Growing up, my mother was called The Commissioner, and my father was simply Dad. She provided order while he provided minor amounts of chaos -- as well as the occasional education in gaming.

For my father, few objects that demanded greater respect than the joystick. He believed that it was an amazing invention, perfectly suited for extremely intense rounds of Madden NFL Football. My father, brother, and I loved playing games with them so much so that we actually destroyed more than a few over the years.

The abuse they endured wasn't so much because our football games were so heated, but because of our misguided ideas about the effect they had on our performance. It really doesn't take much effort to move a player down the field; a simple nudge will get him going, but I learned from my father that a little more force on the joystick can work wonders...sort of.

See, his favorite strategy in Madden was to position his linebacker between the center and guard right on top of the line of scrimmage. As soon as he saw the snap, he would jerk back on the joystick with as much force as his muscles would allow. When done correctly, his linebacker would slip right in to sack the quarterback.

This came at the expense of the joystick, which would be destroyed in the process.

My father's technique was the only justifiable reason for ever breaking one of these honored controllers. Anything else was overkill, and we were always supposed to treat the joysticks with the care they deserved. But one day, I decided that if I played more like my dad and put a little unnecessary roughness into my maneuvers, it would really give me the Madden edge I needed to finally beat him and my brother. 

I came up with a new strategy: If I could put my entire weight into my arm and through the joystick, I'd hit my opponent harder and dish out more pain than the game would normally allow. This idea soon caught on with my opponents as well, and we found ourselves battling out in some kind of football arms race. We knew that whoever was able to put more physical power into the controller had to be the winner.

Of course, it was all an illusion. Madden couldn't actually dish out more pain than the developer intended, no matter how much real-world strength any of us put behind our plays. Nevertheless, our unrelenting war ended up killing a controller every month or so. They went limp, they snapped in half, and we pulled out their wires after only a handful of games.

After burning through nine or so of them, we made the switch to regular control pads. Playing Madden was never the same, though. You can't put a lot of extra force on a button, which makes the competition less exciting. I'm also pretty sure that's the reason my father and I no longer play football video games together. We just can't do it without joysticks. It's simply not as fun.

I managed to form some great memories with my father over the course of our legendary Madden battles, but I also learned a few things: Namely, that it's a good idea to take care of your video games. They're more delicate than you think, and it only takes one misguided gamer to ruin the fun.

That being said, I'll never forget the strategic advantage you can get from adding in that extra little bit of unnecessary oomph. Sometimes, it's exactly what you need.