Over the past two decades, I have played thousands upon thousands of cribbage games, the overwhelming majority of them against my pops. At this point in our lives, cribbage has become the most agreeable way we can relate to each other, a 20-minute sanctuary where hard topics like politics, my life goals and aspirations, and his memory losses become comfortingly irrelevant. All that matters is pegs in a board. My pops taught me the arcane rules of cribbage when I was around ten years old, and I have done my best to spread the gospel ever since. This task is something of an uphill battle given the popular consensus that cribbage is an “old man’s game.” At my age, at least, a good cribbage partner can be hard to find. Most people (unless they, too, were taught by their father or mother or uncle or grandad) shy away from the laundry list of rules, the three different stages of the game, and the unfamiliar board on which the score is kept. The game is most frequently played between two …