AThe Oshkosh Northwestern Oshkosh, Wisconsin Wednesday, July 12, 1972 - Page 13
Fischer's Brashness Admired by Milton Richman
New York (UPI) — “Do you play chess?”
“No,” said Wes Parker, first baseman for the Los Angeles Dodgers and owner of one of baseball's more active minds, “but I'm interested in the game.”
“You mean the world championship going on in Iceland now?”
“Yes, I'm following it.”
“Because of this guy Fischer?”
“He's the main reason, I suppose.”
“How do you feel about him, do you like him or not?”
“I like him.”
“Why?”
Wes Parker mulled it over awhile.
“I like him because he has —s.” said Parker, using a word which is perfectly okay in a baseball clubhouse but not in a family newspaper, a word meaning not only brass but much more, and one which describes Bobby Fischer, the pensive, seemingly strange chess genius from Brooklyn perhaps better than any other word you can think of.
Chess dates back to antiquity and has been called the most serious game played by man.
It's such a serious game and requires so much concentration, relatively few men play it. Less than 5 per cent in the United States even know the rules but an astonishingly large percentage has been begun following the game the past few weeks.
Only because of Bobby Fischer.
Here's a pale, studious, almost timid-looking 29-year-old one-time Boy Wonder who makes guys like Joe Namath and Dick Allen look like a couple of amateurs when it comes to doing his own thing, his own way and in his own good time.
The opening match in Reykjavik Tuesday was a perfect example.
Word had filtered down that Fischer was “go, go, go” for that first match with Boris Spassky, Russia's world champion.
All the embroidery had been taken care of. The drapes, the TV cameras, the light, the chess board, all the things Fischer had kicked about.
Spassky was all set.
Everyone in the Reykjavik Chess Hall was holding his breath as the Russian, playing the white pieces, made the first move, opening with the Queen pawn.
The world championship officially was on.
But something was missing.
Fischer.
He wasn't there. What was the rush? He had an hour before he had to make the first move. Fischer didn't set out to keep Spassky waiting. He didn't do it purposely. The official clock was ticking but he didn't care. Bobby Fischer ALWAYS is late. He has been late for more important things than a chess match. Even a world championship one.
And bet on it, he'll be late again. That's the way he is.
Finally, after eight minutes, during which time Spassky got up impatiently and walked around, Fischer appeared.
He shook hands with Spassky and then sat down in his special swivel chair which he had flown in from New York for these championships.
Fischer studied the board two minutes, then made his first move, knight to King bishop three.
In his own mind, Fischer feels he's one little guy taking on the whole Russian government. He doesn't feel this way because of any politics, the usual politics between countries, that is, but because of chess politics.
Regardless, he always played to win.
Tuesday's first game was adjourned, meaning each man had made his allotted 40 moves in the five-hour time limit with no decision being reached. When the game is resumed today, Spassky will have the upper hand although Fischer can still get a draw.
In this first of 24 games, Spassky played the way everybody thought he would—conservatively. That figured because if this whole business winds up even, say 12-12, Spassky goes back home to Russia the same way he came to Reykjavik—world champion.
Fischer has the first move in Thursday's second game, though.
Watch him go!
He'll play a completely different game. You can bet on that, too.
Wes Parker doesn't have to be a chess expert.
He's still got Bobby Fischer tagged perfectly.
