Chess doesn't get the respect it deserves

SIMPLY LIVING

My 17-year-old son is away this weekend playing in a chess tournament. As a parent of a child who has been playing in chess tournaments since he was eight, I find myself wavering between feelings of amazement and disappointment. The kids I’ve met over the years at competitions are an amazing lot. They remain calm under pressure, endure long hours of intense concentration yet somehow manage to stay focused and analytical. While other sports depend at least in part on luck, winning chess players succeed by out-thinking and outmaneuvering their opponents. What I find disappointing is how little attention chess players receive for their achievements. Our basketball-football-soccer-golf-crazed society is rarely interested in the accomplishments of its mental athletes.

The last time a chess tournament made headline news was 1997 when IBM’s chess-playing computer, Deep Blue, defeated then-world champion Garry Kasparov. The only other recent event to catch the attention of the media was the death in Iceland on January 18, 2008 of 64-year-old expatriate and infamous chess maven, Bobby Fischer.

Last July, when Melbourne, Florida resident Makaio Krienke tied for first place in the Under 2000 division of The 35th Annual World Open in Philadelphia, the 17-year-old didn’t return home to a rush of reporters knocking at his door. He eased back into his everyday life without fuss or fanfare. Even 14-year-old Ray Robson of Largo, the youngest chess master in the state of Florida and the youngest International Master in the United States, is relatively unknown outside the chess community. Yet Robson has been astounding the chess world for years. Since he was nine, this holder of seven National Scholastic titles has represented the United States in international scholastic events.

Last week while clicking through TV channels, Toby and I chanced upon coverage of the Scripps 2009 National Spelling Bee. A day or so later we also watched the finals of the National Geographic Bee. Like thousands of other viewers, the mental acuity displayed by the young contestants bowled us over. I’m glad the media covered those events but I couldn’t help wondering why important chess events don’t receive similar coverage.

The chessboard is one of the few level playing fields in the world of competitive sports. Men, women, boys and girls – able-bodied and disabled - compete against each other in divisions determined not by age, gender or physical condition but by strength of mind, mental agility, and performance.

One would think a society that medicates more than 2.5 million of its children for attention deficit and hyper-activity related disorders would pay more attention to a game that teaches players to think slowly, clearly and logically.

Toby began playing chess when he was four. By the time he was six he was routinely defeating his father and older siblings. During summers, while his peers were off at soccer or basketball camp, he joined a band of loyal players at chess camp. Instead of shooting hoops or practicing blocking, the kids at chess camp worked on improving their endgames, developing tactics and honing techniques.

His hard work paid off. After years of competing in dozens of small and large tournaments, Toby is the third highest ranked under-18-year-old in Florida. I have no doubt he’ll achieve his present goal – to earn the title of “Master” before entering UCF this fall.

Benjamin Franklin once said, “The game of chess is not merely an idle amusement; several very valuable qualities of the mind are to be acquired and strengthened by it, so as to become habits ready on all occasions; for life is a kind of chess.”

Franklin was right. Chess is much more than an idle amusement. It’s a sport. It’s a discipline. It’s preparation for life. Isn’t it about time society took notice and gave it the attention it deserves?

Web is handy when all you can get live is pity-Scrabble

Simply Living



(First appeared on September 15, 2008 in Orlando Sentinel)

I've been playing a lot of online Scrabble lately. Instead of moving wooden tiles by hand, I've been sitting in front of a computer screen typing word plays on a keyboard. I had no idea online Scrabble could be such fun.

Thanks to the broad reach of the World Wide Web, any time of the day or night, someone somewhere shares my enthusiasm for creating bingos -- that's Scrabble terminology for high-scoring seven letter words. About a month ago, I joined ISC -- International Scrabble Club -- and now have at my fingertips an endless supply of word-loving compadres.

Since I began playing, I've competed against people from throughout the United States and Canada. My most distant opponent lives in Kuwait. I lost that game.

Knowing how much I love Scrabble, my daughter's boyfriend, Brett, a tournament player and Scrabble Club organizer who lives in Massachusetts, suggested I try playing online.

"It's easy," he said, but I didn't believe him at first.

Experience taught me that most new computer programs involve a steep learning curve. The idea of adding yet another task to my already heavy computer load seemed too overwhelming to consider.

So I didn't.

For several months after Brett's suggestion, I continued to beg my 16-year-old son to play with me. Every now and then -- emphasis on "then" -- he relented and played. It felt more like pity-Scrabble than anything.

"All right," he could have been thinking. "I might as well give her a little attention. She's been asking me to play with her for weeks."

Despite his lack of gusto, those games were always fun. Toby is a terrific player and, while his teenage ego requires him to believe he is far better than me in just about everything, when it comes to Scrabble, I feel we're well-matched. But time takes its toll and after he refused my umpteenth request, I reconsidered Brett's suggestion.

One day I took the plunge.

"Show me how to play online," I asked my youngest child.

As a young math-loving, chess-playing person, Toby has an intuitive ability to understand such things. For several years now he has been a member of ICC, the chess equivalent of online Scrabble, and both programs operate similarly.

After a few basic instructions, I was ready to begin. I picked out a "handle" -- the online name I would use -- and selected the type of game I wanted to play. My choices included the number of minutes I wanted each match to last, whether I wanted to be penalized for using nonacceptable words and whether I would play against anyone or only players who met certain pre-selected criteria. So far, so good.

That first game remains a blur. I recall being scared I would do something wrong. I was confused in the beginning and I'm pretty sure I lost. Fortunately, Toby stood by to guide me along.

"Quick! Quick!" I panicked right after the game began. "How do I rearrange the letters on my rack?"

"You can move them with the mouse or right click alongside the rack and they'll be rearranged automatically," he responded calmly.

Although I didn't think it would happen, I started regaining my composure by the fifth or sixth move. Virtual Scrabble began to make sense. I've learned more new words in one month than in all my previous years of playing and I eagerly anticipate the day my rating breaks 1,000. Toby says I'm addicted and he's probably right. The other night I woke up from sleep and was unable to lie back down without words flashing through my mind, my body restlessly tossing and turning.

"I'll get up for a little while," I told myself as I wandered down the hall toward my office.

"Maybe I'll sign on for a few minutes just to see if anyone's playing."

At 3 a.m., three wins, one loss and four bingos later, I made my way back to the bedroom. I'd gained a few points and added the words "sware," "cadi," and "fou" to my burgeoning vocabulary. I also fell asleep as soon as I hit the bed and slept like a baby. If that's what being addicted is all about, sign me up. Wait -- I'm already signed up. Good, then let the games begin.