Chess

Since I was around six-years-old I've been playing chess.  There was a period of time where I didn't play much because I had no one with whom to play it.  This was in the period before the internet allowed people to play each other in the ether.  I never played correspondence chess because I had knew no one and wasn't much into networking even at an early age.

Himself taught me the game.  He has a set of very heavy pieces that he keeps in a closet somewhere that he'd take out every so often and we'd play.  He'd teach me the rudiments of the game and then he'd beat me.  I didn't care at first that I lost because I was getting hooked on the game.  Eventually, though, I wanted to beat him, as much out of competitive drive as for other reasons.  After about the thirty-sixth time I finally beat him, and he never played me again.

I should have joined the chess club.  When I was eleven the famous Fischer-Spassky match was held in Reyjkavik, Iceland.  It's hard to imagine now the idea that eleven-year-olds could be captivated watching a chess match on black and white television, but I wasn't alone in my fascination.  Of course, I didn't understand all the political ramifications.  I was simply interested in grandmasters playing this game I had only recently learned to play.

In law school, I played a friend who boasted that he was pretty good at the game.  I was so hungry to play that I agreed, wondering if I would get my butt kicked.  I think we played about fifteen games all told and he never beat me.  He couldn't figure out why he couldn't beat me; I couldn't figure out why he thought he was that good.

The internet opened a new phenomenon to me:  Trash talking.  I found a gaming site called Pimpernel and played people from all over the world.  I learned to play blitz chess, two minute games with five seconds added to my time upon each move, and I held my own.  Sometimes, I got my butt kicked. Other times, I pulled off surprising upsets, given our rankings on the site.  But what amused and annoyed me was the trash talking that would begin as soon as the first move was made.

You're going down.  I'm going to kick your ass.  This should be easy.

I don't remember Fischer or Spassky talking this much.

I played against the computer and surprised myself a couple of times by beating it.  If I played well I chalked up a victory of the moral variety.  When I played poorly the losses got larger.

I have a couple of chess sets.  I bought a beautiful chessboard with inlaid wood in La Alhambra, Spain and chess pieces to fit the squares in Florence, Italy.  I have some other sets that are pure wood, more pedestrian but just as nice.  I detest those sets with Civil War figures or, worse yet, Disney or Star Wars characters.  I also don't care for crystal or jade pieces.  Just give me a good Staunton set and I'm happy.

I've never joined a chess club.  I should probably have joined the chess club in high school, but I hadn't come to grips with my inner nerd yet.  I doubt I would have been very good; competent, yes, but certainly not on the road to being a grandmaster.

There is a certain beauty to chess, a symmetry that somehow speaks to my mind.  I don't have the intellectual power to compete with Deep Blue like Kasparov did.  I can't think fourteen moves ahead like the greats can.  But chess has been likened to war on a board with sixty-four squares.  Given my penchant for all things military, this attracts me and keeps me interested.  I suppose if I let it, chess could take over my life as it did with several players.  But I prefer to play chess for fun, challenging myself to get better but only to the point that I'm competitive against anyone who's not a grandmaster.

Lately, I've tried to find good books on the history of the game and its major players.  Games written by former champions that are designed to teach players the game don't do much for me.  I've never been able to memorize openings or remember exactly what moves were made in the Immortal Game -- I can't even remember who played in it, frankly.  I'm a seriously interested casual player, and I'll leave it at that.

Besides, I can't figure checkers out.  Go figure.

(c) 2013 The Truxton Spangler Chronicles