My
father had a beautiful mind. He could work math problems in his head
like it was nothing, play cards and usually tell you what you had in
your hand (a gift from his dad) and he could play chess, a strategy gift that I recently discovered he passed on to me.
I
have secretly had a mental love/hate relationship with the game of
chess. When I was younger, maybe eight or nine, a kid that was over at
our house beat me (with the help of an adult! Gangin’ up on me!)
horribly in chess. I only knew how the pieces moved, and just barely.
That game still haunts me. I vowed to never play that game again.
As
the years went by though, I noticed that I had a higher level of
respect for those that could play the game and play it well, my father,
of course, being one of them (my brother also plays). I even dated a guy
that liked to play. He played my dad a couple of times and I remember
how impressed I was as I sat there and watched them, not fully
understanding the thought process that went into the game. They
stalemated their first game. (My memory is that of an elephant’s)
Anytime anyone asked if I played, I immediately got nervous and would mumble, “No... no. I wish I
could, but I can’t.” (The difference between “Can’t” and “Won’t” coming
soon!) Thinking about playing chess made me feel stupid - moronic,
even. I assumed I could never and would never understand the game. The
strategy was beyond me. *cue dramatic eye roll and dismissive hand
gesture*
Several
months ago, I learned of a co-worker at the Public Library that plays
chess regularly and is, in fact, quite good - notably so. The stories
that patrons and co-workers would weave about him were intriguing to me.
Is he that good? He seemed nice enough, but many made it sound like he
was a beast on the board and the thought of it made me want to duck my
head and run for cover.
Eventually, I mentioned to a couple close co-workers/friends that I might want
to learn to play. Slowly.... very slowly, I would learn. They would
tell me, “Oh, ask N* to teach you! He would be the one!” Yeah. I knew
they would say that. I cringed inwardly and secretly wondered if there
was a lesser known player that would be willing to teach me. Or a book.
I
found a book while working one day, called Portable Chess Coach by
Judee Shipman (great find/read, btw, if anyone is interested!). The
Chess Genius happened to be walking by when I found it and I blurted
out, “Hey look what I found!” (while mentally running and hiding) He
looked through it and, lo and behold, it was a good beginner’s guide! I
told Chess Genius I might play him one day when I learned a bit more
about the game. He seemed encouraging enough.
One day...
So,
like, four months later (ha!) I had just barely cracked this book open
(I still have it checked out - I need to just dish out the money to buy
my own copy) and I get up the courage to 1. download the Chess With
Friends application on my phone and 2. Initiate a chess duel with Chess
Genius. NO, I was not drinking, thank you very much.
I
lost that game. And about a couple dozen more games that very same
week. But by game two I realized 1. I’m not that horrible at it and 2.
Chess Genius really was genius - his teaching techniques are subtle,
similar to my own when I teach dance.
Now,
a little over a month after that first game, I have found a new love
that is quickly rivaling my love for dance, shockingly enough! I always
wanted to learn but wasn’t sure if I would catch on and the thought of
actually playing terrified me, but how much can you really learn from a
book? Again, similar to dance - you just have to TRY it. Get up and go.
Go hard or go the hell home!
Chess
is constantly compared to life. I have found that chess, like life, is
revealing to yourself. I have made the same mistakes on the board as I
have in life. We’ll always make mistakes in life and no one is perfect
on the board, not even Chess Genius, who I have dubbed Cheebo, the Chess
Deebo, his bully alter ego coming out of him as he schools relentlessly
on the board.
It was never that I couldn’t play chess, it’s that I wouldn’t. I
didn’t believe enough in myself, in my mental capabilities, to just try
it. I don’t want to get out there and compete necessarily, I just want
to play. I want to play because I enjoy it. Not to win (though yes, my
first checkmate was thrilling!), but to gain more knowledge on myself.
My vision is clearer. I see my path. I see the board.
To
N (*name withheld), Chess Genius, Cheebo, BlakkDynamite, Chess Coach
Extraordinaire (if you’re reading this) - A heartfelt thank you for
being an amazing coach and putting up with my own mental frustrations
with myself. You’re helping me to carry out and pass along what my
father gave me, something that no one can take away from me - the
ability to be a freethinker, a mental rebel.
“I play my enemies like a game of chess....” ~ Lauryn Hill
(This blog entry has not been fully edited. My apologies)
