Quidditch is stupid

I’m reading the Harry Potter series to Elysha and the kids. We’re enjoying it very much. One of our favourite parts of the day.

See what I did there?

But quidditch – the game played by Harry Potter and others on broomsticks – is stupid.

Two things make this game stupid:

First, the scoring is moronic.

Teams score 10 points for every quaffle (ball) thrown through one of the opponent’s three hoops. These hoops are defended by the opposing team’s Keeper, who tries to block the quaffle from passing through the hoops.

Quidditch’s version of a soccer goalie.

Meanwhile, a player known as the Seeker attempts to catch the Golden Snitch, a small, magically-enhanced ball the approximate size of a walnut. The Snitch zips through the field of play, making it hard to see and even harder to catch. But catching the Golden Snitch ends the game and awards 150 points to the team whose Seeker has caught it.

150 points in a game where most teams never score nearly that many points.

Thus for a vast majority of quidditch matches, all other scoring is irrelevant because the 150 points scored by the Seeker is almost always more than enough to win the game. Only if a team has scored 15 or more goals than their opponent will their scoring ever be relevant.

While it’s possible to win a quidditch game without catching the Golden Snitch, it rarely happens.

Which makes the scoring system very stupid.

In the real life adaptation of quidditch, played all over the world, the Seeker only scores 30 points for catching the Golden Snitch, which seems to be an acknowledgment that 150 points is just stupid.

Then again, the Golden Snitch in a real life game is a tennis ball, stuffed inside a long sock, hanging from the shorts of an impartial official dressed in yellow, so maybe it’s just easier to catch, too.

And decidedly less dramatic.

In 2018, Rowling responded to complaints that the scoring system was rubbish (see what I did there?) with this tweet:

“It makes total sense. There’s glamour in chasing an elusive lucky break, but teamwork and persistence can still win the day. Everyone’s vulnerable to blows of fate and obstructive people, and success means rising above them. Quidditch is the human condition. You’re welcome.”

Nice try, Joanne. Still makes no sense.

Second, the brooms that players ride are not equal. Rather than standardizing the broomsticks to create a level playing field, quidditch players can purchase their own brooms, meaning wealthier players can afford significantly faster brooms, giving them a distinct advantage over their opponents and turning quidditch into a game of have and have nots.

Why?

Why not simply standardize brooms and create a game where everyone has a fair chance at playing regardless of their means?

This is also stupid.

Does this make the entire game of quidditch stupid?

Kind of.

If the result of a team sport rests solely on the ability of one player to find and catch a tiny golden ball while six other teammates risk life and limb on scoring meaningless points, then yes, the sport is kind of stupid.

And if the wealthier players possess a significant “technological” advantage over the less fortunate players, allowing them to score more easily and win more often, then yes again.

The sport is kind of stupid.

Does this ruin the books for me? Of course not.

Rather than envisioning an author creating a stupid sport for her novels, I instead envision the wizarding world creating a stupid sport. It’s not JK Rowling’s fault that quidditch is stupid. It’s the people in Harry Potter’s world who invented the stupid game.

Therefore it’s just part of the story.

Human beings imbued with magical powers play just one sport (which is also bizarre), and that single sport is kind of stupid.

Harry Potter’s wizarding world has quidditch.

We have the Electoral College. Candy Crush. Mayonnaise.

Not everything we design makes sense.