Page 62 of Nerdplay
I’ll replenish your supply when I get back from Florida.
Good luck, not that you need it.
Thanks, big bro. xxx
On the way to my cabin, I cross paths with Ben. “Hey, Charlie. You’re headed in the wrong direction. The big game is this way.” He hooks a thumb over his shoulder.
“I just got back from a long drive. I should probably hit the bathroom before I head out to the field. Sounds like it’ll be a long afternoon.”
He slaps an arm across my shoulders. “Listen here, young man. If this seventy-five-year-old prostate can handle a couple hours, so can yours.” Before I can object, he steers me toward the field. “You’re gonna love this event. Combat archery is one of my favorites.”
“What do you like about it?”
“It’s dodgeball, paintball, and archery rolled into one. What’s not to like?”
The teams are in the process of being formed when we arrive at the battlefield. I’m the last to join Adam’s team. Cricket manages to look both sporty and sexy in a white tank top and jean shorts. The white frames of her glasses are shaped like hearts.
We all don protective face masks, including Adam, who swaps his helmet. The bows are real, but the arrows have foam tips. Nothing sharp.
Cricket holds up a whistle as she addresses the gathered players. “When I blow this, you run.”
I survey the field. “Run where?”
“It’s like Hunger Games.”
I stare at her blankly.
Frustrated, she smacks her forehead. “The arrows are in a pile in the center of the field, and you all run for them at once.”
“This is where the dodgeball part comes in,” Ben explains. “The players run to grab as many arrows as they can, but you run the risk of being shot by someone faster than you.”
“So you want to grab your weapons and then seek coverage,” Hunter adds. “But if I catch your arrow, which I probably will because I excel at this game, then I can choose to bring an eliminated teammate back into the game.”
“Last player standing’s team wins,” Ben says.
It quickly becomes clear that Hunter and Olivia are the team to beat. Hunter is faster than I anticipate; I can tell he has experience aiming and shooting. I try not to think about what’s normally at the other end of his sharp eye.
Wendy and Esther are eliminated first. I’m fairly certain they get hit on purpose, and my suspicions are confirmed when they disappear. I hear Cricket say something about plushies.
I hit Bradley next, and he paces the sidelines calling for Hunter and Olivia to catch an arrow so he can reenter the game.
It doesn’t happen.
Hunter shoots both Gloria and Angela. Olivia shoots her grandfather in an epic showdown.
Eventually only four of us are left. A golden opportunity presents itself when Hunter stumbles over a tree root and drops his arrow. I don’t have a clean shot, but Adam does.
“Come on, Adam!”
The warlord lets his arrow fly. It sails over Hunter’s head, giving our opponent time to reclaim his weapon.
I cry out in exasperation. “That was a straight shot! How could you miss?” The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret them. Adam crumples like I’ve humiliated him in the presence of Yoda and Luke Skywalker. “I’m sorry, buddy,” I say quickly. “Heat of the moment. I didn’t mean it.”
“These games are only for fun,” Cricket reminds me gently. “The winners are those who play.”
And suddenly I understand the point of participation trophies. If you know you have zero chance of ever winning, why would you ever try? You’d sit out every game and miss the chance to enjoy yourself for the sake of it. Miss the chance to bond with your teammates and, sometimes, even your competitors.
My father’s skin would crawl if he could hear my thoughts right now. In his mind, participation trophies are the equivalent of athletic pacifiers. If you’re not good enough to win, you deserve to leave empty-handed.
