- Feb 5, 2002
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My boyhood summers – when there was still such a thing as boyhood – were in large part spent in Montana and N. Wyoming, running like a brown animal, riding bare-back, swimming, biking, and going to minor league ballgames with my grandfather.
My grandfather was bridge builder and bridge player, both, literally. He had a superb memory, being able to recite long poems of Robert Service and chapters of the Bible, with cool, keen, inventive, tactical mind for games. He was good at what he did, whether it was building massive bridges in the mountains or pasting people at the bridge table… or teaching his grandson how to play chess.
A few years after my learning the basis, came 1972 and the Match of the Century: Fischer v. Spassky in Iceland for the World Championship.
Every day I was so wrapped with excitement about the match’s progress that I nearly vibrated until I saw the morning newspaper’s account of the most recent game and… its notation. Of course I had to play them through. More than once, sunshine and bicycles be damned.
I played chess hard for quite some time, in tournaments and other venues. Eventually, as one does, I slipped away into other things that drew the vast majority of my energy and time.
Chess is pulling me back in.
Continued below.
Searching for Bobby Fischer's search for the Catholic Church
My grandfather was bridge builder and bridge player, both, literally. He had a superb memory, being able to recite long poems of Robert Service and chapters of the Bible, with cool, keen, inventive, tactical mind for games. He was good at what he did, whether it was building massive bridges in the mountains or pasting people at the bridge table… or teaching his grandson how to play chess.
A few years after my learning the basis, came 1972 and the Match of the Century: Fischer v. Spassky in Iceland for the World Championship.
Every day I was so wrapped with excitement about the match’s progress that I nearly vibrated until I saw the morning newspaper’s account of the most recent game and… its notation. Of course I had to play them through. More than once, sunshine and bicycles be damned.
I played chess hard for quite some time, in tournaments and other venues. Eventually, as one does, I slipped away into other things that drew the vast majority of my energy and time.
Chess is pulling me back in.
Continued below.
Searching for Bobby Fischer's search for the Catholic Church
