On the phone that night, Marvin and Priscilla talked about events.

"You did the right thing, dear, by winning your game. Don't get caught up in whatever's going on. You're better than that," Priscilla said.

"Uh, yeah, but I'm kinda scared," Marvin replied, "I mean ... I like just got outta the hospital and stuff."

"I once heard someone say that the definition of 'courage' is being afraid and still doing the right thing. That's you, Marvin ... you have courage. And don't worry, I can hire a security detail to look after you if you wish."

"Nah," Marvin said, "I don't think the mob or whoever it is would try the same stunt twice. Kinda too obvious."

"Maybe, maybe not. But you're my husband and I'll be the one to decide if you need a security team."

"More like my boss," Marvin muttered, although, perhaps for the best, Priscilla didn't hear him.

# # #

Marvin won his game the next night and the Doublejumpers swept the series as the oddsmakers had predicted. The team had a day off after coming home, before their next series with the Baltimore Breeches.

The off day, though, merely meant that the Doublejumpers didn't plan an evening match. There was still afternoon practice; Coach Baba Dudut didn't believe in the team having too much leisure and ran drills and scrimmages at every opportunity. It was towards the end of practice that Coach asked Marvin to come to his office.

"Sit down," Coach said as Marvin entered, indicating a chair on the opposite side of Coach's desk. Coach's tone was noticeably less sharp with Marvin than usual, and Marvin picked up on it right away.

Somewhat surprised, Marvin took the proferred seat. "Wassup, Coach?" he asked cautiously.

"Oh, I just wanted to go over something with you, is all," Coach said.

"Uh, sure ... " Marvin answered.

"Well, you see, you've been telling me some kind of odd things that you've observed, and you also told me about this supposed visit from Cliff Arachnida, the National Checker League Deputy Commissioner."

"It ain't 'supposed', Coach, he really did ... "

"Oh, sure, sure I believe you. Certainly I do. It's just a little ... oh, never mind, let's just say 'disturbing' is all."

"You ain't kiddin'," Marvin said.

"Well, you also mentioned some issues with fifth board substitutions and lost matches. Now, I don't let players question my decisions or put me in a bad light. But I will admit to a couple of surprises in those matches. And then you mentioned a couple of other similar things happening around the league."

"Just tryin' to bring stuff up, Coach, when, you know ... "

"Oh I get it, Marvin," Coach interrupted, "but I had to think for a while. It's really easy to get paranoid and jump to conclusions. A lot of trouble can come from false accusations."

Marvin sat upright. "I ain't accusin' nobody of nothin'," he said, "but I sorta thought I oughta tell you and stuff ... "

"Yes, yes, I get it ... and 'stuff'," Coach said, "and I think we can do something about it, without you risking another attack."

Now, Coach had never said or even suggested that the attack on Marvin had anything to do with the strange events in the NCL and on the Doublejumper team. But after the visit from Cliff, who said Marvin won too much, and Coach's reaction saying Marvin needed to look out for himself and maybe not win the second game against Kansas City, the conclusion was obvious ... Coach was definitely connecting the dots for Marvin, even if unintentionally.

"So anyhow," Coach went on, "after you won that game that you were, um, advised to lose, at least according to your story, I wondered just how safe you were ... assuming everything you said is true, which I've taken as a working assumption, at least until I learn otherwise."

If this is a vote of confidence, Marvin thought, it's a pretty weak one. But before Marvin could say anything, Coach continued, "Anyhow, I've taken some action."

"Action?"

"Right. I've been in touch with the FBI to alert them to a possible connection among all these events. Now, the Detroit police didn't get anywhere with your assault and they've already moved on, without trying to put two and two together. But the FBI is quite interested. So I've set up a meeting with them."

"You're going to meet with them?"

"No, Marvin, you are. You can give them the whole story and let them ask questions. I think it's the best way to get to the bottom of this."

Coach steepled his fingers, paused for a moment, and looked Marvin straight in the eyes.

"Unless, of course, you want to change your story." Coach smiled. The smile was neither warm nor friendly.

"No, I ain't gonna change nothing," Marvin said, clearly on the verge of anger. "I told the truth and that's the honest truth--- I mean, about telling the truth."

"And stuff," Coach concluded. "Well, look, given events, you might be at risk. Maybe one of the mobs is involved and is keeping an eye on you. If they saw you go to the FBI offices they might want to ... shall we say ... put a stop to anything further, if you get my meaning."

Marvin did. "So what then?" he asked.

"There's a place outside of town where you're to meet. It will look like you just went for a drive in the country and stopped at an inn for ... well, a beer or something."

"But I don't drink and drive."

Coach looked annoyed. "Okay then, you stopped for a glass of milk and some warm cookies. Whatever. Now, will you do it or will you chicken out at this late stage? Or have you been lying all along?"

Now Marvin was angry again. He stood up. "I ain't no chicken and I ain't no liar," he said forcefully, "and you might be the Coach and stuff but you ain't got no right to say it. Yeah, I'll do it. Lemme know the details."

Marvin turned to go but Coach said, "Hold on there, Marvey-Boy." He took a sheet of paper from his desk and held it out. "Take this. Full instructions. You go after tomorrow night's game."

# # #

Before going home, Marvin read over Coach's instructions. He was to go to a tavern some 20 miles outside of Detroit, out in the country, immediately after his game in the match with Boston, which would probably end by about 10 PM. He was expected at the tavern around 11, where an FBI team would meet with him.

"Should be okay," Marvin thought, but he decided to discuss it with Priscilla when he got home.

Priscilla was also a little unsure, but said, "I think you should go ahead with it. Coach wouldn't set you up with the FBI unless he wanted to see this through."

Now, Marvin and Priscilla knew each other quite well, and Marvin detected something in Priscilla's voice and phrasing. He just couldn't quite put his finger on it, but there was more to what she was saying than she actually let on.

"All right, then," Marvin said, and the discussion ended much more quickly than he had expected it would.

# # #

The next evening came around. Marvin, on first board, was to play the Boston star Billy "Baked Beans" Benjamin. The game began but Marvin, thinking of what lay ahead that night, had some trouble focusing.

The game reached the following position, with Marvin to play. Marvin, not doing so well this evening, was a piece down but might be able to find a draw.

Marvin glanced at his watch. It was already nearly 10 PM. He would have to wrap this up and get going.

So, he quickly made his move.

---

Marvin has a lot on his mind; hopefully you are not yourself in anything like the kind of situation he finds himself in. Then you can focus on the position and see if you can pull off a draw. Give it a try, then click on Read More for the rest of this month's installment and the solution to the problem.

[Read More]

Summer in North Dakota is brief and as we've often mentioned, many indoor activities cease during the months of June, July, and August. From Memorial Day to Labor Day, the focus is on tending yards, going camping or fishing, taking a vacation, and for the most part indulging in outdoor activities.

(Of course, there were the frequent thunderstorms, the very hot days in July and August, the mosquitoes ... but as we said, summer is brief and meant to be enjoyed.)

Sal Westerman's Coffee and Cake Checker Club also went on summer vacation. Sal missed the Saturday afternoon gatherings at the Beacon Cafe, where he and the "boys" (all but one of whom were well over 50 years of age) would gather to drink coffee, enjoy baked treats, talk checkers, solve problems, and play informal skittles games. Sal was not a great outdoors type; he hired someone to take care of his yard (which in local terms would just about be a crime were he not over 70 years old), and although he and his wife Sylvia spent a couple of weeks at a lake cabin, Sal preferred the comforts of home and his basement study, surrounded by his checker books and magazines.

Sure, he'd go for walks in the cooler times of the day and frequent the many local parks. But checkers was his great love; and this summer he had something special in mind.

At the last seasonal meeting of the Club, on the Saturday before Labor Day, Sal hinted at a special summer project, but even when prompted wouldn't say anything about it. He told his wife Sylvia, of course, but she simply replied, "Yes, dear, whatever makes you happy" and returned to her homemaker's magazines.

But now that June had come, Sal felt it was time to get started in earnest. For a week, he followed a routine of having an early breakfast, working in his study for a couple of hours, taking a short nap after lunch, and working a little more in the afternoon.

Finally his wife became curious. She of course supported Sal in his interests, as he supported her, but normally she would just let him go his own way. But now she wondered about the much above normal amount of time Sal was spending in his study.

"Dear," she said, "you've been down in the basement quite a lot this last week or so. Are you sure that's good for you? You barely even read the newspaper at breakfast you're in such a rush. Shouldn't you be getting a little more fresh air and exercise? I'm a bit worried about your health."

"I know, sweetheart," Sal said, "but I'm working on that special project I told you about."

Sylvia hesitated a moment. "I remember you saying something about it," she said, "but I don't quite recall. Is it really so important and urgent?"

"In a way," Sal said. "I need to have things ready by July when we go to the lake for vacation."

"Why is that?"

"Well, we'll be having a visitor. Or at least that's the idea."

"A visitor? Usually it's just the two of us ... "

"Oh, just for a day or two," Sal said, "and he's coming all the way from Pennsylvania on the train, on his way to the West Coast. It's my good checker pen pal, Young Ed."

"That's nice dear, and I don't mind us having a visitor who's a good friend, but what has that to do with your hours and hours in the basement?"

"You know Ed is a master problem composer, right?"

"If you say so, dear, then I'm sure he is."

"Yes, he is indeed, and he sends me checker problems from time to time. I take them to the Club for the boys to solve ... "

"Oh, right, you've told me about that and about who buys the treats and so on."

(The custom was for Sal to present a problem to the boys, who would buy the treats for Sal and is wife if they couldn't solve it; but if they could, Sal would buy the treats.)

"So, Ed and I corresponded, and we got the idea of maybe making a book out of the best of some of his checker problems. Only Ed didn't know a lot about making books so I said I'd help," said Sal.

"How nice of you, dear," Sylvia said.

"So I've been going through my notes and some magazines ... actually quite a few notes and magazines ... and I want to have a selection ready, and a first draft of the book as well, when Ed arrives. Then we can go over everything and get the book in shape for printing."

"Isn't that a lot of work? And expense?" Sylvia asked.

"Well, er ... yes," Sal said, "but we'll just print the book on a mimeograph to start, and sell it at just over cost. If we raise enough money that way we can take it to a regular printer."

"Fine, dear, whatever makes you happy," replied Sylvia, and turned back to her own magazines. The matter was settled.

Sal took the opportunity to quietly slip down the stairs and continue work on his special summer project.

---

As regular readers know, The Checker Maven has published a number of problems by the late grandmaster problemist Ed Atkinson. The problem below is one of the last in our stock. We are ourselves contemplating a special project to publish a booklet containing some of Ed's work. There are a number of complications in so doing, but we will continue to pursue the idea. We would like to get in touch with Mr. Atkinson's heirs, but we have no information at all about who they may be or where they might be found. If any of our readers can help, we would appreciate hearing from you at editor@checkermaven.com.

---

And now, here is one of Ed's compositions. He called it Head Bumper.

Enjoy solving and then click on Read More when you're ready to check your solution.

[Read More]

Editor's Note: Ed Gilbert pointed out a flaw in the original setting. Here's a corrected version.

There's theory and there's practice. The electrician shown working above is applying practical knowledge no doubt mostly obtained through study and experience. A similar concept applies to our game of checkers. We need to learn the theory but in the end, practical application is what wins or saves games for us, and the more experience we have, the better.

In the diagram below, credited to regular contributors Lloyd and "Gosh Josh" Gordon, White is a piece up but Black can achieve a draw--- with careful play.

Now, being something in the nature of a speed problem, the draw is neither difficult nor sophisticated.

Experienced players will have little trouble; improving players may take a bit longer, but either way, it's a nice little workout. Give it a practical try and then take the practical step of clicking on Read More to see the solution.

[Read More]

The 2025 Vidor Checker Festival was one of the biggest events in the history of the game, and Watson Franks and his crew is out to top that in 2026. The lineup, as shown in the poster above, is nothing short of amazing; and the Celebration will fittingly encompass America's 250th birthday.

Don't miss out. Be a part of checker history in the making. Go to Vidor. Meet up with world class players (or maybe you are one yourself!). Compete for big prizes. Swap stories. Enjoy great food and hospitality. And be sure to shake hands with Watson and the team and give them a kind word of thanks!

For more info, contact watpics@aol.com.

Tommy Wagner was finishing up his sophomore (2nd) year at a large high school in central Florida. Recall that from our last story, Tommy's coach, Coach Schann, had moved him up to fifth board on the Varsity Checker squad's first team. His performance had been solid, and with summer coming up, it wouldn't be long until fall tryouts. As a junior (3rd year), Tommy would like to be able to move up a board or two.

He had good chances. The top three players, a titled Master and two Experts, were graduating. But still the competition would be tough. The fourth board player was also an Expert. Tommy had reached Class A but there were three other Class A players on the second team and they too were wanting to move up.

There was just one little problem: Tommy was tired. He had worked hard all through the school year, not just on checkers but on his schoolwork, and had turned in a series of straight A report cards, earning top marks in nearly every one of his classes.

But he wanted some time off. He wanted to go fishing and ride his bicycle and sleep late in the morning. He wanted to sit out in the shade and read some science fiction. And he wanted to make another attempt at reconciling with his former girlfriend Tina--- or lacking that, find a new one.

He didn't want to study checkers every morning and evening. He didn't want to work as a checker coach at summer camp. And sad to say, he didn't want to go for lessons with Uncle Ben every Saturday morning.

Uncle Ben was a retired checker professional who had had a storied career and had written many well received checker instruction books. He took on a small number of students, generously giving his time for free to promising candidates. Tommy was his star pupil and the two of them had built a close relationship. Although Ben wasn't really Tommy's uncle, Tommy saw him as one.

But Tommy wanted a few weeks, maybe even a month, of pure leisure.

Tommy's mom wasn't too happy about this. "You need to talk to Uncle Ben," she said, "he's been very good to you and you really shouldn't let him down."

"Okay, Mom, I will, but gee ... "

His mom interrupted. "No more, Tommy. We'll talk about this after you've talked with Uncle Ben.

So when Saturday came around, Tommy didn't skip down the sidewalk in anticipation as he usually did when on his way to Uncle Ben's porch, where he knew a fresh pitcher of lemonade would be waiting along with lots of checker material to learn.

Tommy arrived at Uncle Ben's and pretty much dragged himself up the steps of the front porch. Uncle Ben, of course, couldn't help but notice.

"Let's have some lemonade and talk a little," Uncle Ben said in a calm voice. "We don't need to rush to get into our lesson this morning. Help yourself!" Uncle Ben indicated the icy cold pitcher. "Please pour me a glass, too."

Tommy did as he was asked. He had to admit that the lemonade looked and smelled as wonderful as always. When he had handed Uncle Ben his glass and took a seat with his own, Tommy said, "I bet my Mom called you."

"Actually, she didn't," Uncle Ben said, "but it's obvious that's something is ailing you and I know what it is."

"Really?" replied Tommy. "But how could you ... "

"Tommy, I'm an old fellow and I've seen a lot in my days. You've got a case of checker fatigue, pure and simple. It happens to all of us sometimes. Even to me."

"To you, Uncle Ben?" Tommy said incredulously.

"Yes, and more than once. The first time was in college and the second time was when I moved up from AAA checkers to the Majors. I should have been excited and thrilled, and I guess I was, but I had put in so much effort I didn't know if I had anything left to give."

"I kind of feel that way too," Tommy said. "I really think I've worked hard and now it's time to move up, but that means working even harder. And then working still harder after that to do well for the team."

"You're right," Uncle Ben said, "there is a lifetime of work ahead of you."

"What did you do when you felt that way, Uncle Ben?"

"What I did, Tommy, was to take a look back, and took the time to realize hard work had brought me a long way. But I also recognized that things go along one step at a time, and instead of thinking I was facing endless years of work, I focused on the one thing that came next. In the college case, it was making it into the pro ranks. Never mind about A or AAA or the Majors; the first thing was just to get in. And then later when I did hit the Big Show, it was just, let's win the next match. Not, let's win every match this season, but just the next one, one at a time. And ... I also made sure I got some rest during the off-season."

"How did you do that?"

"I took off the first two weeks after the season ended and didn't even think about checkers. I visited home, I went to a few shows, I slept late a few times ... kind of like you're thinking about doing."

"Yes ... but ... don't you want me to continue working hard?"

"Of course I do, Tommy. But I can tell when someone needs a break, too. Now, you've got over ten weeks until the fall tryouts. I'll show you some material today and give you some to take home with you. But I want you to take two weeks off to ride your bike and go hiking and all the things you want to do. However, after those two weeks it will be time to get back to work. And I think you'll be more than ready to do so. In fact, you'll want to get back to work."

Tommy once again thought about what a wise man Uncle Ben was and how lucky he was to have him as a mentor. "Sounds great, Uncle Ben!" he said with renewed cheer.

"All right then, young man, let's look at a problem that involves the notion of a pitch."

Uncle Ben pointed to a position he had set up on an adjacent checkerboard.

"I'll pour us a little more lemonade while you work this one out."

Tommy smiled and set to work.

---

Yes, we all need a break at times, and if we've been working intensely at it for a long while, perhaps even a break from checkers. But let's hold off on that and solve today's problem. Match wits with Tommy and then click on Read More to see the solution, the brief conclusion of our story, a sample game, and no less than 21 additional examples.

[Read More]

On Memorial Day we give honor to those who made the ultimate sacrifice and recognize all who served. The world is not a peaceful place, unfortunately, and there are others who would happily take away our freedoms and impose their will. This weekend The Checker Maven extends its appreciation to those who day in and day out have protected and continue to protect our way of life even at great personal cost.

Our own observations have been that many checker players tend to the patriotic side and here at The Checker Maven it's no different. We've often said that we are unapologetic patriots. Times have been difficult lately; we won't say more than that but we do not waver from the idea of patriotism as wanting what's best for one's country, and if things are not as they should be, we work to make them better.

We've also frequently said that a checkerist who was a true patriot was Tom Wiswell, who served in the Army during World War II. So let's look at something of his. It's from a game he played once upon a time against James Ricca. Mr. Wiswell had White and was to play and draw.

The solution to this one is fairly long and will require thought, but the situation is a practical one. Give it your best and then click on Read More to see the solution.

[Read More]

It was the next to last Saturday in May, and with Memorial Day weekend coming up the following week, this was the last meeting of the season for the Coffee and Cake Checker Club, led by Sal Westerman. The Club met Saturdays at the Beacon Cafe in Bismarck, North Dakota, from just after Labor Day until just before Memorial Day, with breaks only for the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays. Summers in North Dakota were very brief and the focus was almost exclusively on outdoor activities.

As usual for a season closeout, turnout was good. In addition to Sal there were Louie the Flash, Larry (also known as Sam), Delmer, Mike, Wayne, Dan, Young Blaine (the only member under 50 years of age), as well as Ron and Old Frank. The group overflowed into a second large booth at the back of the Cafe.

Also as usual for a season closeout, initial discussion focused on summer plans. Louie the Flash said he was taking a trip to the Pacific Northwest with his girlfriend Hortense. He said he and Hortense had been together for a little over two months now, which as Larry observed, was something of a record for Louie.

Larry in turn was going to Florida to visit family. Wayne would spend some time on the family farm up in Wilton, helping his kids with farm work. Delmer, Dan, and Mike didn't have particular plans beyond weekends camping at a lake spot. Young Blaine was going backpacking in Colorado with his wife, Moira, to celebrate their first anniversary.

Ron was going to visit relatives in South Dakota, while Old Frank spent every summer working intensely on his dollhouse business, as demand during the holiday season was increasing year by year.

But when it came Sal's turn, he was uncharacteristically quiet. "I've got something I'd like to work on," was all he said, and no amount of prodding, teasing, or pleading could get him to say anything more than that. (Regular Checker Maven readers will learn more about this next month.)

Sal finally said, "Enough summer talk; let's get down to checkers and make the most of our time. I've got a nice little problem for you to work on."

Deana Nagel, the proprietess of the Beacon Cafe and a blue ribbon baker, was of course listening to every word, and with perfect timing called out from behind her counter, "Fresh strawberry rhubarb pie today!"

The idea was that the "boys" as Sal called them, would try to solve his weekly problem. If they could win it, Sal bought the treats for all. If they couldn't, the boys would buy for Sal as well as an extra serving for Sal to take home to his wife, Sylvia.

Sal laid out the following position on one board at each table, and announced that solving time would be limited to 45 minutes. But the boys, already deeply engrossed, barely heard him.

---

The Checker Maven doesn't pause for summer or holidays, and our columns will continue as always. But can you meet Sal's challenge, and earn yourself some strawberry rhubarb pie (which, alas, you will have to supply for yourself)? See how you do and then click on Read More to see the solution and the brief conclusion of our story.

[Read More]

Marvin lay unconscious in a hospital bed, with bandages and casts all over his body, including most of his face. An IV drip was in each arm.

Priscilla tried to get herself back under control. But the sight of Marvin in the condition he was in was a lot for her to process.

"I told you," Dr. Walters admonished, in a voice that could have been a little more friendly than it actually was. "He's going to be okay, but he was badly hurt and it shows."

"I ... I see that ... ", Priscilla stammered. "Can I talk to him?"

"We're keeping him sedated. Meanwhile, though, there's this detective waiting to talk to you. Perhaps you could do that first and maybe you'll be able to talk to your husband in the morning."

"Uh, okay."

"This way, Ms. Snelson," said the doctor.

A squat man in a rumpled suit was sitting in the waiting room. "I'm Detective Nero Lyon," he said, offering a hand. Priscilla gave it a perfunctory shake. "I've got a couple of questions if you don't mind."

Priscilla took a seat and the detective began, "Quite a beating your husband took," he said, "and he was found under a bridge where he was evidently dumped. Nothing was taken from him, so it wasn't a robbery. So it looks like some sort of mob action. They didn't kill him but they made it as close as possible, like they were sending a message. You know anything about it?"

"Mob action? What would I know about that?"

"Your husband have gambling debts? Maybe loans from loan sharks?"

"Marvin makes $10 million a year. I make five times that, and more with bonuses ... "

The detective showed signs of impatience. "Look, lady, just because you're some kind of hot-shot executive and he's some kind of hot-shot sports guy, that don't mean you don't got no debts. I seen a lot of stuff in my day and there ain't nothing that would surprise me. So just answer the question, okay?"

In the back of her mind, Priscilla wondered why the detective's English had suddenly dropped a few levels of education. "No," she said, "we ain't got no debts or nothing."

"You makin' fun a me? Ah, whaddya expect. Look here, if you think of anything give me a call." The detective handed over a copy of his business card. "I ain't got no more time to waste here."

Marvin was in the hospital for a few days, but he seemed to recover quickly. Meanwhile, a police investigation turned up nothing. A couple of people thought they saw a car in front of Marvin's dive bar, but they couldn't provide any details and there were seemingly no witnesses at the bridge under which Marvin had been dumped. Priscilla thought the investigation was rather perfunctory, and her efforts to get more information from the police ran up against a wall, even when she had her lawyers start making calls.

On the night before Marvin was due to be sent home from the hospital, and just after Priscilla had stopped by for a quick visit, another visitor entered Marvin's room. It was definitely someone known to Marvin.

"Commissioner!" Marvin exclaimed. "Oh, I mean, like, you know, Deputy Commissioner."

Indeed the person who had just come into the room was none other than Cliff Arachnida, who was in fact Deputy Commissioner of the National Checker League.

"How you doing, Marv, old boy?" Cliff asked. "Heard you met up with a kind of mishap."

"I"m gettin' better," said Marvin. "Goin' home tomorrow though they ain't gonna let me play for a few more days."

"A shame," Cliff said. "Look, I just wanted to drop by and tell you that everyone at NCL HQ is thinking of you."

"Real nice of them," said Marvin.

Cliff took a seat in one of the visitor chairs at the side of the room. He scooted it up to Marvin's bed and leaned forward with his hands on the bed's railing. "Well, see, Marvin, there's one other thing. I heard about that story that lady in New York wrote after she talked to you. Shame what happened to her, though. Everyone said she was one of the best investigative reporters in the city."

Marvin suddenly looked alert. "What are you gettin' at?" he asked, his tone sharp.

"Oh, now, relax, Marvin, it's just that--- well, see, it occurred to me that maybe somebody is trying to tell you something."

Marvin, who had already thought that Carol Catchem's "accident" and his beating were too much of a coincidence to be a coincidence, didn't reply.

"I heard the police suspect one of the mobs was involved," Cliff continued. "Pretty serious people, those mobsters."

"How did you know ... " Marvin was sure the newspapers hadn't mentioned the mob in reporting the incident.

"Oh, well," Cliff said, "I'm supposed to know things. That's how I help everyone out, including you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. So you say you'll be out for a couple of days yet?"

"Yeah ... "

"So then you'll be back in time for the Doublejumpers road series with the Kansas City Kelsos."

"Sure, but ... "

"Now, here's the deal. You're good, really good, and you win a lot, right?"

"That's what I'm supposed to do," Marvin replied. "Play to win, score for the team and stuff."

"Maybe you win a little too often. Now, keeping in mind the message the mob boys delivered to you--- in person--- you might want to win a little less. Specifically in the second game of that Kelso series. And you for sure you might want to stay away from reporters, cops, and so on. You get the drift, I'm sure."

Marvin looked shocked. "Are you tellin' me to throw a game?"

Cliff raised a finger to his lips. "Ssh ... too loud. I'm not telling you anything except how it could just happen that you lose in the second match of the series. Of course, you might win, but of course ... well, anything might happen afterwards. Now, I need to get going; I've got a plane to catch back to headquarters in Ohio. Let's not meet again, shall we? Just stay on the path and we won't need to. And neither will you need to meet up with--- certain others."

Before Marvin could say anything, Cliff had left the room.

Marvin didn't know what to do. The threat was clear, and his suspicions that something wasn't right in the NCL seemed to be confirmed.

Marvin went home the next morning and would convalesce for a couple of days before rejoining the team and flying to Kansas City. That evening, he mentioned Cliff's visit to Priscilla, who was as shocked as Marvin. She too, had not thought the death of Carol Catchem and Marvin's assault by thugs was just a coincidence.

"Should I talk to Coach?" Marvin asked. "When I talked to him before he didn't wanna listen, and then there's all that stuff with bringin' in subs who were scrubs and lost matches for us."

Priscilla thought for a little while. "I'd say it's your duty to tell Coach. I'm sure somewhere there's a player rule about reporting attempts to influence games. Coach may have been doing some odd things, but we don't know more than that, really. Coach has never had much of a liking for you so maybe that's all there is to it."

"I 'spose," Marvin said, "but I ain't really so sure. Okay, lemme try."

Marvin didn't get a chance to speak privately with Coach Baba Dudut until after the team's arrival in Kansas City.

Marvin caught up with Coach in the hotel lobby. "Coach, I gotta talk to you."

"What do you want?" Coach seemed quite impatient. "I have strategy to plan for tomorrow's match and I don't have time to spare."

"Over here, okay," Marvin said, grasping Coach's arm and pulling him toward a quiet corner of the lobby. Coach somewhat angrily pulled his arm away. "This better be good," he growled.

Marvin quickly explained the visit from Cliff and what Cliff had said. Coach didn't bat an eye. When Marvin had finished, Coach said, "Quite a story, Marvin. I wouldn't believe it except you have no reason to lie. Well, you do whatever you want. It's your affair. But I'll tell you this, if I were you, I'd think about whether I wanted to win that game in the second match. You already had bad things happen to you once."

At that Coach walked away, unwilling to listen to Marvin any further.

Marvin, once again, was stunned. Things were possibly much worse than he would have imagined.

The Doublejumpers won the first match in the series and Marvin, playing first board against Kansas City's Billy "BBQ" Benson, won his own game without too much difficulty.

But it was now the next day and time for the second match. And Marvin had a decision to make.

Except, that decision came easily to him. Marvin might have his faults but dishonesty was certainly not one of them. The game began and after a little while reached the following position with Marvin to move.

Marvin knew he could easily play a bad move and lose, and avoid--- whatever might be coming his way.

"Nah," he said out loud, and made his move.

---

We have to admire Marvin's honesty and ethical sportsmanship. But nonetheless he's in quite a situation. Hopefully none of our readers face equivalent dilemmas, and you can solve today's position at ease and at leisure. When you're ready, click on Read More for the solution and the conclusion of today's episode.

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Looks like the folks in the photo above are in quite a rush. Maybe they should "make haste slowly" lest they trip and fall.

"Make haste slowly" is the watchphrase for this month's speed problem. In the diagram below, White is two pieces up and the win, as they say "should be easy" and it actually is --- if you make haste slowly.

How fast can you solve this one? Perhaps fast enough --- but not too fast? Proceed a bit slowly, and when you're ready hasten to click on Read More to see the solution.

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