# The Worst Pinball I Ever Played **Source:** Nudge Magazine (website feed) **Type:** article **Published:** 2026-01-08 **Beat:** Pinball **URL:** https://www.nudgepinball.com/articles/the-worst-i-ever-played --- ## Analysis A personal essay reflecting on grief, community, and competitive pinball following the death of a legendary local Minneapolis player named Ben Granger. The author attended a tournament intending to honor their deceased friend through competitive dominance but instead played poorly, ultimately discovering that the real value of pinball lies in community connection rather than individual achievement or tournament placement. ### Key Claims - [HIGH] Ben Granger was a legendary Minneapolis pinball player known for exceptionally long ball 3 performances. — _Author's personal account of Granger's reputation within the local Twin Cities pinball community; verified through Facebook group stories._ - [HIGH] The Minneapolis tournament averages 15-20 players with consistent core group of approximately 10 regulars, roughly 80% male. — _Author's direct observation of their local tournament structure and demographics._ - [HIGH] The author played Star Wars at a tournament and scored 500 million points in their first game. — _Author's first-hand account of specific tournament performance during the session described._ - [HIGH] The author finished fourth place in one round and third place in multiple rounds during the tournament. — _Author's direct account of their tournament results that evening._ - [MEDIUM] Multiple people in the author's community have died recently (Ben Granger, Matt, and Gigi). — _Author's personal statement; only Granger's death is confirmed through community context; others not independently verified._ ### Notable Quotes > "Ball 3. For real. If you want some shits and giggles, go find the Twin Cities pinball group on facebook. It's just people trading stories about how much Ben fucked their life up by keeping a ball 3 alive for a literal billion points on any game." > — **Author (Nudge Magazine contributor)**, Opening section > _Establishes Ben Granger's legendary status in Minneapolis pinball community through humorous anecdote about his exceptional ball retention and scoring ability._ > "You think you're cool? But today I didn't wanna do that. I wanted to win. I wanted to beat all these good nice polite pinballers who have only shown love to me because that would be some badass tribute to my friend." > — **Author**, Mid-essay > _Reveals author's initial competitive intent driven by grief and desire to honor deceased friend through tournament victory._ > "Because I'm not some super human menace. I'm not a legend. I'm not Ben Granger. I'm a normal dude. And I'm feeling what all of us are feeling right now." > — **Author**, After describing poor play > _Author's realization that grief and broader social/political stress prevented performance and led to humbling self-awareness._ > "When people talk about community, a lot of times it's bullshit marketing buzzword stuff. But we pinball people are lucky – we get to experience real community." > — **Author**, Late essay > _Core thesis statement contrasting authentic pinball community versus performative corporate 'community' language._ > "I play pinball every single day, usually by myself. And when I do, it's a meditative exercise. It's needed for my mental health. I'm in flow state in those moments, I feel transcendent. I feel like a real pinball player. But sometimes in these tournaments? I don't." > — **Author**, Final section > _Articulates the psychological distinction between solo meditative pinball and tournament-induced stress and self-doubt._ > "You're cool just because you're cool. And when you're around the community that recognizes and fosters that? Well, that's pretty fucking cool – and it's something that the rest of the world doesn't get." > — **Author**, Final reflection > _Distills the essay's ultimate message: intrinsic worth and community acceptance as the primary value of pinball culture._ ### Entities | Name | Type | Context | |------|------|---------| | Ben Granger | person | Legendary Minneapolis/Twin Cities pinball player who recently passed away; known for exceptional ball 3 retention and scoring ability; central to the author's emotional state and tournament motivation. | | Reboot | venue | Local pinball arcade in Minneapolis/Twin Cities area where the author played during the tournament described in the essay. | | Twin Cities pinball community | organization | Local pinball player group with Facebook presence; approximately 15-20 tournament participants with core of ~10 regulars; 80% male demographic. | | LITT pinball | venue | Local pinball venue mentioned in the essay as being located approximately one mile or two from where a significant political event occurred. | | Nudge Magazine | organization | Publication platform where this essay appears; author references 'Nudge Fame' in relation to a tournament opponent (JRI). | | Star Wars | game | Pinball machine on which the author scored 500 million points in first round tournament play, defeating opponent JRI. | | Venom | game | Pinball machine referenced as an example of casual tournament play among the Minneapolis pinball community. | | WPPR | organization | Pinball tournament ranking/sanctioning organization; author references 'WPPR farm tournaments' as community gathering excuse. | | Belles and Chimes | organization | Pinball league or organization mentioned as a community gathering format alongside weekly leagues and tournaments. | | JRI | person | Tournament opponent in Minneapolis pinball scene; defeated by author in first round with 500 million Star Wars score; associated with Nudge Magazine. | ### Topics - **Primary:** Community and social connection in pinball, Grief and loss in the pinball community, Tournament competition and performance psychology - **Secondary:** Mental health and pinball as meditative practice, Minneapolis/Twin Cities pinball scene, Political and social anxiety in modern context - **Mentioned:** Gender demographics in pinball ### Sentiment **Mixed** (0.55) — Essay begins in a melancholic, grief-stricken state with anxiety about performance and broader societal concerns. Transitions to profound appreciation and gratitude for community connection. Ends on a hopeful, affirming note about the value of shared human connection despite external darkness. The arc moves from despair to acceptance to gratitude. ### Signals - **[community_signal]** Minneapolis/Twin Cities pinball tournament scene shows consistent growth (15-20 average participants) with stable core group of ~10 regulars meeting regularly. (confidence: high) — Author states: 'These days we average 15-20 people at a tournament. It's not a crazy number of people – but it has been consistently growing since it started.' - **[community_signal]** Multiple deaths within the local pinball community (Ben Granger specifically named; Matt and Gigi referenced) are affecting player mental health and community dynamics. (confidence: medium) — Author states: 'Ben died. Matt died. Gigi died. And I'm going to be be real: it is really starting to get to me. I'm pretty sad these days, guys.' - **[community_signal]** Pinball community emphasized as providing authentic human connection, fraternity, and shared purpose that contrasts sharply with broader societal isolation and digital alienation. (confidence: high) — Author expresses this throughout, concluding: 'We have fraternity... In an age of digital obsolescence and division, it's literally the most valuable commodity in the world.' - **[sentiment_shift]** Author's perspective shifts from competitive achievement-oriented mindset to valuing community presence and human connection as primary benefit of pinball participation. (confidence: high) — Author describes initial competitive goal, poor performance, then realization: 'in five years I truly won't remember how I did tonight... but I'll remember that we were all here together' - **[gameplay_signal]** Author's tournament performance declined significantly due to grief, anxiety, and inability to concentrate, playing '10 second balls' and scoring poorly across multiple rounds. (confidence: high) — Author: 'I was playing 10 second balls, not concentrating. Getting mad and playing short. This wasn't how the story was supposed to go... By far my worst finish in this group in a long time – maybe ever.' - **[gameplay_signal]** Author distinguishes between solo casual pinball as meditative/transcendent mental health practice versus tournament play which induces nervousness, sadness, and irritation. (confidence: high) — Author explains: 'I play pinball every single day, usually by myself... I feel transcendent. But sometimes in these tournaments? I don't. I push. I get nervous.' --- ## Transcript The Worst Pinball I Ever Played I had this story written in my head before I plunged the first ball of our local tourney this week. As many of you know, over the holiday break, a legendary Minneapolis pinball player and homie passed away. Ben Granger was a lot of shit to a lot of people, but the main thing he was good at: Ball 3. For real. If you want some shits and giggles, go find the Twin Cities pinball group on facebook. It’s just people trading stories about how much Ben fucked their life up by keeping a ball 3 alive for a literal billion points on any game. And that’s what I thought I was gonna do tonight. Just like Ben. These days we average 15-20 people at a tournament. It’s not a crazy number of people – but it has been consistently growing since it started. At its core, though, its basically always the same people. The same ten guys always show up (and yes, for us it is almost always 80% men) and sorta duke it out. But when that keeps up for any length of time, something funny happens: you sorta start to become a part of each other’s lives. Everyone has these people, you know? Or a version of them. There’s the sassy old granny and the kid discovering weed for the first time and the square guy who tucks his shirt in but everyone likes him because he’s so frickin’ nice. It’s communal. Even a sometimes hard to like guy like me ends up asking about people’s kids, or what games they bought, or if they wanna smoke weed later or whatever, you know – the actual important shit You think you’re cool? But today I didn’t wanna do that. I wanted to win. I wanted to beat all these good nice polite pinballers who have only shown love to me because that would be some badass tribute to my friend. Right? LOL. It sounds stupid as I type it, but grief makes your brain stupid. So I put on my badass black boots that make me 6’6” and I listened to some hype up music and I smoked a J and I went down to Reboot and played the worst pinball I’ve ever played in my life. I couldn’t do anything I wanted. There was no flow. And you know why? Because I’m not some super human menace. I’m not a legend. I’m not Ben Granger. I’m a normal dude. And I’m feeling what all of us are feeling right now. Today, only a mile or two from LITT pinball, a literal human being was murdered by ICE agents in front of all of us on the internet. They’re doing this for real. If it feels oppressive, it’s because we’re being oppressed. We’re living in hell. That’s a heavy weight that all of us live with every single day. Part of the reason I’m writing this in a pinball blog now is because I want a record of this moment. It’s starting to feel like 1930s Germany. But also beyond the general psychic malaise and the occultic darkness of our Gov: I miss my friends. Ben died. Matt died. Gigi died. And I’m going to be be real: it is really starting to get to me. I’m pretty sad these days, guys. So today when I played my first game and beat out my buddy JRI of Nudge Fame to get 500 million on Star Wars in a well fought first round win, i was like nice. Here we go. I’m persevering in the moment. This is my story. I get to be the hero today. Uh oh, here comes trouble But then I took fourth place in the next game. And a three on the next. And then another three. I was playing 10 second balls, not concentrating. Getting mad and playing short. This wasn’t how the story was supposed to go. With only six total rounds, I ended up taking maybe ONE more second place? By far my worst finish in this group in a long time – maybe ever. But here’s something weird: during the second to last round I truly started to look around and see all the people talking and laughing and drinking. And I was like shit, in five years I truly won’t remember how I did tonight, I might not even remember some of these people, but I’ll remember that we were all here together and playing and just doing it together – you know? When people talk about community, a lot of times it’s bullshit marketing buzzword stuff. But we pinball people are lucky – we get to experience real community. Belles and Chimes, weekly leagues, even WPPR farm tournaments – they’re all ultimately an excuse to hang out together. Sure, competition is important. It’s maybe the MOST important thing to most of us, but when you swim in the same water, you all end up smelling the same. That’s not a phrase, but maybe now it will be. God bless us, every ball The point being, is that I was watching everyone and being like damn, truly this IS what it’s all about. Not to be lame, but it felt like that scene at the VERY end of A Christmas Carol when Scrooge throws the nice party and sees all the people who he sorta resented start to melt his heart. Even Tiny Tim, who lived. I play pinball every single day, usually by myself. And when I do, it’s a meditative exercise. It’s needed for my mental health. I’m in flow state in those moments, I feel transcendent. I feel like a real pinball player. But sometimes in these tournaments? I don’t. I push. I get nervous. I get sad about my friends or the world. I get irritated at myself. I become human. And when i’m reminded that I’m human, sometimes it pisses me off. But what I learned tonight is that there’s another side of being human. Sure, you’re fallible and you might play like shit – but you still have worth outside of your accomplishments. You’re cool just because you’re cool. And when you’re around the community that recognizes and fosters that? Well, that’s pretty fucking cool – and it’s something that the rest of the world doesn’t get. We have fraternity, like dominic torretto would say, “we’re family.” In an age of digital obsolescence and division, it’s literally the most valuable commodity in the world. Well, that and tokens, and you know what? I came away with BOTH tonight in spades. The world might be tough, but god damn it we have each other. And when you’re feeling down, or you don’t wanna keep going, it’s a good reminder to get your ass down to the arcade. See people. Laugh at their dumb ass jokes. Play them in Venom. In this old world, with the government being like it is and corporations stacking the decks against us every day, we need each other. We need to remember what’s important about this shit in the first place. The people. None of us are here for that long, so God damn it, we playing pinball. G’night. God Bless Us Every Ball. _(Acquisition: raw_text, Enrichment: v3)_ --- *Exported from Journalist Tool on 2026-04-13 | Item ID: 4dee2c74-6ec3-4f56-bfbb-38c1b1f04c33*