“I found your IP address and I’m coming to ur house to kill u”
^ That’s a real Xbox Live DM I got circa 2011.
You know what?
I didn’t even report it.
I felt the guy’s pain.
Classic FIFA battle, tied in the 80’ until I was able to unleash the combo of a Wayne Rooney free kick just outside the box with the sweet finesse of the RB button.….then I played some serious keep-ball to hold the lead.
(Cry about it.)
Why was this guy so mad?
Well, this wasn’t a casual match.
It was Ranked Seasons.
We were both D2, and on the verge of a coveted pass to the hallowed grounds (and the I’m really like that bragging rights) of Division 1.
(Our hero got through 😊)
Perhaps you can blame male psychology, and the wounds of pride and ego, or you can just point to the fact gamers are an odd bunch (fair, but lazy).
The fact of the matter is, to me and my co-belligerent sweating out a game of make-believe soccer at 2am on a Friday… it meant something.
This phenomenon repeated itself over and over as time went on.
(In games with voice chat?! Forget it.)
Getting to Champ 1 in Rocket League, late night Nuketown marathons in Call of Duty…hell even dancing on downed opponents while you’re dressed up as Sabrina Carpenter in Fortnite…all of this exposed the most virulent, visceral toxic rage you can imagine.
So Why Even Bother?
Hey, that’s a fair question.
Why even enter that arena?
Video games give me the ick!
That’s just great.
(I’d argue in our OnlyFans x DraftKings society, a man spending a few hours a week on the sticks isn’t the end of the world.)
In all seriousness, even if you hate video games, you’re playing in Ranked Lobbies every single day of your life.
Think about it.
You’re in the gym.
How many people even care anymore about their health and physical appearance to be in there?
You’re in the top 10% the moment you walk in that door.
Ranked Lobby.
House-hunting with your spouse?
You’re gonna tell me that place doesn’t have other offers?
Super Ranked Lobby.
Job applications, getting children into private schools, dating and everything that comes with it…I could go on.
So you might as well get comfortable upping the stakes.
Even if you don’t want to, the fact of the matter is…
A Ranked Lobby is going to find you regardless.
I had spine surgery right after I turned 25.
Working out and wellness for me aren’t an option.
I’ve been asked- by friends, girlfriends, colleagues, whatever- why do you take this so seriously?
Of course, they throw in my favorite: It’s not like you’re a professional athlete or something.
Thanks for the reminder!
Anyway, as for going hard in the paint in the gym…what choice do I have?
Getting some bone shredded off your spinal column when you’ve got a barely fully-developed frontal lobe comes with some responsibilities.
I’m not trying to be hobbling around at 50, so I do everything I can to make reality totally the opposite.
Is that a serious Ranked Lobby?
Uhh, yeah.
Did I choose it?
No.
But that doesn’t change reality.
Nor does it make me unique.
Familial situations, mental health matters, health conditions, the list goes on…all of these are playing the game with difficulty at max setting.
The good news?
The more you push it, the more comfy you get.
No More Civilians and The Art of the Floor
A few months ago, I was chatting with a trusted confidant of mine.
We got on the topic of dating, and without sounding like the absolute worst, I mentioned how I was kinda done with what I called civilians.
Like, if I was going to pull the trigger on an experience…whether it was short-term in duration or had a shot at being a thing…she had to have something going for her.
Not a status game, not a money thing.
Just women who actually had an identity, a passion, and were fun to talk to.
After I said that, I realized I’d retroactively sort of been doing this very thing the past year or so.
So…beautiful women with a strong sense of self, their own worlds and interests.. serious Ranked Lobby.
Also, is there any other pursuit more intertwined with ego and male identity than dating?
This is where Ranked Lobbies get tricky.
Sure, you can have fun with a beautiful girl who is just that…you know, matcha lattes, fyp-infused personality, that’s it.
It fizzles out.
She probably goes back to the “toxic ex” living in his mom’s basement smoking weed she kept bitching about.
That doesn’t sting at all.
It’s a little (a lot) different when you start hearing “my ex won the Stanley Cup” or “the last guy I saw…his dad flew us on his jet to our last vacation”.
You think that stuff didn’t sting?
I grew up with hockey dreams, the amount of times I raised the Stanley Cup in my little 10-year-old head…. and here I am a full-blown adult and I’m running around with girls who have been with guys who have done that very thing.
Then something funny happens.
You get used to it.
You meet the Floor.
The Floor can be simply put as such:
It’s not your minimum standard for other people.
It's the level of competition that stops intimidating you once you've spent enough time around it.
You throw yourself out into the big arena enough times and the big stuff looks less scary.
The girl with the multi-millionaire heir ex.
The 8-figure real estate deal.
High-level social outings.
Big time surgical procedures.
Circa-2015 FUT teams running Messi-Benzema-CR7 up top.
The Floor rises.
That’s the beauty of it.
But this all wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t address the fact that yes, you will be blown the F out.
The Tennessee Heartbreak Story.
I’m still angry about this one as I write it.
I’ve had some real failures (I could write an essay a day with how much I’ve failed in this life), but this one was a real sucker punch.
It’s 2024.
I’m still heavy in the CRE brokerage game.
My colleague I partner with, we’re ripping calls to landlords.
Naturally, your boy finds a willing seller on a trophy asset, a giant industrial warehouse (these are as good as gold in NY CRE) on a main corridor.
It’s owned by a private equity firm out of Connecticut.
We speak to the CEO.
His only request?
They had just rolled up a manufacturing firm in Tennessee of all places…if we could find them something out there, we’d get the keys to the kingdom to sell the whale NY property.
So off I went.
Immersed in the realest of real-life Ranked Lobbies.
Multiple multi-million dollar properties, a private equity firm, a time crunch…this was the major leagues.
I was a rabid dog.
200+ phone calls a day, scouring the rural landscape of a state I never thought I’d do business in.
Then it happened.
One willing seller became two, which became a package of three properties we had to show the firm.
They were enamored with us.
OK, you guys clearly do great work. We’re gonna hold off on buying in Tennessee until we sell NY.
Fair enough!
That was the easier task, anyway.
We’ll send the exclusive contract tomorrow.
You think I slept that night?
Christmas in February.
I felt powerful.
Look what the F I just pulled off…
Then came the silence.
No contract? What’s going on?
Finally, we got hit with the bomb.
We’ve gone with another firm.
??????
The explanation arguably hurt even more than losing the deals.
Our board voted against you guys, because you’re a smaller firm. We appreciate the great work, but we’re going with somebody with a national presence.
So not only did we lose the deal through no fault of our own, but we just teed up a high-level transaction for a competitor and left them on the 1-yard line.
Cut.
Throat.
I mean, how much more BTFO can you really get?
High highs, Low lows.
There’s really no triumphant “but at least you tried!” lesson to the Tennessee story.
It’s still best for both me and that CEO that we never meet IRL.
It does, however, illustrate the point:
You just have to understand that the possibility of getting absolutely crushed is part of the price of competing for something meaningful.
So, I’ll keep queueing up in life’s Ranked Lobbies.
Business, fitness, friendships, yes…dating too.
There will be more wins to be had, even when it doesn’t feel like it.
The view from the mountaintop sure is sweet, even if there’s lengthy moments of time in between visits.
There will be more lumps in the chest, more ego death, and yeah…more Tennessee-style stories.
But what’s the alternative?
Not try?
Not be equipped when life decides it’s time for you to be at the high-stakes table whether you like it or not?
So, we keep going.
The floor gets higher.
The “Life MMR” (hopefully) skyrockets.
Arguably the best part?
The ragebaiting.
I know that’s not so mature and it’s very petty.
But it’s extremely real.
DMs are always open 😝
Talk soon.
-John Abbate
10.18.2026
A Sunday without a post from John is no Sunday worth having