alexpgp | LJ Idol 9.5: On mousetraps, building, and being built...

He was known as "Chaz" on the cell block, and as prisoner 622293 in the system, but I knew his real name, what he'd done to end up here, and how that had forever screwed his playing career. The system had him working in the prison library, which is where I found him. I got to the point.

"You still play chess?" I asked.

Chaz barely glanced at me as he shelved a book. "Not really," he sighed. "But I've nothing better to do right now, so... yeah, let's play a game. You be White."

I looked around, but there was no board set up in the room. "So, where...," I started to ask.

"No set, no board. In your head, y'dig?" said Chaz. "Here. Now. Your move."

Chess players describe this technique—using no set or board—as "blindfold" play (even though there's no physical blindfold), but I'd never done it before, and told Chaz so.

"So scram. Come back when you've learned how," he said, and turned away to shelve another book.

It turned out the library had one chess book, a tattered volume of all-time best games played up to 1940. I proceeded to spend a lot of time with that book, playing the games over in my head (or trying to). It got easier after a while. Three months later, I challenged Chaz again.

"Your offer still stand?" I asked. Chaz was scribbling notations on a pile of index cards and filing them in a box.

"More or less," he said, "except now, I'll be White, and I'll make your first two moves as Black."

"No way!" I said.

"Way... or we don't play," he said. "Here's what I propose," he continued, and recited the first two moves for each side.

I visualized the board. His two White center pawns had advanced two squares and my Black bishop was attacking one of them from behind a pawn that had been pushed up one square on the right side of my board. Before I could do or say anything, my opponent said, "It's straight out of the book. The Owen Defense. Ever hear of it?" I shook my head no, whereupon Chaz said, "It doesn't matter, because now we leave the book behind with my third move, Bishop to gee five."

"Weird setup," I said, and furrowed my brow. Chaz's Bishop had landed on what seemed like an awkward square. And his pawn was still undefended. "Some kind of gambit?" I asked.

"Well, now, it's funny you should ask, because as a matter of fact, that's just what it is. It's called the 'Mousetrap.' You gonna take the pawn, or not?" He filed the index card he was working on and picked up another.

I never much did like gambits, because they have a tendency to sucker you in with what looks like a "free" advantage, much like the undefended pawn I saw on the board in my head. But it was all I could do to just visualize the board at that point, so I said: "Bishop takes pawn."

Five moves later, I resigned the game.

"Pretty good, for a first time out," said Chaz afterward. When I gave him a "yeah, right!" look, he put down his pen and stuck out his thumb. "One, you wanted to play me bad enough to learn how to play blindfold." Then out sprang his forefinger. "Two, you didn't forget the board setup during the game. That's pretty good, in my book."

"Not much of a game," I said. "I lost."

"Well, when the mouse goes for the cheese," singsonged Chaz, picking up his pen, "there's a price to pay, y'know?" It took me a moment to realize that he was talking about my Bishop and his pawn, respectively. "Anyway, if I had a nickel for every game I ever lost...," his voice trailed away.

When I mentioned that playing blindfold had tired me out, Chaz said: "It happens, when you start playing blindfold for real. But it's like any exercise; you get better with practice. You did okay. Lots of players can't play more than three or four moves blindfold, and would've lost the same way with a set and board in front of them. Anyway, sets don't last long in here," he waved his hand to indicate the prison in general, "so blindfold is really the only option." With that, he turned his attention back to his index card stack.

"I don't think I much like the Mousetrap," I said, just to keep the conversation rolling.

"Stop complaining and don't worry, you'll learn to love the Mousetrap," said Chaz, "at least, if you want to keep playing with me." He filed another index card.

"How come?" I asked.

"Because at the moment, I'm the only other player around here," he said.

"But why the same opening all the time, and why this one?" I persisted.

"Primo," he said, again with the extended thumb, "you get to know one opening inside-out, your overall chess skill improves. Segundo," he extended his index finger, "the Mousetrap is offbeat enough not to have been analyzed to death." By the time Chaz was finished all five fingers were extended, and for what it was worth, besides the fact that all his reasons made sense, I noticed the tip of his pinkie was missing.

"So the bottom line? It's this," said Chaz. "You keep playing this opening, you'll become a better player. Instead of you building a better mousetrap, think of it as this mousetrap building a better you!"

And I gritted my teeth as he burst out laughing, uproariously, at his little play on words.

I could have killed him right then. I may yet, someday, if they don't parole me first. But in the meantime, I need to improve my game.