I called her the Commissioner. In her left hand, she had a credit card to purchase video games; in her right hand, she had a fist full of discipline. When playing games, I had to control my emotions and make good decisions, or she would come down on me like a hammer on an anvil. She was my mother, and without her I would not be the gamer I am now.

The Commissioner blossomed during my early obsession with Madden NFL Football on the PC. I joined my father (head coach of the Buffalo Bills) and older brother (head coach of the Oakland Raiders) in a competition for the Vince Lombardi Trophy. I played with the Green Bay Packers. I was a decent coach who lead the Packers to the playoffs a few times.

When reacting to defeat, you can be the hero, realize your doom, close your eyes, and take the hit. Heroes have a good attitude on losing. They admit they tried their best, but their effort wasn't good enough.

I, on the other hand, did not have a good attitude.

When the opposing team got an interception, scored a touchdown, or picked up a fumble, I'd drop into a tangent: I'd puff up my cheeks, bang my fist on the computer desk, scream that the game is cheating, and yell that I'm about two minutes away from tossing the monitor out the window or at a wall. When I played games, I won -- there was no losing. 

When my mother designated herself The Commissioner, it was a joke to me and my opponents, but she took the role seriously. "If you don't know how to act," my mother would tell me, "I'll ban you from the game." During my four-year interest in football, I heard that warning many times. From what I remember, I only once came close to being banned from playing Madden NFL.

I now live by my mother's rule that if you can't handle losing you shouldn't play at all. I've since met many frustrations: the Coliseum Champion in The Elder Scrolls 4: Oblivion, the Magmen Boss in Dragon Quest 5, Krouser in Resident Evil 4. I either overcome the challenge after a short break, or never go back at all. That second option sounds like quitting, but I'd take quitting over whining and cussing at the game. It's a game; not a person. It won't talk back to you.

While my mother instilled dignity in me, she also taught me discipline. Every Wednesday night, we would cut an hour out of our evening to attend Bible Study. Our pastor lived five minutes down the road -- just a short walk. One Wednesday evening, I was playing The Legend of Zelda: A Link to the Past. I didn't want to lose my place in the game, so I had the clever idea to keep the game on pause. I would return after Bible Study with my adventure unimpeded.

My older brother discovered what I had done and immediately told our mother. She was not pleased. I never could understand what the big deal was; I just left the game on for one hour. Was I breaking the commandment, "Thou shalt not covet?" Was my mother really concerned about energy, the environment, the electric bill, and maybe even a possible fire in the house? Whatever the reason, my mother said I could play video games only during the weekend and on holidays.

I was nine when that happened. Afterwards, I followed that rule until my sophomore year in college. By then, however, I had so much school work to do that I didn't have time for video games during the week or on weekends.

But that's just the thing: I probably would have played video games every day instead of doing homework in high school and college. My GPA would have suffered; I would have no scholarship; my life would be terrible. Well, maybe not terrible. The reason I do well in college, have a strong discipline to do what needs to be done, and I don't always do what I want is because, in childhood, my  mother told me to prioritize what matters. I don't play video games unless I've completed everything that I have to do.

My mother taught me discipline and dignity: two things I apply as a gamer but also make me a better person.

How has your mother made an impact on your gaming?