To the last pawn - Part III

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“After each boxing round, gloves must be removed. A player failing to remove his gloves shall forfeit his right to j’adoube.”
- World Chess Boxing Association (WCBA) rules, article 12.3.d

For almost ten miles, they drove through the desert landscape in silence. Favreau was the first to break the ice.
“I guess I should still thank you for remembering me when you got that call.”
“Uhm, you’re welcome, I guess.”
“But don’t expect me to hold back any punches, because –“
“Sorry I didn’t ask before, but –“ Favreau was interrupted in mid-sentence by a female voice from the back seat.
“What the hell?” exclaimed Dominguez, as he turned his head in the direction of the voice. Unfortunately, his torso and hands followed suit, thus causing the car to veer wildly off its lane to the left, onto the median.
“Look where you’re going!” Favreau yelled as he lunged to grab the wheel and steered the convertible away from the path of an oncoming truck. The car lost traction, spun wildly out of control and jumped off the highway into the desert sands, where it stopped twenty yards later, its nose half-buried in a sand dune.
“– is it alright if I hitch a ride to Vegas with you?” The redheaded teenage girl blinked her eyes behind her coke-bottle glasses as she finally got to finish her question.

Dominguez got out of the car and surveyed the damage. His face, pale after the near-death experience, began to change colors rapidly, as if intent on covering the entire visible spectrum in record time. Finally it settled on ‘blood red’. Walking around the car, he yanked the left rear door open and faced the girl.
“Who are you?” he barked, “What are you doing in my car? And do you have any idea how much is it going to cost to fix this?”
“I’m sorry,” the girl lowered her head, “I’m Lisa. I was hitchhiking my way from Burbank to Vegas and got stuck in this diner. I saw you coming on the interstate and figured you’ll continue after you’re done with your lunch. So I sat in the car to wait for you. I was going to ask you if it’s ok to ride with you once you were out, I really was, but…”
“But what?”
“But I fell asleep.”
“You what!?”
“It’s this heat … I’m so sorry,” she sobbed.
“I don’t believe this,” said Dominguez, “Hours away from the defining moment of my career, I’m denied by Frankenstein’s Prom Date.”
“You mean, hours away from the defining moment of my career.” Vince corrected him.
“Whatever. We have to get the car back on the road. Help me push.”
“Can I help?” asked Lisa.
“No!”

An hour later, two very sweaty, dirty and tired men were standing at the edge of the I-15 next to a dusty and once-red car with a slightly dented hood and one broken headlight.
“Let’s go. We still have some time to spare.” Dominguez said.
“What about her?” Favreau asked.
“Yes, what about me?” Lisa perked up as soon as she noticed someone thinking about her.
“Hmm. Let me think,” Dominguez twiddled his thumbs. “Ok, girl. Consider this your lucky day. I won’t press charges. Bye.”
“But… You can’t just leave me here all alone! I’ll die!”
The two men looked at Lisa, then at the endless stream of cars hammering down the interstate. “You know what,” Favreau finally said, “She’s probably right. Given her abysmal hitchhiking skills, leaving her here is as good as killing her.”
“I don’t believe it. So now we have to haul her with us?”
“Thank you!” Lisa ran up to Enrique and kissed him on both cheeks, then inflicted the same punishment on Favreau. “You guys are the best!” She said, as she jumped into the back seat again.
“One more word, chiquita, and I’ll throw you out of the car at 70 MPH.”
“Sorry. Silent as a grave from now, I swear. Girl scout honor.”

***

“If a player promotes a pawn to a queen and already has a queen on the board, he may use his mouthpiece instead of a second queen. For that purpose, players will be issued mouthpieces to match the color of their pieces.”
- World Chess Boxing Association (WCBA) rules, article 12.3.e

“So, what are you guys going to do in Vegas?” Lisa took about ten minutes to break her oath. Vince and Enrique didn’t respond, so she tried another approach. “You know anyone in Vegas?”
“No one.” Enrique said.
“Except for Todd Santoro.” Vince elaborated.
“You guys know Todd Santoro, the Chess-Boxing promoter? Wow, this is like, so cool! I love chess! I mean, chess-boxing.”
“Really?”
“Yes. We have a team at school, and, well, I can’t participate, being a girl and all, but I go to all the practices, and sometimes they let me make a few moves, but I can’t play an entire game, because, like, my endgame is so bad. And once, when nobody was there, Tommy DeMarco let me wear his gloves and took a picture of me. It was, like, so cool! And I read all the books and watch all the tournaments on the Internet. It’s too intense for words!”
“Santa Maria, help me…” Enrique moaned.
“Are you two into Chess Boxing? I’d like to go see the big match, but I have no tickets. You heard about the big match? It’s that Russian heavyweight, he’s like undefeated, you think McKenna can take him?”
“Well, given McKenna’s reach, weight, and his extensive theoretical knowledge of the King’s Indian,“ Favreau said thoughtfully, “I’d say Klichkovsky by knockout, round three at the most.”
“Wow, you sound like you really know this stuff! Did you ever played in a tournament? I think you should, because you have…” And at that moment the flow of words pouring out of Lisa’s mouth was cut off, when Favreau removed his sunglasses and turned to face her.

“Whoa! I know you, you are Vincent ‘Vindicator’ Fay-vro.”
“It’s F-a-v-r-e-a-u, girl. Rhymes with Thoreau.”
“Right, right. I have like all your games on DVD. That Best Game of the Year from 2014 is my favorite.”
“Yeah, I sure nailed that Russian with Rook to d7.”
“Wow, I’m in the same car with the Vindicator! Eat your heart out, Tommy DeMarco! So, are you going to see the big match too?”
“Well,” Dominguez joined the conversation, “He’s most likely to be unconscious by the time the big match will start, but yes, we’re going to the match. We’re the undercard.”
“Hey, I know you too, you’re Enrique ‘Endgame’ Dominguez! This is like a dream!”
“Or a nightmare….”
“Hey, if that’s not too much to ask, can you guys, like, help me with my endgame? Whoa, silly me, why am I even asking. Here’s ‘Endgame’ Dominguez, and I’m asking him if he can help little silly me. I didn’t mean to offend you, Mr. Dominguez.”
“None taken. But I don’t think –”
“Great! So tell me, a rook and pawn against a rook – is it a win or a draw?”
“Well,” Dominguez was now in his element, “it all depends on the position. The weak side should seek the Philidor position, which is the clearest drawing technique. King on the last row in front of the pawn, rook on the sixth, cutting off the enemy king. If the pawn ever goes to the sixth row, bounce the rook to the first row at once, and give checks from behind.”
“Wow. That is so cool. Can I take a moment to write it down?”
“Sure. Take as long as you like.”

Lisa fished a notepad and a pencil out of her jacket’s pocket and meticulously wrote down every word, then asked, “So how does the side with the pawn win?”
“Well, the clearest win is the Lucena position. If the other king was pushed away from the pawn’s queening square, occupy it with your king and drive the pawn to the seventh row. The defender meanwhile will try to trap your king there using his own king and rook. Kick his king away with a rook check, and then, and this is the important part, bring the rook up to the fifth row. This creates a shelter from checks. Take your king out, hide it behind the rook. Simple, really.”
“As long as you don’t have to do it with two broken ribs, a black eye and a concussion,” Favreau said, “Like I did in Moscow a few years ago.”

A few more minutes passed in silence, except for the howling of the wind, the roar of the engine and the scribbling of Lisa’s pencil. Then she put the notepad aside and said, “You know, Mr. Dominguez, I really liked your style. Too bad about what happened in Madison Square Garden.”
“He doesn’t like to talk about it, girl.”
“Will you two stop it about the Garden? That’s all I hear about since we started this trip. Garden, Garden, Garden. You’re like a pair of old ladies. You’re getting on my nerves.”
“Well, we would gladly stop asking if you’d just tell us.”
Suddenly Dominguez slammed on the breaks and parked the car at the side of the road. “Ok, I’ll tell. But you drive now.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s an emotional issue for me. I can’t drive and … you know.”

“So,” he continued after he and Vince changed places and the convertible merged into the highway traffic again, “I’m up against this guy from Congo, Charles Kabeela. It’s a big match; winner advances to the Candidates tournament, right? And my trainer, Markov, you remember Markov, right, Vince? He says to me with this horrible Russian accent – ‘You take care from this guy. Some say he plays like a girl, but you watch your step, because one move and it can be over’. So we sit down, I have black, no big deal, and we start with the Sveshnikov Sicilian – 1.e4 c5 2.Nf3 Nc6 3.d4 cxd5 4.Nxd4 Nf3 5.Nc3 e5 6.Nb5 d6 – so far so good, right? And then he goes 7.Nd5 on me. And I think to myself oh my god; this guy really plays like a girl. I mean, I exchange on d5, and black’s main weakness in the Sveshnikov, the backward pawn on the open d-file, is gone.”
“So you exchange knights, and then?”
“I exchange, 7…Nxd5 8.exd5 Ne7 9.c4 and now I’m thinking a6 is the thematic move here, chasing away the knight and then continuing development. So I go 9…a6. And he doesn’t even look at the knight, and goes 10.Qa4.”
“And then?”
“And I’m thinking, this is too much. Ok, so he pins my a-pawn to my rook so I can’t take his knight at once, but two can play the pinning game. So I pin his knight to his queen with 10…Bd7, and I’m thinking wow, I’m about to enter the first boxing round a piece ahead, and that’s it – the guy goes 11.Nxd6# on me! That’s it, mate on move 11, before the first gong. I mean, if I could at least hang in there for one round of boxing, I’d have a chance to knock him out or something, but checkmate – this is it.”
“So this was it?” Lisa asked, wide eyed.
“This was it. And apparently, Todd Santoro and his partners had a lot of money riding on this match, so he was understandably pissed off. They spread the word that I sold the match. Plus, Markov stopped coaching me. He said I never listen to him anyway.”
“Hey, look,” Vince said, “We passed the Nevada state line and didn’t even notice it. One more hour, Vegas baby!”
“Yeah, time sure flies when you’re having fun!” Lisa exclaimed.

To be continued …