The day my pogs went missing was a horrible day indeed.
The game can be played by two or more players. Each has their own collection of pogs and a slammer (a heavier game piece).
Do you remember pogs? They were wonderful. Round, flat, cardboard. Could there be a better adjective grouping? No there could not. You have heard of pool sharks…yes? Well, I was a pog shark. My batman slammer was un-beatable. I spent most recess sessions in the dreary beige hallway of my middle school making 6th grade boys cry with my "mad pogskills", so to speak.
Before the game, players decide whether to play 'for keeps', or not. 'For keeps' implies that the players keep the POGs that they win, and forfeit those that have been won by other players.
I saved my ill earned allowance every week in hopes of eventually purchasing the king of all pogs. It was adorned with glitters, stars and smack dab in the middle…a menacing cross. God was now on my side, in my quest for pogdominance.
The players each contribute an equal number of POGs to build a stack with the pieces facing down, which will be used during the game.
The players take turns throwing their slammer (also called a 'kini') down onto the top of the stack, causing it to spring up and the POGs to scatter.
In all actuality, my parents were very concerned with my pogobsession. They were worried for my new lack of mercy, and tendency to speak in third person. Phrases like, "Jenni played some mean pog matches today" or "Jenni's gonna bring her a-game at recess tomorrow" were flying freely from my mouth…confusing my mother and causing my father to speak with me about the dangerous effects of gambling.
Each player keeps any POGs that land 'face up' after their throw.
After each throw, the POGs which have landed 'face down' are then re-stacked for the next player.
My lime green pog holder sat in the bottom shelf of my desk at all times. Standing nearly 10inches in height, it was one of the more impressive collections in my class. As I did my math workbooks (or attempted to do math) I would let one arm hang down defensively near the green tube of glory, in case one of my table group friends should become sneaky.
When no POGs remain in the stack, the player with the most POGs is the 'winner'.
So when my pogs disappeared one day, my rage could not be contained. I had to seek vengeance. Somebody must be held responsible. There had to be justice!! And so I promptly blamed Nick Black. I stared down at him, trying to resist the urge insult his mother, or tell Mrs. Wood he cheated on tests (which he did). In the end, I could not decide on a worthy punishment. And so my anger would simmer for years and years.
All players keep the POGs which they have collected (if playing for keeps), or redistribute them to their original owners.
Until last week, that is. My little brother confessed, quite randomly to taking my pogs out of my back pack and selling them to his friend for candy money. "It was a business deal" said my brother, with a cocky smirk on his face. I had always believed such thievery to be a crime of passion. But apparently, it was a pre-meditated not to
After 13 years I have finally found that the greatest offense of my life was inflicted upon me, not by 80lb Nick Black….but by my filthy little brother. It was all in the family.
Se La Vie. Or whatever. I figure I went out at the top of my game.
There are also street rules for those who still play, such as skipping your turn to try and reflip an opponent's POGs into the upright position, and combo moves (catching and re-throwing the slammer). These rules are not used in sanctioned competitions.
*text in red taken from Wikipedia* see, it is good for something