National Championships
The rules are laid out for a game I’m not sure I signed up for. Pre-game prep seems to be storming about, trying to find a stable that’s been assigned by someone holding a grudge, for some unknown reason, against my horse and myself. Or perhaps someone is slyly testing my mettle when it comes to show comportment! Situated well enough not to flag attention to complaint, but oddly enough that it involves engagement with the entire crowd of game players in all their guises. I find myself wishing for a tourist guide to “players’ tells” to ensure I’m not, in fact, pissing off every person that walks by!
I have a feeling this is falling into the unforgivable lament of an old, fat, white man who’s realised his world is about to topple!
Horse settled, I have time to assess the competition! The arenas. The dungeons and dragons style quest to said arenas. And, most important of all, but never to be admitted out loud: where and how soon do the coffee trucks open? For without caffeine, the entire shaky deck of cards will surely come tumbling down upon our heads.
I’m a reluctant player. No surprise there, as I’m a reluctant participant in life, as things go. Luckily, my horse is up for the challenge, despite this being his first Hunger Games. His first National Championships! Emboldened by company, he struck out to the Kudos arena for prep and familiarisation. Oh, to be ignorant of the whys and hows we ended up here! But then, they’re the same incentives that keep me from fleeing.
Happily, he held his own in the arena and looked, I believe, perfectly on par with the other horses, despite my trepidation. It’s only useful knowing you have imposter syndrome if, in fact, it’s not true, and if you have a plan of attack when the feeling arises!
I wonder when they speak about gut instinct or gut-wrenching, they were, in fact, referencing how body-dysmorphic you feel at a dressage show and how exhausting sucking your stomach in is! The only fleeting downfall to having a sidekick who most wonderfully looks after your horse and calms every quake is that everyone admires her quite vocally for supporting her fat old dad having a day out at a show!
Not despite the support, but indeed because of it, we bumbled out, played the game with some really badly thought-out manoeuvres, but also some really excellent plays. I’m clinging to the feedback, nines and fours are better than all sixes!
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