Copyright © 2014 by Curtis Couch
Thanks in advance for any votes/comments! It really helps the writers a lot.
Chapter 3
It was the first day of the New York Grand Prix; a set of 6 tables sat in the foyer of the luxurious Waldorf-Astoria hotel. Mike was losing again. He tried to block everything out as he calculated long variations. It was no use; the murmur of the crowd, Ben’s incessant watchful eye, even the damn lights were too bright.
Mike - once again - extended his hand in resignation.
Another loss.
***
He went to the press room to analyze his games for the media; whenever he lost, he hated doing it. He quickly ran through the moves, offered a few cursory observations, then tried to get the hell out of there.
“Just a few questions.” The press officer said placing her hand on Mike’s shoulder.
“Paul Strong - New in Chess. Mike, what happened in the opening?”
He shrugged, “I didn’t know the line he played.”
“It’s a well known variation - as a 2700 plus GM you should have known it shouldn’t you?”
“Well I didn’t.”
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t understand.” He said, bewildered by the intrusive line of questioning. Mike was like an alcoholic being told he had a drinking problem. Simply put - he didn’t want to hear it.
The press officer said, “Maybe you could rephrase the question.”
“You were a child prodigy, the youngest ever GM, shooting through the ranks. But now your endgame technique is sloppy, you don’t know the latest opening theory, and you’re missing simple tactics in the middlegame. What’s up?”
In a paroxysm of anger Mike seized the water bottle, and threw it at the reporter. “Fuck you!”
Chaos followed, but Mike didn’t care; he was already storming out of the Waldorf-Astoria, and hailing a cab. He just wanted to get the hell out of there.
***
Mike checked the caller id on his phone – GM Ben.
“Yeah.”
Ben’s voice crackled through the handset.
“Watching a movie – the Wolverine…Nah, I like it.”
Mike had tried to study some opening theory during the rest day, but he had a headache, and was tired. Instead he’d shoved a movie on the flatscreen, and opened a bottle of wine.
“Sure, let’s grab a drink…The Ragozin…at 7…yeah see you there.”
***
The Ragozin was a dime a dozen bar; people went there to drown their sorrows during the recession. It was Chinese, had a Zhengzhou night vibe about it. A projector played movies, English and Chinese subs rolled along the bottom while a loud murmurous chatter reverberated off the brick walls. Mike saw Ben waiting for him at the bar.
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Tatiana
KurzgeschichtenMike is a gifted chess player, but he's long since given up on life. He doesn't see the point in doing anything anymore. It isn't until he meets a pre-eminent ballerina - Tatiana - that he finally begins to understand. But it is perhaps too late. Co...
