Requiem for Fischer and Spassky

Last night I dreamt — not of Manderley, but of Bobby Fischer, whose 82nd birthday (had he lived) would have fallen next week (Sunday 9th March). The name of Bobby Fischer, like that of his American predecessor, Paul Morphy, still resonates with an iconic status among all chess enthusiasts. Fischer swept to the world chess crown by singlehandedly overthrowing the mighty Soviet chess imperium. En route to world victory, Fischer displayed a profundity of innovation, clarity of vision, unrivalled technical accuracy and determination, which should have marked him out as one of the greatest of champions and the grandest of Grandmasters.

Fischer reminds me of some western frontier hero, like Clint Eastwood in “The Good, The Bad and the Ugly”, who, to the accompaniment of a soundtrack by the chess-loving composer Ennio Morricone, regularly outwits and outguns the vast forces arrayed against him. In Eastwood’s case, ruthless assassins, unscrupulous bandits, unyielding, waterless desert wastes and both the Union and Confederate armies. In Fischer’s apotheosis, such grandmasters as Bent Larsen, Mark Taimanov and Tigran Petrosian, plus the serried ranks of analysts, seconds and sheer physical resources, which the USSR Chess Federation could bring to bear against the lone American. Indeed, a musical has already been based loosely on the Fischer legend, “Chess: The Musical” by Sir Tim Rice and the male half of ABBA.

As a challenger, Fischer was supreme. However, as champion, his achievements were zero. Without doubt, his record as champion was, and will remain, the most dismal in the entire chess Pantheon. From 1972, when he defeated Boris Spassky to seize the title, until 1975, when Fischer forfeited the championship without a shot being fired to his Soviet rival Anatoly Karpov, Fischer did not play one single game of competitive chess. This represented a curious echo of Paul Morphy’s retirement from chess in 1859. Having crushed the world’s best, the New Orleans genius challenged the entire planet to take him on at odds, received no takers and promptly abandoned chess.

How can Fischer’s behaviour be explained? Having scaled the chess Everest, was Fischer disturbed by the fact that even risking one more move might somehow endanger the mythic nimbus of invincibility that had swirled up around him? Or was there a deeper, darker reason, which caused Fischer to disappoint and shatter the dreams of his millions of fans? Was it this that caused him to shun the glory of future chess conquests and to spurn the millions of dollars on offer, in terms of the commercial endorsements, which inevitably attended the newly won status of World Champion in the planet’s most illustrious thinking sport?

The story of Bobby Fischer and his decline from resplendent champion to twice-jailed fugitive, via a spell of utter penury, reminds me of a modern Greek tragedy.

My main experience of watching Fischer in action first hand came at  the 1966 Olympiad in Havana, where the Soviet world champion Tigran Petrosian garnered the first of his two top board Olympiad golds. Meanwhile, Fischer who had been on course himself to win the gold medal, overreached himself at the last moment. The American lost to the nervous but talented Romanian Grandmaster Florin Gheorghiu — thus letting Petrosian inch past him at the final post. However, during the course of the competition, I was awed by Fischer’s ability to simply annihilate such powerful grandmasters as Gligoric, Portisch and Najdorf, with a dazzling array of bright new openings strategies, including his rearmament of Lasker’s old favourite, the exchange variation of the Ruy Lopez.

I never actually played against Bobby Fischer, who would undoubtedly have crushed me, but I did encounter, and defeat a number of players who in their turn had beaten Fischer in individual games. These included Jan Hein Donner, Svetozar Gligoric, Efim Geller and Vladimir Kovacevic, the last player to inflict defeat on Fischer before his victorious run in the 1971-1972 World Championship Series. I also attended one event, the 1968 Olympiad at Lugano, Switzerland, which Fischer was meant to grace with his presence, but which turned out to be symptomatic of what I shall term his tragic flaw.

I formed part of the English team at the Olympiad of Lugano in 1968, where Fischer was present and seemingly prepared to represent the US team on board one. Lo and behold, within a trice, he was gone, abruptly walking out on the event and also his team, and not for the first time. He had declined to play in the Piatigorsky Cup of 1963, the most important international chess competition in America for thirty-six years. He had abandoned a previous match against fellow American Sammy Reshevsky in mid stream, defaulted against the USSR in their team match at Havana 1966, walked out of the 1967 Sousse World Qualifier, when overall victory was already almost assured, while in the 1972 World Championship against Spassky, only the intervention of Dr. Henry Kissinger and the all-persuading gold of Britain’s Jim Slater, induced him to play.

Even then, Fischer defaulted game two. His forfeit against Karpov in 1975 was, therefore, entirely predictable. Indeed, I had personally predicted it, even before a single pawn had been moved in 1972. Among all these refusals, Fischer was fortunate that the chivalrous Spassky not only agreed to replay the defaulted game from 1966, but also refrained from claiming the entire match, after Fischer’s no show in game two of their 1972 World Title clash in Reykjavik.

Fischer’s tragic flaw, like that of Oedipus, was an integral part of him. It was Fischer’s bane that the one particular activity at which he excelled, like no other before him, playing superlative chess, both attracted and repelled him with equal force. Eventually, repulsion gained the upper hand and Bobby Fischer became the perfect example of a modern chess tragedy, the Oedipus Rex of the sixty-four squares.

Having won a heroic World Championship, placed chess at the forefront of world attention, by virtue of an American beating a Soviet in the Russian national game at the height of the Cold War, Fischer descended into virtual destitution. He had propelled chess to new heights of popularity, but was equally responsible for a drastic reversal of interest, by avoiding the challenge from Karpov. When Fischer did re-emerge, two decades later to play Spassky again, with three million dollars as the lure, the world had passed them both by. This was now the era of Garry Kasparov, of Nigel Short and soon ominously, that of Deep Blue and the mentation machines.

Bobby had become not just an Oedipus, but a post-Cretaceous remnant of the great saurian carnivores, Piscatorsaurus Rex, blinking impotently in the sun of a new era. His tragic future, after the second Spassky match, was to involve a spell in a Japanese prison, a desperate rescue by the Icelandic government and death: alone, friendless, paranoid and unloved, in a snow-bound suburb of Ultima Thule. When the second law of thermodynamics ultimately exacted its toll, having deliberately removed all of his own teeth on the basis that enemies had bugged them, Fischer was sixty four years old, the number of squares on the chessboard, which he had simultaneously so loved and so feared.

I have chosen the following little known game to commemorate Fischer’s skills. It was one of his earliest victories against a former world champion.

Robert James Fischer vs. Max Euwe

Leipzig Olympiad, USA-NED, 1960, rd. 7

1.e4 c6 2. d4 d5 3. exd5 cxd5 4. c4 Nf6 5. Nc3 Nc6 6. Nf3 Bg4 7. cxd5 Nxd5 8. Qb3 Bxf3 9. gxf3 e6 10. Qxb7 Nxd4 11. Bb5+ Nxb5 12. Qc6+ Ke7 13. Qxb5 Nxc3 14. bxc3 Qd7

A bold choice by Black who could have sought out quieter waters with 14… Rb8.

15.Rb1 Rd8?!

A near-uncharted line. Far more prudent is, 15… Qxb5 16. Rxb5 Rc8, with near-equality.

16.Be3 Qxb5 17. Rxb5 Rd7?

Far too passive. The best defences here, are pro-active, for example:

17. a) 17… a6 18. Ra5 g6 19. O-O Bg7 20. Bc5+ Kd7 21. Rxa6 Ra8 22. Rd1+ Kc7 23. Rad6 Be5 24. Rd7+ Kc6, Black has some compensation for the material in his superior pawn structure;
18. b) .. Ke8 18. Bxa7 Bd6 19. a4 Rc8 20. Rb7 Rc7 21. Rb8+ Ke7 22. Rxh8 Rxa7 23. Rxh7 Rxa4 24. Ke2 Ra2+ 25. Ke3 Bc5+ 26. Ke4 Re2+ 27. Kd3 Rxf2, when Black maintains a tenuous grip.
19. Ke2 f6 TN

Hardly better than the 18… g6, recently essayed in a blitz game, Ivanchuk-Vachier Lagrave, Leuven, 2017, 0-1. Our engine half-heartedly advises that 18… g5 also deserves attention. As we depart established theory, White is already close to attaining a winning situation.

19.Rd1 Rxd1 20. Kxd1 Kd7 21. Rb8 Kc6 22. Bxa7!?

It is not that this is a bad move, merely that White has much better options available in:-

22. a) 22. Rc8+ Kd7 23. Ra8 Kc6 24. Kc2 h5 25. a4 g5 26. Kd3 g4 27. f4 h4 28. a5 e5 29. f5 Bg7; or b) 22. Kc2 h5 23. Rc8+ Kb7 24. Re8 g5 25. Kd3 g4 26. Rxe6 Rh7 27. Rxf6 Be7 28. Rf5 Bd8 29. f4 h4; both of which are crushing attacks for White. But Fischer always liked taking material.

22… g5 23. a4 Bg7 24. Rb6+ Kd5 25. Rb7 Bf8 26. Rb8 Bg7 27. Rb5+ Kc6 28. Rb6+ Kd5 29. a5!?

Good enough, but even stronger is, 29. Rb7! where whether Black continues with 29… Bf8, or …Rg8, he is facing a difficult uphill struggle.

29… f5 30. Bb8 Rc8??

Necessary to maintain the status quo, was 30… Be5 31. c4+ Kd4 32. Bxe5+ Kxe5 33. a6 Kd4 34. Rxe6 Ra8, with some slim residual hope. After the text, Black is lost

31.a6 Rxc3 32. Rb5+?

White is fortunate to not lose all his winning advantage after this incorrect check. Correct is, 32. Rd6+ Kc5 33. Rd7 Kc6 (33… Rb3 34. a7) 34. Rxg7, when White is in full ascendency.

32… Kc4??

Black fails to grab this ultimate lifeline: 32… Kc6 33. Ra5 Bd4 34. a7 Bxa7 35. Rxa7 Rxf3 36. Ke2 Rb3 37. Be5 h5 38. Ra6+ Kd7 39. Ra8 g4 40. Rb8, when despite being worse, Black remains very much in the game. The text move is, however, absolutely damning.

33.Rb7 Bd4 34. Rc7+ Kd3 35. Rxc3+ Kxc3 36. Be5 Black resigns 1-0

At the start of Modeste Mussorgsky’s opera, Boris Godunov, discontented crowds gather in Moscow, both at the Novodevichy Monastery and outside the battlements of the Kremlin, to implore the new Czar, Boris, to save the people from the evils of the day; pandemic, famine, unemployment and general civil unrest. The crowd also articulates a desperate plea to rescue Russia from a metaphorical dragon, sent from Hell.

The evils associated with the infernal Dragon itself are not specified, but one can speculate on the usual litany of horrors during a time of troubles in early 17th-century Muscovy. Such horrors might, perhaps, have included: unstemmed illegal immigration; rising costs of bavin for fuel; higher taxation; attempts to obliterate the culture, heroes and traditions of the nation; men without a cervix, claiming to be women; widespread cancellation and boycotting of logical and independent thinkers, not to mention conspicuous failure by the authorities (in this case it would have been the Streltsy, the armed Muscovite constabulary) to deal with fanatic and hypocritical protesters, blocking the main arterial highways of the Russian imperium, thus frustrating trade and cruelly preventing the sick and dying from reaching the haven of Moscow Central hospital.

Also on the list of likely troubles would have been supine bleating from the Russian equivalent of Remainers, complaining about the decision in 1547, implemented by Czar Ivan the Terrible, to break with ossified international norms and declare Russia an autonomous empire. Last, but not least, widespread bogus claims of disastrous climate change, combined with predictions of hugely increased snow and ice, forecast by the pessimists to be a potentially great hindrance to Russian forces in future military campaigns.

Plus ça change.

In the opera, Czar Boris failed spectacularly, which led to the briefly successful advance on Moscow of the heretical false Dimitri, posing as Dimitri Ivanovich, the Tsarevich assassinated in the town of Uglich.

In chess terms our Boris, Boris Spassky, of course, also failed in his efforts to defeat the Dragon of Bobby Fischer, whose all too predictable refusal to defend the World Title he had won from the all too chivalrous Spassky, was a calamity for chess fans worldwide. The names of Fischer and Spassky are inextricably and immortally linked and the remainder of this week’s column is my panegyric to Czar Boris ( 30/01/1937-27/02/2025) who died this week aged 88. Also recognition for his brave, if futile, attempt to stave off the Dragon.

Boris Vasilievich Spassky was World Champion from 1969–1972. He was born in Leningrad in 1937, and spent the early part of his life and his chess career in Leningrad. He learnt chess at the age of five and by 11 (when he had attained the top class in the chess club of the pioneer house in Leningrad) he was already regarded as a boy prodigy with a wonderful future. At this club he was first trained by master Vladimir Zak and then by Grandmaster Alexander Tolush, both of whom lay great stress on tactical, attacking and combinational play.

As a boy prodigy, Boris accomplished feats that would have been worthy of a first-class adult master, with a second place at the age of 14 in the Leningrad championship followed by his first venture abroad, to the Bucharest international tournament in 1953. This was won convincingly by Spassky’s trainer, Tolush, but the 15-year-old Spassky had the remarkable result of tying for fourth place with the established Grandmasters Isaac Boleslavsky and Laszlo Szabo.

In 1955 Boris won the World Junior Championship at Antwerp and in the same year he qualified for the World Championship candidates tournament from the Gothenburg Interzonal. The following year showed a great advance. Still a teenager, he tied for first place in the Soviet championship and came equal third in the Candidates Tournament in Amsterdam. In 1961 Spassky won the Soviet championship outright for the first time and thereafter he climbed his way to the World Championship with a steady and sure grip. In 1964 he qualified from the Amsterdam Interzonal for the candidates which (at the behest of Bobby Fischer) had now become a series of matches, and then the following year he beat Paul Keres, Mikhail Tal and Efim Geller in successive matches.

In the contest for the World Title against Tigran Petrosian, he lost narrowly, by 11½ to 12½ points, but later in 1966 Spassky demonstrated that he had now become the leading tournament player in the world, by winning first prize in the very strong Piatigorsky Cup event at Santa Monica, ahead of a host of notables, including Fischer, Larsen, Petrosian and Donner, who finished in last place, thus demonstrating the powerful nature of the competition.

Then, in 1968, Spassky fought his way back through the candidates, beating first Geller, then Bent Larsen and finally Viktor Korchnoi, winning against this last formidable opponent by 6½ to 3½ points. In 1969 he finally became World Champion, beating Petrosian by 12½ to 10½ points. He was then still just 32.

As World Champion Spassky seemed in good form, but by 1972 it was apparent that his play had become insecure. In the chaos of conflicting negotiations with the Challenger Bobby Fischer, Spassky‘s chivalrous generosity, his refusal to bring the match to a premature end by insisting on his rights, won him the admiration of the world, but ultimately cost him his title. This remarkable match, played at Reykjavík, ended in a decisive victory for Fischer by 12½ points to 8½.

Boris Spassky defeats Bobby Fischer at Siegen, Germany, in 1970 (Alamy)

Fate had decreed that, from the late 1950s onwards, Boris Spassky and Bobby Fischer should be rivals, and that one day they would meet in the Cold War chess match of the century. Their first encounter had been in a tournament in South America, where Bobby Fischer refuted Spassky‘s opening and built up a winning position, only to lose the thread of the game. The next time they were to meet in an individual tournament was in 1966 at the Piatigorsky Cup in Santa Monica, where Spassky finished in first place and beat Fischer in their one decisive game. Four years were to pass before they again had a decisive result. Once again, at the Siegen 1970 Olympiad, Spassky emerged victorious, but by now Fischer had become determined to take the World Championship away from the Russians and in 1972 he did so, in a match that made headlines all the world over.

Paradoxically, Spassky moved swiftly into a 2-0 lead, so by the time of game 3 Boris led Bobby by the overwhelming lifetime score of five wins to zero. This perhaps engendered a surge of overconfidence in Boris, who now proceeded to collapse when Fischer started to play at his formidable best from game 3 onwards.

Fischer had defaulted game two and only agreed to continue with game three if it were played in a tiny private room without an audience. This was entirely against the rules and Spassky should never have agreed to these illegal conditions — conditions, indeed, which led to Fischer’s triumph, and his, in my opinion, inevitable decision to default the championship title, to avoid playing another serious game of chess for two decades, and to obliterate the hopes and expectations of millions of chess fans around the world.

Exit the Dragon!

“It doesn’t take much insight into human nature to predict that Fischer will not be world champion for long. His quirks, moods and whims will turn against him at the moment when he has reached the top. He’ll hit out hard, but at nothing but thin air.” J H Donner, Dutch Chess Grandmaster.

The game I have chosen to memorialise Boris Spassky is an epic clash which I witnessed first hand. As top board for the British Chess Federation team in the Finals of the Siegen Olympiad, I was privileged to have a ringside seat for this amazing game.

Boris Spassky vs. Robert James Fischer

Siegen Olympiad Final-A, 1970, rd. 6

1.d4Nf6 2. c4 g6 3. Nc3 d5 4. cxd5 Nxd5 5. e4 Nxc3 6. bxc3

As I learned from my interview with Spassky, after this game (which I watched in person as it unfolded), the then World Champion considered this position to be advantageous for White, in view of his strong pawn centre and attacking prospects on the king side. Obviously this is a judgement coloured by two factors, including Spassky’s impressive record with this line in previous games. If, from the theoretical point of view, Spassky does not succeed in defending his opinion successfully in this game, he does at least uphold it in practice.

6… Bg7 7. Bc4 c5 8. Ne2 Nc6 9. Be3 O-O 10. O-O Qc7

The sharpest continuation is 10… cxd4  11. cxd4  Bg4  12. f3 Na5  13. Bd3 Be6  14. d5  Bxa1  15. Qxa1 f6  White can of course side-step this with the calm 13. Rc1, preserving some advantage.

11.Rc1 Rd8

Spassky and Fischer reached the same position in their game from Santa Monica 1966, when Spassky chose 12 Qe1 and went on to win.

“As Spassky and Fischer were expected to meet in ‘the Match of the Century’ [between the Soviet Union and the Rest of the World], both players must have analysed the position after move 11 prior to this encounter.” (Zaitsev) Presumably Spassky wished to demonstrate his faith in the Exchange Gruenfeld, while Fischer desired revenge for his loss, hence the similarity of this opening to that of the Santa Monica game.

12.h3

White is the first to deviate from established paths: preparing to play f4 and g4 to assault the strategically important point f5 Spassky precludes the unpleasant pin … Bg4. Opening theory does not consider this variation to favour White and the game backs up this opinion. If this line is to be demonstrated as advantageous for White then an improvement will have to be found at this stage … perhaps 12. Kh1? “As usual, the World Champion does not try to decide the course of the game in the opening, a harmonious development and a strong centre is adequate.” (Zaitsev)

12… b6

Preparing to exert pressure against White’s centre with … Bg7 … Na5 coupled with …e6 and …f5, blockading White’s mobile pawns. This is Black’s most ambitious strategy. In the very same round on a neighbouring table the same position was reached in the game Gligoric v Hort, and the Czech grandmaster continued more modestly with 12… a6 and eventually drew.

13.f4 e6 14. Qe1 Na5 15. Bd3 f5

“After this move Black has theoretical equality, and the position enters the middlegame phase in a state of dynamic equilibrium. During the whole game Spassky remained seated and produced an effort of concentration comparable to that of his matches with Petrosian. Under these circumstances Spassky adopts a most singular attitude — with his facial expression completely devoid of any external preoccupations.” (O’Kelly).

16 g4

A remarkably aggressive move but quite “normal” according to Spassky and in fact absolutely necessary. If White does not resort to violence Black would be “playing without an opponent” and could carry out his plans without any hindrance. Against Fischer that would be fatal, so Spassky seeks to complicate the issue.

16… fxe4 17. Bxe4 Bb7 18. Ng3 Nc4

Very ambitious. Fischer is playing to win Spassky’s queen’s pawn, but at this stage another plan suggests itself: the prophylactic 18… Rf8 followed by… Rae8, with the long-term plan,…Bd5…Qc6…c4…Na5-b7-d6 etc. The idea is as follows: Black already stands better on the queen’s side, but in the centre and on the king’s side the struggle has yet to be resolved and could turn in either player’s favour since both sides have serious weaknesses in this sector. In the game itself, Fischer ignored the king’s side and tried to cash in on d4.

19.Bxb7

After 19. Bf2 Zaitsev gives as good for Black, 19… Bxe4 20. Qxe4 Nd2 21. Qxe6+ Kh8 22. Rfd1 Nf3+ 23. Kh1 Nh4 threatening …Qxf4 and …Re8 followed by check on the long diagonal.

19… Qxb7 20. Bf2

White concentrates his attack against the point e6, which balances out the soft spot on d4.

20… Qc6 21. Qe2 cxd4 22. cxd4 b5 23. Ne4 Bxd4

This capture of d4 looks very risky and (after the game) was widely condemned, with 23…  Rf8 and 24… Rae8 recommended as superior. It must be remembered, however, that Fischer was very anxious to win this game (a most praiseworthy attitude) and he had repeatedly demonstrated his willingness to suffer pressure if he could pick up a pawn in return. His predilection for the Poisoned Pawn Najdorf  was a case in point, and Fischer usually handled such positions with great skill.

Furthermore, on 23… Rf8 Zaitsev gives 24. a4 a6 25. Ng5 threatening 26. Nxe6 and 27. axb5. Black’s Q-side pawn majority is not yet dangerous, and the weakness of d4 is cancelled out by that of e6. “Clearly, a move like …Rf8 is not sufficient to fight for the initiative.” (Zaitsev). The c-file is of great value to White in this line, which is one reason I suggested 18…. Rf8 and …Rae8 before …cxd4.

24.Ng5 Bxf2+

In my opinion it was not the capture of the pawn but the subsequent exchange of the bishop which was at fault. It is difficult to guess at Fischer’s reason for this exchange. Perhaps he had hoped to retain the extra pawn by combining his defence with threats to White’s second rank.” (Zaitsev). Presumably Zaitsev wanted Fischer to avoid the exchange with 24… Bg7, but this means having to give back the extra pawn without a fight, and remember, Fischer was playing to win, so this course of action would hardly have struck him as appealing. Fischer errs hereabouts by seeking to extract more than is justifiable from the position, and suddenly discovers that events have slipped out of control.

25.Rxf2 Rd6

Not 25… Rd2? 26. Qxd2! but 25… Re8 may have been better. Presumably Fischer did not wish to relinquish the d-file.

26.Re1 Qb6 27. Ne4 Rd5 28. Nf6+

The attack commences. Black’s king’s position is seriously weakened by the absence of his king’s bishop and the resulting holes around his king. Curiously enough the absence of the king’s bishop also plagued Fischer in his game with Spassky from Santa Monica. Perhaps the beginner’s rule, that one should not exchange a fianchettoed king’s bishop, even for material gain, really does hold good.

28… Kh8

Now Fischer’s king is trapped in the corner. O’Kelly recommends 28… Kg7, surmising that Fischer had failed to realise that White’s next move was possible.

29.Qxe6

Now, after 29… Qxe6 30. Rxe6 the ending would be very bad for Black, since White can occupy the seventh rank.

29… Rd6

On 29… Rd1 !? O’Kelly gives the following refutation: “30. Qf7!! Rxe1+ 31. Kg2 and now

(i)  31…Qc6+ 32. Kg3 Re3+ 33. Kh4 Rxh3+ 34. Kxh3 Qh1+ 35. Rh2  and the checks run out. Or,

(ii) 31… Ne3+ 32. Kf3 Qc6+ 33. Kg3 Rg1+ 34. Kh4 Rxg4+ 35. hxg4 Qh1+ 36. Kg5 Rc8 37. Rd2 Nxg4 38. Rc2 Rd8 39. Re2 and wins.”

Quite a feat of calculation, since both grandmasters had to envisage these possibilities over the board. Perhaps Fischer noticed 38. Rc2! (in note (ii)) too late (i.e. after 28… Kh8) which may explain why he regarded 29. Qxe6 as unplayable.

30.Qe4 Rf8?

Better is 30… Rad8 31. g5 Rd3 32. Qe7 Rg3+ 33. Kh1 Rxh3+ 34. Kg1 Rg3+, and Black can protect h7 with his rook.

31.g5 Rd2 32. Rf1 Qc7?

A fatal error. Better was 32… Rxf2 33. Rxf2 Qe3 34. Qxe3 Nxe3 35. Rd2 Kg7, although White is obviously on top, now Black’s position goes straight downhill.

Rxd2 Nxd2 34. Qd4 Rd8

Walking a tight-rope, but it snaps. Imperative, if unsatisfactory, was 34… Qb6 35. Qxb6 axb6 36. Rd1 Rd8 37. Kg2 Rd6 38. Re1 – White should win.

35.Nd5+ Kg8 36. Rf2 Nc4 37. Re2 Rd6

Or 37… Qb6!? 38. Re8+!

38.Re8+ Kf7 39. Rf8+!

Winning the queen at least. Black resigns.

Ray’s 206th book, “  Chess in the Year of the King  ”, written in collaboration with Adam Black, and his 207th, “  Napoleon and Goethe: The Touchstone of Genius  ” (which discusses their relationship with chess) can be ordered from both Amazon and Blackwells. His 208th, the world record for chess books, written jointly with chess playing artist Barry Martin,  Chess through the Looking Glass ,  is now available from Amazon. 

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