Game Over

It’s official – I’m a loser. After failing to get into Pop I’ve now failed to get what I really wanted after all: the house captaincy. Dark Horse has won, he has beaten me. He will be house captain next year.  I will be a nobody.

This past week has been a sad one. Last Thursday evening our house master called all of us C blockers into his office for a meeting. He said he wanted to discuss plans for next year, and looking back I should have guessed he might say something about the house captaincy. Given he had yet to talk to me about it though i.e. ask me to be house captain, I wasn’t expecting him to announce it. Consequently, I suspected nothing as we walked in, not even when we found Dark Horse already in there with a smug look on his face.

For ten minutes we did indeed talk about plans for next year. We looked back on the past year’s achievements as a house, all the trophies we had won, those we had missed out on, and everything in between.  As always, I made several insightful comments and was appreciated by everyone there.

Then, after a few points about house athletics, our house master cleared his throat to gather everyone’s attention on him.

‘Now,’ he said, ‘before you leave there’s one important thing I would like to announce.’ He looked down at this point warmly at Dark Horse, who stared back at him doe-eyed. We all sat there in a state of bafflement – where they going to announce their engagement?

‘As you know,’ he said, ‘I will need all of you to help me next year, but some more so than others. This is why I am delighted to announce, as my house captain for next half, Dark Horse!’

Silence. None of us could believe what we’d just heard.

Someone eventually punctured the awkwardness with a half-hearted ‘congratulations Dark Horse’. Others joined in with no more enthusiasm. I myself could say nothing. I sat there utterly shocked, completely mute, unable to take in what had just happened. Dark Horse. Dark Horse? He’d done it. He’d actually beaten me and become house captain. Dark Horse, the most unintelligent, un-sporty, unfunny and unpopular person I knew - he had given me a beating. What was I now?

Of course, part of me had seen it coming. As I left the study in a daze I realised I had no reason to feel surprised. Ever since the moment I had spied his parents chatting to our house master in his study it had been a done deal. A fait accompli. My mistake had been thinking I had a chance, getting sucked into the competition while Dark Horse was pulling strings I had no access to. It was a stitch up.

Back in my room I continued the post mortem. Regarding my own performance there was little more I could have done. For the whole year I had flattered our house master, conversing with him in the corridor, complimenting him, assisting him with tasks and even flirting when the situation demanded. Whenever there was a chore that needed doing, I was the one to volunteer. I was always there next to him at lunch, making sure the conversation was all about him and filling up his glass whenever it was even half-empty. To put it bluntly, I had been his obsequious servant for a good ten months.

But in the end it had failed. Even my dirty tactics had no effect, such as my subtle reminders to our house master and the house generally about Dark Horse’s most embarrassing moments. Moments such as the time he scored a horrendous own goal in Junior League, or when he failed his Maths trial, or best of all, when he had diarrhoea one time and had to run out of lunch clutching his arse. Bringing up these memories during lunchtime conversations, or in the waiting time for Prayers clearly hadn’t done the trick.

I may sound bitter and a sore loser. No doubt I do, but the biggest loser in all of this is going to be the house. Dark Horse is such a spineless, stultifying dweeb that we have no chance of exceeding our potential next year. It’s as if the country were suddenly to have James Blunt thrust upon it as Prime Minister – our chances of exerting any influence around the world would be instantly nil.

I’m not sure what to do now. The school year ends tomorrow so there’s no way I can force a U-turn on our house master’s decision, not even if I convinced him that Dark Horse was a sexual predator (oh the irony of that). It is inevitable, therefore, that Dark Horse will be in charge next Michaelmas half.

But it will only be for one half as things stand currently. Houses often change their house captains for the Lent and Summer halves, so if I carry on trying my best there’s a good chance I could become house captain for one of those halves. Better than nothing surely?

The problem is though that being made house captain in the Lent or Summer is a bit like picking up your mate’s sloppy seconds. He already been there – being made house captain in the Michaelmas – and now you’re just taking over what he’s left behind. The position is always going to be somewhat tainted for you.

So no, a large part of me doesn’t want to play ball. On the contrary, doing my best to hijack Dark Horse’s tenure as house captain seems a far more attractive proposition. Doing so would not be difficult; teasing him in public, trashing his room, slagging him off to the new F blockers, these are all ways I could easily undermine him.

One thing’s for sure though: he needs a new name. No longer is he a dark horse, not after this victory at least. A more appropriate animal now for him would be a snake; a massive, slimy, poisonous snake. But that doesn’t really fit. A catchier name I reckon is Sepp. After the outgoing, power-hungry, corrupt FIfa chairman. Because Dark Horse bought this position and he will cling onto it for all he can. And while he does so can someone pass me another lemon?