Cy*Burr // spring 2004

The rules for the Paninis Bar & Grill open-invitation Monday night Madden NFL tournament are stated in red marker on a white board. The board promises the winner half of the evening’s jackpot. Every contestant puts $5 in the pot, so tonight’s winner will walk away with about $30. Madden NFL is a game that has two players controlling the electronic movements of opposing football teams.

Faith Hill’s voice fades. From this point on, the jukebox belches more battle-friendly sounds. Rage Against the Machine’s Bombtrack and Nirvana’s Come As You Are easily drown out the crackling of raw potatoes as they morph into French fries. The games are set and will be played on two 4-foot screens mounted on the wall, separated by Heineken and Coors Light mirrors.

“I’m Philly, and you’re not,” Wes Purvis says, three inches from Paninis owner Jimmy Tribuzzo’s face.

“Why are you Philly?” Tribuzzo asks.

“Because I won the coin flip,” Purvis responds. “You made the rules, now live ’em.”

Purvis doesn’t usually like to play as Philadelphia. His electronic team of choice is Green Bay. He just knows that Philly is the only team his novice opponent Tribuzzo has ever practiced with and the one team whose tendencies Tribuzzo knows.

Kent State senior psychology major Aki Braxton says the public atmosphere makes play more intense.

“No matter how good you are at home, you might fold under pressure here,” Braxton says. “It’s like, if you’re watching a game, you know all the answers. But if you were there, you might freeze up.”

Adding Madden NFL as an attraction took some tricky rewiring through the bar’s ceiling and walls, but Tribuzzo says it was well worth it.

“It’s a good opportunity for guys to get together for some friendly competition,” he adds.

Upon being jettisoned from the tournament for the second time in one night (early losers can buy their way back in for $2), Ross Slovenec, senior justice studies major, kicks over a bar stool and mutters the f-word. He then proceeds to fling the bathroom door open with his fist, letting loose a second, much clearer, much louder, f-word. Tribuzzo shouts a reminder that it is only a game while returning the stool to its upright position.

“I’ll be back next week and collect my money back,” Slovenec says after a pee and a breather.

Jamal Nickens of Macedonia owns 1,200 games, typically spends 30 hours a week mastering them and sleeps on public concrete when a new system hits the stores so he can be the very first to experience it.

As a sales associate for E.B. Games, as well as master of ceremonies to his own in-home, five-day-straight video game festival, he understands the camaraderie video games can induce.

“Human interaction in many games is so important,” Nickens says. “Like that one time with five seconds left in the game. You’re on defense, and your opponent throws up a Hail Mary and wins. Or you’re at the bar, it’s the 18th hole and you sink a 40-foot putt to win the round. These things will be discussed amongst everyone who participated forever. It’s just another bonding experience but through the use of video games.”

As the majority of tempers are kept in check, alcohol keeps flowing at the bar—a fact not lost on the consummate strategist Braxton.

“What I’m hoping for is that as the night goes on, everyone keeps drinking,” says the social drinker, who claims to not touch the stuff in an arena like this. “Then maybe they’ll be indecisive. If I had a little more money I’d buy everyone drinks.”