Jim Kramer's Spectacular Tournament Stories
3 - A Case of Smiercase
(Note: MOC was not acceptable at the time this game was played. Also,
9-letter words such as SMIERCASE had to be looked up in Merriam-Webster's
Collegiate Dictionary.)
The last game of the 1995 World U.S.-Rules Championship was quite
interesting. I was playing Myclabber Holmes (Scrabblock Holmes's slightly
dimmer younger brother) when the adjacent position arose. It was the last round
of the Championship, and Myc and I were both 20-3, with me clinging to a
1-point edge in differential. (Scrabblock had had some bad luck, and was in
3rd place at 19-4, though his differential towered above ours.)
Unfortunately, the game was not going well for me. Myc led by 198 points and
was on the move. When he laid down SMIERcASE at H7 for 80 more points, my
heart sank.
"Hold," I said, as I always do on 9-letter non-OSPD2 words, even those
trivial finds such as he had just made. My rack was
ADILNO? and I had had
visions of starting a miracle comeback with a triple-triple. While holding, I
decided to get the jump on Myc in tile tracking.
The reader may wish to pause at each of the cut lines and try to determine
what happens next.
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After tracking the tiles, I was amazed to find a huge play available, if only
I could get at the last seven tiles. I looked again at Myclabber's play.
SMIERCASE. Of course it was a word, the anagram of CASIMERES, but wasn't
there something strange about it? I stopped the clock. "Challenge!"
The word came back as unacceptable, and Myclabber began to pick up his tiles.
A firm, authoritative voice from Board 2 said, "You may want to ask for a
second opinion." It was Scrabblock Holmes, who had been spending as much time
eying our game as he had in crushing his hapless opponent. (I had requested
that Boards 1 and 2 be widely separated at the end of the tournament--a
sensible custom followed only, as far as I know, in the tiny African republic
of Togo--but the director had declined, reasoning that Scrabble lore is much
improved by keeping the boards together.) I could see that Scrabblock was
longing to say more, but Rule XI was stopping him. Like me, Scrabby knew that
SMIERCASE could be found in the dictionary only under the word SMEARCASE,
which is on another page altogether.
Myc looked for a rather long time at his older brother, then requested a
second opinion. It also was returned as unacceptable. Myc then raged at
Scrabby--"You love making me look the fool, don't you!" Myc was clearly under
the impression that Scrabby had known SMIERCASE was phony.
"You need no help in that," Scrabblock said calmly.
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Meanwhile, I had a rack to play. Now that I knew what Myc had, it was clear
that the triple-triple DOORNAIL 15A for 122 was going to lose big to an
out-bingo. If I could just get at the last seven letters in the bag, I'd have
a chance to play CHOWCHOW. I could trade all seven, but Myc had trivial
bingos like CARESSER at 14A that would block the huge play. I'd seen one
error from Myc today; I wasn't likely to see another. No, he'd block CHOWCHOW
if he could--I'd have to make it unblockable. I also couldn't empty the bag,
or he'd bingo out.
With a twinkle in my eye (I'm sure of this--the ESPN cameras caught it), I
laid down LADINO at 3J for 21, pulling to within 177. No matter what I drew,
I could play CHOWCHOW next time for a minimum of 266.
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"I'm in a pickle," Myc said after tracking the tiles. "I was hoping just once
to finish above my brother in a tournament, but . . ." Myc's voice trailed
off as he began to hastily scribble calculations on his scorepad. I could see
that under some circumstances it could be an interesting problem whether to
pass or play here, but . . . I began to hastily scribble calculations on my
scorepad. We finished at about the same time. I looked at him, and I think he
knew I had drawn everything but the C.
"Pass!" Myc said.
-----------------------
Well, you've no doubt guessed the rest by now. I played CHOWCHOW (I forget
where--it doesn't really matter) for 275 and a 98 point lead. Myc played RAJ
J6 for 12 points (blocking both of my C plays), and as Scrabblock looked on
helplessly, Myc milked his remaining tiles for the maximum 80 points, and got
6 for my C.
The tie left me in first by 1 spread point and left Myc in second place. He
had finally beaten his older, smarter brother.
The two walked off together arm-in-arm:
"Smiercase! Sheesh!"
"All part of my plan to torment you, Scrabs."
"Yeah, right. Cum is a better indication of talent anyway."
"Sour grapes, bro."
"We'll see at the Intergalactics."
"Will Kramer be there?"
"Don't wreck the mood, Myc. . . ."
