Turning the Tables

In the award-winning Pixar animation "Geri's Game, we see an artfully animated story of an old man playing chess with himself. He finally "wins" by tricking himself. He feigns a heart attack, and then, while his self is distracted, he turns the board around.

I know, I know. It's a joke. Or a story of profound schizophrenia. Or testimony to the bizarre powers of the human mind that we are actually capable of taking either side, and that we are endowed with the sometimes oddly useful ability to fool ourselves. But it's also an example of a strategy that I've found quite useful when I'm playing with people who are not my self.

Since we're talking about chess, let's talk about a game with someone who is very much not equal to you. Imagine yourself as a grandmaster, playing with your seven-year-old granddaughter. She knows the moves. But that's about all. You can beat her, if you want, in five moves. Maybe four. But what's the point? The only real point is getting to play with her. Of connecting with her, and maybe fanning her love for the game, but, far more importantly, celebrating your love for each other. You could make bad moves, deliberately. But that would be taking something away from her. You could instruct her, but that would take something away from the relationship.

So, what if you made it the rule that either of you, at any time during the game, could turn the board around? It'd be fair. It'd be interesting, for both of you. It'd be a way you could keep the game going, and challenging.

Years ago, when I ran my games retreat center called the "Games Preserve," I made turntables for each of the two-player strategy games we had, for just that very reason. Because it kept the game going. Because it kept the relationship between players open and playful. Because it made it more fun.