Victor the Second – Part One
(or, A Thrilla
in Manila)
A Play in Five
Acts: A Chess Tragedy
by Willie the
Shake
DRAMATIS
PERSONAE
VICTOR – a
chess player, challenger for the World Chess Championship
FIRST SECOND
SECOND SECOND – aides,
attendants and advisors to Victor
THIRD SECOND
CRONE – a
sorceress, an old witch
GURU – a sage,
a modern-day hippie from the 1960s
CHORUS
SCENE – Somewhere
in the Philippines,
partly in Manila
Prologue
[Enter
Chorus]
CHORUS Oh, to express,
with worthy stress,
And
real success, the heartiness
With
which I bless the manliness
And
charm of chess.
For
who can guess what broad excess
Of
steadiness and thoughtfulness
One
must possess, so that success
May
crown one’s chess?
And
I confess that no duress,
Or
dire distress, could e’er repress
The
eagerness with which I press
To
play at chess.
No
pitiless fair sorceress,
By
soft caress, or looks or dress,
Could
dispossess me of my, – yes!
My
love of chess.
[Exeunt]
Act
One
Somewhere in
the Philippines
[Enter Victor]
VICTOR My preparations are at
last complete
This
long-awaited battle to begin.
My plot to
seize proud Anatoly’s crown is hatched.
The prize is
well within my reach.
My fingers
lust to squeeze that scrawny neck
And from his
greasy hair remove the jewels.
He calls
himself a champion,
Although the
throne whereon he perches
Is itself
maintained by evil forces from an Eastern land,
Where once I
dwelt but never shall return.
But wait,
there’s yet a little work to do.
I’ll summon
forth my valiant band of aides.
Come in, my
seconds, we must analyze
The
Nimzo-Indian and the Queen’s Gambit Declined.
[Enter
Victor’s three Seconds]
FIRST SECOND And not just those, sweet Victor.
We must plan
foul stratagems,
To
disconcert the foe.
SECOND SECOND I have some ready ruses to disturb the
equanimity
Of all those
who dare combine their strengths,
Our forces
to oppose.
THIRD SECOND Delve first, my liege, into my bag of
tricks
As ne’er in
a menagerie were seen.
I speak of
yoghurt and reflecting specs,
And evil
eyes and electronic beams.
Against such
weapons no one can resist.
VICTOR That sounds fair sport
If mischief
be the game,
I’ll act
upon vile Hecate’s advice.
Come forth,
old Crone.
[Enter
Crone]
And tell me
what the days ahead
Hold for my
prospects.
CRONE Three months long the
battle will be fought,
And many
wounds sustained in the fight.
But mark my
words:
Look upon
the yoghurt when ’tis blue!
[Exit
Crone]
THIRD SECOND What means these words?
I fear they
bode no good.
SECOND SECOND Methinks the hag’s
Completely
out to lunch.
FIRST SECOND But soft! ’tis possible the room is
bugged,
And Russian
buggers* hear our every word.
VICTOR Then perchance we may play
a merry prank;
With
information false we’ll ply their ears.
Let’s talk
of king’s pawn openings
And such
defenses which I have no mind to play.
And if our
bugging foes do o’er hear, thereby ensure
By their own
bugs, the buggers buggered be.
[Exeunt]
* In the First Folio this appears as, “rushing Bulgars,” considered
by some scholars to be a reference to itinerant Bulgarian gentlemen visiting
the Russian camp.
Act Two
Manila, two
weeks later, backstage at the Championship match.
[Enter
Victor and his three seconds]
VICTOR Six draws and now a
seventh seems at hand.
I thought
this game was won and yet I erred
When pressed
for time.
And now the
scoundrel can escape.
Where lies
the cause of my poor play?
FIRST SECOND Remember’st thou the words of Hecate?
Methinks the
answer’s in his dairy foods.
SECOND SECOND Nay that is not to blame.
The reason
lies in something psychological.
Hast thou
not seen that wicked staring face
Which sits
each day upon the seventh row?
THIRD SECOND We must protest upon’t,
And have him
thrown back to the chamber’s rear
Where he
belongs.
I’ll pen a
missive to the arbiter.
Meanwhile,
put on these glasses which reflect;
They’ll turn
his evil magic on himself.
FIRST SECOND But don’t forget the yoghurt in your
note;
For if
grievance is menu for the day,
Be sure we
do complain both well and long.
VICTOR [aside] These seconds do protest too much,
methinks.
Alas, poor
yoghurt, I knew it well.
See this
position wherein I’ve adjourned.
There’s
tricks yet to be found. Come, analyze!
[gathering all
around the board]
FIRST SECOND That’s best!
SECOND SECOND Nay, this!
THIRD SECOND No, something else instead.
VICTOR Work well, dear friends.
I’m weary and off to bed.
[Exeunt]
Act Three
Victor’s
bedroom, seven weeks later.
[Enter
Victor]
VICTOR If it were done, when ’tis
done, then ’twere well
It were done
quickly:
Is this a dagger
which I see before me,
The handle
toward my hand?
O, what a
rogue and blundering slob am I
That I have
these last seven weeks winless gone!
My efforts
have nay captured much success.
Twenty
draws;
Five battles
have I lost, and won but two.
One more
defeat will surely be my last.
Is my
ambition to be thwarted thus without a fight?
That master
of man’s fate
Appears to
have it in for me betimes.
Those
sixty-four vile squares
Have oft
conspired to dash my hopes,
And yet one
chance remains.
If I can put
four victories secure
Before I
lose again, then all is well.
But how to
tame that unresponsive wood
Whereof the
men who dwell upon my board are fashioned?
How to make
them do my will?
Those kings,
queens, rooks, bishops, knights,
E’en the
pawns will ne’er do as they’re bid.
Those
bishops foul!
Those
bishops do upset me most:
They
practise their ecclesiastic walk
Upon those
vain diagonals of life.
There, on
c1, one smugly sits
As if to
tell me I know not where he should move,
And will
not, should I wrack my very brain another million years.
Which square
is best?
To d2? – e3?
– f4? – g5? – h6?
Or even b2
with a craven fianchetto end it. –
b2 or not
b2, that is the question.
[a flourish of
hautboys within]
[Enter
Guru]
GURU Hey
man, what’s all this uptight misery?
You know
what’s wrong, eh?
Your aura’s
like all screwed up, man.
Like,
transcendental meditation, man,
Is what you
need to cool the current scene.
VICTOR What says this apparition?
His strange
tongue lies outside my experience,
And yet, I
feel there might be worth in what he says.
Speak on,
good friend.
I’ll follow
your advice.
GURU Good
thinking, man,
Together we
can beat this para-psychic, mumbo-jumbo crap.
I’ll teach
you lots of mantras to recite,
And how to
win by standing on your head.
VICTOR Upon my head? Can this
indeed be true?
I’ll try it!
After all, I lag five-two.
[Exeunt,
performing head stands]
Act Four
[A room
backstage in the challenger’s camp, two weeks later.]
[Enter all.]
VICTOR Five-two, five-three,
five-four, and now five-five!
Like
Banquo’s ghost, I’ve come back from the grave.
FIRST SECOND We’ve got him now,
Just two
more games methinks;
One with
Black, one with White,
And then the
trophy’s ours.
SECOND SECOND For once we’re all agreed.
The match
seems secure;
And
Anatoly’s crown is ripe to be plucked.
THIRD SECOND Go out and draw today with pieces Black.
The
thirty-second game will foretell his doom.
VICTOR This day my Pirc Defense
Will make
him work for half-a-point,
Then Friday
morn with these same White men
Which today
he holds,
I’ll break
down his defenses.
Ergo, the
prize for which we’ve laboured
O’er these
past long months,
Will be at
last ensconced in mine own hands.
Once more
unto the breach, dear friends, once more;
Farewell,
dear advisors,
I’m off to
play the Pirc.
GURU Hey!
Keep cool, man. Chill it.
Don’t forget
the headstand bit.
CRONE When the battle’s lost
and won,
When the
yoghurt’s overdone,
Tooth of
gerbil, eye of cat,
Leg of
Pirc’s opening bat,
Makes a
magic foul and hairy,
Fair is
foul, and foul is scary,
See a pawn
and pick it up,
Drop it in
his coffee cup;
For the
tea-bags do foretell
Death for
one we all know well.
[Exeunt]
Act Five
The same, five
hours later.
[a cry of
anguish within]
[Enter
all.]
FIRST SECOND Omigod!
SECOND SECOND Oh dear!
THIRD SECOND Oh no!
CRONE I told you so!
You heeded
not the warning in the tea;
And now
you’ve paid the price,
And lost the
match.
VICTOR The match and all for
which we’ve fought so hard
Are lost
indeed.
My destiny
was not so easily o’er come.
It seems I’m
doomed to rise not to the first place,
But may stay
at second. –
And yet I
live to fight again.
So, gloating
Crone, your prophecy was false:
I am not
dead.
Yet may it
still come true.
That death
of which you spoke could be thine own.
[Takes a dagger
and stabs Crone]
CRONE Oh infamy, oh villainy,
oh treachery, oh hell!
[Dies]
VICTOR With that I’m freed from
her pernicious spell.
Come, goodly
Seconds, I’ve faith in you,
There’ll be
a better ending to Part Two.
[Exeunt]
Epilogue
[Enter Chorus]
CHORUS An
old hare hoar,
And
an old hare hoar,
Is
very good meat in Lent:
But
a hare that is hoar
Is
too much for a score,
When
it hoars ere it be spent.
A
great while ago,
Our
skit was again,
With
a hey, and a ho,
The
wind and the rain:
But
that’s all one,
Our
play is done; –
We
wish it had not ere begun.
[Exeunt]
FINE
The game before
the last scene was as follows, (which was the final game of the 1978 World
Championship):
Anatoly Karpov
– Viktor Korchnoi
Pirc Defence
1. e4 d6 15. h3 Nd7 29. Be2 Be6
2. d4 Nf3 16. Qe3 Ba8 30.
c4 Nb4
3. Nc3 g6 17. Bh6 b5 31.
Qxc5 Qb8
4. Nf3 Bg7 18. Bxg7 Kxg7 32.
Bf1 Rc8
5. Be2 0-0 19. Bf1 Nf6 33.
Qg5 Kh8
6. 0-0 c5 20. axb5 axb5 34.
Rd2 Nc6
7. d5 Na6 21. Ne2 Bb7 35.
Qh6 Rg8
8. Bf4 Nc7 22. Ng3 Ra8 36.
Nf3 Qf8
9. a4 b6 23. c3 Ra4 37. Qe3 Kg7
10. Re1 Bb7 24.
Bd3 Qa8? 38. Ng5 Bd7
11. Bc4 Nh5 25.
e5! dxe5 39. b4 Qa8
12. Bg5 Nf6 26.
Qxe5 Ncxd5 40. b5 Na5
13. Qd3 a6 27.
Bxb5 Ra7 41. b6 Rb7
14. Rad1 Rb8 28.
Nh4 Bc8 1-0
