Bobby Fischer

Bobby Fischer died earlier this week. His genius in the realm of chess is not in much dispute, but his actions outside of the ranks and files have won him many enemies. I'm interested to see what people will write about him now that he's passed.

The Atlantic ran a long profile of Fischer in 2002, which covers many of the bases.

Why he stopped playing tournaments, and how his life unraveled so pathetically, is a story one can learn only by seeking out those who actually know Fischer. There are surprisingly few such people—and fewer yet are willing to talk. Fischer doesn't tolerate friends who give interviews. His address book is a graveyard of crossed-out names of people who have been quoted in articles about him. But some formerly loyal Fischer associates, appalled at his recent behavior, are finally talking about him. They reveal that Fischer's story doesn't follow the usual celebrity-gone-to-seed arc. He has not been brought low by drugs or alcohol, by sex scandals or profligate spending. Instead he is a victim of his own mind—and of the inordinate attention that the world has given it.

In the days after his death, The New York Times had not just one ...

Bobby Fischer — the rebel, the enfant terrible, the uncompromising savage of the chess board — had captured the imagination of the world. Because of him, for the first time in the United States, the game, with all its arcana and intimations of nerdiness, was cool.

... but two pieces about Fischer.

A child’s gifts in such realms can seem otherworldly, the achievements effortlessly magical. But as Bobby Fischer’s death on Thursday might remind us, even abstract gifts can exact a terrible price.

Slate chimes in ...

His triumphs and the prize money he demanded helped transform what had been considered an obsession of "shadowy, unhappy, unreal-looking men" (as H.G. Wells put it) into an alluring form of mental recreation in the 1970s.

... as does TIME, with a photoessay.

Post of the Uncanny

Again With the Comics has scans from the Alan-Moore-penned 1963 Book Three: Tales of the Uncanny, an homage to both Marvel Comics' Tales of Suspense and Edwin A. Abbott's Flatland. [via BB]


MEANWHILE...
Todd Klein does in-depth comic book logo studies, tracing the evolutions of superheroes' insignias, like that of Batman.

BACK AT THE VILLAIN'S LAIR...
xkcd, the "webcomic of romance, sarcasm, math, and language" — known around my office for its nerdy take on sandwich-making — is the source of another oldie-but-goodie, people playing chess on roller coasters. Pick your favorite wooden monster from the Roller Coaster DataBase [sic] and recreate the comic for yourself!

WILL OUR HERO SURVIVE...
Further evidence that there is a home on the Internet for everything: Nad Shot, a blog that catalogs instances of groin-targeted attacks in comics, such as this reminder that Wolverine's healing factor applies to all of Wolverine.

ACROSS TOWN...
See Mike Draw has some funny, but disturbing, comics.


FINALLY...
Put on your Fantastic Forefathers t-shirt and check out Robot Chicken's spoof of 300, 1776.

The Days and Knights of Tom Murphy

Washington Post Magazine tells the story of a chess player in D.C.'s Dupont Circle, which is basically a movie waiting to happen:

Murphy is himself one of the least encumbered people you are likely to meet. He has no telephone, no bank account, and, at the time I caught up with him, he was spending most nights on a bench in the park and passing his days at his chosen employment: offering lessons at $15 to $20 per and hustling speed chess for $2 to $5 a game. Yet as a player, Murphy's fame extends far beyond the park. In past years, he'd racked up major tournament wins, routing some of the best chess players in the country and cementing a widespread reputation as a player who might have risen to international prominence had his life taken a different turn.

Update: Another choice quote:

The proudest teaching I ever had was I taught a pimp in New York. His name was Comfort, as in 'comfortable.' I was going down the street to my friend's house. I had my board with me. He said, 'You know anything about that game?' I said, 'Yeah.' He said, 'You have time to show me?' I said, 'Yeah.' He said, 'Step into my office,' which was a pink, long Cadillac. I got in. It had a bar in the car and everything. I started thinking, 'Now how in the world am I gonna show this pimp how to play the game of chess?' So he asked me, 'What do the queen do?' I said, 'The queen do all the work.' He said, 'Ohhhh, now what do the king do?' I said, 'The king don't do nothing.' His eyes lit up when he heard that. He said, 'Man, I like this game already.'

Deep Blue for President

We may need the computerized chess master in the Oval Data Center if Garry Kasparov succeeds in his bid to become the next President of Russia, a feat that may not be so easy to accomplish ...

As the summer wore on, however, it became clear even to Kasparov that the Other Russia could only put forward a “parallel” candidate, a symbolic one. At first, Kasparov was reluctant to be that candidate, but when he proceeded to win many of the Other Russia’s regional primaries in August and September he began to change his mind. “It seems I have no choice,” he said.