AThe Times Munster, Indiana Sunday, July 02, 1972 - Page 46
World Title Match in Secret
New York (UPI)—The more Bobby Fischer thinks about it the more it bugs him.
Why Reykjavik, Iceland?
“Why not Rome?” Fischer would like to know.
“Why not Paris, Oslo, Zurich, Dallas or New York? Or even Moscow? Any large city where there's people, activity and decent restaurants would be fine. Some place at least where there's something to do at night.”
Bobby Fischer, America's 29-year-old chess genius, has a theory about why Reykjavik was picked as the site of the world championship which starts this Sunday.
The Russians are the ones who picked Reykjavik.
Fischer thinks the Russians have a motive.
HE THINKS they want to “hide” the championship because he feels he's going to take it from the Soviet Union's Boris Spassky. What's more, Fischer thinks the Russians know he's going to do it.
In this own way, Fischer is a demonstrator.
He has been demonstrating the way he feels about having to play in Reykjavik by taking his good old time getting there.
This has shaken up a lot of people but Fischer had a reason for his actions. Call it oneupsmanship if you like.
Boris Spassky needn't worry about Fischer not making it for their first match though.
Mainly because he thinks he's going to win.
I wouldn't be at all surprised if he's right, and that has nothing to do with chauvinism.
Spassky is good, but Fischer is better, and when the tall, curly-haired New Yorker is right, he's like Joe Frazier and Tom Seaver when they're right. Meaning nobody's going to beat him.
Fischer doesn't hold back.
He is exceptionally outspoken and honest, and when you hear his objections to playing in Reykjavik, they do make a good deal of sense.
Fischer has been there, so when he talks about Reykjavik he isn't doing so from hearsay but from personal experience. He says there is so little to do there, particularly at night, a guy can go out of his ever-loving mind.
NOT THAT Fischer is a rounder. If anything, he's much more of a loner, but there are times he would like to become part of the general mix, or at least observe it, and how can he possibly do that when there is no general mix?
He also says the television coverage will be limited. If he beats Spassky, he doesn't see why it should be some kind of secret.
Fischer originally planned to go to the world championships with only one
other person; Spassky is already in Reykjavik with what amounts to an entourage. Fischer reads significance into that also because the championship goes on for some time and while Spassky will have people to talk to and help him relax, Fischer won't.
Fischer doesn't think any of these things are pure accidents. He sees them all as part of a general program by the Soviets to try to beat him psychologically.
“THE WORLD champion has the right to pick the site of the championships,” says Fischer.
“Spassky wasn't even there when the international governing body chose the site. A Russian delegation was there and they picked the site.”
Fischer feels the championships have become a political matter. That annoys him.
But it hasn't lessened any of his desire to beat Spassky. Fisher has a lot of that same “killer instinct” Jack Dempsey had when he was fighting. Some of that instinct shows up even when he's not sitting at the chess board.
Earlier this month, for example, he competed with 15 other top athletes in the Dewars Sports Celebrity tennis championships at LaCosta, Calif., and it was a little funny to watch such headliners as Rick Barry, Deacon Jones and Elgin Baylor all ask Fischer for his autograph.
IN THE FINALS of the tournament, Hank Greenberg, the baseball Hall of Famer, and Bob Boyd, the basketball coach at Southern California, beat 0. J. Simpson and Gail Goodrich for the title. Bobby Fischer was among the losers. “Next year,” he said. “I'm going to win.” He said it as if he meant it, too.
