Any time the word GOON gets played twice in one Scrabble game you've got an interesting game going, and the following sequence of play started with my worthy opponent tiling the second GOON of the game. I had tiled the first, but that is of no consequence. But in Scrabble everything is of consequence. It must be, for every play affects every subsequent play, all words connect, intersect, attach one to another. So the very first word must affect the very last, and so the first GOON must somehow bring about the second GOON, which, as I started out saying, led to the following Scrabble highlight.
I had started the game strong, racking up points by readily finding words on my rack that scored in the twenties or at least double digits. My opponent, meanwhile, was quietly bellyaching about yet more vowels ("... you know they're all just one point ..."). I compassionately commiserated, because, of course, we've all been there: not much to work with, just doing the best we can. Then the tiles turned and I had a rack of one-pointers and he started making a comeback. I took it in stride. With about two-thirds of the tiles played, it was pointed out to me that the game was now a close one. "Hmmm," I thought. Then he played GOON, in the left lower quadrant.
The board had stayed fairly open, not getting jammed up in one corner or another as so often happens, and this was the third quadrant we had moved into; the third Triple Word Score we were nonchalantly chasing. GOON brought us that much closer; my play of AIRS, making GOON GOONS, brought us just one tantalizing space away. So many possibilities ...
But my opponent had the Q and a chance to play it using the I in AIRS. He tiled QUIP, parallel to GOONS with one column separating.
I had been hanging on to a U just in case I got the Q, and now I saw a chance to play my U with his Q, get all the points of a Q without the anxiety of a Q sitting on the rack, let's see ... Q, U, O ... I, T. QUOIT. I studied it, trying to think if it was a word or not. It seemed I had seen it somewhere before, probably in a Scrabble game, but I could attach no meaning to it. I couldn't resist, and down QUOIT went.
I play Scrabble strictly for pleasure and not all that often. However, I have a mother and sister who play to win (their pleasure) as often as they can. They play with each other; they play with whomever they can sucker into it. They are fairly matched but usually beat anyone else they play with. They are nice about it and will tell you, the loser, how well you played. If they happen to lose, however, it's not always pretty. But usually a pretty good story. One particular game sticks out. It was many years ago. My sister invited me to play with her and my mom and for some unsuspecting reason I did. I must have gotten lucky, because well into the game I was ahead, and this was remarked upon. The exact exchange that prompted my mother to then call me an "interloper" I don't remember, but it had to do with me being in the lead. Anyway, my own mother called me an "interloper." Luckily, I was far enough into adulthood that it did not affect my overall development. Much.
If I were challenged on QUOIT and lost - if QUOIT was not in the dictionary - I would lose my turn. I was prepared for that. My worthy opponent asked what QUOIT meant. I admitted I did not know. "But I know it's a word," I said. "Either my sister or mother has used it, in the Scrabble of my past, and they know what they're doing." Much to my surprise, QUOIT went unchallenged. But the temptation to know its validity was too great for my friend, so he looked it up. Sure enough, there it was. Some kind of game...
My worthy opponent played elsewhere on the board. I was not paying much attention as I was fully consumed with my next move. It involved a simple word using a Z, an I, the P in QUIP, and the Triple Word Score. The problem was the move would create a secondary two-letter word, or possibly not a word: AI. As in "ai yi yi." It was my turn. I laid down ZIP.
Silence. Then, "Ai? What's that? That's not a word!"
I shrugged. "Ai yi yi," I said. Or at least I think I said. I may have just been laughing.
AI was challenged. AI was not in the dictionary. I took a look at the dictionary, which was a red paperback condensed "office and school" (not a "real") dictionary.
"Where's the real dictionary?" I asked. "The blue hardcover one we used the other night."
Eventually it was found. And there it was. Ai. An exclamation.
"Ai yi yi," I said. Or was I just laughing?
Because I was laughing so hard I did not realize that my worthy opponent was taking his turn even though he had challenged my AI and lost. I was laughing so hard I had to leave the room. When I thought I had myself well enough composed to return to the game I remembered my father and the fact that he had refused to play Scrabble with my mother and sister - with anyone, actually - and I suddenly knew why. The realization did nothing to quelch my amusement.
With QUIP my opponent had scored 30. With QUOIT I had scored 28 and with ZIP and AI 44. I went on to win the game 326 to 282. If I have ever scored over 300, I don't remember when. And next time, no doubt, my worthy opponent will win, for luck, opportunity, skill, and the occasional risk will fall together in a different pattern.
But ai, like quoit, it's just a game.
I had started the game strong, racking up points by readily finding words on my rack that scored in the twenties or at least double digits. My opponent, meanwhile, was quietly bellyaching about yet more vowels ("... you know they're all just one point ..."). I compassionately commiserated, because, of course, we've all been there: not much to work with, just doing the best we can. Then the tiles turned and I had a rack of one-pointers and he started making a comeback. I took it in stride. With about two-thirds of the tiles played, it was pointed out to me that the game was now a close one. "Hmmm," I thought. Then he played GOON, in the left lower quadrant.
The board had stayed fairly open, not getting jammed up in one corner or another as so often happens, and this was the third quadrant we had moved into; the third Triple Word Score we were nonchalantly chasing. GOON brought us that much closer; my play of AIRS, making GOON GOONS, brought us just one tantalizing space away. So many possibilities ...
But my opponent had the Q and a chance to play it using the I in AIRS. He tiled QUIP, parallel to GOONS with one column separating.
I had been hanging on to a U just in case I got the Q, and now I saw a chance to play my U with his Q, get all the points of a Q without the anxiety of a Q sitting on the rack, let's see ... Q, U, O ... I, T. QUOIT. I studied it, trying to think if it was a word or not. It seemed I had seen it somewhere before, probably in a Scrabble game, but I could attach no meaning to it. I couldn't resist, and down QUOIT went.
I play Scrabble strictly for pleasure and not all that often. However, I have a mother and sister who play to win (their pleasure) as often as they can. They play with each other; they play with whomever they can sucker into it. They are fairly matched but usually beat anyone else they play with. They are nice about it and will tell you, the loser, how well you played. If they happen to lose, however, it's not always pretty. But usually a pretty good story. One particular game sticks out. It was many years ago. My sister invited me to play with her and my mom and for some unsuspecting reason I did. I must have gotten lucky, because well into the game I was ahead, and this was remarked upon. The exact exchange that prompted my mother to then call me an "interloper" I don't remember, but it had to do with me being in the lead. Anyway, my own mother called me an "interloper." Luckily, I was far enough into adulthood that it did not affect my overall development. Much.
If I were challenged on QUOIT and lost - if QUOIT was not in the dictionary - I would lose my turn. I was prepared for that. My worthy opponent asked what QUOIT meant. I admitted I did not know. "But I know it's a word," I said. "Either my sister or mother has used it, in the Scrabble of my past, and they know what they're doing." Much to my surprise, QUOIT went unchallenged. But the temptation to know its validity was too great for my friend, so he looked it up. Sure enough, there it was. Some kind of game...
My worthy opponent played elsewhere on the board. I was not paying much attention as I was fully consumed with my next move. It involved a simple word using a Z, an I, the P in QUIP, and the Triple Word Score. The problem was the move would create a secondary two-letter word, or possibly not a word: AI. As in "ai yi yi." It was my turn. I laid down ZIP.
Silence. Then, "Ai? What's that? That's not a word!"
I shrugged. "Ai yi yi," I said. Or at least I think I said. I may have just been laughing.
AI was challenged. AI was not in the dictionary. I took a look at the dictionary, which was a red paperback condensed "office and school" (not a "real") dictionary.
"Where's the real dictionary?" I asked. "The blue hardcover one we used the other night."
Eventually it was found. And there it was. Ai. An exclamation.
"Ai yi yi," I said. Or was I just laughing?
Because I was laughing so hard I did not realize that my worthy opponent was taking his turn even though he had challenged my AI and lost. I was laughing so hard I had to leave the room. When I thought I had myself well enough composed to return to the game I remembered my father and the fact that he had refused to play Scrabble with my mother and sister - with anyone, actually - and I suddenly knew why. The realization did nothing to quelch my amusement.
With QUIP my opponent had scored 30. With QUOIT I had scored 28 and with ZIP and AI 44. I went on to win the game 326 to 282. If I have ever scored over 300, I don't remember when. And next time, no doubt, my worthy opponent will win, for luck, opportunity, skill, and the occasional risk will fall together in a different pattern.
But ai, like quoit, it's just a game.
