The Tournament

The tournament was exciting and the venue breathtaking. The mighty Atlantic Ocean was known for strong winds, severe storms and high waves, yet the views were stunning and the fresh sea air invigorating. Thousands had gathered at the luxury hotel situated on a bluff overlooking the blue green waters. They were there to crown a winner of the game often called the game of champions - by those who played it fiercely.

The strategy and gamesmanship could be intense, often resulting in a shouting match and game pieces being thrown across the room. Was it the oldest game recorded? Possibly. There was a copious amount of evidence tracing back to Ancient Egypt. It wasn’t always called by the same name but it was the same game. Currently played across the globe, it didn’t require communication therefore removing any language barriers. It also didn’t require many pieces, maybe a stick and some sand, or rocks and some chalk. It was often thought of as something to fill time or play in an elementary classroom. But, for an eager few, it was not to be taken lightly.

The competition date had been set months ago. Each competitor had been preparing for the big day, practicing for hours. Some brought in strategists from lands far away, others brought in nutritionists and sleep experts. There were scouts watching tournaments, looking for tendencies among opponents. It was a simple game yet it was complicated and, even with proper technique, it was often impossible to win.

After a series of preliminary contests, it was now down to the top four contenders who had each won numerous trophies and were well known in the world of competition. This was no surprise, but there was one favourite who happened to have a reputation of being the most difficult to deal with. He was a man of few words but of many disgruntled faces. Cursing and shouting regularly during matches when frustrated by his opponent’s actions was his mainstay. Bringing his own personal chef and sleep expert, his intensity had become his trademark. No one knew much about him other than he was very much a type A personality who was obsessed with the game. Interestingly enough, the 3 remaining players were also competitive and high achieving, but did not display the same intensity and actually seemed to enjoy the showdown.

A breakfast on the large outdoor patio was planned before the final contest as a chance for rivals to connect and socialize, get to know their opponents. It began well, chatting over coffee, a few rashes of bacon and a specially made frittata. There had been a breeze all morning so the waves had picked up and the sun glistened on the waters. It was peaceful and serene. The final four sat together at a table overlooking the water. A few photographers were taking pictures for a well‑known game blogger, and since it was a great chance to promote the game, everyone made sure to be on their best behaviour. Once they left, without warning, the mood shifted. It started with an insult, “This frittata is just a sad tasteless quiche.” Which lead to, “ Isn’t it good enough for you? Do you think your personal chef can make it better?” That was it! Two hands slammed the table, spilling the coffee and the glasses of water. The waiters were stunned, and did their best to clean the mess and calm everyone down but then the shouting began, “ How dare you insult my chef, he is important for my success. I will not eat this food with you and eagerly await defeating you this afternoon. All of you!” There was a harumph, loud stomping of the feet and then the room fell silent.

And then there were three. Breakfast was, in fact, superb and the guests were very appreciative, complimenting the kitchen staff who requested autographs and photos. Except for the earlier outburst, it was a lovely beginning to the day. The three contestants felt ready but wanted to brush up on a few things so went back to their rooms to prepare. On their way, they chatted about the behaviour that they had just witnessed, “Nothing new - same old, same old.” Could they have an advantage now? That was worth thinking about - maybe a strategy to use during the match? It is difficult to concentrate when annoyed - it could be a distraction. Would it be a fair contest though? They were sticklers for making the games as pure as possible - this would be cheating - so they decided against it.

In the large ballroom, the tables were set, the judges brushing up on the rules and the MC practicing his jokes. The final four were ready and waiting. The audience was noisy but the judges made sure to hush them before the starting bell. Pencils were sharpened, ready and waiting in beautifully made trays, etched with the date and location. At 3:00 sharp, the competitors entered, the MC announcing their names and highlighting each of their accomplishments. More photos were taken and the spectators applauded. After one of the adjudicators explained the rules, she rang the starting bell. The battle had begun.

It was pretty simple - a round robin type of format, they would play each other 3 times, receiving 2 points for a win. If the game ended in a tie, it would be replayed, but only once. There were incentives in place — for example, if any of your matches ended in a tie, you would forfeit $10,000 each time. That penalty reduced the prize money, which made the system pretty effective. For a relatively simple game, it could last a long time, as the participants would scrutinize each move.

Two hours after it had begun, a champion was announced. There was a tie in points at the end so an extra match was required but it was relatively drama free. Who won? The temperamental front runner prevailed but the tie left him noticeably humbled, nonetheless, he gave a smug shrug as he left the room. The remaining trio shook hands, “ Until the next contest.”

The MC had the last word, “Tic Tac Toe, a game with 255,168 possibilities.”