The other night, I played DVONN with the burrito boy, age 11. I had played before, but he hadn't. He won by a pretty good margin--which was surprising to me, because I usually win this--and I joked about playing for money next time. "Hey, the loser could pay the winner a nickel for every disc the winner wins by."
He thought about the range of money which could change hands in a game, and decided this was brilliant.
"Well... I don't think it's a good idea," I said, frowning. "Once you introduce real money, you make that the focus instead of fun. You introduce weird new pressures on the gameplay..."
"But winning your money will be fun," he said.
He wouldn't be talked out of it, so tonight we played again, this time for money. The first game was looking pretty bad for me, but in the last few moves I was able to turn it around; the boy ended owing me fifteen cents. He demanded a rematch.
The second game, from the mid-game on, it was looking grim for the boy, and at the end... he controlled no stacks. That game cost him a buck twenty-five! It wasn't the worst beating I've ever seen in this game, but it was pretty bad. Surely he could see the evils of playing for money now!
As I was tucking him into bed, he was jabbering about systems for tracking & paying out the debt, and whether interest should be accrued.
So, clearly, I have no choice but to take him for all he's worth. It may seem hard, but it is my responsibility as a parent to teach him how ruinous & morally wrong it is to game for money. Weeks of effort mean nothing to a good parent; all that matters is the eventual outcome of the character-building opportunity, that day when we're standing at the cash register, and he has to watch tearfully as I buy myself a present with his birthday money, and he whispers, "You were right, Dad. You were right."
We played three more games tonight. After the first two--both of which I won, putting him a total of $2.20 in the hole--I read this thread to him. (Gola, he didn't seem to remember the helpful advice you'd given him in the past, but you know I do.)
He insisted that we play again, and that now he was "enraged." This time I only won by one disc, after which he said he'd been only "partially enraged," that I had yet to experience the full measure of his rage.
He was upset that I sent him to bed at that point; he said he refused to go to bed losing. "Well, son, don't think of it as losing; think of it as gaining a valuable lesson."
"You mean buying a lesson."
I had to concede that he was right about that, but I don't think he actually got the lesson! He figured out that the maximum possible single-game swing is $2.45, and as long as he's down by less than that amount, he thinks he can still turn it around.
He insisted that we play again, and that now he was "enraged." This time I only won by one disc, after which he said he'd been only "partially enraged."
Dammit, I like this kid!
Mobility is everything, B.B. Every turn you want to be reducing your opponent's options and preserving your own. It doesn't matter how cleverly you've placed your pieces if you're forced to set off your trap before the rabbit's in the snare. What this means is that you want to jump one of your opponent's pieces every turn—never jump one of your own unless there's an insanely good reason. In the early game when everything's a big question mark and it seems like it doesn't matter what you do, take any little opportunity to reduce your opponent's mobility, even if it's only by just one piece.
It's tempting to focus on the dramatic, exciting moves where you get to pull off a really big swing, but Dvonn is just as much a vicious efficiency game where all the little nibbles eventually devour the cookie.
My dad did something similar with me and my sister when we were 6 or 7ish. We both got a $20 from him and were quite happy. He then proceeded to make sucker bets with each of us which we both promptly lost. We cried and cried about how we'd been taken and how unfair it was. I think after an hour he finally relented, figured we learned the important lesson, and gave us the money. I think it helped introduce some much needed skepticism in my life. But man that so sucked when we were taken!
When I were a lad my father asked my sister and I to choose horses which we thought might win the Melbourne Cup, which as far as I can tell is the Australian equivalent of the Kentucky Derby. I chose Van Der Hum, and she chose Dulcify. It was a muddy track, which suited Van Der Hum, and he won. Dulcify had a fall and was put down on the track. I thought this was an awesome result, but sadly I didn't become a problem gambler, so this story has no real point.
When I was about 10, I made a be that I could beat my adult cousin in a foot race. The booty was my new bike. Being given a huge lead as his handicap, I knew I couldn't lose. Well, I lost. I still remember him putting my bike into his truck and taking it away (I am now 57). I did learn a valuable lesson that has obviously stayed with me for a long time. Hope this kid learns too
KGS is the #1 web site for playing go over the internet. Visit now!
Yes, I really am that awesome.
Orangemoose wrote:
When I was about 10, I made a be that I could beat my adult cousin in a foot race. The booty was my new bike. Being given a huge lead as his handicap, I knew I couldn't lose. Well, I lost. I still remember him putting my bike into his truck and taking it away (I am now 57). I did learn a valuable lesson that has obviously stayed with me for a long time. Hope this kid learns too
If you're serious, then I hope that the lesson learned was "my cousin is an asshole."
Well, and "don't bet something you aren't willing to lose" too. But mostly it's important to know the "my cousin is an asshole" info, I think.
Full disclosure: I should have added that he only kept the bike for a couple of days and that my Dad was in on it to teach me the lesson. But I thank you for your well-measured response
(But seriously, it is cool that he's so into gaming!)
He's started introducing other neighborhood kids to Dvonn. "Hey, that's pretty nea--waitaminute... what's his angle?"
Tonight he got to $4.45 in the hole before agreeing that we ought to stop playing for money. Victory! (I considered losing that first not-for-money game, just to be funny--when I mentioned that after the game, he laughed too.)
