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  • Friday, August 2, 2019

    Feeling Good About A Win

         Forty-four years is a long time and I don’t remember the hotel’s name where the Eastern Open was played in Washington, D.C. in 1975, but my records show I scored +2 -2 =1. I do remember two things about the hotel. One was the grill where breakfast was served. It was run by a rough looking guy who, when you sat down at the counter, ignored you. What you had to do was direct a shout at him saying what you wanted and in a few minutes he set your order down in front of you. Weird. 
         I had planned to leave the hotel for home on Monday morning, but because my last round game finished early I decided to avoid a lot of traffic and leave Sunday evening. After checking out of the hotel I gave the claim check for my car to the doorman who informed me that the garage was closed and I couldn’t get my car until Monday morning. I explained that nowhere and at no time was I informed of this and there was no notice posted about any of that. Plus, I needed my car! After some haggling he called the parking lot owner who came down and retrieved my car. Until the owner got there I sat on my suitcase out on the sidewalk. 
         Once I got my car I was on my merry way...or so I thought. Getting out of Washington proved harder than I expected. I saw the sign for the route I wanted, but kept missing my turn because of the confusing array of one way streets. 
         After a few frustrating attempts to get to the on ramp of the route I wanted, the best solution was to simply take a street running north out of town thinking that sooner or later I’d hit an Interstate. The only problem was I eventually ended up in a residential neighborhood with a frustratingly slow 25 mph speed limit. 
         It was getting dark when I hit a river and the only way across was on a ferry, but the ferry was closed until Monday morning. From that point I started traveling west and eventually found a road which took me north to I-495. By that time it was late at night, but at least from there it was clear sailing.
         This tournament was one of the few to which I have all my games scores and looking over the games they were all pretty exciting even if not especially well played. Apparently at that time I thought I was a mini-Tal because sacrifices abounded. I like to call them sacrifices, but in reality they were blunders that cost a piece, but at least the blunders were deliberate! 
         In the following game from the last round I needed a win to beak even, but there was a note after my 31st move that I offered a draw. I distinctly remember my opponent snorting and sneering, “Are you kidding me?” It wasn’t long after that he blundered and lost and that made me feel really good. 

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