I have started a chess club at my school. Of all the things that do nothing to enhance your sex-appeal, playing chess is the do-nothingest. Fortunately, I have already long since reproduced, so it’s too late for Nancy to back out now. (And if she did back out, my playing chess would be low on her list of reasons for doing so.) Anyway, every Wednesday, a few kids come to my room to pore over chess problems and play. I even ordered a big vinyl display chess board – one of those things that hangs on the wall with flat plastic pieces to slide into it – to demonstrate problems and tactics. It is my geeky pride and joy. We have a chess clock – only one so far – that adds a certain frisson to the game, to hear it ticking your time away after your opponent presses the button on his side. A middling chess player I, I can usually be counted on to make one uncannily brilliant move per came. I will also usually make one stupendous blunder. Victory or defeat will be decided by which order I do them in. Chess is perhaps the perfect game. No element of luck or chance, but complex enough you’ll never play the same game twice. My goal is to host a chess tournament at my school. Imagine it! Dozens of kids sitting in rows, sweating over the King’s pawn gambit as their little chess clocks tick away at their elbows. The glory, the glory!
Yes, I am a true geek. Thank God, I have already reproduced.
