There had been a lot of changes in the National Checker League since the big scandal in the previous season. The NCL was under new management with a new Commissioner and a new Deputy Commissioner. Several coaches and assistant coaches on various teams, and a number of players as well, had either been dismissed, forced to resign, or outright arrested by law enforcement.

The Detroit Doublejumpers, who had as its Captain our protagonist, Marvin J. Mavin, also had several new coaches and a few new players.

Most notably there was a new Head Coach, as former Head Coach Baba Dudut had been arrested on corruption, racketeering, and other charges. The new coach was Morticia Mumples, who was hired away from the AAA Memphis Mills. She replaced Interim Coach Sammy Sawizawiz who had filled in for a couple of months.

Morticia had a good track record. She had been a professional player, mostly in AAA checkers but with a few years as a substitute in the big leagues. She had coached the Mills to a league championship. Known as a stern taskmaster but also someone who always treated players fairly, she was widely regarded as a good hire.

But something had happened between the close of the season in May and the opening of training camp in August. After signing the contract with the Doublejumpers Morticia disappeared for two months. No one knew where she had gone or what may have happened to her.

Then just before training camp started, she showed up again and was, shall we say, a different person. She called in the sports press and said, "My new name is California Hummingbird. This summer I went on a retreat in a remote mountain monastery in a secret location, which I cannot reveal, but I have seen the light. I will teach the Doublejumpers a whole new approach to the game of checkers, and they too shall see the light and experience bliss and nirvana."

She took no questions from the press. Doublejumper management, when asked, said they would just wait and see. In public, they stated, "Ms. Mumples ... er, Hummingbird ... has a demonstrated record of success and we are counting on her." In private, though, they were rather concerned.

The Doublejumpers always trained at a luxury camp in the appropriately named town of Au Train on Michigan's Upper Peninsula, and traditionally the team boarded a charter bus in Detroit, with the ride to Au Train taking the good part of the day. This year was no different, except that prior to departure, Coach Hummingbird engaged the services of a spiritual practitioner, Swami Sammy Salami, to bless the bus and ask for a safe journey and a successful training month.

Swami Salami chanted in a language he claimed to be Vedic Sanskrit but nearly every phrase sounded something like "oma blah glah nah oma namma ramma gamma"; but since no one on the team had ever studied Sanskrit, they couldn't really say anything.

In any event the bus did arrive safely at the campsite and the players quickly occupied their cabins and then assembled for their inaugural camp dinner. This was normally a festive affair with great food featuring fresh fish and locally sourced produce; there were always a couple of toasts and then the Coach would close the dinner with a talk that set the mood for the month of training.

Under former coach Baba Dudut and his own predecessors, this was usually a lot of tough talk about hard mental and physical work. But Coach Hummingbird took a much different approach.

"My camp will be gentle," she said, "now that I have achieved enlightenment. We do work hard, but we enjoy the work and we envelop it in a spiritual cloak that shields all the pain and leaves only the bliss of achievement and success. I will teach you mantras to chant. We will recite shlokas from spiritual texts. When we do physical training, we will be one with nature and with the Higher Orders. We will revel in the companionship of teamwork and shared achievement. Each morning we will rise early for chanting and yoga ... "

"Not tactics training?" one team member interrupted. "We always used to ... "

"We will meet our spiritual needs first," replied Coach Hummingbird, "for if our spirits are not balanced, how can we do worldly work?"

There were a number of shaking heads and a few muttered under the breath comments as the dinner adjourned.

The next morning, the Doublejumper team was awakened at 5 AM to the sound of a gong. They were all ushered into one of the practice rooms. Our hero Marvin was heard to remark that "the sun ain't even hardly up yet" but then Coach Hummingbird was speaking.

"I will give each of you a spiritual name," Coach said, "and during our time at training camp you will be known by that name and that name alone. It is your key to the ethereal energies that will help you play better checkers."

Coach went around whispering in the ears of the players, and when she got to Marvin, she gave him a friendly smile and said quietly, "You, Captain Marvin, must be both a leader and a player. Therefore you shall be known as Holistic Harmonic Happy Hope, or 4H for short."

Marvin replied, "4H? Ain't that some kinda farm club?" But Coach just smiled and moved on to the next player.

The players then adjourned for breakfast. Instead of the usual sausages, eggs, pancakes and coffee, breakfast consisted of yogurt, fruit juice, herbal tea, and blackberries. The players grumbled but Coach said, "We consume only spiritual food to nourish the spirit. We must not put harmful substances into our sacred bodies."

Next up was an hour of yoga. This was followed by an hour of meditation. Finally before lunch the players gathered again and were asked to each give a statement about how checkers affected the higher orders of their connection to the Great Wheel of Life. Most of the players mumbled a few phrases, not really knowing what to say. Marvin, for his part, said, "I ain't got no idea about nothing like that."

Lunch consisted of a green salad with no dressing, cubes of boiled tofu, and something Coach called "tea of heaven" which apparently was a brew made from various leaves and twigs.

The afternoon was similar to the morning. Finally, at about 4 PM, Marvin spoke up on behalf of the team.

"Coach, ain't we gonna like, practice checkers and stuff? You know, like checker problems and scrimmage games and openings and endings and ... you know, checker camp sorta things?"

"Oh, 4H," Coach replied, "your inner harmonies are clearly misaligned. In my newly conceived checker camp we don't study checkers in the way you describe. Instead we let our spirits soar, we see them fly over the checkerboard; then the pieces on the board, far below, become energetic nodes through which our inner energies pass. We envision a victory and ... voila! The victory is ours!"

Marvin thought for a minute, "Uh ... yeah ... well ... at least can we have some, like, decent food for dinner?"

Another team member then spoke up. It was the second board starter, Timmy Timbuck. "Coach, when you were coaching in AAA did you do all this sort of stuff?"

"Oh, no," Coach replied. "That was back when I was still known as Morticia Mumples. I had not yet achieved enlightenment. But I have now seen a new and better path to success. I couldn't wait to share it with you players. It will be the New Age of checkers!"

At this point the other coaches--- the Problem Coach, the Opening Coach, the Endgame Coach, and the Strategy Coach--- went off to the side and conferred..

Problem Coach Riddleme, who was normally among the hardest taskmasters in the league, was the one who spoke up.

"Team," he said, "we're taking the bus into town for dinner at a steakhouse. Load up. Wheels roll in five minutes."

The players actually cheered. But Coach Hummingbird, clearly shocked and surprised, attempted to protest. "I'm the Head Coach!" she wailed. "You can't do this without my permission!"

"Wrong," replied Coach Riddleme. "Doublejumper executives, unknown to you, have asked all the other coaches to keep an eye on things and take action if necessary. We have full authority. Sorry, Ms. whatever you call yourself, you're no longer Head Coach."

The team went into town and happily consumed steak and lobster dinners. When they returned to camp, Coach Hummingbird was nowhere to be seen. Later, a note was found in her cabin saying she couldn't work with insensitive non-spiritual clods who had no chance at enlightenment. She would return to the monastery in the secret mountain location to wait the coming of the Great Om-My.

Coach Riddleme announced that he was taking over until another Head Coach could be appointed. But even though it was rather late, he called for an hour of problem solving. "We've got to make up for lost time," he said, "but no worries, you'll have your pancake breakfast in the morning with plenty of coffee. Now here, look at this, it's in two parts."

1.	9-13	22-18
2.	12-16	24-20
3.	8-12	25-22

Black played a potentially losing move at this point and the game continued:

4.	16-19	23x16
5.	12x19	27-23
6.	11-16	20x11
7.	7x16	18-15
8.	4-8	...

Of course there were quite a few more problems and positions to be solved before lights out was finally called, but the players were glad to actually, you know, play checkers.

---

We don't know what you prefer; is it steak and lobster or boiled tofu? The choice is yours and literally a matter of taste. But we'll bet you'll enjoy taking on Coach Riddleme's first checker problem. Reach checker enlightenment by finding the solution and then clicking on Read More to see the solution. Recitation of shlokas is optional.

[Read More]

It was August, 1955 (it's always 1955 in these stories) and Labor Day weekend was not far off. For Sal Westerman, that was a good thing.

Sal, being definitely on the elderly side, certainly didn't want to wish his life away. Not at all; he tried to make the most of every day. It's just that by the time late summer came around, he was really missing his Saturday afternoon meetings of his Coffee and Cake Checker Club.

The Club indeed did meet every Saturday afternoon, but only from just after Labor Day until just before Memorial Day. Summers in Bismarck, North Dakota, were noticeably short and North Dakotans made the most of warmer weather to be outdoors, whether camping or fishing, tending to their yards, playing softball, or any other summer activity. The club's venue, the Beacon Cafe, even shut down for most of the month of August so its proprietress, Deana Nagel, could travel back to Gackle, N.D., to help out with the harvest on the family farm.

Sal of course had his own ways of keeping busy during summertime, including a lakeside vacation with his wife Sylvia and numerous other things, many of which of course had to do with checkers. But he missed getting together with the "boys" as he called them (all but one of whom were at minimum 50 years old) for afternoons of checker fun.

This year, for some reason, Sal especially missed his club, and even though it would just be a couple more weeks until the "season" began, he felt somewhat depressed. Perhaps more than somewhat.

To begin with, it was a Saturday afternoon, and he was home alone in his study. His wife was visiting her sister Phoebe in Dickinson, N.D., and Sal avoided going along as he and Phoebe did not have, shall we say, a warm relationship. The Beacon Cafe was closed. Sal had tried calling a couple of the boys to meet up for lunch or coffee, but he wasn't able to reach anyone. They were all off on vacation, fishing or camping, or just too busy with yard work or other summertime chores.

Sal thought about going over to the bar at the Patterson Hotel for a beer, but it seemed like too much effort. It was really hot outside and any amount of walking, even to a nearby park, just seemed like too much. Nothing seemed to appeal to him. Summer had been great, but did it have to be so long? Of course, it wasn't long at all but at the moment it seemed that way.

Taking an afternoon nap was always an option, but he realized that if he did he would wake up even more depressed, having done nothing all afternoon. He'd read the last few issues of All Checkers Digest from cover to cover several times. He'd finished that problem book project that he had started with Young Ed from Pennsylvania and was still impatiently waiting for a proof copy. Things just weren't going his way today.

Maybe he could go to a movie. But that would involve walking and besides there was nothing playing that he wanted to see. Watching daytime weekend television was an even worse option. Going to the library? Going out for a hamburger? Too hot. Too hard.

Sal was sitting in his easy chair, unable to get out of his low mood, when the phone rang and startled him. Who could it be? Sylvia didn't call from Dickinson in the afternoon, and he had just heard from her last night.

Sal hurried as quickly as he could up the stairs to the kitchen, where the phone sat on a small table by the wall. He answered on what was probably the fifth ring, hoping he wasn't too late, and hoping even more it wasn't someone trying to sell him insurance.

"Hello?" Sal said after he picked up the receiver.

"Sal?" came the voice on the other end. "It's Ed, in Pennsylvania. Look, this long distance call is kind of expensive, but I had an idea for one more problem to add to our book. Quick, write this down."

Sylvia thoughtfully kept a small notepad and a pencil next to the telephone. Sal picked up the pencil and said, "Go ahead, Young Ed, I'm ready."

Ed quickly stated the position of the pieces and the problem premise. "Try it out and drop me a line," he said, "and tell me if you think it ought to go in the book. I'll run along now before I spend a month's rent on this call. Take care and say hello to Sylvia for me."

The line disconnected. Sal hung up the phone and looked at the notes he had hastily scribbled. The position was really interesting ...

Sal couldn't wait to get back down to his study and set up the problem. His dark mood had vanished in an instant. This was going to be a great day after all!

---

There's nothing like the excitement of a good new checker problem to lift a checker fan's mood. Of course, we hope your mood today isn't a dark one, but dark, light, or in-between, an Ed Atkinson problem is always a treat. This is one of the last of them in our supply. Enjoy it and click on Read More when you're ready to check your solution.

[Read More]

From June 14 to June 22 in 2025 at a site in Italy, 3-Move World Champion Sergio Scarpetta defended his title against challenger Melikaya Nonyukela. The match was tense and exciting and went to the very last game. The final score was 16-16, comprised of 3 wins per player and 26 draws. With a tie score, the title remained with Mr. Scarpetta but Mr. Nonyukela showed himself to be a player of championship rank and a force to be reckoned with.

Grandmaster Richard Pask has annotated all 32 games of the match and presented them in a new booklet which he has generously allowed us to make available for free download from our website. Get your copy here; these games are definitely worthy of many hours of study and enjoyment.

As a sample, let's look at a position later in Game 32, the last in the match. At that point Mr. Scarpetta led by 16-15 but Mr. Nonyukela had the opportunity to play for a win and bring the match to an overall draw.

Here's the critical position.

What would you have done here? What would be the outcome? This faced Mr. Scarpetta at the very end of the very last game. See what you might do, and then download the book and turn to Game 32 to see the run-up, full notes, and the surprising outcome.

Once again we thank Mr. Pask for the privilege of presenting his work.

There's an old schoolhouse saying about "the exception that proves the rule" meaning that there may be a general rule (typically in grammar) but there are exceptions to the rule, and somehow that "proves" the rule. We always thought that this was, in fact, exceptionally nonsensical, with no basis in logic.

Getting to the point: While today's problem is not quite a "first Saturday of the month" speed problem, it's not overly difficult and it is quite clever, and demonstrates that every rule indeed has its exceptions, even if they don't exactly "prove the rule."

No, you won't need exceptional skill to solve this one, and we hope you won't take exception to our evaluation. But either way, see how you do and then click on Read More to see the exceptional solution.

[Read More]

Marvin was flat on his stomach as one FBI agent had a knee in his back while another handcuffed him. Then he was yanked to his feet and quickly searched.

"We're takin' you in," another agent said, "and you're done for. Too bad, too sad about your big checker star salary. You're nothing now, and you'll be even less in prison." Another agent laughed. "Wonder how long he'll last?" he said with a sly grin.

But as Marvin was being led to one of the SUVs, another three black SUVs pulled into the parking lot and more men piled out with guns drawn.

Marvin was quickly shoved into an SUV and the agents took cover behind their vehicles. "FBI!" one of them shouted. "Drop your guns!"

The reply came quickly. "What are you talking about? We're the FBI!" Drop your guns and come out where we can see you!"

The FBI agents looked over the hoods of their SUVs at the new arrivals. They were about to open fire when one of them said in obvious surprise, "Jack? Chris? It's Mike! But what are you guys doing here? Men, hold your fire, they really are FBI!"

"Dan? Mike? What are you guys doing here?" one of the newly arrived men said. "We were told that Marvin J. Mavin would be here and might be attacked by mobsters. So his wife called the FBI and here we are."

"Well," said Mike, "we had a tip from Mavin's coach that he would be meeting with some conspirators here and we just arrested him based on his Coach's statement."

Marvin, not knowing what to think, said, "Hey, what, are all of you from the FBI?"

"That's right," Jack said, "and it appears there are conflicting stories and something of a mix-up."

"Don't you guys like, you know, talk to each other and stuff?" Marvin said. "So, like, am I still under arrest and stuff?"

"I guess not, at least for now," Jack said, "we'll have to get the stories straight first." Jack removed Marvin's handcuffs but warned him, "You better show up at the FBI building like, right away, and stuff."

It was something of a long night. Marvin gave a statement, as did Priscilla. She had been suspicious about a supposed meeting with the FBI at a location out in the country, and had checked out the Wayward Inn on Google and found it had closed years ago. So she had herself called the FBI and explained the situation.

However it seemed that Coach Baba Dudut had also called the FBI and spun them a story about Marvin being corrupt and going to meet with mobsters. Coach claimed to have intercepted a phone call to that effect. But under questioning his story soon fell apart, and he was held on suspicion of lying to the FBI.

The newspapers got hold of the story, and the FBI's minor embarrassment about uncoordinated action was swept under by the unfolding NCL scandal.

An investigation by several agencies ensued and the results were shocking and far-reaching. And all across the country, and even in Canada, the following scene repeated itself.

# # #

Suddenly the door to the Coach's office burst open and men in tactical gear with weapons at the ready burst in to the shock of the Coach, who was sitting behind his desk busy with paperwork.

"On the floor, now! Hands where we can see them! You're under arrest!"

More men in tactical gear swarmed into the locker room and practice rooms, seeking out individual players and taking them into custody.

But the biggest scene of all played out in Belpre, Ohio, where the NCL Deputy Commissioner was cornered in a stairwell as he tried to flee when he saw the tactical squads exit their vehicles. He tried to put up a fight but one zap from a taser put an end to his struggles, not to mention his career and his freedom.

# # #

Indeed a number of coaches and players from all across the league were arrested, Coach Baba Dudut among the most prominent. The (former) NCL Deputy Commissioner tried to cast aspersions on Axel Homeboy but it seemed the Commissioner had been quite unaware of the goings-on. But the bad publicity forced him to resign, and he was replaced by a Ms. Kimmy Lewis, who appointed Byron Hinman as Deputy Commissioner. Both Ms. Lewis and Mr. Hinman promised complete reform and tight oversight.

And so the greatest scandal in the history of professional checkers came to a highly public and very messy conclusion.

# # #

One night a little while after it was all over, Marvin and Priscilla were relaxing in the living room of Priscilla's condo. A cheery artificial fire was in the faux fireplace. Marvin was enjoying a bottle of beer and a problem in the latest All Checkers Digest. Priscilla had a glass of dessert wine and was reading an issue of the Hostile Takeovers and Malicious Mergers business journal.

Marvin was muttering "I think this one has dual solutions," when Priscilla asked, "So how's the new interim coach?" Coach Baba Dudut had of course been immediately dismissed and was now facing at least ten years in prison.

"Sammy Sawizawiz? He seems like a pretty good guy. He ain't so hard on me like Baba Dudut was. 'Course, he's just interim coach 'til they hire somebody. But I think it's gonna be okay. And the League will make a comeback, you'll see."

"I'm sure it will, dear," Priscilla said, "but all the same, in the future you had still better not be talking to reporters or doing anything foolish. I saved your neck this time but I might not always be able to do so."

"Well, there ain't gonna be ... "

But Marvin saw Priscilla's stern look and knew better than to say anything further.

# # #

Things had gone totally wrong. Cha Cha owed the Bulgarian mob a lot of money and with the match fixing having ended, she had no source of income. It was time to high-tail it out of the country and assume yet another identity.

She thought it was clever how she was able to pull strings from such a distance and manipulate the players and coaches in the NCL. But that fool of a player and his swanky stuck-up wife had ruined it. It was unfair. But at least no one suspected her; operating through the mob, she had kept enough distance to stay in the clear. The guilty had had no contacts beyond the mob, and the authorities had been unable to locate any mob members.

Well, even though she was off to Malaysia, and who knows where after that, they hadn't heard the last from Cha Cha. Not by a longshot.

THE END

---

We hope you enjoyed this 7-part serial and will tune in again for more adventures in the world of Marvin J. Mavin. But meanwhile see if you can solve today's problem. Marvin did hint at something important so do pay heed. When you're ready, click on Read More to see the solution. Or should that be "solutions"?

[Read More]

Postal play in checkers used to be a big thing. The late legendary Richard Fortman was one of the postal greats. Mac Banks, in our own day, is another big name in postal play. But by and large postal play has disappeared. Certainly there are no more postal championships.

The reason, of course, is the rise of the computer as a virtually unbeatable resource; unless matches are strictly played by what we shall call "gentleperson" rules, on the honor system, promising to not use computers, every match is likely to be 100% draws. And even on the honor system, there are now excellent references, vetted by computers, that ensure one side or the other won't get an advantage.

So it's refreshing to come across an actual, current day postal game, played strictly without references. Grandmaster Richard Pask sent us the annotated transcript of a recently completed game with Ron Green, which Mr. Pask says gives us "(a)n important addition to the literature of the 9-13 23-19; 10-15 ballot."

We'll present this in the manner Mr. Pask did in his notes, as a two-part problem. If you wish to take on the full challenge, look at the first diagram (above). Work out what you might play from there; then see what you might do at the second diagram (below). We have omitted the run-up and the continuation; those will be found along with the solutions.

After all of this, click on Read More to see Mr. Pask's complete write-up.

[Read More]

Sal Westerman, the unoffical leader of the Coffee and Cake Checker Club in Bismarck, North Dakota, was on a two-week vacation with his wife Sylvia. His club didn't meet during the summer months, and Sal and Sylvia sometimes rented a lakeshore cabin and relaxed in a pleasant environment away from the big city.

Now, what constitutes a big city may vary according to your location, but in 1955 (the year in which all of these stories take place), Bismarck was considered a big city, at least for central North Dakota. The population would soon cross the 25,000 mark and for North Dakotans that was big.

The lake cabin was near Garrison, North Dakota, which had a population of 1,800 at best. It was just large enough for Sal and Sylvia to pick up groceries and supplies to take to the cabin.

Sal spent mornings fishing on the lake in a little rowboat provided by the cabin owners, and afternoons sitting outside with a checker magazine or two. Sylvia went for nature walks, did some sewing, and prepared rustic meals in the cabin's very basic kitchen.

Sal had noted, however, that about midway in their stay, a visitor would be coming from Pennsylvania. That would be Young Ed, who had already made a name for himself as a master problem composer and who corresponded regularly with Sal. Now, recall that in our last episode, Sal had started on a "secret" summer project to create a book of problems composed by Ed. Many of the problems were already selected and Young Ed and Sal planned to work together for a day or two to finalize the book. Young Ed couldn't stay very long as he needed to continue on to the West Coast to visit with relatives before returning to Pennsylvania at the end of his vacation from work.

Young Ed would be arriving in Bismarck by train and would take the daily bus up to Garrison. He wouldn't hear of Sal and Sylvia driving back to town to pick him up; it was more than enough that they meet him at the Garrison bus stop.

The day of Young Ed's arrival came. Sylvia didn't want Sal to drive as his eyesight was no longer the best, so she drove and Sal rode along. Young Ed had just gotten off the bus when the Westermans arrived. Even though they had never before met in person, Sal and Young Ed recognized each other at once.

"So good to meet you at last!" Sal said, giving Young Ed a warm handshake.

"Same here," Young Ed replied.

"Have a good trip?" Sylvia asked.

"I like the train," Young Ed said, adding, "I never did care for those noisy airplanes."

It was now late afternoon and Sylvia suggested they stop at a cafe before going back to the cabin. The Fisherman's Cafe was their favorite, and over an early dinner, Young Ed and Sal--- naturally--- talked checkers while Sylvia pretended polite interest.

The ensuing evening and nearly all of the following day was filled with checker work as Sal and Young Ed occupied the kitchen table and reviewed problems, draft writeups, and so on, only leaving the table when chased by Sylvia.

"I've got to put lunch out," she'd say, "unless you both want to starve. Go for a walk in the woods or go out on the boat for an hour or so!"

Young Ed and Sal would then good-naturedly set their work aside and get some fresh air.

The following day, just before noon, Young Ed and Sal pronounced their work done. The book was ready for the mimeograph machine. Sal agreed to do the final typing when he got back to Bismarck, and then send the manuscript to Young Ed, who would see about geting it duplicated and into distribution.

Sylvia made a last lunch of fresh fish she had picked up in town early that morning. Then it was time to take Young Ed to catch his bus back to Bismarck, where that evening his train for the West Coast would depart.

Young Ed and Sal didn't know exactly when they would meet again, but Sal said fondly, "We'll surely keep in touch and I'll get that manuscript to you before summer is over."

"Thanks for everything, Sal," Young Ed said, "and thanks, Sylvia, for your kind hospitality."

Then within minutes Young Ed was on his bus and off on the next stage of his trip.

"A nice young man," Sylvia said, "I'm sure he's going to have a great career and leave a wonderful legacy.

The years would prove Sylvia right.

---

Certain liberties were taken with this story. "Young Ed" is of course a fictional version of Ed Atkinson, but in 1955 the real Ed would have been very young indeed and certainly not traveling across the country. Other details, such as daily bus service to Bismarck, are also invented.

But what is certainly not invented is that Ed indeed left us a wonderful legacy, filled with sparkling checker problems and entertaining checker lore. Ed is surely missed, and we hope that our own "secret project" to publish a small volume of his problems, can come to eventual fruition.

Here's one of our last remaining Ed Atkinson compositions.

Ed's problems are always a delight. When you've worked out this one, click on Read More to check your solution.

[Read More]

This column will appear on America's 250th birthday! It's a great day and a great and historic milestone. Your editor is old enough to remember America's 200th back in 1976, and is thrilled to be here for this next major marker in the history of a nation that is like no other in the human experience. To recognize this day in our own way, here is a fanciful story featuring many of your favorite Checker Maven characters.

---

Marvin J. Mavin was enjoying a fine summer day. The National Checker League was in the off season and training camp didn't start for another month. At home in his wife Priscilla's enormous upscale condo, all he had to do was choose an activity. Swim in Priscilla's private pool? Go for a stroll around their exclusive upscale neighborhood? Stay home with a tall cool one and watch Checker Television Network? Or just take a nice little nap?

Marvin was pondering these options when suddenly there was something like a mist in the center of the room. Marvin thought perhaps he had fallen asleep and was dreaming, but then he heard a voice.

"This way, Marvin." The voice was polite but definitely commanding. "Step into the mist. The others await."

"But ... but ... " Marvin began. He was quickly interrupted.

"There is no time to lose. This day only comes once. Enter."

Marvin, not knowing why, stepped into the mist.

# # #

Marvin's wife, Priscilla, had gone to the office. Being a holiday, she thought to have at least half a day of uninterrupted work time, for as the CEO of a large international conglomerate, the work never ended.

She was busily reading through income statements when all of a sudden her desk vanished and was replaced by an opening in the floor. There was a stairway leading downward in the opening.

"Enter," a voice said in a quiet but firm voice. "Come down the stairs. The others are waiting."

"What others?" Priscilla asked, wondering if she should press the button under her desk that silently called Security. Oh ... right ... her desk had disappeared.

"Come," the voice said, not answering her question. "This day only comes once."

Priscilla, wondering if she had perhaps lost her mind under the pressure of business, started down the stairs.

# # #

Tommy Wagner was on his way to Uncle Ben's for his Saturday checker lesson on Uncle Ben's porch. It was another hot day in central Florida and Tommy was looking forward to having some of the delicious cold lemonade that Uncle Ben always made for them both to enjoy.

But a strange sight greeted him when he arrived at Uncle Ben's address. The house wasn't there! And Uncle Ben was standing in front of some sort of a shimmering rectangle that was filled with blue light that seemed to crackle with white lightning bolts.

"This way, Tommy," Uncle Ben said, "we've been called. Come with me through the portal."

"Uh ... Uncle Ben ... I don't get it ... where's the house?"

"Never mind, Tommy; all will become clear. Now hurry, this day only comes once."

Tommy really wasn't sure what to do. But he trusted Uncle Ben, and so the two of them stepped into the blue light.

# # #

Sal Westerman was in his basement study with all the fans turned on, trying to stay cool. His study was his refuge, especially during the hot days of summer. Bismarck, North Dakota may be known as a cold northern city but summers could be blistering hot and this summer, 1955, was no exception.

He had a new issue of All Checkers Digest to enjoy, and he had made a pitcher of iced tea and put it in the old refrigerator he had in his study to keep it cold during the rest of the day. He had just closed the door of the fridge when the fridge disappeared before his eyes. Instead, there was just an empty space, and behind the empty space, a portion of the wall had also vanished to be replaced by the entryway to a long corridor that stretched off into the distance.

"This way, please, Mr. Westerman," a voice said. The voice was polite and respectful but it had a certain--- presence.

"This way ... what?" Sal stammered. "What's happening here?"

"All in due course, sir," the voice said, "but please come now. There is not a lot of time."

Sal, not knowing what else to do, entered the corridor.

# # #

Many others had similar experiences. Sal's wife Sylvia was interrupted and summoned in the midst of sewing a quilt. The "boys" from Sal's Coffee and Cake Checker Club also were called. Like Sal, some were asked to walk down corridors; some were taken through shimmering portals; others descended stairways or entered clouds of mist.

Young Ed and Young Bill were called upon, each of them from different years and in different places. Even old Benny from Benny's Tavern in 1940s Newark, New Jersey, received a visit and a command from an unseen voice.

# # #

All of them suddenly found themselves standing in the National Mall in Washington D.C. Someone was standing in front of them, preparing to speak. The gathered group thought they recognized--- could it really be him?

The speaker immediately confirmed their thoughts. "Yes, I am the spirit of Tommie Wiswell," he said, "and I've gathered you together here from across the years and across the miles. All of you have been characters in the Checker Maven webzine's series of checker fiction stories, and its editor has asked me to assemble you today in the heart of the nation's capital to honor America on her 250th birthday. I know all of you to be true patriots and, no matter the year, place or circumstances, you all have a love for your country.

"America has withstood much over the years, but in good times and bad, the American spirit has prevailed, and I believe that it always will. So today we'll celebrate America's birthday together. For some of you, it's many years in the future; for others, it's the actual day, but I'm sure you will all understand."

Tommie raised his arm in a salute and the gathered group returned the salute. "On with the celebration!" he said.

# # #

The next day, Sal and Marvin and Benny and everyone else wondered what had really happened. Perhaps it was only a dream. But what a dream it was. It was a dream come true; a dream of 250 years of democracy and bringing the light of freedom into the world.

# # #

---

Our story, unusually, didn't feature a checker problem, but we won't disappoint you. Of course given our story you know we're going to turn to that great American checkerist--- and patriot--- Tom Wiswell. The problem isn't by Tom; it's by Charles Hefter, but Tom thought it worthy of inclusion in one of his books.

Many "star" moves are involved on Black's part; can you meet the challenge? When you're ready, click on Read More to see the solution.

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Today we're pleased to present another work by Grandmaster Richard Pask, entitled Americans in Ryde. It's about Asa Long's victory in that seaside town on the Isle of Wight in the 1984 British Open Draughts Championship. In the book, Mr. Pask presents annotated transcriptions of all 20 games played by Mr. Long during the course of the tournament. It makes for great reading and study as the play is indeed most remarkable.

As a sample of what to expect, here's a graphic of the book's cover, with Asa Long (White) to play and win against Pat McCarthy (Black).

And the diagram repeated in a larger format:

To see the solution (it's simple and brilliant) download the book here and consult page 35. Our thanks to Mr. Pask for making yet another of his fine works available through our website.

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.

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