About a week or so ago I spotted an article in the New York Times about the last of the pinball manufacturers, which ultimately led me to learn there’s a pinball hall of fame in Las Vegas and that there’s a league for pinball wizards in Orange County. Now, I’ve never been to Vegas and had no interest in visiting there other than the fact that I have a friend there I’d like to hang out with, but knowing there’s a pinball hall of fame clinches it for me. I’m going to Vegas, baby, Vegas! And soon.

I e-mailed the local pinball league for more information and they were kind enough to invite me over to the next meeting Sunday. I just figured it would be a bunch of guys like me who never got over the demise of the glory days of pinball and never adapted to video games (I will forever curse Pac-Man and Asteroids for teaming up to kill my favorite game). I was wrong. It’s a competitive league and before I knew it I was signed up for the monthly contests. Uh oh. I hadn’t played in some time. Oh sure, I was a pinball wizard as a kid and even won a neighborhood contest, but the eye-hand coordination isn’t what it used to be. Fortunately, the club meets at the homes of various members who have many pinball machines. At this particular house the owner had about 20 machines and I practiced on a few of them before the games, but not on the games I was to compete on later. That figures. I’m a Cubs fan – that sort of luck comes with the territory.

Still, I did OK in the first of the six rounds. I ended up coming in second place. Not bad. Then it was on to another machine that had Elvira for its theme. I was having a terrible game. The other guy I was playing against was a real wizard and very competitive. While we watched another opponent he went into alarmingly intricate detail about how to best score on the machine (in pinball lingo that would be “hit the specials.”). I was sweating now. I always was a bit on the lazy side when it came to the directions – I was just good at keeping the ball alive and more or less hitting specials eventually. I felt like Einstein was coaching me on trigonometry, not realizing I had just failed algebra. I just nodded my head, trying to look like I had a clue. Meanwhile, this other kid had one of those marathon balls that lit up every special on the machine. What a light show – it looked like a Pink Floyd concert circa 1979. Then the machine went dead. He worked that ball so hard it freaked out and his score got erased! Lucky for the rest of us we had another shot. I ended up snagging second place again!

On to the next round. This time it was an Indiana Jones game. Bad first ball on a machine I never played before. Then I hit my groove. I rocked the second ball. When I play – and especially when I’m in the zone – I get really physical with the machine. It’s all kung-fu dips and hops as I try to help guide the ball with body English. I’m like a ninja dodging stars. A crowd gathered around me. “Dude, nice ball!” I thought I was hot stuff. I racked up 171 billion. Then Jim comes along and obliterates my score. Something like 455 billion. My other opponent nudges me and whispers, “That’s OK, he’s ranked ninth in the country.” I didn’t feel so bad then. I achieved my goal. I didn’t embarrass myself. I got a few second places, couple of third places and one last-place finish (and that was cool because the two guys I played against had owned the machine at some point and played it regularly). More importantly, I met some nice people and I have something to look forward to each month as I take my stroll down memory lane. Maybe I’ll even splurge and go hunting for that game I won the pinball wizard contest on way back in 1979. Anyone got Bally’s Star Trek game from 1978 they want to sell?

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