The Chess Connection

Suddenly and unexpectedly, our 9 year old Diego has become a chess enthusiast. He was introduced to it at school; our local Superintendent has a vision that every student in the district will become proficient in the game of chess. The thinking is that all of the skills one needs to do well in chess are the skills needed to exceed in school, and in life, as well. Apparently the research supports this.

Yesterday morning at about 9 I brought Diego over to Blake Manor Elementary, where he was to participate in the district's annual chess tournament. It was his first time competing in the game of chess, other than the games he and I play on my wife's iPad, or the games he plays with friends in his after school program, presumably.

I wasn't sure how he'd do; in fact, I was pretty sure he'd play one game and be vanquished by a more serious player. I had him dressed in full little league baseball uniform, so that we could hop in the car and head over to his game.

Six hours later, Diego was done. Bleary eyed, he came out of the heavily guarded elementary school gymnasium sporting two medals. Apparently he'd spent the day(the entire day) playing in two different brackets -- third grade intermediate, in which he'd won a bronze third-place medal, and third grade beginner, for which he'd won the silver, for second place.

To say I was proud doesn't quite do the emotions justice. It's one of those primal things, when a dad sees a son do well in competition. It's a joy that defies description, even by those who pride themselves in putting words together for effect.

I think the reason this particular activity hit me so hard is that it connects me, quite directly, to my past and to my family. When I picture my grandfather -- my Opa -- Bill Fuchs, I see him sitting in his chair in Larchmont, New York, at 42 Maple Hill Drive. He's wearing a cardigan and horn-rimmed glasses and is smoking a cigar. He's contemplating a book, the newspaper, or the chessboard. It was not unusual for him to have a number of games going via post; apparently one of his favorite opponents was a man who was incarcerated at Sing Sing, if I'm remembering right. I wish I'd thought to ask for more details.

My father, too, enjoyed chess, and taught my brother Mike and me at a fairly young age. I have a vague recollection of trying to watch one of the televised chess tournaments on ABC's Wide World of Sports. It may have been Bobby Fisher and Kasparov, I'm not sure.

Neither Dad nor Opa lived long enough to meet my children. I wonder if the intensity of my emotions can somehow be ascribed to this fact. Maybe some residual emotion, left over from whatever remains of their spirits, has joined with my own pride to make my heart swell, seeing my son contemplating his next move, cheek resting on his palm, much as I did at his age, and as my father did, and his father before him.