27 December 2005 22:55 -05:00 GMT

(I describe how I analyzed a game immediately below. If that bores you to tears, then it might get more interesting for you after the bolded text, dear Reader.)

I used Chessbase 9 to filter out games by Kasparov where he had the Black pieces and played c5 in response to e4. I know this as the Sicilian defense, with a complicated number of variations.  The Encyclopedia of Chess Openings (ECO) codes these openings as B20 to B99, and that was part of the filter that I used in the search of the Megabase 2004 that Chessbase provides. I selected a game between Kasparov and Leko, both top five players at the time. Then I turned on two kibitzer chess engines so that they could analyze each move simultaneously as I did. I made notes, about some key moves in the game, and also explored some of the options that the computers pointed out. It's a learning process, and it makes me eager to play a game and practice a bit of what I've learned. A bit like medicine in that regard. Chomping at the bit, I am.

This is what my computer screen looked like at one point during the analysis. It is great, great fun. (My comments in the larger image are in blue text.)

You know, Chess gets me attention, usually in the form of friendly ribbing, but I don't understand that. Chess is so fun! It's like sports for the mind. It can make you sweat even though you're sitting still. It's a form of meditation. It's a battle of wills, calculation, and heart. Each game is a different incarnation; no two games are exactly the same. And, like sports, it offers up euphoria on victory, and despair on defeat.

Blitz games dampen the emotions, but still offer up fast food for chess addicts. It's not great, but you still get full. And it tastes great. My best friend in Birmingham introduced me to Blitz chess. It's speed chess, played with a clock, where time becomes one of the resources you have to manage in addition to the material pieces of the game.

Clay Leonard. We did the MBA program at UAB together. He is a remarkable teacher, and a very good chess player, in addition to being husband and father to one, with another on the way. I remember being involved in a discussion in a classroom, and I compared something about business to chess, and our teacher asked me if chess was applicable in this situation. After a quarter-moment, I said yes. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Clay's head bob in agreement with my answer.

At the end of class, I went up to the front on my way out, and Clay asked me if I ever played Blitz...speed chess, he clarified in response to my puzzled look. I said I hadn't, but that I was game. A friendship was born.

That was not the most remarkable thing I remember about Clay in business school. What I remember most about Clay was that whenever he addressed the class, everyone listened. Some folks talked just to hear themselves talk. Some folks had elementary questions, completely valid, that didn't interest anyone. But when Clay talked, not only was it a relevant question or commentary, it struck to the heart of what people were thinking, but were either afraid to ask, or were unable to articulate because they didn't have the gift that Clay has.

When Clay talked in class, he was as much teaching as he was learning, and I for one was very impressed by that.

In addition to Clay's gift for striking at the heart of matters, he also has an easy way of getting along with folks. He always points out the highlights of a person, and by doing so makes any interaction with him a pleasurable one.

Clay has gone on to be an economics and Spanish teacher at the Alabama School of Fine Arts - a center of excellence recognized nationwide for it's educational achievements. I think Clay's no small part of that.

And I get to play chess with him from time to time.

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Chess is perceived as a bit of a strange pursuit, for reasons that I don't fully understand. It's so much fun to me, that I am not clear on why others don't enjoy it as much as I do.

It was in Zambia during my first stint that I rediscovered my love of chess. Granted, this was kindled in school from 1995 to 1997, but in the extra downtime I had in Lusaka, sans TV, chess became my newest full time pastime.

When I got back, I bought books, a travel board, a clock, and got obsessed. I played in my first tournament ever, showing up in a shirt and tie because I thought that was appropriate. It wasn't, but that is beside the point.

I was in the unrated division, and am proud to say that I won my first competitive game ever, against a 1300+ rated player. I scored 2 and a half in the tournament - not huge accomplishment by any chess standards, but respectable for someone who hadn't played in this arena before. A year later, I came out tied for first in a low division, and after a coin toss, I was awarded money instead of a trophy. I would have preferred the trophy. Two years later, I tied for first in the under 1200, or under 1400 division, (I don't remember which) along with a gaggle of six teenagers. I accepted a small check, for less than my entry fee. It was a victory, nonetheless.

The chess crowd is a strange bunch.

I remember walking into my first chess club meeting at UAB, and not being greeted by anyone for about 20 minutes. They were all too engrossed in playing or observing. So there exists a bit of lack in the social skills arena.

I also note that some folks think it a bit odd that I carry a chess board with me, whether it is to a Christmas party for the school of medicine, or it is traveling to wherever I happen to be going. The chess bag goes wherever I go. You never know when you might get a game. And I've had terrific, fun experiences by keeping that bag close at hand, despite the jests. I might write about one or two of them later.

Love that game.