Welcome once again to the vault of my memory. I am opening another chest and moving some of its contents to my blog. This is the story of how I met my best friend in middle school for the first time. I call this story, "Mate."
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I found a dozen boys gathered in a classroom, an unusual event for recess, when most would be out playing tag or another improvised sport. The chess club membership was exclusively male. There was only one chessboard available. All boys deferred to one player who was regarded as an authority on the game. To apprehend the name of this premier player, I approached Mark, an acquaintance who cheated off me on tests in exchange for occasional favors, like the loan of a pen or paper. Mark informed me that the premier player was named Brian, and that he defeated all the boys that he played.
I had studied the games of the old masters: Reti, Alekhine, and Lasker. I knew the openings and was accustomed to crushing both kids and grown-ups with impunity. The idea of a boy my age even thinking that he could beat me was outrageous. I declared, "I don't care if he beats every damn kid in this school, I know he can't beat me!" Mark replied, "Oh yeah? Come on and try him, then."
I viewed Brian as an upstart. Nevertheless, as I watched him play, I could not help being impressed. Brian was a cut above every other boy in the room, utterly unlike them, poised, more controlled and mature, the natural leader of them all, with the possible exception, I allowed, of myself. He had straight black hair parted neatly to the side, wore glasses that gave him an intellectual appearance, was two inches shorter than me, but of better build, and had his shirt tucked in, unlike all the other boys, including myself. While considering his next move, he whistled a tune I had never heard before, and each note sounded true. I did like him right from the start. Soon my purpose changed, and I wondered not just whether I would beat him, but whether he would like me.
He crushed his opponent in a lightning blitz combining the queen and both knights that I watched with admiration. I seized my opportunity to challenge him to a game. Since we had never met before, he stood up and shook my hand like a proper gentleman, impressing me further, and told me his name, which I already knew. I was overcome by shyness and in awe of him. I said little, but when prompted by him, did say my name. He asked, politely, if I even knew how to play! He even offered to teach me! Such a gentleman he was! I smiled, for he had underestimated me and would therefore be careless, but on further thought, I disdained winning through his carelessness. I wanted to encounter his full strength and crush him. No other kind of victory would have meaning to me. Therefore, I revealed that I had played since the age of four. He shrugged his shoulders and explained that many boys were ignorant of chess. He was right, of course. That is a deplorable state of affairs for this country.
Brian brought out his queen early, an unsound tactic seldom encountered from the more seasoned, adult players that usually played me. Unwilling, due to my pride, to let him seize the initiative and to set the tone of the game, I paid little attention to his moves, which I judged rash. My excessive confidence was exposed when he actually captured material. With the instinct of a seasoned general, he pressed the offensive relentlessly until, to my astonishment, he won!
Brian was magnanimous, confessing that I had given him more of a battle than any of the others, a compliment I accepted reluctantly, because I had fully expected to win. Was I really defeated? Was I standing up to let the next boy play the winner? I felt even more in awe of him than I had before. Was I upset or angry at losing a chess game? No, I was happy to find at last my equal, someone worthy that I could learn from and admire.
The other boy who replaced me played a game not worth watching. I became bored and tempted by the thought of leaving. Though my feet wished to walk away, my mind forbade any movement. I could not leave until I had talked with Brian alone. The thought filled me with dismay, because I was a shy boy, most reluctant to approach strangers. No one on Earth impressed me like he did. I had to know if he would be my friend.
Everyone wanted to play him, and so I had to wait until the lunch period ended. The bell finally rang, a million years late as far as I was concerned. I approached him, but could not get through the crowd. Somehow, he noticed me over the noise and commotion of others, seized me by the elbow, took me aside and listened. He seemed friendly. The noise was so great that I had to cup my hand over his ear and speak, an unanticipated intimacy that made me blush. I did not bother with any preliminary small talk. “Would you like to come over to my house sometime to play chess?”
My breathing paused. To my delight, he said, "Sure," like it was the most natural thing in the world. He took charge of all the rest, removing every remaining obstacle by volunteering his phone number and then asking for mine.
The rest of the day, I was elated. My loss in chess had transformed into a great victory. Brian was my friend! We would play chess at my house. Maybe we would become best friends! My only desire was for the end of the school day to arrive and for me to get home, so that I could call him up. Watching the clock ticking ever so gradually toward 2:20 P.M. was torture. There were butterflies in my stomach when the last bell finally rang. When I came home, I told Mother that I had made a new friend who was smart. That is the word I used to describe him, because I knew she would approve of that. Mother sensed my happiness and shared in it, as she always did. When l asked if he could come over, she immediately said yes. Brian told me when I called him that he had liked me from the start. I could not have been happier.
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