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Out Clubbin':Chess Club

January 30, 2008

"My life was missing some edge."

by Manuel Perez

OutClubbin.jpgGoing incognito as an actual person who does things and cares about stuff, reporter Manny Perez will be exploring and documenting the many clubs and organizations here at TJ so you don’t have to; because that would be, you know, work.

Club Statement
"Chess is an exercise of infinite possibilities for the mind, one which develops mental abilities used throughout life: concentration, critical thinking, abstract reasoning, problem solving, pattern recognition, strategic planning, creativity, analysis, synthesis, and evaluation, to name a few." – The Connecticut State Chess Association

The Setting
    The Chess Club collects in the bright and spacious room 108, or more commonly known as the place we all had to line-up to enter and get our ID photos taken. With a bust of our namesake (Thomas Jefferson) watching from a corner, the environment is anything but ill-equipped to serve the needs of any small organization, maybe even two or three at the same time. Sprawling over a wall-to-wall stretch of gritty, DPS sanctioned but still contemporary carpet, lies a little over half-a-dozen haphazardly arranged rectangular tables and more than three times as many chairs. The place is usually spotless and light-filled, ideal for any kind of planned meeting, and barely offset by the presence of horizontally stacked tables, leaning together on one stretch of the wall.

Operation: Zwischenzug
    After grabbing my lunch from the always-reliable calzone-and-pizza-guy and finally squeezing my way through the huge throng that always congeals at the mouth of the cafeteria, I found myself at the entrance to room 108. After adjusting my pocket protector and turning my glasses fashionably askew in a mirror, I step into the brightly lit space that emanates a library’s silence.

    About ten people are sitting arbitrarily around the tables in pairs, each with a chessboard in-between them, no noticeable leader visible. Members mumble and make concentrated faces to themselves as they push black and white pieces in geometric sweeps of the hand, while occasionally slapping down on a square block to their side. Sporadically, one of the players lets out a laugh or a jeer on how pathetic that last move was, and it dawns on me that these people are normal. I hastily remove my protector and glasses and look for a seat.

    Sitting down close to some players, I unfold my lunch and journalistically observe my surroundings for a minute without attracting too much attention. Strategically snapping open my soda can, one or two members shoot me a glance before returning to their games. I sit there for another minute or two, making note of the tiny duffel bags they use to store their boards and pieces, and the general lighthearted mood when I’m invited to play a game.

    I’m quick to confess that I’m not too good at the game, as I shift over two seats to an already set board. I understand the overall rules and the direction of the pieces and such, but I still find myself always losing to my illiterate brother whenever he decides to spring the checkered field on me. Fortunately for my ego though, my casual adversary admits to a similar incompetence, but gratefully accepting the obvious generosity, I take it as, "I’ll go easy on you.”

    For the next twenty minutes or so, the Spartan Edition’s Justin Tara and I barrage each other with teeny miniature horses, castles, and round things I know are called pawns; me on black, Justin on white. I arrange moves on the formulation of feeble plans that would ultimately unfold after my opponent moved anything; Justin faithfully taking a piece of mine only once in awhile.

    Next I was introduced to the timer thing. It’s a short, black, four-sided box with two clock faces on the side, and two gold buttons on top, for the apparent use of timing the turns of both players. When one player finishes thinking and moves a piece, he hits his respective button while simultaneously signifying the other player’s turn, which then starts his clock (he who runs out of time before the game has ended loses). Ours was broken, according to Justin, but nevertheless he urged me to carry on the ritual, and I obliged in a happily bemused sort of way. Half the time I forgot to press the button, maybe even catching a sigh as my opponent had to punch it down twice, but either way I was having fun with the little gizmo.

    Slowly, as I began to overtake the board with black, I realized I was winning. Suddenly, in a wave of premonition that I might actually step out of here with a victory under my belt, I started making some rather brilliant moves. My queen was apparently always in the perfect position. Pawns traversed the squares with ease. I was not only going to win, I was going to massacre my opponent. Then the 10-minute bell rings.

    My royal bubble then decides to burst. Justin starts making a few sacrificing moves to move the game along: turns have apparently gone by slowly. He considers forfeiting. I knock down his pieces like dominoes now, and eventually he pushes the crowned king to the floor.

I win.

Justin surrenders. It’s the most transparent victory ever, but I still have a stupid grin on my face. Yay.

    Strangely enough, I don’t find myself darting from shadow to shadow in a hurried attempt to leave (as I had envisioned myself beforehand), but rather I step through the door frame with my chest thrown out, a feeling of elation, and in the clear view of everyone passing by. Still beaming, I strut away to my upper-floor locker, looking now at the checkered floor from a new perspective.

The Specifics
Asking Justin on the exact Where and When, he cordially responds:
“Chess club happens every Tuesday and Thursday in room 108. It’s just a bunch of people who wanna come and relax, play some chess, and have some fun. I think it’s a great idea and I’m glad they started one at TJ. Really balances my life out. I’ve noticed my stress level has gone down rapidly.”
 

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Written by Manny Perez · Filed Under Clubs, Headlines, Living & Arts, Out Clubbin'