[a] Spassky-Fischer Reykjavík, 1972 |
[b] Match of the Century |
Reykjavík Bobby Fischer-Boris Spassky
For a brief period during my youth, everyone seemed to play chess. I thought it was a natural part of making one’s way through school, whether one particularly liked the game or not. Chess sets were common holiday gifts in the early 1970s, and I got my first board with plastic pieces then. It turns out that I took for normalcy what was really a short-lived historical anomaly. Most Americans seem not to have liked chess much before 1972, and don’t seem to be very interested today, either.
For one shining period, though, almost everyone paid attention. When Robert (Bobby) Fischer played Boris Spassky, everyone was a chess fan. I remember a conversation overheard at the Quality Bakery in Northfield, Minnesota that summer. A table of middle-aged men in overalls and wearing bright seed company caps debated Fischer’s “weak play with white” in game four, as well as his impressive victory with black to even the series in game five. The only time that I ever hear such conversations today is during Olympic years, when Americans suddenly become discerning experts on figure skating and gymnastics.
Back in the summer of 1972, however, even those not much interested in chess were drawn to the “American versus the Soviet” angle. It is hard today to imagine how powerfully the months of July, August, and September would sear themselves into our memories. The Munich Olympics began in late-August, Fischer was crowned champion on September 1, and any certainties we held about the world would pause on September 5, with the Munich hostage crisis. Somehow, through this whole time, there was a little break-in at the Watergate complex. No one who ever lived through it will forget that summer.
[c] Popular culture c. 1972 |
[d] World Chess Championship, 1972 |
Back in Reykjavik in July, Bobby Fischer got off to a flawed start, to say the least, and his behavior matched his play. By the fifth game, though, he had leveled the match, and the next game would prove pivotal. Although I say that in retrospect, most of us “knew” it even before the opening move.
And what an opening move it was. Fischer had never played it before in competition. Ever. There were gasps in the audience, and even Spassky was said to have betrayed surprise. I tried to imagine the conversation the next day at the bakery. No one saw it coming. It was truly a beginning to remember.
[e] 1 c4 (pawn moves two squares forward) |
Fischer, playing white, moved his Queen’s bishop’s pawn two squares forward.
[f] Beginning to end(game). |
Fischer's standard opening (with a few small exceptions depending on the situation) was the “Ruy Lopez” opening of e4—the king’s pawn moves two squares forward. One of the criticisms of Fischer had been that his openings were just too predictable. It was as though he had been waiting for just the right moment to unleash something new.
What a beginning.
Even if you don’t play chess, click “play” when you reach the link below, and watch the game unfold (Queen's gambit declined). It is one of the greatest games ever played, and Boris Spassky publicly applauded his opponent for masterful play—an act that even Fischer regarded as classy. Both Fischer and Spassky regarded it as the best game of the match.
What a beginning.
Even if you don’t play chess, click “play” when you reach the link below, and watch the game unfold (Queen's gambit declined). It is one of the greatest games ever played, and Boris Spassky publicly applauded his opponent for masterful play—an act that even Fischer regarded as classy. Both Fischer and Spassky regarded it as the best game of the match.
[b] Match of the Century.
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