So, a quintuple whopper to take and a quintuple whopper to give. I wasn't there so I can't second-guess Mochy who might now be styled "The Assassin." Of course, I need not point out that an apropos anagram of "Orenthal James Simpson" is "Ninja mesomorph steals."
A certain great player I know of made a quintuple whopper in a certain lower-profile match that I have a certain intimate familiarity with. It's embarrassing, but that's the way it goes.
I remember missing the fact that I could hit two checkers, in the heat of a quarterfinal in a huge tournament. I hit one and left the other. ("How'd I do that?? Don't steam now, don't steam.") Quintuple whopper? Probably not, but awful. Anyway, I must have made at least one quintuple whopper too late in life--hopefully no worse than that. A sextuple whopper, now that would be just too much!
Even Da Wife (not Octomom but Nonamom), who plays only against me once in a blue moon, isn't in the habit of eating nonuple whoppers or other monstrous burger-things. "Ask Nona" often yields the second-best or third-best play in very difficult positions with many choices, so I amuse myself by recording examples where some good player went way wrong. "See, you did better than in this position, and this one, and...."