Russians have a thing for chess and,
frankly, are very good at it. Being from
San Diego, I thought chess was something
you put photo albums in.
Playing Chess
Playing chess requires thinking ten or
twelve steps ahead. If I wanted to understand
the Russian mind, I had to learn to play
chess. If nothing else, it would be a
good way to pass the time. This I was
told by Robert, an American living in
the same town as me.
I wasn’t particularly excited about learning,
but gave in one day after growing tired
of staring out the window. I had seen
the movie, “Searching for Bobby Fisher”.
What more could I possibly need? How hard
could it be?
After beginning the game, Robert took
pity on me after I apparently made some
moves that were questionable. He explained
why he was making particular moves and
the resulting implications for my king.
The game proceeded slowly while he explained
strategies to his inattentive student.
Then the magic moment occurred.
I imagine every teacher suffers from
the occasional embarrassment of being
outdone by a student. I like to call it
beginner’s luck and invoke the empirical
evidence at horse racing tracks and Las
Vegas casinos. If you’re a first timer,
you will always win. It doesn’t matter
if you’re betting on a horse because of
the color scheme or hitting on black jack
while already holding 19 in your hand.
It just happens.
With our chess game, Robert had made
a particular move and was in the process
of explaining it. I sat staring at the
board and thinking deep thoughts, which
is to say I was wondering what was for
dinner, etc. Just then, I noticed something
on the board, moved my rook and declared,
“Checkmate!”
Robert stared at the board. Then he started
laughing. Then he wanted to play again.
Being a good sport, I immediately announced
my retirement as a chess player.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t leave my victory
alone and gloated to a few people about
it. Make no mistake, Robert would beat
me a million times if we played a million
games, but you have to live in the moment!
Within a few days, karma struck and I
began to pay for my gloating. People would
start showing up at my apartment with
chessboards and, of course, vodka. The
games were so laughably one-sided it was
ridiculous. Typically, I would make two
moves and then hear “Sah!” which I believe
meant “check!” in Russian.
My humiliation occurred more or less
every day for roughly a month. Some of
the victorious would even come back for
a second pounding. Finally, I had to take
the dramatic step of refusing to answer
the door.
In the end, I set the game of chess back
a few hundred years and Robert had his
vengeance.
This article was posted on October
30, 2005
