Once upon a time, in a chess club not far from here, there was a gifted player who wanted desperately to be a master. He thought that if he played enough games his natural talent would be sufficient to achieve his ambition but, alas, it wasn’t so.
Time and again he lost to players who were less brilliant than himself but who had spent much time studying chess books and master games. He found himself constantly slipping into inferior positions from which his most cunning tricks and traps were unable to extricate him. As time passed he became more despondent. He didn't know what to do.
Most people would have bought some books and tried to correct the problem but that avenue wasn’t available to him – he was dyslexic and couldn't decipher the strange notation and the even stranger names of the players.
Finally he decided to make a pact with the Devil—he would give up his soul in exchange for chess fame.
But it was all to no avail because, even then, his dyslexia proved to be his downfall . . . he discovered too late that he had sold his soul to Santa!
Merry Christmas to all and a happy New Year. May your pawns turn into queens for the whole of 2005.
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