ANew York Times, New York, New York, Saturday, July 01, 1972 - Page 20
Chess Puzzle
Two theories have been put forward to explain Bobby Fischer's erratic behavior on the even of the scheduled beginning tomorrow of his world championship match against Boris Spassky in Reykjavik. One view is that he is simply acting out an old chess tradition, waging psychological warfare against Spassky, creating uncertainties and tensions for the Soviet titleholder that he hopes will weaken Spassky's play when the battle actually begins. The second theory is that Fischer has become unduly money-conscious after a lifetime of relative poverty, and really may endanger the Reykjavik match and his chance for the title by insisting upon a greater financial return than he had originally agreed to accept.
([Third theory (not offered by NY Times): What Fischer actually ended up doing with the money. He gave most of the prize money away to the cult. It was “urgent urgency,” the church “needed” it, doomsday alarms and all. What Bobby didn't give, Stanley Rader, stepping in to act as Fischer's lawyer, took. Bobby reported in 1976 he was left with nothing but a few assets.])
Whatever Fischer's motives, his failure to show up in Reykjavik and his belated demand for a share of the gate receipts have projected a less than desirable image to the worldwide public fascinated by the title contest. Predictably the Soviet press has begun denouncing Bobby as some sort of money-hungry monster — neglecting to mention, of course, that Fischer and other American chess stars must live by their own earnings and are not subsidized by their government as are Soviet sportsmen.
Nevertheless if Bobby Fischer is creating the present chaos for monetary reasons, he is making a mistake from his own point of view. He may lose the chance to win the world championship, and that chance may never return. If he plays in Reykjavik and wins—as he has an excellent chance of doing—his prospective earnings would make the amount he is arguing about now seem infinitesimal. For his own sake—as well as for the sake of chess—Bobby Fischer ought to get on the first plane, fly to Reykjavik and settle down to playing the best chess of his life.
