Can INSERT YOUR NAME HERE Come Out and Play?

All it takes is being open and silly with other beings and committing to the moment.

(South Bend, IN circa 1980) I’d just spent an eternity — at least five minutes — being made to put away my toys. Once free in the neighborhood, I sprinted to my friend’s house; he lived three doors down. I cut through backyards because it was faster than the sidewalk and waved at Grandpa Joe as I flew past. He looked up from trimming his boxwoods with amusement. Grandpa Joe wasn’t actually my grandpa, we neighborhood kids just called him that.

Arriving at my friend’s house out of breath, I tugged up my tube socks, wiped my sweaty forehead on my t-shirt sleeve, and banged on the aluminum door. Too excited to wait, I shouted through the screen, “Can Joey come out and play?”

Asking if a friend could come out to play. Do you remember it? It was the start of something good.

Play is still deeply part of me, though this week my knees are a wreck because of it — not in the hobbling around sense — but in a summertime, free-range kid with scraped up knees sort of way. A few days ago, I jumped into a soccer game with my 8th graders at the end-of-year picnic, scored a banger of a goal, and celebrated by sliding across the grass on my knees…as one does when one celebrates a victory over aging. Turns out the grass was less slippery than I estimated, but I’d do it again.

A day later, going downhill on my mountain bike I hopped a rock and got a little air. The hopping wasn’t a problem, but the landing was. My left knee took the brunt of the crash and I rode the rest of the loop with a red racing stripe oozing down my shin. Had fun though!

Play is the absolute best.

And when I say play I’m not really talking about “playing” sports where winning and losing matter so much. That’s “competing” more than “playing.” I’ve done plenty of competing, of course, and I love it for what it is — the thrill of defeat and the agony of victory [sic] and all that.

What I’m talking about when I say “play” are euphoric, rambunctious, co-created moments; vibing with other people in extraordinary, silly, and deliciously fun ways like…

Physical, pointless, and super fun — part football and part rugby — the game was named for its inventor and all-time winningest player, my friend Brian Collier. In a game of Collierball, the goal was to keep possession of a ball (any ball would do) for as long as possible. Scoring goals was secondary to running around with the ball and surviving the onslaught of violence. Fueled by testosterone and stupidity, the game left us spent, bruised, and laughing.

Thing is, it’s not a game anyone ever set out to play on purpose. How it usually happened was, we’d be tossing a ball around then we’d started chasing each other. Next thing you know, a game was on and we were like, “Whoa, not what I expected, but let’s do this!” and then there’d be three or four of us tackling the hell out of each other in clothes we hadn’t meant to ruin.

It’s also important to understand that Collierball is no longer played by anyone I know, and for good reason.

Bike Joust wasn’t played with lances, but that would have been something. Instead, mid-ride mountain bike ride, if we found a flat patch, my friends and I would bang into each other. The goal was to make your foes put a foot on the ground (or, better yet, knock them off their bike). If you put a foot down (or got knocked over) you were out. Last one riding won.

I think initially the idea was to get better at bike handling, as Bike Joust was a game of slow-mo skill, but it was also about laughing, cussing, and smashing into things. My friend Brian had seriously sharp elbows and was a frequent winner. I was more of a shoulder-check guy. My other friend Brian (he of Collierball fame) played with the grace of a rusty wrecking ball, while our friend Eric dodged in and out of the fray, relying on his savvy.

Joust had it all. We lost ourselves in the moment. We sprinted, fought for balance, and juked, never once thinking about the world waiting for us at the end of the ride. We won or lost and got over ourselves. Plus, we have stories. The one we still tell each other is about the time we played Bike Joust with P.H. Mullen.

A gang of us happened across P.H. out for a ride in the early 90’s. He was putting in some training; we were screwing around in a meadow playing Bike Joust.

I hadn’t seen him in a few years, so it was cool to catch up. When the chit chat died down we invited him into the game. He accepted and, for the next twenty minutes, we pummeled him. He went home with a busted bike, but to his credit he wasn’t too mad. He just waived and rode off on his wobbly back wheel toward greatness.

Friends, will you come out and play? Few things push back the weight of the world better than play. And the options are endless and accessible to everyone. You don’t have to play meathead games like my friends and I did. All it takes is being open and silly with other beings and committing to the moment. If it feels good, you’re doing it right. If you’re laughing or cussing, even better.

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