Summer Gamesmanship

By Stefan Kanfer

AVOIDANCE

With the exception of the common mosquito (Culex vulgarly), no warm-weather animal is as relentless as the Late-Summer Athlete (Hospes strenuous). As the calendar winds down to Labor Day, he (or she) coaxes colleagues away from a leisurely meal, hauls them up from blankets in the sun and hammocks in the shade--all in the name of Sport. For the victim, no pest coil or 90-day collar will serve as repellent. No, the only proven method of defense is Summer Gamesmanship.

CHESSMANSHIP. The late Stephen Potter, Field Martial of Gamesmanship, conceived this classic chess ploy before Bobby Fischer pushed his first pawn. Challenged, the Summer Gamesman makes three random moves and resigns.

Summer Gamesman: You're bound to take my bishop after 16 moves, unless . . . unless . . . And even then I lose my castle three moves later.

Opponent: Oh, yes.

S.G.: Unless you sacrifice there, which, of course, you wouldn't.

Opponent: No.

S.G.: Pretty situation. Very pretty situation. Do you mind if I take a note of it? The Chess News usually publishes any stuff I send them.

So much for Potter. But with his death in 1969 it became necessary for disciples to develop Gamesmanship II.

Resignmanship, of course, requires only the barest familiarity with the game. Those with some chess skills may prefer the Stertorous opening, said to have been used by Shakespeare:

. . . And with a little pin

Bores through his castle wall, and

farewell King!

--Richard II: Act III, Scene 2

The Summer Gamesman moves, then closes his eyes sagely. A light but perceptible snore begins deep in his throat. The Gamesman "awakes" with a start and says: "Your move, isn't it?" This gambit is as variable as the game itself. It forces the Opponent to rush his moves and generally collapses his attack before the middle game.

GUESTMANSHIP. Debuting guests of an athletic Host can be unbothered through Sept. 21 by using variations of the Substitute-Weapon Ploy. If the Host lives near a golf course, the Guest arrives sporting a vigorous smile -- and a tennis racket. If the Host has his own ostentatiously tended tennis court, the Guest arrives with a vigorous smile and an archery set. Note: exuberance is as important as the Substitute Weapon. This July, armed with the proper smile, a nonswimmer was able to approach the edge of his Host's pool carrying a bowling ball. His words "but I thought you said . . ." have been adopted as the Official Excuse.

HOSTMANSHIP. On the floor of the guest-room closet, the Host secrets a corrugated cardboard box full of ancient trophies, medals and ribbons, purchased at local antique emporiums. The awards--the more tarnished the better --may be for floral arrangements or American Legion conventions; none needs have the Host's name on it. As he shows the Guest around, the Summer Gamesman opens the closet door.

S.G.: Just put your things here --oops! (Swiftly spirits away open box.)

Opponent: Are those yours?

S.G.: Ancient history. Before I broke my patella. I ... I thought you knew.

PARTICIPATION

The foregoing presupposes a pervasive sloth, a dedication to slumber and clear fluids of 80 proof and above. But there are those Summer Gamesmen who look to late summer as Jim Ryun does to Munich. Here, avoidance is worthless, and winning, as Vince Lombardi noted, is not everything--it is the only thing.

GOLF. As his opponent begins his backswing, the S.G. stealthily produces an 8-mm. camera and starts the whir of the machine. (The camera should be empty; actual film is bad form.)

Opponent: What. . .?

S.G. (with warmth): Do you mind if I ... I've never seen an amateur's swing so ... I don't know ... so articulated.

Either way, the Opponent, unglued by self-consciousness, should begin to slice by the fifth hole. Playing in a foursome demands a somewhat subtler technique. The S.G. immediately cultivates a friendship with the Opponent's partner (a flirtation, if the partner is of the correct sex). Once the Opp makes a bad shot, the S.G. exchanges a sympathetic glance with the Opp's partner. This should be accompanied by a sympathetic shrug or the whistling of two notes:

SWIMMING. The aggressive player is marked on form and on mastery of the new strokes. Robert Benchley recommends two distinct styles:

"The Navajo Twist: Rotate the entire body like a bobbin on the surface of the water, with elbows and knees bent. Spit while the mouth is on the upside. Inhale when it is under. This doesn't get you much of anywhere, but it irritates the other swimmers and makes it difficult for them to swim." And:

"The Lighthouse Churn: Just stand still, in water about up to your waist, and beat at the surface with your fists, snorting and spitting at the same time. This does nothing but make you conspicuous but, after all, what is modern swimming for?"

TENNIS (CLOTHESMANSHiP). Remember, Hercules was undone when he put on the fatal shirt of Nessus the Centaur --a brilliant case of halfmanship. The S.G. must continually keep in mind the axiom "If you can't volley, wear velvet socks." Thus, if the Opp is dressed in the customary white shorts, shirt, sneakers, etc., the S.G. should appear in old suit pants (preferably pleated and cuffed), a button-down shirt and rubber-soled black loafers. Conversely, if the Opp appears in unusual attire, the S.G. must spring onto the court in an outfit that would shame Arthur Ashe. The announcement "Tennis is like opera; if you don't dress for it, it lacks Occasion" is mandatory.

SERVEMANSHIP. The S.G. concentrates on defense, recalling the words of the Bard:

'Tis mad idolatry To make the service greater than the god.

--Troilus and Cressida Act II, Scene 2

On the Opp's serve, the S.G. looks at his own left forearm. If the serve is "in," the S.G. slaps his forearm muttering "Damn gnats." (If the Opponent should serve "out," the correct reply is "Out.")

VOLLEYMANSHIP. After winning a vigorous volley, the S.G. should come up to the net and shout encouragement to the Opp. "It's just a game, Fred," said with a deprecatory little nod, can work wonders, especially if the Opp is named Fred. When the Opp wins a difficult volley, the S.G. quickly produces and swallows two jellybeans. "Ragweed allergy" is the S.G.'s terse explanation. "Doctors [note plural] say I ought to lie down until it passes." The S.G. then returns to the baseline muttering "Bunch of quacks" and sneezing violently.

WINMANSHIP. Upon winning the game, the S.G. thanks his opponent for "the workout," which has put him in shape for the Manitou Open. (There is no Manitou Open.)

LOSEMANSHIP. Upon a loss, the S.G. limps to the net and says "Twisted it in the first game." He then laments that now he will not be able to make the Manitou Open.

TWO EFFECTIVE EMERGENCY MEASURES. For all group sports involving a ball, the Summer Gamesman may wish to use the Shakespearean False Contusion. Standing ten feet away from an opposing player, the S.G. asks to see the ball. When the ball is tossed, he follows the instructions of the Bard:

This pitch, as ancient writers do report, doth defile; so doth the company thou keepest.

--Henry IV, Part I: Act II, Scene 4

In other words, the S.G. reaches out --and drops the ball, shaking the fourth finger violently.

Opponent: What's the matter?

S.G. (in an accusatory tone):

Nothing. It's just [examining finger] going to wreak hell with my Goldberg variations.

The fact that Goldberg's is a delicatessen and the variations are on a salami-and-cheese sandwich is irrelevant. Thereafter, when the S.G. makes a passable play, he mutters, "Pretty good for a harpsichordist."

Or the S.G. may employ the Caloric Intake Ploy: Several hours a day (where possible, before game time), the S.G. remarks that the Opp seems to have gained a little weight since last seen. If he (or she) has never been seen before, remark on the startling resemblance between the silhouette of the Opp and the young Kate Smith or Jackie Gleason. The Opp will immediately begin dieting and by mid-afternoon will be dizzy and perhaps even faint during the game.

There are, naturally, the thousand maneuvers and gambits available to the Summer Gamesman, but Labor Day looms and, as Shakespeare has it:

If all the year were playing holidays,

To sport would be as tedious as to work.

--Henry IV, Part I; Act I, Scene 2

Besides, come autumn, there is One-Upmanship, Lifemanship, Winemanship, Businessmanship and Woomanship. And there is always Bardmanship. For quotesmen this is the week to get in shape for the Manitou Open.

sb Stefan Kanfer

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