I have, in the past, unabashedly called Eric my favorite Blitzer. I suspect he will remain so. He was truly a class act. Never complained about game play. Could care less about rules, whatever optional personal rules you had were fine by him. Winning and losing—unimportant. Sometimes I felt playing the game was just an excuse to interact with all of us. He adored football. Rarely an email without a mention of the G-men or "the boys" or Belicheat.
He had a balls-to-the-wall play style. I'd be busy setting up defenses and trying to remain hidden when suddenly eight billion Soviets soldiers would coming running into view, overstacked, hurling themselves through my minefields, so many loaded transports I couldn't shoot them all. Four or five paniccy turns of shooting, stumbling back to avoid overruns, more chaos, smoke finally clearing and then the inevitable email: "Dave! Congratulations on your fine victory! How about we play [insert scenario name here] next? What's up with Eli? His passing looked off against the boys...
Odd to miss someone I've never met, but he was my friend, as he was all of ours (he played nearly everyone on the ladder), and I miss him greatly. I think I will forever.
Godspeed Eric.
Resolve then, that on this very ground, with small flags waving and tinny blasts on tiny trumpets, we shall meet the enemy, and not only may he be ours, he may be us. --Walt Kelly
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