Ye Opinion: Sports Were Better When Everyone Died
Is it really sports if no one is mortally wounded?
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By Jorêk Bloodknyfe
Ye moderne tournament hath gone straight downhill since the days of our forefathers. As a dedicated sportingman, I hate to say it, but ‘tis the truth. Whilst I still counteth mineself amongst the Kingdom’s moste steadfast sportsters, ye fact of the matter is that sports were so much better when everyone died.
Today’s Hastilude is nothing like the martial games of yore, whence knights like Sir Ogrethrope wouldst crush three or four skulls with a single stroke of his flail, or warriors like Jürg the Berzerker wouldst thrash throughst a melee without a care in the world for lyfe or lymb. And then there’s archery: since when did we stop using serfs as targets? Sure, it makes a mess, but isn’t mess what the fans love most?
‘Tis high tyme for our no-quarter backs to get back to their roots and stop giving quarter to their enemies. And remember gladiators? I haven’t seen somebody killed by a hippopotamus in ages. Whatfore ist the deal with that?
Mineself hath always been a lover of the joust, but with all these new “safety” rules implemented by the Royal Magistrate of Tournaments and Jousts, lances are more likely to shatter than to impale the throat of thine enemy. Swords are dulled to the point where they rarely sever an appendage.
I remember, whilst sitting in the stands as child attending my first tournament, catching the ear of Sir Jarwythe after his opponent flayed it from his head in single combat. Sir Jarwythe then mounted a stunning comeback and slew his foe amidst much fanfare. He found me in the crowd afterwards, and, once the doctor determined there was no way to reattach it, he autographed his ear for me. I fell in love with sports at that moment, and have been in love ever since. Although Sir Jarwythe was tragically murdered by a drove of brigands on his travels home after the tournament, his ear still hangs on my wall to this day.
That’s what the magick of sports is all about.
Mine personage ist not saying that the moderne tournament is a bad thing — one wouldst ne’er criticize the Royal Games in such a way. One ist just saying we need to get back to our roots and start killing each other f’r sport again.
Shall Sir Burrow indeed slay his senior, Sir Stafford? Or will thy fates be reversed?