Like most of the service industry, Monday night is my traditional night off. It’s time I’ve spent fostering a handful of hobbies, including pinball. Stopping by Shorty’s on Monday evening became part of my routine almost immediately upon moving to Seattle. An unofficial standing commitment at Rendezvous put me in striking distance of my favorite dive bar. Pinball Cove is my mermaid’s cave as I learn to dance with the silver ball. At first, I didn’t know anything about special events. I just know some Mondays were more crowded than others. Immune to anything other than my own desire to play, I happily accepted Safecracker as my game when all the others were taken. The best part of being new to Seattle is identifying as a beggar among choosers.
The first person to mention the league to me was Andy Burton. A magical creature bearing marks of The Slayers, he is distinct even in a punk bar arcade. Unofficial envoy of Seattle Pinball, Andy’s affable demeanor sets me at ease instantly. It’s not long before I start firing off questions about the game faster than he can answer. His eyes momentarily go wide with what-have-I-done panic but he recovers and tries to patiently respond. In turn, he gets a word in edgewise and gently floats the idea of a Pinball League. I demur immediately, citing my known anger issues with competitive formats. I believe I told him, “I still love just playing the game. Don’t want to risk ruining that with the chance of disappointment.”
That was summer 2016. How little I knew then. In subsequent years, my personal romance with pinball thickened quickly. Working as a bartender at Raygun, spending late nights at John John’s, pins replaced my previous dedication to video games. Throughout changing careers and various opportunities, disappearing into the game for just a few minutes remains my favorite way to relax. In fall of 2017 I was asked to sub for Magic Saves and experienced The League for the first time. Recognizing my love/hate relationship with competitive pinball, the scrappy Capitol Hill venue met me with good cheer. Losing the overall match to 18-Ball Deluxe, I never once felt the telltale pressure of performance anxiety. By the end of the night I’d made at least 4 new friends.
Since that fateful night, I’ve flirted with the idea of joining a team. Thanks to recent expansion efforts by League Elders there’s no shortage of places welcoming new players. Lack of affiliation hasn’t stopped me from hanging out at pinball joints on Mondays. I have an appreciation for league nights, curious about the choices teams make and how it affects the outcome of matches. Not to mention the actual thrill of witnessing impressive players doing what they love. Without any insight from the teams themselves it’s a little like watching pickup games in the park. I’m just an old lady sitting on the bench wondering which team is winning.
Given my spread of loyalties, I try not to favor any one team over another. Long-term players have their cliques and teams display exclusivity to different levels. More competitive groups exist while others focus on community building. Overall, everyone is there mainly to have fun. At least, that’s what I thought. I recently deigned to attend one of the most hotly contested social match-ups of the season, Add-A-Ball Death Savers vs Shorty’s Silverball Slayers. In my excitement to watch these titans joust I forgot to be subtle in my interest. Consequently, I was thoroughly chastised for trying to involve myself in something that doesn’t concern me. That’s not a joke, one of the players as much as told me I wasn’t welcome to spectate.
The suspicious Captain might be right. It’s like I’m invading someone’s family gathering. On the other hand, maybe that guy is wrong. Perhaps my interest is the tip of a social iceberg? Those of us interested in playing with people that welcome exuberance over experience. A place that encourages newcomers, regardless of their affiliation. How we treat the people watching us play is part of the game. For me, one of the biggest initial barriers is how public it is. Learning to play is hard enough, doing it while someone watches can be terrifying. That said, those who excel under pressure are the crux of the thrill. Don’t be willing to play in public if you can’t handle being watched. I’ve had amazing games where the only thing missing is someone to turn to saying, “Did you see that?”.