Cathy Forbes

From Chess Monthly, August 1993:

Q: Who and what are you, exactly?

F: I'm basically a chess journalist, but my interests and activities vary. A former boyfriend, whom I met in the Labour Party, said I was a serious member of the Dillettante Tendency [weak pun on 'Militant Tendency', a Trotskyite faction purged from the Party in the 1980s -MA]. One of my most cherished long-term goals is to become a famous popsinger, to which end I devote hours of painstaking practice in karaoke bars, showers and bathtubs, when not working on my autobiography, Chess Isn't My Life.

Q: Do you PLAY chess?

F: Not very often and usually not very well [she's a WIM]. Chess is a very difficult game you know.

Q: Is it true you played chess with Bobby Fischer?

F: Yes, but again, I didn't really play well. I blundered after 27 moves. But at least I lasted longer than Spassky in Game 9 of the comeback match.

Q: How did you get to play Fischer?

F: Simple. I just took a taxi to Heathrow, a plane to Budapest, a taxi to Budapest station, a train from Budapest to Belgrade, then a train from Belgrade to Titograd, where I was arrested for filming the journey; then, having bribed my way out of the police station, I arrived in Sveti Stefan for the half-time press conference and wrote out three questions on the usual form for Mr. Robert Fischer. The third was "may I play a game of chess with you?"

Q: The oldest line in the book?

F: I didn't think of it that way. It wasn't so much a case of "I wanna be Bobby's Girl!" I mean, I didn't know the guy. "I wanna be Bobby's opponent!" seemed more appropriate at that stage of acquaintance.

Q: Were you nervous making such a cheeky request?

F: It was a tough decision to put that queston in. Brave, one journalist called it. But I thought, after a room full of soldiers and Kalashnikov's, who's afraid of Bobbby Fischer? And yet, there I was, shaking in my shoes. He read it out, asked my rating [ 2120 ], and said he'd think about it. The following evening, at the closing party marking the end of the first half of the match, he sent over his 'Bobbyguard', a guy called Nejsa, who said "Bobby wants to talk to you." I came over to his table and he said "We'll play a game, just quickly." I thought, "where? I don't see a set, clock etc." and then I realised he was indicating his own pocket set.

Q: What was it like to play him?

F: Well, he played his moves instantly, just casually flicking pieces forward with his fingertips, but I didn't follow suit because I just couldn't play at that pace. I wanted to concentrate and put up a respectable fight. He spoke to me for the first few moves, asking general questions about me and my work, chess in England, etc., but I can't remember exactly what he said because I was trying so hard to make sensible moves. This was particularly tough because not only am I unused to pocket sets, I was also half-pissed on Montenegrin brandy. Not that I'm making excuses, of course. Fischer may be past his peak, but he really is rather good, you know!

Q: What was your impression of Fischer as a person?

F: From the two months I spent observing him in Yugoslavia I could go and on about him, and I will, because he is uniquely fascinating. As everyone says, some with idolatrous wonder, he is a genius. All too often this word genius is cheaply bandied about, but Fischer is the genuine article, an intellectual extreme. Not hot-housed precocity, but extraordinary mental capacity and competitive drive. Prior to meeting him I'd read mostly of his weirdness, but much of what is written about Bobby is caricature and stereotype, not capturing his complexity. Personally, I found it hard to sustain a conversation with him, which was probably something to do with my profession. Bobby doesn't like being interviewed and he is abnormally sensitive to criticism. His distrust of journalists is so evident that I had to smother an irrational sense of guilt in order to write about him, i.e. to do my job. Bobby can behave 'normally' when he wants to. He can dance, laugh, joke and be friendly. But his behaviour is not consistent; he has highs and lows like everyone else, complicated by his unique status as the Messiah of chess. In Yugoslavia he was treated more like a head of State. He had more bodyguards than President Clinton. They love chess and Bobby there, and he liked that. His ego, the tender plant from which the flower of his talent grows, needs that kind of sunshine. Fischer is a fistful of contradictions. Super-efficient data input, muddled data processing. Informed but intolerant. Logical but unreasonable. Defiant but frightened. Lonely but so fearful of being exploited that he remains both lonely and exploited. 'Protecting' him from the outside world were some of the most unpleasant psychopaths I've ever encountered, in a country that is now, sadly, a trigger-happy psychopath's paradise. A brief psychological pen-picture of Fischer goes something like this: a brilliant 50-year-old adolescent.

Q: What about the match sponsor, Jezdimir Vasiljevic?

A: Well, he surrounded himself with thugs, and you can judge people by the company they keep. Like many Serbian men with a machismo problem, Boss Jezda's idea of impressing a girl is to show her the gun in his trousers. He told me it was an Uzi pistol. A real charmer. As a businessman, he was rather more original. He suddenly came from nowhere, chucked millions of dollars of uncertain origin all over the place, tempted investors with impossible rates of interest, and then vanished, as did his depositors' cash. I must say the collapse of Vasiljevic's bank and his sudden emigration to Israel came as no suprise to me, except that Israel let him in. What really did suprise me was how keen Campomanes was to do business with him. FIDE funded by Jugoskandic would have been a worse scandal than the Conservative Party sponsored by Asil Nadir.

Q: Did you have any romance with Fischer?

F: I am often asked this and I hate to disappoint, but the truth is that I just wasn't his type. He was a handsome youth, he's not bad-looking for his age, and I read that Bobby once liked "vivacious girls with big breasts." On that basis I should at least have been in with a chance, but all he asked me for was a copy of The Polgar Sisters.

From Chess Monthly, August 1993

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