…with Gary Moss

Archive for December, 2009

It takes a degree of courage to show up at a Scrabble Club and open yourself to the challenges of others, exposing your personal knowledge and lack of same.

Every year there are some who meet the challenge and face others head-to-head, playing game-after-game, sponging up the information that is available to learn from every turn in every game.

Two players at Club #350, in Orange County, California, made exceptional progress in the level of their play in 2009. They are: Donna Dwaileebe and Lorry Higgins.

Come play with us. Scrabble is fun and a challenge.

This week at CLUB #350 I distributed some Holiday Gifts to club members, sets of WHIZ CARDS. Some of the recipients commented, “He’s trying to make us better players.” Why not? It seems to reason that if one is attending a scrabble club, that person would most likely have an interest in becoming a better player by expanding their word knowledge.

I found it interesting that by the time I got to today’s email there was already one comment from one of the players. She pointed out an error on a web site address that I had provided. Then she said that she could not master even a single WHIZ CARD in the set she received. I don’t get that at all. How does someone with the skill to edit, lack memorization skills? Aren’t they one and the same, or at least related skills?

One of my favorite movies of all time is ‘Being Theree’, starring Peter Sellers. In the movie, Sellers plays the role of Chance, a simpleton, who through a strange set of circumstances becomes the confidant and mentor to some of the most powerful leaders and policy setters. Chance, formerly a gardener, calls upon his simple understanding of the cycles in the garden to provide lessons to his new Ivy League friends.

Scrabble too can relate to the cycles in a garden. The soil must be fertile. An action must be taken by the sowing of seeds. A prosperous garden requires tending and weeding. A well tended garden produces blooms or produce. An abandoned garden will go to seed.

How will tend to your scrabble garden today? this week? in 2010?

For some it comes naturally; for some it takes a concerted effort; the rest go through life without a clue. How sad!

Every cloud has its silver lining; every action has its reaction; every newbie has a potential mavin within.

One of the wiser men on the planet, Wayne Dyer, said it best, “When you believe it; you will see it.” But too many people wander through life waiting for some proof to show up, in their face, before they are willing to look for or see anything. You can usually recognize these folks by their mantra. “I can’t.” It makes life for teachers like me very frustrating. But it also provides us with an endless work schedule. I can’t imagine ever being finished in my lifetime.

Sometimes I think that I know how a mother bird feels when she nudges her offspring out of the nest, to fly on their own. After I guide those who work with me through the assignments in SCRABBLE 101, or after someone watches and applies the lessons in SCRABBALUTION, and even after someone purchases and learns a WHIZ CARD stem, I glow inside when I see them attain the next level of expertise.

The truth is that teachers see the extraordinary within their students long before the students see it within themselves. The trick that all ‘good teachers’ know are the words to say or the action to take that unleashes the student and ignites their spark.

When do you want to attain the next level of scrabble play? You can plod along slowly, making the same inevitable errors that others have made before you – or – you can team up with me and ride on the scrabble express toward success. I help people discover their personal extraordinary selves.

Call me NOW! 949.510.1673

Dear Santa,

I have been mostly good and nice this year. The few times that I have been naughty were related to playing phonies. But, if you know anything about competitive scrabble, you would most likely admire the creativity and wittiness of my made up words. I beseech you to turn a blind eye to my etymological transgressions.

With that said, I’d like to get down to business and present you my wish list for Christmas:

Please bring Cheryl Cadieux a full and speedy recovery. She brings so much fun and joy to all scrabble players, via her daily posts on her OSPD Network.

Give the DVD, SCRABBALUTION, to the masses of casual scrabble players and you’ll be helping them to grow the knowledge and luck that all players desire.

Send all the staff at BORDERS personalized Name Word List Plaques, the kind where the list of words are made up from the letters in their own names.

When you are sleighing around Orange County, drop some leaflets along with all the presents, inviting all to play at Club #350 and at The 1st Sunday Tournaments.

Give Tom Titus a new set of protiles so we can read the letters on the tiles and take his old, worn out, tiles and throw them away.

Bruce either needs a new deluxe board or a cleaning kit. He plays so often and there are so many dirty hands that touch his board that it is more than gross.

Lorry needs to win more often. Give her some WHIZ CARDS.

Susie has been one of the most loyal attendees at The 1st Sunday Tournaments. She travels about 70 miles in each direction in a gas-guzzling classic car. She could surely use some gasoline.

And lastly, for myself, I would just like a few more blanks (scrabble tiles) and some Chanukah candles.

Gary

Have you ever been blind sided when playing scrabble? I dare to say that it happens to every newbie when they first attend an NASPA club.

I am not saying this to frighten any potential club players from showing up to play at clubs like CLUB #350, in Orange County, California; Quite the opposite. Scrabble clubs are where the action is.

Peggy Thomas, if you are reading this, don’t let this keep you from attending tomorrow night at ARBYs.

Believe it or not, I get 1 or 2 calls every week from total strangers who find my name posted on the net at a scrabble site or article. Receiving the call makes me feel joyful. The conversation usually follows the same course. The caller begins by telling me that they love to play scrabble; they tell me about the little tricks that they have discovered on their own, that makes them the primary winner among their family and friends. Next, they apologize for not being as good as what they imagine club players to be. They often tell me that they are not competitive. (I don’t get that. They’ve been demolishing their friends and family, and enjoying it.) Then they ask about club play.

Newbies always say that they are afraid of making their opponent’s feel bored. Bullpucky! What they really mean is that they don’t want to feel embarrassed by playing poorly or suffering a major defeat at the scrabble board.

They can remain as King/Queen of the castle, playing at home – or – they can risk becoming a Pawn in the world of club scrabble.

Being a ‘Newbie’ is humbling. Every club player once began by being a newbie at some time. When I was a newbie in 1987, I was fresh meat to the likes of Rod Nivison, Paul Epstein, Karol Foss, and Chuck Armstrong. I experienced week after week of losses. But with each loss came another important lesson. I learned words and strategies that I would have never learned by playing the family and friends whom I beat up on a regular basis.

Some people who call me tell me that they will begin attending club when they become ‘better’. That is silly. They will never become ‘better’ without accepting the challenge from others who know more. And after 20+ years of competing, I can tell you that I still learn lessons at every club session.

CLUB SCRABBLE is not for the meek. CLUB SCRABBLE is not for the timid. CLUB SCRABBLE is not for the wannabes who are not willing to experience frustration and expend energy to learn more.

CLUB SCRABBLE is thrilling. CLUB SCRABBLE is challenging. CLUB SCRABBLE is a never ending learning experience.

I can guarantee that if you come to scrabble club expecting to win all your games from the get go, you will be BLIND SIDED. Just come to have fun and learn a lot.

A play on a tale by Hans Christian Andersen (1805-75)
adapted by Gary Moss, Laguna Woods, California 2009

Many years ago there lived a Mavin who was so exceedingly fond of fine new tiles that he spent vast sums of money on protiles. To him tiles meant more than anything else in the world. He took no interest in his wife, nor did he care to go to the theatre, or to drive about in his LA CAR, unless it was to shop for new tiles. He had different colored tiles for every single hour of the day.

In the great city where he lived life was gay and strangers were always coming and going. Everyone knew about the Mavin’s passion for tiles.

Now one fine day two swindlers, calling themselves newbies, arrived. They declared that they could make the most magnificent tiles that one could imagine; tiles of most beautiful colours and elaborate thicknesses. Not only was the material so beautiful, but the tiles made from it had the special power of being invisible to everyone who was too stupid, not to know the 2s or the ‘satine’ stem.

“What a splendid idea,” thought the Mavin. “What useful tiles to have. If I had such a set of tiles I could know at once which of my opponents is stupid or unfit to play me on my equipment.”

So the mavin gave the newbies large sums of money and the two die makers set up their casts in the cafe at BORDERS. They demanded the finest plastics and they pretended to work at their molding machines. But they put nothing into the molds. The casts stood empty. Instead, the plastics they stuffed into their bags. So they sat pretending to mold, and continued to work at the empty cast till late into the night. Night after night they went home with their money and their bags full of the finest plastics. Day after day they pretended to work.

Now the scrabble mavin was eager to know how many of the tiles were finished, and would have loved to see for himself. He was, however, somewhat uneasy. “Suppose,” he thought secretly, “suppose I am unable to see the tiles. That would mean I am either stupid or unfit. That cannot be,” he thought, but all the same he decided to send for his faithful friend, Podunk, to go and see. “He will best be able to see how the tiles look. He is far from stupid and splendid at this game.”

So the faithful old friend went into the hall where the two molders sat beside the empty casts pretending to work with all their might.

The mavin’s friend opened his eyes wide. “Upon my life!” he thought. “I see nothing at all, nothing.” But he did not say so.

The two swindlers begged him to come nearer and asked him how he liked it. “Are not the colors exquisite, and see how intricate are the patterns,” they said. The poor old Podunk stared and stared. Still he could see nothing, for there was nothing. But he did not dare to say he saw nothing. “Nobody must find out,”‘ thought he. “I must never confess that I could not see the stuff.”

“Well,” said one of the rascals. “You do not say whether it pleases you.”

“Oh, it is beautiful-most excellent, to be sure. Such a beautiful design, such exquisite colors. I shall tell the mavin how enchanted) I am with the tiles.”

“We are very glad to hear that,” said the smelterers, and they started to describe the colors and patterns in great detail. Podenk listened very carefully so that he could repeat the description to the mavin. They also demanded more money and more gold resins, saying that they needed it to finish the tiles. But, of course, they put all they were given into their bags and pockets and kept on working at their empty molds.

Soon after this the mavin sent another decorator to see how the men were ,getting on and to ask whether the tiles would soon be ready. Exactly the same happened with him as with Podunk. He stood and stared, but as there was nothing to be seen, he could see nothing.

“Is not the material beautiful?” said the newbies, and again they talked of ‘the patterns and the exquisite colors. “Stupid I certainly am not,” thought the decorator. “Then I must be unfit for my post. But nobody shall know that I could not see the tiles.” Then he praised the tiles he did not see and declared that he was delighted with the colors and the marvelous patterns.

To the mavin he said when he returned, “The tiles the smelters are preparing is truly magnificent.”

Everybody in the city had heard of the secret tiles and were talking about the splendid material.

And now the mavin was curious to see the costly stuff for himself while it was still within the molds. Accompanied by a number of tournament winners, among whom were Podunk and the decorator who had already been before, the mavin went to the smelters. There they sat in front of the empty molds, casting more diligently than ever, yet without a single tile within the molds.

“Are not the tiles magnificent?” said Podunk and the decorator. “See here, the splendid pattern, the glorious colors.” Each pointed to the empty mold. Each thought that the other could see the tiles.

“What can this mean?” said the mavin to himself. “This is terrible. Am I so stupid? Am I not fit to be a mavin? This is disastrous,” he thought. But aloud he said, “Oh, the tiles are perfectly wonderful. They have a splendid pattern and such charming colors.” And he nodded his approval and smiled appreciatively and stared at the empty molds. He would not, he could not, admit he saw nothing, when others had praised the material so highly. And all his friends looked and looked at the empty molds. Not one of them saw anything there at all. Nevertheless, they all said, “Oh, the tiles are magnificent.”

They advised the mavin to have some new tiles made from this splendid material to play with in the NASPA national tournament in Dayton, Ohio.

“Magnificent.” “Excellent.” “Exquisite,” went from mouth to mouth and everyone was pleased. Each of the newbies was given a decoration to wear in his button-hole, identifying them as winners of the “Noble Mold Prize”.

The rascals sat up all that night and worked, burning more than sixteen candles, so that everyone could see how busy they were making the set of tiles ready for the tournament. Each of them had a great big pair of tampers and they tamped the nothingness, pretending to mold the tiles fashion them with their expertise.

There was great excitement in the grand ballroom and the mavins tiles were the talk of the ‘The Last Word.’ At last the newbies declared that the tiles were ready. Then the mavin, with the most senior champion of the NSA, came to the newbies. Each of the swindlers lifted up an arm as if he were holding something. “Here are tiles,” said one. “The whole set are as light as a spider’s web. Why, you might almost feel as if you have nothing in your hand, but that is just the beauty of it.”

“Magnificent,” cried the other players, but they could see nothing at all. Indeed there was nothing to be seen.

“Now if the mavin would graciously consent to take his old tile out of tile bag,” said the newbies, “we could put the new ones into the bag.” So the mavin laid aside his old tiles and the swindlers pretended to help him piece by piece into the the tile bag.

The mavin turned his hand from side to side in the tile bag as if admiring his new tiles.

“How well they feel. What gorgeous colors!” they all said.

“I am quite ready,” announced the mavin, and he looked into the bag.

And so the mavin set off to the tournament room. It was a great success. All the people standing by and at the windows cheered and cried, “Oh, how splendid are the mavin’s new tiles. What magnificent colors! No one dared to admit that he couldn’t see anything, for who would want it to be known that he was either stupid or unfit for his post?

None of the mavins tiles had ever met with such success.

But among the crowds a little child suddenly gasped out, “But his bag is empty.” And the people began to whisper to one another what the child had said. “He hasn’t got any tiles.” “There’s a little child saying he hasn’t got any tiles.” Till everyone was saying, “But he hasn’t got any tiles.” The mavin himself had the uncomfortable feeling that what they were whispering was only too true.

So he drew from the nothingness in his tile bag and played a phoney that the most knowledgeable of knowers could never challenge.

So, I’m sitting at Bruegger’S this morning, enjoying my morning bagel sandwich and coffee and a lovely young lady sits down a few tables away with her drink, her school books, and her parrot.

Just another day in southern California.

At first, she placed her bird on the table where it walked around exploring. Of course, she brought a small bowl of feed for ‘Polly’. And then, when she imagined the bird was thirsty, she shared her drink. The parrot perched on the arm of her chair and slurped from her cup.

I was completely taken with the scene and a bit envious. And as long as this isn’t the year for ‘The Bird Flu,’ I’m all for it.

It got me to thinking about things that I could bring to the scrabble table that might hypnotize my opponents and draw their attention away from the business of winning their game.

My flow of memories recalled the mammaries of certain high ranked ladies, in low cut tops, at tournament competitions, that completely mesmerized their male opponents. Fair? Probably not. But there is no rule against it.

I’ll have to give the premise some more thought and develop some unique strategy. If you watch my sinking NASPA rating and witness an amazing turnaround, you’ll know that I had been successful. But please don’t tell!

I was away for the holiday. For me, it’s sometimes more fun, doing something different now and then, and having a new adventure. But I have to say, as nice as the time was, I was happy to return home and sleep in the familiar, comfort of my own bed.

I was away for less than a week, and yet as I approached the last 10 mies of my return trip I began to notice how changes had occurred during my absence. Roadwork had begun on Aliso Creek Road. Holiday lights were strung along entrances of many communities. A more vibrant holiday spirit was evidenced in the people, in the smiles of shoppers. And the sun set earlier.

Even though I had my computer with me on my trip and I had kept up with some email and written a blog or two, I felt as if I were lagging behind, and had to catch up. My first act, after entering my home and putting my meds in the refrigerator was to boot this computer and check for email. (Thanks to all of you who took the time to send me Thanksgiving greetings.) I grabbed a piece of paper and made my TO DO list for today. Then I settled back in my easy chair and made a few overdue phone calls, including the one to my mom.

For me, returning home is like a new beginning. I literally reboot the pieces of my life that have been asleep or shut down during my hiatus: The 1st Sunday Tournament scheduled for next Sunday; the meetings of Club #350 this week (and the drawing for the jackpot winner for November); the resumption of my projects on my Mac.

Even though I was ‘on vacation’ for the last several days, I took myself along. What that means is that my brain kept churning out all kinds of ideas for future projects and events. I took great notes, both on paper and in my mind. Now all there is to do is incorporate them by doing.

I hope that you had a fun and safe holiday. What new beginnings lie ahead of you?