RANDOM POST 2

I stood there, wobbling, with scepter in hand and crown on head. Wondering, breathing, crying, what was I supposed to do? I could see them. The white king and queen, staring at me, analyzing me. Their soldiers began advancing towards me, breaking rank. How could I break rank though? Knowing that sending my soldiers forward would mean certain death for them. How could I sacrifice them, as if their lives meant nothing. I wanted all of them to live, but as I stood there, looking at them with my queen to the right and my trusted advisor to the left, I gave the order. And so they marched. Their white soldier diagonal to my black soldier. Without hesitation, the white soldier drew his sword and the once brave soldier I sent to the front on my behalf, layed on the ground, killed by his counterpart. Water droplets hugged my cheeks as they fell to the ground, hugging me, attempting to relieve me from this pain, from this guilt. I felt numb. Death. Everywhere. Young men, slaughtered as if their life had no meaning, while I stood here, inside the fortress built for me by the knights and rooks. 

The first time I played chess, I was about ten years old. I was fascinated, amazed, and scared by this ancient tactical game. The game normally begins with pawns advancing forward and almost immediately “dying.” Once the center field opens up, the bishops, knights, rooks, and queen play a critical role in setting up traps, forks, and overall, cornering the king, forcing him into either a checkmate, stalemate, or into forcing the opponent to surrender. Although it was just a game and the players were merely pieces of wood on a wooden checkerboard, I couldn't help but feel loss, pain, sorrow, and guilt. In my mind, that pawn represented a person, a living being with a family, with kids, with life, dreams and aspirations, and I couldn't understand why he had to die for the game to continue. I didn't understand why “tactical sacrifices,” such as sacrificing the most valuable piece (the queen) to gain an upper hand, had to take place. Why would I sacrifice my spouse? Or the great joy you get when you fork your opponent (meaning you force them to choose between two pieces and they can only save one). You feel a euphoric rush when you fork them, knowing they fell into your trap. However, when I placed it into the context of reality, I couldn't fathom a world where bringing someone to their knees and forcing them to choose between two of their loved ones would ever be a source of happiness. 

The more I played I realized why chess is called the “Game of Kings.” Yes, the purpose of the game is to protect the King, but also because these types of decisions were made by Kings and their generals in the olden days. Chess is a war game, it's a strategy game, it's a game that teaches you the realities of life and war. For many, it's just a cool game to play with friends, but to me, it became much more. It became a game to see how I could win with as few casualties as possible. It became a game of mind where I HAD to know what my opponent was thinking. I HAD to anticipate their next move. I HAD to see their traps beforehand. Simply put, I HAD to think 5 moves ahead. I had to do this to save my pawns, the most vulnerable of pieces. The next time you play chess, I challenge you to try it, put on your crown and hold the scepter, look to the left and see your bishop, your most trusted advisor, and look to your right and see your queen, your beloved spouse, and take a breath, remain calm, think beyond your imagination to anticipate your opponent's moves, and protect your pawns.