The Competitive Edge
So I hung out with the neighbors the other day. And one of their little children challenged me to a game of checkers. Of course I housed the little punk. He challenged me again, and came down with another severe case of my foot in his ass.
Right after I told him that he played like a punk ass loser, and he started crying, we were asked to leave. After we arrived home, Mrs. Manion patiently informed me that people often let children win. This came as a tremendous shock to me. I was raised in an environment where competition was everything.
Growing up, the Manion family philosphy was best summed up as "Crush the weak." If anything was worth doing, it was worth doing better than everyone else. Particularly if it could be done better than your father or brother.
In most families, backyard badminton is a nice afternoon diversion. In our family, it was a blood sport. We tended to go through a set a season. Mostly because we kept breaking the rackets. This was probably due to the fact that the notion of a "foul" was unknown to us. Don't even get me started on how we played mini-golf.
Actually, come to think of it, let's digress for a moment. (deep breath)
Oh yeah, Who da family mini-golf champion, bitches? Cause it ain't y'all! You best turn in those clubs for walkers, 'cause you sure don't need them for playing! Suckas!
Ah, that was refreshing. Anyway, pretty much any activity was worth competing over. If a game didn't contain an element of competition, we invented one. Even little children's rhyming games became battles of will, strength, and cunning.
To give you an idea of how bad it got, let's take a look at a classic children's game - the Easter Egg hunt. For my father, the challenge was to make the eggs unfindable. For me and my brother (Sonny Crockett) it was the challenge of finding the eggs, and besting the other searcher.
By the time of the last hunt, (which, due to our constant need to compete, was about two years ago) we were stapping on toolbelts, voltage detectors and nightvision. Dad was deploying decoy eggs, locks, and live electric current(thus the voltage detectors).
Mom finally put a stop to it. Just as she put a stop to the in-house squirt gun fights (just when I'd finally pressurized the super soaker).
In any event, little Timmy Borland sucks at checkers. And I don't see why that should be my problem.
LM
Right after I told him that he played like a punk ass loser, and he started crying, we were asked to leave. After we arrived home, Mrs. Manion patiently informed me that people often let children win. This came as a tremendous shock to me. I was raised in an environment where competition was everything.
Growing up, the Manion family philosphy was best summed up as "Crush the weak." If anything was worth doing, it was worth doing better than everyone else. Particularly if it could be done better than your father or brother.
In most families, backyard badminton is a nice afternoon diversion. In our family, it was a blood sport. We tended to go through a set a season. Mostly because we kept breaking the rackets. This was probably due to the fact that the notion of a "foul" was unknown to us. Don't even get me started on how we played mini-golf.
Actually, come to think of it, let's digress for a moment. (deep breath)
Oh yeah, Who da family mini-golf champion, bitches? Cause it ain't y'all! You best turn in those clubs for walkers, 'cause you sure don't need them for playing! Suckas!
Ah, that was refreshing. Anyway, pretty much any activity was worth competing over. If a game didn't contain an element of competition, we invented one. Even little children's rhyming games became battles of will, strength, and cunning.
To give you an idea of how bad it got, let's take a look at a classic children's game - the Easter Egg hunt. For my father, the challenge was to make the eggs unfindable. For me and my brother (Sonny Crockett) it was the challenge of finding the eggs, and besting the other searcher.
By the time of the last hunt, (which, due to our constant need to compete, was about two years ago) we were stapping on toolbelts, voltage detectors and nightvision. Dad was deploying decoy eggs, locks, and live electric current(thus the voltage detectors).
Mom finally put a stop to it. Just as she put a stop to the in-house squirt gun fights (just when I'd finally pressurized the super soaker).
In any event, little Timmy Borland sucks at checkers. And I don't see why that should be my problem.
LM
posted by Lance Manion at 2:34 PM
4 Comments:
My dad never let me beat him at chess. It took me 16 years to beat him. I've done it four times now.
I'm not sure if I'd beat you at checkers. But, I'm pretty sure I'd own you at Rummy.
And I've got a Nuclear War game here collecting dust...
Such a familial ethic ensures the continuation of the line and the ass-whuppin' genes. :)
And I remember NUCLEAR WAR!! That was a fun game!
I call Popula! My people get to have sex.
And Amandarama cheats at rummy.
Post a Comment
<< Home