Lord Of The Finca
Eliezar is also an exceptionally keen chess player. And as I discovered first-hand, he is as shrewd and devious as he is intelligent, showing next to no sportsmanship when it comes to the game. In a sly effort to distract his opponent, his erratic gesticulations become wilder, and his inane articulation more frequent, with added predictive commentary.
“You gotta go with the flow, man. Don't think, feel! Just play, man. Ah, the horse, huh? Tha’s clever, my friend. But now I go here and take your horse, and so you come and take me. Come on, less go, you know it! Make your move man. Pawn to bishop, pawn to bishop!”
And whilst he was carrying on, I kept my eyes down and ears deaf, and took his queen.
“Oh,” he said, and turned to his large friend: “The son of a bitch ate my queen! He ate my queen. You ate my queen. Puta!”
Apparently his father had been chess champion of Central America and Eliezar himself was known to have lost only one game. He went into animated overdrive. His arms gyrated about his sides, as if attached to the wheels of an out-of-control steam-train, broken only by the loud clapping of his hands in front of our faces.
“Have another drink, my man,” he suggested between turns, “Loosen up! The game's yours! Tha’s cool!" And so on, until he moved his knight to challenge my queen. “Take him, man. Go on! Take him or be taken. Tha’s right, queen to horse. Don't be afraid!”
Reluctantly I did. And before my hand had reached my side, I was slapping my forehead.
“Shit!” - I’d been duped.
