I learned chess from my dad when I was quite young. Even at an early age, chess usurped checkers' position as the coolest kid game. When my classmates wanted to play checkers on a rainy day, I always opted for the chessboard. With a haughty sense of noblesse oblige, I thought that I should teach these youngsters the finest board game known to mankind; I felt that I had learned from the best because, after all, my dad had been in the chess club in high school.
Dad was always willing to play chess with me until the one day when I beat him. Or I should say, he lost to me. Not only did I win the game, but I committed an offense so dastardly it bordered on sacrilege: I captured his queen with one of my lowly pawns. To make matters worse, every time one of his pawns tried to invade my territory to get promoted to queen status, I captured it. I was maybe eight years old at the time. He hasn't played me since.
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