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Who knew a friendly game of dominoes could get so intense?
© by Mike Keenan 
We played dominoes with two retired friends last night, both of them in their middle 70s. We have known these dear people for over 40 years, but when we arrived home, Miriam and I concluded that you really don't know another person well until you have played dominoes with them. I should explain at the outset that Miriam and I rarely play the game of dominoes, and whenever we do, it's primarily in a sincere e ffort to act as pleasant company. And, I suppose for the sake of our lasting friendship, I should also change the names of our friends from Peter and Marlene to Gord and Pauline in case Peter and Marlene might read this. So there we were with Gord and Pauline, playing dominoes, which most of you probably associate with pizza.
Historically, domino pieces were carved from ivory or animal bone with small, round pips of inset ebony. Hence, domino tiles are also known as bones. They are twice as long as they are wide, a line in the middle suggesting a division into two squares. I like the feel of them, sort of a marble-like quality. Sadly, Peter and Marlene, I mean Gord and Pauline can't afford to own ivory dominoes, and despite the fact that they are into their 70's with three successful grown children and many grandchildren, none of that ungrateful progeny has seen fit to reward them with an expensive set of bones. It was Shakespeare's King Lear who pronounced the apt line, "How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is to have a thankless child!" But enough about Gord and Pauline's frugal, mean-spirited kids. Because we forgot the domino rules, Gord and Pauline had to remind us how to play, and in this respect I can say only that it's a good thing that neither of them were ever teachers! I counted at least three occasions in which we were misled (probably deliberately) or in which they waited for us to make a mistake, then corrected us at great loss to our domino progress. Another thing that you should know about dominoes is that it is primarily a blocking game and just when you think that you have a great play to make, say attaching a bone with 12 dots to another with 12 dots, along comes Gord or Pauline to spoil it all by substituting another bone which you cannot match and therefore you are forced to draw another domino and allow your pride and hope to be whittled away. You are also supposed to place a penny on your domino string allowing others to play on your domino. That's mainly where Miriam got into trouble. Pauline was actually Miriam's partner, but Miriam often forgot about the penny rule. The reminders from Pauline were gentle at first, but that courtesy lasted mere minutes. Soon, it was "YOU FORGOT YOUR PENNY!" and I had to quickly look away for fear of seeing Pauline and Miriam engage in a hockey-type brawl. Fortunately neither was wearing a sweater to pull over the other's head, but it did get tense like an old Habs-Leafs game with Jacques Plante and Johnny Bower in respective nets. It was apparent that Pauline was intent on winning. After the mighty team of Gord and Mike were trounced in three consecutive hands, Gord smiled and softly said, "Well, Michael; it appears that we have them right where we want them with a false sense of superiority, and it's time to make our move." Unfortunately, Gord said this at the table with both Miriam and Pauline within earshot, and I noticed a sudden grinding sound from the direction of Pauline's teeth. Miriam soon committed another error, and that's when Pauline read the Riot Act. Do you remember those swarms of Egyptians screaming in Cairo's Tahrir Square? Well, if Pauline had been there, the 18-day protest would have been wrapped up in a week, max. In the end, the team of Pauline and Miriam, the ladies, defeated the two gentlemen, namely Gord and myself. However, I don't think we are going to play dominoes again anytime soon. |
