It was Marvin and Priscilla's first Christmas together after their marriage the previous summer. Certainly, they had spent many a Christmas in each other's company during their long courtship and engagement, but as a newly married couple, this one was to be special.

Marvin J. Mavin was the Captain of the Detroit Doublejumpers in the National Checker League. The Doublejumpers were trying to make a comeback after a disappointing previous season. Priscilla K. Snelson was now the Chief Executive Officer of Rust Belt Holdings, a large multinational conglomerate.

Marvin, upon his marriage, had to give up his old Volkswagen and his downscale apartment in a rather unattractive Detroit neighborhood. He came to live in Priscilla's huge 5,000 square foot condo in an exclusive building in a very posh development.

Marvin and Priscilla had discussed what to do for Christmas. They both agreed that going to Priscilla's parents, who lived in a house twice the size of Priscilla's condo in an even more exclusive area, would not be best, at least not this year. They did not think much of Marvin and certainly didn't approve of their daughter's marriage to him. They did go to the wedding but left before the reception began, and gave them no wedding gift.

Priscilla thought to invite a small handful of her friends--- no more than fifty or so, she insisted--- to have Christmas dinner at her condo; for such affairs she always hired a Michelin starred chef. But surprisingly, Marvin was able to talk her out of it, saying he wanted something more personal and intimate.

Then he suggested spending Christmas with his mother in Ohio. He thought Priscilla would object, but to his delight, she said, "Well, Marvin, we did try a Thanksgiving with my parents, so I suppose it's only fair to spend a Christmas with your mother, even though she and I are ... well, let's just say we have different backgrounds and world views."

Now, Marvin's father had passed on when he was young. He was very close to his mother, who didn't really understand sophisticated things and at times thought Priscilla was a secretary in an office in downtown Detroit. Priscilla had only actually met her a couple of times. Mrs. Mavin wasn't at all the kind of person who would generally be in Priscilla's circle, which ran almost exclusively to the rich, cultured, and worldly.

Mrs. Mavin lived in a small home in a small town in central Ohio. It was a little difficult to get there; from Detroit you had to fly to Columbus and then drive for about 90 minutes. Priscilla thought it must just be easier to drive all the way.

"Not in the limo," said Marvin, upon hearing this. "It would stand out too much in that little town and make my Mom uneasy. We could just take my old--- oh, right, I don't have the Volkswagen any longer."

"We could take the Lexus, that's my cheapest car and there's nothing special about it," Priscilla said.

"Honey, there's probably like one Lexus in that whole town and it's probably an old one."

The discussion went on, and in the end they decided to fly and just get a compact rental car at the Springfield airport.

They left in the afternoon of the second day before Christmas and their trip was uneventful. On arrival at the Columbus airport, Priscilla insisted on driving saying she wanted the experience of piloting a "regular" car.

Marvin's mom, Mrs. Mavin, was waiting on her front porch for their arrival and greeted them effusively with hugs and kisses.

"It's so good to see you again, Priscilla," she said, "it's been since that fancy wedding, I think. How ever you could afford that on a secretary's salary, I'll never know. But it was really nice, though, even though you didn't serve a noodle casserole or zucchini bars."

Priscilla kept a straight face and simply said, "I'm glad you liked it, Mrs. Mavin."

"Now, let me show you to your room," Mrs. Mavin said. "I've fixed up the guest room with my quilts--- I knit them myself, you know--- so that you'll stay warm and cozy.

Mrs. Mavin led the couple up a winding flight of stairs and down a short hallway. "Right here," she said, "and the bathroom is at the other end of the hall. I only have a tiny hot water heater so remember, you can't take long showers! I always like a bath, myself. Now, I'll just leave you two for now. It's already nine o'clock and time for bed."

Mrs. Mavin wandered off to her own room.

Priscilla looked around. "Cozy, indeed," she said, "if cozy means small. And old-fashioned. I can just imagine what the bathroom is like."

"Aw, c'mon Prissy, this is how a lot of people live. It's homey and comfortable and it's what they like."

"You mean what they can afford."

"Prissy, don't be such a ... "

"Classist? I know. I'm just used to more ... never mind. But could you please not call me Prissy?"

"Sorry hon. But look, we're only here until Saturday morning, could you like, kinda go easy and just, you know, bear with it?"

Priscilla nodded silently and headed for the bathroom. A moment later there was a scream. "EEEEEEEK!" It was Priscilla.

Marvin came running. "What is it hon?"

Mrs. Mavin arrived a moment later. "What's wrong, children?" she asked.

Marvin entered the bathroom to find Priscilla standing on top of the toilet, staring into the bathtub with wide-open eyes and a frightened look on her face. "There's a spider in here!" she shrieked.

"Oh, dear," said Mrs. Mavin, "that's just one of G-d's little creatures. Here, I'll just pick him up and put him outside."

"Kill it! It scares me!" cried Priscilla.

"Oh, now, that little spider is as scared of you as you are of him," Mrs. Mavin said gently. She took a washcloth and carefully extracted the spider from the bathtub. "I'll just go downstairs and let him out," she said.

Back in their room a little later, Priscilla said to Marvin, "I'm not so sure this was a good idea."

Marvin, looking a little frustrated, was uncharacteristically gruff in his reply. "Could you just relax? I'm sorry my Mom isn't wealthy and lives in an old house with old plumbing and maybe a couple of spiders. Can you please just deal with it? We don't have to stay at the Ritz all the time. It's my Mom, okay?"

In reply Marvin only got a cold look. "Tell you what," she finally said, "how about we just buy your Mom a brand new house for Christmas. We can afford it, and then everyone will be happy."

"Everyone except her."

"What do you mean? How many people get a new home as a gift?"

"She loves it here. She's lived here for over forty years. You could never get her to leave."

"But ... "

"But nothing. You just don't understand, do you? Money isn't everything. A fancy house isn't everything. A snazzy car isn't everything. You know what's everything? Family, that's what. And it's what Christmas is all about. Celebrating with your family and being happy with what you have, not worrying about what you don't have. But you've been wealthy all your life and you wouldn't understand. I'm going to sleep on the couch in the living room tonight."

Marvin grabbed a bathrobe from his suitcase, and left the bedroom, closing the door behind him.

He made up something of a bed downstairs on the living room couch. But he couldn't get to sleep. After a little while he turned on a light and looked on the coffee table. Sure enough, his mom had a couple of back issues of All Checkers Digest waiting for him there. She must have gone to the library to borrow them specially for his visit.

He leafed through one of them and found an interesting problem that he hadn't seen before.

But Marvin was still upset and he didn't make any progress. Finally, he fell asleep with the light on. The magazine dropped to the floor, and the sight of Marvin asleep on the couch with the light on was what greeted Mrs. Mavin when she rose early in the morning to make some breakfast and finish preparations for the Christmas holiday meals, starting with tonight's Christmas Eve celebration.

"Marvin, son, why are you sleeping on the couch?" Mrs. Mavin asked.

Marvin stirred briefly and then woke up. "Huh?" he said, his eyes still only half open.

"Why aren't you sleeping with your bride?" There was a touch of concern in Mrs. Mavin's voice but no hint of reproof.

"Oh ... uh. Yeah, like, I was snoring pretty loud, you know." Marvin didn't want to tell his mom about his quarrel with Priscilla over the accommodations.

"I thought as much. Well, I'll just start up some breakfast. Pancakes, bacon, scrambled eggs, fresh fruit, orange juice, and coffee? Or would you rather have a glass of milk? You always loved your milk, you know."

"Mom, that was like 35 years ago. Thanks, coffee will be fine for both of us." He wondered if he dared speak for Priscilla. She liked lattes made with soy milk and probably wouldn't care for Mom's favorite Maxwell House coffee, made the old-fashioned way in a percolator.

Marvin set the dining room table while his mom prepared breakfast. After about half an hour, just as breakfast was ready to be served, Priscilla came down the stairs and into the dining room. She was dressed her satin bathrobe with a heavy argyle sweater over it. Marvin looked up, and despite last night's quarrel, had to laugh. "You look ... I dunno!" he said.

"Save it," Priscilla snapped. "It's so cold in here I can't believe it. Doesn't your mom heat the ... " Priscilla cut off in mid-sentences as Mrs. Mavin entered from the kitchen, carrying steaming plates of eggs, bacon, and pancakes. She too gave Priscilla a surprised look.

"Cold, dear?" Mrs. Mavin asked. "Oh, I'm so sorry, but tell you what, I'll turn the thermostat up to 68 and then you'll be nice and toasty warm."

Priscilla managed a mumbled thank you.

"Please, sit and eat!" Mrs. Mavin urged. "A hearty breakfast is a good way to begin the day! Now, get started and I'll bring out the rest of the food."

Priscilla looked at the heaped platters and said, "Isn't there somewhere I could go for a latte and a croissant? I can't eat all of this heavy, greasy ... "

Marvin, who had held in his displeasure until now, finally said, "Take it or leave it. No place in this town to get croissants and lattes. But if you want I'll gladly drive you back to Columbus and you can just go back home and spend Christmas with your fancy friends and drown in lattes for all I care!"

Priscilla stood up and hissed, "Sounds great to me." She then padded back to the staircase and headed up to the guest room.

Just then Mrs. Mavin returned to the dining room with bowls of fruit and a coffeepot. "I'm sorry, I didn't make hash browns this morning ... where did Priscilla go?" she asked, noticing the empty seat at the table.

"Oh, uh ... she wasn't feeling well. Upset stomach. Probably from eating something bad at the airport yesterday, I guess," Marvin said.

"What a shame," Mrs. Mavin said. "Well, son, you eat up and I'll make Priscilla a nice pot of tea and some oatmeal porridge. That will help settle her stomach."

"Uh, mom, I don't think she actually wants anything right now. It's like, when she's sick, you know, she wants to be home in her own bed. So I might have to drive her back to Columbus. I'll come back right after, though."

"Oh, no, Marvin, if your bride is sick you need to be with her. Such a shame, though. I was so looking forward to having you both here and spending a nice Christmas together. But it's okay. I can go over to the Legion Hall. A lot of the widows go there for the community celebration."

Despite the brave words, Marvin couldn't help but notice a tear in the corner of his mother's eye, and to him it was just heartbreaking.

"I'll be right back, mom," he said, quickly standing up and going double time up the staircase.

He found Priscilla in the guest room just finishing up with repacking her bag.

"You can't do this," Marvin said. "My Mom is so hurt and I can't stand to see it. You need to stop the nonsense right now, go down there and have breakfast, and quit acting like the big-city hotshot. It just isn't right. My mom is simple, sure, but she has a good heart and despite everything, she loves you just as she would her own daughter. That makes up for all the sophistication and culture and money that she doesn't have. More than makes up for it because it's priceless and it's something money can't buy."

Priscilla raised her head from the suitcase and silently gave Marvin a good long stare.

Then she burst into tears.

Marvin went and put his arms around her.

"I've been horrible," she said. "Just horrible. I don't know how you can stand me. You're so right. Your mom's love is precious. I'll go and apologize right now and hope you both can forgive me."

"Don't apologize," Marvin said gently. "Just eat the breakfast. That will make mom happier than anything. And tell her you're feeling better and will be spending Christmas with her after all."

Priscilla wiped her eyes and nodded silently. Then she changed into a blouse and slacks and went down with Marvin to enjoy bacon, eggs, pancakes, juice, and coffee, with not a croissant or latte in sight.

It was going to be a Merry Christmas after all.

---

It seems like it's become a cliche for Marvin to not get around to solving his checker problem. But you can certainly give it a try, at your leisure, maybe after one of those big breakfasts that Marvin's mom likes to prepare. No matter; solve in the manner and time of your choosing, and then click on Read More to see the solution.

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The Christmas and New Year's holidays were coming, and this would be the last meeting of the Coffee and Cake Checker Club until after the two week break.

Everyone was gathered in the big booth at the back of the Beacon Cafe, which was situated in the Provident Life Building in Bismarck, North Dakota. The year was 1955 and the club was informally led by Sal Westerman, a very accomplished but very modest elderly gentleman.

Several of the "boys" (all of whom but one were over 50 years of age) were on hand. Young Blaine had put in an appearance, as well as regulars Dan, Mike, Wayne, Larry, and Louie the Flash. The group was rounded out by Old Frank, who only was seen on occasion.

It was cold, clear, and crisp outside. The temperature at 1 PM, the club's meeting time, was hovering just above zero (Fahrenheit, of course) and would likely drop well below zero by the time the club adjourned just before the cafe closed at 5.

The cafe was gaily decorated for the season and the chatter was about what everyone would be doing over the holidays. Several of the boys were going back to their family farm in various locations around the state, to celebrate with relatives. Young Blaine would spend the holiday with his parents up in Minot. Sal and a couple others would have a quiet holiday at home.

Now, young Blaine was a busy fellow and only could make it to the club once in a while. Today, he was coming in for some serious but good natured teasing from the older members--- which was everyone else, actually.

"So young Blaine, you finally going to propose to Moira?" Dan asked. Moira was young Blaine's girlfriend of some five years. "I'm sure a big sparkly ring would make a great Christmas gift for her."

"Well, I was actually thinking of maybe a nice bottle of perfume," young Blaine replied, turning a bit red as he did.

"No, no," Sal said, "I tried that one Valentine's Day and trying to choose perfume for a young lady, or a lady of any age for that matter, is just a way to get yourself into hot water. Come now, young Blaine, she's been waiting for how long now? The bird could fly the coop, you know."

"Aw, she wouldn't ... would she?" Blaine said.

"Happened to lots of guys," Old Frank put in. "Why, I remember back in ... "

"Things have changed a bit since the Civil War!" Mike said, and everyone laughed.

But before young Blaine could make a reply, Deana, the proprietess and a championship baker, announced that today she had a special holiday treat, date nut bars with candied fruit. "Kind of a fruit cake except they're bars," she pointed out, and then couldn't help but add, "and you there, young Blaine, listen to a gal who knows the score. You better propose while the proposing's good."

"Well, then," Sal interrupted, adroitly changing the subject, "those bars sound very festive and I'll be sure to take a few home for my wife Sylvia. Of course you boys will be buying because you're not going to solve the problem I brought along today. So much as this discussion is interesting I think we'd best get down to business."

That elicited a chorus of "oh yeah" and "we'll see." But Sal had accomplished his goal. The boys were ready to turn to checkers, likely much to young Blaine's relief.

The long-standing tradition was for Sal to bring along a checker problem; if the boys solved it, Sal bought the treats but if they didn't win it, they would buy for Sal and Sylvia.

"Okay, Sal, put up or ... you know!" Wayne said playfully.

"You're on," Sal replied, and set up the following position on two of the waiting checkerboards.

"Hmm," young Blaine said, anxious not to have the conversation revert to his relationship with Moira. But, when presented with a nice checker problem, the boys weren't about to focus on anything else.

Sal, meanwhile, was looking in young Blaine's direction and smiling, if ever so slightly. He could still remember his days of youthful love. There was an intensity to it that was perhaps suitable only for the young. But there was another reason Sal had changed the subject and directed the conversation away from young Blaine. There were some bittersweet memories that at the moment Sal didn't want to revisit, but couldn't help doing.

He and Sylvia had recently celebrated their 41st wedding anniversary. They were married in 1914. Sal was 28 years old at the time. He had courted Sylvia for a good five years. She had turned 23 and was getting impatient. A young lady of 23, her parents told her, should have been married by now and starting a family.

But Sal was afraid. He was afraid to ask, for fear of being turned down. Until the day he was summoned to the Army, to fight in the Great War, which had just begun.

He was to report in 90 days, and there was no telling when he would be home again--- if ever. It looked like the war would go on for a while, and lives were already being lost. So he scraped together his savings, and went and bought the best ring he could afford. It wasn't much but it would have to do.

Then one evening that week when he and Sylvia had some precious time alone in the parlor of Sylvia's home, where she lived with her parents, all in practically a single breath he told Sylvia of his being called to go to war and then instantly bent a knee and asked her to marry him.

Sylvia looked into Sal's eyes and wept. Finally she said, "Sal, I don't know what to say. I've been waiting so long for you to ask me I was on the verge of telling you we would have to break off our relationship. In fact, I was prepared to do that tonight."

Sal's expression turned from nervous to crestfallen. "So," he said, "you won't accept?"

"You're asking me to marry you and at the same time telling me perhaps I'll become a young widow. Five years of courting, why couldn't you ask me before it came to this?"

Sal didn't respond, didn't know how to respond. Silent, he stayed on one knee, waiting for Sylvia to say more.

"We don't even have time to get married," she said. "You leave so soon." She paused. "I have to think about this. Give me a day or two, would you?"

Sal stood. His voice trembling, he said, "Of course. Whatever you wish." But his heart was about to break.

"I think you had better go now," Sylvia said. "Come back in two nights and I'll give you my decision. Don't get in touch with me or my parents until then."

Sal nodded his head and quietly made his way to the front door. It was a long, cold walk home, but not as long as the ensuing two days would be.

When the 2nd evening came, Sal, his heart skipping beats, willing himself not to shake, made his way back to Sylvia's. She answered the door herself.

"Come in, Sal," she said quietly. She walked with Sal into the parlor and pointed to the sofa. "Have a seat," she said. Sal sat as directed but Sylvia made no move to join him. Instead, she stood in the middle of the room with her arms crossed over her chest.

"I've decided to accept," she said. Sal started to smile and looked as if to speak, but Sylvia didn't give him the opportunity. "I've discussed this with my parents," she went on, 'and they agreed, but they and I are imposing a condition."

"Anything, dear, anything," Sal said but Sylvia had already gone on.

"You must marry me before you report for duty," she said. "That doesn't give us much time, and we'll only be able to have a small wedding with just a few guests and a reception here at the house. We'll go for the marriage license tomorrow."

Then she smiled. "Now, where's the ring?"

They were married just a few days before Sal went off to boot camp. Sal didn't return until the war was over. But he did return.

Sal's reverie was interrupted by young Blaine. "You look like you're somewhere else, Sal," young Blaine said. "But look, we've solved this one."

Sal looked at the clock. An hour had passed. "Show me," Sal said.

---

We can't say if you're in a situation in which you're thinking of proposing to a girl- or boyfriend over the holidays; we suspect that would apply to a rather small number of our readers. But perhaps some of you can recall a past year, whether near or distant in time, when that was the case. No matter. There's a nice sparkly checker problem for you to try. Young Blaine seems to have the solution in hand, and we "propose" that you see if you can match the boys on this one. It's a bit long and a bit difficult but we're sure you can "engage" with it, and then click on Read More to check up on your "proposed" solution and read the conclusion of our story.

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The photo above is of the Three Kings Monument in Chiang Mai, Thailand. It's a fitting header for today's Checker School column in which we present not just one but two problems involving three kings. Not ancient kings perhaps, but kings that figure prominently in instructive endgames.

The following pair of positions appeared in Andrew Banks' eclectic book Checker Board Strategy, which has been the basis of many recent Checker School columns.

The first one is really easy and is sort of a speedy warm-up. It's an illustration of finding a way to draw when a piece down. (Mr. Banks points out, however, that this position couldn't have arisen had not White blundered into it. Well, as they say, anything can and does happen in over the board play.)

The second one will be easy for the experts and good practice for the improving player. Winning three kings against two baffles many a novice, and even a surprising number of players above the novice level.

Give these problems a royal effort, and after you've put on the crowning touches, click on Read More to verify your solutions.

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We're upgrading software versions on our site. While we're doing the best we can to keep everything stable and working, if you notice anything out of line please let us know. Thanks for your patience!

This week The Checker Maven celebrates its 19th publication anniversary, and as we've said every year for some little while, we never expected to get this far, and we wouldn't have without our many loyal readers. We have no timetable and no prediction for how long our column will continue. It depends a lot on your aging editor's health and eyesight, neither of which are the best. All we can do is repeat that we'll go on as long as we reasonably can.

This anniversary we turn to someone whom we see as something of a role model, Bill Salot, who at above 90 years of age is still as active and productive as many who are many decades younger. We present one of Bill's best problems, about which noted problemist Brian Hinkle had the following to say.

"Roy Little and I decided to solve Bill's masterpiece The Clincher together by discussing it over the phone. We worked on it together, off and on, for about two months. I finally came up with the winning theme and shared my solution with Roy and he quickly agreed that I was correct."

This problem first appeared in Elam's Checker Board, April 1962, Page 5260, Scorpion Club Column, where it was called Traveling Man.

Tom Wiswell included it in his The Science of Checkers and Draughts, 1973, Page 46, where he renamed it The Clincher.

Mr. Salot notes, and Mr. Hinkle confirms, "Brian Hinkle took days to solve it."

Obviously this one isn't easy, but please join us in celebrating our anniversary by trying this one out. We're sure you'll like it, and you can always click on Read More to see the solution.

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This column will appear on Saturday of Thanksgiving weekend, 2023. We hope you've had a wonderful Thanksgiving. Perhaps you were off on Friday and are enjoying a four-day weekend. Maybe you participated in the crazy shopping day known as "Black Friday" when, it is said, the ledger sheets of merchants turn from loss (red) into profit (black).

However, and even if you are celebrating, it's a weekend that can always use a good checker problem and maybe you have a little extra leisure time to take one on. We often turn to Tom Wiswell for a holiday problem, so here's a position we think you'll really enjoy.

Mr. Wiswell calls this one "The Gold Brick" and informs us as to its origin.

" ... White has just played 19-16 which allows Black a fine win. XXXX would have drawn, but many experts have walked into this inviting trap ... which originated from some analysis by the author (Mr. Wiswell) and Monte Schleifer."

We've redacted the move that White should have played and leave that as an exercise for the reader.

Try to solve this one. Maybe coffee and slice of pumpkin pie can be your reward once you win it ... or even if you don't, since you can always see the solution by clicking on Read More.

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It was the Saturday before Thanksgiving. The year was 1955 and the place was the Beacon Cafe in the Provident Life Building in Bismarck, North Dakota.

At just after one in the afternoon, the Coffee and Cake Checker Club had started its weekly meeting. The club, nominally led by Sal Westerman, had a number of checker enthusiasts as members, all but one of whom were over the age of 50.

The club meet each Saturday from just after Labor Day to just before Memorial Day, except for holidays such as Thanksgiving weekend.

The "boys" as Sal called them, were all enjoying their coffee. Dan, Sam, Delmer, Wayne, Tom, and Louie the Flash were on hand today. But instead of being deep into a checker discussion, they were talking about the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday. A rather pointed debate was going on about what you should eat on Thanksgiving.

"Turkey, what else?" Dan said, and there were a number of nods of agreement. But Sal was espousing a contrary point of view.

"Now, boys," he said, "I certainly can't argue against the great American tradition of turkey, with lots of stuffing, homemade cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes, and so on, not to mention pumpkin pie for dessert."

As if on cue, Deana, the Beacon's proprietess, called out from behind her serving counter, "Pumpkin spice bars today, boys!"

There were smiles all around as Sal continued, "But my wife Sylvia allows as how she's a little tired of turkey after so many years, and wants to make prime rib instead. She says it's 'festive and celebratory' as she puts it, and 'a nice change from the ordinary.'"

"I like that idea," Deana said. "Are you having a lot of company? With a big crowd, a large turkey is probably a better choice, but for smaller groups a nice three rib roast might be just the thing."

"It's just us this year," Sal said. "Our daughter can't make it up from Washington D.C., and Sylvia's sister Phoebe is going down to Utah to visit with their other sister." Sal almost expressed his relief at Phoebe's being elsewhere, but held back at the last minute. He and Phoebe didn't exactly hit it off.

"Well, then, there you go," said Deana. "A three rib roast will make a great dinner and lots of roast beef sandwiches during the coming week."

A few of the boys said, "I don't know" or words to that effect, but the discussion finally ended with Sal saying, "Thanks, Deana. In any case you can imagine I didn't want to argue with Sylvia, especially after she kind of implied that if I want a turkey I can cook it myself."

Everyone had a good laugh, after which Wayne asked Sal what he had in mind for today's checker problem.

"Here's what I've got for you," Sal said.

The tradition was that Sal would bring along a checker problem for the boys to solve. If they got it, Sal bought the treats but if they couldn't solve it, the boys bought their own plus some for Sal--- and Sylvia.

Sal laid out the following position. "Here you go, boys. It's already one-thirty so let's keep it to no more than half an hour."

The boys all nodded their assent and were soon deep into contemplation.

---

Our Checker Maven staff do sometimes have prime rib at Thanksgiving, but to support tradition, we serve traditional stuffing, even if pan baked, prepared according to a recipe that is at least 150 years old. What do you have for Thanksgiving? Do you stick with traditional turkey or do you serve something completely different? We'd love to hear from you.

Of course first you should tackle today's problem. We promise you it's not a turkey and you won't have any beef about it. See how you do and then click on Read More to see the solution.

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Throwing pitches is a big part of the game of baseball. The heart of the sport is the battle between the pitcher and the batter, and a good pitcher (considering modern baseball contracts) is worth literally many times his or her weight in gold. (180 pounds of gold at the time of writing is valued at about US $5 million.)

Pitches are also a big part of the game of checkers. Pitching a piece, while on the surface a loss of material, can result in a winning situation some moves later--- if it's a good pitch and doesn't let the opponent hit a home run and win the game.

Contest 71, in Bill Salot's superb long running series of checker problem composition contests, involves pitches. The four contest problems can be found here. Be sure to check them out and vote for the one you like best.

As an introduction to the theme, here's an example by noted player, writer, analyst, and problemist Jim Loy. It's an excellent problem which Jim created independently. Unfortunately it didn't qualify for the contest as it had previously been discovered and published with colors reversed by T. Riley, as Problem 513 in Horsfall's Problem Book, 1909.

Will this problem throw you a curveball or be a sinker? We hope it's just a fastball that you can hit out of the park. Take a swing at it and then connect your mouse with Read More to see the solution. After that, go on to the contest page.

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In Simon and Garfunkel's famous song, Mrs. Robinson, there are the famous lyrics

"When you've got to choose
Every way you look at it you lose."

Seems like something that might often apply to our game of checkers, but do the lyrics apply to the following position?

Well, not quite every way you look at it. There's one and only one way to draw in this position. Can you find it? This is not really a speed problem but neither is it too difficult; perhaps it's on the edge between "easy" and "medium." In any case don't be like Mrs. Robinson. Choose but don't lose, then click on Read More to check your solution.

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Recall from our last story that Tommy Wagner, an aspiring young checker player at a high school in central Florida, had made it onto the Varsity Checker Team. But, alas, it was the second team.

Following his initial disappointment at not making first team, Tommy, under the tutelage of kindly old Uncle Ben, a retired professional checker player who wasn't really Tommy's uncle, played out the season with determination and patience. And so it was when fall came around, with the graduation of some top first team players, there were vacancies.

The head coach, Coach Schann, immediately promoted the two top second team players. That left one vacancy, and Coach was frank about not being sure whether Duwayne Zigley, who played fourth board on second team, or Tommy, who played third board, should get the nod and move up to fifth board on the first team.

"We're going to have a playoff," Coach announced. "Four pairs of games over the course of two afternoons. High score gets the position. In case of a tie, preference goes to Tommy, who is currently on a higher board."

At first Tommy thought this was a little unfair. Hadn't Tommy played a higher board than Duwayne the previous year? Still, Tommy knew he and Zigley were very close in skill, and Tommy didn't dare question Coach. Also, Duwayne had been been doing a lot of training with his own private coach, another retired professional named Ginsberg. So Tommy accepted that he would have to earn his promotion over the board.

The match took place and sure enough, Duwayne and Tommy played even; the first seven games were draws! Tommy had Black in the eighth game and only needed a draw to squeak by and make it to first team.

The game played out to the following position with Tommy to move. He was in a little bit of a situation but all he needed to do was find the draw.

The thing was, Tommy had gotten nervous. His next move would make or break his bid for first team, and he knew it. Furthermore, his clock was running down and he had to make a decision quickly.

Finally, Tommy made his move.

---

This is not a difficult problem at all, and well within the reach of a player of Tommy's caliber. Can you match wits with Tommy--- and Duwayne? You likely don't have a promotion at stake, so enjoy the problem and then click on Read More to see the rest of the story, the solution, and many examples of this theme.

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