We thought for today's column we'd try something new; namely, publish a checker problem composed by one of the better artificial intelligence (AI) engines. So we got on to one of them--- although we won't mention the name, it's by far the most well known--- and gave it a try.

It was a real learning experience.

We started out by asking it to compose a problem for 8x8 Anglo-American checkers. It happily did so, putting pieces on both the light and dark squares, and then offering to compose more difficult problems. We went through two more iterations and got the same sort of thing.

We then explicity told it to only put pieces on the dark squares (something it had previously told us it was doing, but it wasn't). Same result. We admonished it again. It came back with a problem and a solution that made no sense. For one thing the pieces were either (a) moving in the wrong direction, or (b) it was just fine to have an uncrowned man on the last row.

After this we asked for sources of checker puzzles. It gave a few, with mixed accuracy; some of the websites cited didn't feature problems and the same was true of the referenced books. (It did give a pointer to our site, which was surprising but nice.) The engine also casually mentioned Tom Wiswell and offered to compose a Wiswell-style problem. Alas, that was a bust too, as again it confused movement directions and spewed out something that made no sense.

That was enough for us, and for today's column we turned back the clock to something well over a hundred years before AI and AI hype was ever even heard of, to select a nice problem by an honest to goodness human, who knew orders of magnitude more about composing checker problems than the best AI today seems to know.

It's a nice problem, neither too hard nor too easy, which can be readily solved with your natural intelligence. Blow a raspberry at AI and solve this one, and then click on Read More to check your solution.

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It was a sunny Sunday morning in the fall and in the very swank Detroit suburb where Priscilla Snelson had her very swank condo, she and her husband, Marvin J. Mavin, were at breakfast.

As regular readers know, Priscilla was the CEO of the large multinational conglomerate Rust Belt Holdings. Marvin, her somewhat unlikely husband, was the Captain of the Detroit Doublejumpers in the National Checker League. He was nothing short of a superstar but even his superstar salary didn't come close to Priscilla's CEO compensation.

Indeed, Priscilla liked the finer things, such as her 5,000 square foot condo, her fleet of cars including a Rolls-Royce limo, a Jaguar and many others right on down to her "everyday" Lexis. Marvin, on the other hand, had simpler tastes. Prior to marriage, he drove a dilapidated old Volkswagen Beetle and lived in a small one-bedroom apartment in a quite undesirable part of Detroit. Of course, once they married, Priscilla insisted on quite a few changes to Marvin's lifestyle.

But right now, at about nine in the morning, the couple was breakfasting on poached eggs with caviar, smoked salmon, avocado toast, freshly squeezed orange juice, and 100% Kona coffee, all prepared by one of Priscilla's private chefs (she had just recently added a second chef for Sundays, which was the day off of her regular chef).

Priscilla was glancing through a business book, The Gentle Art of Hostile Takeovers, while Marvin was reading the Sunday paper, The Detroit Free Herald. With both spouses immersed in their reading, breakfast was quiet. Marvin had a match in the evening but didn't have to report to the clubhouse for warmups until two o'clock, and Priscilla was enjoying a rare half day off from her busy job.

But suddenly, Marvin spoke up. "That can't be!" he said loudly, looking up from his newspaper.

Priscilla, a bit annoyed by the loud interruption--- she was just reading a fascinating chapter that talked about what percentage of the staff to fire after a hostile takeover--- also looked up. "What can't be, dear? What is so impossible that you felt the need to remark rather loudly about it?"

"Well, just look!" he said, turning his newspaper toward Priscilla and indicating an article in the checker section.

Priscilla took a cursory glance. "So?" she said, "what is it that stands out?"

Marvin shook the newspaper and pointed. "Well, right here!" he said. "See, the Dallas Dundees are a good team and they kind of stand out on the lower boards." (In the National Checker League, matches were played five boards to a side; the strongest player played first board and so on down to fifth board.) "Well, they played the Minnesota Moves, who are stronger on the top boards and weaker on the bottom. So, the top four boards split 2-2. But on the 5th board, where Dallas played Herb Woodman, well ... I can't believe it!"

"Can you get to the point, dear?" said Priscilla.

"Yeah, yeah, well see Minnesota played Sammy Sammerson on 5th, and he won! Woodman is so much stronger than Sammerson that it's ... well ... it can't be!"

"But it was, wasn't it? Even good players lose games. Now, if you'll let me get back to my book ... "

"Okay, right, sorry, but I gotta know more about this. It just don't make no sense."

"Yes, dear, if 'it don't make no sense' you can surely look into it if you wish." At that, Priscilla turned back to her book and didn't say any more.

Breakfast was leisurely and it wasn't until nearly 11 o'clock that the couple got up from the table. Priscilla decided to take a short rest before heading off to the office while Marvin opted for an hour or so of The Checker Television Network. But he got restless and decided to go to the clubhouse about half an hour ahead of practice.

He changed into his regular clothes, said good-bye to Priscilla, and then drove the "everyday" Lexus to the clubhouse. (Priscilla wouldn't let him drive any of the other cars, or at least not very often.)

Traffic on the Interstate wasn't bad and Marvin actually arrived at the clubhouse 45 minutes before practice was scheduled. He gave a brief thought to stopping for a quick beer but quickly dropped the idea; if Coach Baba Dudut were to find out, Marvin would (quite rightly) be suspended for a while.

Marvin quickly changed into his team uniform, so as to be ready for practice, but then logged on to one of the team's NCL computer terminals. A lot of information was available to the players and coaches, including records of all the games in all the league matches.

"I just gotta see this," he said, and with a quick search pulled up the game played yesterday between Sammy Sammerson and Herb Woodman. Woodman's player rating was 2100 while Sammerson's was 1900, a full 200 points lower. "No way Sammerson coulda won," Marvin said. "No way at all!"

Marvin brought up the CheckahBoard computer program in another window on the computer screen and started playing through the moves in the game. Everything looked pretty normal. There were some small mistakes on each side but nothing out of line with the players' ratings and major league status.

1.	10-14	24-19
2.	7-10	22-17
3.	9-13	28-24
4.	13x22	25x9
5.	5x14	29-25
6.	11-15	25-22
7.	6-9	23-18
8.	14x23	27x11
9.	8x15	26-23
10.	9-14	32-28
11.	4-8	24-20
12.	15x24	28x19
13.	8-11	22-18
14.	1-5	18x9
15.	5x14	30-26
16.	2-7	19-16
17.	12x19	23x16
18.	10-15	26-22?

Marvin stopped at his point. "No," Marvin said, almost in a whisper, "that just couldn't have been." Then he said it louder. "No way Woodman played 26-22!" But in fact he had.

"What are you talking about?" an angry voice said behind him.

---

What move should Herb Woodman have played? How is Black now going to win? And what do you think is going on here? Correcting the error should be easy although playing out the win is quite a bit more work. Give it some thought and effort and then click on Read More to find some of the answers.

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So what's the correct spelling of "encylopedia"? (The younger amongst you might even ask "What's an encylopedia?" as they've just about gone the way of the dinosaurs.) The modern spelling is as just given--- encylopedia. But the older spelling is more like "encyclopaedia" although not exactly --- the 'a' and 'e' in the 'ae' combination are really a single character once called "ash" which represents the Latin 'ae' dipthong. A bit on the academic side? Perhaps, but interesting nonetheless.

The following checkerboard situation, also on the academic side, is derived from the famous opening guide called Kear's Encylopaedia, and we'll stick with the classier old style spelling as Kear himself did. It's on p. 370 and arises from a variation in a Souter opening. Black has just erred and now White has what is truly a textbook win. The problem is slanted more towards the advanced beginner or lower intermediate player, but our expert readers should see how quickly they can solve it.

It doesn't require encyclop(a)edic knowlege to solve this one, but it does require a grasp of some endgame basics. Give it a try and then click on Read More for the solution.

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Bismarck, North Dakota, is a cold weather city to say the least, and January is the coldest of all the months of the year. So the members of the Coffee and Cake Checker Club, which met on Saturday afternoons from just after Labor Day until just before Memorial Day, were very surprised when a visitor walked into their venue, the Beacon Cafe, on a very cold Saturday in January 1955. (Regular readers know that it's always 1955 at the Beacon Cafe.)

It was a few minutes after 1 PM and the "boys" who made up the club (all but one of whom were at least 50 years old) had gathered as usual in the big booths in the back of the Cafe. On seeing the new entrant, Sal Westerman, the Club's unofficial leader, stood up.

"Newboy!" he exclaimed. "Is it really you?"

The young visitor smiled, "Indeed it is, Sal!"

"Newboy" was actually a skilled checkerist named Bob Bertollin, whom Sal had played against during a major summer checker tournament in Las Vegas. Sal and Bob had tied for third and fourth in that high level event.

"I had no idea you were coming to Bismarck," Sal said. "What brings you here?"

"Just passing through on my way to Minneapolis," he said, "and as I knew about your club, I thought I'd stay overnight before continuing on tomorrow morning."

Sal smiled. "You're more than welcome to be here," he said. "Let me introduce you around."

Today Delmer, Wayne, Larry, Dan, Mike, Ron, Young Blaine, and Louie the Flash were on hand and they all shook hands and greeted "Newboy." Then Sal continued, "Tell you what, Newboy. You're a young and upcoming checkerist, and so is Young Blaine here. How about the two of you play a game while the rest of us kibitz?"

Young Blaine, upon hearing this, had kind of a wary look. "I don't know, Sal, you've said what a good player Newboy is; I don't think I'd have a chance."

Sal chuckled. "Tell you what, Young Blaine, how about this. I'll back you up. If you can win or even draw against Newboy here, I'll buy all the treats today."

Newboy quickly spoke up. "No Sal, I'll buy no matter what as long as Young Blaine here plays a game with me. Seems only right to thank you for your hospitality."

"Very nice of you, Newboy," Sal said, "so how about it?"

The rest of the boys urged Young Blaine on and he soon agreed. "Why not?" he finally said, and everyone cheered.

Deana, the proprietess of the Cafe and an award winning baker, not to mention a great marketer, casually mentioned that today she had freshly made chocolate macadamia bars. "A friend of mine brought me back some mac nuts from Hawai`i," she noted, "and the treats are extra-special today."

Deana then poured more coffee for everyone although Newboy actually requested hot tea. Then the game began with all of the boys watching closely.

Black: Young Blaine
White: Bob "Newboy" Bertollin

1.	12-16	24-20
2.	8-12	28-24
3.	3-8	23-18
4.	16-19	24x15
5.	10x19	21-17
6.	11-15	...

Sal and a couple of the boys frowned just a bit but tried not to let Young Blaine see their reaction to this move.

6.	...	18x11
7.	8x15	...

Newboy knew he now had a win.

---

What should Young Blaine have played instead of 11-15? And how is Newboy going to win it? A word of warning; the solution is long and requires precise play.

Although as always you'll need to supply your own treats, give this a try and then click on Read More to see the solution and the brief conclusion of our little story.

[Read More]

It happens every January. The holiday season has come to an abrupt end, and it's back to work as usual for another year. Depressing? Perhaps. But don't let it get you down. We have a nice checker problem to help cheer you up and distract you from reality. It's from our nearly exhausted stock of problems by the late grandmaster composer Edgar Atkinson, who composed it at age 14 and had it published in Elam's Checker Board in December 1952, until the title Youthful Efforts.

White is a man down; can you find the draw? It's not really that difficult ... or is it? Give it a try and then click on Read More to see the solution.

[Read More]

No one knew much about her, not where she lived, if anywhere; not who her parents were, if she even had any; not even what her real name might be, if she herself even knew what it was. They all just called her "The Little Checker Girl" because she would be seen on various streets around the downtown area of this big northern city, sitting with her back up against a building, her checkerboard on the sidewalk in front of her, asking and sometimes even begging passers-by to play a game with her.

"Play checkers for a dollar?" she would call out. "Easy to play, easy to win!" Once in a while someone would take pity, or take interest, or just take a moment, and a dollar bill would go into the grimy pocket of the girl's tattered overcoat.

They would see her even on cold days and often well after darkness, inviting play under a street lamp. "Only a dollar! Play a game before you go home!" But in the chill darkness of the night, there was no crowd and the few stragglers just wanted to go to their trains or cars or buses, to get home and out of the cold, to have a hot meal, and to climb into a warm bed. But there was none of that for the Little Checker Girl.

If someone asked her name she would perhaps say Suzie, or maybe Carol or Betty or something else. A few people, the ones who passed by more often, would ask, "What's your name today, Little Checker Girl?"

Little Checker Girl was thin and wan. She looked a bit better in the summer but the winters took their toll. She had been playing on the streets for about three years, and those who cared to think about it believed her to be around ten years old. But not likely, they said, to be around much longer.

This winter had unfortunately been especially severe, and there were many days and nights of cold and snowy weather. It was late in December and tonight was in fact Christmas Eve. Most offices had let out early and by dark the streets were nearly empty. But the Little Checker Girl was still huddled up against a building, hoping to play a game for a dollar; maybe someone would even give her an extra dollar because it was almost Christmas.

She needed the money badly; what no one knew was that she lived in a room in a crumbling apartment building that had long been abandoned. She had found a spot on a high enough floor where the drunks and the vagrants didn't go because it was too much of a climb on steep stairs. She got water from a faucet in a nearby courtyard. She had scavenged an old bucket and a little tiny oil stove on which she warmed whatever food she could obtain, and then use it--- sparingly, as oil was costly--- to make a little heat on the coldest nights.

Unfortunately on this night, on Christmas Eve, she had neither money nor food and the oil canister was empty. Filling it up cost five dollars and food cost a couple of dollars more. So she stayed out in the bleak night in the hopes of getting just enough money to buy a little fuel and something to eat.

But then it started to snow and the street was now completely empty. In sadness the Little Checker Girl packed up her board and pieces and started on her way to her bleak and cheerless home. It would be a cold and hungry night, but at least she could get out of the snow and the biting wind that was now blowing stinging snowflakes into her face.

However, the snow soon became so heavy that she couldn't see a foot in front of her. She must have lost her way, for much time had passed and still she hadn't reached the old building in which she took refuge.

Finally she gave up and went into an alleyway to get a respite from the wind. She huddled up in a corner, pressing her back into the walls of a grimy brick building, hoping that perhaps a little heat would leak through from inside. It was so very cold.

The Little Checker Girl wrapped her arms around herself and before long her eyes closed. Her mind as well as her body was numb and she wanted to sleep, not realizing that she might never again awaken.

"Little Checker Girl, wake up! I want to play a game of checkers with you!"

Slowly Little Checker Girl's eyes opened. Vaguely she remembered falling asleep--- or was it something else?--- in an alley in the midst of a snowstorm. But now she saw neither snow nor grimy walls nor dingy buildings. She was in a soft bed, covered with warm quilts, in a small rustic cabin where a fire was blazing brightly on the hearth.

The voice she heard belonged to an elderly, grey-haired woman with kind eyes and a soft expression. "Come over to the table," she said, "and in a moment we can play a game or two of checkers."

Little Checker Girl folded back the bedclothes and saw that she was clothed in a fine wool nightdress, with woolen stockings on her feet and a woolen cap on her head. There was no sign of her tattered overcoat or her other well-worn clothing. In the center of the cabin there was a rough wooden table, and on it was a fragrant loaf of bread, plates of butter and jam, and a steaming pot of tea ... and her checkerboard and pieces.

Little Checker Girl realized how hungry she was and, murmuring thanks, went to the table and spread slices of bread thick with jam and butter. She ate gratefully and drank some of the delicious hot tea. And while she had her meal, the best meal she could remember in ages and ages, the kindly old woman spoke.

"You know, your name isn't really Little Checker Girl," she said, "or any of the other names you've been using. It's actually Maureen and I know all about you. I know how your parents and brothers and sisters all died in a fire one night, and how you escaped with only your checkerboard and the clothes on your back. You were afraid and ran away and no one ever found you, for they all thought you died in the fire too."

Maureen looked up, surprised. "But I don't remember ... " she started to say, but the kindly woman interrupted.

"No you don't," she said, "it was so horrible your mind blocked out your memories. And even though I tell you of it now, it will all still stay locked away. That's for the best, I think, and in any event you are safe now in a warm place with food to eat and someone to care for you. If you wish, you may stay here with me for as long as you like. There are other children in the neighborhood with whom you can play, there are schools where you can go to learn, and you need not worry about anything ever again."

Maureen stood and walked around the cabin. Outside she could see a mist imbued with warm, ethereal light. "Oh! It is such a generous offer! I will of course stay here and live with you," she said. 'But what shall I call you?"

"My name is Seraphina, and I am your Guardian Angel."

Maureen smiled and went to Seraphina and gave her an affectionate hug. "Thank you again," Maureen said, "and we can play that game of checkers now if you wish."

---

Our story is of course inspired by the Hans Christian Andersen classic The Little Match Girl. We hope you found it appropriate to the season.

---

Maureen and Seraphina played checkers often and their games were always friendly, spirited, and a great source of enjoyment for them both. Here's one game that led to an interesting position.

1.	11-15	23-19
2.	7-11	22-17
3.	11-16	26-23
4.	16-20	30-26
5.	2-7	25-22
6.	8-11	19-16

22-18 was best here. Black now will get a solid advantage.

7.	12-19	23-16
8.	4-8	16-12
9.	11-16	17-13

How would you win this one? What move do you think Maureen played? Can you match wits with her? See what you can do and then click on Read More to see the solution.

[Read More]

"Please don't tell me you're thinking of another cruise," Marvin said.

"Oh, no, dear," Priscilla replied, "not in the least. After all, how could we top that cruise to Panama we took over Thanksgiving? That was marvelous, wasn't it?"

Priscilla, as our regular readers know, is Priscilla Snelson, the wife of Marvin J. Mavin, and the CEO of the giant international conglomerate Rust Belt Holdings. Marvin is the superstar Captain of the Detroit Doublejumpers, a team in the National Checker League, and one which has been a many time winner of the World Series of Checkers.

In our previous story, Marvin and Priscilla cruised on Luxury Lines from Miami to Panama, a voyage in which Marvin was coerced into giving checker lessons and directing a checker tournament. The cruise experience was much more to Priscilla's liking than to Marvin's.

"No, dear husband, we have a special invitation for Christmas dinner, and it's interesting that you should mention our cruise, as the invitation stemmed directly from someone we both met on-board."

Marvin was instantly wary. "Whaddya mean, Prissy?"

"Don't call me Prissy! How many times must I tell you that! But ... anyhow ... you remember that nice gentleman who sat next to you at Thanksgiving dinner at the Captain's table?"

Marvin in fact did remember all too well.

"Well," Priscilla continued, "wouldn't you know it, but he has a home nearby! Normally, of course, he works on Wall Street in New York, but he has a getaway mansion in Grosse Pointe and goes there for the holidays. Isn't that grand! You surely remember Nicolas N. Nickelson, the hedge fund manager?"

"Um ... uh ... like, are you sayin' that this stuck-up rich dude invited us and stuff?"

"Yes, he did! He and I got to be friends over drinks while you were doing your checker duties, and we'll be going to his vacation mansion for Christmas dinner!"

"I think even a cruise would be better than that," Marvin muttered under his breath. Then, aloud, he said, "Please tell me he didn't invite us for New Year's Eve, too?"

"Oh no, dear, that would have been nice, but he has to be back in New York to entertain clients from Qatar and Monte Carlo. In any case, we'll be joining my business friends for New Year's Eve at a private party one of them is putting on in Aspen."

Marvin was speechless, and perhaps that was just as well.

It was Christmas Day. Priscilla and Marvin had slept in and, just after breakfasting on a Christmas special of caviar served on poached eggs, they had exchanged gifts. Priscilla gave Marvin a diamond encrusted Swiss watch, even though she knew Marvin rarely wore a watch. "It's the thought that counts," she told him. In turn, Marvin gave Priscilla the keys to a brand new Mercedes, as her current Mercedes was already a good 18 months old, and by Priscilla's standards was due for replacement.

A cozy afternoon passed but at around 4 o'clock Priscilla reminded Marvin that it was time to change into dinner clothes. "Cocktails at 6, dinner at 8," she announced, "and I doubt that Mr. Nickelson would care to be kept waiting."

"Dinner clothes?" Marvin said. "I ain't got no ... "

"No, no," Priscilla interrupted. "Not a tux, just a dinner jacket, a white shirt, and a black bow tie. You've got several dinner jackets from other occasions. Just look in the back of your closet; I had one freshly dry-cleaned and pressed for you. Wasn't that considerate of me?"

Priscilla's limo proceeded at a stately pace down the quarter-mile long driveway of Nicholas Nickelson's vacation mansion, smartly turned into the loop at the top of the drive, and came to a gentle halt. Immediately liveried footmen opened the doors of the limo and showed Priscilla and Marvin to the enormous entryway.

Mr. Nickelson himself greeted the arriving couple just inside the door. "Dear sweet Priscilla," he exclaimed with a smile, kissing her once on each cheek. Then he turned to Marvin and, with seeming reluctance, offered a hand. "And you must be, of course, yes, that checker playing husband." His handshake was perfunctory at best. "I remember you from the cruise. You were a hired hand, weren't you, what with ... what did you do ... give lessons or something? Some sort of minimum wage job? Or did you just work for food?" Nickelson laughed. "Imagine that!" he said. "I can see the sign! 'Will teach checkers for food!' How marvelous a sight that would be!"

Marvin glanced over at Priscilla, who merely warned Marvin with a look not to say anything in return. But Nickelson wasn't quite done. "Maybe I can introduce you to some of my hedge fund friends! Perhaps they'd give you a hot dog in return for a lesson! But I'm in the business of making money for myself and my clients. Scads of money. So we have to play chess, not checkers."

"That old line again?" Marvin said, unable to hold back. "I heard that at from all those CEOs this past summer and I had to straighten them out!" (Please see our previous Checker Maven story.)

"Oh," Nickelson said, "did you teach some CEOs? Did they feed you well? Hamburgers, even? Or are you happy with instant ramen!" He laughed again.

"Dude, do you play checkers?" Marvin said it almost in a growl. Priscilla grabbed his upper arm and squeezed hard in further warning. But it was too late.

""Course I do," said Nickelson with a laugh. "Who doesn't? It's a kid's game, right, we all learned it as kids, except apparently----" Nickelson paused to look Marvin in the eyes--- "some of the kids never grew up! Ha ha ha!" He paused a moment. "But anyhow, did I invite you to this party? Why are you here?"

Priscilla finally spoke up. "Marvin is my husband, don't you remember? You invited us as I recall."

Nickelson reflected a moment. "Yes, 'spose so," he said, "but I didn't think you'd actually bring him. I thought we were going to, you know, have a nice little night of private time upstairs, just you and I. What do you think, Marvin, wouldn't that be nice ... for Priscilla and I to have a little alone time, upstairs?"

Marvin made a fist, pulled back his arm, and was about to connect with Nickelson's nose when Priscilla yanked him back. "No violence, honey," she said. "I think I mis-estimated Mr. Nickelson quite badly. You were quite insulting, sir, and I tried to get Marvin to remain polite with you, but you've pushed things too far and your suggestive talk insulted me as well. So here's what I propose. Instead of Marvin slugging you in the nose and knocking you on your fat tail, but probably getting arrested for doing so, how about the two of you play a nice little game of checkers? You say you're this superior chess person, so surely you'd win a simple game against someone whom you say isn't even a real grownup?"

Nickelson glared. "Sure," he said, "I'll take on your child husband, but let's make it worthwhile. What do you say we stake $100,000 on the game?"

"Oh, no," Priscilla said, "let's make it even more interesting. $500,000. And you get draw odds. You win the bet if Marvin loses or draws."

"Honey, gee," Marvin said, "draw odds? That's takin' a risk ... "

"You'll win," Priscilla said, "or I'll be the one breaking your nose."

"Let's do it," Nickelson said, and then announced the terms of the match to the partygoers. One of the event staff set up a checkerboard and the crowd gathered around to watch.

The game began. Nickelson played a reasonably decent game and the position came down to the one shown below with Marvin to move.

"A cool half million," Nickelson said, "for you can't possibly win this one. Half a million, why, that's a week's worth of my earnings! It will be nice to have!"

---

A lot is on the line; half a million dollars, and definitely ego and prestige. Marvin surely must be feeling the pressure. There's no pressure on you, though; solve the problem at leisure without (we hope) any risk of losing a lot of money and status, not to mention getting punched in the nose. When you're ready, click on Read More to see the solution and the conclusion of our story.

[Read More]

"We know you had a great time over Thanksgiving at your sister in law's place in Dickinson," Delmer said. "So tell us, are you going in for a repeat performance this Christmas? Maybe you can stay until New Year's Day!"

Everyone laughed, except the target of the remark, the elderly gentleman Sal Westerman.

The location was the Beacon Cafe in Bismarck, North Dakota. It was December 1955 and the holidays were just a week away. The occasion was the weekly meeting of the Coffee and Cake Checker Club, which met every Saturday afternoon from just after Labor Day to just before Memorial Day, with time out for the Thanksgiving and Christmas / New Year's holidays.

Sal was the club's informal leader, and the ones teasing him were the "boys" of whom all but one were at least 50 years old.

In our previous Beacon Cafe story, we recounted how Sal's wife, Sylvia, got him to go out to Dickinson for Thanksgiving at her sister in law Phoebe's home. Phoebe and Sal, as also recounted in previous stories, didn't exactly have a cordial relationship, what with Phoebe's constant criticism of Sal's checker hobby, among many other perceived shortcomings.

"No," Sal finally replied, slowly and deliberately, "we won't be going to Dickinson. Our daughter Joyce is able to get some time off from the law practice and will come over from Washington for a visit. We'll be staying home and spending our time with her."

Everyone commented as to how nice that would be. The boys individually commented on their own plans. Most of them would be home with family or going out to the family farm for several days. Louie the Flash, predictably, had a girlfriend lined up and would have Christmas at her place. He wasn't so sure about New Year's Eve, though, as he said "the relationship really isn't going all that well." That got another laugh from everyone, as Louie went through girlfriends as fast as a Cadillac went through gas.

Deana, the proprietess of the Cafe, would of course visit with family in Gackle and close the Cafe for about ten days. But when it came to Young Blaine, who had over the summer gotten married to his now-wife Moira, the teasing shifted away from Sal and onto Young Blaine.

"So then, Young Blaine," Wayne began, "are you taking Moira on a spectacular holiday vacation?"

Young Blaine turned a bit red. "Actually," he said, "that's something of a problem."

"What do you mean?" Dan asked. "You just buy a ticket to Paris or Rome and off you go! Problem solved."

"Uh, remember, I'm just an Assistant Engineer," Young Blaine replied, "and I can't afford that kind of thing."

"With you and Moira both working?" Dan added.

"Besides," Young Blaine continued, "neither of us have that much vacation time, especially after our honeymoon. But ... well ... that's kind of what Moira and I have been ... disagreeing about."

"Fighting, you mean?" Wayne said.

"Not exactly fighting ... well, okay, a little. Moira didn't think our honeymoon was long enough and she wants what she calls a 'continuation" and she wants it in Hawai`i."

"Oh, boy," Larry said, "get out your checkbook for that one."

"I know," Young Blaine went on, "and she says we have enough vacation to go for one week. But that hardly seems worth it, to spend so much money for just a week. I want her to wait for summer when we can go for two weeks, as we'll have more money and vacation time saved up. But she won't hear of it. 'Now or never' she says, and the 'never' part sounds kind of ... I don't know ... threatening?"

At this moment Sal chuckled. "Young Blaine," he said, "Moira is a new bride, and she wants to keep that special 'just married' feeling. You can't blame her for that. Certainly she's not threatenng you; she just wants to get your attention. Now, take it from me. You're only young once, and not even for all that long, and hopefully you're only newly married once. So go along with things. Make her extra happy. Take out a small loan if you must. Show her that she's at least as special after marriage as she was before. You'll never regret it."

There were nods around the table, and even Deana (who had never herself been married) chimed in.

"Uh ... okay ... " Blaine stammered, "but ... uh ... Sal ... shouldn't we be doing a checker problem or something?"

Sal chuckled once more. "Yes, Young Blaine, we should, and you've had enough teasing and free advice for one afternoon. Here you go, boys."

Sal laid out the following position on a couple of the checkerboards in the big booth in the back of the Cafe where the boys always sat. And of course Deana announced today's treat: apple strudel. The way it always worked was that the boy would attempt Sal's problem and if they solved it Sal bought the treats; if they couldn't, they bought treats for Sal and Sylvia.

Sal gave the boys an hour and soon they were in deep concentration.

---

A second honeymoon in Hawai`i over the holidays; that's quite a lot for Young Blaine to think about. While we don't know what you, our reader, will be doing over the holidays, we suspect it may not be a second honeymoon--- but who knows? Anything can and does happen in the world of checkers. Meanwhile, though, see how you do on today's problem, and then click on Read More for the solution and the brief, and possibly surprising, conclusion to our story.

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With today's column The Checker Maven reaches 21 years of on-time no-fail weekly publication. We modestly think that's quite an achievement, especially as at the outset we only had planned on 10 years. While we can't say how much longer we'll continue due to issues of age, health, and eyesight, for the moment we're planning to carry on. We greatly enjoy bringing you the adventures of Sal and Marvin and Tommy and all their supporting characters and we are pleased to promote the game of checkers as best we can.

Our readers, of course, are who make this all possible. We appreciate each and every visit to our site. Without readers, there would be little purpose, and while our readership has declined with the unfortunate decline of interest in the game, we're still proud to have over 1,000 weekly visitors.

And now, on to the 22nd year!

Josh continued to postpone talking to Coach. He'd feel one way about it and then he'd feel another way, and now he was concerned about what Amy had said. He had a sneaking suspicion about what might be wrong ... but he couldn't be sure without talking to her again, and that would require contacting her at home, prior to the third and final match, which might well be out of line. In any case he didn't have her number.

Josh spent something of a sleepless night, upset by both his own dilemma and Amy's troubles, whatever they might be. But then, early in the morning, when Josh was about to give up on trying to sleep, the hotel room phone rang.

"Is it Mr. Gosh?" the voice on the phone said.

Josh groaned. "This is Josh. You again? The guy with the phony team in the phony kingdom?"

"Ah, so you are not yet a believer. Never mind; your playing is very well," the voice said. "Do another good play tonight and the big offer we will make." At that, the line disconnected.

This had gotten way too far out of line and Josh had had enough. He picked up the room phone again and called Coach's room.

"Hello?" Coach answered.

"This is Josh, Coach. I need to talk with you right away."

"It's only six AM, can it wait?"

"No, Coach, I don't think so."

Josh heard a little grumbling on the other end of the line. "Okay," Coach said finally, "come to my room. But pick up a couple of coffees on the way. One cream, one sugar for me."

"Got it, Coach," Josh replied.

Josh went down to the Starbugs in the lobby and then, armed with what was surely no better than mediocre coffee, went to Coach's room. He knocked on the door and was quickly admitted.

"Okay," Coach said, "tell me what's on your mind that's so pressing you had to talk about at this hour."

"Well, Coach," Josh said, "I got these phone calls ... "

Josh went on the give Coach the full picture.

"You should have told me right after that first call," Coach said.

"I know, Coach," Josh replied, "but I didn't want to sound like a whiner or that I was making threats or anything because I didn't move up to AAA checkers this season."

Coach thought for a moment. "Okay," he said, "I get that, and I suppose what really counts is that you did finally tell me, especially after that second call. Well, let me lay it out for you, and though I shouldn't be letting you in on all of this, you do deserve something of an answer.

"First, that scout or recruiter or whatever he is, legit or not, is causing a lot of trouble. I'm going to have to notify management about this and there will be an international complaint filed--- well, at least if the guy can be tracked down through phone records or something. You'll be in the clear yourself, although you'll probably have to make a statement.

"Now, I'll tell you straight out that the Detroit organization won't sell out your contract at any price. So forget about that. You have a lot of long term potential and we're not letting you go anywhere. As to your moving up to AAA checkers, well, just keep playing the way you're playing and it won't be long. We wanted you to have some experience on first board this year before you go up. You know for sure that when you reach AAA play you're going to be a sub for while. That's a whole new class of play. So be happy on first board here in AA checkers for a little while longer. Your time will come. But there's more to this."

"I get it, Coach, I really do, and I sure appreciate the explanation. But what else is there?"

"It's kind of dirty pool. But this guy who called could be a complete phony, spoofing a phone number and misrepresenting himself in an effort to get you into trouble or even wreck your career. A couple of unscrupulous teams might see you as a formidable opponent and want you out of the game. It wouldn't be the first time, and your long-term potential makes you a possible target. Or maybe you made some enemies somewhere."

Josh immediately though about the executive at Ditzy World (see previous Checker Maven story). Would she do such a thing? She just might. But Josh thought it unlikely; Ditzy Company was more into lawsuits.

Coach continued, "So don't forget the old saying about when it seems too good to be true, watch out. I'm not saying that's the case here, but who knows, and in any case it's so far out of line it's not even funny. An unidentified team in an unidentified country? I guess I've heard it all now."

"Yes," Josh said, "this did seem really odd. I mean, sure, I had a good first year but I know I need more experience. I'm not exactly a superstar at this point. You don't become Marvin J. Mavin overnight!"

Coach laughed. "That's for sure. And if one day you play like Marvin, that's terrific, but there are other attributes of his that you might not want to ... well, never mind. Go out there tonight and give 'em all you've got, okay?"

"You bet, Coach," Josh said, much relieved to have everything off his chest. "See you at practice."

Just at that moment Coach took a swig of his coffee and started to cough. "What is this stuff?" he asked. "This coffee is lousy!"

"It's from Starbugs," Josh said, and left the room as quickly as he could.

When Josh took his place at first board that night, Amy looked even more disturbed than on the previous night. "What's up, Amy?" Josh asked after their handshake, noting that her hand was shaky and sweaty.

"There was another phone call ... say, Josh, the series ends tonight and we'll have some freedom ... can we go for coffee after? I need to talk to someone about ... my troubles."

Josh's heart swelled. Was Amy asking him out, and asking him to be her confidant? "Sure," he said, hoping his voice had kept steady, "of course."

But once again, despite whatever nascent feelings Josh had for Amy, and all the other things on his mind, Josh wanted to win this one to show Coach that he understood his situation, accepted it, and was going to advance on merit, not through complaints and conspiracies. And merit meant playing to win in a professional manner.

The match began almost at once, and his game with Amy at last came down to the following position with Josh to play. The Eliminators were up by a score of 6-2 so it didn't matter whether Josh won, lost, or drew, but he wanted to score his third win and sweep the series.

He stole one more glance at Amy, but it didn't take long for Josh to confidently make his move.

---

Our man Gosh Josh sure has a lot going on in his young life right now, but as we've said, he's a professional and his job is to win for his team. Can you win this one? Hopefully for you the stakes aren't as high as they are for Josh, nor are you facing a raft of possible life-changing situations. Choose your move and then click on Read More for the solution and the rest of our story.

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