AThe Guardian London, Greater London, England Saturday, July 08, 1972 - Page 11
Pawns In Time by Michael Lake in Reykjavik
THERE was a breathless moment last night when the two greatest chess players in the world faced each other over the table on the stage — where the world's championship is to begin on Tuesday — and both of them lifted a pawn.
At this instance the air seemed to quiver. One of them was going to thrust his pawn down the board and the other would reply. Both men were oblivious to the crowd and to the officials addressing us. Fischer, bursting with energy was so tempted. Had he moved there is no doubt we would all have been hooked.
The board was displayed to the crowd on a giant closed-circuit television screen and on smaller screens dotted around the walls. One could see their fingers touching the chess men and feeling the weight.
We 200 or so far traveled chess fans or journalists were going to be privy to a magic moment in what has for so many years been regarded as a game for eggheads and grey-beards in total stupefying silence.
Nothing could be further from the truth here in Reykjavik. Fischer and Spassky, both keyed up to such a pitch that they have invested this world championship with the tension of a bullfight, promise a great display of gamesmanship during the next six weeks.
One cannot help being aware of Fischer's presence. He is a very tall solidly built man whose total dedication to chess is mesmerizing. He has great presence. He twitches, drums his fingers, sprawls in his chair, jumps up, walks around.
Spassky is entirely the opposite. Quiet but nervous and with the responsibility for maintaining Soviet domination of the chess world resting on his unhappy shoulders. For there is no doubt that Spassky has been driven to a distressing pitch of nervous tension by the trauma of the past few days. He is going through marital problems at home, and he knows that if he loses the match he will be discredited officially.
Today Spassky went walking, with only one companion, through the streets of Reykjavik. The air is clear after the events of the last few days, and perhaps he is more able now to relax.
Fischer spent the day as usual sound asleep. He did not get to bed until 6:30 this morning after driving with his police escort—like some oriental mogul — into the lava countryside of Iceland, and then to the American air force base at Keflavik, where he played indoor bowls for the rest of the night.
One uncertainty remains over everyone's heads. It has not been officially cleared up whether the Russians have withdrawn their demands that Fischer should forfeit a game for not having been here last Sunday, or whether Spassky will refuse in any case to accept the point.
The match officially began last night with the draw. So there is no legal basis for a forfeit even if there is still a moral excuse for the Soviet demand. The big question is if Spassky's title depends on one game will the Russians demand the forfeit in six weeks' time when the match is over?
