I am never happier than when I’m playing the ancient and noble game of Go — sitting in an armchair opposite an old friend, each of us drinking a very fine scotch, discussing philosophy and mathematics and poring over an intricate array of dots that mark out strategies stretching seven or eight moves ahead, our playing styles revealing the very fundamentals of our character — our intellectual strengths and our fatal flaws.
Of course, there are one or two problems. I know little about philosophy and less about mathematics. I can’t really tell one whisky from another. I’ve been in the country long enough to make a few good friends, but I don’t have any old ones. I don’t know anyone who plays the game. I don’t even really know how to play the game all that well myself… and I don’t own a board.
The armchairs, however, are sorted. There were a couple here in the flat when we moved in. They’re not leather, but they do have the shape I was after.
So I’m learning to play. It’s part of a romantic notion that given enough time, effort and expensive props, I could be cultured, intellectual, and possess surprising layers that combine to make me interesting — possibly enigmatic. And if I can do it without the time and effort, so much the better.
I have the counters: glass beads. Black ones and white ones. I also have a blue plastic mat that unscrunches to reveal the correct 19 x 19 square board pattern. But so far, it’s a little unsatisfying.
There are websites that teach the basic rules, and online gaming platforms that let you play against other novices, or sit and watch the games of grand masters. That’s all well and good. But what I’m looking for is the high quality wooden board, the glass of scotch and the discussion of string theory — the devastating battle of wills playing itself out on the board merely a metaphor for the grander themes brought out in the meeting of minds. I’ll also be wearing a very stylish suit. I should get one of those too.
For now, though, I’m going to try and convince my existing friends, rather than my imaginary James Bond-y ones, to learn to play the game with me.
Absolute novice required: must be willing to sit around a table at the pub and pretend it’s my antiquarian library, drink a pint of lager and pretend we’re sipping single malt, talk about records we like and pretend we’re debating Wittgenstein, and make stupid mistakes on the board while pretending we are 7th Dan masters.
It won’t make us sophisticated, enigmatic or deep — but it could be fun.
There’s a great article about Go on Kuro5hin that starts: “There is one board game that stands above all others. The most beautiful, most ancient, most strategic, most subtle. The king of games. A game which teaches as much as it entertains, whose enthusiasts number tens of millions and which has often been compared to life itself…”