Tetris

Nothing has shaped my personality like the leftmost bookmark on my Chrome favourites bar - Tetris. Others look to their idols, religious manuscripts or even their favourite superheroes for guidance. I look to coloured blocks because, as a veteran of the game, I view Tetris as a most accurate representation of life.

In Tetris, things don’t always go to plan. Whether it be through a brief loss of concentration or untimely slip of the finger, the emergence of a few block misalignments is unavoidable. When I mistakenly over-rotate the T-block, cursing in frustration or attempting to implement cheat codes does no good; the only way to remove the gap is to optimally utilise the pieces that come next.

Early in my 10th grade debating season, I was dropped from the team after delivering a sub-par performance. Despite the temptation to blame my coach or bad luck, I focused on personal improvement. The simple actions of watching international competitions and senior debates slowly began addressing my weaknesses. This solution-oriented approach paid dividends as I was restored to the line-up that ultimately topped the state.

Like the shapes of forthcoming Tetris pieces, our circumstances in life are often beyond our control. As a child, I frequently worried about matters that were, in dad’s words, “none of my business”. Before soccer matches, I would grimace upon seeing the opposition’s best player, intimidated before the game even began. Before debates, I would complain about the difficulty of the topic, failing to acknowledge that every debater had the same challenge. Before exams, I would pray for an easy test, rather than have confidence in how much I had learned. Tetris reminded me that the most important goal when performing any task was to focus solely on the keyboard’s arrows; adapt, improvise and overcome.

Tetris exposed the futility of trying to control the uncontrollable. Instead, I needed to focus on what I could control: training to become a better player, researching unfamiliar topic areas, and preparing meticulously for exams. It no longer matters if the next contest is expected to be a cakewalk or a monumental challenge because the only real target is to speak better, score higher or play harder than ever before. My personal bests were achieved when I stopped blaming the pieces I received, and started focusing on the best possible ways to arrange them.

In Tetris, it is never too late to halt the growth of the pile. While mistakes derail our progress, they do not result in immediate defeat. Most people struggle to combat the chaos caused by the first error, but the best players, like my friend Josh, always manage to restore order. The secret, he says, is to take risks but retain composure amid in-game adversity.

Tetris champions like Josh taught me that it is never too late to pursue my goals. At 14, I was told that I wasn’t good enough to play for my local soccer club. To stop the blocks from piling up, I started to arrive at training an hour early. I decided to analyse players like Philipp Lahm and John Terry, aiming to replicate their distribution in attack and tactical awareness in defence. Above all, I never lost patience and belief in the fact that I would improve. Slowly but surely, the blocks started disappearing. One row at a time. And just two years later, I was playing in Australia’s highest division of youth soccer.

Life, like Tetris, is about balance. While I will receive unparalleled opportunities to develop as an athlete, student and person at an American university, I will also encounter cultural challenges as an international student. As in Tetris, I know that I must balance passion with poise, strategy with spontaneity and meticulous preparation with the willingness to adapt my plans in order to flourish outside of my comfort zone.

The blocks won’t stop falling. It’s my job to make them fit.