The Geek Shall Inherit

I'm a jumble of pride and shame today -- Zak and I played our first game of Pokémon.

He's been into the cards for a while, but had never tried to learn how to play the game. I'm proud that my 7-year-old quickly picked up the game mechanics, turn sequence, card abilities and all that. But there's also a twinge of guilt for leading him down the path to full-fledged geekdom I took.

I don't think I even started at such as tender age. My earliest memories of stereotypically dorky inclinations are from fourth grade when some of my school buddies introduced me to Dungeons & Dragons. We didn't fully grasp how the game was supposed to work, so we "played" as we went about our normal daily activities. No, we didn't beat on each other with toy swords. But I was a cleric, and when I sat down to lunch I'd announce that I was casting Purify Food and Drink on my meal. Without fail, one bite in Jason O'Toole would cackle that he had poisoned my PB&J AFTER I cast my spell and I was now dead.

Needless to say I didn't think this seemed like a very fun game. But for whatever reason I bought a basic rulebook and module B1: In Search of the Unknown and kept after it. And eventually, for whatever reason, something clicked.

I won't bore you with all the details of afternoons spent drawing up castle plans for my mage, Thorgul the Mystic. Or how I had a map of the World of Greyhawk on my bedroom wall. Or even how I created my own science fiction role-playing game just for fun that for some reason I was able to turn in for an 8th grade English project. Mr. Butterfield gave me an A+ on it, probably in large part because it made absolutely no sense to him. Let's just say that I continued to play D&D until after I graduated college, and that if someone called me today and said they were playing this weekend and would I be interested in joining them I'd give it serious consideration.

I enjoyed a couple of relatively non-nerdish years, then in 1994 Danelle's dad bought a bunch of us all cards for this game called Magic: The Gathering for Christmas. Like Michael Corleone, I'd been pulled back in.

We tried it a few times over the holidays, but eventually everyone else in the family stopped playing but me. So I started going to play at comic shops and fell in with a group of other guys who became my primary social circle. We used to play for fun at one shop while a guy named George Baxter (who was quite well known internationally in the Magic community) gave presentations on how to succeed in tournaments. We called his young sycophants "Baxterheads" and snickered at their folly.

Then we moved to Denver in 1997, and I got sucked into the tournament scene myself. Somewhat ironically, my transition to the dark side happened at a store called The Light Side. I was never a great tournament player, but I won a few and was ranked in the top 20 in the state in my favorite format. I joined a team, went to play-testing sessions, participated in a local Magic e-mail list. I was in as deep as you can get.

Just how geeky is Magic? When I told someone I befriended through a text-based online role-playing game based on Robert Jordan's Wheel of Time series that I played Magic, her only reply was, "Wow -- you ARE a geek." Ouch.

Anyway, around 2004 I decided I couldn't devote enough time to Magic to stay as competitive as I wanted to be. So I gradually drifted away, and now I probably haven't played at all in about a year.

That text-based game kept my geek flame burning for a while, then last year I took up World of Warcraft which Danelle had already been playing for about a year. I think it's safe to say my geek cred is beyond reproach without even getting into things like my collections of comic books and Star Wars action figures.

So this afternoon there I was at the kitchen table with Zak, listening to him crow with glee as his Lucario attacked my Piplup with Aura Sphere. Sure, he and I hike together, go to baseball games together and "cool" stuff like that. But I'm excited about this new activity we can share.

And I officially apologize here in writing in advance for all the dates he won't get and wedgies he WILL get because of this. But hey, I still ended up with two Super Bowl rings and a hot wife despite my own geekular leanings. And I didn't even roll a 20-sided die to get them.

What Has It Got In Its Pocketses?

Zak's older cousins sent him the little custom binder they used to use to store their Pokemon cards. He was very excited about this, and immediately put his entire card collection in it. That's entire as in not just Pokemon cards, but also baseball, basketball and football.

As we were walking into church this morning, I was surprised to see Zak's new binder in his hand. "I forgot I was holding it," was his rather unconvincing excuse when I took it from him. Fortunately it was small enough that I could quietly conceal it with my Bible and not have to explain what I was doing with it.

Zak knew he wasn't supposed to take his toys places they didn't belong. He'd been scolded before for smuggling little goodies that fit easily into pants pockets to school.

I really freaked him out one morning when I saw that he had stuffed some cards into his backpack. I just took them out and didn't say anything. He sheepishly told me that night that he had lost them, and was amazed when I produced them along with a stern warning not to do it again. I never did tell him how I got them -- nothing wrong with your children thinking you just might have supernatural powers.

What's interesting to me is that I did the same thing when I was his age. I actually remember getting into trouble one summer for bringing things like a little plastic chimp from a Barrel of Monkeys and a Matchbox car on the bus to summer camp and not letting other kids play with them.

What's the explanation for this behavior? I can't exactly recall my own motives, but it's probably a fair guess that I wanted attention. Of course I couldn't let the other kids play with the toys I brought, because then I would no longer have the attention that came with those toys. There was a little cruelty and selfishness in this approach, too.

I don't sense the same intentions in Zak. Of course, when I ask him why I typically get the standard "I don't know" (quivering lower lip optional). Sometimes when he manages to get cards past our morning security check he tells me very excitedly at the end of the day that he'd traded cards with another kid. They seem like honest trades where both parties leave happy, too. Not like when Scott Bulgaro talked me out of my O.J. Simpson rookie card. But I digress.

Unlike the young me, I think Zak's motives are more altruistic. Or at least more inclusive. If he's trading cards, that means other kids are bringing theirs. I don't think Zak's trying to stand out as much as he may be trying to fit in -- just finding something to do with his friends.

Part of the reason I don't want him taking stuff other than school supplies to school is that he already sturggles to stay focused sometimes. I'm afraid knowing he had an action figure in his backpack would be too much for him, and said action figure would come out at an inappropriate time. But maybe getting to bring his trading cards could be an incentive instead -- something for Zak to look forward to at recess and lunch.

I guess it's worth a try when he goes back to school next month. But right now, I need to decide if I'm going to accept Pastor Corey's offer of two Articunos and a pack of Big League Chew for Zak's Ancient Mew. I guess that binder wasn't COMPLETELY hidden...