Weekly summaries of our group's Wednesday night Catan games

The winter standings (in wins; point totals to come soon):

(1) *Steve: 4 (2) *Pat: 4 (3) *Kristen: 3 (4) *Scott: 2 (5) Kim: 2** (6) *Kathryn: 2 (7) Kevin: 0

*Denotes status as a regular

**Two point win

Since I've been covering the 7.2 miles from my house to Pat and Kristen's on foot (via a running motion), I've been returning home (via a car) from Wednesday night Settlers games noticeably lighter, a sign of our hosts' still newly-wed status and corresponding lack of an established refrigerator. Mentally, especially after a double-bagel (tennis lingo for a two set shut-out), I return slightly heavier, only to burn that self-perceived weight in anticipation of next week's game, when it returns again, only to be burned, and so on. It's an endless cycle I'll run around until I retire or become imprisoned and finally learn the game of bridge.* Because if there isn't baggage, angst, perception-altering moments, and mental growth associated with the games we love most, we may as well spend the rest of our lives without a score card, taking ten golf swings until the ball lands in the hole and then moving on to the next one.

But what if we played Catan almost every day, or 162 plus times in a seven month period? Where would our heads be after a year to nearly 20 years of that?

We'd be both lucky and maybe even a little cursed if we ended up like Derek Jeter and his near 20-year professional baseball career. Jeter's been playing the game since the '80s, but he only started trying to win championships in 1996. Since then, that goal has consumed his life perhaps more so than any other player of his era. Though World Series rings and his performances leading up to them have made Jeter one of the most respected and successful athletes in sports history, they've also impeded his search for true love.

Obviously, he's learned to enjoy the single life, but since at least five or six years ago it hasn't made sense for someone as image-conscious as he. Exactly three minor scandals have only slightly hurt Jeter (signed baseball incident, herpes rumors, and intentionally getting hit by a pitch a few seasons ago), two of which were directly related to his bachelor lifestyle. He knows it would be in his best interest to marry, but he can't because of his obsession with baseball and winning the next World Series.

In "Unbreakable," Bruce Willis was only able to love his family again after he discovered his true calling; conversely, Derek Jeter will only be able to love another woman (besides his mother) when he gives up his true calling. Part of him probably knows this already. Whatever he decides to do post-baseball (I think he'll try the world of business in order to up his bankroll to possibly own a professional sports franchise, become disenchanted, have a private conference with Joe Torre, and return to the game as manager of either the Yankees or a national league team on the west coast), marriage will likely become a part. Right now, it isn't possible.

Of course, burnout is more of a factor in individual sports (besides golf), or individual games like Settlers of Catan. Had our five man group all begun as single people at an earlier stage in our lives and played the game at the same rate and with the same obsession as Jeter (and with the same perfect facial features and preternatural cap-wearing abilities), we'd be more like five small islands with semi-exotic love lives than the five more reasonable people we are today on one long island. Much would be gained, but something big would be taken from us during those twenty years, whether it's the ability to fall in love, the ability to sleep at night, or simply the ability to keep playing. I think the team element of baseball saved Jeter from worse fates than his inability to settle on a woman. Catan, of course, doesn't have that.

But we only play Wednesday nights, a rate that makes every game special and has so far sustained us for over a year without any signs of waning. We also started at a later stage in our lives than Jeter began his baseball career. Twenty years from now, if we're not still playing Catan, it won't be because of its mental toll, but because we've simply found something else -- bridge?

The Robber. By assuming the rules of 3-4 player Catan are the same as the 5-6 expanded version, we've made the robber an even darker shadow on the game (and rightly so). As recently discovered by Kathryn during an outside game with her other friends, in 5-6 man games players are allowed to build on every turn, after the dice-roller has finished his turn. When she sent the group text that weekend, I imagined the look of disgust on Steve and Pat's face, the same look that would appear a few days later when I brought up the rule in person. We hated it instantly and we haven't even considered reverting to it for larger games. Not only does the combination of the robber and building on your turn only add more chance to the game, but it also adds more skill and a certain unpredictability at the end. A late game "7" roll has killed many a winning strike.

Strangely, it hurt Kathryn the most during game 1 on Wednesday night, even as she came back to grab the win over my own neat set up (harbor master, steady supply of sheep, sheep port, possibilities for longest road). Later, she did the same thing to Pat (settled on gold and accumulating resources at an IRS-alerting pace). They were her first two victories of the year. Similar to what Pat said before and during his famous drought, she called the wins, "getting back to her roots."

*I've heard of people downplaying their jail sentence because of the chance to play more bridge, the people who retire and spend their days playing bridge, and Bill Gates' recent Reddit interview in which he said he played Bridge. Teach me!