Southwest:
But if I drill down past the visceral experiences of pinball, what I truly loved was the feeling of testing my skill and guile against a particular machine, the human quest for mastery that afflicts the competitive and masochistic. To make a particularly tough shot under pressure, to save a ball that appeared headed for the drain with a strategic nudge or a brilliant bit of flipper work—these were feats that would draw gasps from fellow players. During hot streaks, I would become vulnerable to the audacious notion that I could somehow beat the machine by winning extra balls and free games.
It never worked, of course. In pinball, as in life, you can never escape the inevitability of death. Sooner or later, even the most accomplished player is going to suffer the indignity of watching his or her last ball drain.
What a fun read about pinball, a game I still love to play.
posts about cremation. Then pinball as a metaphor for death. You ok there Shawn?
Love pinball! I even have a dentist who collects and restores them. He used to have two in his waiting room for us to play while waiting. Unfortunately for us he turned the room into a lunchroom for his staff and we can no longer play.
LOL Naw. Completely coincidental.
Just checking…:P
I haven’t seen a pinball in Sydney in years.
Oops. I tell a lie. I remember I saw one in a bar at Christmas. It had an “Out of order” sign. Looks like it had been that way for a long time.
So, I should say I haven’t seen a working pinball in Sydney in years…
I’ve loved pinball since high school. Even the more modern boards that are so cluttered as to be barely readable.