My backyard field had creeks all over it, you had to cross a creek or two to get from one base to the other... So tons and tons of games were fought in the creeks. Very fun.
First one that comes to mind. And the reason I wear a cup every time I play...
I had just crossed the creek and was up against the bank and my marker had broken paint in the barrel, which kills the accuracy of a flatline barrel, so I took my barrel off to clean it (it twists 1/4 turn to remove on an A-5).
I'm crouched there holding my barrel in one hand and my squeegie in the other when two players on the opposing team enter the creek about 20 feet from me....
I'm like, oh crap.
I run the squeegie through hoping the bbbrrttt of it leaving the barrel doesn't attract their attention as they are looking at the bank behind me making sure no one is coming down on their position. And then I start trying to get my barrel back on my marker.
And in the stress of the moment, I just can't get it on!!!
I twist and push and twist and push... nothing...
One of the enemies goes the other way and out of my view, but the other crosses the creek and starts going up the massive hill, crawling up it as it is so steep. And he is literally about 15 feet from me...
I finally push the barrel just right and it goes on the end and twist it locking it in place and turn to fire a shot at my opponent who for some crazy reason never looked at me!
I fire at his chest and then realize I put my barrel on upside down and the shot instead of shooting flat at his chest, divebombs down and nails him in the crotch with a loud "whack".
He groans and slides down the hill and into the creek writhing in pain from the shot to the nuts...
I feel like a total jerk..
But, lesson learned, and I wear a cup every time I play now and have since that day over 9 years ago.
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