My "Sort Of" Trophy

It's odd how a single post about Wimbledon has got me onto a Memoir track that I hadn't intended to travel. I like to do that sometimes though — write about my past. It was Ginnie at Goldendaze-ginnie who first put me onto this possible use of blog space. That was her primary purpose in starting her blog — to record moments of her life and times for the benefit of her family ... and others. Although Ginnie has had a much more varied and interesting life than I, I do like the idea of recording my past, some of the time anyway, for posterity.

That's my way of telling Dear Reader that I am not quite done with recollections of my brief sorties into the world of competition. I do understand that eyes will glaze over at this point and that most will click onto the next blog. Just as long as y'all come back, eh?

In my last post, I mentioned that I would win a trophy ... sort of ... or of sorts ... or however exactly I phrased it then. It was to come from a very unexpected win at chess of all things. Now, I am required to back up and set the stage, but I'll try to give you the quick version.

For many years, I had mentored the school chess club and team. The club would meet in my room in almost every lunch hour. Some years, despite the silly notion of chess players being uncool, nerdish wimps, we had quite a full house with an assortment of students. Over the years, I've had tough guys, football players, hockey players, and track champions in the club and on the team, so the nerd image doesn't necessarily hold up, or didn't in my club.

I would often play against the kids at noon and frequently was quite successful. I'd play the best players and usually give a good account of myself, winning more than losing. There came a point when I wondered how I would fare against good, adult competition, so on one cold, winter evening, I showed up at the city chess club. Just in time for a round robin tournament. Yikes!

After a shaky start which involved getting used to the deeper level of play, I eventually managed to tie for first place after about two months of round robin play (one match per evening one night a week). The achievement was not as glorious as it sounds, for they referred to this tournament as their amateur tournament which the two best players sat out in order to give the rest of us a fighting chance. Nevertheless, the competition was still good: for the most part better than what I had been used to in the quicker lunch hour matches with the kids.

Then came the sort of trophy. The club presented me with a huge trophy that just about required a truck to transport to my house. I was to have it for a time and then pass it onto the co-winner. Since I hadn't won a trophy up to that point in my life, Cuppa had the trophy shop make me a small, permanent reminder of this slight achievement. And that's the sort of part because I really had to make my own. Sheesh!

Still No Trophy

I have confessed to not being a tremendous athlete although I have recently blogged about a modicum of success at two racket/paddle sports — tennis and table tennis. Although I won a crest for the tennis victory that I recounted in my last post, I still had never won a trophy of any kind for any reason. In point of fact, I've never won much of anything. For example: in all those yearly play (or field) days that kids are forced to enjoy/endure (take your pick) in elementary school, I only ever managed to win one ribbon and that was for third place. It was a race over gym benches that were set up like hurdles. I don't know how I even won that because I was neither fleet nor a good jumper. Nevertheless ...

Let's face it, one ribbon plus one crest do not represent standout lifetime achievement, and I couldn't even remedy my lot when I joined the teachers bowling league. I only played for two years before tiring of the game, but I am still bitter (just kidding) over not being given a trophy in my second year.

In my first year, I hadn't bowled for a while, so it took me a while to get my average up, and I sure didn't qualify for the trophies which they awarded to the five players with the best averages. But lo and behold, did I not attain the fifth best average in my second year and was I not in line for a trophy? Alas, no! No trophy for AC. Due to budget constraints, the league only awarded trophies to the top three players that year. No wonder I quit in a huff, eh? (more kidding)

Eventually, I did win a trophy of sorts, but that account will have to wait.