Double Dribble for the NES wasn't just a great game, nor was it just the game that
made me stay indoors, gain a few pounds, lose a bit of pigment, and start making
questionable choices on how i spend $50 to $60.

No, it was just about the very first game to inspire real life emotion. It was the first game to
create real, palpable rage.

It was the very first game I punched someone over.





Yeah, I had an NES. Who didn't? Before it became the ironic statement worn by un-clever
hipsters some people know it as today, it was a grey VCR thing that sat atop my TV when I
was a little kid. And it was one of the better gifts my cousin ever gave me.

But what really tipped it off was this game carrying case she had.










That shit was hot. And you know every time a friend came over, I never hesitated to
be an asshole about it. ("Oh, you want to play Ninja Gaiden II? Let me see what I
got...HERE!")

Inside the case, was two games. One was Super Mario Bros. 3 (Some game I saw
from some movie once.) and Double Dribble.

Being a fan of outdoor activities such as basketball (We were all stupid kids at the time), I
invited a good buddy of mine, Adam, to play.

This kid was one of the big pushers of my video game habit early on, introducing me to
Goldeneye 007, Metal Gear Solid, and the fact that someone can play GTA III
and do nothing but run people over in cars...for four hours. From what i can tell, he
never had an issue with anger before Double Dribble.


The game itself was good fun. Not because of the generic team options, or the iffy controls,
or the clueless team mates.

It was this:




Every time you went and took it to the house, you were treated to a...well, cutscene of your
grey-pixeled superstar, slam dunking the ball in front of a cheering crowd that looked like a
cross between television static and spray paint.

They were so awesome. Unless of course, you were on the opposite side.

Every time I slammed dunked on Adam, he would swear, scream and bitch about poor
controls and retarded players. That is, of course, until he slammed dunked on me, where
he would brag on about the excellent mechanics.

This happened to me as well. Hell, i think this happened to everyone.

But unfortunately it proved too much for Adam, as I continued to educate him, most
proper.




"Shit."



"SHIT!"


Suddenly, and without warning, Adam kicked my NES. Kicked it so hard that the lid flew
right off, follwing up with a controller toss that broke the A button. (Arguably the most
important button.)

Well, I couldn't have that.

So I punched him.

Square in the stomach.







Well what the hell would you have done? It was my goddamn NES.






We had a good laugh after that, even continuing to play another game before we popped in
Metal Gear. We still bring it up to this day, whenever i lose a round in Gears of
War.



But Cheesus H. Crisco, don't you dare tell me that video games don't inspire real,
truthful, full blown, fist-clenching, blood boiling, honest to goodness emotions.


Although I suppose you could also claim that it caused some violence.

















Shit.


Nevermind.