Bobby’s chess mastery.

He sat waiting for some kind of sign, anything that might give some semblance of order, of explanation, he hated the uncertainty and the waiting. Would they come tonight or was it some form of psychological warfare. He understood the stakes were high, but just how high and just how far would they go in order to settle the score.

Bucking the odds and upsetting the balance had always appealed to him, but maybe this time he had gone too far and reached a point that would be difficult, if not impossible, to come back from.

The unexpected was his genre and he was proud of the way that he had perfected the art of balancing in the margins and almost always coming back from off the wall.

The opposition saw themselves as his nemesis, little realising the ultimate coup was unfolding, the sting so deeply hidden after changing three times already during the campaign and even now poised to alter position once more before ensnaring the bulk of the forces ranged against him.

It was at times like this that he caught himself thinking and speculating on the origins of the fixation or obsession which gripped him in similar fashion to the way in which he would ultimately catch his opponent and paralyse him.

The chase is better than the catch they say, but he disagreed. The final moment is best. When the wriggling stops and they realise there is no possible escape, all hope of a final miscalculation is in vain, the psyche crumbles and they have to admit he is superior.

He often replayed the ebb and flow of a particular struggle, the subtle manoeuvring and patient building up of the forces. He even enjoyed the miscalculations which always seemed to keep the struggle human and prevent it resembling a mock battle between robots.

The human element was always the deciding factor and caused unexpected repercussions. Fatigue, hunger, momentary lapse of concentration or the most devastating calamity that can befall the competitor, that of the dreaded blind spot.

Like the car that lurks just out of vision when one changes lanes, so the unseen factor which has not been accounted for returns to haunt its victim with multiple force.

Still the waiting, that was the worst, the constant gnawing fear that something had been missed. Something that they might have seen and even now were poised to strike at. That vulnerable chink that he might have left uncovered.

Keeping control of the imagination was something that he always accepted as part of the overall challenge. He found it stimulating in the closing off of the pressure valve allowing a build up of steam knowing full well that one rash move would end his precarious balancing act.

Time could kill. Causing doubt in one’s judgement and that had to be prevented at all costs. All avenues had to be carefully tested, feeling for the weakness, the brittle strain that would signal a weak point setting off alarm bells like a trip wire in the recesses of his mind.
The first hint that all was fine could be the most deceptive moment of ones life. That was where control was absolutely essential, to hold back and resume another painstaking check. All the while convincing ones mind that this was the first time and that nothing could be taken for granted. Tension which never abated, tension so strong one could taste the acrid and sometimes bitter, choking intensity.

This was all so familiar that the only surprise would be the day that he was relaxed all the way through. After that happened he knew that he would never venture in deep again.

Still nothing. Mindreading was a game for amateurs and he prided himself on his ability to resist clutching at straws.

A hint, a slight betrayal of emotion, but it could all be imagined. It had all happened before. Best to hold back until all the data was in and there was something concrete to move with.

More waiting. The mind always focuses more intently and more intensely during periods of heavy stress and pressure. Crystal clear clarity, maybe that was what he was hooked on and had to do it again and again in order to experience and re-experience that acute high.

Perception was always tricky and could easily be false. Based on previous experience, there may be a mental block. No prejudice or preconceived ideas could be tolerated because therein lies the seed which germinates than thrives and blossoms into the dreaded blind spot.

Focusing on the detail and paying attention to what was going on before his eyes was more difficult than people thought. Some people see but do not observe and there can be no excuse for that.

He was always ready to accept uncertainty because he felt it a critical part of life.

It might even be that the key to existence resided in that, dreaded by so many, imbalance of force.

At the outset it was apparent that perseverance above all was necessary and that too much credence lent to chance could make him fatalistic. Take it all as it comes and accept the roll of the dice by the Gods. His chance would come because all things being equal he was the best.

Much time had been spent as the hunted trying to second guess his opponents but now the roles were reversed and he had the initiative. And just as in life, if you have the initiative you stand better, but more importantly if you hold it for long enough somewhere down the line you are going to benefit.

This struggle was no different and he knew if he misjudged the balance he could lose. Therein lay the tension and pressure which must be negotiated before he could finish.

As the hand snaked out and grabbed the knight he knew instinctively that it would be alright. The tension that had wracked his body now dissipated.

But he knew that he would be back again and again to relive that feeling where his mind was as taut as a bowstring but more importantly had been kept there for hours on end.