Reykjavík Grapevine - 08.04.2005, Page 46

July 14th, 1972, Hotel Loftleiðir.
1 am.
Sæmundur: Oh, Bobby, look at the
mess you made.
Bobby: Yes. I’m a genius.
Sæmundur: But was it necessary to
do that to my favourite ascot?
Bobby: Don’t dare to guess my ways.
Sæmundur: Of course not. You’re a
great man.
Bobby: I was thinking about that. I
wonder if there is an irony that I will
be remembered for being the great
American chess player, despite the
fact that I basically revile American
principles. Were I simply another
great Russian player, few people
would bat an eyelash.
Sæmundur: Yes, bats. That’s funny.
Bobby: Are you changing your
clothes again?
Sæmundur: I like to wear new
clothes.
Bobby: Well stop it. You look like an
overweight Tony Randall in the Odd
Couple.
Sæmundur: I like the Odd Couple.
You’re funny and smart.
Bobby: Yes, I am extremely amusing.
Want to hear my joke about women
chess players.
Sæmundur: Ha ha.
Bobby: I haven’t told it yet. Damn it,
stop combing your hair. Here’s the
joke: women are stupid compared to
men. Ha. Get it. I told that to Ralph
Ginzburg at Harpers, and he didn’t
get it at all.
Sæmundur: I like Ralph Ginzburg.
Is it true that you want a house
shaped like a rook?
Bobby: Actually, I’d like a house
shaped like a bishop. And I want the
roof to be pink. It’s part of my love
of chess. I’ve always been misquoted.
Sæmundur: Yes, I would like to see
your bishop house. Would you like
to tell me more about the time you
gave your money to a fourth-rate
cult?
Bobby: No. I am very stressed Sæmi.
I’d like to sit here and stew in my
own hate for a few minutes.
Sæmundur: I understand.
(Thirty minutes later.)
Sæmundur: Bobby?
Bobby: Yes Sæmi.
Sæmundur: When I am stressed, I
find something I like to do, to take
my mind off of things.
Bobby: You are an imbecile. Why
would I care?
Sæmundur: Sorry, Bobby.
(Thirty minutes later.)
Bobby: What is it? What do you do?
Sæmundur: This is a little
embarrassing. But actually, what I do
is I dance. I’m a dancer.
Bobby: I don’t dance. I can’t be
bothered.
Sæmundur: Sorry, that was stupid
of me.
(Thirty minutes later)
Bobby: I’m very stressed. Maybe
you can show me something. How
relaxing is it?
Sæmundur: Very relaxing. I mean,
there are different types of music.
I like rock music, but you have to
dance slow, too. Here.
(Puts on “Unchained Melody”)
Sæmundur: Okay, well I’m bigger
than you, so I’ll lead. You just put
your hand right here.
Bobby: Here. Oh how foolish of me.
I feel so silly.
Sæmundur: Relax, Bobby. Just let
the music take your hips. Excellent.
There you are.
Bobby: This is great fun. This is
great fun. I am so sorry that only a
few minutes ago I was contemplating
ways to hate you and everyone
related to you.
Sæmundur: You see. Just relax and
listen to the music.
Bobby: Thank you Sæmundur. You
know, I really feel much better. I’m
going to win tomorrow. I’m going
to knock Spassky’s socks off. And
then I’m going to go out and insult
a lot of people, and make all sorts of
horrible decisions.
Sæmundur: That sounds great,
Bobby. That sounds great. We’ll be
friends for life.
Bobby: Yes, Sæmi. Friends for life.
If you too have an interpretation
of how Bobby and Sæmi became
friends for life, email us at
grapevine@grapevine.is. We’ll post
our favourites on our website.
FRIENDS
FOR LIFE
In July 1972, Bobby
Fischer was on the verge of
greatness, defeating world
champion Boris Spassky in an
unforgettable manner. His
bodyguard was Sæmundur
Pálsson, a former amateur
dancer and cop. Fischer
reportedly loathed Iceland
and had no regard for the
local chess association, which
he claimed was under the
influence of communists,
but he did come to like his
bodyguard. Three decades
later, the lifelong friendship
those two struck up has gotten
Bobby Fisher out of jail,
and has rewritten Iceland’s
reputation.
Here, the Grapevine
speculates as to what might
have happened to form such a
friendship. BC