The Greatest of All Time
David R. Bowne, Ph.D. over at The Showbear Family Circus - Lancelot Schaubert's and Tara Schaubert's liberal arts circus. said ::
The question I am most frequently asked is this: “How did you get to be the greatest of all time?” My response is always the same: “I didn’t get to be the greatest, I made myself the greatest.” No one gave it to me, I earned the title, I took it; I willed it to be true. You don’t achieve what I’ve achieved by luck or the kindness of strangers. No, I’m the greatest because of who I am. It’s as easy as that. No one, not now, not then, plays the game like I do. People say I operate on another level. Lots of people say this, many of them extremely smart; all of them extremely envious. They beg me to know more. Truly, I’ve had grown men, and many beautiful, beautiful women, beg me to teach them. It’s embarrassing really, the begging and the pleading. But even the greatest of all time can’t resist the adoration forever. That’s why I’ve agreed to write this piece; well that and the money. Money is most important. See I’m already doling out words of wisdom. So for all of my adoring fans, here’s what you’ve been waiting for. Here’s how I became the greatest Monopoly player of all time.
I wasn’t born the greatest player. I didn’t emerge from my mother’s birth canal clutching a pewter top hat and stack of golden $500 bills. No, for one thing, I was born via caesarean section, as God intended for the most successful families. Keep to a schedule, make it happen when you need it to happen. That’s a good line – you should highlight it. It’s as true in playing Monopoly as it is for deliveries, whatever the package.
I started playing Monopoly when I was seven. Yes, a whole year earlier than the suggested age range printed on the box. Obviously, I was advanced, a board game prodigy. I’ll accept that label but I don’t agree with suggested age ranges. It’s a bunch of PC bullshit designed to keep us down. Hell, if a three year old wants to play the game, let him. Worst that can happen is he swallows the iron. We all need a little iron in our diet, so no big deal.
As I was saying, I started playing Monopoly when I was seven. I mostly played with my younger sister and routinely destroyed her. I think maybe she won once. I was much, much better than her. And don’t make this out like I’m some sexist. She wasn’t bad because females don’t have a mind for business. She was bad in comparison to me. Honestly, everyone else it too. Sex is irrelevant, except of course if the woman is really smoking hot. No beautiful woman is ever irrelevant. You can quote me on that, as long as I get royalties.
A few years went by and growing weary of pummeling my sister, I turned to new opponents – classmates at the boarding school I attended for middle school. I won’t lie, these kids knew their way around a Monopoly board. They didn’t mess around. One kid would snatch up railroads like they were candy and then jack up the price. Everyone called him Vanderbilt but the nickname never made sense to me – his real name was Smith. I’ll admit I lost a few times to Vanderbilt and some of the others, but nothing was going to keep me down. I experimented a lot – trying out utilities, working on the best trades, avoiding the allure of Boardwalk and Park Place. I learned how to build, what to build, and when to build. My hotels spread across the board. It was a beautiful sight. A sight I didn’t want to end. But all beautiful things must end, or so I thought.
As I played into high school, I became increasingly frustrated with the game. I’d spend a Saturday afternoon at the board, earning money, creating developments, all to have it end when I forced my opponents into bankruptcy. I won but still my empire would crumble as we’d fold the board, hotels and houses sloughing off the surface like cheap buildings in an earthquake. And then a week later, my previously vanquished competitors would be back. We’d all be at square one, duking it out again on the hard streets. This never-ending cycle seemed wrong to me. I would accumulate a fortune in property and dollars, but then it would all be taken from me the very moment I claimed victory. It was completely unfair. Why shouldn’t I be able to hold onto what I earned rather than have it redistributed to the masses with the start of each new game? For a game based on capitalism, the rules reeked of socialism. The rules obviously needed to be changed.
Then one day in my senior year, I had just wiped the floor with these two classmates. Total losers, I don’t even remember their names. But a third kid had been watching. Him I remember – Joey Polanowski. He was always talking smack, like he was God’s gift to real estate transactions. So I said in front of everyone, “Hey Joey, if you think you’re so great, why don’t you prove it? Play me.” I knew Joey couldn’t back down, not in front of everyone. He mumbled something about anytime, anywhere. So I said, pointing to the board, “right here, right now.” He looked around the room, obviously looking for an out, but the other guys weren’t having it. So he just shrugged his shoulders and said something lame like “yeah, let’s do it.” He moved to clear the board, but I wouldn’t let him. Because at that moment, I had an epiphany. I knew what I had to do and knew I was about to change everything. I said, “No Joey. If you’re so great, prove it by beating me with the current board.” His eyes grew wide at the suggestion. I held monopolies with hotels on the purple and gold properties, but the rest of the board was pretty undeveloped. “Just think of what that would do for your reputation if you beat me under these conditions,” I said. I could see him considering it, but I knew deep down that he had to say yes. He couldn’t pass up the possibility to humiliate me. I knew him well enough to know that. And that’s another key to my success – you play the person, not the board. Yeah, someone said something similar about poker, but this wasn’t a silly card game. This was Monopoly, the greatest board game ever created.
He agreed. I kept all my built monopolies, but returned all the undeveloped properties and utilities to the bank. I also kept my money, while poor Joey started with the standard $1500. I crushed him. It was almost funny. Towards the end, he was whining about it being unfair. Unfair? Has there ever been a loser that hasn’t complained about something being unfair? Winners never complain about fairness. If he was better than me, he would have won. That’s a simple fact. I earned my status, and there was nothing unfair about him being unable to knock me down. He just couldn’t compete with my awesomeness.
Joey wasn’t alone. All of the kids at my boarding school wanted the chance to unseat me. Each wanted to prove his mettle against me, against the titan of Monopoly. They willingly played against my established wealth, and each lost. But they kept trying. I’ll give that to them. They did keep trying, but none fared any different than Joey. I was just too good, too skilled at deal making, too talented at real estate transactions. In my mercy, I would throw them a bone; let them have a few houses on Connecticut Avenue, maybe a railroad or two. Give them enough to stay active, stay fighting but not enough to pose an actual threat. One kid during college had the bright idea of adding another board to the mix, to free up more properties. It was one of those special edition versions, with properties named after movie locations. He hoped it would throw me off my game. It didn’t. My dominance just spread to the other board, and the one after that.
I haven’t lost a game of Monopoly for 30 years. Just think about that incredible record. Clearly, I am the greatest of all time. The greatest deal maker, the greatest strategist that has ever lived. Perhaps the greatest that will ever live. Time will tell. If anyone does unseat me, it will probably be one of my children. They’ve already struck gold in the genetics mine, what with my brains and my wife’s unbelievable body. I have no doubt they will be achieve great success on their own. They’re already pretty good at Monopoly, and will be even better once they inherit all of my properties. But I’m not ready to pass along the deeds quite yet, not to them or anyone else. No, I still have a lot of game in me. So to everyone who has read this memoir, I hope you’ve gained insight into how I made myself the greatest player of all time. Just don’t expect to replicate my success. After all, there can be only one GOAT. And we all know who he is.
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