Those Were the Days is a weekly article in which Gamervision employees share video game-related memories. If you’ve got a story of your own to share, please do so! We love hearing from the community.

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The year was 2002, and I was just about to start my third college in four years. I had moved to Philadelphia to attend school, but instead of living in a dorm, I opted to live with a close friend of mine who was in need of a roommate. As any sports fan knows, August means Madden. Of course, this was a time when Madden Holiday was just starting to become more than just something spoken about in game stores and dorm rooms. Since both my roommate and I had a little bit of downtime in the weeks before classes started, we had plenty of time to establish one of the greatest video game rivalries in the history of gaming. At least, until he retired.

At the time, we each considered ourselves pretty decent Madden players. My roommate, who we’ll call Trent, was still a pretty faithful Chicago Bears fan. Even though he enjoyed the Eagles, he would proudly wear his Urlacher jersey just about anywhere. During this transitional period in my life, I considered myself between teams, but having always lived in the greater Philadelphia area, had been accustomed to rooting for the Eagles. On paper, these two teams were pretty evenly matched. Both had solid defenses, fair-to-middling offenses, and a few playmakers on each side of the ball. For a few days, we battled back and forth with some tight defensive match-ups. Neither of us took it too seriously at first, as we were both learning the ins and outs of the latest version of EA’s signature sports franchise. As August dwindled down, the two of us set up for a epochal match-up between the Birds and the Bears.

It was a grueling match-up, to say the least. Heading into the fourth quarter, the game was tied at 10. Trent had been keeping my Eagle offense in check for much of the game. With less than three minutes to play, Blaine Bishop intercepted a Jim Miller pass in Chicago territory. Knowing how close the game had been, I decided to just run the ball. At the very least, I could take some precious time off the clock, and hopefully grab a field goal. I slowly trudged for a few yards at a clip with Duce Staley each play; I wasn’t going to give this highly rated Chicago defense a chance to run back a pick. I reached the 15-yard line with under two minutes to play, and instead of letting the clock continue to run, my eyes were only on the end zone. I called another handoff to Duce (if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it), and approached the line. Trent smelled a run, and audibled to put eight men in the box. I was unfazed. Even if he stuffed me, I would still get three points. McNabb hiked the ball and handed off to Staley, who was immediately met by Roosevelt Colvin. Keep in mind this was all before the advent of the truck stick/juke stick, so all you had as moves were stiff arms, spins, and side steps. Duce somehow managed to break free of the highly rated tackler, and made his way out of the backfield. After another two yards, Urlacher, Mike Brown, and R.W. McQuarters all converged on a rumbling Duce Staley. Thinking this was a sure stop, Trent let out an excited shout, only to find that all three of the touted defenders had let the Eagle running back slip through their grasp. In a moment of pure clarity, I saw nothing but the green grass in front of Staley as he stumbled through the pile towards the end zone. Michael Green and Jerry Azumah made futile last efforts to grasp at Duce’s legs, but for Trent and the Bears, it was too late. Someway, somehow, Duce Staley had broken 6 tackles on his way to a 15-yard touchdown run.

I’ll admit, I gave a modest fist pump in excitement, and I don’t know if it was my celebration, or the fact Duce just broke all those tackles that caused what happened next. Trent had slammed the controller to the ground in frustration, and made his way toward the kitchen. There, he grabbed a giant knife from our knife block, and stabbed the wall. Several times. It was a strange moment for both of us. Trent walked around a bit to clear his head, then announced his retirement from Madden. To be fair, my celebration may have been a little more excessive then I originally thought. I had apparently jumped out of the couch, and landed so hard that I broke the couch. To this day, the couch is held up by phone books and cinder blocks. Like Michael Jordan or Daunte Culpepper, Trent went back on his retirement and has returned to Madden after getting over his gaming anger issues. We still throw down occasionally, and the matches are just as close as they ever were, but for the rest of our lives, the two of us will always remember the day the Duce was loose. I also keep half an eye on the knives whenever Trent is around.

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