At the beginning of the school year, we sat Elijah down and said, “You gotta do something. Gotta do something. A club. A sport. A play. Marching Band. Your father will give you a thousand dollars to do Marching Band, btw. But you can’t spend this entire semester playing videogames. Gotta do something.
Eli promptly went out and joined the high school videogame team. Checkmate.
Before you ask, videogame teams are legit. There are real teams playing competitively across America. You can also get college scholarships. So, our mediocre parenting has paid off, baby!
He had to try out and everything. The game he chose is “Overwatch.” One of those shoot ‘em ups, but with Robots and Genies and Gorillas. Less “Bang bang” and more “Pew pew.”
He made the J.V. team but quickly caught the eye of the team captains because he actually took an interest in participating. Eli held team meetings and had a team dinner and organized practices.
But before the meetings and dinners and practices, Eli had to play twelve hours of Overwatch.
Due to some glitch, Eli didn’t qualify to play in high school tournaments. His…level…was…too…low…because…he…switched…yeah I’m bored too. Net net, he needed to sit at his computer until he reached some arbitrary number that allowed him to compete.
Playing videogames competitively involves rabbit like reflexes and impossible hand eye coordination and screaming like a banshee. During the first 3 hours of his marathon, Eli would scream and pound his desk and shout, “Are you serious right now?” Which has become our family mantra.
The rest of the family took this opportunity to visit the Greek restaurant where they light the cheese on fire and shout, “Opa!” I got a whole whitefish and gave Luca $5 to kiss the head on camera.
We arrived home and Eli was still in his crucible. Or else we assumed he was with all the screaming from behind his bedroom door. I mean, he could have recorded himself screaming and pounding his desk and tricked us so he could sneak off to play videogames, but we knew this was important.
The next morning left for work (yeah, they make us work at office occasionally) and caught Eli in the hall.
“How bad?”
“Four a.m.”
But he made it. I’m proud of him. I’m glad he’s having fun and meeting new kids and competing and getting out of the house. Virtually, I guess.
