Ennio Morricone: “I’m not a seer”
“All my life can be summed up in just one word: after”. [Read more]. |
Ennio Morricone shares two passions in common with Judit Polgár: chess, and music. Photo: Chessgames.com.
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Pitlochry, Scotland: Elsie and Euan play chess by candlelight after a power cut. Photo: Russell Cheyne/Reuters.
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And please, when you run into the unique Associazione Culturale “Il Delta della Luna”, don’t forget to enjoy Fischerandom and classical chess! Every Friday from 17,00 to 18,30.
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In Patti Smith’s new memoir, ‘M Train’, the 68-year-old author reveals an interior life that seems to befit a 19th-century poet more than a 21st-century rocker
Bobby Fischer was an aficionado of ’50s rock. One surreal encounter that Ms. Smith describes – and has discussed publicly – is an all-night meeting with the chess prodigy in Reykjavík. After some initial awkwardness the two found common ground by singing the songs of Buddy Holly and others from the golden age of rock ’n’ roll. At one point, Ms. Smith recalls, Fischer’s bodyguard burst in on the meeting, alarmed by hearing “something strange”. It turned out to be the chess champ singing the falsetto chorus from “Big Girls Don’t Cry”. [Read more]. |
Da venerdì 4 a domenica 6 settembre (ore 17,00 – 19,00) l’Associazione Culturale “Il Delta della Luna” sarà presente con un proprio stand dedicato agli scacchi (idem to say scacchi classici e scacchi960) alla Festa dello Sport e del Benessere presso i Giardini della Nave a Rovezzano a Firenze. La partecipazione è libera. L’ingresso ai Giardini della Nave a Rovezzano è in via Villamagna.
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Since its launch in 2010, the 黑庄户 (Hēi Zhuānghù) Auxilary Education Center in 朝阳区 (Cháoyáng District), 北京 (Běijīng), China, has always continued to promote and encourage chess to a diverse range of kids. Photo: sports.sina.com.cn.
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La discipline des échecs révèle, au fil des époques, l’ascension et le déclin des puissances de la planète. Pas étonnant qu’en France les échecs restent un pur plaisir de dilettante. [Read more].
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Jeu d’échecs géant à Lausanne, le 1er avril 2015 | REUTERS/Brendan Smialowski/Pool TPX.
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ROBERT JAMES FISCHER
“Bobby” (March 9, 1943 – January 17, 2008) I met with him in Iceland at midnight in a dark corner of an empty dining hall. Our designated body guards were appointed to stand vigil outside. We were not to speak of chess. What we did speak of, until dawn, was rock and roll. It was his boyhood passion. Through the night we must have sung a hundred songs. He knew every lyric to every fifties rock song, to every Motown song. He had all the dance moves. He still possessed the heart of the kid who dressed in sharkskin. The kid who beat the old fellows at chess in Washington Square for money to buy tickets to the Brooklyn Fox and Paramount. We had a good time. I watched him pull on his parka as we said goodbye. He was somewhat shattered and paranoiac yet within those dark eyes the intelligence, rage and humor that he possessed as a young Grandmaster still burned. No one owned him. He was a force that could not be contained. Genius is dangerous. Those that think it can be packaged are fools. Farewell, Bobby. I mourn you gone. If we meet again I will not mention chess. I will sing your favorite Buddy Holly song. You know the words. ROBERT JAMES FISCHER “Bobby” (9 marzo 1943 – 17 gennaio 2008) Lo incontrai in Islanda a mezzanotte in un angolo buio di una sala da pranzo vuota. Le nostre guardie del corpo vennero incaricate di vigilare all’esterno. Non parlammo di scacchi. Ciò di cui parlammo fino all’alba fu di rock and roll, la sua passione giovanile. Abbiamo cantato centinaia di canzoni, tutta la notte. Conosceva ogni parola di ogni canzone rock degli anni ’50, ogni canzone della Motown. Sapeva anche ballarle. Possedeva ancora il cuore del ragazzino che vestiva in sagrì, colui che giocava per soldi e vinceva con gli adulti in Washington Square per comprarsi un biglietto per il cinema. Ci divertimmo molto. Al momento di salutarsi lo ricordo mentre indossava il parka. Era malandato e paranoico e tuttavia dentro gli occhi scuri ardevano ancora l’intelligenza, il furore e l’umorismo del giovanissimo Grande Maestro. Non apparteneva a nessuno ed incarnava una forza incontenibile. Il genio è pericoloso. Pensare di imprigionarlo è follia. Addio, Bobby. Piango la tua dipartita. Se ci rincontreremo non ti parlerò di scacchi, ma ti canterò una canzone di Buddy Holly. La tua preferita. Le parole le sai. |
