Games, by Phillip Hoyle

As a kid I never much liked games of competition, but I did like games of simulation. The former were based on beating others—winning. My early aversion arose most likely from my lack of physical strength and coordination combined with my weak skills in strategizing. If I ran a race, I simply ran. The problem was that I ran too slowly. I couldn’t throw balls far or fast and the balls rarely showed up where I thought I was throwing them. At the shooting range I couldn’t see very well even though I had no idea of that. Then when I got corrective lenses I never could figure out how to compensate. I had a hard time concentrating on activities that didn’t capture my imagination.

I avoided football and baseball. I was attracted to basketball, but I wasn’t even a good basketball player. I wasn’t aggressive enough and didn’t care to be better than the other guys. But growing up I did like games like War, Cops and Robbers, and my favorite, Cowboys and Indians. I probably liked the costuming, props, and improvisatory acting. I was especially repelled by party games—games like Pin the Tail on the Donkey, or dropping clothes pins into milk bottles. I could play cards: War, Canasta, Gin Rummy, Pinochle, Poker, and Pitch, but I abhorred spin the bottle. I wasn’t interested to kiss anyone (well until 10^th grade when I learned to kiss Buddy).

I started working in churches fulltime in 1970 at the outbreak of the Learning Games Movement. Some of these were pretty awful and met strong resistance particularly from adult groups. I did like the Simulation Games—an accommodation of military training practices used to introduce students to strategic thinking as related to their topics of study. (It seems strange that I liked them given their origins!) Of course school teachers had long used competitive games like spelling bees and other more complicated ones like debate. Even in my high school years church youth rallies sported television game-show-inspired competitions over biblical knowledge pitting teams from neighboring churches. Although I knew the Bible pretty well, I never was interested to use the knowledge for purposes of showing off. It seemed somehow antithetical to the sense of charity or cooperation I learned from the Good Book’s best teachings. And remember, I was not very competitive.

During the 70s the New Games Movement started introducing cooperative games strategized to create community—Hippie-inspired group play that featured Earth Balls and sometimes flowers. I started developing similar games—both the New Games and Simulations—for youth retreats and elementary residential camps, ones related directly to the curricular themes and that often involved the creation of environments, for example, a simulated archaeological dig or a Middle-Eastern marketplace. These were much more related to the simulation games of childhood than they were to sporting events, and they proved effective in teaching.

To this day I fail to understand any competition that devalues human life—either that of an individual or of a group. Still I do appreciate the grace and power of athletes. I also like a couple of card games that have so little strategy as not to stifle conversation among the players. But I don’t like playing even those games with players who take winning too seriously.

Lest you think I am just an old stick in the mud, I will admit to enjoying the Christmas games my youngest granddaughters planned for our family. They involved individuals and teams. My favorite was the Reindeer Game. For my team I hurriedly blew up and tied off small balloons until I was out of breath and feeling very light headed. The balloons were then stuffed into panty hose. The team that first successfully filled the legs like antlers and whose reindeer donned them first won. Selected for the honor of being the reindeer were my son Michael and his wife Heather. They looked bizarrely cute, but my favorite part of that game was my daughter Desma’s story of trying to purchase panty hose. Suppliers have become rare. Finally she found a store that still carries them. The clerk said, “Yes, we have them. You must be going to play the Reindeer Game; it’s all the rage at the State workers’ office parties this year. You got here just in time.” Handing Desma the hosiery she said, “Here are the last two pair.”

Oh the games people play.

© 16 January 2017 

About the Author 

 Phillip Hoyle lives in Denver and spends his time writing, painting, and socializing. In general he keeps busy with groups of writers and artists. Following thirty-two years in church work and fifteen in a therapeutic massage practice, he now focuses on creating beauty. He volunteers at The Center leading the SAGE program “Telling Your Story.”

He also blogs at artandmorebyphilhoyle.blogspot.com