|
|||||
|
|
|||||
|
Chessville
Advertise to Single insert:
|
Chess Fiction
Chess Wedding Reception
The letter contained these words:
I looked at the moves on the score sheet. I wonder who recorded them. I didn’t. I know Jack didn’t. Of course, Jack has a photographic memory and could have written them down later. Anyway, the following is not what I sent to Dunkelstein. I wrote all of that first, then sent Dunkelstein a much abbreviated version. I wanted to keep a long version for myself because I had the memories and they are a bit important to me. In regard to the condensed version [that I will send to Harvey] I am certain that he will chop out a lot of material. And so I did want to have my own more complete account. # # # Master Jack Foistercrown was a former child chess prodigy at age seven, of the small town of South Bedford, and now [well, five years back from as I write this] he is the five-state region’s undisputed top chess player at the age of twenty-three. And me, who am I? Yes, I should introduce myself before I get too far along. John T. Pravos, ghostwriter of chess books, low-level chess master, low-level artist, humble musician, and average magician who frequents at children’s birthday parties, as well as parties for the above-seventy crowd. Yes, I do a lot; yet it seems I am rather mediocre at all I do… amateur of many things, master of none… well, low end master at chess. Didn’t my Aunt Elaine keep warning me, “Young Mister Pravos, you better find yourself one activity that you can focus in on and then master it; otherwise you’ll find out that one day you will be able to do a great many things, but do none of them well enough to where someone will want to hire you.” Yes, perhaps Aunt Elaine was right. Even when it comes to writing I have trouble staying focused, as you can see. Well, at least you know a little about Master Jack and a little about me. And now we move back in time to the year 2002… to a warm sunny day in August…. Oh… I should mention that I was twenty-six at the time… just two years older than Jack. And you should probably know our chess ratings. At the time, Jack was rated 2650 and I was rated 2245. # # # On the morning of his wedding day I met Jack at his modest home on Cheshire Street. He wanted me to skip the wedding and head directly over to the reception hall. I was to take chess sets, clocks, and ten pre-autographed copies of his How to Win with the Foistercrown Variation of the Ruy Lopez. Those books were to be offered as prizes for the top finishers of his wedding reception chess tournament. Jack said, “It’s all there on the living room floor. I didn’t have time to put any of it in boxes. I’ve got to run. I’ve been known to stand Jennifer up before because of chess engagements… but I can’t do it today. Just be sure you lock up. Sorry you’re missing the wedding… I really appreciate your sacrifice.” We shook hands and he left. As I put the green and white roll-up sets in boxes and the chess clocks and books in another I could not help but look at the wallpapering Jack had done. Covers from Chess Life magazine pasted to the wall, from floor to ceiling, from one end of the wall to the other…. around the entire living room. I thought it looked kind of neat… but then, I’m a chess player. There were shelves over-crowded with trophies. And there were bookcases packed with chess books… books of all sizes and colors… books on openings, middle games, endgames, strategy, tactics, game collections… hundreds of books. And I saw a section which held several copies of each of the four he had written:
How I Won the South Bedford Chess Club Championship at age Seven
How to Win with the Foistercrown Variation of the Ruy Lopez
My One Hundred Best Games of Chess
The Yellow Brick Road to Chess Glory Those last two books had no forward by Dunkelstein, reportedly because Foistercrown put three of Dunkelstein’s losses in the Best Games book, with heavy annotation that made Harvey look pretty bad. For example, on page twenty-three, for game ten (Foistercrown-Dunkelstein), move eight we read:
Also, Jack neglected to mention that Dunkelstein had won four of their encounters and that they had twenty draws between them. Jack had stated to Dunkelstein, “This is a book of my best games. Those losses to you were amongst my worst, so why would I mention them? They were played when I was moving off of the Sicilian lines and back over to double-king pawn defenses. So why don’t you just chill-out and cut a guy some slack?” Dunkelstein was both hurt and insulted; and their friendship ended the very day that Harvey saw his dreadfully annotated games in the proof copy. Though I had written more than twenty chess books (as a ghostwriter), I was only involved with one of Jack’s, The Yellow Brick Road to Chess Glory. Not only was I the illustrator of the many pictures, including the cover, I was also Jack’s first and last ghostwriter. The book was completely Jack’s idea, of course… and it was his games and notes and outline that made the book easy for me to write. The book became one of the top chess books of its day, appealing to young and old alike who felt that they, akin to a chess playing Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, could leave a somewhat bland chess world for a magical higher level chess world beyond… that they could reach sort of an Emerald City of chess knowledge. Chapter 1 – What will you do now that the twister is coming? was very dynamic. There was a picture of a whirlwind full of hundreds of chess books with opening names often visible. And… well it was clever. And my idea was clever too, the idea that the first part of the book should be in black and white, and then, after the first five chapters, everything would go to color. And it wasn’t a gimmick. I was proof of that. I gained 150 points while working on that book. Ah… enough of those memories…. time to move on. I finished packing and putting the boxes on the back seat of my very compact, gas-conscious car. I went back and checked the house door; then got in the car and backed out past the two-foot long horizontal hollow rook that Jack used for a mailbox. # # # When I got to South Bedford I stopped at a fast food place for a sandwich and a cup of coffee. I looked at the distant hills and the tree colors softened by that distance. I could barely make out Our Lady of the Lake, but I could see it. It was a small church that held Jennifer and Jake and their family and friends. It was a blessing, perhaps, that I was not there… how could I watch the lovely Jennifer, the girl of my dreams marry Jack? I threw the rest of my sandwich over a wire fence, then took my cup of coffee and headed off for my destination at the far end of Gambol’s Creek. From time to time there had been reports of a large hairy creature, Gambol’s Bigfoot, the Creature of Gambol’s Creek, the Bigfoot of South Bedford, different names for the same thing… an unproven beast roaming around the valley. My own theory was that it was Jack, just wondering around after a long lasting chess exhibition. Just kidding, of course. Maybe there was a Bigfoot and I was being silly to make fun of it. Maybe it could jump out and get me… maybe it could put me out of my misery? I could picture the front page of the next day’s South Bedford Chronicle, Sunday Edition, both its headline and how the article would start:
But no strange creature attacked me; and my imaginary newspaper article evaporated back into the nothingness from which it came. # # # I spent an hour in the hotel. I talked briefly with guests and workers, but spent most of the time setting up a row of chess tables in the back of the reception hall. I had to number the boards, set the clocks, put up pairings for round one, tack up the blank result sheets… and I had to remove the little plastic newlyweds from the checkered wedding cake and replace them with cream colored King and Queen chess-pieces. I had objected, of course; but Master Jack believed that everyone would find it funny and cute. He also told me that if it upset Jennifer we’d just put the traditional figures back. After I finished the setup I stepped outside into the fresh August country air. The black and white checkered cab was just arriving. It was trailing ropes and cans and a white cardboard sign of “JUST MARRIED” and another one of “I STILL LOVE CHESS.” Master Jack stepped out from the cab. He was wearing a suit of black and white squares. On the back of the suit there was an eight-by-eight set of sixty four Velcro squares, framed in black, waiting for pieces to be set. Jack handed two small polyurethane bags to me… each contained a complete set of circular Velcro chess pieces. “Here John, set these up on the back of my suit. Then you can go ahead and make the first move.” Jennifer was standing there in a traditional wedding dress. “Jack, are you sure you don’t want to change into that pin-stripe suit my dad brought for you? Lots of people are talking about this one. It’s not proper. It mocks our wedding.” Jack laughed. “Mocks our wedding? Come on Jen. It’s not like I was wearing the chess pieces during the ceremony. Besides, we’ve been over this before. Our wedding is about love. And you love me… and, well… I love chess.” Jennifer said, “Is that it? You love chess? What about me?” He replied, “Well, yes – that goes without saying.” And it went without saying. He turned and looked at me. “How’s that setup coming along?” “It’s going okay… almost done with the white pieces.” “Did you get everything inside set up for the tournament like I wanted?” “Yes, Jack.” Jennifer looked at me and forced a smile. The situation was a bit awkward, for she knew that I was always crazy about her. Yes, Aunt Elaine would have said, In addition to a career choice, you should also focus on a nice girl someday. Oh, and Jennifer was that girl… fantastic in every way but one. She did have one terrible flaw that could not be overlooked. She loved Jack…. Or, at least, she thought she did. Jennifer spoke to me. Her voice was amazing. “How have you been, John?” I felt like melting into the ground… or blowing away with autumn leaves. Following a short pause, I recovered from the effects of Jennifer’s wonderful voice. “Oh, fine thanks.” And after another pause I added, “I must say you look fantastic.” “Thank you.” She looked at Jack, then at me. “So, what do you think of all this chess stuff, John? Do you think it should have been left out of the wedding and the reception?” Not wanting to experience the wrath of Jack or Jennifer I elected a neutral answer. “Well, Jennifer, I will say it is very unusual. But, if it is the theme you two want to go with to sort of commemorate Jack’s position in the great game… well, I have no problems with it.” “But would you have had such a wedding?” “Me? No. But then, chess is not my life… just a part of it.” Others were gathering around. Jennifer’s parents walked over. Her dad saw me adding the pieces to Jack’s suit and shook his head. “What kind of nonsense do we have now?” Jack snapped back, “No disrespect, Sir… But you wouldn’t recognize nonsense if it jumped up and bit you in the butt.” Jack actually used a more profound word that had the women blush. Jennifer’s dad frowned. “Come on Jen. Let’s go inside and chat a bit with your mother while Master Jack gets silly chess pieces added to his ugly suit.” Jennifer said, “Jack! You apologize to dad. Your remark was uncalled for.” Jack said, “Oh… but it’s okay for him to call my suit ugly! Let me say that this family is far too serious…. way overboard when it comes to being serious. But, let me be the man here. Let me be the one to step up to the plate and say, I’m sorry and that I apologize if I’ve upset anyone’s feelings.” He hesitated then added, “Mister Vorg, are we still okay?” Jennifer’s dad said, “I’m okay… as for you… I’m afraid you never were quite right.” Mr. Vorg turned and walked towards the hotel. Jack shook his head. “Imagine that… here I am being hospitable and the man insults me a second time.” Jennifer patted Jack on the shoulder. “That’s just dad’s way of getting back. You started it with your comment about nonsense biting him. Just let it go.” She gave him a quick kiss and went inside. I finished adding the thirty-two Velcro pieces and then said, “Okay, I’ll move c4.” I repositioned the white c-pawn. Jack said, “Great! I don’t get to play against the English Opening very often. Move my pawn to e5.” “Okay…. It’s done.” And now I realized c4 was a mistake. It was bad because this was a group game and most players were king-pawn people. I should have played e4. But, it likely did not matter. Master Jack’s idea was to go around to all the chess players and have each one make a move for White. He was playing without site of the board. He would memorize the position while partying and drinking and dancing. And he’d even manage to remember it while playing in the five-round ten-minute speed game Swiss event in the back of the reception hall. Later he would, of course win this suit-jacket game, giving a brief illusion that he defeated thirty or so players. But it was an illusion because it would be a few bad players who would set disaster in stone for the rest of us. # # # Time had passed and I found myself sitting at table seventeen with Jim Calhoun and his wife (Nancy); Bob Taylor and his girlfriend (Ann); and then next to me, a vacant seat for a possible guest that I could have invited… had she existed… or had she not been the one getting married today. Everyone seemed to be making small talk when Master Jack went up to the microphone. “Could I have your attention?” There was the sound of microphone squelch. He waited for it to pass then continued. “We will be having round one of our five-round Swiss event starting in fifteen minutes. After that we will have the reception dinner.” At this point the DJ was playing Donovan’s Jennifer Juniper song. I heard the instruments… fantastic melody. And then the lyrics, Is she sleeping?, I don’t think so… I was thinking of the Jennifer here… the lovely Jennifer that married Jack. As I was daydreaming I was nudged by Karl Spargo. He was another guest with no companion. He was a skinny man with big glasses and a balding head. I had heard that he loved to cause trouble; but I did not know the man aside from that one comment. So, not knowing him, I expected no trouble from him.
Spargo’s nudging broke me out of the comfort of Donovan’s masterpiece. “Huh?” I said. A bit surprised. Karl extended a hand. “Hi. I’m Karl Spargo. I heard you are a ghostwriter for chess books.” “Yes. John Pravos. It’s nice to meet you. What do you do?” He sat in the empty seat next to me. “The pleasure is all mine, I’m sure. And I don’t mean to be cliché. I really mean it. Well, I’m a writer too. I write sit-coms. I get my ideas from real life. I’m hoping to get something here… tonight.” I remembered thinking that if squirrels evolved and became people, they’d look like Spargo. I said, “So, you think you could have a sit-com about a chess wedding reception?” “Yes, what do you think?” I replied, “Chess is not a main stream activity. Not even close. It might be like having a checkers theme, or bridge, or tidily winks. It might work… but, I imagine you could only milk it for a few minutes at most.”
Karl nodded. “But what if we spiced it up a bit?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s chess. Do you have enough ingredients to spice it up?” Karl smiled. “I think I might have found some… some real gold!” He laughed. “Of course, just as when a miner would find a line of gold, he’d have to dig a little to get it. Or shake the pan in the stream. That’s what I’m doing now… trying to get some of the gold nuggets.” I asked, “So, how much have you had to drink?” Spargo laughed, “That’s funny… really. But let me tell you John, even if I had zero drinks tonight… there’s gold in them there hills… And I’m about to find it… a real mother lode!” I shrugged. “I don’t follow you. Have you found something here… something about one of the guests?” Squirrelly Karl looked about and scratched his chin. He did not answer me. “Let me ask you a couple of simple questions.” He looked about; then asked in a whisper, “Have you written any of Master Jack’s books for him? I mean, as his ghostwriter? I understand he has four books.” “Sorry Karl. I never say who I have, or haven’t written for. That’s always confidential. And I can’t come out and say no, because that would result in process of elimination… because I couldn’t say no for all chess writers. You understand… right?” The squirrel of a man nodded. “Understood… I’d expect no other answer from a gentleman. But, I had to ask. Now, how about this question: Have you ever played chess with Master Jack?” I sipped some of the champagne. “This is pretty good. Yes, I’ve played Jack five or six times.” “Did you ever beat him?” “Yes. Once. The last game we ever played.” “Really? Well, that’s quite an accomplishment. How’d you manage that?” “I played a French Defense and Jack had a better position the entire game. He was always on the verge of getting me… but I was able to hold my position together… just barely. And it seemed that he had just built up enough pressure to win when I looked over and saw that his time was up. So I pointed to the clock and said, Time. And that was my win. I was very lucky. But, it was just a time win.” Karl laughed. “Still, it counts. So, that’s great. Really great. How’d Jack take it?” I replied, “Oh, wow. Jack was mad. He threw the clock against the wall and it sort of exploded. He knocked the table over. He screamed and yelled… It was amazing. I decided never to play chess with him again after that emotional outbreak.” Jack was walking by when Karl the squirrel jumped up and grabbed him by the sleeve. “So, I hear that John writes all your chess books and that he can use the French Defense to kick your hind end and make you cry like a little baby. He says you rant and rave and throw chess clocks like some five-year old brat.” I went into shock and gasped. “What the…?” Jack’s very short fuse burnt to completion and KABOOM! He yelled at me. “How dare you say such things! How dare you! “But I….” “No excuses! None! I don’t want to hear it!” “But I didn’t…” “Shut up! Just shut up!” He knocked everything off of table seventeen. “We’re going to play a game here and now! We’ll see who makes who cry!” Mr. Vorg, the Priest and several others came over. Mr. Vorg was the first to speak. “Whoa Jack. Calm down. What’s the problem here? Let’s see if there’s a civilized solution.” Jack was still excited and furious. “John has been telling people that he beats me at chess! He says that I rant and rave! And he told them he’s my ghostwriter! It’s terrible! It’s inexcusable!” Jennifer gave me a harsh look. “John! Why on Earth would you say such things?” “I didn’t. I didn’t say any of that.” Jack shook his head. “Sure! Like we’re supposed to believe that! Well how would Sprago know about the clock getting thrown against the wall! and the ghostwriting! and the loss to the French Defense? A stupid time loss to what must have obviously been a defective clock!” Spargo said, “Too bad you destroyed the evidence.” Jack looked at him and raised a fist. Karl ran off to hide. I tried to defend myself. “Jack… Jennifer… believe me, this is all out of context and very distorted… and…” Jack yelled again. “You’re darn right it’s distorted! And I’m going to un-distort it here and now!” He yelled over to some people by the chess tables. “Bring one of those sets over here! And bring a couple extra Queens for when I promote my pawns!” I felt terrible and week at the knees. “Look… I’m just going to leave. I can tell you the truth about this some other time. There’s no point in having this dark cloud hang about your wedding reception.” The Priest said, “Yes. I think that might be best for us all. This should be a happy, festive occasion and this young man’s suggestion that he leave is simple, and should put an end to further escalation.” He looked upward. “Holy Father, please forgive those here who have transgressed thy laws and please descend upon us, the peace, love and tranquility… the happiness and joy that we should be experiencing on this blessed occasion. Amen.” He made the sign of the cross, as did Jennifer and her parents and several others. I was heading towards the exit when I was suddenly grabbed by Jack. He spun me around to face him. “Oh, no,” he said, “don’t expect to get off that easy. You will play! You will play now!” “I can’t, Jack. It’s not fair to Jennifer. It’s not fair to your guests. If you want to punish me on the chess board, fine. But not tonight.” I once again headed for the door. And, to my surprise, I made it outside the hotel. The evening air was cool. The first stars were showing. Off in the distance I heard a strange animal sound. Bigfoot? As I was unlocking my car door a hand went on my shoulder and startled me. It was Mr. Vorg and Father Bob, the priest. “That was a very nice prayer Father. I trust it is working?” Father Bob shrugged. “I don’t know. Apparently the Lord wants us to experience a confrontation.” “I don’t understand.” “You need to go back in there and play a game with Jack.” “What? That’s a terrible idea.” Mr. Vorg said, “John, here’s what happened when you left. Jack went into the kitchen and said that unless we got you back in there he’d throw all the food on the floor and that there would be no dinner.” “Can’t you call hotel security?” Vorg said, “Listen. Jennifer isn’t staying married to Jack. We’re having this wedding annulled. Play Jack and keep him distracted. Mrs. Vorg, Jennifer and I will then quietly leave.” “This entire thing is crazy. I think I should just go.” Jack appeared at the hotel entrance. “Well John! Are you coming! Are you coming, you stinking coward!” Father Bob said, “Please John. At least pacify the beast so the guests can eat.” “Okay.” # # # Jack had made an eight by eight grid out of duct tape and put drinking glasses on squares where pieces would be. Inside the glasses he had put the pieces. “What’s this about? Why aren’t we playing with a regular board?” Jack laughed. “Because we’re going to put wine in these glasses. My side, with the White pieces, will have white wine, or champagne if you prefer. And your pieces will have red wine. When you capture a pawn or piece you have to drink the wine.” “I don’t like that idea.” “Then don’t capture pieces. It’s that simple. Now go to the bar and get the drinks. Get two bottles of each. Do it; or I’ll go back in the kitchen and start throwing food.” “Okay, Jack.” Now, here is where I decided to cheat. I had the bartender pour non-alcoholic imitation wine into two empty bottles that earlier had real white wine. To ensure the favor, as well as the man’s sworn silence, I handed him an Andrew Jackson. I returned with the bottles and Jack and I poured the contents into the glasses… but each only about one-third full. The bottoms of the dark pieces, which I had, were virtually impossible to see when they were bathing in red wine… but at least their exposed tops were recognizable. The white pieces, on the other hand, looked larger and brighter. The Game
Foistercrown, J. (2650) vs. Pravos, J (2245)
I had won the game. And here Master Jack knocked over all the pieces and started screaming and screaming. And this even before he realized the Jennifer had walked out of his life. I went to the restroom again and afterwards enjoyed some roast beef, potatoes, buttered-biscuit, and a piece of ginger flavored back and white checkered wedding cake with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on the side. I washed it down with hot black coffee. As I was leaving Karl Spargo came up to me. “See. I told you there was gold. Jack is still running around yelling and crying.” I replied, sarcastically, “Yes. Thanks for brightening up all our lives.” He laughed. “You’re okay John. You’re an okay guy. Say… listen. I’m not really a sit-com writer. No. I’m a librarian. Yes… a librarian. And I have no excitement in my life. Day after day, every day of my life it is, “Sir, where are the history books? Or Sir, where are the romance novels? You get what I mean. So, I try to make life more exciting. Sorry if I’ve messed things up for you.” “You shouldn’t have lied like that.” “Yes. Yes, I know. Sorry… but there was much truth in my statements.” He walked off. # # # Later, after I had left the hotel and was getting into my car, I heard some gravel crunching behind me. I turned in time to see a very angry Jack. And I also saw a raised folding-chair. It was coming down at my head. # # # Some time had passed, to be sure. That was my first awareness. I heard a doctor say, “RLAS, GSA, our monitors and general observation indicate that John is still in MCS after three weeks. But we have administered zolpidem and we have reason to believe he will be returning to a normal state of consciousness soon.” And then I heard the young lady. It was Jennifer. She sounded very concerned as she asked, “RL GS MCS what? In English please. And what is zolpidem? I just want to know if he’s going to come out of this and be okay.” “Sorry. The staff and I use those terms frequently. GCS is the Glasgow Coma Scale. We use fifteen parameters to determine the severity of neurological trauma. RLAS is simply another measurement, but more complex. The most important factor in what I’ve stated is the aspect of MCS. That stands for minimally conscious state. MCS is related to coma; but MCS patients exhibit brief periods of awareness of themselves and their environment. For example with John, he has spoken your name, talked about how lovely and wonderful you are. And he has responded to questions we’ve asked him. We know that he pictures himself being locked inside a black metal building that is shaped like a comma. That is interesting because what has happened is that he is aware of his coma-like state, and his mind, to deal with it, has given the coma a tangible form… a large comma.” Jennifer said, “His eyes are shut. Cant’ we just open them so he can see us?” “No. His mind will not process optic signals. Now let me address your zolpidem question. Zolpidem is a non-benzodiazepine hypnotic that reacts with an inhibitory neurotransmitter. It is most often used to induce sleep; but interestingly we have several examples, mostly in Britain, of zolpidem being used to wake comatose patients.” Jennifer’s conversation with the doctor continued for a whil | ||||
