If Sun Tsu Played Chess, (what did not make it into the book!)
June 30th 2008 22:42
Baptism of Chess
When Allen was a preteen, his parents would take him to New York City’s Washington Square Park during the summer months. He would see the Washington Square Arch of course, but that was not the focus of his attention. Nor were the other wonderful sights and sounds the park offered. The highlight was when he finally reached the southwestern corner of the park.
The object of his fascination was a wonderful place caught between the green trees of the park and the large brick buildings located across the street. This place seemed to be an amalgamation of these two contrary images, nature verses civilization. In this place, there were hard wooden benches with flaking green paint which were situated on opposite sides of a green concrete table that held two competitors who were feverishly locked in a battle of wills. These gladiators fought on a black and white checked battlefield. Exotic appearing carved figures effortlessly slid over an eight-by-eight tiled board, and instantly responded to the every whim of their skilled handlers.
Between movements on the board, a hand would reach out with lightning speed and slam a button down on what Allen would later learn was a Fischer Clock (aptly named after its famous inventor Bobby Fischer whom also played in this same park, but many years before Allen’s visits). Pieces and pawns were removed from the battlefield to lie helplessly by, and seemed to look physically and psychologically decimated as they fell victim to the strategies of each opponent’s movements. Then the coup de grace would come, “check… click… check…click…MATE!” There was one winner and one loser, that simple. There was no gray area on the black and white battlefield.
Many times money would be passed from one player to the other after a game was completed. Allen would later learn that some of these players were actually hustlers that earned a meager living off of playing unsuspecting tourists.
When Allen became a teenager he was allowed to venture to the park on his own. After watching several of these battles unfold, Allen noticed that they would begin and end in similar manners. Allen began making mental maps of the unfolding course of events. Eventually, he was able to predict, with good accuracy, what would occur. Allen thought to himself that he could play one of these hustlers and win, and in so doing gain some extra financing for his candy addiction.
One fateful day Allen simply could not contain it any longer. He stepped up to the table with his monthly allowance of five dollars held tightly in his sweaty hand. Placing it on the table he said in a vacillating tone that only a puberty stricken teenage boy could, “I wanna play”. Allen’s opponent was a black man that he had seen playing here for years. He had a slightly graying beard, which betrayed his age and years of harsh living on the street. Every time Allen saw him he wore the same blue hooded sweater, which only slightly concealed his dreadlock-styled hair.
The man said in a kind yet powerful tone, “You want to play for money boy?” Allen did not hesitate to say yes. Allen was confident that he could beat his opponent, even though he had never actually played a game of chess before in his life. This little fact would come back to bite him in just a few minutes. They both sat down and the man allowed Allen to play as white since this was Allen’s first game with him and Allen was a “paying customer”.
Allen opened with standard e2-e4, and his opponent answered with the usual e7-e5. This is all Allen would really remember about the game. He essentially pushed pawns forward without any consideration to the actual pawn structure, and he naively placed pieces in obvious places of danger without any good reason to do so. Allen would later wonder how this game would have turned out if he were a stronger player.
The reality is, there was no way of knowing how things “might” have been, because the trick these hustlers were masters of was to match the opposition’s playing and make it seem as though it was a close game, while winning by only a slim margin. This was a technique designed to get the tourist or amateur player to put the money on the table again. After the match, Allen headed toward the Village Chess Shop to price chess sets and see what books where available on chess strategy. He was determined not to lose like that ever again.
When Allen was a preteen, his parents would take him to New York City’s Washington Square Park during the summer months. He would see the Washington Square Arch of course, but that was not the focus of his attention. Nor were the other wonderful sights and sounds the park offered. The highlight was when he finally reached the southwestern corner of the park.
The object of his fascination was a wonderful place caught between the green trees of the park and the large brick buildings located across the street. This place seemed to be an amalgamation of these two contrary images, nature verses civilization. In this place, there were hard wooden benches with flaking green paint which were situated on opposite sides of a green concrete table that held two competitors who were feverishly locked in a battle of wills. These gladiators fought on a black and white checked battlefield. Exotic appearing carved figures effortlessly slid over an eight-by-eight tiled board, and instantly responded to the every whim of their skilled handlers.
Many times money would be passed from one player to the other after a game was completed. Allen would later learn that some of these players were actually hustlers that earned a meager living off of playing unsuspecting tourists.
One fateful day Allen simply could not contain it any longer. He stepped up to the table with his monthly allowance of five dollars held tightly in his sweaty hand. Placing it on the table he said in a vacillating tone that only a puberty stricken teenage boy could, “I wanna play”. Allen’s opponent was a black man that he had seen playing here for years. He had a slightly graying beard, which betrayed his age and years of harsh living on the street. Every time Allen saw him he wore the same blue hooded sweater, which only slightly concealed his dreadlock-styled hair.
The man said in a kind yet powerful tone, “You want to play for money boy?” Allen did not hesitate to say yes. Allen was confident that he could beat his opponent, even though he had never actually played a game of chess before in his life. This little fact would come back to bite him in just a few minutes. They both sat down and the man allowed Allen to play as white since this was Allen’s first game with him and Allen was a “paying customer”.
Allen opened with standard e2-e4, and his opponent answered with the usual e7-e5. This is all Allen would really remember about the game. He essentially pushed pawns forward without any consideration to the actual pawn structure, and he naively placed pieces in obvious places of danger without any good reason to do so. Allen would later wonder how this game would have turned out if he were a stronger player.
The reality is, there was no way of knowing how things “might” have been, because the trick these hustlers were masters of was to match the opposition’s playing and make it seem as though it was a close game, while winning by only a slim margin. This was a technique designed to get the tourist or amateur player to put the money on the table again. After the match, Allen headed toward the Village Chess Shop to price chess sets and see what books where available on chess strategy. He was determined not to lose like that ever again.
Chess Game Blue Board
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