AS MANY OF you surely know by now, the European Chess Union hasestablished dress-code rules for chess players.
(Okay, some of you don't know - you don't follow chess and youdon't think it's a sport. Well, friends, at a minimum, it's 'mentalsport.' And, as far as I'm concerned, Bobby Fischer was every bitthe athlete that Michael Jordan was; both were hyper-competitive andruthless in their pursuits, plus Fischer was a better trash talker.)
Before we detail the dress code - apparently, the bust line hasbecome a problem - as a former non-grandmaster, let me emphaticallystate my opinion in this sartorial area:
Chess needs a dress code like Switzerland needs a navy.
Poker needs a dress code. At the moment, all the twentysomethingsavants favor shades, baseball caps and hoodies, usually adorned inblack. Card rooms these days look like funeral homes, with chips.
Golf needs a dress code. At the Masters, Ian Poulter was wearingplaid pants and yellow shoes; it looked as if Walt Disney had thrownup on him. Who dresses these guys, Grace Jones?
Tennis needs a dress code. When I turn on the TV and see SerenaWilliams, I'm not sure if I'm watching the French Open or 'ProjectRunway.'
Bowling? Actually, those fellas look fine to me.
(Granted, I'm the last guy in the world who knows anything aboutfashion. At least I have an excuse: I dress in the dark and, forpersonal safety, I do not have any mirrors in my home.)
I last played serious chess in college; I appeared to be behindfrom the beginning of every match. What chance did I have, anyway?Those jokers were all perfecting Moscow Variations of their SicilianDefense while, frankly, I was only in the sport for the ladies.
Nowadays, it seems, the ladies are the problem.
The new dress code covers both sexes, but women appear to theobject of the regulators' desires.
Stunningly, plunging necklines are out - only two buttons may beopened on women's blouses.
Which raises the question: Could a comely female distract a weak-minded male with some strategic cleavage? I guess so. Heck, most menget distracted by the smell of bacon.
But Sava Stoisavljevic, general secretary of the European ChessUnion, told the German website ChessBase that the new rules hadnothing to do with protecting men from themselves; rather, theyresulted from spectator comments on female competitors' outfits.
She also said that limits on short skirts might be forthcoming.
(If these rules had been effect in the early 1980s, my firstmarriage never happens.)
Under the new order, sunglasses and neckties are allowed, hatsand jeans with holes are not. High heels are in, flip flops are out.
And the ECU encourages sports coats for men, which would be fineby me. I have a closetful of blazers; in fact, I've slept in aHarris Tweed for years.
In short, Stoisavljevic wants the game to maintain its modesty.
(This likely will thwart Spike TV's upcoming plans for 'StripChess.')
The ECU rules require 'a pulled-together, harmonious, completelook with colors, fabrics, shoes and accessories, for both men andwomen.' What, suddenly this is Goldman Sachs?
(Actually, that might be a poor reference - I'm not sure thereare any women at Goldman Sachs.)
Stoisavljevic says these rules will restore a sense of decorum;to be honest, I didn't think chess was being run over by Carrot Topand Lady Gaga.
Anyhow, players not properly attired will get a verbal warning,then a second written warning. After this, a breach in the dresscode will send you into the park for your next match.
So far, the chess community has fallen in line; no one's shown uplooking like a Chippendale.
Me? I've gravitated back to my sporting roots: Checkers! We wearwhat we want.
Ask The Slouch
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A. There were better poker players, but few better hustlers andpromoters of the game. And he had countless witticisms. One of myfavorites: 'The population in Amarillo has stayed the same over thelast 50 years - every time some woman gets pregnant, some man leavestown.'
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A. I think it already did.
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A. Actually, a large portion of my reader base is there -Wisconsin has the most couches per capita in the U.S.
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A. Pay the man, Shirley.
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