The Only Game in Town
Why the author thinks Dominoes is the world’s best game, and he its best player.
(Page 2 of 3)
Understand, now, I am talking about “straight” Dominoes. None of your so-called “Forty-Two” or its disgusting derivatives such as “Nello”—which is simply “Forty-Two” ass-backwards—or other tutti-frutti versions. These are games for children and ribbon clerks, games as pointless and as sissified as Bridge, games as mindless as Checkers or Old Maid; they would put an insomniac to sleep. Why, better to play Monopoly, Lincoln Logs, Pick-Up Stix, Chinese Checkers, or other Christmas games requiring no skill. Absolutely no science reposes in “Forty-Two”; it is the equivalent of paint-by-numbers sets. A random game of chance, its addicts are those who have failed at “straight” Dominoes and covet an occasional accidental victory. Even married couples can play it and, what’s worse, they do.
Only if no other game is available will the true straight Domino aficionado consent to play four-handed “partners”: the only testing that matters comes in two-handed games, one-on-one, where one man faces another eyeball-to-eyeball until somebody blinks. (Notice, please, I said “where one man faces another”: it is not a sexist remark to report factually that no female who ever lived played a decent game of Dominoes; such information is simply and purely a matter of historical record.) In playing “partners,” one may be victimized by the capricious or whimsical malpractices of a misguided ally or by cheating opponents who employ covert, illegal signals by hand, eye, or verbal codes.
When one Domino player faces another, however, the showdown is as lonely and inevitable as the old western six-gun fight: the slow gun will die. Infrequently, it is true, the slow gun may accidentally snap off a lucky round. Over the distance, however, with class having the better statistical chance to assert itself, the fast gun will win. This is why, when challenged to do a championship match, I require all pretenders to agree to a minimum of fifteen games; those who capture as many as five are entitled to rematches within six months.
This has only happened once. In 1948, when I was a war veteran attempting to re-adjust to civilian life and had double-pneumonia besides, I escaped with only a 9-6 victory over Mr. A. L. (Al) Purvis of Fort Worth. In the rematch, I smashed him fifteen-love; Mr. Purvis now sells real-estate. From 1949 to 1961, I lost not a single game in championship match play. In the rain and wearing broken eyeglasses, I was held to a 12-3 victory about four years ago to Dr. LaMoyne Livingston of Comfort, Texas; he has since moved his practice to another town and has joined Dominoes Anonymous.
I shall give no detailed explanation of Domino rules here, assuming that anyone who has played so much as one game thinks himself an expert; at least, my average challenger seems to be so inclined. I shall, however, happily, list those components I have found most valuable in a lifetime of unbroken Domino successes:
• Intelligence: This is, of course, a mere affirmation of the obvious. Dominoes requires more native brains than chess, calculus, or Harvard College, and I say this as a former professor. The race is always to the swift. You will see why it is such a brainy game as we move along.
• Confidence: Getting it is no problem; keeping it is. Approximately 64 per cent of my former opponents have sought mental-health therapy.
• Defense: George Allen, coach of the Washington Redskins, preaches that defense wins football games. So, too, with Dominoes. I will eschew counting—whether five or thirty-five tempts me on the board—if it appears likely my opponent may hold a repeater rock. The secret is to score only when the odds are against the opponent repeating or topping your count. To use another football analogy, don’t give up any cheap scores; he can’t beat you if he can’t score. Should your opponent appear eager to run fives on you, cut them off as quickly and mercilessly as you would a mooching in-law: fives are lethal scoring weapons, the hydrogen bombs of Dominoes.
• Flexibility: Each rule has its exception. When faced with an opponent who himself plays defensive Dominoes, I unexpectedly blitzkreig him for two or three rapid big counts—fifteen, ten, twenty—and then, as he throws caution to the wind, I abruptly shift back to a steel-trap defense. Usually, he’ll play wild for one or two more plays, taking counts I’m likely to match or top, before realizing he’s been had. By then, he’s out of control and you can beat him humming.
• Aggression: One need not play conservatively simply because one honors defense. Anytime I have four or more Dominoes of the same suit, I will ignore obvious counts in order to “pass” my opponent and send him to the boneyard in long, vain searches for the needed trey or six. If you are running blanks, aces, or deuces on him, then he’s got to draw some god-awful big ’uns. You then domino for excessive profits, demoralizing him beyond quick recovery.
• The Down: When one has the “down”—i.e., the opportunity to play the hand’s first domino—more opportunities than simply scoring present themselves. Inferior players, unable to make ten on the down, grow churlish; often they foolishly settle for making five when they might better use their down to establish the suit they prefer as the spinner, or rid their hands of large garbage: a lone six-five, etc. If one is faced with the down and has absolutely nothing in one’s hand to promote, thought may be given to fouling up the opponent’s hand. For example: should you own a given double and no others in the suit, then down it. Your opponent likely has at least one in the suit, and if your hand is varied you are almost guaranteed to play on the other end. This also prevents his establishing the spinner of his choice. If you happen to down the double in a suit where he’s strong, keep playing on the other suits so he must cut off his own preferred rocks and can’t accumulate in the spinner-suit toward a cinch domino. The “down,” like football’s specialty teams, may break a close game wide open.
• Psychology I: Again, as with football, Dominoes requires mental preparedness. The player ready to play is halfway home. One must not let one’s attention wander to television sets, the jibes of hecklers, or small fires. One chatters incessantly to those who abhor it, and remains mute in the presence of most who would talk. Even while chattering, however, the superior player will be certain that the calculating corner of his brain never rests. If you can’t verbally thrust and riposte while keeping your mind on the dominoes enough to observe your opponent’s pattern and recall what rocks have been played in each suit, then silently suffer your opponent’s wiseacre cracks until you’ve beaten the poo-poo out of him. Then let him decide who’s dumb.
• Psychology II: After you’ve obliterated an opponent in a given hand—or game—idly say, “One day, Oakes, I sure would like to know why you played it that way.” This implies the sheerest stupidity on his part, and gives him something extraneous to think about during the next few hands.
• Psychology III: Since the loser of the previous game always gets the “down” to begin the next, never fail to remind him “The pig-tail gets the down” or “The down goes to the weeper” or “The down’s to the man an hour late and a dollar short.” There are endless variations: just be certain to brand him a loser in his own mind as frequently as possible.
• Psychology IV: Late in a hand, should you be in possession of a great number of rocks because you’ve been forced to draw from the boneyard until it’s bare or nearly so, casually remark, “You’ve got the five-deuce and the double-four,” or whatever is appropriate. This is possible by knowing what’s on the board and in your own hand. Many opponents will be disconcerted by your declaration, even if capable of the same trick themselves. After you’ve successfully called an opponent’s hand in this manner two or three times, then miscall one of his rocks. He’ll be so eager to prove you wrong he’ll likely play it at the next opportunity; if you’ve figured it right, he thus plays the rock you want him to play.
• Psychology V: Laugh, as if you didn’t intend to, while your opponent is studying the board. He’ll be so determined to discover the danger you’ve convinced him exists that he may overlook the obvious, and thus blunder. For good actors, a sigh, a slight headshake, and a fleeting grin will work as well.
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