We were invited to a party on a sailing ship. The fantastic blue of the Adria, delicious barbecue specialities, cocktails galore, and music helped us to forget the games of the tournament. Hostesses lionised the big star. His body evoked memories of Johnny Weissmüller, the famous swimmer and Tarzan-impersonator. Only the lianas of the jungle were missing on the ship. But Bobby remained faithful to his lifestyle, no alcohol, only litres of cold milk. Every now and then he jumped into the water to cool down. But all the time he hardly ever lost sight of his pocket chess set. Were the years in Yugoslavia from 1968 to 1970 the happiest of his life?
Viktor Lvovich Kortschnoi was certainly no friend of the extravagant American, but Kortschnoi's professional praise of Fischer is remarkable: "The chess players all over the world should be grateful to him because chess has become so popular, the prizes in tournaments increased, and in dozens of countries it is now possible to become a chess professional."
So much from Kortschnoi whose chess skills Fischer rated higher than those of Spassky. Fischer considered Kortschnoi to be the far more dangerous opponent. Since Fischer's interventions prizes and fees have significantly increased. All chess professionals should thank him and at least once a year light a candle in church for Fischer.
I saw him in Amsterdam 1972, just after his grandiose victory against Spassky. In Amsterdam, I played in the IBM tournament. Fischer was also in town, though incognito. He invited me to visit him in the Hilton hotel because he was curious why I had not come to Reykjavik. I answered truthfully: "I am sorry, Robert, I would have come, but I could not. No passport!"
Drawing: Otakar Masek
I told him that the entire CSSR had kept its fingers crossed for him. Firm and tight as they did during the hockey game USSR-CSSR. I explained that every victory over the USSR was a welcome remedy for our hurt souls after the "brotherly" tank attack by the countries of the Warsaw Pact. Unfortunately, Jan Palach, "torch number one", could not join the celebrations of Fischer's victory against Spassky. (Jan Palach was a Czech student who set himself on fire on January 16, 1969, to protest against the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia. Palach died on January 19, 1969, Ed.) I am still not certain whether the new champion Bobby Fischer could understand the Czech perspective.
During this secret meeting, he showed me some games from his match in Reykjavik, and he was quite pleased that I already knew them by heart. We spent the most time with game number 13.
A couple of months later, in San Antonio 1972, Fischer was still in excellent shape and seemed to be entirely normal and healthy to me. In the same year, the swimmer Mark Spitz won seven gold medals at the Olympic Games in Munich. American TV invited both heroes to appear together on an interview show. Afterwards, the whole of America fell into a chess frenzy.
Subsequently, Mark Spitz "pawned" one medal after the other to advertising. Unlike Robert Fischer. He could have negotiated substantial endorsement deals – milk, shaving cream, Las Vegas Hotels, etc., but he did not play along. "Please, pay me for my chess art, my chess ideas, and my chess moves!"
Kurt Rattmann, owner of a chess mail order company in Hamburg, was very happy about the chess boom in the USA. "Just imagine, Mr. Hort, in one year I delivered more than 50,000 chess clocks to the USA!"
Good news! The new champion was a surprise guest and kibitzer in San Antonio. At the reception of the hotel, I found two notes addressed to me. An invitation to a religious event at the congress centre, and an invitation to dinner, both by Fischer.
Worldwide Church of God. The Redeemer himself, Herbert Armstrong, lectured in a hall packed to capacity. Questions from the public immediately received an optimistic answer from the preacher. Armstrong tried to take the simple folk the fear of death. What did my neighbour Fischer, who was seated next to me, hoped to get out of his membership? His eyes were closed, his hands on the Armstrong bible. Does he meditate or did he fall asleep? As an atheist, I did not understand one single word from the discussion. I would have liked it much better when the Armstrong on the stage would have been jazz singer and trumpeter Louis Armstrong. As usual, at the end of the event men came with an offertory. My neighbour honoured the eloquence of the big boss with a fat note, I dropped a quarter into the box. That is what the lecture was worth for me.
In the evening five people — Fischer, his sister Joan, her husband, Gligoric and I — sit in a Mexican restaurant. An unforgettable evening! Fischer was in high spirits.
Drawing: Otakar Masek
Bad News! Mister Fischer left for Pasadena, the hotel told us next morning.
USSR against the Rest of the World — the match of the century in Belgrad 1970.
The participants were looking forward to a rest day. The telephone in my hotel room rang. "Here is Miguel Najdorf, I would like to invite you to a chess evening, young man. Bobby already agreed. We can analyse and play some blitz. Tomorrow is a rest day, isn't it?" I thanked him and assured him that I would be knocking on the door of his suite at 10 pm sharp. The invitation surprised me and made me happy.
Just as in tournament games we had to wait exactly seven minutes for Bobby. But board and pieces were ready. When welcoming me Don Miguel had quickly given me the key to the drinks cabinet. I was happy to give the shooting star of our team my place at the board because I was happy with my role of a kibitz.
Miguel Najdorf, (standing) in a game against Fischer
Najdorf was in charge. Proud about winning against Tal the day before he was waiting for recognition and praise. As an attentive host, he also ordered food from the hotel kitchen. For Fischer two litres of fresh milk, plus two steaks medium rare. On this special evening, I ate a steak tartare on toast and had promised myself to enjoy the scotch on the rocks very carefully.
Bobby knew the game Najdorf-Tal by heart and showed where Tal could have defended much better. He also thought that Najdorf could have played much better. During the analysis, I realised that compared to Bobby I knew nothing about chess and that Don Miguel knew very little.
For a while, our Grand-Maitre was occupied by the 200-gram steaks, and we, the foot soldiers, could start blitzing. My first move was 1.e2-e4. Najdorf defended with his own weapon (the Najdorf Sicilian), and I later lost on time. We only played for the honour. If the game was drawn, the player with Black remained seated, if the game was decided, the winner kept his seat. I remember that Miguel and I were always taking turns and did not have a chance against Fischer. After about three hours I could snatch a piece from the American. In hindsight I believe that he let me win because he had to go to the place where even emperors like to go alone.
Drawing: Otakar Masek
But then the merry-go-round turned as before. Hort lost against Najdorf, who lost against Fischer, then we two took turns: Najdorf, Hort, Najdorf, Hort, Najdorf, Hort, against Fischer. The future world champion was simply faster and better. Since this memorable evening, Fischer called me by first name "Vlasty". At a certain point of time Fischer was yawning, looking on his watch, and I won my second game. But I was the first to leave the "scene of the crime", and I saw that the sun was already sending its first rays to earth.
A few days after the "USSR against The Rest of the World Match", which ended with a narrow 20½-19½ victory for the Soviet union, Fischer and I were sitting in a Yugoslavian aeroplane, flying to Dubrovnik. Bad weather travelled with us. How on earth did the Serbian journalist Dimitri Bjelica manage to lure the famous American into playing, I asked myself during the flight. Fischer sat next to me at the window, desperately clinging to the backrest. He sweated buckets and in his eyes, I saw his fear of flying.
After the chess night with Najdorf and Fischer in the hotel Metropol, I knew who would win the blitz tournament in Herceg Novi. How much time had passed since a little boy in short trousers had played countless blitz games against the leading Russian masters n the central chess club of Moscow? Back then Bobby knew the names of the pieces in Russian.
Shortly before landing my nervous neighbour took out his pocket chess set. With one eye I saw that he was still analysing the fourth game Petrosian-Fischer from Belgrad. Apparently, he did not like that White could get an absolutely equal endgame in the Grünfeld.
The writer and journalist Dimitri Bjelica did a lot for chess at that time. He knocked on every door and when he was sent away the next day he knocked on the window. But when did he give his protégé the address of the top-tailor in Sarajevo who had already made suits of the finest fabric for Alekhine? Chess players know scholar's mate, Bobby got caught in the tailor-trap.
Probably, that's the way the cookie crumbles, I thought. True or not? At any rate, in his tailor-made suits, he cut quite a figure in the tournament hall – a handsome guy.
1) Fischer 19-3
2) Tal 14½-7½
3) Kortschnoi 14-8
4) Petrosian 13½-8½
5) Bronstein 13-9
6) Hort 12-10
7) Matulovic 10½-11½
8) Smyslov 9½-12½
9) Reshevsky 8½-13½
10) Uhlmann 8.0-14.0
11) Ivkov 7½-14½
12) Ostojic 2.0-20.0
I was right. On average, Robert Fischer did not think for more than two minutes in a game. And there's one thing I understood at this tournament: the next time in Sarajevo I would ask to get my fee paid in kind.
Chess Olympiad in Siegen 1970. Although Fischer's results were moderate (he suffered a particularly painful loss against Spassky) I always respected his art. The match USA – CSSR: it was an honour for me to play against him.
As usual, he gave his opponent seven minutes, me too. This way he avoided contact with the press and the photographers. But would he even be allowed to play today, in the times of the zero-tolerance-rule?
Caro-Kann opening. When he was sitting at the board his behaviour was immaculate. A kind of gentleman like Keres. He wrote down the moves legibly and in a nice way. As far as I know, he had never tried to speed up his writing, not even when his opponent was in time-trouble. He would never have duped someone. The saying "slow and steady wins the race" expresses his manners at the board very well.
In our game, I lost a pawn but when Fischer sealed his move at the adjournment I was surprised to notice that I had very solid compensation.
After a quick dinner, my assessment was confirmed during analysis. If both sides found a series of best moves the game would certainly end in a draw. I had more luck than skill.
Late in the evening I ventured into the lion's den and offered the captain of the US team, Ted Edmonton, to draw the game. This would have saved Fischer and me the trouble to go to the tournament hall in the morning and would have given us time for a relaxed breakfast before we would appear in the tournament hall in afternoon for the next round. But the answer was "I am sorry, Vlastimil, Bobby wants to play."
More analysis till deep into the night. But I found no improvement, neither for White nor for Black. All attempts ended in the dead-end of a draw. The next morning I hurried to the tournament hall. My idol again gave me seven minutes. What happened then? My nightly analysis was confirmed. Move by move. "I offer you a draw!" A nice suggestion!
Translation from German: Johannes Fischer
