Tournament Champion Quotes

There's more to every tournament than just who wins... Every champion has a reason to compete, and they deserve to win. Even if they they don't make it out alive

Albus: First question. What do you know about the Triwizard tournament? Scorpius(happy): Ooooh, a quiz! Three schools pick three champions to compete in three tasks for one cup. What's that got to do with anything? Albus: You really are an enormous geek, you know that? Scorpius: Ya-huh.

Only a week away!” said Ernie Macmillan of Hufflepuff, emerging from the crowd, his eyes gleaming. “I wonder if Cedric knows? Think I’ll go and tell him. . . .” “Cedric?” said Ron blankly as Ernie hurried off. “Diggory,” said Harry. “He must be entering the tournament.” “That idiot, Hogwarts champion?” said Ron as they pushed their way through the chattering crowd toward the staircase. “He’s not an idiot. You just don’t like him because he beat Gryffindor at Quidditch,” said Hermione. “I’ve heard he’s a really good student — and he’s a prefect.” She spoke as though this settled the matter. “You only like him because he’s handsome,” said Ron scathingly. “Excuse me, I don’t like people just because they’re handsome!” said Hermione indignantly. Ron gave a loud false cough, which sounded oddly like “Lockhart!

This is the second best flavored baked potato I’ve ever tasted.” “What is the first?” Mom asked. “That’s classified.

Knave of hearts and bane to all women, be it known that you must win your tournament for me, otherwise I shall have a most difficult time explaining to my new lord my newest addition. -A letter to Stryder, from Rowena

I go to New York City, the Tournament of Champions, a significant milestone because it’s a clash of the top players in the world. Once more I square off against Chang, who’s developed a bad habit since we last met. Every time he beats someone, he points to the sky. He thanks God—credits God—for the win, which offends me. That God should take sides in a tennis match, that God should side against me, that God should be in Chang’s box, feels ludicrous and insulting. I beat Chang and savor every blasphemous stroke.

Most importantly, they’re delicious,” Carl said. “I bet you’ve never had one the way I can make it: with sour cream and chives.” Mom winked at him. Carl snorted. “The best filling for a baked potato is a second baked potato, but I’m willing to give this ‘skewer cream’ thing a try. Potatoes are awesome no matter how you have them.

NOW!” Jimmy and Dave yelled,

Jimmy thought they were all losers, except for Emma. She was smart and, if he was being honest, kind of cute.

Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end.

You are the strongest man I've ever known. And you are kind. And you are good. You are bruised by this tournament, but you are not broken.

In three weeks, the women's team had done more for soccer in the United States than any team had ever done. Yet, the United States Soccer Federation was unprepared and unwelcoming in its acerbic response to the women's success. With petty, resentful, chauvinistic behavior, the federation would bungle what should have been its greatest moment as a national governing body. Its leaders would criticize DiCicco instead of congratulating him, they would threaten to sue the women over an indoor victory tour and they would wait an unacceptably long period before entering into contract negotiations with the team. Then, at the end of the year, the federation would offer a deal that the women found insulting. Unwilling to trust that the federation was bargaining in good faith, the women would boycott a trip to a tournament in Australia. They would become champions of the world, embraced by the president, by the largest crowd ever to watch women play and by the largest television audience for soccer in this country, embraced by everyone, it seemed, but the officials who ran the sport with the vision of a student council. Increasingly, it appeared, the only amateurs left in sports were the people running the federations that governed them.

Baked potatoes,” said Carl. “Baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes.

Dave winked. “Just hop out and do it as a creeper. You’ll be smaller and harder to hit anyway.” “If only his ego would shrink, too,” Spidroth said. “I wish your face would shrink,” said Carl. Dave rolled his eyes. “Stop bickering, you two. Save it for later.” “I wish I could save Spidroth’s face for later,” said Carl.

I lost my second judo tournament. I finished second, losing to a girl named Anastasia. Afterward, her coach congratulated me. "You did a great job. Don't feel bad, Anastasia is a junior national champion." I felt consoled for about a second, until I noticed the look of disgust on Mom's face. I nodded at the coach and walked away. Once we were out of earshot she lit into me. "I hope you know better than to believe what he said. You could have won that match. You had every chance to beat that girl. The fact that she is a junior national champion doesn't mean anything. That's why they have tournaments, so you can see who is better. They don't award medals based on what you won before. If you did your absolute best, if you were capable of doing nothing more, then that's enough. Then you can be content with the outcome. But if you could have done better, if you could have done more, then you should be disappointed. You should be upset you didn't win. You should go home and think about what you could have done differently and then next time do it differently. Don't you ever let anyone tell you that not doing your absolute best is good enough. You are a skinny blonde girl who lives by the beach, and unless you absolutely force them to, no one is ever going to expect anything from you in this sport. You prove them wrong.

who were under seventeen entering the Tournament. ‘Who’s this impartial judge who’s going to decide who the champions are?’ said Harry. ‘Dunno,’ said Fred, ‘but it’s them we’ll have to fool. I reckon a couple of drops of Ageing Potion might do it, George …’ ‘Dumbledore knows you’re not of age, though,’ said Ron. ‘Yeah, but he’s not the one who decides who the champion is, is he?’ said Fred shrewdly. ‘Sounds to me like once this judge knows who wants to enter, he’ll choose the best from

What if Briony’s right?” Alistair asked. Isobel stiffened. That wasn’t what she’d expected him to say. “If she is, it would be…we would be…” The ghost of an expression crossed his face. Because Isobel had never seen it on him, it took her several moments to recognize it. Hope. She squeezed his hand tight enough for him to wince. “Al. It’s just a fantasy.” The more she swelled on it, the more she realized it should’ve been no surprise that Briony had fallen victim to such notions. It wasn’t good enough for Briony to just be champion—she had to be better than all of them. The hero she’d always dreamed of. “Haven’t we always been living in a fantasy?” he murmured. Alistair had nearly sacrificed himself for her in the forest. She had kissed a spellboard coated in his blood. She had used every healing spellstone she had to drag him back to the living. But Isobel couldn’t hide from the truth any longer. When it came to the tournament, none of that mattered. They would not have a happy ending.

1. Linus Malthus "Winning is just the snow that came down yesterday"   Founder of total football. Tactical revolutionary who created the foundation of modern football  저희는 7가지 철칙을 바탕으로 거래를 합니다. 고객들과 지키지못할약속은 하지않습니다 1.정품보장 2.총알배송 3.투명한 가격 4.편한 상담 5.끝내주는 서비스 6.고객님 정보 보호 7.깔끔한 거래 [경영항목] 엑스터시,신의눈물,lsd,아이스,캔디,대마초,떨,마리화나,프로포폴,에토미데이트,해피벌륜등많은제품판매하고있습니다 믿고 주문해주세요~저희는 제품판매를 고객님들과 신용과신뢰의 거래로 하고있습니다. 제품효과 못보실 그럴일은 없지만 만의하나 효과못보시면 저희가 1차재발송과 2차 환불까지 약속합니다 텔레【KC98K】카톡【ACD5】라인【SPR331】 The only winner in the international major tournament, Holland, the best soccer line of football 2. Sir Alex Ferguson Mr.Man Utd   The Red Boss The best director in soccer history (most of the past soccer coach rankings are the top picks) It is the most obvious that shows how important the director is in football.   Manchester United's 27-year-old championship, the spiritual stake of all United players and fans, Manchester United itself 3. Theme Mourinho "I do not pretend to be arrogant, because I'm all true, I am a European champion, I am not one of the cunning bosses around, I think I am Special One." The Special One The cost of counterattack after a player Charming world with charisma and poetry The director who has the most violent career of soccer directors 4. Pep Guardiola A man who achieved the world's first and only six treasures beyond treble. Make a team with a page of football history 5. Ottmar Hitzfeld Borussia Dortmund and Bayern are the best directors in Munich history. Legendary former football manager of Germany Sir Alex Ferguson's rival

Tournament. For months, every team in the country has a goal of making it to the tournament. Then, at the end of the season, 64 teams are selected from various parts of the country. As the tournament progresses, teams are eliminated one-by-one until, at the end of the season, the team remaining is named the national champion. Among all of the participants who began at the beginning of the season, and among all the top 64 who actually made the tournament, only one team comes out on top. If this is our only goal, the majority of us are doomed

As des Roches moved to intercept one of the duke’s knights, William charged forward to confront Richard himself. The great tournament champion was about to meet the Lionheart in single combat.

Baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes

Emcee. “Not him! He’s just a kid.” Their attacks slammed against his shield, rocking him. “What are you doing, you idiot?” Jimmy yelled at Dad, his face red with rage. The brief moment was all the time needed for the command block to get a tendril under itself and launch back onto Emcee. Time froze like someone had pressed the pause button. Emcee’s head glowed red again, and he floated into the air. “You’ve made a serious mistake,” he said, but the voice was unlike any time he’d spoken before. Deep and throaty like a frog that grew human vocal chords. “Now you will be punished for that mistake.” Emcee clapped his hands and a ball of light erupted from him in an omnidirectional nova. Everything the light touched — including all the contestants — disintegrated into a haze

Sorry, this is a sword fight, not an emo contest.” Jack landed another hit, flashing Trenchcoat red again.

I’m Anastasia, and I’m one of the tournament officials,” she said. “Because Dae-jung is ill, he has to forfeit his match to you. That means you won’t play this morning, but you’ll still have a match this afternoon.” Paris processed this for a moment and answered, “No.” “I’m sorry?” Anastasia said, surprised. “I believe you’ve misinterpreted the rules,” he said. “In what way?” asked Anastasia, slightly peeved. “Dae-jung only forfeits if I show up but he fails to,” Paris answered. “Which is exactly what has happened,” she replied. “Except I have to be in the players’ hall when the match is set to begin,” he explained. “That’s five minutes from now. If neither of us is here, then the match is ruled a draw.” Even amid all that was happening, Mother, Jia-Hui, and Jin-sun were all touched by this declaration. Anastasia, however, was baffled. “Do you realize that if you simply stay in the room, you will win the game and with it will be the champion of the tournament?” Paris stood up straight and looked right into her eyes. “Do you realize that I have absolutely no intention of winning anything that way?

Baked potatoes,” said Carl. “Baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes,

Like when Peter Parker didn’t go to the science fair, so Gwen Stacy did and she was bit by the radioactive spider and became Spider-Gwen.

This is going to be fun.” He grinned.

Are you all right, Alex?” Dave asked. “I’ve just been thinking,” said Alex. “Do you think if a cow and a bee had a baby, you could get honey-flavored milk?” Spidroth rolled her eyes. “I’m surrounded by morons.

Are you all right, Alex?” Dave asked. “I’ve just been thinking,” said Alex. “Do you think if a cow and a bee had a baby, you could get honey-flavored milk?” Spidroth rolled her eyes. “I’m surrounded by morons.” “I think it’s a good question, Alex,” said Carl. “Maybe I could breed a baked potato with a cow and get baked potato flavored milk.

ever thought of this before.” “No one’s ever thought of it before because it’s completely stupid,” snapped Spidroth. “You have the mind of an infant!” “Thank you, Lady Spidroth.

The heat from the summer sun made Jimmy

he is no longer with us. He truly was a great kitty and he truly did fart a lot. Now

baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes.

Imagine god appeared and said you’d have a great career, winning dozens of tournaments. You just keep working hard, I taken care of the results. And the vision ends before the golfer asks god which tournaments he’d win and when he’d win them. He’d play from that time on, with supreme confidence.

her mouth with a spoon. “You started it. Remember?

out

All

command block. The block was blood-red, with square metal panels on each side covered

multiverse.

Now you must create a world of your own, the command block whispered. A world where you can bring your champions.

gas,

Oh yes, the command block replied. It’s going to be very fun indeed.

rainbow,

Huh?

book.

Whaaaaat?

Jack who scowled at her.

The cat had earned his name from the white stripe that went from his nose all the way up to his forehead and looked like a scar. He was also a talented ninja and he often stank. Badly.

Or at least he thought he was. The two of them, along with their parents and pet cat, Bruce Lee the Scar-Faced Ninja Attack Kitty from Japan (Who Smells like Poop), woke up one day in Minecraft after going to bed in their own world. They had no idea how it happened, and they were working

tirelessly to figure out

how to get back.

I’ll give their butts such a kicking that they’ll need to buy replacement butts.

Swords were pulled. Fists were shaken. Fools were identified. Old beans were admonished.

Block has been writing unofficial Minecraft-inspired fanfiction since 2015 and is the author of over 100 books and collections. His most popular books are the Diary of a Surfer Villager (where Jimmy and his friends go on adventures), the Ballad of Winston the Wandering Trader, and Baby Zeke: Diary of a Chicken Jockey. When he’s not writing books or playing video games, Dr. Block likes to spend his time surfing near his house, gardening in his backyard, and spending time with his wife and two teenage children. Although Dr. Block is not

Larry lost friends in battle,” said the warden, his voice slow and confused. “Will Larry’s friends be coming back?

Baked potatoes,” said Carl. “Baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes, baked potatoes,

There are national championship banners, Final Four banners, ACC Tournament championship banners, ACC regular season championship banners, NCAA Tournament banners, NIT banners, and “honored”—not retired—numbers. It appears that about half the players who ever put on a Carolina uniform are “honored.” Valvano looked at all the banners and pointed at one that said “ACC Champions” in huge letters. “What’s that writing at the bottom?” he asked. “I can’t read it.” The writing at the bottom said “Regular Season Tie.” “So let me get this straight,” Valvano said. “They tie for a regular season title and they put up a banner?” When this was confirmed, Valvano smiled. “Okay, now I’ve figured out what I’m going to do. I’m going to put up a banner for 1985 that says ‘National Champions!’ Then at the bottom, in tiny little letters, I’ll put ‘almost.’ After that, I’ll do the same thing for 1986. Damn, I just won my third national championship…almost.

They’re no match for my ninja moves,” Alex said, bending her knees and holding her hands flat like ax heads. “I’ll give their butts such a kicking that they’ll need to buy replacement butts.

Montreal was the location of ice hockey’s first formal game (1875), its first published rules (1877), its first official club (1877), its first major tournament (1883), its first intercity league (1886) and its first national champion (1893).11 That occurred when the reigning governor general, Lord Frederick Stanley of Preston, presented his famous Cup, and a five-team league—three of which were from Montreal—settled on its winner.12 For much of this time, hockey as an organized sport had been marginal and largely unknown in Toronto.

begrudgingly

You know them, right? The team that once had Messi, Neymar, and Mbappé all at the same time? How did they ever lose?

he claimed the Mona Lisa had just farted and that’s why she looked so pleased with herself.

After we win this whole tournament, I’m gonna give that guy a piece of my mind.” “Don’t do it, Jimmy,” Tina said. “You won’t have much mind left.

Bruh.

My mind is precise,” said Alex, crossing her arms. “As precise as a potato.

#18

pushed the ball forward, and recovered it a step ahead of him. That one step was all I needed. With Riess safely behind me, I pushed the ball into a beautiful square of empty wet grass, rain dripping down my face. Ahead of me, John had his back to his defender, waiting for the pass. I gave it to him and surged forward. Using his bulky body to shield his defender, John slipped me a one-touch give-and-go, feeding me the ball at the penalty spot. The pass was perfect. Now

And so, the two Moms engaged in a battle of Looks. They stared at each other, trying to force the other one to bow to her will. Both were experts in the art of ‘The Look’.

Beppo

Before anyone else could say anything, a loud “Meow!” was heard out of the dark sky. Everyone’s head whipped up to watch as Bruce swooped through the air, his elytra wings reflecting the firelight. His claws were out and he speared the potato, zipping off into the air again. Carl sat there, blinking at his empty hands. And then he freaked out. “AHHHH! Why is that cat flying? What kind of idiot would give a cat wings?” Spidroth laughed. “I like that cat.

Something’s off with Bobby,” Edmondson said. Benson didn’t think that Edmondson was referring to Fischer’s legendary eccentricities. Edmondson had once mentioned with a laugh that Bobby was afraid of Soviet agents tracking him, but this probably wasn’t it either. “In what sense?” Something was off with the majority of people Benson dealt with, so he needed further clarification. “Psychiatric.” Evidently, Edmondson was serious, but for now, Benson approached it with skepticism. “Is it a problem? Since he’s winning grandmaster tournaments.” “Imagine he wins the Candidates Matches, and then something happens to him before the World Championship match. Or during it. There is big money and the future of chess in America at stake. Not to mention settling scores with the Soviets. You know that the chess championship is the apple of their eye. We’re going to pluck it out from them. I just need to know where I stand and what to expect. After all, I can’t send Bobby for an examination.

ALBUS: First question. What do you know about the Triwizard Tournament? SCORPIUS: (happy) Ooooh, a quiz! Three schools pick three champions to compete in three tasks for one Cup. What’s that got to do with anything? ALBUS: You really are an enormous geek, you know that? SCORPIUS: Ya-huh.

Champions keep it in perspective.  They are able to accept responsibility and recognize the situation as a temporary setback nothing more, nothing less.  Yes it hurts, so they look at it, learn from it, and then let it go.  I’ve lost myself, of course. In fact, that was how I met Leo-tai in the first place. I was a young martial artist competing in tournaments and I’d just lost a major international competition—worse still, one that I’d been really expecting to win. I was having a tough time with the loss. People kept telling me, “You still did great!” But runner-up wasn’t what I’d wanted to be.  As time went by, in response to my annoyance with myself, my training tailed off, my determination flagged, and everything seemed either too boring or too difficult to fuss about.  I was slacking off. I remember an older kid asking me once if I had ever heard of Coach Leo. “I don’t think so,” I said. “What does he teach?” “Mostly Shaolin—Chinese Kickboxing, but he teaches other things too.  He really helped me once with my training.” “So, how’d he help then?” I asked, interested. “Call him, here’s his number.  He only teaches small classes.  Tell him you know me.” I carried that sheet of paper around with me for about two weeks.  Finally I thought, “Well, what have I got to lose?”  I called him and told him about myself.  Coach Leo listened quietly on the phone, so much so that I began to wonder if he’d wandered off or hung up. “Come tomorrow,” he told me, and that ended our conversation. When the next day came, I almost didn’t go.  I kept asking myself, “Why did I call this coach?”  I was looking for a reason to miss our appointment.  But before I knew it, and despite my best efforts to talk myself out of it, I wound up knocking on his door and then there he was.  A medium-sized, elderly, rather stoic figure, his face calm and genuine.

Will you joust today, my lord?” she asked him. Clegane’s voice was thick with contempt. “Wouldn’t be worth the bother of arming myself. This is a tournament of gnats.” The king laughed. “My dog has a fierce bark. Perhaps I should command him to fight the day’s champion. To the death.” Joffrey was fond of making men fight to the death.

It's okay to be the champion of the tournament. But there is also something called the people's champion. It was one thing to win, another to win hearts. Which one do you want to be?

The time after I won the title of Grandmaster brought with it my first experience of the aftermath of obsessively chasing a goal. I was suddenly left without a purpose. I felt empty and bored, almost listless. All this while, I had been solely fixated on a singular pursuit. But once I got to my destination I kept looking back rather than at fresh peaks. I didn’t know what to do with myself. Tournaments and scores didn’t excite me any more, and my results took a beating. For six months I was caught on a conveyor belt of despair. It was through my interactions with other Grandmasters on my travels for overseas tournaments that I realized this was a normal phase and one that almost all players experienced. Sometimes, a goal can be such a big deal, such an all-consuming theme in our lives, that we just don’t know what to look forward to any more after we’ve achieved it. Gradually, I managed to pull myself back together, just in time for the next phase of my life as a chess player to begin.

According to her, cursed aren’t magick’s natural state. You need to twist the power into that shape, and it will do everything it can to resist you. So you have to mean them. Death curses especially. If your command is weak, the curse won’t work—or worse.” He gave her a pointed look. Isobel nearly rolled her eyes. Meaning a curse was pointless. The sort of idea a villain would fancy. Crafting enchantments was a neutral art. But she wouldn’t tell him that. She was completely powerless in the lair of the tournament’s most infamous champion, alive based only on his mood swings. Survival meant swallowing her insults and forcing a smile. “Maybe you can help, then,” she said, as though she’d offered him the page he’d grabbed from her. He scoffed. “I can’t teach you how to be wicked.

The green jackets were the exclusive attire of the past champions of the Masters tournament. This was their one night of the year to wear them. And no one was allowed to take them home.

It’s all right,’ said Moody, sitting down and stretching out his wooden leg with a groan. ‘Cheating’s a traditional part of the Triwizard Tournament and always has been.’ ‘I didn’t cheat,’ said Harry sharply. ‘It was – a sort of accident that I found out.’ Moody grinned. ‘I wasn’t accusing you, laddie. I’ve been telling Dumbledore from the start, he can be as high minded as he likes, but you can bet old Karkaroff and Maxime won’t be. They’ll have told their champions everything they can. They want to win. They want to beat Dumbledore. They’d like to prove he’s only human.

For the prediction of football matches, it is possible to use Bet9ja vip, that is, to provide a data analysis program with as much information as possible and variables that allow a prediction to be made that is closest to the actual result. They are bookmakers, sports television channels, sports newspapers, sections of this area of printed and digital newspapers, and the same soccer teams, who make predictions of football matches and tournaments using Bet9ja vip and analytical programs, through the use of a predictive mathematics that is based on a very extensive menu of data that is processed once obtained. The data used are the variables that combine to define possible outcomes: team history, evaluation and soccer background of each player, statistics of wins and losses, results of teams as visitors and locals, technical, mental and emotional evaluation of each player, figures of results with teams that a team will face, strategies and tactics with which it has won and lost, climatic variables of the places where it is played, characteristics of each stadium including the behaviour of the people, political and economic variables of the countries where a team will play (in case of international games), among others. The combination of these variables makes it possible to predict football matches and tournaments, in particular of a football world cup where 32 teams face each other and where it is possible to apply the stated variables with a margin of error of approximately 20%; that is to say, that the use of Bet9ja vip to predict a Football Tournament has between 70% and 80% probability of hitting. All in all, the variables of a match and an international soccer tournament, the most important on the planet, that is, a World Cup, are so wide and diverse that we are only in conditions -from Bet9ja vip, analysis programs and even Machine Learning- to partially predict them. So to the question: is it possible to predict who will be the World Cup champion? we can answer that not absolutely and safely, and yes in a tendential and approximate manner; that is, if we use the Bet9ja vip correctly to predict each of the matches of the Tournament and predict who will be the champion of the same, we have between 70% and 80% margin to avoid mistakes. Therefore, when placing your bets, even when you rely on Bet9ja vip to perform them, bear in mind that there are variables that cannot be predicted, so there is no science that predicts with complete certainty their behaviour; finally human actions, in particular a game like soccer, are full of surprises and contingencies that we cannot control or predict yet.

The living room walls were crowded with trophies for excellence in the martial arts. Hundreds of them. Gleaming first-place cups and championship belts from exhibitions and tournaments all over the United States. Best All-Around. In Recognition of Excellence. Black Belt Master. Over-All Champion. “Don’t worry about this stuff,” I said. “The guy probably bought’m.” Pike said, “Uh-huh.