His Next Move

Video

At the Chess Tournament

Highschool freshman Marte Garner competed May 17, 2008 in the 'Bum Rush the Boards' chess tournament, designed to promote the idea of strategic struggle to the hip-hop generation.

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"If they keep talking, you say, 'Shut up! I'm trying to focus right now,' " says Jamal.

"I'm going to have my headphones on anyway," says Marte, confidently. "I have my strategy. Four moves, and they are out. People will tell you you can't win. But you can tell yourself in your head you can beat them."

* * *

Saturday finally arrives.

Despite oversleeping, Marte arrives early for "Bum Rush the Boards," as the tournament is called, at Lincoln Middle School in Northwest. He sits in the tournament's intermediate section, facing his opponent, a 10-year-old fourth-grader from another part of town. They shake hands. Then the moves are on.

Quickly, each player advances a pawn. The younger boy is playing with confidence. Marte pauses, bites his finger. Bites his lip. He moves his knight. The other kid moves a pawn. Marte adjusts the volume on his iPod, drowning out the noise, drowning out the pressure.

Marte recognizes his own four-move strategy. His opponent has just used it. "Man, he used my moves on me," Marte thinks to himself, as he described it later. He adjusts his iPod. He will have to adjust his strategy.

Marte moves his queen to trap the opposing king. "Checkmate," he declares. And the two shake hands and walk down the hall to report their game.

Marte spins a big blue balloon while waiting for Round 2. As the balloon twirls and floats, he's immersed in thought -- a pawn holding up a dream.

Marte meets a sixth-grader when the games resume. He uses his four-move strategy and wins again. In Round 3, he quickly loses. But he is smiling. "It was a good game," he says.

In the final round, after three moves, he checkmates his opponent with his queen. He raises his hands in victory. He lost only one piece. This game is over.

Or is it?

He sits in a stairway at the school. The evening sun pours through the glass above him. He recounts the games, the moves. He smiles at his victories. He didn't lose too many pieces. Nor was he captured. And yet he is vulnerable. He feels it.

"I'm happy, but in another way I'm not happy. I still don't have a father," Marte says sadly. "I think he was killed -- I can't remember the street -- it was somewhere by Pennsylvania Avenue, I think. Somewhere. He was 21. Wait." He counts to himself. "He was 19. I think he was 19."

There are some pieces that are taken that don't come back, can't be set straight with the next move, the next game. Did his father ever play chess? If he had, would he have known what move to make to avoid a fatal capture? To be among the last pieces standing?