I started off by asking about his experience as a Harriton gym tryer. He told me that dodgeball was his favorite sport, though he always enjoyed a good game of Tchoukball. “Mr. Papsin was my role model, so since 6th grade I wanted to put in as much effort as I could in positively everything I did.”

However, his efforts became a disadvantage and it backfired on him in 2006 in his first office position. “So, I was in the office,” he said, “and I saw one of my coworkers handing a cup of coffee to the boss. Something came over me; I don’t know what it was, but I before I knew it, the coffee was on the ground and I was shouting “INTERCEPTION!”

I asked what had sparked this incident, and he responded, “I don’t know! I just had this sensation sweep over me. It was like a euphoria that drove me to display my athletic talents in an inappropriate time and place. I saw our boss about to get the coffee and I just thought, I must stop this or we’ll lose the game! I don’t even know what game we were going to lose; I just knew it was important!” Luckily, his boss was a former gym tryer as well and understood the situation.

However, his hyper competitive spirit broke through in an unfortunate way a few months later.
He explained, “I was getting ready for bed a few weeks ago when my wife jokingly threw a pillow at me because she wanted to sleep and I was being slow. Soon, a small joking pillow fight ensued. Of course it was all meant to be fun, and no harm was meant. I went to hit her again but this time there was no joke. She now has a concussion. Of course I had no intention of hurting her, it was all cute and flirty, until I got into the heat of the moment. I just felt like it was becoming a competition and if I didn’t go hard I would have to go home.”
He continued, “I feel like I need to win at everything! Even things I’m not supposed to win at! Like Jumping or Waving! And Yelling! I need to WIN AT YELLING.”
“But don’t you think that’s irrational?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” he responded, “It seems rational to me. Here’s another example. So a few years ago I started working for a pharmaceutical company as a researcher. I was working on a project I’ve been involved with for a while and I noticed my co-worker Jim was taking pipettes from the wrong box. His box was on the other side of the room, and I knew it didn’t make much of a difference, but rules were rules.”

I asked how this made him feel. He replied, “I felt like he was getting an unfair advantage because I was following the rules and getting pipettes from the other side of the room. So I told him so. He told me to ‘Chill Out.’ That snapped something in me, and I just lost it. I felt like I was being reasonable, following the rules, keeping everything fair. Then he told ME to chill, and it just made me so furious that someone could not care about the rules like I do.”

He concluded the interview saying, “I love competition. It drives me to do better, and so it gets out of hand sometimes. So what? Still… I hope my wife will talk to me again.”

As I’ve matriculated up the rungs of English education I started to learn more about the literary features a writer incorporates into their work. English became about how writers use metaphors, or allusions to create meaning. I started to believe very firmly that a writer does certain things on purpose. That everything is done for a reason.

This was a principle I found applied to my own writing. I predominantly write poetry. For me writing a poem is a slow, cogitated process. I always think before using alliteration, or deciding the order in which the words appear in a stanza. I decide if I want my poem to rhyme. When writing poetry, words do not magically appear on the page, beautifully construed. I have to work to try to get them there. Often it doesn’t work.

Last spring I went to go see one of my favorite authors, Jhumpa Lahiri, speak at Bryn Mawr College. I have read everything Lahiri has published. I love her full descriptions of tiny aspects of life. Her characters have habits and thoughts and quirks so small and so natural that it seems as if they have no option but to be alive. At one point during the evening Lahiri took questions from the audience. One reader asked her why most of her protagonists were male. Another asked her about the symbolism of water and the ocean in her novels. To every one of these (what I thought to be very valid and intriguing questions) Lahiri had a noncommittal answer. She responded that she didn’t really know what water symbolized, she just often felt inspired to include it in her works. She seemed to insinuate that she simply wrote, and the greatness of her writing merely emerged organically.

I was greatly affronted by this explanation. I felt it almost minimized the incredible work that writers put into their writing; it undermined the whole difficulty of the process. The Great Gatsby would not be The Great Gatsby if not for Fitzgerald’s consistently delicate descriptions of Daisy. Descriptions that were written that way for a reason.

But then I started to think about inspiration. Because inspiration does exist. And it would be foolish of me to posit that I know where everything I have put on paper has come from. Sometimes a beautiful phrase will simply appear in my head. Or a story idea will emerge from my pillow as I sleep. And I know for a fact my best writing comes—inexplicably–when it is about to rain.

Creative writing does require thinking and planning. But it is still creative. The inspiration incites writing, and provides spots of brilliance along the way. However one also has to be able to craft one’s own brilliance, and tie it to whatever the gods of inspiration have bestown.

(Merry Christmas, everyone!)

Analysis of the BCS’s motives is fairly pointless after well over half a decade run by the system, but that doesn’t stop Sports Illustrated or ESPN from running ten page-long features on the matter titled “Breaking: BCS is Fueled by Money.” Of course it’s about the money. It always has been about the money, and, as long as college football refuses to make the switch, always will be about the money. If you haven’t realized that by now, you are either not very familiar with collegiate sports or you’re an SEC fan. The real problem plaguing the college football world is not the fact that the BCS is run by corrupt businessmen, it’s the mentality of the fans now that they’ve discovered that fact. Many become complacent when faced with the truth, assuming a mindset along the lines of “Well, if lots of guys in suits have large stakes in the BCS then there’s no real hope for a playoff and we should all stop thinking about it.” Not so much.

My point is, analysts and writers all over the country are throwing the same anti-BCS facts at the wall (“The little guys have no shot!” “ The guys at the top will never change their minds!” “No money is going to the schools!” “No one cares about the Famous Idaho Potato Bowl!”) and hoping something sticks, which is really trite and just plain irritating at this point. That does not, however, make it acceptable to just sit on the couch watching another lackluster BCS game and try to come to terms with the fact that nothing is going to change. Well, the sitting on the couch part is perfectly fine, but the latter part is not—mainly because things are going to change. Eventually.

The main argument of BCS proponents who aren’t personally receiving money from the system is that the implantation of a playoff would reduce the drama of the regular season. That’s true, to an extent—part of the charm of college football is that one slip-up in a twelve-game schedule is enough to eliminate a team from title contention. It’s exciting, yes, and certainly adds an intense, playoff-like atmosphere to the season that no other sport possesses, but it really doesn’t come close to outweighing the BCS’s flaws. A playoff, even a simple four-team plus-one setup, would reduce the drama in a few late season matchups, but it would help immeasurably in working out the postseason knots that arise when several deserving teams are left out of the national title picture, or worse, out of a premier bowl.

The Bowl Championship Series is, quite simply, too heavily criticized and too blatantly wrong to not be somewhere close to its deathbed. Need proof? Look at this season, in which a national championship fiasco was complemented by an array of top ten teams being left out of BCS bowls. The latter scenario seemed to slip under the radar, but it is these teams that provide the most compelling anti-BCS case. Controversy is inevitable when selecting between two equally qualified teams for one spot. When you have several unqualified teams usurping the spotlight from several that are qualified, that’s when you have a problem.

The national title situation is simple enough. LSU beat Alabama on the road by three points en route to an undefeated year. Alabama won the rest of their games. Oklahoma State cruised through all their games and won the Big XII in impressive fashion, save a Friday night upset at the hands of a 6-6 Iowa State team. Who’s more deserving of the second berth in the title game, the right to take on LSU? Many say the Crimson Tide—after all, their loss was much less incriminating than Oklahoma State’s. Others choose the Cowboys, claiming that Bama already had their chance to take down LSU—at home, no less—and failed. It’s only fair to give another team a shot.

It’s a lose-lose scenario, really. How do you solve it and satisfy both sides? Use a playoff. All three teams will, among others, battle for the title, and it will quickly become clear to America who the two most deserving squads were. The BCS, as it is a computer and feels no sympathy toward human emotions nor playoff systems, elected to satisfy half the nation and picked the Tide to face the Tigers.

Still, the real injustice lies in the rest of the BCS Bowls. There are ten BCS slots. Surely the top ten ranked teams should automatically qualify for these games? Surely the teams ranked from six through nine—Arkansas, Boise State, Kansas State, and South Carolina, respectively—are more deserving than numbers eleven (Virginia Tech), thirteen (Michigan), fifteen (Clemson), and, go figure, twenty-three (West Virginia)? Not according to the system. For reasons both monetary (Michigan and Virginia Tech are sure to draw large audiences based on their name, not their talent) and, well, silly (Clemson and West Virginia earn automatic bids for winning their extremely questionable conferences), the former four teams are shut out from the BCS. The fallout is harsh, too—Boise State, forever the nemesis of big-time BCS executives everywhere, will be playing 6-6 Arizona State in the Maaco Las Vegas Bowl.

How do you solve this dilemma? Use a playoff. And, while you’re at it, don’t include Virginia Tech, Michigan, Clemson, and West Virginia. Don’t send them home for the holidays—keep the bowl games intact and have them square off with other ranked squads in some exciting pre-playoff matchups. But no one, and I mean no one, would tell you that any of those four teams had a better resume than any of those ranked in the top ten. To provide some insight, here’s a peek at what an eight-team playoff would look like this year, using the year-end rankings to seed the teams:

(1) LSU vs. (8) Kansas State
(4) Stanford vs. (5) Oregon
(3) Oklahoma State vs. (6) Arkansas
(2) Alabama vs. (7) Boise State

I won’t bore you with a game-by-game synopsis on how it would turn out (mainly because, no matter how you spin it, LSU and Alabama are the two best teams this season), but the entertainment and drama would be off the charts. Oklahoma State thinks they deserve a shot at the national title? Prove it by making it through Arkansas, whose only losses all year were to the two SEC behemoths. How about a rematch of Stanford-Oregon, only this time with the national title potentially on the line? Could Boise State, essentially a botched field goal away from playing in the title game this year, get past Alabama upon being given its first actual shot at the championship? And this is only the first round.

There’s a limit to how long the drama can go on. Eventually the BCS will become too decrepit to ignore. Eventually television contracts will expire, deals will be reworked, and a playoff system of some sort will be put in place.

Or maybe not, in which case drawing up hypothetical postseason scenarios will never cease to be enjoyable.

I’ll be honest with you: I am an unabashed Tim Tebow fan. I’ve had a huge soft spot for him going back to his college days at the University of Florida, ever since, in his junior year, he delivered “The Speech.” After getting stopped on a 4^th and 1 that led to a one-point loss to Ole Miss, Tebow gave a press conference that ended with the statement “You have never seen another player work as hard as I will for the rest of the season. God bless.” Tebow’s Gators went on to sweep the rest of their schedule and win the national title. That’s what I love most about Tim Tebow—his nearly comical dedication to succeed in everything. And succeed he does. I remember Rick Reilly once wrote a column singing the praising of Tiger Woods, both on and (ironically enough) off the golf course, stating something along the lines of “It shouldn’t be allowed for a guy to be so all-around gifted.” Tebow basically embodies Reilly’s thesis in a nutshell.

His bloodthirsty desire to win, somehow still unconquered, is matched with a strict Catholic, clean-cut attitude. It’s almost ridiculous, yes, but what about Tebow isn’t ridiculous? The teary interview he gave after losing his final regular season college game in which he called opposing coach Nick Saban a “great man?” His admitted tendency towards religious trash talk on the field—insult of choice being “Jesus loves you?” Certainly not his family-friendly Super Bowl commercial from a few year ago, which went something like this:

Tim Tebow’s Mom: Hi guys! I’m Tim Tebow’s mom!

(Tim Tebow’s Mom is mysteriously hit with a football)

Tim Tebow’s Mom: Ow! Tim!

(Tim Tebow enters stage left)

Tim Tebow: Haha! Sorry Mom! Abortion is bad!

Case in point. It’s been almost surreal watching his rise from heavily maligned backup this summer to the John Fox-appointed savior of the Broncos franchise. All he’s had to overcome along the way is his own general manger who, in essence, called him a scrub (and who is also John Elway), thousands of shots from ESPN analysts who claimed he couldn’t hit the broad side of a chapel, and seven NFL defenses while fronting a team that was in total disarray before he showed up. But voila! The Broncos have won all but one of Tebow’s starts and are now very much alive in the AFC playoff race.

It’s all happened in perfect Tebow fashion too. After taking the starting job from Kyle Orton (who was 1-5 to that point) in the seventh week of the season, Tebow performed awfully for three quarters before rallying for an improbable overtime victory against the Dolphins. He followed that up with a dazzling two-touchdown defeat of the Raiders, two come-from-behind victories against the Chiefs and Jets and yet another overtime win in a thriller against the rival Chargers to pull to 6-5. This Sunday, with a share of first place in the AFC West on the line, he predictably fell behind the 2-9 Vikings before staging a fourth quarter rally and picking up the W. Ho hum.

In all honesty, the most entertaining part of Tebow’s rise has been the polarizing effect he has had on the football world. You can’t turn on ESPN these days without hearing two bearded men in suits who should probably be doing something more productive with their time dissecting the quarterback’s every move. Football purists hate him because his average passing abilities and ungainly throwing motion shouldn’t possibly translate to a 6-1 record as a starter. Fans hate him because his nice-guy image doesn’t fit the NFL stereotype. The entire nation hates him because no one can possibly explain how a quarterback can complete less than half of his passes, run a college-style offense and still come out on top every week.

The answer? I couldn’t tell you. I’d love to say it’s Tebow’s unrivaled desire to win that I referred to earlier, but who can say for sure? It could be John Fox’s willingness to experiment and try an option offense at the professional level, or halfback Willis McGahee, who alongside Tebow has sparked the Denver rushing attack, or even the Broncos’ defense, which has held their opponents in check and given the offense time to get adjusted to the wacky new schemes. In actuality it’s probably some combination of all those factors, but that doesn’t change how inspiring it’s been to see Tebow’s tendency to simply will his team to victory in close games continue in the NFL.  For every naysayer, there are just as many who stand firmly behind him, or, at the very least, are enjoying the heck out of watching him play—the emergence of tebowing.com has started a strange craze in which dropping into prayer at inopportune moments is dubbed “Tebowing.” Having a successful starting quarterback who regularly quotes the Bible and spends his offseason giving sermons in Haiti is really quite remarkable. And a bit funny, yes. But that’s just a bonus.

It won’t last forever. At some point, defenses will start keying in on Denver’s option offense and force Tebow to start passing. Will it happen this year? It’s possible. Will he still succeed when forced to rely on his arm instead of his legs? It’s far too soon to tell. But no matter what happens, it doesn’t change the fact that Tim Tebow is a role model, the likes of which are tough to come by in the National Football League today. That, and the whole situation in Denver is incredibly ridiculous. Take my advice—enjoy it and do the Tebow while you still can.

I realized she was right. I could see undeniable proof of that in myself. I used to love to listen to people talk about themselves and tell me their stories. I used to love to help people. I used to just enjoy verbally meandering with someone about whatever thoughts happened to pop into our mind.

Now, when friends begin to talk about an issue they’re having, or try to tell me about something they’re going through, I only half listen, as I am preoccupied thinking about all the things that I have to do. Even worse, I subtly encourage them to rush through their words as I simply “don’t have a lot of time” and “have to go soon.”

During sleepovers, there used to be hours upon hours of the night where my friends and I would stay up talking about anything and everything. Now, we simply fall asleep and I can’t even begin to remember what it was that we used to talk about for so long. I have become so committed to a Question and Answer format that I cannot say anything unless I can decipher a concrete issue. If there are no questions, my brain shuts off, and the ingrained tiredness of a too-busy life takes over.

I don’t mean to blame high school for this, as I don’t think that is the only factor. I think high school is where it all begins, but otherwise it may just be an inherent virus of the 21st century. We are trained to be busy from the time we enter freshman year at age 14. By the time we graduate from high school, we are handed a diploma and an individual 24/7 schedule sketched into our brains (or our smartphones, as it may be).
We are trained to go to work (or school) all day long. We are trained to think critically about important issues. We are trained to take work home with us. We are told to never stop trying harder, and never spend a moment relaxing when we could be doing something productive. It’s all about Your Schedule, Your Commitments, Your Projects, Your Work, Your Responsibilities.

One day we stop and realize we have a million problems spilling out of our pockets that we were just too busy to deal with, and everyone else was too busy to listen. The problem has reached such a point that we have come to depend on psychologists to listen to us. A psychologist is so often just a paid stand-in for a friend, a paid ear. I fear that sympathy is fading from the free world, for we are all bred to be too obsessed with ourselves as individuals. Ayn Rand might holler a cry of triumph for this post-communist concept, but I wonder if the 21st century is getting a bit too carried away. One day we may go so far just to realize that progress was a few turns back: that success is not to be measured in how much money we make, but how little money it takes to make us happy.

With all of this pent-up anger mixing with our lingering grief over the end of the Phillies season, we can’t help but wonder, who is to blame? The obvious answer is Andy Reid.

Though we’ve had issues on all sides of the ball, everything that the Eagles have accomplished (or failed to) comes down to Andy Reid. We had possibly the largest offseason additions in our team’s storied history, yet we’ve gone backwards, heading to our worst start through 9 games since starting 2-7 in 1999. This team has easily been the worst I’ve ever witnessed, not that I can say I’ve ever witnessed an absolutely terrible Eagles team, the worst being our 6-10 team in 2005.

The worst part about this season was our bloated expectations. A wonderful offseason led to talks of the Eagles as Super Bowl favorites, but also led to a bloated egos and a massive target on our backs.

Our defense was supposedly going to become among the best in the NFL, after key additions of cornerback Nnamdi Asomugha and defensive end Jason Babin. Instead, it ranks a mere 13th overall and 17th against the run. This puts them at a point slightly worse than they were last season, 12th and 15th respectively, despite these additions.

Most of this blame falls on Juan Castillo, an offensive line coach who was converted to defensive coordinator by Reid in the offseason. This seemed like a bad idea just on the face of it. Why would an offensive line coach be more effective than an experienced defensive coordinator or even an assistant coach from the defensive side of the ball? Common sense tells you to take the defensive guy every time.

But of course, Andy went the way we didn’t expect him to go, because that’s just how this season has been. We were supposed to go from a middling contender to an elite team and improve upon our 10-6 record last season. Instead, we’ve already equaled our loss total from last year and it’s only week 11.

While this all may just sound like the ranting of an angry Eagles fan, which it is, this also serves as an expression of the general disgust the fan base as a whole has felt this season and in seasons past. Though Reid has clearly been a good thing for Philadelphia, which is 120-77-1 under Reid, he’s continually made key mistakes.

Most of these mistakes have involved the usage of timeouts, as Reid finds ways to waste timeouts in the 3rd quarter and ends up one short when it comes down to kicking the tying field goal or saving time for that final drive. He also finds ways to use challenges in the most inopportune times. Though there is no official statistic kept for challenges, as of November 9th, 2009 the Philadelphia Inquirer reported that he had won a mere 32.6% since 2000.

We’ve put up with these mistakes for years, but now that the Eagles are in such a disappointing position, it has all become too much to handle. If the Eagles manage to lose their key rivalry game tonight against the Giants, consider Andy’s tenure over. The only reason you can even consider keeping him is his past success, but we’ve given him 13 years and one of the most talented rosters in the league and he hasn’t won us a championship. Now, in the midst of what could be his worst season as a head coach, would be the prime time to replace Andy Reid.

Therefore I can honestly say that when I heard I made the Slytherin quidditch team for Harriton’s quidditch tournament, a lifelong dream was being realized. And the fulfillment of this dream only got better when I went to practice and discovered: playing quidditch is the most fun I have had in a while.

I think the fact that our quidditch tournament was canceled midway through is a shame. I entirely understand the reasoning and agree that the game was getting too violent. Halting it was the right thing to do. But even in my battered and bruised state I find myself wishing for more. And I ask desperately: please give us a second chance.

The combination of Harry Potter Day and Quidditch Night at Harriton amounted to one of the most successful events I have seen in the history of Harriton. As a school we are notorious for our lack of spirit. But spirit was at a high for quidditch. As a member of the pep band I can confidently say that there were vastly more people in the stands for quidditch than there are for a typical football game. If we were to reinstate quidditch it could act as a gateway sport. Spirit for quidditch leads to spirit for football, for basketball, for anything.
Additionally, quidditch led to camaraderie formerly unparalleled at Harriton. The quidditch teams were comprised of varied demographics. Participants were three-season athletes, Science Olympians, HTC kids, upperclassmen, lowerclassmen, IB, AP, and anything in between.

It transcended any labels or divisions we might have. Inside Slytherin I got to bond with fantastic people I might not have any other contact with. Over the practices and the t-shirt decorating we became a team.

Outside Slytherin there was bonding as well. At the end of the tournament I went to Hopes Cookies to celebrate an incredible night. There I ran into members of all four teams, and fans as well. As a unit everyone rehashed the games and joked about calls and plays made. We as Harriton students reveled in the great thing our school had done.

I know to bring back quidditch, things would have to be changed. There would have to be more rules regulating tackling and checking. We would have to wear mouth guards, and padding, and turn in physicals. We would have to turn down the aggressiveness, and I would have to watch my mouth during games.

But I accept all of these conditions. Because I think quidditch is one of the greatest things Harriton has done in years. It brought together the Harriton community like nothing I have ever seen before, which is not something I think should be taken lightly. I know Quidditch could become a great tradition for Harriton.

And most of all, quidditch is fun. It is a wildly, exhilaratingly, thrillingly great time. I have become consumed with a love for the sport. My little sister yelled at me over lunch the day after the tournament because I wouldn’t stop talking about it. But imagine if she never gets to experience the thrill of running down the gym floor with a pool noodle between her legs in pursuit of a dodge-ball. I can’t imagine a more abject fate.

But as much as I hate to admit it, what happened on Quidditch night was probably the only thing Mr. Ferguson could have done to control the situation. The game was getting progressively more violent, tensions were heightened, and most importantly, no one signed any liability waivers. I accept what happened. I am not going argue with the solution, but I will argue with the way in which it was handled.

The game was intense for the crowd and the players. As a chaser for Ravenclaw, I was hyped up and had enough energy to try to barrel through Zander Levit (which didn’t go so well). My team was getting pummeled, and I ended up flat on my back more times than I’d like to count, and yet I can still say that Monday night was the most fun I have had in a long time.

Everyone was getting angry, but in an exhilarating way that’s hard to describe. The Slytherin and Gryffindor players wanted nothing more in that moment than to finish the game and leave all of their anger and hostility on the pitch.

Now imagine being part of this and having someone come and tell you it’s all over. I understand that “it was fun” is not a good excuse for allowing violence to happen, but the way it happened was all-wrong.

There’s nothing teenagers hate more than being yelled at by adults, so compound that with the fact that these adults were putting an end to what had been two hours of blissful chaos and you’re going to get over a hundred angry teenagers who will never forget what happened and how it happened.

Eject the offending players, but don’t end the game for everyone. There were only a few minutes left until the snitch had to return to the gym, so just let them finish it out and then don’t let them play any other games.

This actually brings me to my next motion, which I think is the most important to everyone in the school. This should not be the end of Quidditch at Harriton forever. It shouldn’t even be the end for this year.

As I said before, the players put all of their heart into these games, and the fans were just as emotionally involved. In other words, it was a total success.
The point of this whole endeavor was to get students involved in a fun school activity and put on a good show for all of the fans, and it did just that.

Yes, the incident that ended the tournament was part of the game. Should the school be encouraging this kind of activity? Maybe not, but like any other sport, there are risks that come with the rewards. There are simple ways to deal with these risks too: liability waivers and elbow pads, like any other sport.
Informally, every player agreed that they knew that Quidditch is a rough contact sport, and were ready to take any hits for the team for the chance to play. Unfortunately, an informal agreement isn’t enough to keep you from getting injured or from your parents getting angry. Easy fix: Treat quidditch like any other sport, complete with liability waivers. Get adult referees so there’s no question of whether the rules are being enforced, and it wouldn’t hurt to call some roughness fouls.

Still worried about injuries? Play on the turf, or get knee and elbow pads. There’s a good reason most contact sports require pads, and Quidditch is no different.

Anyway, the point I want to make is that you can’t blame the school entirely for ending the match so suddenly. For them, the choice was simple: end the game and anger students or let a potential brawl happen on school grounds, complete with injured players, and angry parents.

Still, that being said, they should bring back Quidditch. As long as the fans and players get hype and participate wholeheartedly, this can and should remain a long-time tradition at Harriton.

Sporcle is, simply put, the most interesting website in the universe. It is so influential that it has manifested into a verb, to Sporcle, and into a noun describing its followers, Sporclers. As a Sporcler, I’ll be the first to tell you it’s a pretty worthwhile addiction.

Now you may have never heard of Sporcle and if so, fear not because Sporcle is simple. The website consists of a myriad of trivia games categorized by topic. Seem simple enough?

Well now comes the hard part, determining whether you know everything there is to know about life, the universe and everything. Hint: 42 is not a valid response on most Sporcle quizzes.

If you are human, which I would tend to assume you are, then you don’t know everything there is to know. The enjoyment comes in the exploration of what you really do know.

Consider yourself a sports expert? I bet you couldn’t name every single running back to rush for over 1000 yards in a season in the history of the NFL. Well neither can I. But what about that one friend of yours who always brags to you about how he knows more about football than you do?

Herein lies the true fun of Sporcle: the social aspect. There are two ways to enjoy Sporcle with a friend; you either work together on that one ridiculous puzzle that requires two minds to solve, or compete on a quiz, fighting for supremacy over a chosen topic.

There have been many times throughout the past few years when my friends and I have had intense Sporcle competitions. Rivalries developed, tempers flared, but in the end the only thing more blissful than getting the last answer to a Sporcle quiz as time is running out is the green checkmark on WebAssign. And let’s be honest, nothing will ever usurp that green checkmark.

In that way, Sporcle has become, at least for me, more of a stress reliever than a boredom reliever. Sporcle clears your mind as you focus on retrieving random information from your subconscious rather than those nagging APUSH notes that are begging for attention. Sometimes you need a break from the troubles of the world and rather than just staring out into space you can learn something new.

That’s not to say that Sporcle is purely educational; a good half of its quizzes involve word puzzles that test the way your brain works rather than your actual knowledge The point is that Sporcle is a better waste of time than nearly anything else.

It has become an activity as commonplace as going to the bathroom because of that slight educational value. Well maybe not that common nor driven by any form of educational value, but you get my point. Everywhere you go there are people busy Sporcling.

The main reason for this is that Sporcle appeals to people of all ages and with any of a wide variety of interests. Many games advertise that they are fun for the whole family, but Sporcle actually is. Some quizzes require the knowledge of multiple generations of pop culture to finish.

Essentially, Sporcle is the ultimate stress reliever and boredom reliever. “A Sporcle a day keeps the doctor away,” says the wise man. “Nine out of ten fake doctors recommend it. That 10th guy? You don’t want to meet him.”

So next time you’re sitting around in the library or a study hall, staring blankly at your computer screen, thinking “oh golly gee there has to be something exciting I could be doing,” turn to your friend and simply say “Sporcle?” Let’s just hope they know what you mean.