Wow, has anyone read the New Yorker article on Garry Kasparov (written by New Yorker editor, David Remnick)? It's looooong so I'm not done yet but it's fascinating. Read this account of the first Karpov v. Kasparov championship match:
This first Karpov-Kasparov championship match, which began in September, 1984, coincided with my first trip to Moscow, and I attended several games at the Hall of Columns, the stately venue where Stalin had lain in state, thirty-one years earlier. Every morning, the two men entered from the wings and walked to a chess board at center stage. They sat hunched over the pieces for hours at a time, inches from each other, breathing the same overheated air, Karpov staring at his position, Kasparov staring at Karpov, or, at times, clawing at his hair, rolling his eyes, expressing his emotions with the eye-bulging theatricality of a silent-film star. In the balcony, nearly everyone was pro-Kasparov. They loved his anti-establishment glamour, his audacity at the board even when he lost.
Karpov dominated Kasparov in the early games, taking a four-games-to-none lead. He needed only two more wins to retain the title. The crowds began to thin out. Then Kasparov did something astonishing: in the course of a championship match, he learned to play at a new level. In Game 15, a turning point in the match, Karpov was up a pawn but could play only to a draw after an astonishingly long game—ninety-three moves. Kasparov was figuring out Karpov the way an astute hitter, after repeated, chastening strikeouts, figures out a pitcher. The next eleven games were draws. In Game 27, Karpov won once more, but, again, Kasparov kept forestalling the end—twenty more drawn games came and went, brutal and wearing—and then, suddenly, he took Games 47 and 48. It was now February. The score was five games to three, but the advantage had turned. Finally, the tournament authorities called it off, claiming that both players were exhausted. Kasparov was convinced that the chess establishment, backed by the Soviet authorities, had rescued Karpov. He was furious, but he had learned his opponent thoroughly. He had mastered him. The next year, again in Moscow, Kasparov won the title.
This article also made me realize that they are so many cool Russian words, especially political ones, like apparatchik. Kasparov is half Armenian and half Jewish, a great combination. And speaking of Jews....I had a Jewish feast last night. I went to Teremok (which I guess is in Foothill Farms? I'm not sure what neighborhood that is) to try to get chopped liver, and they were out but instead I got dense wheat bread, pickles, and this lovely delight:
It's a whitefish salad and it actually tasted a lot better than it looked. It was potatoes and onions and fish and sour cream (I think). The pink is not frosting, it's beet juice and sour cream. Here was the full spread. I made blini with caviar and sour cream. Blini are really tasty and hearty and fun to make. They are yeasted, so it's fun to watch it rise and bubble, and they have half and half buckwheat flour to regular, so they have a rustic, whole-grain taste.
GW labored over delicious potatoe latkes, the Armeniac made a refreshing cold borscht, and BR MADE this beautiful challah, if you can believe that!
And then we watched a video of Wham live in China (follow this link for some good examples of what a knob Andrew Ridgely is) and I peed my pants when I saw this: