Handicaps

I'm still reeling this morning from this dizzy virus, but I did manage to cycle up the Trail yesterday. I knew I was under par and going slowly, but even given the virus, to be overtaken by a runner was beyond demeaning  

Do you think it makes you more competitive if you come from a big family? And do you think that only children tend to be uncompetitive? I am the former case and Dave is the latter. Although it could be more complicated than family size, because he himself would say his family didn't know the meaning of the word ambition, and my mother had plans for us all.

As kids, the sibs and I played hard core Monopoly; and we'd time each other to see who could do a jigsaw fastest. Then when we were bored with that, we'd turn the jigsaw over and do it without a picture. Pete always won Monopoly but I can't recall who was best at speed jigsaw. I like to think it was me...

I am pondering this because of the nightly game of Scrabble at Hepworth Towers, which for me is becoming very trying. I've complained on the blog before about Dave beating me at every single game - crokinole, table tennis, darts and Scrabble - and how dispiriting this is. 

Several years ago he stopped playing Scrabble with me because he hated my competitiveness, and I only managed to persuade him to start again by pretending that I didn't care who won, that I just wanted to reach the score of 300.

Lately I have not been able to pretend, and I know why that is. He's made some new boards which are twice and three times the size of a normal game, and bought extra letters. This means that when he beats me it can be by hundreds of points.

He always says things like 'But it's not about the score, it's about the pleasure of making words!' and 'I never crow!' and 'I really don't care who wins.' 
and I say 'If you were the one who always loses you might begin to care.'
'But you win sometimes.'
'Yes, one time in ten.'

Last night in a game with a normal sized board - admittedly a game in which I was drowning in vowels from beginning to end, and apart from the Z, the only letter I had in the whole damn game with more than one point was a G - he beat me by 200 points.

Sue: 'I am so fed up!'
Dave: 'The scores are not so far apart.'
Me:  'Don't give me that rubbish! It's bloody double!'
Dave: 'Well, would you like me to start you off with a hundred points next time?'
Sue: 'I don't want a handicap! I want to nail you on my own terms!'

The ugly beast of competition was out in the open.

Not very Quakerly, is it?