Searching for Bobby Fischer (33 page)

Nevertheless, the general health of chess in the United States is on the upswing. Each year since 1983, when I first began exploring the chess world with Josh, there has been a modest increase in the prize funds of major tournaments, and more tournaments are being played in attractive hotels, rather than dingy rooms like the Bar Point, which no longer exists. Each year the scholastic chess world has grown in size and enthusiasm, and in 1988 the National Elementary Championship in Detroit will have nearly one thousand children competing, almost twice the turnout of five years ago. This July the United States Chess Federation will send a team of eight boys and girls between the ages of nine and sixteen to Timisoara, Rumania, to compete in the world youth championship, and our team, at least on paper, is as strong as any in the world, including the Soviet Union’s.

JOSH IS NOW
eleven. Currently his rating is 2101, the highest for his age in the United States, and this summer he will be the U.S. representative in the under-twelve division of the world youth championship. Ever since he received his invitation to compete in Rumania I have been distracted by daydreams of his crushing the best kids from Bulgaria, Hungary, Yugoslavia, Poland, Rumania and Russia. Whenever I bring up the possibility of his winning the world championship, Josh dutifully says, “Awesome,” but I can tell that he dreams of other things.

Each week Josh studies chess openings with International Master Victor Frias and endings with Bruce Pandolfini. A few days ago Bruce told me that our son had grown too strong for him to teach further, and that next fall it would be best for him to begin studying the endgame with a grandmaster. When I mentioned this to Josh, he cried, insisting that Bruce was wrong.

Several weeks ago Josh played in a simultaneous exhibition in the Bronx against world champion Gary Kasparov, along with fifty-eight
other children. For the past few weeks he had been playing without passion or concentration, but against Kasparov it was as if his honor were at stake. For two hours he was oblivious to television crews and flashing cameras; with pink-flushed cheeks and hands shielding his eyes, he stared relentlessly at the game. The world champion raced from board to board, hardly pausing to consider his moves, but time and again he would stop at my son’s game for two or three minutes, scratch his short black hair, grimace, calculate, rock back on his heels and then smile at Josh, shake his head and think some more. Josh was so focused on the game that he didn’t seem to notice Kasparov’s special attention until after the twenty-eighth move, when the world champion offered his hand and said, “Draw.” Then Josh pumped the air once with his fist, just as he does on the playground in pickup games with his buddies after scoring the winning basket.

Josh was one of two who achieved a draw against Kasparov, the other being fourteen-year-old K. K. Karanja. Afterward chess masters speculated whether an eleven-year-old had ever drawn with a world champion in a simultaneous exhibition. Someone said that when Botvinnik was twelve, he beat Capablanca. Ten minutes later I was still trembling with excitement and Josh was being interviewed by one of the TV networks. When the reporter asked my son about his career aspirations, I overheard Josh answer that he hoped someday to play second base for the New York Mets.