Chapter 30: Learning Checkmate

Shortly after I started my second year of high school as a recycled freshman, my stepfather called me into his study for a “talk.” Usually these discussions were extended rants over my crappy grades, my poor work ethic, or unfinished household chores.

Richard was a man with an unusual background. He had started life as a Southern Baptist preacher and circuit rider. Inadequate or non-existent roads forced him to travel by mule to visit congregations too poor to afford a settled minister. His route took him deep into the heart of Appalachia along the eastern borders of Kentucky and Tennessee.

He went on to become a Unitarian minister. Unitarians and Southern Baptist occupy opposite ends of the religious spectrum. Along the way, Richard studied at Harvard University and mastered Hebrew, Greek, and Aramaic to read the scriptures in their original written languages. The more Richard studied and the more he learned, the more his personal theology evolved.

When people would ask him how he made the transition from Southern Baptist to Unitarian his answer was always the same: “It was easy. I just kept growing.”

I was surprised to see my stepfather, sitting at the coffee table in front of a checkers board in the corner of the study. Richard motioned me to take a seat in the chair across from him. As I took my seat, Richard smiled at me and said, “Starting today, you are going to learn how to play chess.”

“Huh?” was my response. I had assumed I was about to be yelled at for some transgression, poor grades, or missed chore. I never expected to be enrolled into an involuntary betterment program. I believed I was ready for anything but I was wrong. Learning how to play chess was not an item on any of my to-do lists.

Seeing the look of confusion on my face, Richard repeated himself, “I’m going to teach you how to play chess and your first lesson starts now.”

As the full-time minister of a rapidly growing church, Richard was a very busy man. I was baffled as to why he would take time out of his schedule to teach me how to play chess. Wouldn’t it be a better investment of his time translating the Dead Sea Scrolls or something?

“I’m not smart enough to play chess,” I protested.

“That’s bullshit!” Richard said with a smile. Then the smile drained from his face as he looked me in the eye and said, “Dennis, you are not stupid and you know it! You only pretend to be stupid.” The tone of voice closed the door to any argument.

“It’s about time you use your head for something else besides a hat rack,” Richard said as he leaned forward and gave the top of my head a rap with his knuckles that left my ears ringing.

“You have talents and abilities that you refuse to use. Learning to play chess will force you to think logically and to plan your moves. In chess, as in life, every move you make has direct consequences. You and I are going to be playing a lot of chess. You will report to my study every day, without exception, and we will play chess for at least one hour a day,” Richard explained.

“How long will I’ve to play chess?” I asked, fearful of the answer.

“Until you can beat me three games in a row,” Richard replied as he arranged chess pieces on the coffee table next to the chessboard. “Chess is called the game of kings because once upon a time only nobility played the game,” Richard told me.

“The only way you can win the game of kings is by thinking like a king. I’m going to teach you how to be a king but first, let me introduce you to your army,” Richard said as he picked up a small playing piece.

“This little fellow is a pawn. Pawns are amazing guys. They are the weakest and most abundant members of your army. They may not be very powerful but every pawn carries within themselves the seeds of greatness,” he smiled and set the pawn on the center of the board.

“If this runt reaches the opposite side of the board and gets to the eighth row, then he must be promoted to any other piece except for the king or another pawn,” Richard’s smile grew wider; I think he liked the biblical flavor of “the last shall be first.”

“Pawns are your loyal soldiers, and they can never retreat. They can only move forward and can only attack forward and to the side,” Richard stated as he handed me another pawn to examine.

“And this guy is your king; he’s immortal and can never be killed or captured,” my step-dad set the white sovern on the board next to the pawn.

“When a king is under attack, you say ‘check’ and if you are unable to block the attack and the king has no safe place to move its ‘checkmate,’ and the game is over. You have won!” He flicked his finger and topled the king.

“Kings are the most important players but they are also the weakest game piece. They can only move one square in any direction. The king is also a fighter,” he picked up the fallen monarch and clicked away the pawn.

“He can capture another piece as long as the move does not put him in check,” Richard said as he began to patiently explain each piece’s personality, which was his name for each piece and its movement rules.

Rooks were powerful but clumsy and could only move vertically or horizontally. Bishops were religious fanatics and they could only move diagonally, had to remain committed to their faith, and could not stray from their starting color for the duration of the game.

Knights were sneaky bastards and could jump over pieces to make their attack.