This past week, I cracked open Backgammon Games and Strategies, which we’ve had for a few years now, to learn how to play Plakoto.

It bears saying here that I have been playing Backgammon since I was a small child, and it’s always been one of my favorite games. Perhaps it’s one of my favorites because I usually win; it has certainly been suggested before that I most enjoy those games that I consistently win (and most dislike those which I consistently lose). That is, I used to usually win. Nearly ten years ago, at the end of my first year of graduate school, a Turkish friend stayed at my apartment for a couple of weeks. During the first part of his stay, when the semester had ended but our summer obligations had not yet begun, we played Backgammon. He taught me a variation similar to Plakoto, which also involved taking pieces out of play by pinning them in place rather than bumping them back to the starting position.

During the few days, we played nearly 100 games. I think I — maybe — won one. I am quite certain that however many I won, they were entirely at the whim of my friend’s largesse. I suspect that he thought letting me win might end the compulsion; it must have been like playing against a small child for him. Despite being terribly competitive, I didn’t mind losing. There was a certain level of hilarity in our playing; I, who had always been so good at this game, was getting tromped, over and over, by my friend, who seemed to not even be paying very close attention to what we were doing. As soon as he pinned a single piece, the game would be certain to be over. It was some of the most fun I had in graduate school, those few days.

It was partly the memory of these days that led me back to Backgammon. We hardly play anymore, finding the basic variation to be a little dull. Plakoto, advertised by the Tzannes brothers as ‘King of Backgammon,’ where ‘the excitement and tension are superb’ seemed just the thing. Moreover, in reading over the instructions for Hit (Portes), we discovered the following illuminating section:

An incorrect move must be rectified only if the opponent notices it. This, of course, encourages cheating. In the Middle East, cheating in backgammon is not even considered dishonorable. Our advice is to always watch the opponent’s moves very carefully.

They then go on to list the most common ways of cheating:

1. To play the total throw using a single piece, when it is not possible to do so because the opponent has made points (doors) on both positions of the numbers of the dice…. 2. To remove one or more of one’s pieces while the opponent is engrossed in execution of his own moves. Our advice is to periodically add the number of pieces of the opponent to insure [sic] that they always total fifteen during the game, and watch him very carefully when he is engaged in bearing them off. 3. If the board is made of cardboard or plywood, the dice have a tendency to stick…. For this reason, you must insist that the dice be thrown with the opponents’ hands completely off the board.

The section concluded with this gem:

Another acceptable practice, when you feel the throw is suspicious, is to ‘break up’ the throw. This is done by moving your hands inside the board and touching the dice before they have rested on their sides. A player has the right to ‘break up’ the opponent’s throw up to three times on a given throw.

Forget taking candy from a baby; if my friend had been inclined to use any of these strategies all those years ago, beating me would have been like giving candy to a baby.

This past week, we cracked ourselves up by removing our pieces from the board, breaking up the throws, and bumping our pieces down the board while the other’s head was turned. All of which were highly entertaining, I have to say. Well, as long as I was winning.