The second pull

An original literary non-fiction-style account of organising a friendly tug-of-war at a family gathering.

I had announced the teams with the confidence of someone who had never organised anything more complicated than a picnic blanket. People on the left would pull against people on the right. The arrangement looked impartial because I had not chosen anyone by name. I handed the whistle to my cousin and took my place at the rope.

The first pull was over before several people had settled their feet. Our side cheered. Across the grass, my younger nephew was still holding his arms in the position where the rope had been. A woman on the other team began counting us. We had one more person, she said, and most of the larger adults.

I replied that everybody had been free to stand wherever they liked. Even as I said it, I remembered how the group had formed. The children had waited together near the drinks table. The older cousins had gathered around me to ask about the game. My neat division had kept both groups almost exactly as they were.

Someone proposed swapping the smallest child for the tallest adult. The child shook his head. He wanted to stay beside his sister. We put down the rope and asked who wanted another turn. Two people preferred to watch. The remaining players changed places, while the siblings stayed together. This time, we counted and discussed the teams before anyone lifted the rope.

The next pull lasted longer. I cannot claim that we had produced perfectly equal sides. We had, at least, stopped treating the positions people happened to occupy as proof that the arrangement was fair. When my cousin asked which result she should write on the picnic score sheet, I told her to start with the second game.

Explain why the narrator asks for only the second game to be recorded.