This "Game"

When I was a little girl my father gave me a chessboard for Christmas. I was 8 and it was my first game that did not have a spinner, dice or cards. I remember holding the pieces in awe of their simplistic beauty. Of course being 8 I had no idea it was so much more than just an ornate box of simple figurines. I did know even then it was not "just" a game. I begged my father every weekend for a re-match, of course he always won, being a man of principle determined to teach his daughter there are no free-wins. "Acomplishments should be your own, and not given to you", he told me.

It was years before I won my first game. I stared at the board in disbelief for minutes when I saw the "kill" a couple of moves out. I couldn't believe I had him, there was no way. I had to be missing something, but yet I had that anticipation that hope that this was my first true accomplishment in my life. Year later sitting in my kitchen in my first apartment teaching a friend some strategies, It occurred to me how 1 game had shaped the way I saw life, how I related the conflicts and triumphs in my life to the strategies of a game.

I truly loved this game. It taught me determination, and the intuitive nature of gauging your opponent, and more importantly underestimate them at your own peril. I learned a straight lines is rarely the road to success and the best laid plans fall apart with execution proving flexibility the most important facet of life.

No one ever mocked me for my slightly more than simple enjoyment of this game, nor did they for my near obsession with the sport of baseball. With Baseball you employ team coordination, humility, pride, intuition, and my favorite skill stats and the law of averages to determine the meaning of the universe... When the numbers fit the world feel right. When you round a base or drive in a run in you chest fills with something more than air, something indescribable. As a sports star I was praised, cheered, encouraged and commended for my dedication to the game. No one ever told me it was "just" a game.

I've grown older and I don't run as fast as I did, nor can I throw as fast and accurate, but my wits and stamina and determination are still tested just as much as they ever were. I'm part of a team still, one I'm proud of. In fact I am more proud of this team than any other in my sports career. The drive to be where we are, we were are going, is even more so. Our unity, sense of accomplishment and community is heightened not hindered by our lack of physical contact. To express simple emotions taken for granted in the everyday, is in text form is an art. The mannerisms and body language we use everyday in teamwork and coordination are almost useless in gaming. It's a whole different world than that of the super dome, but no less challenging.

So my mantra for this game, this hobby, this sport, this reflection of life and relationship is "don't tell me it's just a game."