In Monopoly, Doc is spelled G-O-D.

If you are Doc and you’re reading this, I know you just got a blast of the blasphemous and you are feeling very uncomfortable with the title of this post. Forgive me Doc; I do know what I’m doing.

For those of you who haven’t had an opportunity to play Monopoly with Doc, I will tell you this: His skills are godlike. In the eleven years that I have known him, I have beaten him once at Monopoly. Once. If you know me at all you must also know that this makes me crazy. I don’t like to lose. I know how to lose graciously because I am a good sport. Please don’t mistake that for pleasure.

Mind you, Doc is the kindliest Monopoly player you’ll ever have the misfortune to tangle with. He never taunts you or screams “That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” when he gets a good roll. But if he agrees to deal with you: you’re screwed. And there’s something godlike in that, I believe.

Doc has this freaky aura of the predestined when he sits down to play this game. He is the one who wins. You are at his mercy. He’s in control of the game from the beginning. If you make a deal with him that seems like it will get you farther ahead in the game, it ends up cutting you off at the knees. Better to trust your luck on your own, play by the rules and make incremental progress.

Because he’s a nice guy, he usually doesn’t toy with you, but he could if he wanted to. He’s got the loopholes covered. It is a rare case when Doc, like the gods, ends up with the fuzzy end of the lollipop. It is usually the lowly human who is stuck tied to a rock being eaten by hawks, damned to wander the earth as a donkey, or doomed to lose against him in a game of chance. Don’t let those dimples and baby-blues fool you; inside all gods is an unbendable core of steel. Rather than try to work around them, it’s best to keep your eyes open, mind your p’s and q’s, and look for a chance to advance on your own.