Ranked matchmaking seems to have a REALLY hard time deciding what to do with me.

Hot off a three game losing streak (which is really an eight game streak with a nice breath of fresh Zeus pub-stomping air in between), I figured it was as good a time as any to queue up and see if I can get this thing done I promised I would. And I waited. And waited. Ten minutes later I stopped waiting, went and took a shower, did some stretches, set my alarm for work, and queued back up again. This time it only took five minutes. Hooray?

I'm somewhat encouraged by this: after all, longer wait times means there aren't as many people at my level to queue with, right? Then again, the guy who insta-picked Spectre on my team was only 2.7K so... maybe I shouldn't get my hopes up for a 3K+ calibration. 2.4K was my initial prediction, after all.

I was pleasantly surprised by how communicative our team was during the drafting phase: a nice change from previous matches I've played. Our orange said righ…
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There comes a time in the life of every human being on this planet where they must say 'enough is enough'. No longer can things be put off. No longer can dreams be allowed to remain dreams. There is an imperative set by the gods that every man worth his salt, who wishes to prove himself in the ring of honor, must be weighted. Must be judged. And most definitely, must finish what he started.

So this man goes forth upon his final battle, back into the ring for the tenth time, to put an end to the sinister demons of waiting, uncertainty, and the unknown. Beckoning to the gods for their aid, he picks a hero wrought in their image: Zeus, the divine emissary of lightning, lord of thunder, rage, and pub stomps. Perhaps this facsimile of strength will transfer some of its digital splendor upon the man behind the keyboard. Or perhaps he shall be smitten for his arrogance. The combatants are set. May the game begin.

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