Now That's Real Baseball!

I remember some years ago when I was watching baseball with my Dad, and I don't quite remember which game it was or which context, but we were rooting for the D-backs and the game was under National League rules. We're a staunch National League family going back at least as far as my grandfather. This may not mean much to some people, and in truth I don't understand it that well myself, but for the purposes of this anecdote all that really matters is that the rival American League uses designated hitters--that is, a substitute hitter will almost automatically take the place of a pitcher in the lineup, encouraging players to specialize instead of participating in every aspect of the game, and reducing the use of strategy in the late game. Anyway, it was a late inning and the atmosphere was critical, and Randy Johnson, a star pitcher, steps up to the plate with a man in scoring position. He taps a bunt down the middle, sending the shortstop and the pitcher scrambling to get it. He gets thrown out eventually, but buys time for the other guy to slide into home. At this, my Dad stands up from his chair, exclaiming ecstatically, "Yeah! That's real baseball!"

Of course, my friends who are reading this are not that interested in baseball: Warhammer 40k is our sport of choice. But the feeling I had during my last game was exactly the one, I'm sure, sports fans of every stripe feel when they see the reason they love the game fulfilled to the last letter. And for me, it was even more, because for the first time, my army had clicked for me. Before, I had been playing them rather generically, just moving forward and attacking whenever I had the opportunity. But in the last battle I had with Rafi, the soul of the Tyranids shone through to me. It wasn't only that I had tremendous luck--my little darlings defied death at every turn--but they were operating in a way that profoundly reflected everything I'd always loved about them. Many of my broods never left cover, scuttling through it at astonishing speed while the enemy fired blindly into the trees. On turn two, my Raveners and Lictors crashed the party, and the board was positively swarming with Nids, most of them closer to the enemy lines than a shooty army like the Imperial Guard would have liked--and all of them scary, juicy targets. There were simply too many of them to shoot, and they were so close, so fast. Even if luck had failed us and we had lost, I would have loved how it unfolded, because for the first time I felt the Tyranids. Stealthy, sneaky, creeping up through cover, bursting out of the ground, overwhelming the enemy with claws, jaws, and living ammunition! Even if it doesn't always work out that way, that's the spirit of it, all right. I think I'm going to enjoy playing a lot more from now on, win or lose. I've also settled on a name for my army: Hive Fleet Carcharias, after my favorite non-fictional beast. After a while mucking about, I feel I've found them: the real Tyranids!