There was a time long ago when we would get an old stick and draw a circle in the dirt or draw one with chalk on the threadbare upstairs carpet. Each of us had a small sack of glass marbles as we crouched down around the circle. We put several marbles inside the ring as a form of ante. The “shooter” would “knuckle down” and fire his best marble at the pile within the circle, holding the marble in his knuckles and using his thumb as propulsion. The goal was to hit a marble in the pile and send one or more rolling out of the circle, at which point the shooter claimed the marble(s) and shoots again. It takes longer to explain it than to do it.
My brothers and I played countless such games of marbles growing 
up. The marbles were given labels like clearies, cat-eyes, solids and the highly-prized steelies, usually nothing more than steel ball bearings, but here given a mystical status beyond mere industry. The loss of a prized marble was a source of angst; the winning of a rare type brought forth an odd euphoria, like discovering the Holy Grail.
The game of marbles is played the world over, under many different names and guises. It uses a common language which brings people together, like members of an exclusive club called The Human Race. So draw a ring, grab your special steely that never loses and knuckle down under a clear blue sky.
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