Backgammon Today

Dubitable ‘Crawford Rule’ Has No Place in Tournament Play
By Simon Northcote-Green

From time to time, since my sweep of the Interlaken games, I am approached by fans and foes alike who would have my opinions of the so-called ‘Crawford Rule’. This, of course, is the controversial tenet which forbids use of the doubling cube for the first game after one player has reached a score exactly one point less than the overall match score. To all my inquisitors I tell the same thing: the George Crawford I know couldn’t tell a pip from a blot, much less enough about doubling that a hastily adopted rule might bear his moniker.

A recent game may help to illustrate my point:

It was in tournament play at Cape Town that two-time Highlands finalist Roderick ‘Roddy’ Macintosh found himself in a situation that made him feel, as he put it over drinks that evening, ‘awfy peely-wally.’ The strapping lad was nearing the bearoff phase of his second game, versus hirsute software entrepreneur Rajen Parekh, during their final match of the tournament. While the finely preened Parekh — whose major contribution to the world of table sports has been the introduction of so-called player ‘signup bonuses’ to his armada of off-shore Internet gambling sites — was left scattered across the board (including two checkers in his opponent’s house), Macintosh was in a position more suited to his humble-yet-strong nature: yet one chip on his outer board, at the 18th point; a prime of four points blocking Parekh’s stragglers, and a roll of 3-4 to bring him safely home. And I’d bet on Lord Macaulay’s grave that the young Scot might have even afforded a trip to the bar, if the Bengalese naybob had found the strength to send him there!

Naturally, Macintosh reached – as would you, Reader, or I — for the doubling cube. It was at this point that his opponent stood and called for the judge to apply the aforementioned C. Rule. Putting aside the abrupt, childish manner in which the call was sputtered – which will warrant another article altogether, on more fundamental matters of gameroom etiquette – that such a specious edict was even contemplated on such a floor as the Filters Cup was naturally enough to incite laughter from as far back as the ladies’ trough! It took some time and effort to quiet them, of course, but no sooner than that fire was doused did the ruling judge effect the weekend’s truest conflagration, with his utterly unforeseeable accession to the slinky lemur’s demand! (I use this appellation with some good will, as it is a family rumor that my paternal grandfather was once, for a few hours at Hertford, married to a small mammal of prosimian descent. The petting zoo at a visiting carnival had evidently stoked the naughty boys’ imaginations.)

Yes, Reader, not only was the C. Rule invoked during tournament play, but its petition was granted with no less than a smile from the judge. That is to say nothing, by the by, of an ignoble display of partisanship from another in the press pool, who was later to again intercede himself, only with quite more violence. But I am getting ahead of myself – For now, it should suffice to say that Macintosh’s nerves were sufficiently rattled that the young Scot was barely able to stave off his supercilious foe. When it became clear, during the early stages of the next game, that the abominable denial of his use of the cube would likely cost him the tournament, Macintosh became visibly rised, jaw tight, brow glossy. I think it no exaggeration to describe the arena as altogether aroused by the expectancy of blows to come – Surely the suspense brought out the mustard in this reporter, with no ruth at all!

The ensuing, accidental upset of the table, and the concomitant spillage of checkers to the floor, has been widely reported. I have but one addendum: The professed ‘lip-reader’ employed by our competition has attributed to Parekh, in the moment before the incident in question, the words, “Your nervous perspiring has caused the surface of the board to become moist and unstable, making checker placement difficult.” Such a harmless interpretation would serve his camp indeed well. This reporter, however, has it on good authority that the Indian’s true words were not as described above, but were, in fact, “Haud yer wheest, ye fanny batter, ‘ere I goon tae shag yer sister’s mankae coont.” I will not reveal my source, other than to identify him as within earshot.

Alas, I am obliged to withhold the most delicious of specifics about my time in Cape Town. My solicitor recommends that I save the particulars about what occurred post-match for a later column, or, depending on the outcome of litigation, book. I am happy to report, though, that the swelling has subsided, and I am back on my feet! Roddy Macintosh’s hands were well and fortunately insured, and Lloyd’s of London has generously funded his full convalescence at the Wimbledon YMCA. I hope to soon muster up some supervisory faculty in this regard, and to deliver him home for the Hogmanay festivities the boy so richly deserves. Further news of his progress will be furnished as the editor sees fit.

In short, I think it clear that such a capricious imperative as the C. Rule has no place in the athletic of backgammon, especially beyond spittle-distance from the sodden pubs where it first gained currency. Leave it for the blockheads and muttonbrains, since they are without hope anyway!