EPT
English isn't my natural language, so if you find any mistakes, please PM me so I can fix. Thank you.
Thank you for recognizing me
The famous Moscow Blitz Chess Tournament was my objective. My opponents demanded me a special preparation. The advent of computers made chess databases easily accessible, greatily reducing the necessary time to be in perfect shape. More than ever, the ability to calculate became a fundamental skill for the player.
And I was very confident. Little by little, chess was becoming my second nature. To calculate answers to the challenges offered by the opponents was like breathing. One by one, I solved everything that was offered to me.
But then a old man that I didn't immedialy recognized sat down in the other side of the table. He was my last opponent. His appearance was of sickness and tiredness. It was horrible. But his eyes kept the flame that identifies and defines something as human.
Early on the first movements I was already in trouble. That old man was agile. His game was different from everything: it was spectacular, dramatic, devoted to attack. In no time, the old man's cavalry was threatening my king.
The pandemonium was unleashed in the hall. The world champion was cornered by a sick old man. While the audience watched everything in awe, I felt like in heaven. It was a gigantic pleasure to analyze and calculate the challenges offered by the old man. He went to the point of sacrificing a piece to get into a labyrinthine position that few would dare, fearing they wouldn't be able to find the exit. I manage to defend my pieces, but the time in my clock ended. The old man won. The reason is very simple: while I calculate chess, he simply sees it. His vision was out of this world. The form of a player is momentary; the class, eternal.
I shake his hands, happy to have experienced that. And so I recognized him. I'd never forget the touch of that hand. For it was Misha's hand - whom I greeted when I was only ten - that showed me for the first time what is chess when played by grandmasters. At that time, defeated by him, I felt both an overwhelming pressure that made me want to stay away from him and a desire to be always by his side. It was him, Misha, the magician of Riga.
I called him by the name. Tired, he said "thank you." "For what?" I replied. "For recognizing me"
![[image loading]](http://www.chessbase.com/news/2012/misc/taldeath05.jpg)
PS: One month before dying by liver failure (in June 28th, 1992), Mikhail Tal ran away from the hospital where he was to play the Blitz Chess Tournament in Moscow. There, he played his last match and won against Garry Kasparov.
![[image loading]](http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xtXedngg3Vk/T_GyI6-4XSI/AAAAAAAACw8/h62Zd6a7YCk/s1600/tahl.jpg)
