Thursday, 26 March 2009
For The Man Who Plays To Win
Here we see Ron and Jean. They met four years ago in a post office queue in Chipping Sodbury. It was a long queue, time passed slowly, and inevitably they started chatting about chess. Three stamps, four parcels and a special delivery later, and Jean found herself back at Ron’s flat admiring his pawn collection. Since this first meeting they have become chess buddies, pals, friends even, and now, every Monday evening, they get together to thrash out tactics. Jean fancies Ron something rotten and because of this she has read and absorbed 16 books on chess [including Tarrasch’s Best Games Of Chess by Fred Reinfeld] and has subscribed to British Chess Magazine Monthly. Ron likes Jean; she’s very good at chess. And she knows how to castle.
Jean has been waiting four years for Ron to take advantage of her, and during this time her imagination has wallowed in a series of romantic scenarios, which include: feeding the penguins together at London Zoo; Llama trekking in Devon; taking the camper van to Clacton; a wedding; a honeymoon; a mortgage; children… A RING. Her patience is wearing thin. She leans forward and licks her lips, there is all to play for.
Ron has been waiting fourteen minutes for Jean to take her turn and during this time he is has been wondering if it was wise to take her Knight with his Queen and whether he really needs to keep playing safe with his rook.
It’s Jean’s move, so she goes in for the kill, she starts kissing Ron’s bishop and fingering her king. Ron is beginning to feel feverish as he realises that within two moves Jean could have him in check-mate unless he does something pretty smartish. Oh dear. But Ron is an experienced player; he always plays to win, and he has seen Jean’s tactic deployed many times before; luckily he has garnered a few sneaky moves of his own. For a brief moment he leaves the game so that he can drench himself in Hai Karate, an aftershave designed to repel all kinds of female advancement. The effect is instant; Jean is overpowered by the stench of cheap scent and as she fights for breath she knocks the chessboard into the air, sending the rooks and pawns scattering across the tiled table top. Poor Jean, it was so nearly check-mate, but she has been forced to concede defeat. This time.