Billiards, Battleship, and Teaching a 7-Year-Old Warrior Code

by Drew Holmes

“C-4!” Timothy called out gleefully.

“Miss” I replied, marking his shot with a green peg. “J-8”.

“Hit.” He said, dejectedly as he placed a red peg in his boat. “You sunk my battleship.”

His fleet was sunk, and I had won another round of Battleship. At age seven it was not exactly a fair fight, but Timothy had asked to play, and I was happy to oblige. He had learned the rules and mechanics of the game the day before, but the bigger strategies were still elusive.

In my teen years, our family had a pool table in the basement. Dad taught me how to hold the stick, line up shots, and put English on the ball. First, we played eight-ball, with its simple goals of sinking only your own balls and calling the final shot. Later I graduated to nine-ball and the requirement of striking (and ideally sinking) the balls in numerical order.

But to me the ultimate game was straight pool, every shot called, one point per ball sunk, first player to 100 wins. With my accuracy still developing, this could take quite a while to complete. Dad was usually reluctant to commit to a game on a regular basis, but on the occasions he did, I lost in spectacular fashion.

Over time, I improved and honed my skills. On my 17th birthday (a day I knew he would say yes) I took my shot and challenged dad to a game of straight pool. I do not remember any specific shots, or how long the game took but the outcome was a first: I won.

Before that moment I did not understand why he would never let me win. I do not know if he always played to the best of his abilities, but he had always played slightly better than me. In that moment when I finally won, I understood. He was not only teaching me how achieve, but he was also making that success meaningful.

If he had let me win without earning it, I would never know if I had actually won. When I finally did on my birthday, I knew that I had earned it.

The term “Warrior Code” means slightly different things to different people. I define it as having respect for your opponent and to show that respect by doing your best, bringing out the best in them and in yourself. Anything less is dishonest to us and our opponent.

“Let’s play again!” chirped Timothy cheerfully as he pulled the pegs off his board.

“Of course, buddy,” was my reply and we reset our fleets, ready for another round of plastic naval combat.

Someday he will beat me, whether it is at Battleship, billiards, or something else entirely. Until that day the way I can help him to learn is by setting an example of excellence and competing to the best of my ability. When that day comes, he will know he has earned a victory to be proud of, and I will be the first to congratulate him.