Welcome to New York

A buddy had a Medical Issue. He hadn’t spent a night away from home for the last 6 months. I told him he should visit. I asked what he needs. He described to me a Minor Medical Necessity that he needs every day – something akin to using a needle to draw blood. He’s squeamish around blood, so a family member helps him. We hopped on video while his family member performed the task. 

I’m not super squeamish, so I gave the thumbs-up. Less than 24 hours later, he arrived to my guest room. 

Today at 1pm, we went to a play. At 4:10pm, we left the play. At 4:30pm, we arrived at a friend’s birthday party. At 8pm, I left the party. My friend stayed behind. The time is now 11pm. I assume he’s still there. He hasn’t socialized outside of his family in a long time. He’s a severe night owl. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s out until 2 or 3am. 

His family member texted me, asking how the Minor Medical Necessity went. We haven’t done it yet. I didn’t expect him to stay out so late. Perhaps we’ll perform it when he returns at 3am. Or perhaps this “every day” will be a 36-hour stretch between two performings. It’s an odd situation where I’m responsible for doing it, but I don’t feel responsible for making it happen. (I’ve shared this perspective with him. He must habeas the corpus. If he’s out til 9am, I’m not going to see him til the morning.) 

I made for this guy a nice evening. I had a nice time at the birthday party. My friend enjoyed it even more than me. 

He just called me. He’s not coming back for a while. He’s befriended a few people. He wants to have them over for board games. I asked about the Minor Medical Necessity. He says it’s fine: we can do it in the morning. 

I’m not a doctor, and this wasn’t laughter, but I think ‘tis a helpful dose of medicine. 

The next morning I awoke to this message: 

Games Played: 

  • After listening to yesterdays npr story, one reader sent in the town of Show Low, AZ. 

Finding the fun

Yesterday something clicked. The renovation will be fine. I need to chill out. Remain detail-oriented and semi-obsessed. But chill the fuck out. 

Today, I met with my contractor. We spent a while admiring the space. I told him he’s doing a great job. I meant it. The project is moving forward at its expected speed. The quality is excellent. The team is calling out potential improvements. We’re ~3 weeks in, and we’re slightly ahead of schedule, without cutting corners. Not bad. 

I’m afraid of problems. Perhaps rightfully so. Problems are bad. I’ll figure it out. Freaking out doesn’t help. 

Tomorrow, I call the Department of Buildings inspector. I buy a vanity or two. I adjust the lighting plan. I inspect the roof. All worth doing. All positive. 

In every life we have some trouble, but when you worry you make it double. 

There is fun – calm fun – underneath everything. Stressed? Accept it. Excited? Accept it. Tired? Accept it. 

I’ve found the fun. 

Professional doubles tennis is broken

And the solutions are making it worse.

Wednesday night at the US Open, the mixed doubles semifinals started warming up at 7pm; each match lasted around 1hr20min, so with breaks between the matches we finished around 11:45pm. Two semifinals and a final in a single evening. Muchová and Menšík took it 6-3, 1-6, 10-6.

That compression is the entire point of the new format. People don’t like doubles tennis as much. Instead of making it better, they’re trying to make less of it. I think there are better moves. 

Tennis is a subdivided game. 4 points win a game, 6 games win a set, 2 (or 3) sets win a match. Why the subdivisions? Why win by two?

Because tennis crushes your soul. You spend ten minutes crunching point after point toward winning a game, only for all that work to be valueless when you lose that game. The same applies to sets: I don’t care how much work you put into the set, 1-6 or 5-7 both count as the same loss.

The subdivisions create the drama. They also create enthusiasm. Game points matter more than normal points. Set points matter even more. Deuce returns the game to an active stall: two jousters on idling motorcycles rich sparking with potential energy. Advantage is better still: one player a point from victory, the other a point from losing everything they just built.

The attempts to “improve” the game make it shorter and worse. Doubles removed advantage. 40-40 is still called “deuce”, but it’s now next point wins, rather than win by two. This change isn’t new:  the ATP has run no-ad doubles since 2006, which means the ratchet has been turning for twenty years. I’m writing now because it’s accelerating. 

This year, the US Open shortened the set too. In the mixed doubles championship, every match except the final is first to 4 games instead of first to 6. And they’ve replaced the third set entirely (final included): instead of playing games, it’s a “match tiebreak”, first to ten points.

That’s how you fit the semifinals and the final into one night.

The problem? Less-engaging games. If you have a bad game, the solution is not making it shorter. This is the classic mistake a promoter makes when they note “people have short attention spans these days”.

Don’t make it shorter. Make it better. Tennis lives on the drama. The excitement. The possibility. The heartbreak. Don’t give me less of that. Give me more.

Look elsewhere

Tennis has multiple levels: a match consists of sets which contain games which contain points. The US Open is making alterations at the set level. That’s the wrong level. The problem isn’t that doubles points come in sixes instead of fours. The problem is the points.

Only around ⅛ of doubles points are engaging (e.g. involving an impressive show of athleticism, or great strategy/tactics, or a large swing in likelihood of who wins the point). Compare that to ~⅓ in singles. And in singles between strong competitors, even when one player serves ace after ace, the mental game makes up for the disappointing physical game. Doubles has no such cover.

So make the point more interesting.

To do that, restrict the ability to hit winners. The first time a point goes hard-serve → barely-successful-return → smash, it’s cool. By the third time, it’s repetitive. By the thirtieth, you’re on your phone. (People actually left the tournament audience between the semifinals and the finals!) 

How to limit winners? Mandate that the ball’s second bounce be within some designated line arena. The game goes from pound-pound-pound to much more finesse.

It’s also a change tennis players could easily adjust to. You’re not moving the lines (they have years of muscle memory hitting exactly those places) and you’re not adding new restrictions on which shots are legal (eg pickleball’s no-volley zone). You’re limiting the players’ targeting and power, which is already in their wheelhouse. Tennis doesn’t become a fundamentally different sport: you just basically make one version of killshot illegal. 

(A worse idea, for contrast: scrap the finish line entirely and make every game win-by-two from zero. Every point matters. You don’t get the comebacks from 0-40, but you give every point more potential energy. I don’t think this is a good idea. But I think it’s still better than simply making the match shorter.)

The US Open has pumped money into the mixed doubles championship and restructured the seeding to encourage big names to play it. It worked, for two nights. But none of it makes the game better. I like watching tennis. Yet after viewing the mixed doubles at this tournament, I have no interest in watching Serena WIlliams and Carlos Alcaraz play mixed doubles just as I have no interest in watching them do laundry. Even if someone were drawn once by the famous names, they’d be unlikely to return due to the unenjoyable structure. Pumping money into a bad structure is like adding fuel to an unstable fire: you create a flash in the pan. 

You improve the game long-term by actually improving the game. Stop experimenting at the meta-structure and actually make the points fun.

Bad-with-possibility is still bad

This post requires knowledge of the game Starcraft: Brood War. For those unfamiliar, skip to the bottom for an AI-assisted translation. 

Even if you’ve studied the deepest recesses of a bad strategic pathway, it’s still a bad strategic pathway. 

In season 10 of the Starcraft Broodwar ASL tournament, Protoss player Bisu cannon-rushed his Zerg opponent, Shine. The Zerg had fast-expanded despite the mineral structure in the natural expansion making cannon rushes incredibly difficult to block and Bisu being literally the person who invented the forge fast-expand (so he’s almost definitely going to have a forge!). 

After the cannon rush kills Shine’s expansion, Shine switches into lurker drops, where he sneaks two lurkers into the mineral lines of Bisu’s main base’s before Bisu has detection. 

Bisu micros for a hectic ~4 minutes, but holds this counter and wins.

The kicker: maybe Shine intended this all to happen. He’s the sort of player who finds a weird timing and takes his opponent down this unusual pathway. The sort of player who would “bait” Bisu into attempting a cannon rush so he could catch Bisu off-guard with the lurker drop. 

But even in that case, Shine would have had to throw away 300 minerals, his first set of zerglings, and a small handful of drones. Not worth it! 

Don’t get yourself into a bad position because there’s a chance you can win it. Get yourself into weird positions because they’re actually superior. 

AI-assisted translation: 

Two players face off. One of them, Bisu, is the most famous practitioner of a particular safe, standard opening — an opening that involves building a defensive structure early. Everyone knows this about him. It’s his signature move.

His opponent, Shine, chooses to expand his economy early anyway, on a map where that expansion is unusually hard to defend against exactly the kind of aggression Bisu’s signature structure enables. It’s like dropping your guard in a duel against the man who invented the thrust that goes exactly there.

Bisu does the obvious thing. He attacks the expansion and kills it. Shine loses the investment, the units he’d built to protect it, and part of his workforce.

So Shine pivots. He sneaks two units into the heart of Bisu’s home base — units that Bisu, at that moment, literally cannot see, because he hasn’t built the thing that lets him see them. For about four minutes, Bisu is fighting blind against something that can kill his entire economy. He survives it by hand, one frantic decision at a time. Then he wins.

Here’s the interesting part: Shine may have wanted all of this. He’s known for finding strange timings, for dragging opponents onto unfamiliar ground. It’s completely plausible that the undefended expansion was bait — that the whole point was to make Bisu commit to the attack so that the counterattack would land on an unprepared base.

And even if that’s true: the bait cost him a large chunk of his economy, his first defensive units, and several workers. He engineered a situation where he had to play nearly perfectly, against one of the best players alive, just to get back to even.

A trap that costs more than it catches is not a trap. It’s a loss with a story attached.

Don’t take a bad position because you can imagine winning from it. Take a weird position because it’s actually better.

Sing, Talk, Play

Walking down 113th st in Harlem, a man jumps out at Partner and says, “Boo!” 
Partner responds by singing “It’s a hard knock life!” in his face. (The song they were playing on their boombox.)
He laughs. 

At the gym, I asked the lifter in front of me: “Can I use the 70s for a set?” He said sure. I returned the 70s. I saw his jacket. “Did you go to Yale SOM?” He says no, but he was admitted and chose Columbia instead. 
We talked for the next 20 minutes. We exchanged phone numbers, then I did my last two sets and met Partner in the lobby. He walked out shortly after that. The three of us went to an Ethiopian restaurant together. Everyone is a stranger until they’re a friend. 

This afternoon, I taught a couple friends how to play a card game (tichu). It took two hands for them to get the rules, and the strategy would take even longer. I wanted them to learn the strategy faster, so we did an open hand: I walked through the logic in different spots. They would have learned much of this strategy eventually, but I’d rather they learn faster, and they’d rather start on level two. 

All-Gender Urinals

At the theater yesterday, I entered the door that said, “All-gender restroom: urinals” to find three urinals and a toilet, all open-air. The closest urinal was occupied by a man peeing. The farthest urinal was inaccessible due to a trashcan in front of it. I approached the second urinal. 

A woman followed in behind me. She looked at me, the other guy peeing, and the toilet. She turned to leave, then stopped herself. She sat down on the toilet, lowered her underwear (she was wearing a dress), and began to pee. The other man finished his business, washed his hands, and left. A man opened the door, saw her, said, “Oh, sorry!” and left. The peeing woman said something to him along the lines of, “No, it’s fine! Feel free to come in” 

I finished my business and washed my hands. She commented to me, “I was going to leave, but then I thought, ‘If it’s okay for you guys to do it, it should be fine for me, too.’” 

Just one of many reasons I plan on marrying her. 

Meh-ntalist

In freshman year of highschool, my theater teacher told me: “There are no magicians. There are only actors pretending to be magicians.” 

Tonight we saw neither. 

Suhani Shah bills herself as “the world’s most subscribed mentalist. I have no way of disproving that claim. 

What I can disprove: 

  1. Around ~30 minutes into the show, she wrote a number on a whiteboard, attempting to match the number that had been written while she was blindfolded. She failed. The audience did not clap. She commented on the audience not clapping. I told her “It’s wrong.” (I was on stage at the time as an audience participant.) 
  2. Around 3 minutes later, she told me and the other on-stage participant to select one of us to draw on the board, and tell her who it was. We neglected to tell her. She incorrectly guessed it was me. 
  3. There was another part where she had someone say a number that was on their mind. The reveal was to be EITHER that she had written the number both on the white board AND on a piece of paper already on stage, OR that she was wrong on the whiteboard as a dramatic intensity-heightener, and then MAGICALLY CORRECT with the paper on the stage. I can’t tell which, because 1) the numbers didn’t match, and 2) she didn’t play off the note-being-correct in a way that was obvious or compelling. 
  4. At ~the 75th minute, she performed an actually-shocking trick that I have no idea how she did. (She received random three-to-five-digit numbers from the audience, which combined with an audience member’s “random” button presses of additional numbers summed to the first 6 numbers on a twenty dollar bill and a pre-written scroll.)
    1. Okay, I actually just figured out one way she could do it: have the “calculator” app not actually be a true calculator, but be a program which only looks like a calculator but actually inputs the desired digits at the audience member’s presses. 

Today was her first day performing in New York. On ~3 occasions, she found herself a bit bowled over by audience members being very forward. For an audience-participation show, New Yorker culture is, I would suspect, quite specific. We move fast. Give us an inch and we’ll take it immediately. Say to the audience, “We need someone with a handkerchief. Raise your hand if you have one. One of you, join me onstage.” and someone will arrive immediately. 

She also mocked the audience participants more than I’m familiar with. This may be a cultural difference, but it rubbed me a bit the wrong way. (Partner didn’t notice or care.)

If you’re a mentalist, your job is to seem like you’re doing magic. Part of that success comes from playing off your mistakes well. 

Tonight was opening night. In two weeks, I hope she’s more successful. 

Sometimes You need a Pre-Conversation

Partner & I should have had the pre-conversation earlier. 

A friend of ours would be a great fit as our roommate. He told us today that he signed a new, year-long lease. We didn’t know he was looking – he had mentioned his current sublet ends in October and he’s going on tour – and if we had known, we would have told him to move in with us when our apartment renovation finishes in around 4 months. 

We had discussed the concept with him, but evidently not been sufficiently direct or explicit, because when the topic came up he expressed interest (and not just as polite dismissal, but actual interest). He had just never connected “These people want to live with roommates” with “I like spending time with them” and “I’m looking for a place to live” to arrive at “Therefore I should be their roommate.” 

We have one other friend who is also a great fit. Now we know to have the pre-conversation. Not to commit to anything – just to ensure that we talk to each other before he signs a new lease or we fill the rooms. 

Fortunately, the failed-friend is choosing his current place in part because it’s easy for him to sublet. 

So, in 4 months, after he’s had a successful sublet, it’s time for us to chat again. 

There are only three ways to lose a game: 

  1. Exhaust all possible resources. 
  2. Give up. 
  3. The clock expires. 

The clock has not expired. We have many more available resources. We refuse to give up.

Pickled Frogs

If you do work first thing in the morning, you get to spend the entire rest of the Sunday playing games, which really makes the rest of the day much more joyful. If you play games first thing in the morning, then you spend the day dreading the work, and then you’re tired when it’s time to do the work. The work is much more grumbly, which is worse. Or, as Benjamin Franklin once said, quoting Mark Twain: “If you’re going to bed early and rise, be sure to be healthy, wealthy, and eat frogs.”

Today, partner and I reviewed the entire cabinetry purchase order for the apartment renovation. There were many tiny details that I wanted to measure and test, and it took around three hours. At the end, we went for a walk, during which I found new pickleball courts. I then bench pressed 175 lbs., which Partner is particularly impressed by because it is more than she deadlifts. I am excited at the prospect of buying pickleball shoes and going to play pickleball in the local park.

All this delight was enabled by awakening early and rising so that we could be healthy, wealthy, and having eaten a frog.

Winning from Others Winning

Today, I went 0 for 3 in board games with friends. 

In the first two games I got absolutely trounced. Tied for last place in each game sort of trounced. 0 points in every game level of trounced. 

After losing those three so badly, I said something like, “And now I’m mad. I still love this game, and I’m pissed. I’m going to play it over and over again til I figure it out.” 

Another player – one who had also scored 0 points in both – said he was mad too. But that I didn’t seem angry or annoyed at losing: I was celebrating other people making good moves. 

I learned that skill at clownschool: something like “compersion”: sharing in the joy of others. Yes, I want to win. Yes, I will do everything to win. And also, I will respect you and appreciate you and support you when you have a great move. 

I will absolutely not tell you when you make a mistake. But I will share in your joy when you execute a beautiful combo. 

I find this method a much more joyful way to play games. 

🙂