Post
by Paul McKeown » Mon Nov 01, 2010 8:17 am
Hmmm,
Here's a Halloween story for adjournment fans...
About twelve years ago, having returned to Blighty from years abroad in Germany, wo es gar kein hängepartie mehr gibt, and Holland, waar het al lang erg ungewoonlijk is geworden, partijen af te breken, yours truly had started to play chess for Staines in the Thames Valley League and the Border League.
Early in the season our German player, Ralf, had adjourned a whole rook up in the Thames Valley, with the attack as compensation for his material advantage, to boot, against a particular player from another club. His opponent said that he would, "look at it". Nothing was heard. No sign, no signal, for months. Telephone calls, fixed line and mobile, failed to contact the invisible man. Text messages, too. Electronic mail vanished into the ether. A letter failed to produce a response. Quite mysterious.
Then, it was time for the away return match. As if by magic, the invisible man hove into sight... "but I resigned that game ages ago, didn't you get my message?" Incredulous looks all round. Then shrugs.
It turned out, after team lists were exchanged, that I was to do battle with this particular fellow. He played a gambit, which I accepted; it soon became apparent that he didn't know it well enough, I comfortably held the pawn, safely gained another, rearranged my excellently centralised pieces to attack his backward d6 pawn three times. Session ends. By the rules of the TVL, I said that I would like to have the game adjudicated, my opponent unsurprisingly preferred to carry on. Contact details exchanged, the other fellow didn't have his diary with him, "I'll give you a call, tomorrow".
Tomorrow. No call. Then the next day.
After a week or so, I sent an email, tried to contact the fellow by telephone. No success. Months later, three days before the season officially is to end, I manage to get hold of the fellow's work number.
"Yes, sorry, been busy, no trouble. Errr, no can't make that day, no, that one neither. Tell you what, why don't you come round to my house in ---- --------- on Saturday?"
"Oh, okay, then."
Saturday, rail journey of an hour and forty five minutes, woman answers door.
"He doesn't live here, we're getting a divorce..."
Door slammed in face.