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Topic: Chess from the Dutch School
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1.
On the tram, Jacobs got a new idea for his Bottomless Pitt.
He would preferred to get off at the nearest stop and take another
tram back home, to see on the board what his idea was worth.
But that was out of the question. He couldn`t keep thirty
children waiting for nothing.
For the rest of the ride, and during his walk to the school,
Jacobs tried to visualize the effects of his idea.
He couldn`t do it blind, the Bottomless Pitt was too complicated.
Perhaps, at the school, before the games started,
he could find a moment to set up the position.
If some of the players were watching, he would explain
what he was trijng to do;
"It`s not correct yet," he would say, "but this is the idea,
Mate in nineteen. The mate itself is easy, but Black is going
to delay it. He can interpose a pawn, and this one too, and one more,
and more a knight, and this knight too.
Now a rook, and another one, the queen, and even the bishop;
nine sacrifices, all on the same square. And now, finally,
White can mate, you see? Beautifull, isn`t it?
And in the tram, on my way overhere..."
No, he would rather say; "On my walk overhere..."
On the tram, he could have been looking at a pocket chess set.
What he really had to get across was that such an idea
could grab hold of you just as well when there was no
chessboard around.
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2.
He hadn`t been here for thirty years, but those years were erased
when he stood in the dark granite entrance hall and breathed it`s odor.
Wilhelmus Lyceum.
He almost could feel his book bag under his arm.
The hall was like a echoing swimming-pool.
Students were running in all directions, some with their faces
painted as cats or mice, bumping into each other and into him
without looking where they were going.
No one seemed to have been assigned to meet him.
On a pillar, he noticed a hand painted poster, announcing;
----!! CELEBRATION!!---
WILHELMUS ANNIVERSARY
October, 28th. 15.00 hours
----in the Cafetaria----
CHESS MATCH AGAINST
GRANDMASTER DANIEL JACOBS
----Register below----
!! PLAY CHESS !! PLAY CHESS!!
Eleven names were listed.
Jacobs stood waiting by the pillar.
Nothing happened!
The clock in the entrance hall showed four minutes to three,
one minute to three. It should have started at three.
If nobody showed up by then, he would go home.
No excuses.
A boy, who was also a cat or a mouse, came running towards him.
"Are you Grandmaster Jacobs?" he asked.
"Yes"
"Jos is finishing the Ping-Pong room. He`ll be right there."
Jos, that had to be Jos Wever, the former class-mate,
who had invited him.
Wever had been a phenomenon, a chubby school clown
with coke-bottle glasses, whose speech was so affected,
that he was once expelled from class, just for that.
At the same time, he was one of the best table-tennis players
in the Netherlands. Back then, he was already playing
on the Dutch National team, and for years to come Jacobs had
continued to find his results in the newspapers.
Wever was, -not counting Klooster, of course-, the best-known
sports figure Wilhelmus had ever produced.
It seemed strange that someone like that would ever
had busied himself with anything else but table-tennis.
But now, he was a classics teacher and the assistent
principal of their old school.
There had been no room in the school`s budget for an
honararium. Playing simuls for free was against Jacobs`s
principals as a professional, but he had agreed to come.
You had to know when to set your principals aside.
It was at Wilhelmus that he had become a chessplayer.
It was only fair for him to pass some of his love,
and some of his knowledge of the game to a new generation.
In the light of this, eleven participants was dissapointing.
"Isn`t it great about Klooster?" said the painted boy.
Jacobs nodded.
"Is he going to be World Champion?"
"Who knows."
"No, but seriously, what do you think?"
"Speculating is not very.........." ;Jacobs started saying,
but suddenly he felt irritated by the righteouness
of the answer he invariably gave anybody and everybody
who wanted to talk chess with him during the last few weeks.
He nodded.
"Yes, he`ll beat Neushtadt. Klooster is going to be World Champion."
"You`re kidding! Jesus! World Champion! That last game?
The Brisbane Bombshell!"
"Will you be playing in the simul?" ; Jacobs asked.
"Jesus! No way!" said the boy, laughing in mock panic.
"Chess is too hard for me."
Suddenly a little man with a red beard stood in front of Jacobs,
and kissed him on both cheeks.
"Daantje!...Daantje Jacobs...Jesus, man,....
have you gotten ugly!"[/]
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3.
Music was booming in the cafetaria.
There was no indication of any chess simul, not a single board
upon which he might have set up the Bottemless Pitt.
He had expected to see a neat retangle of tables,
with boards and pieces already set up, participants
and spectators, looking forward to his arrival.
During his own school years, Wilhelmus already had
a more liberal reputation than other schools,
but what Jacobs was seeing now shocked him.
A girl, no older then fourteen, was stamping out her cigarette
on the floor, which was littered with plastic cups,
pieces and wads of paper, cigarette butts ;a fallen streamer
was floating in a puddle of coke.
The most remarkable thing about a couple of bulging trashcans was
that something had occasionally been thrown into them.
What a way to host someone, they thought was a Grandmaster.
He really should turn around and get out.
This was hallowed ground,__Klooster had played chess here;
over there, by the window, overlooking the courtyard.
Jacobs had won his unforgettable game against him.
Now, in the same spot, stood a table, covered with little jars
of make-up. A girl was painting another girl`s face.
A sign read:
BE A WILHELMOUSE TOO - 1 Euro
So they were mice.
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4.
But where were the chess players?
Suddenly the music stopped, and in the midst of the resulting
howls of protest, Wever came and stood next to Jacobs,
and shouted;"Kids, Kids, please be quiet for a moment!
Grandmaster Daniel Jacobs has arrived,
the chess match is about to start. Who will help arange the tables?
Will someone please go and get the board and pieces?"
From the audience came whistles, and shouts of;
"WE WANT DISCO! WE WANT DISCO!"
No one came forward, and Wever didn`t look as if he had
expected it either.
"The chess club here died years ago"he said to Jacobs,
with an apologetic laugh, "I hadn`t told you?"
Wever started moving tables himself. Only one fragile-looking boy,
his serious expression untouched by the mouse-paint,helped him set up
the retangle. Jacobs almost lent a helping hand himself.
But there was a limit.
When Weever walked out of the cafetaria, the mousy little fellow
followed him. A moment later they returned with the boards
and pieces, and proceded to set them up.
And now Jacobs could really smell the old school.
There were the very boards and pieces they had used in his days.
Among them was perhaps the same black queen, that Klooster
had blundered in their historic game.
Twelve-year-old against eighteen-year-old, don`t miss it!
And Japie Klooster had not been your average twelve-year-old either,
Jacobs was already letting him play on the school team,
second board, right behind himself. That little boy
actually had a change to win the school Championship.
Their game would be the deciding one.
In those days, chess really meant something at Wilhelmus.
At home, Jacobs had made signs, one saying KLOOSTER,I C, and the other
JACOBS, 6 B, which he had placed on the game table.
At least twenty spectators had shown up, and a couple of teachers too.
Jacobs hadn`t needed more then a draw, but it was out of the question,
that he,a three-time school champion; someone who already
played for his club in the national team championship,
would play for a draw against a twelve year old,
no matter how unquestionable his talent.
He could still see the Japie Klooster of that game.
A little boy you could almost blow over, uncapping and
recapping his fountain pen at every move, and giving off
a slightly musty smell, from his father`s pet shop.
He and Klooster had probably been the only ones who realized
that "playing for a draw" was always out of the question.
Even with Black, the little fellow had put him under pressure,
right from the opening, and with matter-of-fact, powerful
play, obtained a winning position.
Then he had hung his queen!
Jacobs had barely been able to suppress a sigh of relief,
and had immediatly aligned himself with the prevailing view
among the spectators; that little guy had put up a good fight,
but that in the end something like this was bound to happen.
Klooster had resigned immediatly and walked away,
his eyes misty.
Jacobs was school champion for the fourth consecutive year.
He had written a story for the school newspaper
with the headline; JAAP KLOOSTER: FUTURE MASTER?
and proposed a blitz match. Klooster had declined,
his homework took precedence.
It remained the only game Jacobs had won against Klooster,
but he head also never lost against him.
During Klooster`s early years, they had played a few more games
against each other, all draws. After that, Klooster had left him
far behind, too far to be able to take revenge.
There was something mytical about it, the son who had become
strong enough to defeat the father is then forever seperated
from his father.
The score Jacobs - Klooster would be 1-0 forever.
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5.
In the end, twelve students and three teachers were seated
behind the twenty-four chessboards. Pretending to have succeeded
in obtaining silence, Wever spoke a word of welcome.
"No anniversary of the school that has produced Jaap Klooster,"
he said,"should be without a chess simul. Therefore I have invited
the well-known chess colomnist of the Amsterdam Tribune,
the greatest chess player ever among my class-mates,
Grandmaster Daniel Jacobs!"
The chess players clapped.
Jacobs quickly explained the simul rules and began.
Wever himself played too.
After only a few moves it became clear that Wilhelmus
was no longer any good. The spirit of Klooster, or his own
for that matter, no longer lived here. Even without music,
the racket he had to play in, was unbearable.
A simul against weak opponents was strickly a matter of experience,
but the lack of respect reveiled by the noise upset Jacobs.
He decided to keep in his pocket the copy of his book
"My Chess Board is Alive!", which he had brought along,
to give to the best player.
But he began to feel that it would be especially sad for himself,
if the simul was over in just half an hour, and without going so far as
to play badly on purpose, he tried to avoid situations
in which his opponents could blunder too easily.
Perhaps he was giving that too much attention, he made
a blunder himself, by hanging a piece against one of the teachers.
It was a "Finger Fehler"(*), a transportation
of moves, the type of blunder you made precisely because
you were the stronger player. But gone was gone.
The teacher was not to be fooled, and after winning all
the other games, Jacobs resigned.
Wever, who amid general hilarity, by getting himself as the first
mated, after only five minutes, had there-upon abruptly
disappeared; was suddenly back again.
With an audiewnce of only Jacobs, the winning teacher,
and the mousy little fellow who had helped with the boards,
he called Jacobs`s score of 14-1 phenomenal,
and handed him a bottle of whiskey.
"Now you have to play Ping-Pong with me." he said.
*fehler = mistake; (automatic)mistake out of the fingertips.
opposite of
"Finger Spitzen Gefuhl = automatic (fingertips) instinct feeling.
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6.
Jacobs found himself in the gym, standing behind
a Ping-Pong table with a paddle in his hand.
On benches, all around, about four hundred students
were waiting in relatively orderly fashion.
"This is my ex-classmate, chess Grandmaster Jacobs"
Wever shouted; "He has just won all the games in the chess simul"
This was greeted by loud cheers and whistles.
Involuntarily, Jacobs looked to see if the teacher
who had won, was there also.
"So we have to teach him a lesson! Shall I do that?"
"YEAH!" yelled the crowd.
"Five games to eleven!" shouted Wever.
In the old days,I had watched him play for five guilders,
with a 19-0 handicap. He had practically always won.
And that was somebody whose 21-3 losses against Chinese,
you could find in the newspapers.
Weber took a Ping-Pong paddle the size of a checkers man
from his pocket, and served.
Automatically Jabobs returned a few balls.
A moment later he had lost by 11-1.
The fact that he was playing with such a tiny paddle,
didn`t seem to make any difference at all.
In the following games, Wever used a baseball bat,
a badminton racket, and a gong. He won everything!
In the game with the gong,Jacobs had trouble keeping
a straight face, but Wever played with grim determination,
and it was amazing what he was still capable of.
"AND NOW" yelled Wever; "CHESS!"
He held up a chessboard.
The audience roared.
"No! no!", Jacobs laughed.
This really hurt his dignity.
Would Klooster put up with something like that?
At least two kids were taking pictures!
Imagine such a photograph ended up in a chess magazine.
Wever laughed and served, holding the chessboard by a corner.
"He is letting me win", Jacobs thought, when he found himself
ahead by 10-8. A moment later he had lost by 12-10.
"MATE" shouted Wever.
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