The Cartridge That Changed Everything
My childhood isn't full of playgrounds or playdates; it's full of a little black and yellow cartridge, a Game Boy Color, and a tiny red ball trying to catch a Pikachu. Pokémon Pinball was my first game, a 5th birthday present, and from that moment on, Pokémon wasn't just a hobby. It was my everything. It stitched itself into every part of my life—the good, the bad, and the messy. It's more than pixels and stats. It's a part of me, the part that’s unapologetically nostalgic, emotional, and kind of weird. And I'm good with that.
Honestly, I sucked at Pokémon Pinball. I was five—what do you expect? But that didn’t matter. The thrill of catching Sandshrew, the music blaring from that tinny speaker, and just the idea of being part of this bigger world, that was enough. Soon I had the cards too, even if I didn’t know what half of them did. Wild how little sense it made, but it felt big. Oh, and my favourite Pokémon? It’s Goodra. Something about being soft, gentle, and tough when it matters—that’s what Pokémon always was to me. A comforting old friend.
Helping my structure
ADHD had me trying to focus like I was wrangling a hyperactive Pachirisu. A losing battle. But Pokémon? It gave my brain somewhere to run to. All those type matchups, strategy, and saving for potions—it was structure that made the restlessness mean something. I remember trying to beat Clair in Pokémon Silver. Took me like 20 tries, but when I did it, it felt like beating more than just a Gym Leader. It was like I beat the voices in my head that said I couldn’t do it. Pokémon gave me something I was desperately missing: patience.
Then came Red. Mount Silver. My hands were shaking when I faced that Pikachu. I spent weeks grinding levels, and getting my team ready, and when I beat him, it was like I’d climbed my own mountain. If I could do that, maybe real life wasn’t so impossible. Funny how a screen full of coloured pixels can give you real courage, but it did.
Making friends
Pokémon made me friends. I was quiet, scared to say anything. But put a Game Boy in my hands and find another kid who liked Pokémon, and suddenly we had a connection. Trading Haunter to evolve into Gengar wasn’t just a trade; it was trust—a bond. We weren't just awkward kids; we were trainers on an adventure. I can still remember the cheer when Gengar appeared, the excitement that made me feel like I wasn’t alone, even if the moment seemed small to everyone else.
And it wasn't just one time. School was rough, but there was always that one kid with a link cable, ready to battle or trade. Pokémon was the bridge between my shyness and the rest of the world. Trading Kadabra, comparing secret bases in Ruby and Sapphire; it wasn’t just a game. It was a piece of us, shared and celebrated. For those moments, all the awkwardness disappeared, and it was just two kids with a love for something bigger than ourselves.
The fun begins
My obsession? It only grew. When Pokémon Diamond got announced, I was that kid refreshing PokemonElite2000 non-stop, chasing every leak. When I was 14, I imported Soul Silver from Japan because I couldn’t wait. I knew zero Japanese, but I learned enough—slowly, painfully—just to make it through. Soul Silver is still my favourite, and walking with my Pokémon, having them outside their ball, made it feel real. They weren't just data; they were companions.
I bawled at the last episode of Ash’s journey. Ugly, and loud, chest-heaving sobs. It felt like saying goodbye to a friend who’d been by my side my whole life. It hurt, but it was beautiful. Seeing Ash make it, after all those years, felt like we both grew up together. He taught me that the journey is more important than the destination. It's not about winning every battle; it's about learning, growing, and finding joy even when things are tough. That's the lesson I carry with me every day, reminding me to keep playing, keep exploring, and always stay curious.
Summer of '16
Remember the Pokémon Go summer? Everyone, even those who’d never cared about Pokémon were out catching Pidgeys and Rattatas. For a moment, the world felt different, connected. I remember running through town with friends, chasing a Snorlax, laughing until our stomachs hurt. It was like being a kid again, that excitement of tall grass and adventure waiting around the corner. Pure magic. It reminded me that Pokémon has always been about bringing people together, no matter who they are or where they came from.
Always a Trainer
I’ve grown up with Pokémon. From playground trades, late nights with my Nintendo DS, and chasing rare Pokémon in Go. It’s been with me through every move, every heartbreak, every awkward new beginning. It’s my constant, pushing me, comforting me, and reminding me that there’s always something wonderful just beyond the horizon.
Pokémon isn’t just nostalgia. It’s a companion, a teacher, a comfort. When I hear the original theme song, I'm that shy kid again, learning to connect, feeling part of something much bigger. It’s more than a game. It’s my story. It’s how I became me.
I might not have a real-life Pokédex, but I’ve got a heart packed full of memories. And whenever I feel lost, all I need to do is turn my cap backwards, take a deep breath, and remember, being a Pokémon trainer means always being ready for whatever comes next. Pokémon will be there, guiding me through, one more adventure at a time.