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

by John D. Williams Jr

  The 1995 London World SCRABBLE Championship was ultimately won by Canadian David Boys. He defeated American Joel Sherman in the finals to collect the trophy and the seemingly random $11,000 first prize. The field had now grown from the initial nineteen countries to thirty-one. I liked the fact that the WSC had been won by American Peter Morris, Englishman Mark Nyman, and now Canadian David Boys. Only later did someone point out that Peter Morris was born in Manchester, England, and had Canadian citizenship as well.

  1997 WSC, WASHINGTON, DC

  We selected Washington, DC, for the 1997 World SCRABBLE Championships for all the obvious reasons. It is another great media town. It’s easy to get to. And we could rely on the diplomatic corps to add an even more prominent international theme to the competition.

  The Mayflower Hotel in the heart of the city was our chosen site. Like the Plaza Hotel before it, the Mayflower was gorgeous, historical, and prestigious. On our first visit to inspect the hotel, the Secret Service was all over the place in preparation for an event a few nights later that President Bill Clinton would be attending. I knew it was just a matter of time before someone asked me if we could arrange for the president to drop by the tournament. It had been reported numerous times in the press that the Clintons were big SCRABBLE fans.

  It was warm in Washington when the NSA staff arrived the day before the competition began. From the moment we landed we were consumed with the ballroom setting up, fielding press calls, assembling contestant materials and gifts, tracking down packages, tracing missing players, and more. Later, I went to bed early after dinner but was wide awake at 1:30 a.m. and had trouble going back to sleep. Restless, I decided to get dressed and go down to the lobby and out for a walk.

  The lobby was understandably empty, with the exception of one man who was in the process of checking in. He caught my attention both by his mere presence at that hour and by his appearance. He was tall and lean with deep tan skin and pale blue eyes, framed by a shock of silver hair. He wore a rumpled suit and had a large distressed-leather suitcase at his feet. It was held together by a piece of rope.

  Eavesdropping, I learned he had just arrived from the Middle East to compete in the World SCRABBLE Championship. I decided not to introduce myself quite yet and proceeded outside for a walk around the block. My head was spinning with gratitude for being so deeply and personally involved with SCRABBLE. That a simple game could have that kind of appeal for people all over the world was profound.

  The competition, as always, was intense and dazzling. The final, for the first time in the history of the event, would be an all-American affair. It featured “G.I. Joel” Sherman against fellow New Yorker Matt Graham.

  This was a matchup with built-in drama and personalities worthy of professional wrestling or a comic-book superhero showdown. Sherman is a sweet, self-effacing homebody. Graham, a stand-up comic, is brash, athletic, and intense. I liked both of them very much and considered them friends. Joel was a longtime expert, one of the few who’d ultimately win both a National and World SCRABBLE Championship. Matt was a well-known SCRABBLE gambler, looking for validation among the SCRABBLE elite by winning his first major title.

  It was an exciting final, with Joel prevailing. But for me, the interesting part came after it was all over. I learned that Matt—always the gambler—had approached Joel before the final and suggested a deal. The proposal was that they combine the first-prize money of $25,000 and the second-prize money of $10,000 and split the total right down the middle. I’m not sure what Matt’s motivation was—a sure thing? In some ways, it made sense for both of them. Matt had left his job writing for Saturday Night Live and lived simply in perhaps New York’s smallest apartment. He supported himself on a meager income from comedy gigs, writing, and help from friends.

  Joel’s financial situation was humble as well. He lived with his brother and father in the same house in the Bronx where he grew up. Various conditions kept him from being regularly employed, and he subsisted on a small inheritance and SCRABBLE winnings. Joel recalled later that he’d anticipated Matt’s scheme—but he rejected it. Matt could not have been completely surprised.

  1999 WSC, MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA

  For the 1999 World SCRABBLE Championship, we took things Down Under—to Melbourne, Australia. This was significant in several ways. For openers, it signaled that the sponsors, Hasbro and Mattel, were committed to making the event even more global. (Mattel had purchased Spear & Sons and the new international rights to SCRABBLE outside of North America.) Sure, London, New York, and Washington were great and necessary to get things started. But choosing Melbourne brought the international aspect to an entirely new level. It allowed all of us in the SCRABBLE community to dream of future competitions in India, Canada, Bermuda, Hong Kong—all former British colonies and emblematic of the vast reach of the English language.

  Clearly, the international scene was growing, albeit incrementally. As we saw it, our success was also reflective of the world’s increasing desire to assimilate English. I’d like to think that was true. But let’s face it; there are easier and more practical ways to learn English than by becoming an international SCRABBLE tournament player. Hell, half the words you learn would never even appear in everyday conversation. After all, when was the last time you heard a pal casually mention QAID (a Muslim leader, also spelled CAID), CWM (a deep-walled basin), or HAPKIDO (a Korean martial art)?

  I’d never been to Australia and was thrilled for the opportunity, as was my wife. She was photographing the event and sending constant updates to NSA webmaster John Chew in Toronto, who posted them. Thanks to John’s programming, we got over six million hits on the NSA website during the event.

  After a couple of days exploring Sydney, we made our way to Melbourne for the championship. Mattel’s Philip Nelkon, my international counterpart, had arranged a beautiful suite for us in the gorgeous Carlton Crest Hotel.

  Here we were, thousands of miles from New York, and the first thing we saw—and heard—when we arrived at the hotel was “G.I. Joel” Sherman playing the piano in the lobby. Nearby, several SCRABBLE games were under way; players from all over the world had reconnected, exchanged pleasantries, and then jumped right into playing. There was a good chance some of them had not even unpacked yet.

  As in previous years, the opening reception was a wondrous whirl of diverse accents, national dress, and SCRABBLE ability. Again, I was astonished that fully three-quarters of the field of ’98 didn’t have a chance in hell of winning the tournament and most would be thrilled to win just half their games. I thought, too, how the World SCRABBLE Championship was a mirror of the world at large. Once again the Western nationals were well financed, while the Africans had made extraordinary sacrifices just to be there.

  For example, one of Nigeria’s most prominent players would finish every tournament and pretty much beg fellow players and organizers for spare boards, tiles, and other equipment. Nigerians were rabid about SCRABBLE, but games were hard to come by, even for those who could afford them. Blessed with good fortune, both our players and the NSA gladly gave him all we could.

  One of the African champions once asked me if the National SCRABBLE Association could help him seek and obtain political asylum. While I’d become accustomed to pretty much anything crossing my desk over the years, this was a new one for me. A brief conversation with the State Department put a quick end to that endeavor.

  At the 1999 WSC, I received two more unusual gifts, from the two players from Romania. One is a small triangular silk pennant emblazoned with three multicolored SCRABBLE tiles—F, S, and R. Above the graphic is the proud copy FEDERATIA DE ROMANA DE SCRABBLE. It has hung in my office for nearly fifteen years. It was explained to me that the Romanian English SCRABBLE Association had approximately fourteen members.

  The other was a very good bottle of wine from, of all places, the Transylvanian region. Its label was rich scarlet, deep green, and bold gray and featured a leering portrait of Count Dracula. It was, of course, a dark, f
ull-bodied red wine.

  The 1999 World SCRABBLE Championship was won by longtime SCRABBLE expert Joel Wapnick, a music professor at McGill University in Montreal. With this well-earned victory, Joel joined the list of players to win both the National SCRABBLE Championship (1983) and the World SCRABBLE Championship. It was a long time coming for Joel, legendary for his word knowledge, and a group of us celebrated that evening miles away from home with a beachside sunset dinner at one of Melbourne’s better restaurants.

  2001 WSC, LAS VEGAS, NEVADA

  The 2001 World SCRABBLE Championship, held at the lavish Venetian Hotel in Las Vegas, would be my most memorable for a number of reasons. For openers, unbeknownst to me, it would be the last WSC we at the National SCRABBLE Association would ever organize, attend, and publicize. And in many ways, it will remain the most dramatic WSC in history, chiefly because of the timing. Over a year in advance, it had been scheduled for November 13, 2001—which ended up being just two months and two days after the 9/11 attacks that pretty much changed the world as we knew it.

  As one might expect, initially it was widely assumed that the tournament would be canceled after the attacks. The world was still cloaked in mourning, uncertainty, and fear. No one wanted to fly. No one—from everyday people to large corporations—wanted to spend money frivolously. And the idea of simply having fun or celebrating anything seemed impossible and almost heretical. For Americans of a certain age, it was evocative of Pearl Harbor or the Kennedy assassination, a watershed “End of the Innocence” event that sent us reeling into a collective emotional dark hole.

  Despite all the reservations about holding the World SCRABBLE Championship, it was decided we would proceed as planned. The opportunity to host a positive international event at this time was just too powerful to ignore. Sure, it was only a SCRABBLE tournament—we got that—but it was a start.

  Before 9/11, we had representatives from over thirty-five countries registered to play. When we contacted them all after 9/11, every single one renewed the commitment to attend! Also of sudden significance was the fact that we’d have players from Iraq, Israel, Pakistan, Qatar, and Saudi Arabia.

  However, we had made one critical error in our planning. As with any big event, we had checked the calendar for conflicts with Thanksgiving, Christmas, the Jewish holidays, the Olympics, elections, and everything else we could think of—except for Ramadan, the most holy of Muslim holidays. The way our schedule stood, we’d be forcing the Muslim players to compete on a day when they should be fasting and praying.

  This oversight was brought to my attention in a registered letter from the president of the Pakistan SCRABBLE Association. Obviously, the timing could not have been worse. I had no excuse other than that I was—like most other Americans—embarrassingly ignorant about both the Arab world and Muslims. About all I knew was that not all Muslims were Arabs and vice versa. The Pakistani SCRABBLE executive was very gracious in excusing my oversight. I assured him it would never happen again.

  It goes without saying that security was a huge consideration. We’d had some experience with security issues over the years. As I mentioned, I received a death threat from a zealous word lover who was disappointed that words were removed from the SCRABBLE dictionary. A woman player had secured an order of protection against a SCRABBLE-playing male stalker. Then there were the random temper tantrums when players had to be escorted off the playing floor to calm down.

  But the 2001 WSC security concerns were a little different. For one thing, we were in Las Vegas. While the city is a fun place for most of us, religious fanatics of all persuasions consider Vegas pretty much Satan’s hometown. What better place to make some big politico-religious statement? Also, the fact that people from nearly three dozen countries were being “forced” to play the game in English—viewed by some as the language of Oppressors—might rub certain fringe thinkers the wrong way. Looking back, I realize the craziness of the time made us look at things in a way we’d never imagined. We still do.

  Our fears were put to rest at pre-event meetings, when we were reminded that a top Las Vegas hotel probably has security as good as the White House. So by the time we arrived at the Venetian we were very comfortable, and it was our job to make our guests feel the same.

  Another surprise awaited us as we checked in to the hotel. It was cowboys—hundreds and hundreds of cowboys. While scheduling the 2001 WSC, we’d somehow failed to discover that Las Vegas has a gigantic annual rodeo. The extravaganza is attended by tens of thousands of people—almost every one of them staying at the Venetian Hotel, apparently.

  The entire championship, one couldn’t walk anywhere around the hotel without being surrounded by scores of guys wearing cowboy hats. This was especially amusing to the foreign SCRABBLE competitors. For many of them, this was their first trip to America—so seeing everyone walking around in cowboy hats confirmed their preconceived image of Americans. All that was missing was guns.

  We opened the tournament with a welcoming reception with a total of eighty-eight players from thirty-five countries participating. Some of the players, most playing in their second or even third language, impressively came from these exotic destinations: Bahrain, Cameroon, Gibraltar, Guyana, India, Israel, Kenya, Kurdistan-Iraq, Malaysia, Malta, Oman, Philippines, Qatar, Saudi Arabia, Singapore, South Africa, Sri Lanka, Tanzania, Trinidad and Tobago, and Zambia.

  The mood was a mix of cautious excitement, anticipation, and reflection. As players and guests arrived, the NSA staff formed a reception line at the entrance to the room. There were series of heartfelt hugs from strangers and a lot of teary-eyed conversations and reunions. It goes without saying that 9/11 was on everyone’s mind, and I knew I had to address the topic in my opening remarks.

  I’d learned early in my SCRABBLE career that I should always keep my remarks brief, but they were even shorter than anticipated. That’s because the sound system wasn’t working, despite every effort to fix it. Yet I needed to be heard by three hundred people, many of whom were still talking among themselves. Finally, I pulled a chair up to the center of the room and stood on it. My wife, Jane, who has one of the strongest, most shrill New York “taxi” whistles around, silenced the room with one piercing screech.

  The large room fell silent. On behalf of the NSA and Hasbro, I thanked all the players for their sacrifice and commitment, especially given the turbulence of the times. I reminded them that although our group was small in number, we represented the diversity and good in the world and what can happen when peoples work together. That was it. I jumped off the chair and faded into the crowd. The first person to approach me was my seventy-eight-year-old father, who was attending his first—and, sadly, last—SCRABBLE tournament. A former Nazi prisoner of war for three and a half years in World War II—at the notorious Stalag 17 POW camp—he was no stranger to international tension. “Nice job,” he said. My father was a guy who dispensed compliments at about five per lifetime, so it meant a lot to me.

  The 2001 WSC was arguably one of the most amazing in the history of the event. Fittingly, since it was to be the last ever held on North American soil, the Americans and Canadians more than made their presence felt. They ended up taking seven of the top ten places, including the final, which pitted defending champ Joel Wapnick, a Canadian, against Chicago’s Brian Cappelletto.

  A little background on Brian. As I write this, he has permanently retired from tournament play, which is a huge loss for the game. Brian is a brilliant player, a really good sport, and a genuinely nice guy. He was the first of just a handful of tournament SCRABBLE “prodigies.”

  Cap—as he’s called—first got everyone’s attention at sixteen years old, when he began to beat established SCRABBLE masters on a regular basis. One of the very first experts to realize Brian’s potential was the legendary SCRABBLE player, promoter, and author Mike Baron, from New Mexico. Mike is well-known for authoring The SCRABBLE Wordbook, the first comprehensive must-have volume for all tournament SCRABBLE players. It essentially pres
ents all two- to eight-letter words in various lists and categories that make them easier to study and memorize.

  Asked to recall the early days when Brian Cappelletto first came on the scene, Mike had this to say: “I had the pleasure of meeting Brian in his first tournament, in October 1985. He had just turned sixteen, and it was my thirty-sixth birthday. I thought I’d have an easy win. But Brian played aggressively, in a brash style the likes of which I’d never seen before, playing into the triple-word columns, exposing multiple hook spots, playing words no newcomer to the game had a right to know. Only by a lure and a challenged word (HEPS) was I able to eke out a 414–407 victory in our first match.”

  Always putting the good of the game ahead of his personal goals, Baron promptly sent the young Cappelletto some of his valuable word lists for study. “It was,” noted Baron wryly, “ammunition he would soon use against me time and again.”

  Like many prodigies in various endeavors, Brian became a victim of his own potential. Many players assumed that he’d win a national championship sooner rather than later—possibly in his teens. Well, that didn’t happen. It wasn’t because Brian didn’t have the talent, skill, and will to win. It was, many observers felt, because he hadn’t reached the requisite level of maturity yet.

  After thirty years of observing the best SCRABBLE players in the world, I’ve come to believe that the spiritual/emotional component is an absolute key to being a champion. There are many players who have all or most of the SCRABBLE dictionary memorized. An equal number can anagram a ten-letter word in a nanosecond. Then there are others whose strategic thinking is almost flawless. Yet none of them will ever become a World or National Champion, because they can’t quite achieve the level of calmness and maturity a champion needs.

  Most SCRABBLE champions do not get overly excited when they win a game, nor do they punch holes in a wall when they lose. They do not fret about their current standing in a tournament or masochistically replay bad moves from an earlier game. They do not look ahead to upcoming games. Instead, they keep their focus in the game they are playing. Sure, anyone can draw bad tiles, but having the wrong mental approach—or none at all—is one of the few ways a player can beat him or herself. Besides carrying a bad loss into the next game, this might include being too cavalier about the time clock, trying too hard to psych out your opponent, or worrying about how your rivals are doing in the standings.