I stared at the box in my hands until my neck got sore. I failed to make eye contact, obsessed with the events on the small rectangle in my grasp. Waiting, patiently, for my enemy to miscalculate and then….a break, and downfield I went.! Each press of the button rewards me with progress towards the goal-line, and a surprisingly satisfying “thuck”. My eyes and my fingers are acting in accord until finally, I hear the tinny, rising notes of the “Touchdown” tune on my Mattel Electronic Football. 

I think this is where hand-held gaming started; at least for me. The internet says it came out in 1977, and it likely was a Christmas Present that year or the next. I played mine into the ground. Actually, since those electronics from the late-seventies were made so sturdily, mine is possibly still out there somewhere playable. But I played it forever. I know I mastered it: I got to the point where I was competing with myself to see if I could break the game’s two-digit score limit, and I’m pretty sure I did. I could make my little, slightly brighter red dash outsmart all the opposing red dashes at will. I learned that since the game screen only represented ten-yards at a time, it made sense to hesitate and stunt a bit downfield if I broke free, so the defenders would slowly meander towards me. That would spread out the gauntlet when my little red symbol appeared for the next ten yards. Of course this lost me time to run up the score at the cost of wasting time dawdling. I could feel myself gaining expertise and confidence, which was a not insignificant thing for a cross-eyed, half-deaf kid. I learned I could master the tactical game, if not the physical one. This is where I learned how to outthink an opponent.

From a design standpoint, the case was genius at work. The simple silk-screen lines and the little plastic stands, which acted as a sun visor, fixed the abstract dance of dashes in a classic football stadium, held in the hand. The stage was set for you (well, me) to tell my story of prowess.