Roanoke Times
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: FRIDAY, February 21, 1992 TAG: 9202210477
SECTION: EDITORIAL PAGE: A-7 EDITION: METRO
SOURCE: By JIM GLANVILLE
DATELINE: LENGTH: Medium
A CEREBRAL HERO HOLDS ON
THE DEBATE as to whether chess is a science, art or professional sport continues. My own view is expressed in the paradox that chess is much too much fun to be work but much too much work to be fun.As a sport, chess is perhaps unique in offering a player the possibility to be simultaneously an active participant and a spectator. A case in point was the 1991 version of the 8-round Eastern Open tournament in Arlington immediately after Christmas.
Chess spectators are a lucky breed. They can literally look over the shoulders of their heroes at the height of the action. And for the chess buff, there probably is no bigger thrill than watching a flurry of grandmaster moves played during the heat of a wild time scramble.
The game I most enjoyed watching occurred between Josh Waitzkin and Igor Ivanov.
Waitzkin is a 15-year-old from New York City. In 1988 his father, Fred, wrote "Searching For Bobby Fischer," which the Wall Street Journal called the "the most readable book about chess in at least a decade . . . " In it, the senior Waitzkin chronicles his son's progress at chess and describes both a literal search for Bobby Fischer in a seedy Los Angeles suburb and a metaphorical search for Fischer's successor as the next American world-champion.
Igor Ivanov is a bearded, greying, middle-aged International Master. Like Gulko, Ivanov hails from the former Soviet Union. Ivanov is a professional, noted for his iron stamina. One of the most active players on the U.S. tournament circuit, he plays in dozens of tournaments each year.
The Ivanov-Waitzkin encounter had already entered the endgame by the time it became the focus of my attention. The endgame is reached when the players have traded off most of their forces. Ivanov, playing white, held a slight advantage with several pawns and a knight against Josh's rook and king. A half-dozen spectators stood watching the game, among them both Josh's mother and father.
"How's he doing," Josh's father whispered to me.
"I think he's okay," I said, responding with a show of solidarity rather than from any insight into the position on the board.
Many chess endgames are tricky. The differences among winning, drawing, and losing can be imperceptible even to great players and totally obscure to amateurs like me. For an hour, the players maneuvered carefully. Ivanov slowly advancing his pawns and Josh slowly falling back in retreat.
With each move of Ivanov's, our hopes sank, only to rise again with Josh's reply. The spectators were all, of course, rooting silently for Josh. Running through my mind was the adage that old age and treachery will always overcome youth and skill.
Finally, having fallen back a long way, Josh sacrificed his rook for Ivanov's knight to reach a position in which his lone king faced Ivanov's king and a pawn. A couple of moves later Ivanov extended his hand - the traditional way of offering a draw. His one-pawn advantage was too narrow to win. Josh had held on. I felt the warm and fuzzy feeling of the fan whose team has scored.
Despite Josh's growing skill, his public exposure in the harsh limelight of professional chess, and the possibility that his brief career will be the subject of a movie, he remains an amiable, bashful teen-ager. He is good-humored and manages to be slightly puzzled by his own success - qualities I find in only my very best students.
It's encouraging to find a genuine cerebral hero as an alternative to stereotypical teen-age athletes. I don't know whether we're ever going to find Bobby Fischer, but after watching the Ivanov-Waitzkin game, I think there's still a chance.
Jim Glanville, who lives in Blacksburg, teaches chemistry at Virginia Tech.