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Thursday, November 27, 5pm
After a solid night’s sleep, the demands of here and now are threatening to wipe clean the slate of precscious memories which have accumulated over the past month and a half, and the flashbacks which they have served to retrieve. Before I lose some of these thoughts indefinitely I’ll subject you to them now.
My first Olympiad experience came in 1984, in Thessalonikki, Greece. This little sniffling player from India made his Olympic debut at the expense of our own Deen Hergott. I travelled with the team as a cheerleader and suitor of the latest chess sweetheart, Pia Cramling. It was a noble quest that went absolutely nowhere. Can’t blame a guy for trying! Life goes on and in 2003 with some help from Walter Arencibia I was able to track her down, along with her husband Juan Bellon (and daughter Anna) for a summer tour to Canada. She has returned a few times since. I ran into Juan (the Swedish women’s coach) at the Westin Bellevue in Dresden prior to the first round and told me that Pia would be coming with their daughter Anna for the Saturday round in order to minimize disruption at school. Sure enough, I bumped into Pia and Anna on Friday evening at the playing venue. The hug and peck on each cheek that would have rocked my world 24 years ago had moved into the category of pleasantry. She was looking for Juan and I directed her to their hotel. Later in the tournament, I had to encourage Anna to eat her potato chips more quietly, which she did.
The next Olympiad came in 1986 in Dubai. I had an official role this time as Counsellor for our FIDE Representative, the late John Prentice. The experience with Garry Kasparov would fill a whole chapter, so you’ll have to wait for the book. One of the images that stuck with me as our shuttle bus took us to our hotel was a group of kids playing soccer in the sand. The Opening ceremonies featured a live rendition of “The Evergreen Game” by the local Martial Arts club. As the night fell, an awesome fireworks display lit up the Dubai sky. In the first round, the little Indian player from 1984 no longer had a cold and he had graduated to first board for India where he held American Yasser Seirawan to a draw. Kevin Spraggett met his future wife. Deen Hergott returned to the team with greater confidence. Lawrence Day earned a bronze medal, deploying some wonderfully provocative moves in order to flag his Portuguese opponent enroute. In 2008, the Olympiad took place without Prentice, Spraggett, Hergott, Day, Seirwan or the little Indian boy, who was taking a well-earned rest after a successful title defence elsewhere in the country.
In 1988, the Olympiad returned to Thessalonikki. I had the pleasure of rooming with “the Nick”. The show-stopper this time around was the debut of Judith Polgar. The thirteen-year old prodigy (and her two sisters Susan and Sophia) led the Hungarian Women’s team to a gold medal, unseating the unseatable USSR. If memory serves, Pia Cramling and Susan Polgar battled to a draw in the final round. I was helping our new FIDE Rep Nathan Divinsky, and I scored free room and board by serving as Captain for the Women’s team. In one of the rounds, Nathan was busy in FIDE meetings, so I had to set our men’s lineup for the upcoming match with Germany. Pelts and Ivanov sat out, and we went with Tom O’Donnell, Bryon Nickoloff, Leon Piasetski and Deen Hergott – who had scalped US GM Sergei Kudrin in grand fashion. Everyone was playing well enough but this was a big test. When it was all over, our score was unchanged from the previous round. Ouch.
My Olympiad streak ended in Novi Sad, Serbia in 1990. I recall the return of the Polgars and bits of their match with the USSR. This time Nona Gapridishvili served Judith some humble pie and Susan took off Maya Chiburdanidze. Once again I was helping out Divinsky, and once again my rooming arrangements involved the Nick. It didn’t start out that way, but Bryon’s spirited nature was not compatible with the just any old dog. The most memorable moment came on a free day. On the previous night I had to carry Bryon back to the hotel on legs that were not much steadier than his, and the morning sun was an unwelcome intrusion to say the least. Our team was “treated” to a full day of planned events with our host sponsor. Finally we reached this ancient orthodox church. It had been an unseasonably warm day and the air was much colder inside, where you could see your breath. In preparation for a musical interlude we were each given a candle. A men’s choir then appeared and filled this acoustically profound chamber with an a capella performance that reverberated right down to my toes. The hangover vanished like a fleeting afterthought. My chin felt the warmth of the candle, my eyes could see the cold air clouding up each breath as my ears were flooded by the impossibly huge sounds of the choir. My oh my oh my!
The next Olympic memory is far more circuitous so work with me here. The year is 2005 and I am sleepless at the World Cup in Khanty Mansiysk, Siberia. At about 4am a men’s gymnastic competition is on TV featuring my favourite event, the still rings. I used to flop around on those devilish things on the high school team with little success, imagining new gravity defying strength moves in the spirit of Walter Mitty. The most outrageous of these was the Inverted Maltese Cross. It happens when you make like a jet plane with your arms as the wings, but you are flying upside down, looking upward. Back to Siberia. One of the competitors actually sticks my Inverted Maltese! I leap out of bed in disbelief. I can’t understand the Russian commentary but their enthusiasm is perceptible. Fewer, smaller muscles are holding the guy in place and it looks almost like a cartoon. Fast forward now to Beijing where Michael Phelps and Usain Bolt capture most of the headlines. Canada’s Kyle Shewfelt is covering the men’s gymnastics and he describes this strange new move called the Victorian, or Inverted Maltese (yes!) used by the French finalist. It was long considered impossible and the judges are still figuring out how to score it.
Now for the segue. Following the Beijing Olympics comes the Mind Sports Olympiad, where FIDE takes care of the chess competition. This Mind Sports angle is the most likely hook for chess with respect to the IOC. Being recognized by the IOC can lead to big privileges for the chess programs in many countries. Dress codes, doping control in top level chess events and even the “evil” zero default rule are driven in part by the quest to snuggle up to the IOC. Are these measures out of our context? The debate rages on.
After a solid night’s sleep, the demands of here and now are threatening to wipe clean the slate of precscious memories which have accumulated over the past month and a half, and the flashbacks which they have served to retrieve. Before I lose some of these thoughts indefinitely I’ll subject you to them now.
My first Olympiad experience came in 1984, in Thessalonikki, Greece. This little sniffling player from India made his Olympic debut at the expense of our own Deen Hergott. I travelled with the team as a cheerleader and suitor of the latest chess sweetheart, Pia Cramling. It was a noble quest that went absolutely nowhere. Can’t blame a guy for trying! Life goes on and in 2003 with some help from Walter Arencibia I was able to track her down, along with her husband Juan Bellon (and daughter Anna) for a summer tour to Canada. She has returned a few times since. I ran into Juan (the Swedish women’s coach) at the Westin Bellevue in Dresden prior to the first round and told me that Pia would be coming with their daughter Anna for the Saturday round in order to minimize disruption at school. Sure enough, I bumped into Pia and Anna on Friday evening at the playing venue. The hug and peck on each cheek that would have rocked my world 24 years ago had moved into the category of pleasantry. She was looking for Juan and I directed her to their hotel. Later in the tournament, I had to encourage Anna to eat her potato chips more quietly, which she did.
The next Olympiad came in 1986 in Dubai. I had an official role this time as Counsellor for our FIDE Representative, the late John Prentice. The experience with Garry Kasparov would fill a whole chapter, so you’ll have to wait for the book. One of the images that stuck with me as our shuttle bus took us to our hotel was a group of kids playing soccer in the sand. The Opening ceremonies featured a live rendition of “The Evergreen Game” by the local Martial Arts club. As the night fell, an awesome fireworks display lit up the Dubai sky. In the first round, the little Indian player from 1984 no longer had a cold and he had graduated to first board for India where he held American Yasser Seirawan to a draw. Kevin Spraggett met his future wife. Deen Hergott returned to the team with greater confidence. Lawrence Day earned a bronze medal, deploying some wonderfully provocative moves in order to flag his Portuguese opponent enroute. In 2008, the Olympiad took place without Prentice, Spraggett, Hergott, Day, Seirwan or the little Indian boy, who was taking a well-earned rest after a successful title defence elsewhere in the country.
In 1988, the Olympiad returned to Thessalonikki. I had the pleasure of rooming with “the Nick”. The show-stopper this time around was the debut of Judith Polgar. The thirteen-year old prodigy (and her two sisters Susan and Sophia) led the Hungarian Women’s team to a gold medal, unseating the unseatable USSR. If memory serves, Pia Cramling and Susan Polgar battled to a draw in the final round. I was helping our new FIDE Rep Nathan Divinsky, and I scored free room and board by serving as Captain for the Women’s team. In one of the rounds, Nathan was busy in FIDE meetings, so I had to set our men’s lineup for the upcoming match with Germany. Pelts and Ivanov sat out, and we went with Tom O’Donnell, Bryon Nickoloff, Leon Piasetski and Deen Hergott – who had scalped US GM Sergei Kudrin in grand fashion. Everyone was playing well enough but this was a big test. When it was all over, our score was unchanged from the previous round. Ouch.
My Olympiad streak ended in Novi Sad, Serbia in 1990. I recall the return of the Polgars and bits of their match with the USSR. This time Nona Gapridishvili served Judith some humble pie and Susan took off Maya Chiburdanidze. Once again I was helping out Divinsky, and once again my rooming arrangements involved the Nick. It didn’t start out that way, but Bryon’s spirited nature was not compatible with the just any old dog. The most memorable moment came on a free day. On the previous night I had to carry Bryon back to the hotel on legs that were not much steadier than his, and the morning sun was an unwelcome intrusion to say the least. Our team was “treated” to a full day of planned events with our host sponsor. Finally we reached this ancient orthodox church. It had been an unseasonably warm day and the air was much colder inside, where you could see your breath. In preparation for a musical interlude we were each given a candle. A men’s choir then appeared and filled this acoustically profound chamber with an a capella performance that reverberated right down to my toes. The hangover vanished like a fleeting afterthought. My chin felt the warmth of the candle, my eyes could see the cold air clouding up each breath as my ears were flooded by the impossibly huge sounds of the choir. My oh my oh my!
The next Olympic memory is far more circuitous so work with me here. The year is 2005 and I am sleepless at the World Cup in Khanty Mansiysk, Siberia. At about 4am a men’s gymnastic competition is on TV featuring my favourite event, the still rings. I used to flop around on those devilish things on the high school team with little success, imagining new gravity defying strength moves in the spirit of Walter Mitty. The most outrageous of these was the Inverted Maltese Cross. It happens when you make like a jet plane with your arms as the wings, but you are flying upside down, looking upward. Back to Siberia. One of the competitors actually sticks my Inverted Maltese! I leap out of bed in disbelief. I can’t understand the Russian commentary but their enthusiasm is perceptible. Fewer, smaller muscles are holding the guy in place and it looks almost like a cartoon. Fast forward now to Beijing where Michael Phelps and Usain Bolt capture most of the headlines. Canada’s Kyle Shewfelt is covering the men’s gymnastics and he describes this strange new move called the Victorian, or Inverted Maltese (yes!) used by the French finalist. It was long considered impossible and the judges are still figuring out how to score it.
Now for the segue. Following the Beijing Olympics comes the Mind Sports Olympiad, where FIDE takes care of the chess competition. This Mind Sports angle is the most likely hook for chess with respect to the IOC. Being recognized by the IOC can lead to big privileges for the chess programs in many countries. Dress codes, doping control in top level chess events and even the “evil” zero default rule are driven in part by the quest to snuggle up to the IOC. Are these measures out of our context? The debate rages on.
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