October 21st 2020
Today I might have to stop playing Scrabble against my Dad. The bloke is relentless in his domination. We’ve got two simultaneous games going at the moment, and I don’t think he’s played a word worth fewer than 40 points in either of them in about 8 turns.
These are his latest plays:
I just can’t compete. Every time I think I’ve played a decent score the bloke comes back and tops it, while simultaneously closing off the board and somehow taking all the good letters. The man is a machine. I think he’s won about 7 games in a row now.
And he doesn’t fuck about. It takes me a solid two days to find a word to play that I’m happy with, but after I’ve played it, he’ll have returned to double my score within an hour.
Either way I try to play it, he finds a way. If I just go aggressive and play long, high-scoring words, it opens up the board for him to do the same. If I try and play a cagey, tactical game, he finds combinations I’d never have seen.
He’s outdoing me. But, in my defence, what the fuck am I supposed to do with this:
Mum, if you’re reading this to Dad, don’t tell him what my letters are. Actually, you know what, it’s hardly going to matter anyway. TAIIIII would only score me 47 points and it’s not even a fucking word. He gets more than that using two vowels and a consonant, somehow. What a player.
Of course, I’d never actually stop playing him, even if I am taking pasting after pasting.
It makes me happy to think of him sat on the sofa, seeing the notification on his iPad light up, reaching to the side table to grab his glasses, pushing them up his nose, realising I’ve played a wod, opening the app, analysing the board, playing his tiles, and then completely ruining my day with back-to-back 50 point words.
I also love the fact that five years ago I was playing Wordfeud against my Nan on the exact same app, and now I get to play against my Dad.
I don’t love the fact that I’m losing so much, but the sentiment still stands.
Until tomorrow, love you, Dad.