackles are leaned into with such impact you can hear them.
Crunch!
The fans are decreeing the referee for not happening to see it.
Oi!
The laughter.
The wheezing.
The casual expletives for all manner of reasons.
The sighs of having a free kick that was a near miss.
Oof!
The chants sung between them as another chance has gone screaming.
The clapping.
The cheering.
Both stands are now heaving.
The atmospheres peaking so much you can actually feel it.
The passion.
The jeering.
Ecstatic.
Surrealist.
Spectacular.
Spiritual.
Masterful.
Fearless.
It’s craftsmanship.
Peerless.
A classic.
I’m speechless until at last I can breath in.
The fans on Row D6 fall silent around us,
as their guy goes to ground we anticipate what might be the outcome.
The referee finally mouths something then points at the spot
all their boys are in shock, a penalties awarded against them as he toys with his watch.
Their enjoyment has stopped and the stands fall deathly still.
There’s only minutes left until the game ends.
The striker rolls the ball with deftly skill.
He steps the heel of his right foot into the penalty spot
everyone stops and stands with baited breath.
Some not even tempted to watch.
I stand so my head is aloft, towering over the rest of the fans,
The balls hit with a venomous blast sending it past the keepers bending left hand.
I leapt from my plastic chair,
both fists pumped,
cheering what I’d seen before us
and in the moment forget that I’m standing with the losing teams supporters.
Soon I’m left feeling awkward as the turning rival fans faces,
silent and vacant,
start staring into my eyes with damnation.
I try to placate it putting both hands up for a second
I mutter a sentence under my breath which is followed by a thousand looks of deception.
I must have a deathwish.
Suddenly red is the colour and I’m stood in the centre as they’re becoming aggressive
Some of them get in my face,
Pushing me,
Testing,
Pulling me every which way as I struggle against them.
I stumble.
Defenceless.
A tussle commences,
but I’m too heavily outnumbered to do something of merit.
A rush of adrenaline pumps through my chest as we’re stood on the terraces.
They rush my direction as hundreds envelope me,
punching my head in,
until the cuts on my flesh open with every knuckle that’s met with it.
Pummelling.
Effortless.
There’s a thunderous energy.
I can smell the blood and the sweat as I come to my senses with
a Thump
Thump
Thump
Against my skull as my head is kicked.
Punishing.
Menacing.
Unrelenting.
Incredulous.
Numbness is setting in.
It’s ugly.
It’s strenuous.
The sufferings immense as it’s utterly senseless.
I’m bullied and heckled then
clubbed by the enemy
bludgeoned
again
and again
and
Again
.
until nothing but—
Emptiness.
Stuck.
Irreparably.
A husk.
Nothing left of me.
What goods muscle memory when you’re not functioning cerebrally.
Undemonstrative.
Empty.
This could be the end I see.
I look for the referee as my eyes begin to close.
Frightened
and
alone.
Time can move so slowly before the final whistle blows.

[MMLP]

One’s controlling the ball as we close to a draw
it takes a man of steel in holding the court,
‘it aint over’ so lets hold the applause,
this is a battlefield with 22 soldiers at war
you could sense the outcome without knowing the score
the emotion, the roar of the crowds swiftly entered the fray
which injects in our veins
its like MDMA as this adrenaline takes over the horde
were beginning to remember the names
on the back of jersey’s worn even as the shirts are torn
still that printing is etched in place
the wingers setting the pace with a plan in motion
we’ll have to go for it,
with the final whistle fast approaching
one final push and now the fans have woken
the other side were too acrimonious and lacking focus
but this be could their Magnum Opus
one grand stand moment
and just like that,
one defence splitting pass and the defenders heads were spinning fast
the opposition lads had folded
finally the resolve of Newcastle’s broken and now the show begins
there’s a massive opening with Stan “Collymore….. closing in!!!!”
…. 4-3 to Liverpool, rubber stamped a broken resistance with a token gift
the away end frozen stiff and the masses lose it
the beautiful game at its very best, with Newcastle losing :)



@Diablo Newcastle fan

[Universe]

Diablo:

Man... this was insane. What a journey. One of the strongest narrative driven pieces I've seen from you. The way you described the crowds...
the chanting,
the screams and THUDS
The loudest ranting
The teams
The muck!
I'm stuck...
Running amok...
In the--
Fuck...

Sorry lol, this was just so cool. A twisted path down the dark web leading us to a game where the inevitable beating and crushing happens... Gotta love you Footie fans... and how it all occurs so slow... before the whistle blows....Hence the length of the piece and HOW it's presented... yikes.

Just brilliant, Lars. Loved it.

Now go write a book or something.


MMLP:

Started off great as always. Your usual wit and unique back-and-forth flow on full display:

"the emotion, the roar of the crowds swiftly entered the fray
which injects in our veins
its like MDMA as this adrenaline takes over the horde
were beginning to remember the names"

And I LOVED this part...

"with the final whistle fast approaching
one final push and now the fans have woken
the other side were too acrimonious and lacking focus
but this be could their Magnum Opus"

(Use a thesaurus though.. the word "final" in two back-to-back lines is jarring)

The way you break up your lines is always so impressive. Makes my presentation and flow seem basic in comparison, honestly.

Wasn't a huge fan of the ending... technically you were fine but, although you took a little personal shot at your opponent which I love in topicals, it still fell flat and came off rather juvenile. Like, "my dad can beat up your dad" but in rhyme form lol.

Obviously you know you're not winning this or you would've posted a lot more to match Lars but thanks for showing regardless and putting a quick, yet entertaining, effort forward.

Vote: Diablo

[Cereal]

diablo:

the tension is dope it gets right in your face and doesnt let up.. its faced paced but dragged out so you really get sat in your seat.. though theres lots of action not much is really happening and though i know your good at this style you captured the crowd but the verse was lacking interest.. it just came off as a story about a crowd rather then people in the crowd.. dope none the less..

mmlp:

just kind of seems hurried and thrown together with the capture of the game it didnt have much in it.. it started off good but then the last 3/4 fell out where it just seemed like a bunch of scribbles.. i mean i get it which game they at and whats going on but you didnt flush anything out.. still cool the visualization of the peeps on the ground..

vote = diablo

just a more flushed out verse.. gl guys

[symetrik]

diablo - this felt slightly more keyed than your others, although with your experience it doesn't really matter as much - good use of framing things, emotions, fear of missing out, being willing to take a risk, the thump thump thump of things (the energy of the crowd, the heart in his throat...), this was paced well and told a pretty clear narrative with location jumps happening appropriately via transport which was cool. I think the only thing missing that I wanted to make it feel like a real dark web story was the guy who sold him the ticket shoulda been filming the beating :D

mmlp - really solid flow throughout IMO. it seemed much more tightly focused on the singular aspect of the game being the game (which could be to some a good thing, considering the topic was an audience reacting to a singular moment) but compared to the narrative style of your opponent it felt like it fell short.

vote: Diablo

[Pharaohs Army]

Both offer extremtly smooth/buttery styles just waiting to be "1-TAKED".. lol

Cannot do that with most peoples' writings...

As I said in chat, my detailed vote on the other battle has taken all my energy, and for that I'm sorry.
There aren't a ton of things I would criticize or nitpick though, from either verse.
A few things...but really not many.

Diablo

I think Lars is somehow still improving? Lol, based on this long ditty. Just well done in almost every aspect... I thought it could have been cut/edited for length just a little bit: during the part between getting ready to leave and getting to the public transport platform to wait...but for the most part the narrative kept me engaged, the rhymes were clean and impressive, etc. Very well done. I could quote many rhymes/ much phrasing that I thoroughly enjoyed, but am quite ready for bed. You wrote them; you know they're in there. lol

MMLP

is a rhyme scheme and flow wizard much like his friend Lars, as we can see from this piece.
IF I were to DARE a nit-pick, it would be this:
the emotion, the roar of the crowds swiftly entered the fray
which injects in our veins
its like MDMA as this adrenaline takes over the horde
were beginning to remember the names
I'd go:
the emotion, the roar of the crowds swiftly entered the fray
which injects in our veins - it's like MDMA
as this adrenaline takes over the horde were beginning to remember the names

The only reason I propose this change is due to the "tough" syllable/non-rhyme of "adrenaline takes over the horde" which follows the jects in our veins/ MDMA rhyme...& I (personally) don't want any pause between "horde" and "we're"
That's just a nerd nitpick MMLP, (how I see it) but take a look... Content wise it's dope
Lars didn't get a nitpick because his was soooo long and MMLP's just took a quick glance to find a part to talk about.

MMLP, I liked the piece,, and like I said 1-take smoothness...except I thought the ending was a little weak/abrupt/non-rhyming.

If you wrote more lines you'd have a better chance...but with Lars' long/detailed narrative &with similar technical proficiency he takes this one.

V Diablo

[Master Rock]

Diablo's verse seemed a bit more engaging, use framing well. Good pacing, easy to follow, a bit too much elementary (but I guess that works for simpletons). On the other hand, MMLP's came with the flow through and through, focused on the game. However, when compared to the fleshed out work of Diablo, it felt short. Giving it to Diablo.

[Frank]

@Diablo
WINS!