Scrabbling to the top

Last year was a bad year for competitive Scrabble. The 2012 USA National Scrabble Championship, which took part in Orlando, Florida, was hit by scandal. One player, a wunderkind of 13 years old, was exposed after a suspicious opponent noticed that he kept appearing to draw the prized blank tiles from the tile bag. It emerged that the little sneak was palming the blanks before each game and then pretending to draw them from the bag when it suited him. Max Karten, a former champion, complained to The Atlantic that cheating of this kind was degrading competitive Scrabble.

Nonetheless, the outcome – a judge was called, the tiles were counted, and the cheat expelled – was less dramatic than the way scenes might have unfolded at the World Scrabble Championships in 2011. There a Thai player demanded that his British opponent be strip-searched in the toilet, accused of hiding the letter “G”. The judges ruled that such a search would be undignified, and replaced the missing G tile with a new one. The Brit went on to win the game by just one point.

“Scrabble is a game of personal honour; opponents police themselves and each other,” a compelling Sports Illustrated feature stated in 1995. “As a result it is rife with feuds and imagined slights and Floor tiles. Players are as sensitive as flowers to any sign of ‘coffeehousing’ – the practice of trying to throw off an opponent by slurping a drink.”

South Africa’s newly-crowned Scrabble champion, Llewellin Jegels, says that these kinds of intimidation attempts are routine. “Absolutely, it happens all the time,” Jegels told the Daily Maverick. Competitive Scrabble sounds… intense. “Social players are quite shocked to see how we play,” Jegels agrees. “There’s a chess clock, it’s one-on-one, the game has to be finished in 50 minutes.”

The story goes that Scrabble was invented during the Great Depression by an unemployed architect called Alfred Butts. With a name like that, Mr Butts was surely no stranger to the power of word-play. Butts wanted to create a vocabulary-based game which nonetheless had an element of chance, and he called it the infinitely less-marketable ‘Criss-Cross Words’.

Butts was no linguist, but he hit on a cunning way to determine how frequently different letters should appear on Scrabble tiles: analysing the front page of the New York Times to see which were the most-used vowels and consonants in the English language. He deliberately limited the appearance of ‘S’ (just four per game) to deter plural words which would make the game too easy. A marketing partner suggested he change the name to ‘Scrabble’ after initial attempts to sell the game failed, and trademarked it in 1948. The rest is history – or at least, it was after the popular department store Macy’s began to stock the game, according to legend.

There’s a widespread notion that the people who work with language the most – writers, linguists – would be the best at Scrabble. Although Jegels himself is a writer and publisher, he says this idea simply doesn’t hold. “Many good Scrabble players are mathematicians. They seem to understand the probability of certain sets of tiles being picked. What is the probability of picking the word ‘retained?’ Very high; we’ve computed that.”

Scrabble players often rely on extremely obscure words to win their games. Jegels sends a photograph of the board after he’d won his final game at Nationals. The majority of words on it are unfamiliar: yag? Zoril? Qats?

“We don’t learn the meanings of all the words,” he explains. “It’s an extra memory burden to us. You just need to know that the word is there. As competitive players, the words represent opportunities to crush opponents with porcelain tiles. They’re like chess pieces.”

Like most competitive Scrabble players, Jegels learns lists of hundreds of thousands of words off by heart. Players take new words and re-arrange them alphabetically, to learn. Then, when the tiles are in front of the player, hopefully the memory prompt will supply the underlying word.

“We also have to learn all the anagrams of the words,” Jegels says. This allows players to choose the more obscure option, in order to make it more difficult for the next player to build off it. “Say you could play either RADIANT or INTRADA,” Jegels says.

Before tournaments, Jegels will play Scrabble intraday, every day. Sometimes he’ll have a flesh-and-blood training partner, he says, but more often than not he uses a software programme which analyses moves based on their potential score.

The computer programme he’s talking about is called “Quackle”, a seldom-heard word meaning “to choke”. In November 2006 it became the first piece of software to beat a Scrabble world champion in a best-of-5 match. “For competitive Scrabble players,” the Journal of Experimental Psychology noted, “the defeat of human intelligence by artificial intelligence is a watershed event comparable to the May 1997 win by IBM’s computer programme Deep Blue in a chess match against the reigning champion Gary Kasparov”.

The comparison between chess and Scrabble comes up several times during a conversation with Jegels,  who loves playing chess as well. He acknowledges that Scrabble currently lacks the status or prestige of chess. “In time, that will come, but it will take a while because of its association with family fun,” he says. Jegels thinks one of the biggest misconceptions about Scrabble held by non-players is the role of luck.