In which Our Hero finally beats himself
I loved it when a classmate called me a douche. It raised a key question: Am I a douche?
To that, I had to answer yes. Because anyone who steamrolls friends at silly games is a douche. And I’d been playing silly games to win, despite frequently being much better than others.
A knight without chivalry is a douche. An assassin without honor is a douche. The powerful, when they flex on the powerless, are acting like a douche.
(He said this after I grabbed a ball he was juggling. Not a big deal. Still, a douche.)
I wrote in my notebook: Stop always playing to win. Try playing to play.
Then we started wall ball.
Wall ball is simple: hit the ball, it hits the wall, bounces once, next player hits. Compared to my group, I’m very skilled at wall ball. Last time I won the tournament (ahem, ladies 😉)
This time, I decided to try play. My game:
- Don’t die.
- Give the next player the easiest possible hit.
Using this approach, I eliminated only one person (on a challenging shot where a gentle hit might have put myself at risk). Still, I reached the finals.
At the finals, a question arose: keep playing my game, or now play to win?
I chose my game. Either he’d win, or he’d beat himself.
First to three wins.
He won the first point.
He mis-hits. All tied up.
I thunked one off the side.
He botched another.
Two-two. Next point wins.
He fired a zinger to the corner: unreturnable. He wins.
The crowd went wild.
Everyone loves seeing David beat Goliath.
I cheered too. It felt better than winning the tournament. That had been awkward. This was joy. I led the chant: “Speech! Speech! Speech!”
The victor obliged.
I don’t think I’ve ever thrown a game before. This didn’t feel like throwing. It felt like optimizing for something bigger.
I didn’t lose. I won at a bigger game.
Sometimes the point of the game is play.
In theater, the point of the game is the play.
—
Later, our class watched another student play a game on stage with the same man I’d met in the finals.
The student was far more skilled. My teacher said:
“When you play with someone much worse than you, you must have good humor.”
That’s why I’m here.
To learn good humor.
Julian Wise 