FIRST WIN
by Harrell Naylor, Sr.
(This is a work of fiction based on my recollection of
several games of Scrabble that I have lost in my lifetime.)
He was a likable lad so it
didn't take me long to give him a nickname. Before the end of our first game I
had started calling him "Kid" because I kept forgetting his given
name.
During the second game we played against each other I asked
him if he reented me calling him "Kid." He had replied that
he kind of liked the moniker. Of course, by the end of our third game he was
calling me "Pops,"and, of course, I didn't dare object.
A friendly rivalry quickly developed between us. He let
me know right away that he had set himself a goal of beating me at the game of
Scrabble. I was the oldtimer.at our Scrabble Club, not the best player, just the
oldest. I had been around long enough to have reached the point where I could no
longer die young. The Kid was a beginner, having played the game for less than a
year.
I would win the first eight games we played, but I could tell
that he had what it takes to be a good Scrabble player so I tried to encourage
him. I told him that I could see that he was getting better with each game
he played, that it was only a matter of time before he was beating guys like me
on a regular basis.
It wasn't long before we met in tournament play. By then, he
had managed to beat just about everyone in the Club at least once. everyone,
that is, except me. Against me he was still zero for eight. But his
determination remained the same. "I'll beat you one of these days,
Pops," he would say each time he lost to me. We were not
pitted against each other in the tournament until the last round of play when we
were matched up under the king-of-the-hill format. When our names were
announced, he looked at me and said, "Oh, no, not you!" Neither
of us could win our division of the tournament, but the winner of our game would
claim second place and that was important to each of us.
I opened the game with "JOKED," for 50 points. I
was thinking, this is going to be a cakewalk, I've got him psyched already.
However, he put a hold on my victory dance by laying down"REMOVING,"
using the "O" of "JOKED," for a double-double bingo score of
106! In the time it takes to yell out, "Bingo!" my 50-point lead was
gone and I was down by 56. But, I'm no quitter so I dug my heels in and two
plays later the game was tied. From that point on, we fought a nail-biting
fight, with the lead switching back and forth at least six times.
Finally, the Kid played "UREDIAL" for 63 points and
a 65-point lead. He reached for the tile bag containing the last two tiles. I
called out, "Hold!" which meant I was considering a challenge to his
word, which looked as phoney as a three-dollar bill. I gave serious thought to
challenging. If I challenged and lost he would play out his last two tiles and
win. If my challenge was upheld, he would lose his turn and I would have an
opportunity to take the lead. Of course, if I didn't challenge he would have a
65-point lead and I would have one final shot at over taking him by playing out
with a bingo (a bonus play in which the player plays all 7 tiles in his
rack, earning a bonus of 50 points).
I looked at my rack, which contained A.E.E.L.O.R.V, and I
thought, Oh, well, the Kid finally did it. He finally beat Pops; but why in a
tournament? If I challenged the play the outcome of the game would hinge on the
validity of the word "uredial." If I did not challenge, the outcome of
the game would hinge on my ability to find a bonus out-play in my rack of
seven letters.
I looked at my clock. I had 3 minutes left, and the clock was
running. I looked again at the word "uredial" and a little voice from
some distant recess of my memory whispered that it was an acceptable play so I
decided to use my three minutes to search for the all elusive rack-clearing,
game-ending bonus play. I made the decision that the outcome of this game would
hinge on my ability to find a bingo within the 2:45 left on the clock. At this
point, I knew that my only chance of winning the game was to play all seven
tiles in my rack on my next play, which was now!
I took a second look at my pitiful rack of A.E.E.L.O.R.V. and
thought, Okay, Kid, you win. You've finally beaten me, but I'm going to make you
sweat out the last two minutes. I had been told by players better than me that
in a desperate sitution such as mine you should use up your clock searching for
that miracle, and in your final seconds, lay down a "Hail Mary" word
that just might shock everybody by being acceptable.
When I look at a rack of seven tiles in search of a bingo the
first thing I look for are the prefixes and suffixes such as "ing,"
"est," "iest," "out," "over,"
etc. Looking at my rack I immediately saw "over," plus "ael."
The letters OVERAEL offered nothing. So I went into Plan B.
Plan B kicks in when Plan A fails to produce a bonus
word. Under Plan B you look for an open letter on the board and mentally place
it in your rack and shuffle the tiles around inside your head, hoping you can
fnd the needle in the haystack. I had 1:30 left on my clock.
The only open letter on the board was an "S."
Mentally I added it to my rack, which now consisted of O.V.E.R.A.E.L.S. I
shuffled the last four letters around in my head for a few seconds and saw
SEAL and SALE. "Overseal? Could one overseal something, like a jar of
peanut butter, I laughed to myself. Not likely, although I have seen a few jars
so tightly sealed I couldn't open them, I had to ask my little sister for help.
How about OVERSALE? Could you oversale something? Sure,
it's done all the time, but that would be a verb, spelled o.v.e.r.s.e.l.l..
Oversale would have to be a noun,"the act of overselling." The
oversale of cars didn't make any more sense than oversealing a jar of peanut
butter. Neither word looked like a "Hail Mary," but I had to throw
something downfield so I wasted 15 precious seconds of my clock taking out my
lucky dime and tossing it to see which word I would try. The coin landed heads
up so "overseal won." I thought, okay, if I can't find anything
better, overseal it is.
There were less than 30 seconds left on my clock.
I became acutely aware of the time. The Kid held a 65-point
lead and if my clock clicked past zero, even by one second, I would be penalized
10 points, which would give him a 75-point lead, putting the game out of
reach for me since the score for OVERSALE or OVERSEAL would be 64, plus the 4
points for the two tiles in the Kid's rack, if my tracking had been correct.
Thus, if my outplay of OVERSEAL proved to be acceptable the final score would be
388-385 in my favor. If I overused the clock my losing score would be 378-385.
My clock continued to click ever closer to zero. Fifteen
seconds! The time for action had come. My course of action had been decided by
the flip of a coin, so I stopped thinking and made my move.
Our game had attracted a small assembly of onlookers because
of the closeness of the score and the intensity of the play even though we were
vying for second place in the second division, not first place in the top
division. Also, most of the players from our club were aware of the Kid's desire
to beat me, and of my determination not to let that happen. To many of the
onlookers the old bull was about to go down to defeat by the youngster.
Even those rooting for me must have sensed that ny time had come.
Suddenly, there was a silence around our table and a
stillness in the air as all eyes were on the merciless clock, and my trembling
old hands scrambling desperately to get my tiles down on the board before
the clock went past the allotted time.
"Sixty-four and out," I announced as my shaking
fingers pushed the neutral button on the clock, stopping it with 2 seconds left.
I leaned back in my chair and took a deep breath and almost fainted from
exhaustion as I said to no one in particular but to all within earshot,
"Lot's of time!"
The Kid wasted no time calling out, "Challenge! I
challenge 'oversale.'" Oversale!?!? I looked at the board and, sure as
shootin' there lay the word, "oversale." It had been my intention to
play "overseal." My lucky dime had declared "overseal" the
word to play. But in my haste to beat the clock to zero, I had laid down the
wrong word. Now the game's outcome would hinge on the validity of "oversale,"
instead of "overseal." Mine was an out play so there was no penalty
for a failed challenge; therefore, the Kid had nothing to lose by challenging my
play.
Now that it was over I relaxed, accepted a soft drink from
someone and waited for the word judge to rule the play "not
acceptable." I knew I had lost the game. I had already accepted that fact
of life. There was no way that "oversale" would be found to be
"acceptable." As I leaned back in my chair and relaxed my old aching
bones, I thought, Oh, what the heck, I had fought the good fight, had not played
badly, except for that last play, and that's about all we can ask of ourselves.
The Kid had won the game fair and square. I had no complaints. And, the soda pop
tasted good.
The word judge dropped the challenge slip onto the Scrabble
Board and announced, "That play is acceptable." I couldn't beleve my
ears! OVERSALE was good? "What?" I heard myself asking. "I want a
second opinion!" I joked. Then, I grew serious, quoting the final score as
I wrote it onto my official score sheet, 388-385. Then, I noticed that that the
Kid was hesitant, he seemed shell shocked. I sensed that he wanted a recount of
the game but was too embarrassed to ask so I suggested it. "Would you like
a recount of the game, Kid?" I asked.
"Yes, Sir, if you don't mind."
The Kid had been a true gentleman and I figured he was
entitled to the recount. Recounts seldom reverse the results so I wasn't that
concerned about it. Besides, it was ONLY a game. I said, "Okay, let's do
it."
I'm a true Scrabble player. I do not want to lose. I wanted
to win this game and I was convinced that I had won it, but I wanted the Kid to
accept the fact that I had won. I would have felt cheated somehow if the Kid
went home questioning my win. A recount would settle the matter once and for
all.
During the recount, I discovered an error back on the 5th turn. The kid had
played "WIGGY" for 42 points but had announced it as 32 and recorded
it as such. I had accepted his call and written it down as 32. We corrected the
error, adding ten points to the Kid's score. No other mistakes were found during
the rest of the recount so the adjusted score for the game was 395-388 in the
Kid's favor. I felt like a mule had kicked me in the belly and I thought, I''m
getting too old for this!
But facts are facts. The Kid had won after all and I had been
around long enough to have learned how to grin and bear it, how to be modest and
humble in victory and gracious in defeat. Because of his win, the Kid earned 2nd
place, while, because of my loss, I had to settle for 4th place.
Even though some wiseacre suggested a recount of the recount,
the Kid and I signed our scoresheets, turned them in to the Directer, shook
hands and agreed that it had been an interesting game.
I still look back on that game as being one of the most
interesting games I have ever played, which proves my point that you do not have
to win a game to want to write home about it.