“Las Pedras” — The Greatest (and Dumbest) Game Ever Invented
Ah, childhood. A time of innocence, curiosity, and absolutely terrible judgment. Now, most kids grew up playing tag, hopscotch, or stickball. But us? Nah. We had “Las Pedras.”
Yes, The Rocks.
Before you go calling Child Protective Services retroactively, let me explain — this wasn’t just some chaotic free-for-all where we chucked rocks at each other like tiny gladiators with no future plans. No, no. This was an organized game. With rules. We were civilized savages.
It was basically hide and seek, but with the added thrill of being hunted like prey… by kids wielding projectiles. We didn’t just throw rocks — we strategically launched them. Some kids had a great arm. Others had stealth. Me? I was somewhere between a ninja and a baseball pitcher with a moral gray area.
We played in vacant lots, behind houses, in cane fields — anywhere we could hide and, ideally, not hit someone’s abuela in the process. You’d hide, wait in silence, heart pounding, and then—BOOM! A rock whizzes by your ear like a warning from the universe: You’ve made bad choices.
But we had rules, okay?
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No headshots (which, of course, were the most common shots).
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No giant rocks. (Unless you really didn’t like the kid that day.)
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And if someone yelled “¡PARA!” you had to stop throwing... unless you didn’t hear it, which was everyone’s excuse.
We were mostly lucky. A few bruises, a scraped knee, maybe the occasional dramatic retelling of how someone “almost lost an eye” (which, looking back, was terrifyingly plausible). But no one died, and more importantly — no one told our parents.
Because you better believe if your mom found out you were playing "The Rocks", she would’ve shown you what a real rock fight looked like — only her rock would’ve been a chancleta flying at Mach 3.
To this day, I’d never tell my kids or grandkids, “Why don’t you go outside and play Rocks?” No way. They’d come back with a lawsuit and an Instagram story. But back in the 60s and 70s, growing up Cuban meant inventing games out of whatever you had — even if all you had were some friends, a little boredom, and a whole lotta rocks.
And you know what?
It was the most fun I’ve ever had dodging blunt-force trauma.
Want me to turn this into a short skit, comic, or animation script? Or keep the stories coming?
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