Poor Sport
Anyone who has spent any time with my family (The Hydes) will eventually be subjected to our love of stupid games.
Now, I'm sure that every family has a variety of players, but ours goes as follows:
The Competitive One (or Many...this takes many forms, such as repeatedly skipping the same person, giving one's self "loans" from the Monopoly game and/or putting 85 hotels on one space, and, in all cases, the complete annihilation of one's opponents all with a giant grin plastered on one's face and the triumphant exclamation, "Strategy!" like that really explains dumb luck and cheating...).
The I-Hate-This-Game-And-Will-Tolerate-It-Because-I'm-Mom-Nice-And-I'll-End-Up-Winning-Despite-My-Apathy One.
The I-Really-Just-Want-Everyone-To-Play-Nice One, who holds onto cards just so everyone can go out.
And then there's the Poor Sport....
I won't name any names or anything *coughDadcough* but the Poor Sport often makes an appearance at the game table with any of the following statements:
"OH, Give me a BREAK!"
"Whatever..."
"Why is everyone SKIPPING ME!?"
"YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE!"
"I NEVER win. Ever." (This statement always makes an appearance in the ONE game that said Poor Sport appears to be losing.)
And the final, bitterly spat, "I don't care..."
I can't tell you how many games of Phase 10 have been peppered with those statements. But to be fair, when you have the Competitive Ones egging you on, it becomes understandable (did I mention that my family is rife with teases??)
You could be sitting there, holding your buttery cards (we eat a lot of popcorn during these games), squeezed between the thick tension like so much sausage, wondering why you ever subjected yourself to such nonsense.
(Have I told you that I never finished a game of Monopoly until I was an adult? Dara + teasing + cheating = Sads.)
Anywho, it's been many moons since I've played a game at my parents' table.
I always played the Let's Be Nice card (pun intended) when we played.
I don't like competition.
I don't like contention.
I just want everyone to get along, dang it.
Why can't you just NOT use your wild draw four?
And I know you're really NOT sorry when you send all my game pieces back to Start. (Sorry, not sorry...) Maybe that wicked grin gave it away, I dunno...
So, when we had some friends come over last Friday with the intent of playing games, I informed them that I have a hard time with competition, and that I like to play nice.
I nodded my head in satisfaction that they would heed my words, and that we would have an uneventful game, where nobody would win, but we'd all happily give each other the card each other needed and sing kumbaya.
The rules were roughly explained, and then we started.
It was kind of a whirlwind, but I finally got the gist of the game.
And then I started hearing this:
"Oh really??? Uggghhh...."
"HEY! You're CHEATING!"
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? WHY DID YOU GIVE ME THAT CARD???"
It went on and on and on...
And then, at some point in the evening, I realized that I had become my father.
I'd become a Poor Sport. A Super Competitive Poor Sport.
My life had come full circle.
And now I don't know what to make of my life anymore.
I think I need to deeply ponder my life choices.
I guess we'll see how many bridges I burned with my Poor Sportery if or when they ever come back.
P.S. Jeremy, sat there, blithely winning without so much as a wisp of a wicked grin on his face. I kinda wanna kick him in the head.
Now, I'm sure that every family has a variety of players, but ours goes as follows:
The Competitive One (or Many...this takes many forms, such as repeatedly skipping the same person, giving one's self "loans" from the Monopoly game and/or putting 85 hotels on one space, and, in all cases, the complete annihilation of one's opponents all with a giant grin plastered on one's face and the triumphant exclamation, "Strategy!" like that really explains dumb luck and cheating...).
The I-Hate-This-Game-And-Will-Tolerate-It-Because-I'm-
The I-Really-Just-Want-Everyone-To-Play-Nice One, who holds onto cards just so everyone can go out.
And then there's the Poor Sport....
I won't name any names or anything *coughDadcough* but the Poor Sport often makes an appearance at the game table with any of the following statements:
"OH, Give me a BREAK!"
"Whatever..."
"Why is everyone SKIPPING ME!?"
"YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE!"
"I NEVER win. Ever." (This statement always makes an appearance in the ONE game that said Poor Sport appears to be losing.)
And the final, bitterly spat, "I don't care..."
I can't tell you how many games of Phase 10 have been peppered with those statements. But to be fair, when you have the Competitive Ones egging you on, it becomes understandable (did I mention that my family is rife with teases??)
You could be sitting there, holding your buttery cards (we eat a lot of popcorn during these games), squeezed between the thick tension like so much sausage, wondering why you ever subjected yourself to such nonsense.
(Have I told you that I never finished a game of Monopoly until I was an adult? Dara + teasing + cheating = Sads.)
Anywho, it's been many moons since I've played a game at my parents' table.
I always played the Let's Be Nice card (pun intended) when we played.
I don't like competition.
I don't like contention.
I just want everyone to get along, dang it.
Why can't you just NOT use your wild draw four?
And I know you're really NOT sorry when you send all my game pieces back to Start. (Sorry, not sorry...) Maybe that wicked grin gave it away, I dunno...
So, when we had some friends come over last Friday with the intent of playing games, I informed them that I have a hard time with competition, and that I like to play nice.
I nodded my head in satisfaction that they would heed my words, and that we would have an uneventful game, where nobody would win, but we'd all happily give each other the card each other needed and sing kumbaya.
The rules were roughly explained, and then we started.
It was kind of a whirlwind, but I finally got the gist of the game.
And then I started hearing this:
"Oh really??? Uggghhh...."
"HEY! You're CHEATING!"
"ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? WHY DID YOU GIVE ME THAT CARD???"
It went on and on and on...
And then, at some point in the evening, I realized that I had become my father.
I'd become a Poor Sport. A Super Competitive Poor Sport.
My life had come full circle.
And now I don't know what to make of my life anymore.
I think I need to deeply ponder my life choices.
I guess we'll see how many bridges I burned with my Poor Sportery if or when they ever come back.
P.S. Jeremy, sat there, blithely winning without so much as a wisp of a wicked grin on his face. I kinda wanna kick him in the head.
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