Over the years, I've often seen people questioning why chess is not as popular as poker, foolishly failing to realise the VAST amount of reasons why this will never be the case. Because really, when it comes down to it, how many of us will truly achieve glory in the world of chess? Are us mere mortals going to confidently enter the arena, and take down grandmaster after grandmaster to win the event of the century? This is moderately unlikely to occur.
But, I have an idea. An idea that will allow those who do not live and breathe chess to have their moment in the spotlight. Imagine this scenario: you're playing in a tournament. You beat some newbies, you lose to some grandmasters, and end up with a mediocre score. You then sit around, watching the awards ceremony and glaring at those winning hundreds of thousands of dollars in prize money; wondering how many of their houses you'll be able to egg with the money you have not already squandered on alcohol to drown your sorrows.
Clearly, this is not a situation you want to find yourself in. But, let's examine a different scenario. You have not won any prize money, and yet, the tournament director calls out your name. What's this? You've been randomly selected to win a mystery prize. Suddenly, everything is good again. You're running out of money and bordering on alcoholism, yet you cannot help but smile in happiness. So, you take your mystery prize; the crowd cheering and chanting your name as you raise it into the air triumphantly. "This," you think to yourself, "is what chess is all about."
So, you take your mystery prize home. You open the package in glee; mind racing at the possibilities of its contents. You sift through the protective particles contained within, but all that you can find is a single tape. Rushing over to your old stereo, you place the tape inside and press play, expecting some clue as to where your real mystery prize is. But there is no clue. For your mystery prize is not a new car or a trip to California. Your mystery prize is a tape. A tape that has spooky noises.
But, I have an idea. An idea that will allow those who do not live and breathe chess to have their moment in the spotlight. Imagine this scenario: you're playing in a tournament. You beat some newbies, you lose to some grandmasters, and end up with a mediocre score. You then sit around, watching the awards ceremony and glaring at those winning hundreds of thousands of dollars in prize money; wondering how many of their houses you'll be able to egg with the money you have not already squandered on alcohol to drown your sorrows.
Clearly, this is not a situation you want to find yourself in. But, let's examine a different scenario. You have not won any prize money, and yet, the tournament director calls out your name. What's this? You've been randomly selected to win a mystery prize. Suddenly, everything is good again. You're running out of money and bordering on alcoholism, yet you cannot help but smile in happiness. So, you take your mystery prize; the crowd cheering and chanting your name as you raise it into the air triumphantly. "This," you think to yourself, "is what chess is all about."
So, you take your mystery prize home. You open the package in glee; mind racing at the possibilities of its contents. You sift through the protective particles contained within, but all that you can find is a single tape. Rushing over to your old stereo, you place the tape inside and press play, expecting some clue as to where your real mystery prize is. But there is no clue. For your mystery prize is not a new car or a trip to California. Your mystery prize is a tape. A tape that has spooky noises.
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