Luke has never been very competitive, sport just does not interest him. He would much rather take a book and read, than to go out to run a race or kick a ball. Of course I tried to coax and bribe him into taking part year after year, but to no avail. Imagine my surprised when he volunteered in March that he is taking up chess!
Of course I jumped at the idea. The next day I went to mall and came back armed with a chess set, rules and guide book. Only problem is that I could not find chess for dummies. It turns out I’m a chess dummy!
It simply does not make sense to me. Give me number games or sudoku and I am happy. Give me scrambled letters and ask me to make up words and I am happy. Give me chess and I turn into a drooling idiot! I don’t “see” any patterns. It’s as if my brain shuts down.
In an attempt to be supportive I have been spending every second Friday watching him compete in league games and every second Saturday sitting in on his tournaments. These tournaments are presented by a chess guru, coach to the SA Chess team, and very informative. I make notes like a mad thing and listen with a lot of good intention, but sorry Jacques, I still don’t get it. I still play “baby chess” and that’s according to Luke!
This morning we were again attending a tournament and Luke was busy with his first game. I’m sitting at a distance observing my genius at work. His opponent’s mother is hovering over the table watching every move. Next moment this bleach blonde bimbo with her fake boobs and too tight track suit marches over to the coach (obviously not knowing that I was within earshot) and proclaimed that she was withdrawing her son from the tournament.
On being asked why, she said that her son had a 2350 average (whatever that means!) and that it is a waste of his time to play against a beginner, simply because they were playing in age groups as opposed to playing according to ratings!
Well, I don’t know whether the coach saw the look on my face as I marched up to her, or whether he also saw that she was in desperate need of some Prozac, but he skillfully turned her to the door and said:
“Ma’am, if your son had an average of 2350 he could beat me in a game, because that is better than my average. If that is the case you truly are wasting your time. I propose we play a game to settle this.”
Without a word she took her son by the hand and marched her perky little ass out of there and we continued the tournament in peace.
Chill mommy, even your baby was a beginner once. Just because he is now “advanced” does not give you the right to come down on my “beginner” like a ton of bricks. At least we are trying.
So, for any moms (or dads) out there who needs tips on the game, I will be more than willing to share. I have heaps of notes.