the victors and meeting in the other semifinal. I was up against Dave Wiegand after he’d beaten Brett Smitheram 2–0. The semifinals were best-of-five, or first to win three.
I had played Dave a number of times elsewhere, not to mention the three matches earlier in the tournament. I got off to an inauspicious start by going second and challenging FARCY (a disease of horses), giving Wiegand an extra five points. With the aid of the blank, I soon got down bonuses of (L)UNARIST and VITAMINS to give me a decent lead. Eventually MOTLIE(S)T followed and I was in control. Not obscuring a cheap X play allowed Dave to catch up and put me under a bit of pressure, with the Z and blank unseen. It got a little bit edgy, but fortunately I drew the Z and that sealed the game.
One up, we both started the next game by exchanging. After a bit of a staircase pattern Wiegand hit me with IN(G)LOBED and MIELIES. The E in the latter gave me TAILGAT(E), but crucially Dave could cash in on the hook to grab the initiative. I gambled by setting up a juicy S hook, but it backfired and I was left needing an improbable bonus. It didn’t materialize. 1–1.
Not much to say about the third game. I couldn’t do a great deal and quickly found myself 2–1 down and again needing to win the next couple of games to stay in the World Championships. The fourth game was nip and tuck throughout. I’d got ahead with ERISTIC and Dave edged ahead with RELINES. I was twelve points behind when I played ORACLE, keeping an E back. I drew DFFST? and sat waiting for what felt like an eternity to see what Wiegand would play. Would he mess up the easy ST?FFED bonus? I wracked my brain in the meantime trying to find an alternative elsewhere just in case. I pondered over DESTAFF* and DAFF(I)EST. Finally Dave played and my easy seven-letter word was left untouched. I put ST?FFED down, declared the blank as A (I don’t know why, I’m well known for saying ‘get stuffed’), and breathed a huge sigh of relief. Two all.
The decider didn’t really get the game it deserved. I ran away with the game. It was anti-climactic, but I didn’t care. I was in the final and had the rest of the day off. In the other semi, Adam Logan had come from 2–0 down to force a decider, but Chris Lipe blitzed him in the fifth game, opening up with RECRUIT, REGENTAL, POLEWARD, and JUNK to be 314 after four moves and eventually winning 562–443. So the final was set: USA’s Chris Lipe versus Craig Beevers of England.
LUNARIST noun, a person who believes the moon influences weather
INGLOBED verb, to enclose as in a globe
MIELIES mielie, noun, an ear of maize
ERISTIC noun, a person who engages in debate
DAFFIEST daffy, adjective, another word for daft
REGENTAL adjective, relating to regent, a ruler or administrator
POLEWARD adjective, aimed at or towards a pole
Lots of handshakes and wishes of good luck ensued, then I walked the three miles back to the hostel. All the time I’d been away my partner Karen had been texting me with messages of support. As the event progressed, I was on the online-streamed game more often, so a few friends and family got to watch me live. I can’t begin to imagine how stressful that would be. I was grateful for all the remarks and attention, but also trying to keep level-headed. I tried not to let myself think about what it would mean to other people, as that would put on more pressure than just doing it for me. The next day I awoke to the sound of water dropping on the ground. It was raining and walking suddenly lost its appeal. I got all my best wetproof gear on and a change of clothes and ambled my way to the ExCeL. The weather never relented. I think my shoes were still soaking when I put them back on in the evening.
After a few bits and pieces Chris and I sat down at the smartboard – the Scrabble set with all the technology and cameras pointing at it. It would be our home for the next few hours. We were both wandering about in socks, slightly amazed at getting this far. I’d earlier made a comment about us being the two ‘weakest’ players of the eight quarterfinalists. In terms of rating I was the seventh best player and Lipe eighth. But it was all meaningless now. The first player to get three wins would be crowned World Champion. I won the draw to start and hoped that no more ING-S words would come up. A top player should really study those sorts of words specifically, so they know which ones take an S and which don’t, but I felt like I didn’t have a clue. I was mentally fatigued and just wanted easy stuff to show up. My first rack came AAMNOO? – aarrghh. My other weakness. MANOAO had been added only three years previously and I knew I was bad on the new words. I spent over five minutes trying to work out whether it was good or not. The game situation made it a much bigger error to play a phoney. So I chickened out and exchanged.
I got the bonus next turn, but more mistakes followed. I missed AUX(I)NIC for sixty-four. Unbeknownst to me, Chris had missed a few things too, but he moved ahead with LY(R)ICIST and I struggled with triple Is. Eventually my rack balanced out and I hastily played (U)NRINSED to go sixty-seven ahead. I kicked myself when it allowed Lipe to hit back immediately with SINTERE(D) onto the D, although in hindsight he would have got a bonus even if I’d played a more defensive option.
I was getting really low on time now. I knew my tile tracking was out but didn’t know by how much. I played off my only two vowels, knowing there were still six more to come with four tiles in the bag and seven on Lipe’s rack. I went eighteen points ahead and picked three tiles out. All consonants. I was sitting there with BFLNSTT with AADEOOUQ unseen. I thought for sure I’d blown it. He’s bound to have QU and score. Even if he doesn’t he can play out whilst I’m crippled with seven consonants.
Then (Z)OOEA went down. I’m still in this. I had less than a minute left. I knew QUA was out but wasn’t sure what the other letter on Chris’ rack was. I quickly played B(E)LTS through the E provided by ZOOEA and in the process blocked Lipe’s outplay. His last tile was a D. I just assumed he would block my only winning play of F(O)NT making (I)F, but I was willing him to go somewhere else. He put QUA down elsewhere and my heart skipped as I thought he was going to extend it to QUAR(E) or QUAT(E). I quickly threw F(O)NT down. Twenty-four and out. I was bewildered. I had won hadn’t I? How did that happen? Why didn’t my outplay get blocked? We confirmed scores, 403–389 in my favour.
MANOAO noun, a coniferous forest tree
AUXINIC adjective, relating to auxin, any of various plant hormones
SINTERED sinter, verb, to form lumps or masses by heating or pressure or both
ZOOEA noun, the larval stage of crabs
QUARE adjective, remarkable or strange
