Four Square

Have you ever played Four Square?

Back in elementary school there was a Four Square court painted on the blacktop of our playground, but I don’t remember anyone ever using it. We were too busy with pick up football, chasing the girls or hanging out around the jungle gym. It seems to me we also had a hop scotch area, but no one ever used that either.

If you’re not familiar with the game then let me explain it. Four Square is kind of a mix between tennis and dodge ball. It is actually played in one big square which is subdivided into four separate sections. One person physically stands in each of those areas, defending his zone against a bouncing rubber ball that has been hit in his direction by the other players.

Don’t be fooled, I am hardly an expert on the game. I’ve only played it once and that was just a few weeks ago.

The competition took place at a gathering for Christian men. You see, most of the guys in my church belong to a small group, made up of no more than a dozen or so members. Typically each group meets once a week.  The first few gatherings are awkward but over time a bond starts to form.  These are the guys who you call during good times and bad. It is more than just faith, what you’re really sharing is fellowship.

A couple of times a year all the men, in all the small groups, get together for one huge extravaganza. We order in food like ribs or hot wings that you have to eat with your hands- that’s a very male thing to do.  We challenge each other to meaningless battles where our pride is put on the line. That too is a very male thing to do.

On this particular night a variety of tournaments were going on all at once. In one area people were challenging each other in air hockey, in another Fossball was the main activity. Ping pong, darts and Guitar Hero competitions were taking up the rest of the space.  Oh and don’t forget there were those of us on the four square court.

Each of the games worked on the premise that the winners got to play on. Meanwhile the losers were forced to exit and endure a long wait before they got a chance at redemption.

 Only a handful of us were playing Four Square. So, even if when you lost, things rotated back to you very quickly. The turnover gave you a chance to learn the ropes. You soon realized that this wasn’t a game of luck, but that there was in fact strategy- not to mention technique- involved.

 A scouting report on each of your opponents started to take form. Bob had a weak backhand. Todd, who recently underwent knee surgery, had troubles with the low shots. Eric was good- really good- he some how managed put backspin on the ball. At 6 foot three John had great reach, but he was awkward and often times off balance- if you got him crisscrossed you could probably score a point.

You ever see that episode of the Twilight Zone where a group of senior citizens recapture their youths by playing Kick the Can? That’s kind of what the evening for this group of middle aged men. Something about this grade school game just brought out the best in all of us. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that no one really cared about the outcome. 

Our excitement started to attract other men to the court.  The line was growing. A massive evacuation of the air hockey and Foosball tables were underway and the word was quickly spreading to the other areas. The evicted loser now had thirty, maybe forty plus guys, in front of him.

The crowd added a new dimension to the game. When you finally got back into the court there was now a certain sense of nervousness. Suddenly it felt like you were performing.

Though, many in number, the spectators stated to speak with a collective voice. An exceptional play was cheered. A foolish miss was groaned or moaned over. When Don was hit in the head with a misdirected ball, at such force that his glasses went flying to the other side of the room, the proverbial hush fell over the crowd. Moments later everyone was cheering again when it became apparent that Don was okay.  Technically he was out, but out of respect for his valor- and his glasses- the crowd let him play the next serve.

The bigger it got the better it got. That is, until….

“Hey! Hey! Hey,” one of the guys in line was yelling and pointing at one of the players on the court, “You palmed the ball. You just palmed the ball! You can’t do that! That’s an illegal hit!”

Who knows? The self appointed referee was probably right. To be sure Four Square, like all games, has rules. Unfortunately for us, this guy just happened to be an expert on them. He was young, brash, a college kid (probably going to school on a Four Square scholarship). To him Four Square mattered and to play it any other way than the right way- than his way- would be a sin.

“You got to be kidding me,” the accused player was trying to make his defense. “This is just a game.”

If Four Square operated under majority rule there’d be no doubt who would’ve won the debate. None of us waiting to play cared about the infraction- if it indeed it was an infraction. And yet the finger pointer spoke with such conviction and apparent knowledge that that the guilty party took his illegal palms and went to the back of the line

There has to be a difference between the spirit of the law and the letter of the law. Some just don’t understand that. They value rules more than what is really necessary. Sometimes the sticklers are advocating for the integrity of their cause but more often they are really just trying to prove their superiority. It is as if the rules exist just to make them- at long last- an authority on something. 

The Bible talks about this very thing. Several places in the Gospels Jesus choose to perform miracles of healing on the Sabbath. This enrages the religious sticklers, the Pharisees, who believed in the letter of the law. To them any work, even healing someone in pain, violated the rules.

 Once when healing a man with a mangled hand Jesus asked the crowd “which is lawful on the Sabbath: to do good or to do evil?”

Back on the Four Square Court, the finger pointer probably never thought of his actions as being evil, but they clearly had a negative effect. Once the fowl was called the entire atmosphere changed. The game went on- but now it seemed like  everyone was taking it far more seriously. Now it was far more intense. It seemed like people really wanted to win- at all costs.

Soon arguments were starting over whether a particular shot was in or out. Players were accused of colluding with each other in attempts to go after the strongest competitor. Trash talk- yes, trash talk was being thrown about; “You think you can handle this serve old man? Not in my house! Not in my house!”

People kept rotating in and out. Winners quickly became losers. Losers quickly became spectators. Spectators quickly became the people to beat- until they were eventually defeated. The more the cycle went on and on the more foolish our behavior appeared to be.  With the same collective voice we had once cheered with- as a group we all decided to call it quits.

As we all walked off in separate directions I couldn’t help but wonder about the impact this game had on our evening. Did it bring us closer or did it pull us apart. At the start of the night few of us had ever played this game before- and at the end of the night- because of the way things got out of hand- I doubted few of us would ever play it again.