“The final round is about to start. What happens in the next few minutes will be remembered for the rest of our lives. All I can hear is the blood pounding in my ears, my heartbeat ticking down the seconds. An eternity elapses but at the same time has stood still. The buzzer sounds. Like ten canons expertly pointed in different directions my team races for their objectives. Each player knows just what to do. Uncountable hours of practice--of sweat and struggle, of agony and joy, but always filled with pride—have paid off. We are like a well-oiled machine. We move as one, guns and heads up as we streak for our assigned bunkers. In a matter of seconds more than a thousand rounds are tearing through the air toward our opponents. But just as many are flying towards us, eager to burst on impact. We can’t afford to lose a man. Being at that kind of disadvantage five seconds in would seriously jeopardize victory. My feet pound under me, each step a thunderclap. As I sprint I shoot down my lane of advance. I hope that I might take out my opponent before he has the chance to get behind cover. Get him and I can push forward past the fifty-yard line. I might cut the other team in half and shoot all of their players without them ever even realizing what had happened.
No such luck. In a few heartbeats, I am at the bunker. I throw myself down and slide the last ten feet, minimizing my exposure. I want to catch my breath, but I know that if I stop now it will be the other player that will cut my team in half. I roll to the side and get on my knees. I snap my upper body out, exposing as little as possible. I saw where my man dove. I need to cover my lane and keep him shut down. I pull the trigger and unleash a rope of paint towards him. I see him snap out and shoot back. I duck back behind cover, my pulse racing. I know that I can’t let him seize the initiative. I snap out a second time. A fraction of a second before I shoot, he shows himself again…and almost instantly there is a neon pink explosion in front of his mask. Enemy down! One of my teammates shouts. I don’t know who, there is way too much noise. A ref has already pulled the other player off the field. I jump up and run. I dive over a low bunker and slide in front of the bunker opponent one was crouching behind. I crawl around the other side of it. I look around. Three of my opponents are in sight, laying fire down the field. But they haven’t seen me yet. If I go for it, I am going to GO for it! I jump to my feet and I’m sprinting again. I reach the back mid bunker on the opposite side of the field from where I started. It can’t have been more than forty five seconds since the buzzer unleashed me.
I wrap around to the left and see an opponent with his back to me, ducking down to avoid the barrage of rounds directed at him. I take the shot. Four taps on the trigger in a third of a second. Without pause I step around to the other way. I see a few of my teammates engaged with the remaining opposing players. LEFT SIDE CLEAR! I shout down the field. The opponents on the right side turn for a split second, astonished to hear someone behind them. That is all the chance we needed. Before I can even aim, my guys are charging down midfield, closing the distance at an incredible rate. Suddenly the man on the right wing of the charge dives off to the side, and disappears behind a row of interlocking bunkers. And then they are on them. My teammates leap over the low enemy bunkers and shoot practically in mid-air. Time slows to a crawl. I see everything in slow motion as the rounds explode on the players, unleashing an almost comical looking neon splatters everywhere.
And then with a rush time starts again. Suddenly I am aware of a cacophony of noises. It’s over. I move out from behind the bunker, and I see my teammates rushing towards me. They practically knock me over and then I am being hoisted into the air, nine sets of hands supporting me. It’s the best feeling in the world. We did it. We won. This is our glory. This is our sport. This is our dream. This is paintball."

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The rush of adrenaline, the excitement, the thrill of hard fought victory and the camaraderie. For those who have tried paintball, it is an experience that will never be forgotten. In fact, many people find that they can’t play enough. Some players wish that they could somehow take their passion for paintball further, beyond just weekend fun. Enter the world of competitive paintball.
Over the past two decades paintball has grown from an exotic rarity to a mainstream sport, with live broadcasts of major competitions on such notable networks as FSN and ESPN. However, that level of play, with media attention and massive corporate sponsorships is still the exception. Very few teams get on television and have full financial rides. But as time goes on, paintball grows. The concept of the sponsored professional team has trickled down. Many small competitive teams are sponsored at the local level, by individual fields and pro shops. The latest trend--and perhaps the most exciting—is collegiate teams. Many well known schools now have competitive teams, including Purdue, Illinois State, and even schools like the University of California, Irvine.
By now you probably see where this is going. Oregon State University has a multitude of athletic programs. We Beavers are renowned for our achievements in recent years. With that foundation set it is time for OSU to branch out, to become a powerhouse in still more arenas. With our diverse student body, commendable school spirit and excellent resources we at OSU have the potential to redefine college paintball.
It is time to start something that will one day grow to be much larger than our selves. Oregon State Paintball is young, but with our help it can reach heights never yet ascended. We have the opportunity to achieve greatness, to be remembered for what we started. This will be the beginning of an era. And the legacy starts here. The legend begins now.