When I was a boy, my father taught me how to play chess. We played fairly regularly, once or twice a week. He almost always beat me at first. But the more we played, the more I started to win. Eventually, I beat him almost every time. He started complaining that the pieces were too small, the lighting was poor, or he was busy, and, well, we stopped playing.
By that point I was in middle school. I played with a few school friends, then I heard about a county chess tournament with a youth division. I registered for it.
I won a couple of games, then got crushed in one against a high school student. But I still ended up taking 6th!
In high school I helped to found a chess club, becoming the president. I pretty consistently beat everyone, including a friend who was the vice president. By senior year he was obviously growing increasingly frustrated whenever we played and as I consistently won. At the same time, I was getting involved with other interests, including being on a couple of sports teams, dating, and writing. So, my chess playing outside the club decreased.
My freshman year of college I barely played chess. My friend went to a college out of state, and he wrote occasionally. He mentioned that he found some folks to play chess with there and he looked forward to playing me again when he got back for the summer. He also mentioned that he had taken one of my poems, submitted it for a class assignment claiming he had written it, and got a good grade. He thought I'd be pleased that the poem had gotten a good grade. I wasn't.
Summer arrived and my friend came back. We met, talked about our college experiences, and played a game of chess. He soundly defeated me. He was ecstatic. He said that he had spent the year studying chess books just to get ready to face me again.
It was kind of weird, and troubling. He'd spent a year obsessed about beating me at a board game?
That was about the last time that I saw him. We didn't avoid each other, but we certainly didn't seek each other out. I haven't seen him in years.
The incident got me to thinking. Once an avid chess player, I had slacked off because life had intervened. But also, I had realized that I had reached a certain level of proficiency, and if I wanted to get better, I would really have to dedicate myself to practicing and studying chess. I'd have to give up some of my other activities. For a board game?
Plus, to be honest, I was not certain I really could rise to the top levels. I was good, but not that good.
I'd had a similar experience with the one sport I was good in, bowling. I had risen to the level of a being a good high school bowler - winning in several leagues and becoming a member to the school's team, even earning a letter - but if I wanted to get really good, I knew I would have to bowl a lot more. That would have more cost more money than I had - I was paying my own way through college. Bowling became another thing I decided was less important.
Years later, I encountered another game with which I had some skill: Scrabble.
I played socially and soon found myself seeking out games with good players. We even held what we called "cutthroat" games to which only certain skilled players were invited to play. Then our city hosted a Scrabble tournament. Players were coming in from all over the Northeast, and even Canada. I registered.
The first day, I won every game I played, including defeating one of Canada's top players! I also won an award for the single highest score on one play.
I was invited back the second day for the championship rounds. I lost both games I played. Sigh.
In talking with some of the other players, ones who competed in tournaments and for cash, they all talked about all the hours of studying and practicing that they did. They were obsessively dedicated. I realized that while I enjoyed the game, there were other things I needed to focus on: My marriage, my children, my church, my career, my writing.
I haven't competed in a Scrabble tournament since. Oh, I still play, just like I occasionally play chess. But I have more important things in my life.
I suppose what I realized is what would have been true of me is true of so many other people who rise to the top levels in such activities as sports and games. Yes, some are able to balance their lives, God bless them, but there are many who did not succeed is doing so. How many of them are so dedicated to the activity they are emotionally, mentally, or spiritual stunted? How many of them find that when age finally limits their abilities they have little to fall back on? How many of them faced years of mental illness, broken relationships and marriages, addiction, criminal activities, bankruptcy, and so on. Think of Bobby Fischer, Junior Seau, Todd Marinovich, and more.
Are games really that important?
As for me, I just hope someday I'll be able to play the word "checkmate" in Scrabble. That should be worth a few points!
