The Cruel Stars of the Night - Kjell Eriksson [84]
Antonov was at that time a celebrity in chess circles, with legendary matches against stars such as the cautious Dutchman Euwe, the antise-mitic Russian Alekhine, and the Cuban, Capablanca, who was the world champion in the twenties and had only lost thirty-five out of almost six hundred matches in major tournaments. Anders had also made a note of several matches against Swedish masters such as Lundin, Ståhlberg, and the uneven Stolz.
The Basque player, Urberuaga, was, however, relatively unknown but immediately received attention as the one who, although he had not perhaps been able to shake the great Russian, had nonetheless made a little history.
Ander had also attached a short biography of the Basque. Lindell was at first irritated over the extensive nature of the report but soon found herself drawn into Urberuaga’s later fate. How he enlisted in the republican army, taking part in the struggles in Teruel and Belchite, was wounded on two occasions, and then fled together with a hundred thousand others to France when Franco’s troops surrounded Barcelona. There he ended up in a camp, escaped, and participated in the underground resistance against the Nazis during World War II, fled once more, and eventually ended up in Mexico where he lived until his death in 1966.
In Jalapa he started a chess club that got the name “No pasarán,” apparently a battle cry during the civil war, and he frequently took part in tournaments, even internationally.
“A pretty decent player,” Ander commented. “Uneven in both his temperament and his strategy, and who with time developed severe alcoholism.”
Antonov’s fate was even worse. When he returned to the Soviet Union he was immediately imprisoned. The list of accusations included spying as well as traitorous activity. In all likelihood he died in a camp somewhere beyond the Ural. Whether he had had the opportunity to play chess in the camp was not known.
The next part of the report dealt with the literature available on the subject. There was a list of eight titles. “There are probably many more,” Ander wrote, “but it is these that are somewhat known in Sweden. To this one should add a large number of print articles and information on the Internet.”
Lindell sighed, eyed the list, and continued with part three of Ander’s report, the part that described the actual match: “The Basque was black and Antonov white. The beginning was not sensational. At the midpoint, black’s center was weakened and he almost landed in a forced-move situation, but defended himself decently with the sacrifice of a pawn. Antonov believed himself to be secure and saw Urberuaga’s weakness as a sign of fatigue, possibly thinning patience, and he moved the queen to De8 followed by several quick moves that also increased white’s position. The Basque lost yet another pawn. Two surprising and poisonous moves by Antonov, whereupon black reflected for a long time, countering but thereafter losing a knight. Normally this match could only have gone in one direction but Urberuaga astonished everyone, including the Russian, with a three-move combination that threatened the white queen. Slowly but surely Antonov came to realize that what he had taken for weakness had been an extremely clever trap. White lost the queen. It had cost him some pieces but in one stroke black immediately emerged much stronger.”
Good god what nerds, Lindell thought and read on.
“In spite of this, white eventually came out the winner and thereby the Barcelona exhibition match was the display of a youthful drive to shine but also of the older man’s (Antonov was thirty-six)