BOBBY FISCHER IS DEAD, AND I AM DEVASTATED- originally posted 01/18/2008

I was extremely saddened to learn about the death of one of my heroes, Bobby Fischer, of kidney failure, at the age of 64. He was, perhaps, the greatest chess player of the 20th century (only Lasker, Capablanca, or Alekhine could compare). His feats are the stuff of legend: winning a brilliancy Hans Kmoch called "the Game of the Century" against Donald Byrne in 1956, winning the U.S. Chess Championship at the age of 14, going 11-0 in the 1963-64 US Championship and never losing a U.S. Championship he competed it, beating Mark Taimanov and Bent Larsen by 6-0 scores in the Candidates Matches of 1971, followed by crushing the great Tigran Petrosian 6.5-2.5 in the Final Candidates Match. Then, to complete his conquest of the Soviet Chess Machine, he defeated the gracious Boris Spassky, 12.5-8.5 in the genuine Match of the Century in Reykjavik 1972. Fischer was a greater player than either Anatoly Karpov or Gary Kasparov because, unlike the latter two, who had an army of strong players and creative men working on opening novelties for their use, Bobby did it all on his own. He also wrote a great book titled My Sixty Memorable Games, which appears on the short list of any thoughtful chess player's favorite books.

I'm particularly saddened thinking about the terribly lonely life Bobby had. He was a highly principled, yet simple person, honest to a fault and a bit naive. Bobby was exploited, ridiculed wrongly as a spoiled brat, and never fully appreciated for the genius he was until after he abandoned the game that abandoned him. He demanded the best playing conditions and the largest prizes possible, not because he was a greedy prima donna, but because he cared about the life of chess professionals. Indeed, the million dollar purses for today's world championship matches would be inconceivable without Fischer.

His post-1972 life, where he became a virtual recluse, has been well-documented. To his unfortunate anti-Jewish, anti-American rants I have explanations, but not a defense. What is making me bawl like a baby right now as I type this is the saddening thought that Bobby never realized how many people throughout the world loved and revered him. Deep down, he was a sweet man. I wish there was a way I could have told him how much he meant to me, how much he inspired me and so many others. Although I never met him, I feel such an overwhelming sense of emptiness and loss right now.

The quote Horatio said as Hamlet was dying at the end of Shakespeare's greatest play, "Good night, sweet prince," is so appropriate this evening. God Bless You, Bobby, and I will pray for you. You will be terribly missed.

Your Fan, Tony