PINBALL WIZARDS

George and Mary’s Luncheonette - what a great place, a great memory.

I still smell the smoky emporium soaked in the residue of ten thousand fried burgers.  G&M’s was the hangout of the Bacon School scholars.  Lunch time filled the soda fountain and grill with 7^th and 8^th graders, the only students not required to eat in the cafeteria.  The menu, true teen gourmet - grease burger, cheese grease burger and the infamous G&M American sub, a roll loaded with oil, vinegar, oregano and an array of cholesterol laden lunch meats and more oil.  

In the back room of G&M’s was a row of pinball machines.  Dark and foreboding, only the true devotee would venture to this lair.  The walls were black from grill smoke and the odor of sneaked Lucky’s hung in the exposed eves.  The flashing lights of the immense machines gave it an eerie throbbing glow.  This was as close to a den of iniquity as a junior high kid could get.  . 

And Brad H. was a pinball wizard who ruled in this twilight of flashing lights and the ping and clunk of the dancing stainless steel balls. (His grandmother was the "M" in the G &M, so he had played countless games without spending a hard earned nickel.)  

I, on the other hand, had invested hundreds of buffalo heads in these pirates without once adding my initials to the winners circle on the illuminated marquee of the Batman and Robin Double Trouble machine.  I am convinced that the machines knew an amateur from a pro.  Bing, bang, bong, and the lights would blink and the flippers would flip.  It was hypnotic to say the least.  Our burger and coke waited on the bar as we frittered away our lunchtime. Bing, bam, the balls flew and the scores mounted.   But never was I (or anyone else) ever able to match the 999,999,999 points of the great Wizard - Brad. 

But one night I was hitting on all cylinders.  It was a Friday and the South Millville boys were at G&M’s and not at the movies like most of our Jr. High classmates.  Pin ball had won over a Jerry Lewis comedy.

The machine was hot.  I had 56 million gazillion and now only needed one good ball, just one last good ball to overtake Brad if only for a brief moment of kid fame.  I pulled back the “striker” to its fullest.  My left index finger  poised on the flipper button.  I started to sweat.  This was the moment of truth.  A moment where I had an opportunity to become legend or be hurled back once again into pinball ignominy.

I loosed the striker.  Bing, Zing =  another 50,000 points on the big wheel and the ball spun around and was thrown toward my left flipper.  I waited for the precise moment and flipped and also struck the side of the machine, with just the right amount of force – so that my ball moved to the left, but not hard enough to “tilt” the machine.  This would mean immediate "game over" by the ever vigilant cheater watchdog built into every machine.  (Brad was a master of this slap technique and had never tilted a machine in over 10,000 games.)

My ball curved and hit the big red target.  Another 75,000 points.  I only need 100,000 more to post a big win.  I would become a G&M's  pinball wizard.  Maybe even get a free shake from my friends who were gathered around in silent respect for my attempt.   Iszard the Wizard.

The ball traveled down the inclined deck.  I rapped it with my right flipper and it flew around the machine like it had eyes - zing, zing, bong.  999, 999, 9998 points chalked up, I needed only to sink my ball in one of the bonus holes or hit the big zinger in the middle and I would make pinball history.

The ball was spit back at me at warp speed by the mechanical plunger at the top of the board.  My adrenaline spurted and I tensed.  My hair stood up on the back of my neck. This was it. But I knew I could do it.  Pinball fame was one flip away.  The silver orb shot toward my left flipper, my weak side.  I waited until the precise moment and with a dynamic twitch of my index finger pressed the flipper button.  It didn’t flip.  The flipper didn’t flip.  For god’s sake a malfunction in the machine.  The ball fell into the gutter and the game was over.

I had racked up 999,999,998. Two lousy points short of besting the Brad the best for at least until he played again.

 The machine stopped whirring and went into its “ballyhoo mode” playing the Batman and Robin theme from the TV in that tinny, mechanical, pinball machine music.  I stood there stunned for a moment and then walked away.  So near and yet so far away was that win.

I never played pinball again after that.  And Brad H. would never be beaten.  His initials remained on top of that list until George and Mary retired, the joint closed and their machines where trucked off to be sold at auction. 

But the record stands forever - and the pinball records of my day will never be challenged by the kids of today – those great gaudy blinking machines all went the way of the dinosaurs – killed off  by Xbox and iPad.