We come now in this series to what is perhaps one of
the simpler childhood games (and considering the lack of complexity of most of
the games we played, that truly is an outstanding/crap achievement). We’re here
to take a look at the game of tag, sometimes known as tig, depending on where
you are from. We actually called it tig, and thought tag was a silly name for
the game.
As mentioned in the first sentence it’s a simple
game, you simply run after someone and hit them. Hey presto, just like that, they are “it”.
But for all its simpleness it’s a game that has many
variations, all dependent on where you choose to play. There was basic tig,
ball tig, off ground tig, sit down tig, statue tig, team tig and many others as
ridiculous as those mentioned. Whichever of the variations you played had its
own rules; ball tig you could only tig someone by hitting them with a ball, sit
down tig you couldn’t be tigged if you were sat down and so on. The one basic
rule common to all games, after you had tigged someone they couldn’t turn
around and tig you straight back, that rule was inviolate and when it was
broken war was declared and the UN were called.
Just took a quick break here and had a look at
Wikipedia, and fuck me there’s more varieties than even I thought.
Because we used to have a half decent park near
where I lived (the council have since pulled it down, bastards), our favourite
version of the game was off ground tig. The kid who was “it” would chase
everyone else around, obviously, the game wouldn’t be quite as much fun if the
chaser didn’t do any actual chasing. “It” was not allowed on any of the parks
equipment, however those who were not “it” could climb on the swing, slide or
roundabout for anything up to 30 seconds at a time. Once they were off the
ground as it were they were safe until their 30 seconds was up.
What it felt like when "It" was after you!
Theoretically a simple game of tig could last for
years, because the game could not ever be fucking won. Thankfully most of us
aren’t stupid enough to run around a small area yelling “tig, you’re it” and
giggling like asylum inmates for years at a time.
I guess though that some of
us still love the game and wish to play it, the popularity of the Facebook
poke-wars attests to this. I’ve even been told that there’s a sexual variation
on the game of tig, though as of yet I haven’t had the chance to experience it
and so prove it exists.
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