The literal translation of "mahjongg" is "sparrow". One translation is "sparrow tail," meaning that winning is as difficult as catching a sparrow by the tail. Another interpretation is "chattering sparrows," associated with the sound of tiles colliding on the table. The language of the game can also be likened to twittering birds. Subtle variations in nomenclature reflect a dialect of playing style. Take note:
Much like spring robins engaged in nest building, players during passing chirp the mahjongg lament:
"Oy"
"This isn't a hand, it's a foot"
"What to do, what to do..."
"This is too beautiful to pass.."
"Are there jokers in this set?"
"Last Rites"
"If only I had two that went together..."
Occasionally the hostility of blue jays is expressed during the play; e.g.,
"Two crap"
"Seven bums"
"Six dot to go with the three other ones I threw"
"I HATE this game"
"I haven't picked one tile"
Like a baby bird being nudged out of the nest, a distracted player is told to pay attention.
"Curtsy, Nancy"
"Your wall, Nancy"
"Nancy's wall"
"Push, Nancy"
"Nancy, you're out"
or just
"Nancy" (accompanied by a forward thrust of the chin)
The pecking order comes to the fore when calling for a tile. Think pigeons running for bread in the park.
"Can I call that 4 dot?"
"I think I want that"
"Wait - um - OK"
"Call it"
"Take"
"Gimme"
"Mine"
And the glorious moment when it all comes together and the winner gets their peacock moment:
"Made it"
"Picked"
"That's it"
"Mahj!"
"Mahjongg"
(Silent exposure of hand on rack with triumphant look)
"Finally!"
"I don't believe it!"
"Is!"
Then the autopsy; the whining over carcasses of hands that might have been.
"But look at MY hand..."
"I was set!"
"Do you know how long I've been waiting?"
"I was going for jokerless!"
Time to fly away now - return the ashes of your hand into the swirling mix to begin again fresh and new, like spring.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
The Pie's the limit.
I was a little late to the game on Friday and as soon as I walked in the door I was greeted with, "We're playing $10 pie and we doubled the card. Is that all right with you?" I'm a good sport, so I dug another $3 out of my bag and proceeded to play high-stakes mahjongg. Now, despite my prattling on about being a gunslinger mahjongg maverick, the truth is I've only played once in an unlimited pie game, played a $5 pie for years and only recently upped it to $7. $10 is a little rich for my blood, and double the card! Well, let me tell you, it changed the whole tenor of the game.
The amount of pie varies from group to group. It refers to the total amount of money that can be wagered in a game. Each player brings their share of the pie to the table, usually in a decorative, fetishistic mahjongg purse. For many years I used my aunt Sally's flowered change purse until it rotted away. Now I use a tiny pink Asian snap-top stuffed with dimes and quarters. It won't hold $10, unless it's two fives.
In a game with a $10 pie with five players there's a constant of $50 floating from player to player. In a game with a $3 pie, it's a constant $15. Hmm...maybe they should call it "pi," and make it $3.14159265.
If you didn't notice, I used a word that hovers above the periphery of a modern American mahjongg game, but is seldom spoken aloud. The word was "wager," as in gambling - the big G. Are we gambling when we play mahjongg? Some players say "yes, yes, yes!" with great enthusiam as they double the card and blow the lid off the pie. Others say "no, no, no" we play for fun, for amusement, the money has nothing to do with it.
For myself, I found the $10 pie double the card slightly out of my comfort zone. I did win $1, mostly from making a couple of good bets since I didn't make too many mahjonggs. But while I do like to play for some kind of reward other than just winning, the raised stakes made me feel as though I was inching closer to the Maginot line between the friendly, sociable game and the Chinese mahjongg parlor where I could lose my house in five minutes. I expect the police have better things to do than to arrest the type of mahjongg players we are, but I need to examine my boundaries and be true to my non-gambling nature. Would I play in that kind of game again? Well, yes, if it weren't my regular game. There's no moral high horse here - just my own internal compass. For me the $7 pie works best. It's high enough to make it rewarding and low enough to meet my definition of "nominal sum," which appears in many state statutes. Maybe if I lived in Vegas, it would be different.
So I tip my hat to the high rollers that spice up their game with a big pot, but it just isn't me. I'm the one that brings $20 to the casino, plays the nickle slots and when my $20 is gone (in about 30 seconds) I look for free food. Vive la difference! And congrats to you, Arlene, for being the first one in our group to get the Big Hand this year - I was honored to pay you double.
The amount of pie varies from group to group. It refers to the total amount of money that can be wagered in a game. Each player brings their share of the pie to the table, usually in a decorative, fetishistic mahjongg purse. For many years I used my aunt Sally's flowered change purse until it rotted away. Now I use a tiny pink Asian snap-top stuffed with dimes and quarters. It won't hold $10, unless it's two fives.
In a game with a $10 pie with five players there's a constant of $50 floating from player to player. In a game with a $3 pie, it's a constant $15. Hmm...maybe they should call it "pi," and make it $3.14159265.
If you didn't notice, I used a word that hovers above the periphery of a modern American mahjongg game, but is seldom spoken aloud. The word was "wager," as in gambling - the big G. Are we gambling when we play mahjongg? Some players say "yes, yes, yes!" with great enthusiam as they double the card and blow the lid off the pie. Others say "no, no, no" we play for fun, for amusement, the money has nothing to do with it.
For myself, I found the $10 pie double the card slightly out of my comfort zone. I did win $1, mostly from making a couple of good bets since I didn't make too many mahjonggs. But while I do like to play for some kind of reward other than just winning, the raised stakes made me feel as though I was inching closer to the Maginot line between the friendly, sociable game and the Chinese mahjongg parlor where I could lose my house in five minutes. I expect the police have better things to do than to arrest the type of mahjongg players we are, but I need to examine my boundaries and be true to my non-gambling nature. Would I play in that kind of game again? Well, yes, if it weren't my regular game. There's no moral high horse here - just my own internal compass. For me the $7 pie works best. It's high enough to make it rewarding and low enough to meet my definition of "nominal sum," which appears in many state statutes. Maybe if I lived in Vegas, it would be different.
So I tip my hat to the high rollers that spice up their game with a big pot, but it just isn't me. I'm the one that brings $20 to the casino, plays the nickle slots and when my $20 is gone (in about 30 seconds) I look for free food. Vive la difference! And congrats to you, Arlene, for being the first one in our group to get the Big Hand this year - I was honored to pay you double.
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