Sep 11

Sep 11 Checkmate In the Park

“This is the moment we’ll remember
Every day for the rest of our lives
Time may rush us, hurt or love us
But on this day we have arrived

It’s been a long time coming
We’ve been in the running for so long
But now we’re on our way
Let the ride just take us
Side by side and make us
See the world through new eyes every day”

— Winner, Pet Shop Boys, from Elysium (2012)

I had a timed ticket for the Met’s much praised exhibit, The New Women Behind the Camera. Departing at 9AM from my hotel on 57th and Sixth Avenue, I had planned to arrive at the Met by 10 AM. I knew I would capture a few images on my way as I moved like a bishop on a diagonal through Central Park. That shortcut was my downfall. When I arrived at the terrace overlooking the Bethesda Fountain—you’ve seen it Annie Hall, the Odd Couple, Igby Goes Down, Marathon Man, and John Wick, Chapter 2—I looked down. The fountain was the center of what looked like a bicycle tire, with spokes emanating from the fountain’s basin. Each spoke was comprised of blue-and-white-checkered chessboards sitting atop long tables. It was early, but kids and some adults already sat on opposite sides, facing off in the 2021 Chess in the Park Rapid Open. The first match began at 10 AM, but games were already underway. Entry was limited to 850, with participants divided into divisions. By my visual estimate, most were in the “Under 12” division.

The tournament is one of 25 sponsored annually by Chess in the Schools, which claims to have taught over 500,000 students to play the game in 48 New York City schools. It provided the boards, but the kids had to bring their own clocks.

I couldn’t resist this visual spectacle, particularly after seeing Queen’s Gambit and recalling that Evelyn’s first husband was a chess International Grandmaster who competed back in the day. But I was still committed to The Women, so after 20 or so minutes I headed to the Met.

I, however, could not concentrate on the images hanging on the walls as I walked through what looked to be an excellent exhibit. It was a beautiful day—and the last two had been anything but. After 30 minutes, I conceded the issue. Ruth Orrin and Helen Levitt would have told me to go for it—they were the great mid-century photographers of children. Orkin earned her place in the Edward Steichen’s Family of Man at MoMA with The Card Players, and Levitt eventually filled books with street urchins sitting on brownstone stoops and playing in empty lots. The kids in Central Park were playing speed chess, and I had just speed-walked through a museum exhibit. Like the kids, I played by the rules—looking at every photograph and reading each plaque filled with text, but unlike the kids, I did not do justice to what was in front of me.

After 10 minutes on the Met’s rooftop, I headed back to the Bethesda Fountain, where I spent the next two hours photographing. The matches start at the top of each hour, with the play completed in somewhere between 20 to 30 minutes. The rules are simple. Each pair must start its timer before play begins—failure to do so results in a draw. The victor raises his or her hand after checkmate, so that an official can record the results. Some players recorded their moves; most did not.

Surprisingly, the kids were pretty much left to themselves. I expected to see hovering parents, but there were not as many as I expected. Many of the players couldn’t have been older than nine or ten. All of them knew what they were doing.

When I envision a chess tournament, I see two men seated across a table, with each taking their time studying the board before committing to a move. Kids have a different take on life, as any photographer who has seen photos created by kids knows. Chess is no different. In many cases, one move was followed by another within 15 to 30 seconds.

At times, adults sat at the tables. Afterwards I read the entry flyer. There was an adult division, but for the most part, the day belonged to those under 12.

As usual, the kids have much to teach the adults. One player who was probably 11 told, his 8- or 9-year-old brother, “It is better to lose all your pieces with legal moves than to win with even a single illegal move." He then looked up at his father seeking confirmation. Virtue at such a young age; Aristotle would have been pleased.

My favorite player was the young girl who captured yet another piece from her opponent with the exclamation, “I got you,” followed with a little cackle.

I’ll stick to Monopoly, which is more my speed.

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