Disclaimer: This piece is not meant to put-down beginning players. It is meant to poke fun at those few people out there who kibitz like they know it all but don't really know thing-one about the game, and don't want to learn. Please keep that in mind when reading this little observation of mine.


I've been in the Navy for almost eight years now, and I've found that there's one immutable, universal truth: when someone in the service is overheard explaining their job, there's always a know-it-all in the crowd who has to put his two-cents in.

Now this isn't a bad thing; I enjoy hearing about other's experiences, or "sea-stories," as we call them in the Navy. Most people who've served our country in the military have at least a dozen or so interesting tales to tell, usually involving a woman, a fight, a bar, or a fight over a woman in a bar. All fun stuff the recruiters feed to enthusiastic, blissfully ignorant young men before they send them off to a ship in the Persian Gulf to wash dishes for six months.

However, the "two-cents" I'm referring to are typically dished out by guys who have two fundamental problems that mark them as stupid: 1) a ridiculously exaggerated notion of their own abilities; and 2) a complete lack of basic knowledge about their alleged branch of service. They pick the most dangerous and difficult jobs the military has to offer and start telling stories that they think sound like something they would've done if they were really there. If a Marine initiates the conversation, Mr. X was part of Marine Force Recon; if it's a soldier talking, Mr. X was either a Green Beret or an Army Ranger; and if a sailor shows up, Mr. X was a fighting man of SEAL Team Two. (Coincidentally, I’ve never met anyone who’s admitted to being an Air Force veteran.)

I'm in the Navy, so most guys like to tell me about when they were a SEAL. They'll start off with things that sound feasible at first, but for some reason, these know-it-all types can't help but throw in something they think will impress their listener. Like, "I was the only E-5 my commanding officer let fly the planes," or "No, I didn't have to go all the way through boot-camp; my uncle is a colonel and he got me a waiver." Yeah, right. A colonel. In the Navy. I'm all for embellishing a good sea-story and all (heck, it's almost expected), but at least have enough information to make it reasonable.

Remarks like the ones I mention above are usually my cue to exit stage right. Granted, I enjoy waving the BS flag as much as the next guy, but these types just aren't worth the effort. I used to think there were a lot of stupid people in the Navy, but apparently those who just want to be in the Navy are even dumber than some of those already serving. In more ways than one, probably.

By now you're probably wondering what all this has to do with chess. Well, since my understanding of chess has grown and the hobby that it once was has blossomed into a full-blown obsession, I've noticed that the same kind of thing happens when the topic of chess is brought to the table. But the people who don't know jack about chess and still profess to be hardcore woodpushers are more entertaining -- partly because they say the same types of things as the military wannabes who claim to be Rambo, but mostly because justice rules supreme on the chessboard. A lot of trash talk and a few lines from Searching for Bobby Fischer isn't going to save a hanging queen.

Let me ask you a question: when you tell people that you're a chessplayer, how many of them tell you that they don't know how to play? Not many, right? Most of the people I’ve talked to claim to be avid devotees of the Royal Game. After all, ours is the "smart people's" game -- no one wants to be thought of as a poor player, or worse, totally ignorant of the game that's considered the world's foremost test of the intellectual faculties. "I love to play chess!" they'll exclaim. For most people, this can be accurately translated into, "Yeah, I know how the pieces move. Except for the horse. I always get confused with the horse."

We've all met them: the self-proclaimed chess enthusiast who likes to say they're "pretty good" and talk about how they know the "trick move" that can "beat anyone" in four moves. They're cocky, aloof, and a fall from the lofty perch on their high-horse is usually fatal. They delight in every check, something they never fail to announce boisterously and never without a self-satisfied smirk. To these guys, even the ego-deflating blow of a crushing defeat can be cushioned by the fact that they were able to yell "Check!" at their opponent three or four times in a game.

They probably mean well; after all, they're just trying to save face in the presence of a supposed "intellectual," or they're just totally ignorant of the depth of the game. I don't mind imparting some of the little knowledge I've accumulated to an eager mind who's willing to listen. But what's entertaining is when they're too proud to accept the advice of someone who actually knows something about chess because they think they were taught everything they needed to know about the game by their Uncle Elmo in the fourth grade. Here's a scenario:

You stop in to Mickey D's on your way home from your local club to grab a Supersized Number One. Carrying your roll-up board, the guy in line ahead of you asks you how long you've been playing chess. You tell him you've known how to play for a long time but have just recently discovered tournament chess. He grins and tells you he used to play in tournaments all the time, but hasn't played a serious game since he quit college to become a full-time Amway salesman. You nod, pay for your food and find a seat. You're surprised to see he's followed you.

He's got all the characteristics of your typical, eccentric chessplayer, as he just sits down across from you and looks around without saying anything. After a few bites of sandwich, you break the ice and ask him what his rating was when he quit playing.

"Oh, I didn't have one," he says.

"Really?" you ask, following up with the logical, "Well, how did you play in tournaments then?"

"I only played in the big invitationals," he replies, stretching his arms the length of the booth.

With a knowing smile, you offer a game in the most sincere voice you can muster. While you set up your pieces and he places his, he tells you an exciting tale about how he was the lunchroom champion at the Taco Bell on Locust Street "back in the day" and that he could've "gone professional" if he hadn't thrown out his back winning the bench press championship in high school, which prevents him from sitting down for long periods of time. As he's promising to take it easy on you, you point down at his side of the board indicating that his king and queen are on the wrong colors. He sheepishly corrects this oversight and the game begins . . .

"Well, at least I checked you a couple times," he says looking at the board, dejected. "I guess you know that trick." He tips his king in somber resignation after his over-simplified transposition of the Scholar’s Mate failed to take you out.

"Yeah, I’ve seen it once or twice," you say, thinking back to the K-3 scholastic tournament you helped direct a few months back. The kindergartener’s would’ve given his 2. Qh5 a double exclam.

"Let’s play another one –- I’ll play seriously this time," he says, resetting the pieces. This time he remembers 'queen to color.'

With renewed determination he stares intently at the board, his eyes darting back and forth, desperately calculating which opening trap to use. When his eyes stop their frantic shifting, you glance up and see by the look on his face he’s decided on the weapon in his extensive arsenal of trickery that will teach his seasoned antagonist a lesson. After a brief hesitation, he opens with the devastating 1. Na3.

Anyone care to guess the outcome?

After the game you offer to go over it with him. Since it only lasted a brief 18 moves before you stuck a royal fork in him, you’re eager to show your prospective pupil how a memory nourished on chess is supposed to function and what he could’ve done to prevent the loss of his queen and the game. Of course, he just rattles off some lame excuse about not feeling well and says he has to go, stealing a couple of fries from your tray before he bolts out the door. A typical response from an embarrassed wannabe whose bluff has been
called.

It’s interesting to think about the different correlations between life and chess and all the symbolic life lessons one can experience from playing the game. Benjamin Franklin was obviously aware of these when he wrote "The Morals of Chess*," but I doubt he knew just how far people would go to make others think their tactical prowess OTB is extraordinary.

Much like the military, chess isn’t for everyone. Some people can’t handle busted egos and most self-proclaimed chess aficionados don’t have the desire to sit down and actually study the game. Knowing how the pieces move is good enough for them, and they’re content to impress their uninformed friends and family members with all the variations of the Fool’s Mate. And hey, 'to each his own' as far as I'm concerned. But the next time you’re pontificating the pros and cons of the Yugoslav Attack in the Sicilian Defense with one of your fellow chess geeks and one of these clowns starts bragging himself up, talking about the “trick move” and how many times he checked Mildred the Avon lady, break out your set and board and ask the sensei for a lesson.

Talk may be cheap, but it sure is entertaining!

* The Morals of Chess, by Benjamin Franklin, can be found at:
http://www.bibliomania.com/2/9/77/124/21479/1/frameset.html

Copyright 2002-2005 by Matt Nemmers, all rights reserved.

About the Author

Matt Nemmers is a 31-year old chessplayer who is currently serving on active-duty in the U.S. Navy, which he has represented three times in Interservice competition versus the Army, Air Force and Marine Corps. He currently resides with his wife Amy and two daughters, Madeline and Grace, at their home in Fort Worth, Texas.

Though he's played chess most of his life, Matt played in his first rated tournament in April 1999. Since then, his hobby has blossomed into a full-blown obsession and he's organized and directed tournaments, served as an officer in the Iowa State Chess Association, and built websites dedicated to chess. (See http://www.iowachess.org, http://www.quadcitychess.com, and http://www.interservicechess.com for some of Matt's handiwork.) He is currently a Class 'B' player as rated by the USCF, but like most players, is always working to improve his game.

Content by Chess Samizdat

http://www.correspondencechess.com/samizdat/