Zoom Schwartz

A drinking game—but WTF?

There are things that stick in my brain from my drinking days whether I like it or not. Having spent my formative junior high and high school years in the St. Louis area, one of those things I’ll never forget is the Budweiser promise—stamped on every bottle and can—and a rite of passage for kids in that area. I can literally say it in my sleep some fifty years later.

"This is the famous Budweiser beer. We know of no brand produced by any other brewer which costs so much to brew and age. Our exclusive Beechwood Aging produces a taste, a smoothness and drinkability you will find in no other beer at any price."

Another thing is the extended name of my favorite college drinking game.

Zoom Schwartz Profigliano Eschman Ocheski Groid Hegeman Comenici Nadia Bozite, and Kowalsky.

Each game has its own language. This game is about language—words—that each hold a different command. It is a hard game. You end up drinking a lot to play.

I first learned this game nearly fifty years ago. I was apparently impressionable at that tender age of sixteen or seventeen.

The game’s origins are somewhat muddy. Claims come from as early as Towson State in 1914. Kelly Weaverling, a former Navy submariner who claimed the game originated by the submarine crew he worked with. Kelly taught the game to the technical students at Ventura College in 1971. University of California, Davis lays claim to the first table of Zoom Schwartz—or “The Game” as many practitioners refer to it historically.

The authors of the above “official” rule book claim to be part of the Varsity Beverage Team at a private boy’s school outside Cleveland.

Whatever the truth, it made its way across many college campuses over the mid-20th Century. I learned it at SMU in the late seventies. A group of us were taught by a classmate and fraternity brother who shared a name with one of the game’s commands. Jay Hegeman, Hegeman being the 7th command in sequence depending upon which version you played. Wait…come to think of it we did have a dude in our circle—Chris Abood—who hailed from a private boy’s school in the Cleveland area and went back there to be an executive for the Cleveland Clinic. Maybe he was to blame for the Zoom Schwartz explosion in our group. I’m pretty sure that neither of those guys claim the achievement in their LinkedIn profiles.

We only played with the eleven commands shown above, although other afficionados played with more or less commands. Either way, copious glasses of beer were involved. If you played with anything stronger you were quickly unable to continue the game due to inebriation. Beer was most appropriate.

A minimum of four players was required, although you could play with as many as fit around a table. We played often on a long, rectangular picnic-style table that allowed for up to ten players. Physical proximity was essential as many of the commands involved direct eye contact as well as understanding who was beside you to each side, across from you, and in front of you.

I happened to be good at it. I was quick-thinking, a master of the feint, and also had a very high tolerance for alcohol, which helped—or hurt—me in my progression towards professional drinker and alcoholic.

Zoom Schwartz was way more entertaining—and required quite a bit more actual thinking—than say beer pong or some of the other dumbass college drinking games I’ve seen.

Without getting too deep into the red Solo cups—the signature game pieces to allow for quick refills from the nearby keg and to prevent glass breakage in later stages—the rules are pretty simple. Each call determines a pass from one to another of the “it,” meaning you’re now it. The Zoomer started the game as the last person to lose. The Zoomer started always by saying Zoom! and looking directly at someone else. That person then had to pick instantaneously from the rest of the commands to pass it left, right, across, around, and through the group. The “it” had to know where they were sending the “it” and the recipient had to understand that they’d just been tagged with “it.” Even a small pause was a foul. A huge rookie mistake was to Zoom! a Zoomer. If you wanted to throw the “it” right back at the person who just Zoomed you, you said Schwartz!. And on it went—generally not for very long—until someone fucked up and had to drink.

Starting the Game:

Zoom – This call passes play to whoever the caller was looking at when the word is called out. You could always try to trip people up by quickly switching your gaze after you’re done making the call.

Schwartz – This call passes play right back to whoever called them. You must look at them when making this pass.

Profigliano – This also passes play right back to whoever called them. This is a no-look pass so you must NOT look at them while making this pass.

The other non-consecutive “names” or calls indicate some other direction of your pass of the “it.” To the left…to the right…and back and forth…and all around until everyone is lit and can’t remember how to play. But the damn eleven names are cemented forever.

Fouls:

If any fouls are committed the player that committed the foul loses the game. They drink and start the next round.

• Speaking out of turn

• Saying the same word a player just said to send it right back to them

• Looking at the receiving player during a Profigliano call

• Looking away from the receiving player during a Schwartz call

I can’t tell you how many people I’ve queried over the decades about Zoom Schwartz. Few know it. I’d be curious if you do.

---

I’d be curious what sticks in your brain from your youth that you’d just as soon forget if given the choice.

For me it’s random things that somehow make sense.

Childhood addresses and phone numbers from when we had to memorize them.

Sports statistics from baseball cards.

Maps of certain areas.

Song lyrics.

Things my father said.

Enjoy your Father’s Day weekend. I get to see my Pop turn ninety this month. Not every son gets that privilege.