The Game Player Read Free Page B

receiver’s fault when they’re not caught.”
    â€œBut it is.”
    Brian looked like he wanted to hit me for being so dense. “Does it make any difference how a pass is thrown if the receivers you throw it to can’t catch it? He might as well miss you by ten feet if they’re gonna come barreling in at ninety miles an hour. Danny doesn’t really want to win, he just wants to be thought of as a great person who’s being held back by mediocrity.”
    This was too much for me: I didn’t understand how a human being could not want to win and yet appear to. I guess it would be fair to say that Brian had just provided my introduction to an intellectual recognition of the unconscious. “You mean, he’s intentionally losing?”
    Brian smiled. Just a slow movement of the mouth, a private look of gentle contempt. “No, I don’t mean that.”
    He meant to allow the subject to be dropped, but I knew that if I permitted him to, I should be admitting stupidity. “Please explain,” I said. “I’m sure you’re right and I want to understand.”
    â€œYou’re sure I’m right and yet you don’t understand what I’m saying? That’s silly.”
    â€œNo, it’s not,” I said in a hurt tone. “Your description of Danny’s play is accurate, so your explanation of it must be right. What difference does it make if I understand it? I don’t understand the A-bomb, but it exists.”
    Brian opened his eyes wide in astonishment and then laughed. His laugh was a series of staccato grunts, theatrical and self-loving, but flattering because they seemed to be a kind of appreciative gesture. “Boy,” he said, letting out a few more, “that makes touch football pretty important.”
    â€œIf you can explain the A-bomb instead, then go ahead.”
    He laughed again, and I knew we were friends. It was the kind of joke only friends enjoy. “Well,” Brian said, “what I meant was that Danny is considered the best passer among us because he throws that way. So people think of him as a winner even though his team loses.” He looked at me. “Got that?”
    â€œYeah! I got that.”
    â€œOkay, just checking. So—he could try to win the games if he passed so that his receivers could catch the ball. But he’d have to throw less perfectly. And if he then missed—I mean throwing ordinary passes—then he would still lose the game and he would also lose everybody’s respect.” Brian stopped and looked inquisitive.
    â€œUnderstood.”
    â€œOkay. He’s scared to try and win because losing is so safe. See? He wins the good opinion of others by losing the game because of his teammates’ faults, and he never has to risk his own skill.”
    â€œWow,” I said. I felt the exhilaration of true knowledge: I understood suddenly how an alien being functioned. “Wow, that’s amazing.”
    Brian smiled his private smile. “Isn’t it?” He was pleased by my excitement. “I’ve always known that about Danny but nobody else has spotted it.”
    I thought for a moment and then said, “So Danny is intentionally losing, as I said.”
    â€œNo!” Brian slammed his hand down on my bed and I heard the jangle of the creaking springs. “No, no, that’s wrong. He does this without realizing it. He thinks he’s doing his best. He says to himself—himself! he says it to me all the time—‘If I had decent receivers I’d beat you.’ See? Deep down he’s scared to put himself on the line. That’s why I say he doesn’t really want to win. All he really wants is for people to think he can.”
    I absorbed this, my first perception of subconscious desires in other people, in silence. Awed silence. Brian paused for a comment and that encouraged me to ask, “But isn’t that just as good as