(no subject)
Teachers become great figures of our lives, especially those who change the way you look at the world. Through chess, my father changed my life. In high school, the chess club opened my eyes to an entire subculture colored by sixty-four black and white squares and populated by sixteen dark and sixteen light colored pieces. My first chess set was something I dug out of a garage sale when I was about five. It was cheap particleboard with flimsy plastic pieces of the traditional shape and color. I begged my father to teach me how the pieces moved. With only a basic knowledge of how the pieces moved and no strategy to speak of, challenges were issued to everyone who would play. Each person showed me a new way to maneuver the pieces, to look at the board and to look at life.
For a time, my interest waned. High school sparked my interest again, but it would not be until college when I stumbled on a flyer in the parking garage. It wouldn’t be until weeks later that I would fall onto the Chess Club @ UCF and met Colin and a man who would only respond to the name Bowman. Each of these men further opened my eyes to this world and found secrets hidden within the possibilities of the pieces. The secret powers of the pieces enticed me to study. I hung a paper chessboard over my bed so that I could study the movements I had learned that day.
Each day I was drawn farther into the game and so I was drawn into the people who associated themselves with an ages old symbol. The stereotype of the nerdy chess-geek flew out the window. Even the basic form of the game went out the window when one particularly long study session finished. With clocks set only to measly five minuets I played my first round of blitz chess
For a time, my interest waned. High school sparked my interest again, but it would not be until college when I stumbled on a flyer in the parking garage. It wouldn’t be until weeks later that I would fall onto the Chess Club @ UCF and met Colin and a man who would only respond to the name Bowman. Each of these men further opened my eyes to this world and found secrets hidden within the possibilities of the pieces. The secret powers of the pieces enticed me to study. I hung a paper chessboard over my bed so that I could study the movements I had learned that day.
Each day I was drawn farther into the game and so I was drawn into the people who associated themselves with an ages old symbol. The stereotype of the nerdy chess-geek flew out the window. Even the basic form of the game went out the window when one particularly long study session finished. With clocks set only to measly five minuets I played my first round of blitz chess