His handlers could not hold him back: “You will see that I will beat all of them at once!”
Krazinsky burst onto the playing floor to find the next 19 highest rated players in the world, waiting for his simultaneous exhibition. The top-rated computer was here, too, lifting the total to an even 20 opponents.
The deals, money, and other favors that went into arranging the participation of all provided enough back-door drama for a best seller, but that didn’t matter now. The result did.
For Krazinsky the sponsor had put up $5,000,000, with an incentive of $1,000,000 for twenty wins.
No one doubted that “K” was a unique player in the history of chess. His flamboyance matched his chess prowess. Fischer had claimed never to have made a mistake in analysis; with Krazinsky they were always trying to prove that he had made one over-the-board.
K did not ask for all Whites. Colors were determined by a random number generator. The top players would not play K against himself on any two boards of opposite colors – what would that prove, for players of that level?
Krazinsky shook hands with the Prime Minister and addressed the crowd: the live ones, the TV audience, and the Web. He boasted about all the usual crazy things, about self, dominance, and chess, but many of those watching ate it up anyway. Signs in the audience read “White-‘em-out Kraz!” “Drive ‘em Krazy!” and “20-0 or Bust!” The playing floor was part of a large convention hall, which was replete with chess drapings and a hundred and fifty vendors selling everything from “K Kandy” to “Chess-ready computers.” The online commentators were ready to transmit every move instantly to all corners of the globe. The playing area itself was a slightly raised platform with 20 beautiful inlaid tables and special chairs of all sizes and shapes. Scalpers had sold the closest seats for ten times their list price – one selling on E-Bay for fifty times.
K expected to win all twenty games, but any score over 10 wins and 10 draws would be sensational, considering the opposition. Fischer had won 20 games in a row (19 if you don’t count a forfeit) against the best players in the world, but he hadn’t been playing them all at the same time! If there was anything surer than K’s dominance, it was his feeling of invincibility.
After the head of the chess federation made a short and forgettable speech, he introduced a beautiful young woman, who proceeded to play a little fanfare on her flute. That signaled the start – and off went K.
At first he literally ran down the line of boards, twirling pieces left and right like firecrackers about to explode. No crazy openings – just the usual state-of-the-art stuff that K had made so popular. The chess public was happy: everyone wanted to play the openings that were championed by the world’s best player.
As each opening would reach the point of theoretical interest, the game would slow down. Either K or, more likely, the opponent, would find himself facing a new move. This signaled some real thought about the resultant positions “Is that novelty good, or just new? “What to do?” The advantage would lie with the player who had made the new move, for he had probably used computers for weeks to study the most likely replies. Sometimes K had the time advantage, for his opponent would have to move upon his arrival at the board, while he could wait as long as he wanted to reply. But of course the advantage was usually the other way around, as all 19 other opponents could think while K was thinking at each table.
Three games ended relatively quickly, within the first ninety minutes. In two, K had found new ways for Black to force a draw from positions thought previously to be good for White, once by a stunning perpetual and the other through a cute type of blockade. In the third of these quick games K’s novelty provided too much for the 17th ranked player, who succumbed quickly to a brilliant attack.
In almost all of the remaining games K had either an even position or an advantage. The World’s #2, who really hadn’t been pursuing K for a match, looked especially sullen as he wondered whether he could hold his passive position. World #8 was looking at the bad side of a brilliancy, and wishing he could find a line which would get it to 26 moves, thus avoiding a “miniature.” The world’s top woman player, #11, had gotten a satisfactory opening, but a minor slip, unnoticeable to all but the all-time greats, had left her with only nebulous drawing chances. K was putting the squeeze on the computer, having avoided the sharpest lines; it was no match for his long-term positional pressure.
At five hours Krazinsky took a break for a short meal and a trip to the restroom. The score at that point was +7 –0 = 3, with exactly half of the boards reset to the initial position to indicate the game’s completion. All of the games mentioned above had been won by K except for the one against the computer. In that game the squeeze had worked, and the multi-gigahertz calculator was facing a very long endgame defense which looked hopeless. Before stepping back up onto the playing platform to continue, K grabbed the microphone.
“I am sorry I cannot win them all, but that’s the way chess is sometimes. Stick with me for another hour or two and see if anyone else can draw!”
Two did. In one, K ended up with a Rook and two pawns vs. a Rook and one, but all the pawns were on the same side, and even K knew that a win was not possible (not that he didn’t try for a while, to the annoyance of his opponent). The other draw was more interesting. In a position where K had two Bishops and three pawns against a Queen and two pawns, he managed to create an interested blockade where his opponent clearly could not make progress.
The eight others fell. Five had been foregone conclusions since the middlegame. The World #3 looked for a long time like he might draw, but got into time trouble as K began to circle faster and faster, and finally blundered in a position where the computers later found a nifty drawing maneuver. World #6 took a sharp middlegame down to where there were only two games left, but there K actually got to take more time than he (as in the other game K was moving fast) and that was the telling factor. The final game left was a long endgame which looked winning for K, but required lots of special technique. K had it in spades.
15 wins and 5 draws against the best other 20 players in the world – well, at least the other 19, since there were lots of computers that might claim to be in the Top 20. Only K and his top supporters were disappointed – the “Over/Under” betting had been 15.5 points, and his 17.5 had beaten that easily. They would never prove that any of his positions had been positively lost.
K stepped out of the playing area, gladly shaking hands with anyone within reach. He headed for the batch of microphones which had been set up for the post-event press conference. The media included The Wall Street Journal, The London Times, ESPN, CNN, and the Chess Channel.
“I am the greatest!” thundered K. He looked somewhat haggard, but more than made up for it in buoyancy. No doubt he had been watching old tapes of Muhammed Ali and was hoping for similar marketing success. “Steinitz challenged God to a match with pawn and move and I could have given Steinitz the same! That makes me more than perfect. You can talk about your Capablancas, Fischers, and Kasparovs, but the name Krazinsky will live on long after everyone has forgotten about chess itself!”
Reflecting his passion, the local fans exploded in applause and cheers: “K!… K!…Yeah!…K!” Krazinsky in turn looked less haggard, drawing energy from the crowd to pump his fists while the cameras swiveled around to catch him mugging with some of the prettiest of the locals.
He walked back to the mikes and glowed: “No one can touch me…chess is life itself…superiority of the intellect…triumph of the mind…”
Krazinsky ravings were nothing new, and everyone was happy to let him continue for a while. Then, finally, the media had theirs clips and sound bites and the crowd had heard enough and they began to leave, first slowly and then in bigger waves. The mass exodus finally caught Krazinsky’s eye and, without an audience to feed him, he slowly wound down. Soon after, much more quietly, the men came, helped Krazinsky back into his white jacket, and led him back toward his room until next time.
Krazinsky burst onto the playing floor to find the next 19 highest rated players in the world, waiting for his simultaneous exhibition. The top-rated computer was here, too, lifting the total to an even 20 opponents.
The deals, money, and other favors that went into arranging the participation of all provided enough back-door drama for a best seller, but that didn’t matter now. The result did.
For Krazinsky the sponsor had put up $5,000,000, with an incentive of $1,000,000 for twenty wins.
No one doubted that “K” was a unique player in the history of chess. His flamboyance matched his chess prowess. Fischer had claimed never to have made a mistake in analysis; with Krazinsky they were always trying to prove that he had made one over-the-board.
K did not ask for all Whites. Colors were determined by a random number generator. The top players would not play K against himself on any two boards of opposite colors – what would that prove, for players of that level?
Krazinsky shook hands with the Prime Minister and addressed the crowd: the live ones, the TV audience, and the Web. He boasted about all the usual crazy things, about self, dominance, and chess, but many of those watching ate it up anyway. Signs in the audience read “White-‘em-out Kraz!” “Drive ‘em Krazy!” and “20-0 or Bust!” The playing floor was part of a large convention hall, which was replete with chess drapings and a hundred and fifty vendors selling everything from “K Kandy” to “Chess-ready computers.” The online commentators were ready to transmit every move instantly to all corners of the globe. The playing area itself was a slightly raised platform with 20 beautiful inlaid tables and special chairs of all sizes and shapes. Scalpers had sold the closest seats for ten times their list price – one selling on E-Bay for fifty times.
K expected to win all twenty games, but any score over 10 wins and 10 draws would be sensational, considering the opposition. Fischer had won 20 games in a row (19 if you don’t count a forfeit) against the best players in the world, but he hadn’t been playing them all at the same time! If there was anything surer than K’s dominance, it was his feeling of invincibility.
After the head of the chess federation made a short and forgettable speech, he introduced a beautiful young woman, who proceeded to play a little fanfare on her flute. That signaled the start – and off went K.
At first he literally ran down the line of boards, twirling pieces left and right like firecrackers about to explode. No crazy openings – just the usual state-of-the-art stuff that K had made so popular. The chess public was happy: everyone wanted to play the openings that were championed by the world’s best player.
As each opening would reach the point of theoretical interest, the game would slow down. Either K or, more likely, the opponent, would find himself facing a new move. This signaled some real thought about the resultant positions “Is that novelty good, or just new? “What to do?” The advantage would lie with the player who had made the new move, for he had probably used computers for weeks to study the most likely replies. Sometimes K had the time advantage, for his opponent would have to move upon his arrival at the board, while he could wait as long as he wanted to reply. But of course the advantage was usually the other way around, as all 19 other opponents could think while K was thinking at each table.
Three games ended relatively quickly, within the first ninety minutes. In two, K had found new ways for Black to force a draw from positions thought previously to be good for White, once by a stunning perpetual and the other through a cute type of blockade. In the third of these quick games K’s novelty provided too much for the 17th ranked player, who succumbed quickly to a brilliant attack.
In almost all of the remaining games K had either an even position or an advantage. The World’s #2, who really hadn’t been pursuing K for a match, looked especially sullen as he wondered whether he could hold his passive position. World #8 was looking at the bad side of a brilliancy, and wishing he could find a line which would get it to 26 moves, thus avoiding a “miniature.” The world’s top woman player, #11, had gotten a satisfactory opening, but a minor slip, unnoticeable to all but the all-time greats, had left her with only nebulous drawing chances. K was putting the squeeze on the computer, having avoided the sharpest lines; it was no match for his long-term positional pressure.
At five hours Krazinsky took a break for a short meal and a trip to the restroom. The score at that point was +7 –0 = 3, with exactly half of the boards reset to the initial position to indicate the game’s completion. All of the games mentioned above had been won by K except for the one against the computer. In that game the squeeze had worked, and the multi-gigahertz calculator was facing a very long endgame defense which looked hopeless. Before stepping back up onto the playing platform to continue, K grabbed the microphone.
“I am sorry I cannot win them all, but that’s the way chess is sometimes. Stick with me for another hour or two and see if anyone else can draw!”
Two did. In one, K ended up with a Rook and two pawns vs. a Rook and one, but all the pawns were on the same side, and even K knew that a win was not possible (not that he didn’t try for a while, to the annoyance of his opponent). The other draw was more interesting. In a position where K had two Bishops and three pawns against a Queen and two pawns, he managed to create an interested blockade where his opponent clearly could not make progress.
The eight others fell. Five had been foregone conclusions since the middlegame. The World #3 looked for a long time like he might draw, but got into time trouble as K began to circle faster and faster, and finally blundered in a position where the computers later found a nifty drawing maneuver. World #6 took a sharp middlegame down to where there were only two games left, but there K actually got to take more time than he (as in the other game K was moving fast) and that was the telling factor. The final game left was a long endgame which looked winning for K, but required lots of special technique. K had it in spades.
15 wins and 5 draws against the best other 20 players in the world – well, at least the other 19, since there were lots of computers that might claim to be in the Top 20. Only K and his top supporters were disappointed – the “Over/Under” betting had been 15.5 points, and his 17.5 had beaten that easily. They would never prove that any of his positions had been positively lost.
K stepped out of the playing area, gladly shaking hands with anyone within reach. He headed for the batch of microphones which had been set up for the post-event press conference. The media included The Wall Street Journal, The London Times, ESPN, CNN, and the Chess Channel.
“I am the greatest!” thundered K. He looked somewhat haggard, but more than made up for it in buoyancy. No doubt he had been watching old tapes of Muhammed Ali and was hoping for similar marketing success. “Steinitz challenged God to a match with pawn and move and I could have given Steinitz the same! That makes me more than perfect. You can talk about your Capablancas, Fischers, and Kasparovs, but the name Krazinsky will live on long after everyone has forgotten about chess itself!”
Reflecting his passion, the local fans exploded in applause and cheers: “K!… K!…Yeah!…K!” Krazinsky in turn looked less haggard, drawing energy from the crowd to pump his fists while the cameras swiveled around to catch him mugging with some of the prettiest of the locals.
He walked back to the mikes and glowed: “No one can touch me…chess is life itself…superiority of the intellect…triumph of the mind…”
Krazinsky ravings were nothing new, and everyone was happy to let him continue for a while. Then, finally, the media had theirs clips and sound bites and the crowd had heard enough and they began to leave, first slowly and then in bigger waves. The mass exodus finally caught Krazinsky’s eye and, without an audience to feed him, he slowly wound down. Soon after, much more quietly, the men came, helped Krazinsky back into his white jacket, and led him back toward his room until next time.