Word Nerd: Dispatches From the Games, Grammar, and Geek Underground

by John D. Williams Jr

  In our discussion, Spear & Sons demanded that Thailand should be banned from participating in any international event because of grievous illegal SCRABBLE manufacturing practices in that country. It was especially unfortunate that the Thai players became pawns in a commercial dispute, as SCRABBLE is arguably at least as popular in Thailand as in any other country in the world. No one knows quite how this came about, but word had it that it began when Thai leaders mandated that SCRABBLE was an official “sport” in the country and hundreds of school children were required to play in a national competition. Thai players, later admitted to compete, would go on to win the World SCRABBLE Championship—in English, their second language—in 2003 and 2009.

  The process of choosing the venue for the first WSC was every bit as murky. Spear’s executives were conservative by nature, and change was not something they innately embraced or pursued. Spear was a relatively lean, small family business and even though it held international trademark, remained unconvinced as to the game’s true international potential.

  So between Spear’s cautious approach and Coleco’s tenuous ownership situation, our initial meeting was inconclusive. That said, dialogue had begun, and a movement was under way.

  1991 WSC, LONDON, ENGLAND

  The first World SCRABBLE Championship, in London, was a landmark event for all organizers and participants. Many of us there were pinching ourselves in disbelief that the day had finally arrived.

  Personally, I have an assortment of random memories. For openers, the competition had pretty much been organized and formatted without any real input or consultation with the players themselves. As a result, there was an early elimination format that was so poorly designed that it eliminated perhaps the UK’s best international player, Mark Nyman, before serious play even began.

  This was a mind-boggling development to the American and Canadian players, whose sense of fair play overrode their relief at having a chief competitor eliminated. Unlike the organizers, they knew that a compromised early elimination round de-emphasized the skill factor in SCRABBLE and heightened the luck factor. Should a player get bad tiles—for example, no blanks or no S’s—in a couple of consecutive games, he or she was essentially screwed. This poor planning is one of the reasons why major tournaments are well over twenty rounds, as calculations show that’s when the luck factor has been mostly eliminated or brought under control.

  So there we were in London when several members of the North American team decided they were going to protest the WSC format and not play at all. The most vocal was Robert Felt, who angrily maintained the tournament was now a travesty. It was 1776 all over again. The Colonies did not like the way Mother England was running things, and they were going to change it.

  As I would do a few times over the years, I called an emergency meeting of the North American team, which totaled eleven players—eight Americans and three Canadians. There were also executives in attendance from the Milton Bradley Division of Hasbro, which was sponsoring and underwriting the entire trip for all of us. It goes without saying the executives were not particularly thrilled with this development. Their basic message to me was “Take care of this. And don’t embarrass us.”

  I found an empty meeting room in the hotel and assembled the players. I began by assuring them that I completely agreed with them about the tournament’s ill-conceived format. However, I reminded them of a few things.

  First, we were guests in another country. It was myopic and unrealistic to assume every other culture was going to do things the same way we do. Second, our trip was underwritten by Hasbro. We owed it to them to complete the “mission.” Third, carrying through with a protest would severely damage the fledgling international SCRABBLE scene before it even got started. I said the best thing we could do was play and win the first World SCRABBLE Championship.

  Still several players grumbled around me. I felt like Walter Matthau in The Bad News Bears, managing the colorful collection of talented but nonconformist individuals. I closed the discussion by reminding them that the next such event would most certainly be hosted by us in North America, and we could format it however we chose.

  And that’s exactly what we did. The brilliant, modest, and sweet Peter Morris, from Lansing, Michigan, emerged victorious, becoming the first person to win both a National SCRABBLE Championship—in 1989—and a World title.

  The Brits were characteristically polite, but not exactly happy with us. For openers, many thought our players were typical, pushy, talkative Americans—both in general behavior and in complaining about the format. They were also not thrilled about losing on their home turf. Hey, after all, it was their language. They would have their opportunity for revenge soon enough.

  1993 WSC, NEW YORK, NEW YORK

  We hosted the next World SCRABBLE Championship two years later, in 1993, at the world-famous Plaza Hotel in New York. The city was chosen because it was the media capital of the United States—if not the world—and all of us involved wanted to raise the profile of the event to the next level.

  The opening reception began with a surprise visit from the gregarious Regis Philbin, who showed up along with his producer Michael Gelman. They’d been down the hall at an ABC function and were intrigued by the SCRABBLE signage around the hotel.

  “Who knew there was such a thing as the World SCRABBLE Championship?” Regis quipped.

  “Not as many people as we’d like,” I told him. “That’s kind of why we’re here.” I went on to essentially pitch Regis and Gelman the idea of someday having a SCRABBLE segment on their morning show. They said they’d think about it, as Gelman and I exchanged business cards. It took a while, but several years later we had a great piece on the Live with Regis and Kathie Lee show, with School SCRABBLE expert Daniel Goldman playing a match against both hosts. Daniel won handily.

  Later, at the reception, I was astonished when two players from Kenya presented me with a beautiful carved ebony elephant with miniature real ivory tusks. It was about eight inches high, heavy and highly polished. It goes without saying that I was flattered. Fortunately, I found a way to repay their thoughtfulness. As we spoke, I learned that they would be staying with an African friend who was a graduate student at Rutgers in New Brunswick, New Jersey, and commuting back and forth to the event each day. They did not realize that this would probably be well over an hour’s trip each way in commuter traffic! But they had no choice as they were on a bare-bones budget. In fact, one of them told me that he had sold his car in order to attend the event.

  As I looked around the opulent hotel reception, it all seemed terribly unfair. The Americans, Canadians, English, and others were completely subsidized by either sponsors or their own national SCRABBLE organizations. The Kenyans had little more than the clothes on their backs and perhaps a battered dictionary stuffed into a small, worn suitcase.

  However, the SCRABBLE gods were smiling on all of us. Dave Wilson, president of Hasbro Games, was in attendance hosting the event. An avuncular guy, gregarious yet tough, Dave was a veteran of decades in the game business, extremely respected throughout both the company and the industry at large.

  He and I had formed a great bond over the years. Early in our relationship, he called me into his large, homey, masculine office in East Longmeadow, Massachusetts, and sat me down.

  “I have just two words for you, John,” he began. “Think SCRABBLE.”

  “Think SCRABBLE,” I repeated mechanically.

  “That’s what I need you to do. Every day. See, we have scores of games here, and everyone has to juggle multiple brands and responsibilities.” I knew this to be true. These guys worked their asses off.

  Dave went on to explain that he wanted to know that there was always one person out there always thinking about SCRABBLE—whether it was improving the game, marketing, publicity, events, partnerships, whatever. No one at Hasbro Games had that luxury of time and focus. So tag, I was it! Until his retirement in 2005, whenever I saw Dave he’d come up to me, wink or slap me on th
e back and say, “Are you thinking SCRABBLE, John?”

  My reply was always the same. “Every day, Dave. Every day.”

  Dave and I also agreed on a very fundamental marketing strategy for the game. It was simple: when telling the SCRABBLE story and building the brand, we should think more like chess and less like Monopoly. It was clear to us that the core properties of SCRABBLE and the perception of the game would play better from that perspective.

  Back at the Plaza, I brought the two Kenyans over and introduced them to Gail Rubenstein, then Hasbro director of corporate travel, and Dave. After the players wandered off, I explained their situation. It did not take long before Dave turned to Gail.

  “Do you think we can find them a room here?” he asked.

  Gail smiled. “I think we can make that happen.”

  “And let’s make sure they have room service,” he added.

  “Not a problem,” Gail said.

  We were all silent for a second, looking around the room. I spotted SCRABBLE players in turbans, saris, dashikis, yarmulkes, and more. It was Dave Wilson who spoke what we’d been thinking. He waved his arm across the room. “This is what games are really about. Not just business, not just profit and units sold. It’s about people—connecting with each other through games.”

  So the two SCRABBLE players from Kenya spent the week at the Plaza Hotel in New York, enjoying the luxury and their room service dinners. They did not perform particularly well, but the experience was not about that.

  This event at the Plaza had a few other highlights. It was, for example, the first time I personally saw a seven-letter play made right on top of another one. It was played by an Israeli competitor—distinguished by his SCRABBLE yarmulke. His play, the talk of the early rounds, was something like the plays below:

  ADAPTOR

  RELEASE

  TWO SOME

  OEDIPAL

  If one ever needed an example of why learning the two-letter words is so valuable, these plays pretty much provide it. Each play has one new seven-letter word and seven acceptable two-letter words.

  An entirely different memory at the WSC 1993 is a practical joke at my expense. We’d been lucky enough to have been given a ridiculously large suite at the Plaza overlooking Fifth Avenue. To take advantage of this treat, my wife and business partner, Jane, and I decided to host a small cocktail party one evening during the tournament. There were perhaps twenty-five people there, including players, Hasbro execs, and international SCRABBLE association officials. Also in attendance were our longtime friends Troy and Joan Gustavson.

  Troy and Joan owned and published our hometown newspaper, the Suffolk Times, and he was at the WSC to write a long piece about our involvement. His daughter, Sarah, and our eldest daughter, Kristen, both college students, were working as interns for the championship. The party was in full swing when I was approached by a rather reserved SCRABBLE official from Asia. The guest bathroom was in use, he said, and he quietly, almost urgently asked me if there was another bathroom he could use. I assured him that he was welcome to use our personal bathroom in the master suite and pointed to the correct door.

  He disappeared for a few minutes, then emerged from our bedroom with a strange look on his face. I waved, but he avoided my gaze. When I went over to investigate, he sort of shuffled away, proceeded to the door, and left. Perplexed, I went to the bedroom to see if there was anything wrong. As soon as I walked in, I could see the situation. It seems that my dear friend Troy had raided my closet. He’d taken four neckties from a hanger and tied one each on the four bedposts, so they basically looked like some kind of restraints used in a recent sexual escapade.

  While this would have been hilarious had it been played on someone else, I was mortified. I rushed to the bed, undid the four ties from their respective posts, and stuffed them in a drawer. I had two thoughts. First, I was glad the gentleman had been the only person who’d seen this—especially considering there were newspaper reporters and Hasbro executives at the party. Second, I was wondering how I’d explain this prank to someone whose English was marginal at best. I never had the chance.

  But the real story of the 1993 WSC was Mark Nyman, the newly crowned champion. Mark had established himself as a top player at a young age. He had come to New York several years earlier at age nineteen and amazingly finished second in our 1989 National SCRABBLE Championship. At just nineteen! And remember, Mark was playing with the “American” dictionary, which put him at a distinct disadvantage. It was truly one of the most astonishing tournament SCRABBLE performances in history.

  Mark was everything you’d want in a SCRABBLE champion. He was young, handsome, polite, humble, and brilliant and liked to enjoy himself. We had become fast friends and socialized whenever our paths crossed in Europe or North America. He played a remarkable tournament and came from two games behind to defeat a former North American champion, Canadian Joel Wapnick, in a best-of-five finals.

  The finals were being televised closed-circuit to a ballroom audience of perhaps two hundred people, including all eliminated players, officials, invited guests, media, Hasbro execs, and hotel staff who’d become fascinated during the event. The intensity was palpable as we watched the two players in perhaps the highest-stakes match of their lives. At one point, with the outcome still in question, Nyman leaned back in his chair, then forward again. Without breaking his serious expression, Mark picked up a pencil and scribbled something on his notepad.

  The entire audience leaned forward in their chairs, straining to see what he’d written. As the camera went in for a close-up, we finally saw Nyman’s note. It read: “I’D FANCY A PINT.” The entire room went crazy with laughter.

  Minutes later, Mark Nyman went on to win the game and the tournament. He and Wapnick entered the ballroom to a standing ovation and climbed up to the podium for the award ceremony. A weary and happy Mark strode up to the microphone as the applause slowly died down. At last, he looked around the room, leaned into the mike, and said, “I seem to be at a loss for words.” The crowd again erupted in laughter.

  As one might expect, the Brits were ready to celebrate after capturing their first World SCRABBLE Championship. Not only had they avenged their previous defeat in London, they’d done so in dramatic, elegant fashion. That evening, a group of us—Americans, Canadians, and Brits—had a glorious Indian dinner together. Afterward, most of us were exhausted and headed to our rooms. But not Mark. He and a couple of his best mates were going to keep the party going. As they headed out into the night, I reminded Mark that we had a 6:45 a.m. pickup for Good Morning America. “Not to worry, John,” he shouted happily as he crawled into the back of a waiting taxicab.

  And I didn’t worry—until about 6:00 a.m. Mark Nyman was missing. I called his room at the hotel—no answer. I called the head of the UK SCRABBLE team—no idea. Then the calls started coming to me. First it was the limo driver waiting outside the Plaza for us. Then it was a producer from Good Morning America. Then it was the limo driver again.

  By 7:00 a.m. I was starting to get frantic. Obviously, I was worried about my young English friend, out for a night on the town in New York, a city he and his companions did not know particularly well. I resisted thinking about all the grim fates that might have befallen Mark in an unforgiving Manhattan night.

  Of course, the professional side of me was worried as well. As always, it was understood that I would deliver the latest SCRABBLE champion to one of the “morning shows.” As mentioned earlier, this exposure was worth millions of dollars in publicity for SCRABBLE, more than justifying the expense of the entire tournament. As we approached 7:15 a.m., I knew I was in jeopardy of losing our segment.

  And then there were my all-important sartorial concerns—for Mark Nyman had borrowed my favorite suit and tie for the television appearance! Fortunately, there was a happy ending. Mark showed up around 7:30 a.m., cheerful, apologetic, and a tad weary. Yet he absolutely aced the interview before heading back to the Plaza for a much-needed and well-deser
ved nap.

  1995 WSC, LONDON, ENGLAND

  In 1995, the World SCRABBLE Championship returned to London. It was held at the beautiful Park Lane Hotel near Hyde Park, and the Brits went all out in regard to amenities and hospitality. There was even the first—and last—semiformal dinner dance in the history of tournament SCRABBLE! The word SURREAL came to mind as I rocked out on the dance floor with my thirteen-year-old daughter, Alex, an array of SCRABBLE experts from two dozen countries flailing around us.

  One of the more curious aspects of this event was the presence of rock star Robert Palmer, who had signed on as official greeter/ambassador. Palmer, a handsome, smooth, and affable guy, was best known to most of us as the star of the “Simply Irresistible” video. First aired in 1988, it was one of the most seminal rock videos in history. It featured Palmer, in a handsome suit and silver tie, backed up by half a dozen or so identical, gorgeous dark-haired models who stared blankly into the camera while allegedly playing various musical instruments.

  My wife and I spent a fair amount of time with Palmer and his girlfriend at lunch and during the off-hours. It became clear that the rocker had a tangential relationship with SCRABBLE at best and was there to have some fun and pick up some extra cash because some PR or marketing exec decided the event needed a celebrity to offset the staid image of SCRABBLE. It was refreshing to see Palmer be a good sport about it all and a real gentleman.