The real scoop on the 1986 World Championship

by Andre Danican Grimshaw

Chief Chess Correspondent for the Vatican Chess News

What a delicious start! At the Press Conference there was already a large enough crowd for Grimshaw to sneak without credentials. Only later was it clear that none were needed. But when the real show started a proper badge (green, which clashed with my chosen attire) was needed to get past the Gurkha at the door. (Unfortunately, they had sold their entire consignment of hashish before my arrival.)

The Opening Gala, restricted to important people, the players, and sycophants, was quite something. Iron Lady Margaret Thatcher, the British Prime Minister, managed to survive the collective scorn of her guests, Sanctionists all, including lots of the Loony Left, to open the World Chess Championship Match, sponsored by the ghosts of her defeated enemies - the Greater London Council, a well-known leftie organisation. While French champagne flowed and Communist Caviar passed over countless stiff upper lips, the Military Band played popular tunes and unpopular anthems. Everyone was dressed in Black and/or White, though the thoughts were clearly red.

The match is well-organised. There was no chaos at the start of the first game. Raymond Keene, now sporting an O.B.E. looked at least one stone off his fighting "Penguin" weight, testimony to the long hours he has spent setting up the match. When one considers how often he has been wining and dining potential sponsors, one wonders how he did it! He has clearly been in training for this match against Campomanes, which is, after all, what the event is all about. Napoleon Reuben was simultaneously in Southampton for the Grieveson Kleinwort Benson Grant (that's enough sponsors - ed.) British Championships (ignored by the press and everyone else alike save the participants) and at the Park Lane match venue, proving that a little can go a long way.

David Levy and Kevin O'Connell no doubt received a sum not unadjacent to thousands of pounds for their fancy television displays, though judging from the reactions, especially from the Bears (Russian, not Yankee - the latter never showed up, see below), it may have been worth it.

Eric Schiller was again chosen to harass the press, but the generous facilities created few problems and he was effectively leashed by David Goodman's brother-in-law. His uncanny ability to predict the colour of the Champions shoes did not go unnoticed by this reporter. The attractive, if somewhat floozy Janet Krevine (Public Relationships) rushed about gushing over the wonderful press coverage (thank you, thank you!). The Fourth Estate is being serviced by a large, if rather motley crew, headed by Adam Black (no relation), whose name is constantly invoked by "Overlord" Schiller (as designated in the official bulletin) whenever there is real work to be done. Phil Walden (some relation) and import Jon Goldman, who seems more interested in that bizarre perversion of cricket called baseball than in the chess, help the barbarians among the press handle such simple functions as telex and photocopies (the latter never seem to work). Matronly Shiela Evans-Evans (what relation?) prepares tea and coffee for the staff (we have to purchase it at over a pound per cup!) and an attractive young girl named Polina smiles at the Communists and passes secrets to them in the Russian language. An abrasive American named Danny Olim (not his real name, surely!) loiters with intent, judging from his leering attitude.

There is a Grandmaster analysis room. Grimshaw is not deemed to be of sufficient standard to enter it, but with World Junior Champion Max Dlugy and Spanish GM Richard Calvo jabbering away it seems of little use. Jan Timman prefers the chaos of the Oak Room (the nerve centre) to the coffeehouse atmosphere in the Room of Mirrors. Dlugy spends more time courting the interpreter than studying the game, as his comments in the bulletin show (when legible}

Spectators are encouraged to rent earphones through which the inane babble of Nigel Davis and "guests", usually that well know chess authority Reuben Sandwich, who spends most of this time retelling the same old stories in the same old boring manner. Other guests include "buy-my-latest-book" Schiller, Andrew "I would have played it better" Martin , and several incomprehensible Icelanders. Never a grandmaster. The Grandmaster commentators spend most of their time examining the female members of the audience with an eye toward later discussion of mating positions. Tony "Campari" Miles is perpetually pissed, while Strine Ian Rogers sound like an advert for Fosters. Jons Mestel and Speelman mumble inaudibly. Gena Sosonko speak in Dutch, but no-one notices.

One thing they all have in common - the position is always "unclear". For this spectators pay two and a half quid.

The press room itself has an interesting cast of inmates. Dmitri Bjelica and Francisco Arrabal spent most of the Opening Ceremony trying to be photographed with the Prime Minister. Afterwards, ego sated, Arrabal became a spectator, but Bjelica continued to occupy centre stage. The self-anointed "Press Attache to Anatoly Karpov" bluffed the organisers into presenting him with a red (sic) badge as a member of the Soviet Delegation. When he was caught fiddling the phones, as usual, the Soviets denied his existence and insisted he wasn't one of theirs. Bjelica then reaffirmed his status as Karpov's personal press attache, but evidently even this was refuted by AK's bodyguard. Now Bjelica sulks, his red badge replaced with one in envy green, ignored by all and sundry. He is not even permitted to use the journalist phones but is restricted to one at a location where, according to a senior member of staff, he can be watched like a hawk. Lothar Karrer arrived and, mercifully, left after a few days.

Grimshaw does not have access to the secretariat where, according to reliable reports, there is a sizeable harem of attractive Canadians. Judging from the examples which occasionally enter the press room, Grimshaw may change professions. The ushers, on the other hand, are led by a woman for whom the word bitch might have been invented. The Security forces are far more pleasant, and are allowing squatters to occupy the entranceway, where a display of the moves is available.

The squat arose not out of pity for the poor sods who cannot afford the outrageous price of ?10 and ?20 (?3 tickets were announced, but are fictional, as far as we can tell). The place is packed for every performance, SRO, and it was easier to get tickets for the "sold-out" musical than for the battle on the chessboard. As an alternative to viewing the match, one can pay ?2.50 for a seat in the commentary room, where foreigners with incomprehensible accents babble on, answering queries from the hoi polloi with an equanimity arising from the inability the understand the questions.

A room is provided for those who wish to ignore the Championship and instead take part in skittles, simultaneous displays, etc. Andrew Whiteley is in charge here, and no doubt has enriched the coffers of his Kings's Head Pub club by signing on many new members.

The players have behaved like perfect communist gentlemen. Not so the London Chess Establishment. Ali Amin, owner of the mediocre and overpriced Chequers Caff, was apoplectic at being left off the organising committee. Not surprising really, since he cancels almost as many events as he stages, and his well-known unreliability would be no asset when it comes to raising sponsorship. The Shriekh has chosen to create a vehicle for his diatribes called Zugswang, and this is distributed at the match free of charge each day. It contains personals attacks on various persons connected with the match, particularly David Goodman, editor of the rival Newsflash, a weekly journal with much higher production values and much more accurate content. Bob Wade , doyen of British Chess, has been soiling his reputation by providing Zugswang with high-quality chess content. No-one knows what spell Mr. Amin (no relation, except in personality) has cast upon him. Also writing for what is now known as "the chess equivalent of the Gutter press" is a Gloria van Slutspool, who has been trying to get into Karpov's pants ever since Kasparov snubbed her. Karpov, like his rival, has more refined tastes. The ocher hack is the spineless Roger Lancaster, who wrote regarding the Israeli's screaming protest about the Dubai Olympiads: "I was not quite convinced that this was the same as their being happy about it, but out of tact and to leave some fertile ground for future interviews, left it at that".

That's enough for now—Grimshaw.