I had learned to play chess from my grandfather and, by the time 1972 came around, I was well into competitions.
I spent a good share of my youth in the summers in the West, Montana and Wyoming. Let’s just say that in 1972 there was one conduit of information about The Match: the newspaper. I would nearly quiver myself into an alternative metauniverse waiting for the days’ notation.
TODAY… the match began. HERE
Fifty years ago.