The Battle of the Ballroom, Part I

I like to read history -- not so much the kind of history that relates big battles and geopolitics, but moreso the kind that helps you understand how the people lived. What life was like, in other words. That might more properly be described as anthropology, I don't know.

There are obvious differences between eras, but recurring themes as well. For example, every period seems to go through fads or crazes over games. The 1920s featured both crosswords and mah jongg; the 50s was notable for Hula Hoops; the 80s saw the success of Rubik's Cube. At present we're experiencing at least 2 such crazes -- not including video games, which have taken on a life of their own.

According to our friends at ESPN, poker is now a sport, with a televised World Series and everything. Now, a generation that mostly gave up homey family recreations like card-playing as unexciting has instead discovered the thrills of watching other people play cards on TV. I have perhaps remarked on such curiosities before (how unlike me to return to a familiar theme).

Although I'm pretty sure televised Sudoku will have to wait till the advent of ESPN-(some double-digit number), there's no question it has also become part of our cultural vocabulary (do I get any points for refraining from using the word Zeitgeist?). Why, just recently, Sherman's Lagoon did a whole week on Sudoku, and there can't be any better indicator of what's hip than the comics page. And no, I don't get all my ideas from the comics page.

You know -- by the way, this is our regularly-scheduled digression -- I sometimes feel bad about linking back to my previous posts so much. Then this week I was reading a Scholarly, Learned Theological Treatise that arrived in my e-mail inbox. The author constructed his argument at length and with care, complete with footnotes. When I got to the bottom of the page, I discovered that four of the six sources cited were this author's previous writings -- unpublished, at that. So this isn't just me yammering; I'm actually observing the current standards of scholarship.

As I have mentioned (ibid.), I enjoy Sudoku; I also have a bit of competitor in me, so when our local newspaper announced a Sudoku tournament, I was in all the way. Today was in fact that fateful day, so off I went to a local hotel "ballroom" to test my brainpower, and my knowledge of single-digit numbers, against the best this area has to offer.

It turns out the area doesn't have that much to offer (at least in volume), as only 14 other souls turned up on a sunny winter Saturday to match wits. I was issued ID# 10, which actually came in handy; later, when I had trouble finding my assigned seat, I was able to explain it by claiming I wasn't prepared to deal with any numbers greater than 9.

Since the newspaper was a co-sponsor, a reporter was circulating through the crowd (well, group, at least) interviewing my competition. I heard him say he was looking for a male contestant to interview, and someone pointed me out.

I didn't get to use any of my "A" material on him, like how I had brought my Sudoku dictionary (a Sudoku dictionary is an index card with the digits from 1-9 written on it. Or if not, it ought to be). Before I had much chance to uncork a magnum of sparkling wit, we were called into the room -- where I had the aforementioned seating issue.

You can imagine how I felt sitting there (at last) waiting for the tournament to begin... but to give you a better sense of what that was like, I'm going to continue this post next time in Part II.