Monday, January 27, 2020

Ten Years and Counting!

Hello, everyone! This is a quick post to recognize that today is the 10-year anniversary of the RetroBeliever blog! I was perusing my old posts and went as far back as the first one, which is here:

https://retrobeliever.blogspot.com/2010/01/welcome-to-retrobeliever.html

Since that first post, the blog has changed quite a bit. Initially, I focused on retro videogames from a Christian perspective, but I have since extended my reach into board games and popular U.S. culture. More often than not, my posts have tended towards a nostalgic perspective because what I write generally comes from looking backwards. Over the last few years, I have gravitated a lot more towards board games and rules, so I'm intrigued by the possibilities of what I may post in the future.

As of this date, my focus has been on loss, death, and being lost. Many of my thoughts have dwelled on those subjects because of recent events and what seems to be a mid-life crisis I am experiencing. I am at a point where I am fairly convinced I have already lived more than half of my life on this earth. It has caused me to cling to God desperately, and yet I feel sadness at how meaningless many of my pursuits will be when I have left this earth. In heaven, board games, video games, movies, TV shows, and even the fond remembrances of the past won't necessarily matter. What will matter, though, are the connections I made with people through those interests and events and whether or not I impacted them in the name of Jesus. Everything else is ephemeral.

I look at my 16- and 14-year-old sons and ponder the future ahead of them. There is some much for them to experience. If I were to die today, I would want them to know that I love them dearly and want the best for them on this earth, as well as for them to be in the presence of God in eternity. I pray that they can live their lives while making wise decisions and avoiding egregious mistakes and sins. I know that many of us learn through tragedy and error, but, as a father, I would prefer that they would not have to face many of those situations.

I am thankful for my wife, though I am not worthy of her. She is spiritually stronger than me and more inclined to read her Bible daily and pray. She leads her women's group with compassion and fairness. She yearns for the best for our sons to the point of physical pain. There is a part of me that would have wanted a better husband for her, but God had a plan when He put me in her path. She has made me better, yet I am woefully inadequate.

Lastly, with loving respect of my mom, I want to mention my dad, who passed away over three years ago. On the day before he died, I prayed with my dad and he indicated with nods that he gave his life to the Lord. If, in the entirety of my life, I could lead one person to Christ, it would have been my dad. Of course, I pray the same for my mom, but my dad seemed much further from God. When he died, I was stricken with grief, yet I was filled with hope that I will meet him again.

Thank you for reading my blog posts. You may have read one, or you may have read many, but I am grateful, nonetheless. I write these posts for an audience of one hoping that others happen upon them. May your gaming be fun and eternally purposeful!

Kobe Bryant: 1HN Clipper Nemesis

During my college days in the 1990s, I was a Los Angeles Clippers fan. No, this was before Blake Griffin, Chris Paul, and Lob City. No, this was even before Elton Brand, Corey Maggette, Sam Cassell, Cutino Mobley, and divisional playoff exits against the Phoenix Suns. Yes, it was the lean years of Loy Vaught, Rodney Rogers, Brent Barry, and lots of losing. They were a team that barely got on Channel 13 in Los Angeles with Ralph Waller doing his level best to provide expert play-by-play announcing and a semi-apathetic Bill Walton commentating. The Clippers were still owned by a penny-pinching owner and played in a desperately outdated L.A. Sports Arena. The mid-90s were not the salad days for this team.

Meanwhile, across town, the Lakers were also a middling team. I enjoyed that team with Cedric Ceballos scoring off garbage rebounds, Elden Campbell showing frustrating flashes of brilliance with long stretches of mediocrity, and a vibrant, young duo of Nick Van Exel and Eddie Jones playing consistently well. Then, in 1996, the Lakers acquired a high school phenomenon named Kobe Bryant in a post-draft day trade with the then-Charlotte Hornets for center Vlade Divac. Oh, and then they acquired Shaquille O'Neal... These were DEFINITELY not the salad days for the Clippers.

During my last year at UCLA, Kobe came off the bench and showed his own flashes of brilliance. I must have watched several Lakers games on NBC with my roommates during that year, and played as him in NBA Live 97. Recently, I played that game again, and discovered (again) that Kobe's attributes were not good enough for him to pull off crossovers. Indeed, his attributes in that weren't what they would end up being in future iterations of the classic EA Sports game, but they were certainly better than a lot of benchwarmers. In real life, sure, he had the Utah airballs and the Lakers crashed out of the playoffs, but he had that astounding combination of youth, athleticism, skill even at a young age, and audacity that indicated he would be something special in basketball.

In 1997, I left for Japan. In 1998, I returned, only to leave again in 1999. During my five continuous years in Japan, I followed the NBA and the exploits of the Lakers. I was able to watch the first game of the Finals against the Sixers, during which Allen Iverson and friends defeated the Shaq-and-Kobe Lakers only to lose the next four games. The Lakers would go on to win three championships in a row. I returned to the U.S. for the last time in 2004... and rooted for the superstar-less Pistons to beat the Lakers, which they did after Karl Malone went down with an injury. From 1996 to 2016, Kobe Bryant was ever-present for me as a Clippers basketball fan. I have to admit that I wasn't a rabid fan of Kobe Bryant, but he was difficult to avoid in Southern California. I would hear all about his exploits on drive-time AM radio as I inched my way home in the midst of traffic, and I'm rather convinced that he played particularly hard against the Clippers, who continued to be the also-rans of Los Angeles, even into the early days of the aforementioned Chris Paul and Blake Griffin. Three years ago, Kobe would end up retiring, but not before scoring 60 points in his last game as a professional basketball player. From the five NBA championships to the two gold medals (and eventually even an Oscar), Kobe served as one of the premier players of basketball, both globally and in the United States. He was also trilingual (English, Italian, and Spanish), which earned my linguistic respect. In any case, I didn't know Kobe Bryant personally, but whenever I chose to reinsert myself with basketball fandom, he seemed to be there.

Yesterday, as I left a movie theater with my family, my oldest son told me that Kobe Bryant had died. I found this news so incredible that I had to check the Internet myself. He, his daughter, and seven others died in a horrific helicopter crash earlier that day. I was shocked not only because nine people died in a tragic fashion, but also because a part of my past had passed away. After the previous seven days during which my family and I mourned the passing of three far-too-young men because of a senseless act of road rage, the deaths of nine souls caused me to revisit that sadness. Kobe Bryant wasn't any more or less important than the other eight people who lost their lives, but he has been etched in my memory as one of those sports figures that was a constant from my college days to my child-rearing adult days.

I lift up the families of the people who lost their lives in that helicopter crash. I pray that these families find comfort and solace in God.

Wednesday, January 22, 2020

When Board Games Don't Matter

Last Sunday, six young men piled into a silver Toyota and drove to a house on a dare. Apparently, the dare involved ringing someone's doorbell and then running away just before the door was opened. One of the young men ran to the front door, rang the doorbell, and bolted to the waiting getaway car. A middle-aged man answered the door and spied the Toyota escape down his street. Extremely enraged, the squat man rushed to his own while sedan, started it, and sped in pursuit of the young men. As the older man caught up to the silver car, he bumped it at high speed. From what has been reported, he bumped it more than once. After a particularly forceful impact, the young driver of the silver car suffered a concussion and blacked out.

The silver car careened off the road and collided with a tree.

The angry driver fled the scene.

Of the six teens, three of them passed away. Two of the survivors were brothers of the deceased. The driver also survived. My family and I knew all three of the deceased young men. We know two of the survivors. We even spotted them at church earlier that day.

When I reflect on this tragedy, I ponder how I did not do my part in youth ministry to impact these guys. This is not to say that any past interventions would have prevented this horrific outcome, but I think about how every young person deserves our attention. Every youngster needs the love and wisdom of adults to guide them. I find my mind and memory drifting to past moments during which I was in close proximity to them. I dwell on how I could have interacted with them, how I could have been more intentional with my conversations with them, and how I could have looked past whatever was happening to show them that Jesus loves them.

Then I think about my sons and how these boys were sons to fathers that loved them. I know I cannot fully understand what those fathers are feeling today; when I imagine it, the searing pain of loss is palpable, but probably doesn't approach the anguish of these men. Yet, I can comprehend enough to view my sons in a different light. I am thankful that my sons are still with me, but I have guilt about being thankful when those three fathers do not have that option.

I know that these boys are in the presence of God right now, and I know that God is present in tragedy. He has brought a church together in mourning, He has brought justice upon the perpetrator, and He has reached the hearts of many of the youths in the community. Yet, we all mourn. In a way that is essential for any human being, we should be devastated emotionally for we will not see these young men again in this lifetime. We will not see their smiling faces except in videos and photos...

But I know we'll see them again in a place where the sins of humanity are stripped away. There will be joy on that day.

Board games don't matter today. More than ever, what matters is God and people. What matters is that we hold on to our loved ones and those that need God's love with both hands for as long as we can because our time with each other here on this earth is excruciatingly short. The good news is that eternity is long. Treasure your loved ones now and prepare them for what is to come after this very brief sojourn through this life.

“And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose" (Romans 8:28).

Tuesday, January 14, 2020

The Expectant Look of the Lost

Every board gamer aims to conduct, or at least participate in, that ideal and miraculous board game gathering during which every person is thoroughly engaged and focused. At such an event, there are simultaneous games being played at various tables with each table run by an expert who can explain the rules and guide the proceedings. Those same tables are populated with players who are well-versed in the conventions of gameplay; they know the difference between deck-building and action-selection, the probability of rolling one result over another, and the merits of card sleeves and customized box inserts. No one is waiting for the action to come to them; each player is reading the rules, enacting strategy, and generally playing without the expectation of help or hand-holding. This is the best any board gamer could ever want.

Of course, this kind of gathering can be dishearteningly rare. More often than not, the resident board game enthusiast of a social group is THE authority on games, so he is called upon to pick the right game, teach a disparate group of learners about the game, know every rule, explain every tactic and strategy, and ensure that everyone is engaged and enjoying the experience. When this social group convenes for the odd board game night, most of them stare at the gamer, expecting him to conjure up fun as a magician would conjure up a rabbit from a silk top hat….

Stop RIGHT there…

That’s the look that I want to focus on in this article. It’s that glare… that look of waiting for one to do something. Physically, the head cranes forward slightly, the eyebrows are unfurrowed, and the lips are slightly pursed as if the person is trying to communicate escalating boredom through their eyes only. It’s a look charged with pressure, cautious anticipation, slight disapproval at the concept of playing a “board game…” It’s the same look that most people make when they attend a party but the host has been derelict in his duties and has, instead, opted to play X-Box in the guest bedroom while everyone else fends for themselves. It’s a look…

It’s a look that drives me crazy… but it’s the kind of look you’re going to have to handle.

See… most people don’t play board games with the interest or intensity that you do. Most people have jobs, make house payments, watch TV, spend time with their kids, spend time on their phones, and spend time yelling at their kids who spend time on their phones. If anyone is enthusiastic about something, it’s a myriad of other things besides board games, so when these people go to your house, they expect you to entertain them with your hobby.

You’re not alone, though. Every hobby’s enthusiasts have to endure this.

Yet, you’re going to have to accept it. For the longest time, I had (and still have) trouble with that expectant kind of demeanor. As you can tell in the title of this article, I have come to label that look as the “expectant look of the lost” (or ELL) because that’s what your non-board-gamer friends are:

LOST

This is the crux of my article. When I think about ELL, I consider how it is no use becoming bitter or upset when your non-gamer friends have no clue about how to participate in a board game party. It’s also no use expecting them to meet the high standards you secretly harbor about the aforementioned parties. Obviously, I state these points because I struggle with them, too, and my hope is to encapsulate the frustrations you might feel as a board game enthusiast.

Now, normally, I would frame this article as a “What to Do If…” article and list ways to cope with the issue, but I do not want to rely on that formula for this article. Frankly, I don’t necessarily have solutions for ELL because, well, it speaks into the inherent impatience of people (maybe just Americans?). People demonstrate this look for numerous reasons because, even though they are among friends and are generally safe from danger, they have little understanding or control over the proceedings but do not want to look overtly impatient. In my opinion, handling this can be reduced to the type of person you are.

If you are an introvert like me who fancies himself to be a person who is sensitive to other people’s feelings, you may see fit to read the room and decide NOT to play games; it’s the “high road,” but it causes the evening to be less fun for you. If you’re a lively extrovert, you may just enforce your will and drag people into game time; this may affect people somewhat negatively and sour them to gaming. If you a staunch planner type, you may want to plan ahead, assign key people to lead game tables, and organize people by table; some people do not like being treated like high school students, though. If you’re spontaneous, you may have to learn to overlook people’s quizzical looks and just play. I know that there are several viable approaches to this issue, but each one depends on you and who is in the room with you.

This leads me to something that I have not adequately addressed: why I am writing this article in the first place. Indeed, commiseration and catharsis are two motivators; ELL has been a thorn in my side for a long time, and I hope that others can relate. Moreover, the classic raison-d’etre of “writing a blog entry as a personal reflection” prevails. Setting these reasons aside, I know I am writing this article because of a core disillusionment I sense in myself about board games: essentially, they (or any other hobby) do not fill the God-shaped hole in all of us, and they certainly do no fill that hole in others.

This further leads me to a revelation: like almost every hobby, board gaming is a momentary distraction that ultimately leads to dissatisfaction and the desperate acquisition of more games to stave off the oncoming dissatisfaction. In this way, ELL is not the other person’s problem; it’s OUR problem. People are looking to us to entertain them; in a bizarre twist, we are looking to board games to entertain US. If we think about it long and hard enough, we find that everyone will be left wanting eventually. We are all LOST.

I realize that board games are fun, but I also know that I have to put them in their correct place. They are social lubricants, distractions, baubles, discussion topics, and ways to connect with others. They do NOT take away our boredom or impatience. They do NOT make our everyday lives more exciting and intriguing. In other words, board games are not that important. Once we come to grips with that, I wager that we find it easier to cope with the expectant look of the lost. We may never have that perfect board game party, but we can certainly form thrilling connections with others and forge lifelong friendships.

With that said, it doesn’t hurt to have a few gamer friends help you organize and run a board game party. With their assistance, a board game day with casual players can be supercharged and fun.