There seems to be an unwritten rule followed by most newspapers, magazines, television and movies.  Whenever a chessboard and pieces are shown, they must be set up incorrectly.  Things have improved somewhat since the advent of Bobby Fischer.  Often the photographer or cameraman smugly places the horsie between that pointy thingy and the castle, behind that row of whatchamacallits.  However, the square at the lower right hand of the board is almost always a black one.  It should be a white one.

            Of little consequence, a casual observer might say.  After all, in those cases the set is only there to indicate that the fictional heroine (or villain) is a bright and quick-thinking individual.  Or to prove that those who use a particular hair spray (substitute: snack food, vehicle, or article of clothing) can make brilliant choices.

What matters if the board is turned 90°?  The King is on the opposite side of his Queen from where he should be, true.  However, each side still has a King, a Queen, two Bishops, two Knights, two Rooks and eight pawns.  Each individual unit is on the wrong colored square – but the game can still be played.

            In the end it comes down to this, that chess should be played properly, according to its rules.  (Otherwise, why not give the Queen some moves as a Knight, or diagonalize a Rook?)  Ignorance is neither becoming nor an acceptable excuse.  Gifted players are always available to advise and instruct should the artiste be in any way interested in getting it right.  If you can’t play the game seriously, you shouldn’t be playing it at all.

            It was in this role that I found myself – not advisor to Madison Avenue mavens or instructor to Hollywood hucksters, but providing sober after-game analysis and guidance to Club members in the thralls of the Spring Open.  I had just finished working with a young lady on a Rook-pawn-plus-Bishop-of-the-wrong-color endgame, and was clearing the board when the chair across the table from me screeched rudely.  It was slowly filled by patched jeans and then a ratty sweater, topped by a mangy beard that grinned below smeared wire rims.  Perry the hopeless PawnPusher, of course.

            I had caught sight of the sad sack’s game on my last stroll through the playing area.  Armed with some opening analysis (a bag of tricks, mostly) that I had once provided him (a sad tale in itself) Perry had won a piece in the first few moves.  Following GM Reuben Fine’s wisdom, he had then swapped just about everything off, winning a pawn in the process. I set up the last position I remembered:

            “Of course, Black’s King is in check, so he moved away with 1…Kf7. I figured a few more checks and then I could Queen my pawn and then Hasta la vista, baby!”

            I winced, but held my tongue.

            “So I came with 2.Nd8+ Kf8 3.Ne6+ Kf7.  Thought he was pretty tricky, moving his King back and forth like that.”

            I covered a yawn with my hand.

            “Maybe the problem is that the Knight needs a run at it, I thought, and tried a new strategy: 4.Ng5+ Kf8 5.Ne4 Kf7 6.Nd6+ Kf8 7.Nc4 Kf7 8.Ne5+ Kf8 9.Nd7+ Kf7.”  Perry furrowed a brow.  “It was like he was trying to hypnotize me or something with all that King shuffling.”

            My eyes began to droop, and I reached for my coffee.

            “Then I figured a sacrifice might help!  Look at this” he said excitedly.  “10.Nf6 Exclam!  But he dodges with 10...Kf8, so I offer the Knight again, 11.Ne8.  Double exclam!!”

            “But he declined with 11…Kf7” I offered.

            “Well, right,” he acknowledged, slowing down for a beat.  “That was because I hadn’t found the right plan yet.  But then I saw it.  A Knight’s Tour’!”

            Perry began to prance the Knight around, while his opponent, of course, continued to shuffle his King back and forth.  The Black King continued to “stalemate” his counterpart, and as long as the White King was stuck in front of his pawn, there was no win for the first player.

            “12.Nc7 Kf7 13.Na8 Kf7 14.Nb6 Kf8 15.Na4 Kf7 16.Nb1 Kf8 17.Nd2 Kf7 18.Nf1 Kf8 19.Nh2 Kf7” Perry droned as he relentlessly played out the moves. “20.Ng4 Kf8 21.Nh7 Ke7” 

            “What??” I asked, suddenly paying attention.

            “Told ya,” Perry said smugly. “22.Kg8 Ke6 23.h8 promoting to a Queen – and good ole ‘Mr. President’ had to strike his colors.  I dare say Akiba Rubinstein, himself, couldn’t have escaped from me.”  He looked insufferable.

            It took me a minute.

            “He resigned and signed the score sheet” I nodded.

            Perry beamed and nodded back in confirmation.  I figured he was already planning a self-laudatory monograph on Perry’s Passed Pawns or Enervating Endgames.

            “Then it was a win, I guess,” I said sagely.  And then I smiled broadly, barely containing a grin.

            The PawnPusher looked puzzled.  His smile slipped.  Something was wrong.

            I allowed myself a chuckle.  Then a laugh.  Then a guffaw.

            Perry was still furiously dissecting his game and shuffling pieces as I went off to share the joke with his young opponent.