When a couple of older kids later thrashed me at an installation in GAME, a British GameStop equivalent, I was chastened, but not demoralized-shut-in prodigies, I told myself. This is it, the peak of my talents." That was happiness then. And as these opponents-two console-less pals and my 7-year-old brother-wept and swore and were told it was time for bed, I thought, "I'm not good at much, but I'm the best at this. On weekends and weeknights, from the smug perch of my parent's sofa, I snapped the GameCube’s little yellow C stick back and forth, and I crushed my opponents. ![]() ![]() At the beginning of the millennium I succumbed to a wild delusion about Super Smash Bros Melee: I thought that I was good.
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