Chess / By Shelby Lyman
on April 12, 2014 – 12:01 AM
For Bobby Fischer, chess was transcendent. It animated his consciousness. It was a voyage of discovery. Each past and pending adventure on the chessboard was a moment to be savored and remembered.
Even when not consciously thinking of the game, it pervaded his being. He waked, walked and slept it with intensity and passion.
At night, once could hear the tap, tap of pieces from his room. He relished the encompassing nightfall and night. Its vastness, quiet and presence inspired him.
He was a preternatural force, it seemed, sent forth by Caissa, the goddess of chess, to enhance and celebrate her powers, to animate the planet.
His search, like the Holy Grail quest of King Arthur legendry, admitted no obstacle. He was an implacable, yet charismatic force.
Bobby inspired people, his immediates and later the world. They wanted to share in his reality and being.
In 1972 Boris Spassky, his spiritual brother and fellow competitor, joined him in Iceland – a land of Vikings and dreams – for a banquet of chess and a festive toast to humanity.
No event in sports has ever had such a following in size and duration as their mythic seven-week battle for supremacy.
The magic dust of the Icelandic chess volcano continues to fall and enrich us.