Spoons - The Game of Groans and Moans

Anyone who knows me knows my love for sports. I've been watching them since I can remember and in that time I have come across plenty of violent ones.

There's football where a person can get hit and knocked unconscious or even have an appendage snapped in two. There is boxing and MMA where athletes have been killed from the beatings they have taken. And there is soccer where the slightest touch to an opponent will send them screaming and rolling around the ground like they've been shot by a machine gun.

But there is one other sport, or activity if you will, that leaves plenty of carnage in its wake -- spoons.

I was introduced to the game of spoons at Christmas and was shocked at the level of concentration and ferocity the game called for. Football has nothing on the carnage that spoons can create.

For those who aren't familiar with spoons it is pretty simple to learn. It's a fast-paced game that is played with an ordinary pack of playing cards and some kitchen spoons. Not knives or even forks as a friend of mine suggested. It is played in multiple rounds and the objective is to be the first player in each round to have four-of-a-kind or to not be the last to grab a spoon, because there is one fewer spoon than there are players. It's a lot like musical chairs, only instead of fighting for a seat you fight to the death over a spoon.

I recently played a game with eight friends. With nine people crowded around a small table, it is like a steel-cage death match. And because women can play -- most of them meaner and dirtier than the men -- it might be the most frightening sport there is. And then add a dash of alcohol consumption to it, I knew someone was going to get hurt -- probably me.

I hate it when I'm right.

On the very first hand as the mad scramble ensued I somehow found myself in a dog pile of hands and arms grabbing for a spoon. I don't know if the table moved, or if I was jerked across the table or if I just don't have control of my arms like I should, but I hit the corner of the table and was dragged for about six inches, according to the scratch that resulted. At least I got a stupid spoon.

Of course, the sympathy was light. I think I heard one of the girls say, "Well, I hope you don't get blood on your skirt." Welcome to spoons.

If you are the least bit timid or passive, stay away from the realm of spoons. The slightest hesitation and you will be watching everyone try to rip each other's arms off instead of doing the ripping. Then you will be out of the game and made fun of by all the other players still playing.

There is no love or honor in spoons either. If you play, you play to win. It doesn't matter if you have just proposed to the woman next you, if you are going after the same spoon, rip it from her cold, weak hands. If your significant other is the first to go out, it is apparently an unwritten rule to make fun of them and talk about how timid and weak they are.

As the number of players dwindle, the players that are out start making bets on who will be the next to lose. Again, there is no love and honor in the betting. Husbands and wives, boyfriends and girlfriends all bet against their significant others.

Forget alliances during the game, too. It is every man or woman for themselves. Before each round players were telling others, "I will throw elbows!" Unfortunately there were no warnings that the women would use their long, sharp, daggers called nails to free up a spoon but it did happen.

Those long, sharp daggers also put scratches in the table we were using, proving nothing was safe. Things were knocked off the wall and a light fixture over the table nearly ended up on the floor.

When the dust settled there were just two players remaining. Unfortunately I was off in the corner icing my arm, making wagers on who would come out alive while being emasculated by the women. So, of course, when the game ended and someone asked, "Wanna play again?" I said "Sure." I just had to make sure I was on the opposite end of the table than the girls.