Video game leads to father-son understanding

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My 14-year-old son and I were having our usual issue. I wanted CNN but he preferred MTV's "Rob and Big.'' That's a reality show about a huge black guy named Big and a short white guy named Rob.The show follows Rob skateboarding in forbidden urban areas while Big tries to protect him from security guards. I don't really get it. But Zach doesn't get why I stare at yet another hour of campaign analysis.He was on the couch with a MacBook open. He never does just one thing. He is often texting, glancing at TV and computer-messaging eight people while fiddling with an iPod. I don't get that either.Every so often, I tried to engage him.What did he think of Boston Red Sox slugger Manny Ramirez closing in on 500 home runs? "He's disgusting," said Zach. "Disgusting" is a compliment. It means someone is so talented, it's disgusting. My goal in life is for Zach at some point to consider me disgusting, too. Or at least "sick," which is also good. It hasn't happened yet. He had an open bag of chips on the ottoman. There were some homework papers around it. I asked if he might want to clean that up at some point."It's straight," he said. I think that means everything's fine."It doesn't look straight." "Dad, seriously." I kept trying to engage him, but each time, he'd get another text or message and be off on that. After a while, I decided to try something extreme."Hey -- you want to play Skate?"For the first time, he looked right at me."For real?"I don't fully know what Skate is, except he plays it often on Xbox."For real," I said. To close the deal, I added, "I'll wreck you.""Sure you will, dad," he said, and a few minutes later, we were in the basement -- no computer or phone; just the two of us playing Skate. It was a rare case of him acting mad-souped to be in my company. "Mad-souped," I believe, means "pleased."We each chose a skateboarder -- mine an apparently real person named Ali Boulala. The first round involved doing tricks on a half pipe. Zach guided his guy into a nose grab, a Method, a Rocket Air and a Stale Fish.My guy kept falling. The score was soon 8,000 to 1,313, Zach. I asked if he was better at this game than his 16-year-old brother Alex."I wreck him," said Zach. But he admitted Alex "owns" him in most other games, particularly Madden (NFL football).We moved to a more challenging area, where our guys had to Ollie onto a 30-stair handrail and ride it down. Zach explained how to hold down the controller's right analog stick and flick it for the jump. "Got it," I said. "Watch me bust this out." I'm not sure that was a correct phrase, but I thought it sounded good.I kept missing the rail and crashing onto the stairs. But Zach rode the rail each time, adding in such moves as a pop Shuvit 180, whatever that is. After each of his runs, the screen said, "Spot owned." I think that meant he did it successfully.I asked what else he could do, so he took off on his own, skating through downtown streets, doing Nollie kickflips off curbs. At one point, he intentional ly plowed into a pedestrian. "Why'd you run into that poor guy?" I asked."That's just how I roll," Zach explained. He got to a building roof for his favorite part. The idea is to skate off it and land upright three stories below. But Zach prefers to send his guy smashing onto the sidewalk, since that brings up a skeleton showing which bones he broke. The screen is called the "Thrasher Hall of Meat," which Zach said is a real magazine feature that shows photographs of skaters wiping out. "Check this out," he said as his guy crashed on his side. The skeleton image reported him breaking five ribs, an arm, a wrist, and both legs -- nine total. Zach said it wasn't bad, but 16 bones is his personal record.I asked why he liked wrecking himself."What's the fun of that?" he asked, and promptly broke a shin, a thigh bone, both feet and his skull. "Nice," he said.While he played, we talked about his Babe Ruth baseball team, and how he felt about starting high school next yea r. We talked about his community service project, his friends and even a little bit about girls. He left the roof for the streets, banging into pedestrians, poles and cars. I asked if gaming was bigger than ever in his life. Not really. To use his words: he's not all about it anymore. It's just a way to chill. He did a Cross-bone 540, a Method 720 and a Tuck-knee backflip.I didn't exactly see the appeal, but it didn't matter. What mattered is you connect with them on their terms.Then he did a big move that the screen described as a Nollie 360 Hardflip.I told him he was disgusting"Thanks, Dad," he said.And we lingered on like that for a while.(E-mail Mark Patinkin at mpatinkin(at)projo.com)(Distributed by Scripps Howard News Service, www.scrippsnews.com.)