I used to be an athlete. I remember how amazing it felt to be standing across from another player and thinking, “this guy has no chance to slow me down today.” The idea that I am far out of someone else’s league is a powerful one to hold in your mind and more often than not I was the guy who was having the idea. That thought process–that belief of personal pride and power resonated far beyond the field. I felt it a lot of the times when writing or in the classroom and especially at the console. I believed myself to be an A-rated gamer. I was the SniperWolf, the original Slayer 1, a stone cold digital beast who couldn’t be slowed let alone stopped.
This was in the era of Pong.
I grew up on all of the original games and watched everything get faster and bloodier and more realistic. I crawled through the muck with the first Pitfall and moved on to Uncharted. I played everything and for a while I did it well.
Now imagine how it feels to be on the other side of the field; to be the guy who someone see looks at and says, “this dude has no chance to slow me down today.” It is tough to take. Yesterday we held our first annual post-Thanksgiving gaming tourney in the house. Over the course of the year the boys and I battle for various gaming ‘crowns’ and I reset the championships this thanksgiving to give everyone a fair shot to be the champ. Thus far we’ve gone through Call of Duty 3, Basketball 2K, Madden 16, and Super Smash Bros. The CoD3 and Basketball were team battles. The youngest and I were able to wrestle that win away from the brothers Grimm. The rest were stunning defeats–each uglier than the next. When the 6 yr old spanked me at Madden, I knew things had gotten bad. I can’t even blame the injured finger (perhaps psychologically, but physically it played no role). The fact is, I need to start preparing for succession.
The boys have passed me by. I don’t like it at all, and I don’t know that I can take it lying down. I am too young to be moved into a ‘daddy was dope once’ role…