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We all do certain things and surprise ourselves. One good reason to think back is to see if we can understand our motives better. Another is to shake our heads in tolerant disbelief.
Five years ago, I was a crazy chess fanatic who went from Chicago to New York just to watch a chess game. Now that I am not such an ardent follower anymore, I look back and wonder: Why did I go to such extremes to watch a chess game? Who goes to watch things that are being broadcast live on the Internet for free? The answers might lie buried somewhere in the whole story.
One day at lunch Srini, my colleague and friend let it casually drop that the world champion Garry Kasparov was slated to play a special chess-playing computer developed by IBM. I followed chess news faithfully, but this had somehow eluded me. He didn't know much more.
Right after returning from lunch, I browsed the Web and learned the details. This was going to be a six-game rematch. Hoping to avenge an earlier defeat at Kasparov’s hands, the IBM engineers had developed a specialized integrated circuit board by hard-wiring chess logic right into the computer’s chip. The computer was an IBM SP2 parallel machine with 32 CPUs. The machine was dubbed Deep Blue.
The match was to be played in New York City, with the winner pocketing a cool $700,000. Kasparov was in his peak and not many contested when he was described as the best player ever. The press came up with a nice tagline: The greatest chess player who ever lived would play the greatest chess player who never lived.
I always learn about interesting things after they get over. This was a sign and I knew that I had to go and watch one of the games live.
Fortunately, I found out that a few spectators were actually allowed. They were selling fewer than 100 tickets, all of them at $25 a pop. Chess is not really perceived to be a spectator sport. But when I called TicketMasters, all the tickets for all six games were sold out. New York is a chess-crazy city.
But I still wanted to go and try my luck anyway.
My wife Rupal agreed to accompany me. Srini, to whom the Artificial Intelligence aspect of the match appealed wanted to go as well. We were going to try to get in for Game Two. Kasparov beat Deep Blue in the first game.
So, on Sunday, May 4th 1997, the three of us boarded a plane bound for NYC’s LaGuardia airport. We only had our wallets with us, no luggage. We would take the last flight and be home for dinner. We took a bus and then a subway to the venue -- Equitable Center in midtown Manhattan.
Two hours before the start of Game 2, the three of us stood outside the building’s main door through which all the other spectators had to pass to get in. We made it a point to ask as many people as possible if they had any extra tickets to sell. None of us had thought to bring Tickets Wanted signs.
After about 45 minutes, we lucked out. One group sold us 2 tickets at face value. We still kept trying for one more. Srini and I agreed to take turns watching the game if we didn’t all manage to get in.
We sent Rupal inside to grab good seats for us, and we kept asking everyone we saw if anyone had a spare ticket that they wanted to sell. Around 15 minutes before game time, we got our third ticket, also at face value. Elated, Srini and I ran inside.
Once inside the auditorium, we had a big disappointment. Rupal informed us that Kasparov would be sitting alone in a room upstairs so that the audience wouldn’t disturb him. He was tucked away in some other room in the building and we would get to see him on the gigantic closed-circuit TV screen. To me taking all this trouble to come this far and paying twenty-five bucks each only to watch a chess-game on a TV seemed a bit of a let down.
But it was not all wasted. The organizers had done a lot of things to pep up the game for the spectators. Numerous grandmasters and computer chess mavens would be on the stage to “interpret” the game for us as it unfolded.
They had also mounted two huge electronic computer chessboards on the walls on either side of the stage for spectators to watch. ChessBase, a widely available and wildly popular chess-playing program was the engine that was powering these two boards.
With a few exceptions, the auditorium was filled with chess-crazy aficionados some with their pocket chess computers and others with pocket chess boards. I recognized them. These were people who had given everything to the game, knowing fully well that it wouldn’t help pay their bills.
Once the game started, I was particularly impressed by commentators Maurice Ashley and Yasser Seirawan, with their ESPN-style explanations of the ensuing tactical and strategic battle. Onstage, many GMs disagreed on how to evaluate a position, and each was able to back it up with convincing arguments which they illustrated by making some lightning-speed moves on one of the two chess screens. These guys were all chess gods, but I noticed that they unfailingly referred to Kasparov with reverence.
In move 19, Deep Blue stunned Kasparov. Instead of grabbing a free pawn, which the whole audience was expecting, the computer chose a defensive rook move and further improved its position. Kasparov seemed to have become unnerved. After four hours and 45 moves he saw no hope and resigned.
One big attraction for the spectators, we had been told was that Kasparov would come down to the auditorium, and field questions from the press. But we were in a quandary. The last flight to Chicago left at 8.30pm and we absolutely had to leave by 7.15. If we stayed to listen to Kasparov, there was a very good chance that we would miss our flight home. But the event organizers tempted us by announcing that Kasparov would come onstage and personally analyze this game shortly.
I wanted to stay back. Srini opted to play it safe and left to get on the flight. Because of me Rupal stayed back. I told her that we would only listen to Kasparov for 10 minutes.
The IBM team was ecstatic. The programmers of the chip gloated. GM Joel Benjamin, who was the resident expert who had trained Deep Blue beamed like a proud father. We waited impatiently as the clock ticked on. One Grandmaster after another came to talk about how significant this game was. But there was no sign of Kasparov. Close to 7.25 p.m. we were informed that Kasparov had left the building in a sulk, refusing to face the audience.
Rupal and I ran out, clinging to the slender hope that we might still catch our flight. We retraced our path, taking the subway and then the bus. We reached the flight gate 3 minutes before departure time. But the gate agents told us that the flight was closed, and there was nothing we could do about it. Exactly like in a cliched movie scene, we stared out of the floor-to-ceiling glass window and watched our flight pull out of the gate, with Srini onboard, but without us.
Even though what follows doesn’t have anything to with chess per se I would like to take a detour and describe what happened next. It was a big part of my Kasparov-Deep Blue experience and I don’t want to leave it out.
After we got over the fact that we were not going via United Airlines, we started to explore other airline possibilities. There was one American flight at 10 p.m., but we had to get out of the gate area to the ticket counter to buy the tickets. We went there and learned that the tickets would cost upwards of $125 per person. The next United flight was at 6 a.m. the following morning. We opted to stay back in NYC.
We wasted some time in dreaming about going to Jackson Heights, an Indian-neighborhood in the city, where we could get great Indian food. But it was late, and we were told that the best way to get there would be to take a cab, which we didn’t want to do. Then we started to make phone calls for motels for the night. No one would give us a room for anything under $150 for the night. The city was expensive.
By then it was past 10 p.m. and the possibility of spending the night at the airport became real. Our 6 a.m. departure meant that we would have to check-in around 5 a.m. Seven hours in an airport was fairly typical during International flights, but we hadn’t done it in a domestic airport. So we had a late dinner in the airport, and waited it out in one of the lounge areas.
While Rupal slept, I regretted my decision to take such a risk which had caused us to miss the last flight. I was angry at Kasparov for not showing up. I envied Srini’s sensible attitude. I didn’t mind the inconvenience myself, but I hated having to make Rupal go through all the trouble.
Even at night, the airport is a busy place. All night long janitors and security people milled around. After midnight, I wandered over to the area near the airport entrance. I saw that a few men and women in tattered clothes were sleeping in the couches there. Clearly these weren’t airline passengers; they were some of New York city’s homeless. Their life possessions fit into small plastic grocery bags. They had come to catch a little sleep, and I was happy that the security people had been kind enough to let them in instead of shooing them away. They served to remind me of how I took a home and warm for granted. My inconvenience paled into insignificance. When I went back to that area around 4.30 a.m., the homeless were no longer there. They had gone back to face another day in the daunting city.
Later that morning, we boarded the plane and because of the one-hour time difference, we were home in time for breakfast.
Back to the match. Game 2 actually became the most talked about game of the year and probably of the decade. The computer had played very sophisticated and “human” chess. A whole bunch of kids learned a new word – the computer had learned to make a prophylactic move.
Some people analyzed the game day and night, and proved that Kasparov could have actually drawn Game 2! By prematurely resigning, he had thrown away the game. That news must have been a further blow to him.
Games 3 and 4 were long-fought draws. And again, later analysis revealed that Kasparov could have possibly won Game 4.
Most people wouldn’t want to go to see a chess game. Others would try it may be once. But not me, I hadn’t learned my lesson. I chose to go to NYC again, the following Saturday to see Game 5.
This time, my colleague Krishna and his wife Sita were coming along. But we had a back up plan. If we missed the flight, Krishna had a friend in New Jersey with whom we could stay for the night.
At the venue, it was déjà vu for me. However, I had hand-made TICKETS WANTED signs that I had brought along. And this time, I knew that we had to score three tickets, because otherwise I would be the one left waiting outside.
We got our first ticket fairly easily. Many folks from the media, though they didn’t have tickets to offer, wanted to interview us. They said they wanted to mention in their write-ups the all-too-rare scramble for a ticket for a chess game.
One man came over and started chatting with Krishna and me. He had overheard us talking to the media.
“You guys came all the way from Chicago?”
We said yes.
“You came just to see the game?!”
We said yes again.
“I am willing to sell you mine,” he said.
“How much?” I asked.
He knew we were in a corner, and he was a city slicker, and I expected him to scalp us. “I’ll take fifty,” he said.
I was ready to start negotiating, but Krishna jumped in with a “No, thanks.” Krishna explained to me that scalping didn’t meet his moral standards. He didn’t want to pay anything more than face value!
Meanwhile, Sita scored one more ticket. We had two, and if we paid the guy his 50, we would all be in. It was only $8.33 per head extra. But Krishna was adamant. I was simultaneously frustrated and amused with his moral stance on this matter
The man was hovering around us, a hyena waiting for the prey to weaken. He was eager to pocket his extra $25 and get going. He must have sensed me weakening, for he walked over to me.
“How much you wanna pay?” he asked me.
“We don’t want the ticket,” Krishna said, answering for me.
The man pulled out his ticket hoping to tempt us.
“We’ll pay you $25,” Krishna told him, being perverse.
The man couldn’t believe our stubbornness. “What’s wrong with you guys?
You come all the way from Chicago and you don’t even want to pay an extra 25 bucks for a ticket?”
“You should go in and watch the game,” Krishna suggested gently to the guy.
“You guys must’ve paid hundreds of dollars for your plane ticket.” The man couldn’t believe our stupidity. A few minutes later, he gave up and went inside.
Krishna and Sita got in, and I was still holding up the sign but with diminished hopes. Past game time, miraculously, one lady from inside the building came out and agreed to sell me her ticket. Apparently, she had been able to get a media pass and didn’t have to use the ticket she had purchased. I paid her $25 and was in.
Inside the auditorium, I recognized many of the fanatics from the previous week. The game was very well-fought. All the grandmasters were convinced that Kasparov was winning. But a few moves later, he offered a draw which was gratefully accepted by the IBM team. Kasparov actually seemed to be in a happy mood, and he came over for the press conference. As soon as the ovation died down, his first words were, "I believe that I saw the draw before the machine did!" His ego was back in place. He then countered all the variations that other grandmasters attempted and showed them all how the game was, in fact, dead drawn.
It was late when the conference got over, and we went to Krishna’s friend Peri’s place. In contrast to the fiasco of the previous week at the airport, a great dinner was waiting for us. I slept in a bed and thought of the homeless. The next day, we had idlis and sambar before boarding a plane home.
That same day, a Sunday, Kasparov lost Game 6 with an amateurish mistake. The tension had taken its toll on him. The match was over, and Deep Blue had won 3.5-2.5. Those who wanted to be melodramatic claimed that humanity had lost.
So, again, why go to see a chess game? One reason is the desire to encounter the unexpected. Being out of our usual context reminds us of what we unthinkingly take for granted. Another, is to see the die-hard fanatics. Fanatics who dared to cross the line from mere dilettantes to true aficionados. Those chess fanatics, who had given up everything else and devoted their life to chess helped me realize something: If we are forever preoccupied with the safety net, we may forget to fly.
Ram Prasad
November 2002
Editor's Note: I obtained the photos for this article from the net and was surprised when Prasad wrote that the second photo was of the same game that he attended and that somewhere in the audience in the photo, Rupal and he and Srini are there.
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