by Colby Sites
Gutsy move. He leads with the pawn, obviously trying to get his bishop out. Try and take me out in seven moves will you? There, now it’s impossible. Oh, going for the knight now are we? Hmm, the infinite possibilities of this match are narrowing, like the vision of someone hit in the temple too hard.
My name is Keith O’Bear. My nickname around these parts is Beary. A little cutesy, but I’ve grown to like it. I started off in this school not long ago and I’ve already gotten a reputation for being the best. Not at everything, of course. I’m sure there are many people able to physically maim me, even some of the girls, but I’ve never been beaten up. Were it not for my silver tongue and mind like a well-forged katana, I’m sure I would not have made it to where I am today—the top.
When people talk about the great figures of history, I mean the really great ones, whom do they talk about? Franklin, Edison, dead presidents, rulers of war-like kingdoms, God. What do all of these people have in common? The mind. The bruisers of our time, or any other for that matter, are quickly forgotten. The strongest changes with age as muscles rot and the body withers. But a naturally sharp mind never dulls.
Damn, he took my queen. No matter. This is how I always am in chess. Everyone thinks I do it on purpose to throw off the opponent, but the truth is that I put my queen in too much danger. I move her into the front lines, my ultimate bruiser, to take out as many as she can and die in the process just so I can feel out my opponent. A great sacrifice, but one that has never lost me a game.
I remember when my father tried taking me on. A few months ago, he sat me down, told me that he was going to show me how to play chess for real. I accepted and anticipated the great battle ahead of me.
He lost. Badly.
It wasn’t even a fight, really. The battle of wits I had expected boiled down to his habits at home. He would arrive home from work promptly at 5:25. Park the car, lower the garage door, remove his shoes at the door, then sit down in his reclining chair for one hour of uninterrupted television. He is a creature of meticulous, boring habit, and that’s where his actions betrayed him. Park the car, move rook into corner position. Lower garage door, align diagonal pawn wall. Remove shoes, part two pawns in the middle. Sit in reclining chair, move his bishops out through the holes and wait for them to ravish most of my army.
I caught his actions at lowering the garage door and effectively removed his shoes for him. He tried to advance his plan, but discovered his reclining chair had been lit on fire. One of his bishops was in my sight and a knight for a bishop is pretty good trade off. His defeat was certain the second he started building his defenses.
Damn him! One bishop out. That’s okay. The tiger fights hardest when it’s pinned to the wall. Secondary defenses are launched, my knights taking action; their L movements along my rook’s vertical movements spell HELL for my opponent. He will be taken down eventually. There are only two paths to take now for him. He can either try to obliterate me from the inside out or try a secondary breach of my defenses. Either way, he won’t see my silent assassin, the remaining bishop, coming for his king. I will win.
I grew tired of being here. Being at the top is only interesting for a while, and then it gets very boring. Your opinions and judgment aren’t questioned, people come to you for sagely advice, and all of a sudden, everyone loses the will to get to the top. I felt like a great warrior sitting on a throne of skulls, looking at the end of Armageddon and knowing that there was nothing better, nothing left to conquer. That’s when James came to school.
My tongue was too lazy that day to get out the answer to someone’s question in time and James beat me to the punch. I blinked. Did he actually answer a question for me or challenge my authority? This would be interesting. Over the next few weeks, we were exchanging blows, one point better on a quiz, homework completed in class, quickly answering the most mundane of questions with fervor equal to that of a martial artist going against his rival. He was going down though. This match would decide it.
What the hell was I thinking? He went for both! Of course he did. What else would he have done? He even set up a defense from my bishop. If I don’t rally my defenses now, I’m gone for.
No.
The time for that has passed. He’s setting up for the win and in his current state of mind, he’ll beat me, but to win, sometimes you have to think outside the box. On the surface, chess is just a game, but anyone can tell that it’s really a battle of the minds, one that rivals fist fights in tenacity, and now I’m going to pull the equivalent of a sucker punch.
“I saw Jenny kissing Andy!” I yell at my opponent. His eyes reflect the shock his heart receives.
“What did you say?”
“You heard me. She liked it too!”
He started shaking, losing his focus on the game, so much so that he didn’t see my bishop sneak around his defense. I had to tell him it was his move. A sloppy feign to try and check me. There, his knight is out of the way, and I’m two moves away from making his demise. His mind has been clouded and here comes my final victory. He takes out my last knight, but doesn’t check me. What a fool. I position myself on the path to victory, my rightful place. I will put him down just like I put all the others down. He will learn his place soon enough. Just then, Mrs. Robinson interrupts.
“Okay everyone, time for recess!”
I see all the other 9 year olds line up alphabetically, even James, wiping the tears from his eyes. I look down at our battlefield. I can’t do anything! It’s his move!
“Wait James, we’re not done yet!”
“It’s time for recess! And you’re mean!”
I bite my lip hard. It bleeds into my mouth, surrounding my gums like an almost-dry moat.
Game: Undecided.
