“Hot Hands” at Summer Camp

When I was a kid, “Hot Hands” was one of my favorite games. We often played while waiting in line at the dining hall during summer camp. I attended a wonderful camp each summer that was located on an island in the middle of Lake Erie. The dining hall faced the water, and we lined up before each meal outside the beautiful stone building where we ate. We passed the time before entering by playing this game of nerves. Today, most sane adults would probably prohibit children from playing such a game. But one of the benefits of growing up in less carefully supervised times was being able to play games likely considered a bit outside of today’s proscribed lines.

The game was rather simple. The two people playing would face one another. The more unlucky of the two would start by placing his or her hands together in a praying position with finger tips facing the opponent. The other person would place both hands with palms resting against the side of their legs. The one with palms against their legs would try to either smack one side of the top of the hands of the person holding parallel praying hands, or induce that person to flinch. If the person with praying hands flinched before the person with their palms against their legs moved to try and strike the praying hands, then a penalty strike was applied. Application of a penalty strike occurred by turning the praying hands sideways and swinging downward onto the top of one of the hands – a very painful penalty indeed. On the other hand, if the person trying to deliver a strike missed, the players traded positions. This continued back and forth until someone gave in due to pain.

During one particular summer when I was twelve years old, the best “Hot Hands” player by a long shot was a girl with nerves of steel and very quick reflexes. This camp was a church related camp, and most kids came in groups from a variety of places throughout Ohio and western Pennsylvania. This girl was from a different church, and the other kids from her church seemed to accord her a certain level of respect bordering on awe. They would stand in a small circle as she did her work. Methodically and with intense focus she dispatched her opponents. Throughout the week she continued her mastery of all the boys at the camp before each meal. It was an amazing display of complete determined dominance. She could take strikes on her hands without any hesitation. And she delivered her own strikes with a ferocity that none of us could match.

Towards the end of the week she had finally moved her way through most of the other athletic, aggressive boys and had gotten to one of my friends. He had determined not to yield to the pain of her vicious strikes delivered with mechanical precision. He refused to give in as she pounded his hands. It got to the point that he could barely hold them still even though she had long ago stopped trying to get him to flinch. As his hands quivered slightly, tears started to trickle out the sides of his eyes. His hands had begun to swell a bit from receiving near constant strikes. We finally had to intervene. He was angry at us…but inside I think he was relieved. Later, in high school and college he would become a very accomplished wrestler. But I think that girl was probably one of the toughest opponents he (or any of us) ever faced.