Are you afraid of the dark pinball wizard

If that sounds odd, consider this: In 1988, pinball machines in locations across America took in $2,368,080,000 (according to Vending Times, an industry trade journal). I will easily pump $5 worth of quarters into a new machine, just to get to know it. I play in arcades, malls, airports, bars, pizza parlors, any place I see a machine. Now pinball is a part of my regular diet. I have calmed down considerably since then.

By playing pinball with my breath held, I imagined I was keeping the sinfulness out, the evil oxygen, the grimy soot that puts black spots on your soul. I held my breath most of the time, kind of like you do when you drive through a smelly place you try to keep the air out of your lungs because you know it is bad. And so I played my first game of pinball.

Some things Catholics just know intuitively. Joanne stood at the machine, and she kind of jiggled her hips, looking real good, real cool. There were boys in there, tough boys who smoked cigarettes. We went up to Kleins department store (a kind of K mart prototype) where there were five glowing machines in a dirty back room near the rear exit. So one day Joanne took me off to play pinball. Every activity was against your mother's wishes - which were the same as God's wishes, back then. It was all so dangerous! Any time you spent with Joanne you knew was automatically sinful time. I was in seventh grade with Joanne, the bad girl in our class, the kind of girl whose mom let her have boy-girl parties, hang out at the shopping center, and sip beer. More to the point: Why me? What am I doing in this bar, facing Hugh Hefner and all these babes? Why am I so drawn to pinball? The first time I saw a pinball machine I was afraid of it, thinking: That thing is evil. A guy culture of tough stuff, cigarettes, rock-and-roll, leather jackets. How could a small silver ball create an entire subculture? A culture that endures through generations. 'Pinball?' Like the people with the curled lips, I have begun to wonder about all of this. (Just five years ago, that figure was a measly 5 percent.) Pinball is a survivor. It now accounts for as much as 30 percent of arcade revenues. And then came the advent of video games, which nearly wiped pinball off the map. Pinball was outlawed in cities such as New York, Chicago and Los Angeles until as late as 1977. The coin-operated-machine industry is feeling especially satisfied: For a long time, it seemed pinball didn't stand a chance of surviving. In 1990, pinball will celebrate its 60th anniversary. It's like asking a kid, 'Why do you want to run away and join the circus?' The answer is very complicated. They'll say, 'Pinball?,' and they kind of curl their lips. I play when I'm feeling very happy, and can't contain my joy for living. I play pinball when I'm feeling very sad about my life, and can't cope. And when I do, I imagine myself a pinball wizard. I just work the flippers, cradle the ball, make my shots. I tend to ignore most of the stories, being a babe myself. 'Welcome to my party.' All pinball machines have stories that draw you in. The name of this machine is 'Playboy,' and on the back glass is a picture of Hugh Hefner, standing there with a bunch of good-looking babes. TWO BLOCKS AWAY FROM MY HOUSE, IN A DARK AND secret place, there sits a pinball machine.

What am I doing in this bar, facing Hugh Hefner and all these babes? The answer is very complicated.

Are you afraid of the dark pinball wizard