Chapter Twenty-nine: Learning Checkmate
Shortly after I started my second year of high school as a recycled freshman, my stepfather called me into his study for a "talk." Usually, these discussions were extended rants over my crappy grades, my poor work ethic, or unfinished household chores.
Richard was a man with an unusual background. He had started life as a Southern Baptist preacher and circuit rider. Inadequate or non-existent roads forced him to travel by mule to visit congregations too poor to afford a settled minister. His route took him deep into the heart of Appalachia along the eastern borders of Kentucky and Tennessee.
Richard went on to become a Unitarian minister. Unitarians and Southern Baptist occupy opposite ends of the religious spectrum. Along the way, Richard studied at Harvard University and mastered Hebrew, Greek, and Aramaic to read the scriptures in their original written languages. The more Richard studied and the more he learned, the more his personal theology evolved.
When people would ask him how he made the transition from Southern Baptist to Unitarian his answer was always the same: "It was easy. I just kept growing."
I was surprised to see Richard, my stepfather, sitting at the coffee table in front of a checkers board in the corner of the study. Richard motioned me to take a seat in the chair across from him.
As I took my seat, Richard smiled at me and said, "Starting today, you are going to learn how to play chess."
"Huh?" was my response. I had assumed I was about to be yelled at for some transgression, poor grades, or missed chore. I never expected to be enrolled into an involuntary betterment program. I believed I was ready for anything, but I was wrong. Learning how to play chess was not an item on any of my to-do lists.
Seeing the look of confusion on my face, Richard repeated himself, "I’m going to teach you how to play chess, and your first lesson starts now."
As the full-time minister of a rapidly growing church, Richard was a very busy man. I was baffled as to why he would take time out of his schedule to teach me how to play chess. Wouldn't it be a better investment of his time translating the Dead Sea Scrolls or something?
"I'm not smart enough to play chess," I protested.
"That's bull!" Richard said with a smile. Then the smile drained from his face as he looked me in the eye and said, "Dennis, you are not stupid, and you know it! You only pretend to be stupid," he said with a tone of voice which closed to door to any argument.
"It's about time you use your head for something else besides a hat rack," Richard said as he leaned forward and gave the top of my head a rap with his knuckles that left my ears ringing.
"You have talents and abilities that you refuse to use. Learning to play chess will force you to think logically and to plan your moves. In chess, as in life, every move you make has direct consequences.
"You and I are going to be playing a lot of chess. You will report to my study every day, without exception, and we will play chess for at least one hour a day," Richard explained.
"How long will I’ve to play chess?" I asked fearful of the answer.
"Until you can beat me three games in a row," Richard replied as he arranged chess pieces on the coffee table next to the chessboard.
"Chess is called the game of kings because once upon a time only nobility played the game," Richard told me.
"The only way you can win the game of kings is by thinking like a king. I’m going to teach you how to be a king, but first, let me introduce you to your army," Richard said as he picked up a small playing piece.
"This little fellow is a pawn. Pawns are amazing guys. They are the weakest and most abundant members of your army. They may not be very powerful, but every pawn carries within themselves the seeds of greatness.
If this runt reaches the opposite side of the board and gets to the eighth row, then he must be promoted to any other piece except for the king or another pawn.
"Pawns are your loyal soldiers, and they can never retreat. They can only move forward and can only attack forward and to the side," Richard stated as he handed me a pawn to examine.
"And this guy is your king, and he's immortal and can never be killed or captured. When a king is under attack, you say, 'check' and if you are unable to block the attack, and the king has no safe place to move its 'checkmate,' and the game is over. You have won!
"Kings are the most important piece, but they are also the weakest game piece on the board. They can move one square in any direction. The king is also a fighter, and he can capture another piece as long as the move does not put him in check.
Richard patiently explained each piece's personality, which was his name for each piece's movement rules.
Rooks were powerful but clumsy and could only move vertically or horizontally. Bishops were religious fanatics, and they could only move diagonally, had to remain committed to their faith, and could not stray from their starting color for the duration of the game.
Knights were sneaky bastards and could jump over pieces to make their attack.
The queen was the most powerful defender of the realm and could move in any direction she pleased.
We spent the first hour of chess class learning how the five different kinds of pieces moved and time passed quickly once I got over my resentment at being held hostage.
The second day I tried to forget my chess lesson, but at two o'clock sharp I got the call to report to his study. I could run, but I could not hide. We launched directly into gameplay.
My playing was pitiful. I moved pieces without rhyme or reason. I moved my pieces to undefended squares and watched as Richard blasted them out of existence when it was his turn to play. I didn't know what I was doing, and the results showed it as my army evaporated before my eyes. The game ended in a shattering checkmate,
There was no break at the end of the game as we switched colors and began again. Richard quoted Mother Jones to me and said, "Pray for the dead and fight like hell for the living. It's your turn,"
He critiqued me at every turn. He told me why a play was right or wrong, but he never let me take a move back.
"In chess, as in life, when you make a move you are stuck with the results. Just remember the carpenter's golden rule, measure twice and cut once," he chuckled.
As we played, one game after another, the third session passed quickly. Despite myself, I was starting to enjoy playing. Getting trounced got my competitive juices flowing. I hated losing, and I was determined to turn the tables on the old man.
Within a few weeks of play, I was still losing every game, but he had to fight harder and harder to beat me. Within three months, the margin of victory was becoming razor thin. I nearly won several games and had him on the ropes in at least a dozen games. However, I still lost.
Then the unimaginable happened after about five months of play. I won my first game. I then promptly lost the next seven games.
Over the next few months, I was able to expand my winning streak to two games in a row but try as I might I could not seal the deal with a third victory.
In desperation, as much as from frustration, I joined the Mt. Wachusett Chess Club as a junior member. If I was going to play the game of nerds, then total immersion in the world of nerds was my only option.
So far, the only person I had faced across a chessboard had been my stepfather. We were becoming used to each other's style of play, and I figured I might learn a few tricks to help me beat him.
The chess club had about 80 members, of which 25-30 usually showed up for the weekly meetings. Each member had a chess rating, with the best players achieving the highest rating.
I played several games a week at the chess club against a range of players. As I gained experience, my chess rating began to improve. The numbers prove it - I'm becoming a better chess player.
On March 2, 1964, I got a chance to watch Bobby Fisher, a future Grand Master of chess play a simultaneous exhibition at the Wachusett Chess Club in Fitchburg. The event was held in the Dillon Room, the main function hall of my stepfather's church. People from all over New England packed the playing area.
Bobby Fisher was a tall, lanky man and was only five years older than I was and at the age 21, he had a bad case of the pimples. I got a chance to shake the hand of a very annoyed chess master. It was evident he did not care much for crowds or young kids.
Over the next few hours, I watched as Bobby Fischer played 56 boards. He lost five games.
Fisher charged $15 a board and raked in about $840 for a single night's work. I was stunned that anyone could make a damn good living moving chess pieces around a board.
It was mostly an adult only event, and there was only one other kid my age. I jostled to and fro by adults shoving and elbowing their way to the front to get a clear view of Bobby Fisher.
Unfortunately, my proximity to a chess master did not improve my play. I still lost.
At the next meeting of the chess club, I got tips from a senior player named Carl Thomas. His advice changed my fortunes.
"You need to develop your pieces. Get them into play quickly because they do you no good sitting behind a line of pawns," Carl instructed.
"You keep making the same mistake over and over again. An easily countered move is a wasted move because it gives your opponent a chance to develop yet another piece as he chases you around the board," Carl explained.
"The other fundamental thing you are doing wrong is that you have the habit of blocking yourself in and preventing yourself from developing your pieces. Keep lines of attack and movement open," Carl said.
Armed with new knowledge and Carl's advice I engaged Richard on the field of battle and promptly won our next two games. The tension was as high as any seventh game of the World Series as we prepared to play our third game.
I maneuvered my pieces for a deadly attack on his king, and my Knight delivered the fatal blow on the 27th move. I had done it! I had finally won three games in a row.
Richard studied the board and congratulated me. "Well played. I never saw that coming. I taught you everything I knew about chess and, damn it, you went out and learned even more," he said with a grin and a wink as he shook my hand.