I Play

17Nov08

I never pushed myself to stay wake overnight to read academic books and classroom notes. I did not torture myself that much when I was an English and Literature Major for two years. I perused the literature of Shakespeare, Edgar Allan Poe and other sagacious writers swiftly and not after the clock ticks 10PM. Though shifting to Political Science engendered more theories and concepts to memorize, nothing changed. I didn’t spare Karl Marx or Thomas Hobbes from my habit of sleeping at 10PM. And besides, thick Polsci books and readings make good pillows.

Things changed when I began handling a nationwide project under UN tutelage. 10PM lights-off became 11PM; it slid to midnight; then moved past midnight; until I felt my heart pumps not only blood but also caffeine. I enjoy work especially that it benefits a myriad of people, some of them I’ll never meet in person, but one night I asked myself, “When did I cease being a child?”

That is when I started recalling the games I played, games that made the world happen to me.

Teks

My younger brother, Jun, and I preferred collecting teks to betting them. Teks are cards that come in standard sizes designed after the hottest anime on TV like Dragon Ball Z, Ghostfighter, and X-Men. When engaging in a game, one should choose a pamato to match the opponent’s. The two pamato are then tossed to the air and whichever card that lands on the ground facing up wins. The prize depends on the negotiated number of cards to be betted. Typical quantity is five. There is however the “shoot” arrangement which is simply winner-get-all.

Despite being played in open places, the pastime is not insulated from smart alecks. In order to increase the probability of winning, some players apply lard at the back of the card. This modus makes the card heavier on the unfavorable side. Because of the undue advantage it creates for the person who applied, perhaps, the better lard, the practice has been treated an act of cheating.

There is also the habit of rock-solid cheaters which gives them a 100% chance of winning all the time. It isn’t hard to do, it’s just difficult to feign honesty and stomach the bad deed. One has to get two identical cards, paste them together at the cards’ back, and voila! You already have the ultimate fighting pamato that never lands facing the ground. Just be ready for an impending fisticuff.

Spider skirmishes

I saw an episode of Jessica Soho’s report where she featured spiders being traded. According to Soho, these spiders are shipped from far-flung provinces to Manila and then trained by the buyers. After an intensive human-spider training (one owner in the episode even feeds his spider flies and milk) they engage in a cockpit match (spider-version) where a piece of stick replaces an arena. Their rule is simple: The spider that falls thrice loses. It is important to note the necessity of money in the fight.

We enjoyed the way we conduct spider fights. We never bought the arachnids. We don’t even pocket out cash to spice up the matches. My friends and I (we were in grade school) hunt these spiders everywhere and anywhere- in the sayote plantation, banana trees, piggeries, lamp posts, pine trees- I said anywhere earlier. We prepare divisions in a matchbox, perhaps twelve small rooms, and fill them up with different kinds of spiders. Funny thing is, there existed a uniform nomenclature and hierarchy for all the spiders. We’d affix “mara” to the place where we caught the spider. If the spider is from the electric post it’s called mara-kuryente; if it’s from the sayote leaves, it’s a mara-sayote. The mara-kuryentes are the toughest of all. The weakest in the hierarchy, which are usually used for repast or mere training for stronger breeds, are the mara-balay (house). Aside from the origin, there’s the myth that spiders with dots at their back are more fierce fighting machines- we call them the “pultakan”. And still, the number of spots at the back indicates their place in the family. The most number of dots I’ve seen is four- thus “pultakan four”.

The fight is long but exciting. It simply is a death match. You’ll hear a lot of jeers and cheers when one contending spider finally delivers its coup de grace to the other- what else but to encase it in web. We can afford to lose all the spiders in our matchbox because tomorrow promises new fun for hunting.

Jolens

We had several games for marbles. The simplest is “pinugto” or guessing the number of jolens one holds in his hand. The one who guesstimates accurately wins.

The other one, and the most common, is “pinamatch” or hitting the bets inside a drawn box and the other player’s pamato. Two or more persons can play at the same time. The number of bets is first decided and then these bet-marbles are placed in a decided size of a square. The player, using his pamato marble, who successfully hits and releases marbles from the box will own it. But you’re out of the game if your pamato stays inside the box. One may also eliminate and capture the marbles released by another player by hitting other pamato.

Calculation and proper placing are essential in this game. Some of those I played with are prodigies. They are called “shooter” because they hit marbles with remarkable precision.

Pamatch

Similar to the pinamatch of jolens, this time we use cartoon characters made of plastic or rubber. The most common when I was in elementary are X-Men replicas. To increase the leverage of the pamato, we wrap them with copper wire. By gaining weight, we can grip and hurl the pamato (preferably rubber) better. Since papa is an electrical engineer, I wrap a lot of pamato and even supply some wire to my friends. The copper-wired pamato needs to be flat to defy air pressure (and there goes our childhood physics). The flatter the pamato, the more precision and power we get in throwing them. So we have to wait for Peterbilts (10-wheelers) beside the road and toss are pamato on the giants’ way. Luckily, nobody from our group became smashed tomatoes along the thoroughfare.

Goma

Girls would usually knot (or whatever tirintas is for Mr. Webster) rubber bands then play Chinese garter. I take pleasure in doing that. But boys would usually strike their pamato to overlap with another. If one successfully does, he gets the agreed number of rubber bands as reward.

Another game for rubbers is kicking the tirintas (which is typically made of a hundred rubber bands shared by the players). The rubbers that are untangled by however kick you executed becomes yours. A boring game actually

Touch the Body

This is our neighborhood’s version of Dodge Ball. We make a ball, approximately baseball size, out of plastic bags or old socks. Two teams play in this game. The shooting teams are positioned outside the perimeter that was drawn. The other team, the prey, is inside the box and is supposed to do everything to avoid the ball. If all the prey is shot, the teams shift roles.

There are ridiculous actions that my friends do to avoid the ball. Some lie down and crawl, some run like chicken, some jump like kangaroos, some standstill, but the brave ones anticipate the ball before dodging or catching it. A player gains extra life when he catches a ball. I love this game because of my proclivity in catching and hitting. I would fake some shots and execute it when my target least expected it. For reasons still unknown, my favorite spot is the target’s head.

Pog

The game boomed when Coca-Cola released its Pog design. I even remember waiting for delivery trucks to exchange the crowns and caps that have pog logos on it. Coke’s mascot for pog was the hairy creature which looks like Taz. The pogs made of cardboard are the ones used as bets while the thicker ones usually made of plastics are the slammers.

The mechanics of the game is simple; players pile up the agreed number of pogs then alternately hits the stock using their slammers. The pogs that turn upside down are bagged by the slammer that hit it. Another method is hitting each other’s slammers and paying the agreed number of pogs when one slammer turns face down- obviously the loser.

Some children bastardize pogs by playing with it like teks.

Gyera-gyera

The term means war. If my recollection is correct, we originally played war games using water guns. Then somebody introduced using water bombs making use of Pritos Ring and Zoom Zoom plastics (Some of my playmates turned maniacs who filled a plastic bag that are used in shopping malls). And time came when soil replaced water. That’s when war games became a step closer to real battles.

We used black soil to guarantee dirt on our opponents’ clothes. Clay (colored gray) would make sure the opponents feel pain. Sand added excitement to the game for it leaves an effect similar to a teargas explosion. The game is concluded when all the players in a team are hit thus there really is a need to strategize. We’d hide, crawl, and ambush enemies just like airsoft games.

This game literally left a mark on me when somebody put pebbles in a plastic bag. I felt the blood dripping from my upper lip even before feeling the agony. I’m lucky I didn’t look harelip after stitching back my lip.

Lawn Tennis

Only God knows how I got a pink super lightweight Kennex in our house. To prevent molds from eating it away, I tried out in the tennis club when I was in grade four. The training was set every Saturday at exactly 4 o’clock in the morning. We were punished by duck-walking around the tennis court if we came late.

I endured waking up 30 minutes before 4AM until grade six. Our mentor always tells me that I perfected the top spin which makes the ball accelerate when it hits the ground. The problem is I can do that unintentionally. Maybe it’s a God-sent penchant. Time came when I have to choose between representing the elementary school in the Palarong Pambansa or the periodical exams.

Did I just say “I choose”? Mothers know best. You know what I let go.

Chess

I played dama and perdi-gana (you let your pieces be eaten) with our chessboard when I was I child. These games were less sophisticated than the actual chess. And besides, I had no idea how to play chess. Like my tennis racket, I also don’t know where my chess set came from.

The first time I had access to the rules of chess was when papa bought a set of encyclopedia when I was in grade two. Using the concise information in the “C” encyclopedia, I mastered every move of each piece. Except for the knight, I had no problem memorizing the moves of the pieces. Learning techniques came with experience as one has to play a lot in order to learn a lot. So I played with anybody in the neighborhood from the apparent novice (with whom I played and tutored at the same time) to the local grandmasters. I remember doing the legendary four moves for five times to Jun (pawn-queen-bishop).

The self-learning paid off as I represented our section in inter-class tournaments and played during intramurals.

PS: To gain more strategies, I also took interest in playing other board games like the Game of the Generals, Scrabble, and more dama.

Inline skates

I was one of the many who was caught by Patrick Garcia’s Roller Boys fever. After watching the movie, and definitely excited by the action, I, without second thoughts, smashed my piggy bank and bought a pair of roller blades. It didn’t take long when most of the children in the neighborhood had a pair.

To practice in a wider and better ground, I always go to where mama teaches. That time, I still do not think of studying in St. Louis High School. I met some regulars in the high school grounds who also practice gliding and turning and stopping with their skates. When I felt the need to move faster, I’d customize my wheels using papa’s tools and equipments. I’d use auto lubricants and machine bearings to improve whatever I thought was worth tinkering.

After a while, some skating friends and I formed a group. We christened it the BULLS which stood for Big, Unstoppable, Loving, and Legendary Skaters. I needed beer to endure the humiliation of this moniker. And I am proud that I wasn’t the one who thought of that name. We even printed t-shirts for our group. At the same time, other groups mushroomed. There were Mighty Ducks, Mighty Morphines, and Thunders. Each group has its signature stunts. For the sake of saving my pride, I won’t describe our stupid move. We’d race, tag, and descend from mountains using our rollers.

I learned skating first before learning how to ride a bike. Before my inline skates finally disintegrated due to nearly three years of horseplay, I was able to crack four knee pads and two elbow pads. There was one time when I rode a mountain bike down a hill but collapsed midway. The knee protector didn’t endure the impact so it broke defacing the skin in my knee. Talk about pain.

Mini 4-wheel drive

I thought, and so did papa, I’d become an engineer because of my ingenuity in innovating my racing car. The game was popularized by the TV series “Let’s Go” where two brothers struggle to have the most well-rounded cars- this means having speed, balance, power et cetera for all kinds of race tracks.

I bought a Tamiya Max Breaker TRF kit with X-chassis and a generic rotor- there goes the jargon. But one is given a tabularasa when buying a new kit. It’s bare and is only as fast as the toys with rotating keys behind it. Those who have the money would pay for the most powerful motor, a Plasma Dash worth almost Php500. But there are cheaper and yet less powerful ones- the mach dash, hyper dash, super dash (?) which cost lower than Php500.

As I’ve said, I was a pseudo-engineer when addicted to the mini-cars. Instead of buying rotors, I wind them myself. Papa had the tools and materials and I had the curiosity to dissect, study, and replicate the set-up of effective rotors. I also used aluminum in crafting accessories for my MB. Papa also advised me of the best kind of batteries to buy to wantonly burn the rubber of my car. Being fast and furious, that was all I needed in every race.

Softball

Our school was near a ravine so baseball is unfit. So we have softball instead.

I was drafted to the sport when I was freshman. During the intramurals, everyone has to line up for a sport. While others choose the sport they consider their trump card, I lined up for a door which have something unknown behind it.

A day of orientation was all I needed to learn the terminologies and rules of the game. I volunteered as the short stopper since according to the trainer; it was the post advisable for neophytes. For the four years that I’ve been playing the game, blood rushes to my head every time the ball departs the pitcher’s hand. It doesn’t depend on what side I am in. And when I’m the one on the batter’s box, everything seems to move in slow motion; however fast I run I feel walking in a swimming pool and I kind of hear even pin-drops. There was not a game when I did not have contusions sliding from bases and I have to buy a pair of Advan monthly because of the torture of running like a mad man.

Basketball

Volleyball comes close to being a taboo in our school, at least for boys. Volleyball is homo game in our school. With the sensation brought by Slam Dunk, I loved basketball more.

I am familiar with the game as early as my grade school days. I’m a die-hard Shell fan though the hottest teams by then were Alaska and Ginebra. I know the basics- dribbling, passing, shooting, do’s and don’ts. And when my first official game during the Freshmen Basketball League came, I never had a single point. Our section, the star section, had a pretty complete roster: a towering center, muscular forwards, and fancy-dribbling guards. A skinny guy like me was always obliged to foul somebody else or substitute an exhausted or injured teammate. That’s better than serving as water boy for the team. Besides, bench warmers make good kibitzers during games.

When we heard of the Adidas Streetball Challenge, I instantly found my way of redeeming myself- that I can shoot baskets. Acting as the early bird, I invited the three best players in our section. I volunteered to arrange everything needed in the registration. Since I acted as the team manager, I was given jersey #1. The day of the games came and it was there when I felt the aura emanating from the number of my jersey. The overall assumption is: the #1s are the best players in a team. Too bad, we had to face Douglas Kramer in our first match. I scored two baskets and drowned our loss afterwards.

The second time we joined the Adidas Streetball, I asked for the #4. The number for the reserves.

Video Games

Mama had to regulate our playing time when it comes to video games. It started with a brick game then a family computer. I never left a game without finishing the missions and I was never bored to play a game over and over again. My first cartridge was Super Mario 3. Then a lot came after it. I played Contra, Battle City, Galaga, Pacman, Bomberman, Streetfighter and more. Tell me a game and I still probably remember the cheats of the game.

Not contented at home, I’d go to the nearest arcade to play role playing game (RPG). Especially when I’m spending my summer vacation in Bulacan, my cousins and I will never leave an arcade stall until our names are displayed as the highest scorers.

Then came Sony Playstation. Better graphics, good storyline, more possibilities- I really got hooked up by PS. I had almost a hundred games in our house that I play during non-exam days.

But my video game addiction subsided when I was in college because being away from my family means saving to avoid money shortage. But I still go to the arcade of malls to place my name in the high scores. And not uncommon to many, one game brought me back to my former video-game-master mode- DoTA. I remember playing DoTA for the first time last 2004. We started at 8PM and I was astounded to find the sun rising at the window beside me. There was one time when we were going home after almost ten hours of DoTA and we were meeting people going to Misang Gabi. Things like these happen when we play ‘til kingdom come.

I have played and have been involved in Sikaran, Tae Kwon Do, tumbang preso, luksong tinik at baka, pusoy dos, tagu-taguan, langit lupa, bahay-bahayan, paper doll, badminton, mountaineering, orienteering, hiking, FLAMES, syatong, jackstone and as much as I wanted to write about all of them, I might revert back to the child that I was. I have learned the essential lessons from each victory, losses, and bruises. It is one thing to use the past for the benefit of the present and future and another thing to be nostalgic about it.

Filed under: Uncategorized   |  5 Comments