BY19 - To Cross the Cree

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Saturday, May 15, 2010

My shadow war with Chris Cree goes way back, back before either one of us was born. My great grandfather, Rafael Lozano, was a landholder of no small significance, in the South American country of Colombia. However, most of my ancestor's land was in Panama, which was at that time a department of Colombia. In the early part of the 20th century, just a year after an unsuccessful war for independence, Panama finally succeeded in breaking away with the support of the United States. This is all common knowledge, but what is less known is that one of the primary forces urging the Roosevelt administration to support Panamanian independent was an industrialist named Jebediah Cree, none other than Chris Cree's grandfather.

Thanks to the elder Cree's machinations, my great grandfather lost nearly all of his land, and as a result my father's side of the family spent the better part of the century in relative poverty. It was not until my parents won the Mega Lotto Jackpot for $114 million that our family was able to reclaim its place among the privileged. I would not discover our intertwined histories for many years, but once I did, I swore that I would destroy Chris Cree if it was the last thing I did.

That's not to say that revenge has been the only thing on my mind for the last fifteen years--that would be a movie plot, not the completely 100% accurate memoir that you are reading. Saturday morning in particular, as I drove from a rest area along the Pennsylvania Turnpike towards the Great American City of Cleveland, thoughts of Chris Cree took a back seat to my anxiety over the next day's marathon. Yes, there was a tournament too, but Scrabble was barely on my mind.

No, my focus that morning was on getting to the Cleveland Convention Center to pick up my race bib, but perhaps I should not have let Scrabble take such a back seat. Though I made the 30-mile drive to Hudson in time to face my first opponent, Heather Steffy, I must have left my mind back in Cleveland, because I played a really awful game. I made a host of mistakes: A) played (L)EZ when I had RESIZE for 74; B) passed on SUQS b/c I was unsure of ET(W)EE; C) undercounted (B)LAH; D) let (A)DULATER* go; (E) misplayed the endgame.

I had gone into the tournament with several goals related to that front page of, and two of those goals were to make progress in catching Chris Cree in the races for highest spread and most consecutive wins. Losing that first game really put a dent in the latter, because my best shot was to go 10-0, then 8-0 in Durham, then win the first four in Philly. Still possible, but it would be harder to win the first five in Philly.

Unfortunately, after first barely beating Joyce Stock thanks to missing the S(CAD) hook that she had set up, I made little progress on the spread front, and then I proceeded to lose to her husband, despite two phoneys. Endgame tile collapse might have been the reason, but who knows what might have happened if I had blocked Dan's possible Z play on turn 10. Problem was, I was down 18 with not a lot of tiles in the bag, and leaving the E A L to play made a bingo extremely more likely for me than for Dan, given the tile pool. Had he not had the Z, he would have had to consider this and make a blocking play.

Annotated Game

At the very end of my game against Walter Konicki, I missed SPRINGE and blew a rare opportunity for a five-bingo game. Still, as you can imagine, with four bingos I posted quite a bit of anti-Cree spread (now available in aerosol form!!!). Same against Eileen Popich, but not because my tiles were that great. No, actually she had strong momentum when GALLEYs just happened to hook to FOX, the only place for a seven, after which she had two more strong turns. I trailed by 43 when I played SOMA instead of SOM, and I held HIIOSTU on a tight board, so a win was looking difficult. Then Eileen challenged SOMA. I played O(M)IT for 21 and drew HISTTUU, more crap, but Eileen gave me another turn by trying INFAN(T)AE*. Then another turn when I played (B)UTUTS! THEN ANOTHER TURN BY TRYING (V)AN(G)A*!!! OMG... I had never won four free turns in a row, and by that point I had drawn the other blank, played off two Hs, and had (T)OROIDaL. A couple of turns later, PERI(G)EAN, and finally BUIL(D)ERS to bingo out, and what looked like a probably loss turned into a 200+ point victory. Crazy stuff.

I suppose I should point out, for people who care, that I picked up a new iPod during lunch. This one has 32 GB, which eliminates the need to keep fiddling with my iTunes settings, but the really cool feature I would discover a few days later was that this new model can play podcasts at twice the speed. I can understand the audio just fine, and I can thus get through twice as many podcasts and maybe clear out my backlog.

Back on the Scrabbling front, I was disappointed to find that I was playing Michael Bassett, not Dorcas Alexander. I was behind Dorcas for the finals, and if I didn't get to play her I would be depending on other players to beat both her, Heather, and Dan, in other that I might secure a spot. This was the second time I'd had to depend on the kindness of others, and I hated it.

Thankfully, Lisa took care of Dorcas, and Joyce took care of Heather, and I beat Michael and Pete Ziegler to make it into the final. I was thus greatly relieved as I rushed downtown to check into my hotel. YES!!! Believe it or not I had reserved a hotel room so that I could maximize my sleep and be parked close to the end of the race. Unfortunately, when I found the Rennaisance I learned that the parking garage was full!!! Only valet parking was available, for $30, and furthermore the self-parking was $23, not free like I had been told on the phone. I expressed my great discontent to the staff, and while they could do nothing about the parking, I was at least able to cancel the reservation and go find a place to park.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Across the Cleve

Around 2:30 AM I drove back downtown and parked just two or three blocks from where I thought the end of the race would be. Turned out I had gotten the start and end confused, but I was still able to reset my alarm to 6:05 and maximize my sleep.

A record crowd, 12 to 15 thousand I think, and by chance I happened to run into Dan Stock on the way to the start. I should mention that had it not been for Dan, I would not have been running the marathon. If I finished, I would owe him. If I didn't, I would curse him.

The info on the Cleveland Marathon web site indicated that the 45-60 minutes prior to the race would be spent organizing the runners into groups according to expected finish time. I had imagined some sort of orderly process, but what I saw instead, as Dan and I walked to the long row of port-a-potties and back, was seeming chaos. Dan finally decided that people were organizing themselves, and right about that time was when I noticed the flags with the projected finishing times. I had read about the pace teams meeting in some courtyard at 6:30, butt I figured it would be too much trouble to find them. The flags, however made it easy. I settled myself in the 4:15 group, but with a little over five minutes to spare I went back to my car for water, and when I returned I decided to try for the 4:00 pace.

I think the race started right at 7:00, and I lost track of the pace team right away as I jogged really slow to see how my legs would feel. Some runners scooted past the group and surged on ahead (so early?), but I ignored them. I wanted to see for myself how much time it took me to run the first mile, but after some time I spotted the 4:00 flag--I guess I had picked up my pace unknowingly. I quickly found that I was very comfortable with the pace, and that gave me a bit of confidence that I might finish.

I wasn't sure how many miles apart the hydration stations (water, Powerade/Gatorade) were, nor where the first one would be, and thus that first one, around the two mile mark I think, caught me by surprise. I was on the wrong side of the road, and I had to stop, back up, and then carefully weave my way across the stream of runners. I was a little concerned about losing the pace team again, but my experiences during my long training runs, during which I often finish with a dry mouth, unable to swallow, barely sweating for want of water, dizzy, and nauseated, I was determined to hydrate as much as possible.

The stations themselves were chaotic affairs. Sometimes they were on the left, sometimes on the right, somtimes both. Sometimes it was Powerade at the first set of tables and water at the second set, or vice versa, and sometimes the Powerade and the water were on separate sides of the road, with a volunteer announcing this as runners approached. Some runners grabbed the cups of water on the run, and I tried this at first until I started choking on the liquid, at which point I decided to walk most of the stations. Either way, avoiding other runners was tricky, and avoiding being splashed by cups tossed left and right was impossible. Early on I ended up with a good splash of water soaking my left shoe and sock.

I stopped at the first three stations, but it turned out I was overhydrating, and this had an effect on my small/weak bladder. Around five or six miles in, I spotted the first row of portable toilets. There were quite a few people waiting, but I had been feeling the urge for a couple of miles and decided to wait. I guess I didn't have much of a choice, because the last thing I wanted to worry about was a full bladder, but the effect of my delay was that I had to increase my pace to a point just shy of sprinting and maintain that pace for nearly a mile before I caught up with the pace team. By the time I spotted their flag I was really winded, but when I settled back down into their pace I quickly recovered.

Dang--by the time I hit the second set of portable toilets I had to go again!!! Thankfully the line was shorter, and I caught up with the pace team fairly quickly afterwards.

I had started the race with a mild pain in my left foot that seems to be a recurring condition, even during prolonged periods of walking. I had been able to run through the pain on several occasions, and I hoped to do the same on race day. My hopes were realized, and I forgot about the pain soon after started running, but around the seven mile mark the that pain was accompanied by more severe pain in both feet plus pain in my knees. On the upside, I did not feel like I was having to breath hard, but I still started to have serious doubts that I would finish.

Around mile 9 there was both water/powerade and something called Hammer Gel. I took a chocolate one struggled to open it and eat it. Then a volunteer offered me another, apple/cinammon this time, and I figured I might as well. After that delay, it took me a long time, more than a mile, to catch up to the pace team, and just as I was getting close we hit the longest incline of the race--not a good time to try and catch up.

The 13-mile marker was an important one for my morale, because from that point on I started counting down the miles instead of counting up. For the first time since the beginning of the race, I began to look past the race and to the Scrabble tournament. I wondered how much spread I could achieve against Dan, a fairly strong player, and, more importantly, whether I could sweep him and achieve a seven-game streak to take into the following weeks fifteen games. I of course fantasized of how sweet it would be to displace Cree, and I thought back to all that Cree had done to me, and to the day when I realized the influence Chris Cree had had on my life.

It was the summer of 1995, August, and I had just graduated from the University of Texas at Austin. I had deferred the start of my employment with Macromediate so I could spend the summer traveling, and during my first adult visit to Las Vegas I stopped in at Bally's to do some gambling. After dabbling at poker and blackjack, I found myself a a high-stakes baccarat table (bankrolled by the money in the trust my parents had set up after winning the Mega Lotto Jackpot) and on a hot streak. Then a new player arrived, a decade or two older than me, with a twang in his voice, and started winning hand after hand. My luck seemed to change immediately, and it wasn't long before I found myself down well over one hundred thousand dollars!!!

The man left to go play in a big Scrabble competition, but my luck never returned. I was livid. Before I left, I asked around, and I found out this man was somebody name Chris Cree, and I put some money to work with a private investigator to find out who this person was who had cost me so much money. Though I had not asked, the investigator I hired, Ford, was an excellent detective who exceeded my expectations. Not only did he find out a wealth of information about Chris Cree, but he dug up information on Cree's ancestry. It was while perusing Ford's report that I learned about Jebediah Cree and his connection to the Panamanian seccession from Colombia. In that instant Cree went from merely being somebody who had cost me a hundred grand to a mortal enemy.

The shadow war began shortly thereafter, although Cree did not know it for a long time. I used my money to affect Chris Cree's life whereever I could, to interfere with his business dealings and complicate his personal relationships. I came to relish the reports from the various agents I had working on my behalf (Ford, Linus, Jarrah, to name a few). Cree is often reported as being a successful forklift wholesaler, but nobody realizes that his success came years later than it would otherwise have had it not been for my interference. Unfortunately, I had more zeal than I did spycraft ability, and eventually I overplayed my hand. When my machinations led to the dissolution of Chris's first marriage, Chris found out about the strings I'd been pulling for years, and that's when the war became two-sided.

After that second bathroom stop I had started skipping hydration stations, and I only ended up relieving myself once more for the remainder of the race. I did not lose much time on that one, because I took a cue from another runner and took advantage of a corner of some museum (International Women's Air & Space Museum, in front of the Burke Lakefront Airport), behind some shrubs.

Not sure at what point, although I think we were on a bridge, but I was stunned to see a young man running barefoot and holding his shoes in his hands. I asked if he had run barefoot the whole time, and he said it had only been halfway. Still, damn impressive.

I successfully ran through the first instance of strong foot and knee pain, within a couple of miles I'd guess, and I felt pretty good through the halfway point and for a few miles after that. I missed the mile 14 marker, and thus it was a pleasant surprise to see marker 15. I commented this out loud, and another runner replied "a bonus mile!" Still feeling good at that point, but it wasn't long before I really started feeling the pain in my feet and knees, and I really started wondering if I'd be able to finish. I tried to focus on mile 17, then on mile 19, the most I had ever run in my life. I told this to the pace team leader, and he extended his arm for a terrorist fist bump. But when I talked about the cramping, he shushed me and said to not talk and conserve my energy. I think it was more like he didn't want any bad morale. Meanwhile the young woman to my right kept saying the pain would go away, and that I could make it.

Of course, as much pain as I was feeling, I was better off than a young woman I'd passed miles earlier, just as she commented "fucking knee!!!" and slowed down. No idea if she ever finished, but I was glad that my knees weren't bad.

Around that 19-mile mark was a second Hammer Gel station, and I took one this time, consuming it and the Powerade on the run (albeit at a slower pace). I hoped the gel would give me the energy to finish, but my real enemy was the pain. Those last six miles, and the several miles before that point, subjected me to more pain than I have ever experienced in my life. Lasik surgery might have been more intense pain, but it lasted for just seconds. My vasectomy might have resulted in more pain to my testicles, but it was not continuous. The pain from those final miles, however, was steady and lasted for well over an hour.

I quite litereally spent nearly all of that time wanting nothing more than to stop running. I was only able to keep from stopping by focusing on that next mile, and also on the 22-mile mark. That point was special, because at the pace I had been running, I calculated that I could walk the final four miles and still finish in 4:30, my intial goal. When I finally saw the 22-mile readout, I kept running and told myself to just make it to 23. Then at 23, to just make it to 24. At 24 I finally did stop and start walking, but I immediately felt my legs start to cramp up, and walking turned out to be no less painful than running had been. After a minute or two I resumed running and caught up to the pace team. At the next hydration station I stopped and walked, of course, and then I walked a little bit past the station but quickly started running again. When the course turned westward again, at the 25 mile mark, I stopped once more, but again it seemed like walking just didn't make sense given the pain. I started running again, caught up to the pace team leader, and finally passed him and kept going.

Weeks before race day I had imagined myself catching a second wind and really picking up the pace for the final mile. In reality, it was a struggle to keep running even with less than a mile to go. It wasn't until I turned right from Euclid onto E. 18th, heading north towards the lake, and saw street signs indicating I was very close, and hit a slight downgrade, that I started picking up the pace. I first focused on a young woman in a bright orange jersey who had caught up with the pace team leader (Mike) and commented about his pace. I had not even tried to keep up with her back then, but once I saw the end in site I passed her up and continued on to make the left at Lakeside. I was hoping the finish would be at 9th, but when I asked another runner she said it was at 6th. Oh, boy. A block or two later orange jersey caught up with me and tried to pass, and that's when I turned on the jets, with just three or four blocks to go. Let's be honest here--it's bad enough to lose to Chris Cree at anything, but losing to a woman, any woman, is worse. In an ideal world, no woman should ever finish a marathon ahead of any man. Yes, it's true that in that field of over 12,000 runners, many many women had finished the marathon ahead of me, but I tried really hard to shield myself from that fact so as to prevent serious psychological damage. But I couldn't ignore the woman in the orange jersey, or any of the women I saw ahead of me, and I am pleased to say I finished the marathon in a dead sprint, passing up one to two dozen runners in the process.

That sprint may have had a price, or perhaps it was the 26 miles that preceded it. Either way, the seven-block walk back to my car was perhaps more excruciating than the run itself. My legs felt like they were going to cramp up from the moment I stopped, and the cool wind blowing in from the lake only seemed to make it worse. I had to stop in the plaza I was cutting across to stretch my legs out. While they were not moving they felt better, but as soon as I started walking again the intense pain resumed. I had to stop again just a block or two later, and when I sat on the pavement and had my legs against the warm concrete, the heat seemed to help. Time was running low, so I had to push on despite the pain and make it back to my car. Once there however, driving turned out not to be a problem, and I made it down to Hudson with time to spare, time which I used in the bathroom to clean myself up as well as I could with some towels.

During my training for the event, I started running outside with a coworker, about once a week, in order to get my feet ready for pavement (as opposed to the treadmill, where I had run exclusively for about fifteen years). When I mentioned to Tim that I would be rushing from the marathon to a Scrabble tournament, he asked if I would be able to play, remarking that after a race he found himself mentally as well as physically exhausted. I had no way of knowing how my mind would deal with the physical fatigue, and I just assumed that I would be able to play.

Well, I can't say for certain that it was the fatigue that cost me that first game in the finals match against Dan. Could have been anything, really, that caused me to choke. And choke I did, in a major way. I probably had the win, if I had played KAY (to set myself up with my O) instead of OKAY, but I neglected to check my tracking. If I had, I would have known I had the case O. And I wasn't even that low on time. That play was about as classic as choking gets.

That loss ruined my best chance to beat Cree's 22-game streak, which is actually bad for Chris because if I can't chip away at his small Scrabbling accolades, I will be more motivated to attack him on a larger scale, especially after he changed the rules.

Chris Cree's escalation of our shadow war began a little over five years ago, when he began to take Kafkaesque actions that turned him from a mere annoyance to a genuine threat. The most egregious of his actions might be interpreted by some as fitting, given my involvement in the breakup of his first marriage, but I still think it was a violation of the unwritten rules of our game. At the time, I had been waiting for over a year for the opportunity to woo a lovely young woman named Carla Chase, whom I had met on the very first night that I attending the world-famous Scrabble Club #56 in Manhattan. Carla was at the time engaged in a secret relationship with another player, but I bided my time, and when I learned that that affair had ended, I pounced, sending Carla a flood of sweet e-mails with my best poetry and bouquets upon bouquets of flowers and chocolates. You can thus imagine my dismay when, every time I made the 2-3 hour drive from Princeton across the tunnel into the City, Carla seemed not to ackowledge any of my romantic overtures. Some time later, after I had finally given up, when I learned that Carla had taken up with Chris, I became instantly suspicious and put my investigative team to work. What they discovered was that Chris had used his vast network of resources to intercept all my attempted communication, even going so far as to hack into my e-mail! That's why I had missed my window, and that's what I was deprived of she who could have been my soulmate.

I was on a plane the very day I found out, bound for Dallas. That very night I snuck into Chris' house in the dead of night, and I quietly made my way to his bedroom, where Chris was relaxing with a book and a glass of scotch. Chris was not the least bit surprised to see me, and he asked: "Have you come here to kill me, boy?"

"We both know I can't do that," I replied.

"Then why are you here?"

My face remained passionless as I answered: "I'm here, Chris, because you murdered my best chance at love. I'm here, Chris, to tell you that I'm going to steal her away. And once she's gone... once she's mine... then you'll understand how I feel. And you'll wish you hadn't changed the rules."

Back in Hudson, Dan finished entered results into the computer, and we resumed our match. I won that game, and my win was particularly satisfying because on my very first play I set a trap for Dan, and he fell for it. From a rack of ADDEEOT, Quackle would not choose EDDO at 8H as the best play, but it most certainly is. Why? Because few players are going to know that EDDO is on that very short list of words ending in O that do not take an S. I figured Dan wouldn't, and after his opening exchange he in fact did have a bingo, ArREARS, and as I hoped he tried to hook EDDO, thus giving me the extra turn. My next three turns were just lucky, and I built up a commanding lead right away.

In our next game, we both had blanks late, but despite suspecting this I went against my instincts and opened a line, which allowed Dan to bingo for the win. The worst thing about that game was not the loss, however, but the fact that I actually saw the disconnected 9, OO(G)ENeTI(C), but did not play it because it wouldn't have won and I did not want to give up my precious anti-Cree spread.

While I waited, again, for Dan to enter results, I had plenty of time to think about how I had pretty much blown my chance to catch Chris's winning streak. Still, I was making progress on the spread front, and my other, much grander, scheme, was well underway to success. If I learned anything from my time in prison it's that you have to pick your battles. Once Chris married Carla and had a child, I decided I needed to find another front in our battle. Lo and behold, what developed shortly thearafter but the devolution of Scrabble tournament authority from the NSA to the newly-found NASPA, and the ascencion of Chris Cree to its throne.

Well, the funny thing about wearing the crown is that there is always somebody who wants to take it, and it wasn't long before the grumblings began. It was almost too easy, given the abilities that I gained decades earlier when I encountered the Smoke Monster, to exert my influence throughout the Scrabbling community and stoke the flames of discontent. I took every opportunity in the forums, the blogs, through my private e-mails, to nitpick at NASPA and suggest that we could do better. When I identified a possible proxy adversary to oppose Cree, I made secret trips out of state and assumed the form of their closest confidants, and push her further and further away from NASPA until she finally crossed over the edge. I used the same trip on the other principal players, and eventually a new organization, the WGPO, was formed and took on a life of its own. It was only a matter of time, then, until I succeeded in pulling enough of Chris Chris power base out from under him, thus leaving him in full control of... nothing.

But that plan would take a few years to play out. More immediate was my need to win the tournament, and after stumbling early by challenging M(O)TTLERS and then making some other mistakes, I managed to draw the critical Z and raise my game at the end to find GULDE(N) and win that fourth game.

In the critical fifth game, I managed to make a phony work for me early, hooking YOUNG to Dan's LINTERS to take a lead despite his bingo. I then managed to beat Dan to a blank, and then a second, and then the critical Z (again) to with the game and the tournament.

So I won first place, after finishing the marathon, thus ostensibly accomplishing two of my goals, but the experience was a mixed bag. Though I had posted a healthy amount of spread to bring me within a few tournaments of surpassing Cree, I had failed to sweep Dan and thus failed to give myself seven (let alone ten) consecutive wins to take into the Durham tournament's weak field.

Time was running out to achieve those twenty-three consecutive wins and displace Cree from cross-tables altogether, and failure to do so would be extremely frustrating given all that Chris Cree had done to me over the course of the last fifteen years. Besides what I've already described, here a few other examples (that I know of):

1994 - I ran for president of the Carothers Residence Hall at the University of Texas, but I loss to a freshman slacker named Nick. I would later find out that Nick's father was an associate of Chris Cree, and Chris had become something of a mentor to the boy, encouraging him, among other things, to win at all costs. This is no doubt why Nick played dirty and won the election.

1996 - The small Irving programming firm that I worked for started having financial difficulties after losing a court battle with a former partner. The owner of that other company, Ezra, was able to split off in part due to funding from none other than Chris Cree.

1999 - I failed repeatedly to get an extremely cute barista at a Starbucks in Dallas to go out with me. I would later learn that this barista, Erin, had a policy of not going out with customers after she had an extremely bad experience with... you got it, Chris Cree.

2001 - I caught gonorrhea for the fifth time. I'm not sure how Chris plays into this, but I'm sure he was involved somehow.

2003 - After spending my entire trust fund in my shadow war with Chris, I finally had to file bankruptcy and become first a drug dealer and then a male prostitute in order to support Scrabble habit.

2006 - Chris inaugurated the Dallas Open, for the primary reason of attracting a certain East Coast ingenue to Texas, then encouraging her to entice me out of my car and into her hotel room, just so I could be spurned in the middle of the night.

2005-2008 - Chris Chris, in his capicity as a special, unpublicized, member of the Starbucks board of directors, spearheaded an aggressive overexpansion that kept me running around the country and too busy to fully pursue my attacks against him. This expansion led to the great Starbucks Implosion of 2008-2009, which resulted in stores closing before I could visit, which resulted in the disintegration of precious pieces of my soul.

Now you might be asking--where is the evidence of all this? Well, technically, legally and journalistically speaking, there is no "evidence", but I know all this is true because God himself told me so, and God is never wrong. Foolish are those who thing the world can only be understood in terms of empirical evidence. On the contrary, only the Light of God can illuminate what has been, and what will be, and that's how I can know that I will prevail in the end, and Chris Cree will be destroyed!!!


#1 - L - Steffy    
0 (E)XED  
5.9 (A)IVERS  
4.3 K(E)DGE  
0 BA(Y)AMO  
4 -LMNN (QST) bingo lines slim but good chance at big Q play
19.7 ROQU(E) unsure of (ETWEE)S
16.8 TIR(O)  
8.6 (B)LAH  
17.4 I(L)LS  
29 UNSAY(S)  
2 DI(T)  
#2 - W - Stock    
2.3 KNOUTS  
0 FETA  
0 YAGI  
4.6 W(Y)LE  
0 WI(L)Y  
0 (W)IVE  
5.5 DELL  
6.7 (n)AN  
12.4 BI miss S(CAD) hook
28.4 TA(J)  
25 (E)H miss S(CAD) hook
0 NoRIS  
#3 - L - Stock    
1.3 RADIANs  
6.6 QUAY(S)  
2.9 WYND(ED)*  
0 CU(R)VER*  
0 JOWL  
3.8 C(O)L(Y)  
0 BE(A)NO  
0* TITI  
4 GAT(E)  
0 (R)OUE  
#4 - W - Konicki    
4.3 ODEA  
0 BEIGIEr*  
0.2 CRAP  
0 K(L)UTZ  
0 QA(T)  
0 (I)VY  
1.2 FE  
0 (ABY)E  
0 (G)O  
#5 - W - Popich    
6.3 ZIN(C)  
11.5 GRA(Z)E  
0 CRAV(EN)  
0 KEY  
3.6 SOMA  
3.5 O(M)IT  
10 (B)UTUTS  
5.3 H(A)H  
0 PA(R)EU  
9.5 VINE  
#6 - W - Basset    
0 HM  
10.9 (D)ARNING  
0 J(E)T  
0 OBI  
0 D(EX)IE  
4.8 PIT  
0 UV(E)A  
0 CANS  
0 ATE  
#7 - W - Ziegler    
1.1 FEIgNER  
0 W(O)MB  
3.7 TIKI miss A(W) hook
2.2 GAV(E)L  
0.9 HAD  
0 BUR(Q)A  
0 SPAY  
#8 - L - Stock    
0.9 HAHA  
0 V(O)X  
0 (U)NFURL  
0 (L)ORIMERs  
1.1 GAD  
0.8 TIME  
2.5 (W)EE  
0 GAUG(E)S  
7.3 YE(T)I can't afford to exchange at this point!!!
8 OKAY had case O but mistracked!!!
0 PINS  
#9 - W - Stock    
0* EDDO set up S trap
11.6 ATTAINE(D) I1  
0 Z(A)  
2.1 COREIG(N)S  
0 (P)OW  
3.3 B(A)RIUM  
0.6 (G)UV  
0 VI(M)  
1.5 (K)UNA  
1.8 IF  
3.4 HOW  
0 O(H)IA  
11.7 EN want to bingo out an catch Dan's rack
17 EL ditto
#10 - L - Stock    
0 JIAO  
2.6 (T)RUG  
0 LUXE  
11.7 (U)H  
50.5 LUNE MULLENS (unsure)
0 MEL  
0 COR  
18.4 ET  
7.1 DAIS  
0 (N)OVA  
12.7 RYAS  
2.9 LI(E)  
0 A(BED)  
56 NOTIOn OO(G)ENeTI(C) (amazingly I saw this but had no idea didn't want to give up spread)
#11 - W - Stock    
0.3 TOILETs  
35.5 challenge M(O)TTLERS  
7.4 (I)XIA  
0.5 HaRDENS  
11.1 (S)AVIN (S)OAVE
4.1 KAE  
0 WOG  
4.9 FICO  
2.2 ZIT  
11 GULDE(N)  
#12 - W - Stock    
0 QI  
1.4 ICY  
2.8 (F)UJI JU(ICY)
0 VASE  
0.6 WADE  
0 FE  
8.5 SuBVERt VERBS (to keep both blanks),oBSERVe
7.2 (H)AZER  
7 T(E)MP  
0 PO(U)ND  

1 - L - 9.0 (126.2)
2 - W - 11.7 (140.9)
3 - L - 1.5 (19)
4 - W - 8.1 (121.1)
5 - W - 4.5 (62.4)
6 - W - 1.2 (15.7)
7 - W - 0.9 (10.8)
8 - L - 1.5 (17.8)
9 - W - 4.1 (62)
10 - L - 12.1 (181.3)
11 - W - 9.8 (117.5)
12 - W - 2.8 (35.9)

Avg: 5.6

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