Winning

We had just finished playing a night game of flag football. Derek broke the silence: “That was pretty fun.” “Eh,” I replied. “I mean, it was competitive. It was fun,” he countered. “Yeah, but we didn’t win,” I said. I told him I would rather win than have a competitive game. As we got back to the apartment he asked me, “So would you rather play a group of mentally handicapped elementary school children and win or play a…” He didn’t even get to finish.

“Retarded kids.”

I love to win. And I don’t just like to win. I like to win big. I don’t like playing games where somebody says stuff like: “Well, if you didn’t get the soldier card, I would’ve won.” Or “If the ref didn’t give you that call, we would’ve won.” That’s why I play games like Starcraft where I like to pummel the computer into oblivion, setting up myself against myriads of Zerg, knowing they have not a chance as I set up a wall of Supply Depots and Siege Tanks. I laugh as I see the computer futilely throw waves upon waves of aliens against my small force of brave soldiers, knowing that my puny brain has made a fool of this calculating machine. That’s why I love playing Hordes of Orcs and watching these orcs run around, getting whacked by my awesome maze, sending them back and forth, looking for relief from my deadly assortment of ice towers, nuclear cannons, and flame throwers.

Part of this perverse delight comes from wanting there to be no doubt of victory, but I can’t decide whether I like winning that much or I hate losing that much. I think another part of not liking to play close games is that not only is there a chance of losing, but also you have to elevate your play. I start getting too serious and not enjoying myself. There’s not a lot of room for error when the game is close, so it requires more concentration, more effort, and more dependence on others. There’s not a lot of room for running triple reverses, “the star” formation, or trying to get everyone a touch on the ball. I start getting upset about the little things, since it’s the little things that start to matter. I actually hate watching athletes complain and whine about calls or even participate in games where people argue about technicalities of the game or even lie about what happened in order to gain some advantage. It makes the game less fun.

True, I enjoy watching a close game; it’s a lot more exciting than a blow out. Especially if your team comes from behind to win. But when it comes to playing games, I’d rather win big. So why is this relevant?

A couple of days ago I got out of language class. One of our neighbors had just gotten out of school too and was heading home for lunch. We were both on our bikes and at the stop light I began talking to him a little. As we rode towards home he started laughing and began pedaling faster. Sigh. Foolish boy. For a second I thought about how it would be fun for him to beat me, but this was after I had parked and locked my bike, beating him to the bike garage by 20 seconds.