Although I seldom mention it, my wife writes a blog on quilting (which she started a year before I started this one). Last week she wrote a hilarious post on buttons. You would think that of all the topics in the world, the least likely one to be funny is buttons. If you think that, you owe it to yourself to click on the link and read her post!
Anyway, that got me thinking: I really don’t have very much humor in this here chess blog. Mostly it’s pretty dead serious stuff. Maybe the only funny post I’ve ever written, in a sly way, was this one, but that’s only because I was telling someone else’s story.
So I thought, why not write a post about the funniest thing that’s ever happened to me in a chess game? Or the funniest thing I’ve ever seen at a tournament? It sounded like a great idea. And then I started thinking…
And thinking…
And thinking…
And I couldn’t come up with a single one! Maybe I’m just humor-impaired. Or maybe nothing funny ever happens in chess. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s impossible to remember a funny story from a completely cold start. Usually I tell a funny story because somebody else said something that reminded me of it.
However, some of my readers must have more skill at this than I do. Please tickle our funny bones with your funniest chess story! There’s no time limit… If you come upon this post five years from now, I’d still like to hear what you have to say.
If you insist, here are my really lame contributions.
Funniest thing I’ve seen in a tournament: Was probably when I saw two players who were both rockers. At one point they were rocking back and forth in perfect unison, so that their foreheads came within a couple inches of hitting each other. I kept waiting for them to hit, but they never did. Which means that this funny story lacks a punch line.
Funniest story from a tournament: I once went to a World Open with Bill Mason, who at that time was the strongest undergraduate chess player at Duke. Bill fit every stereotype you might have about a male Duke student: brash, self-confident, obnoxious, and definitely a male chauvinist. So it was great to watch him get taken down by a woman who was the ladies’ champion of Costa Rica (or some Latin American country). You’d think he would be embarrassed, right? Wrong! After the game he said he lost because he couldn’t think of anything else but her beautiful eyes! Leave it to Bill to lose a game because he fell in love with his opponent.
Funniest anecdote I’ve read: I think a lot of humor comes from personalities, the more outsized the better. Somehow a few years ago I picked up a book called Viktors Pupols: American Master by Larry Parr (1982), which is absolutely a raw gem. The best parts of it are the accounts of Pupols’ rivalry with Jim McCormick; the two of them were for many years the two strongest players in Washington, until Yasser Seirawan showed up. Here is a magnificent story that Parr tells about a game from the 1964 Puget Sound Open. In this case Parr is only the compiler of the tale. The first paragraph comes from an article by Cal Bertram, and the second and third paragraphs are quotes from Pupols himself:
“After finishing his game… it seemed that Jim’s ‘brilliant’ victory had filled his cup to overflowing with human kindness. Seeking to impart his vast store of chess knowledge to those more unfortunate than himself, he proceeded to help Leslie Vitanyi in his game with Viktors Pupols. However, Pupols did not see eye to eye with ‘Big’ Jim. This was made quite clear when the relative silence was broken by the clatter of flying chairs and the thud of McCormick’s body hitting a table…”
[Pupols:] “Those were our salad days. We were the young whippersnappers back then, and the blood warmed up quickly on occasion. I had no choice but to horizontalize pooorr Jim, as I was trying to seal a move with Jim standing directly behind my left shoulder cackling… I didn’t want to hit the man, but the position on the board was blockaded… so I decided to open up Jim’s position.”
“Yes, my punches with Jim have always been clean ones. I lead with my right, and I land one haymaker. He crrrumples up, and it just so happens that Bob Lundin or someone of similar size is standing nearby to separate us. It’s always planned that way: I land one punch, and Jim doesn’t get to punch me back. God knows how these things would turn out if he were able to hit back.”
Now there’s some chess humor! Even though I don’t know any of the people involved (I’ve played Pupols once, that’s it), it still makes me grin, especially the part about “opening up Jim’s position.” One might say that this story does have a punch line.
Okay, now it’s your turn!
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