True, although his Machiavellian drawing spree in the 1968 British championships induced several cases of apoplexy among the older generation. Not to mention events in Gotham City.

LOL. Actually, fusilli is not my favorite pasta, but it's my cat's name, and we gave him that name based on this cartoon from The New Yorker:

Here is an elegaic youtube analysis of a game where <IM Bob Wade> drew <Bobby Fischer> in 1965.

When you consider just how good a chess player Bobby was in 1965, I think it's safe to give <IM Wade> a big "hats off" for this one:

that's a very evocative piece of writing. Beautifully done.

You and <Dom> might appreciate this analysis video--

It's an overview of the infamous <Reti Gambit> against the Frog:

1.e4 e6
2.b3???????

I'm going to try it out next time I play.

If I ever open <1.e4> again, that is.

http://kr.youtube.com/watch?v=Lr_11...

Considerable confusion follows, but doesn't it always?

<A largely true story -- insofar as there's ever any truth in these 'family narratives'> ...

One of my ancestors was a bombastic smalltime politician (all *those* genes clearly got lost in the wash) named Cornelius 'Con' O'Shay.

One of his political opponents announced that the trouble with, well, everything, could be summed up with three words: "Confusion, Conceit, & Con O'Shay".

Personally, I think his brother, Pin, should take some of the blame. A military type -- Pin O'Shay.

Consider, en passant, the plight of the innocent teacher who tells his pupils that "Porns begin on the second and seventh wanks, depending on how you sit".

Confusion, Conceit & my Venewable Ancestow.

That was back when I could actually beat kids, rather than just offering up my heavily-discounted scalp. On another occasion, I was playing in a tournament on my 20th birthday, so naturally went for a drink or three between rounds. This was the Saturday of a weekend tourney, so there were three games to be played.

When I returned I found that my opponent was a *very* small kid -- as in, could-barely-see over-the-top of-his-king small. And I was playing black.

Lurching into my chair, I looked for the pawn one usually finds on e4 in such circumstances. It wasn't there. I glanced at him suspiciously, checked that my pieces were in fact black and my clock was in fact ticking, and slid my gaze sideways to d4. Nothing there either. With mounting paranoia, I examined c4 and f4 -- same story. And all of his knights were still at home. What was going on here?

After about five minutes I noticed that he'd played 1.b3 ... hey, little kids aren't supposed to do that! It's the preserve of 20-something posers ("Did I menshun itsh my birthday hic?"), ex-teenagers, and ageing eccentrics. So I copied him ...

1.b3 b6
2.e3 e6
3.Bb2 Bb7
4.Nf3 Nf6
5.c4 c5
6.Be2 Be7
7.0-0 0-0
8.d4 d5
9.Nc3 Nc6
10.Rc1 Rc8

Or something like that. Apparently this position was quite popular around 1912, when it tended to arrive via the Queen's Gambit. It's boring.

To cut the story short, I blundered the Exchange a few moves later, forced myself to sober up briefly, and swindled him with a sac plus back rank mate. More tears ensued.

You can't win. Or, rather, you can, but sometimes it's more trouble than it's worth. I drew a perfectly winnable club game the other night -- opponent graded about 400 points lower, with 7 mins on his clock to my 25 -- on the grounds that he asked me nicely.

I think my killer instinct went AWOL somewhere during those lost years.

Hey, mebbe I'm a serial killer with amnesia ... hiding out in the lower echelons of the chess scene ... but leaving semiotic fingerprints and virtual bloodied knives all over the place. There's a movie plot there somewhere. Featuring small boys, too, by the sound of it.

Ban it at once. Batchimeg, where are you? And did you know that Cal Thomas -- rightoid radio nut who likes to grovel to Bill O'Reilly -- was once elected <Vice President of the Moral Majority>?

Horrible pun (O'Pun Defense?) follows, derived directly from a typo which I managed to catch before it went out live.

Madonna's movie career: from bit parts to Brit parts ...

OK, it sounded better at the script conference. Also, the Ciccione lawyers had not yet, at that point, ordered us - on pain of forfeiture of this and other nearby galaxies - to delete ourselves along with everything we had ever done.

hehehe

It's funny because it is true. I used to feel bad about playing kids as well...I was always scared they would ask to take back a move.

However, after a couple of sound thrashings by one particular little toe-rag I lost all conscience where chess-playing kids are concerned!

If they are old enough to push the pieces...they are old enough!

I can't say I have ever played 1.b3 in a long game though (probably not a short one either...)

What is it with you people? You just can't bring yourselves to blend in with the crowd?

Or you are thirsty not just to beat your opponent but humiliate them too?

hehe

That was good of you to accept a draw with such a big time advantage though...maybe you are just too good natured though. Would he have done you that sort of courtesy I wonder...?