What’s unusual about this position?
Twenty-eight consecutive checks:
1. c7+ N(8)xc7+ 2. bxc7+ Nxc7+ 3. dxc7+ Ke7+ 4. g8(=N)+ Rxg8+ 5. hxg8(=N)+ Qxg8+ 6. f8(=B)+ Qxf8+ 7. Qe8+ Qxe8+ 8. d8(=Q)+ Qxd8+ 9. c8(=N)+ Rxc8+ 10. bxc8(=N)+ Qxc8+ 11. Bb8+ Bxe4+ 12. Nd5+ Bxd5+ 13. Nc6+ Bxc6+ 14. Rb7+ Qxb7 mate
(Composed by Leathem.)
Harold Cross once composed a chess position with 29 possible mates.
In this one, by Henry Dudeney, White can choose among 36 different mates on the move:
If two chessplayers cooperate, how quickly can they reach a stalemate without any captures? Working independently, Sam Loyd, E.N. Frankenstein, W.H. Thompson, and Henry Dudeney all produced the same position, which can be reached in 12 moves:
1. d4 e5 2. Qd3 Qh4 3. Qg3 Bb4+ 4. Nd2 a5 5. a4 d6 6. h3 Be6 7. Ra3 f5 8. Qh2 c5 9. Rg3 Bb3 10. c4 f4 11. f3 e4 12. d5 e3
The 1933 a thoroughbred stallion named Brokers Tip won the Kentucky Derby.
It was the only win of his career.
The image of a man playing chess with the devil for possession of his soul has appeared in many pieces of fiction, notably Ingmar Bergman’s film The Seventh Seal (and later Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey). In one interesting twist that appears in some folk stories, the devil takes black (naturally), and play goes like this:
1. … Nd4+ 2. Kd6 Qxd7+ 3. Nxd7 Rxd5+ 4. Nxd5 Re6
“Mate!” cries the fiend — but then he takes a second look at the board and disappears with a scream:
The annual Leonid meteor shower was unusually spectacular in November 1833, raining a hundred thousand meteors per hour over the eastern United States.
“[There were] thousands of luminous bodies shooting across the firmament in every direction,” wrote the Florence, Ala., Gazette. “There was little wind and not a trace of clouds, and the meteors succeeded each other in quick succession.”
That spectacle is remembered in a unique way — it’s the basis of the jazz standard “Stars Fell on Alabama”:
I never planned in my imagination
A situation so heavenly
A fairy land where no one else could enter
And in the center just you and me
We lived our little drama
We kissed in a field of white
And stars fell on Alabama last night.
Composed by Tolosa.
Solution: Lift the king into the air.
Summon six millionaires and invite them to stake their fortunes on a single hand of poker. They will eagerly agree. Open a new deck of cards, discard the jokers, and ask the millionaires to cut (but not shuffle!) the deck as many times as they like. Then deal seven hands, ostentatiously dealing your own second and fourth cards from the bottom of the deck.
The millionaires may be reluctant to object to this, as all six of them will be holding full houses. (This works — try it.) But “See here,” they will finally say. “What was that business with the bottom-dealing? You’re up to something. We insist that you discard that hand.” Look hurt, then deal yourself a new hand.
You’ll likely be holding a straight flush.
John Cazale is not a household name, but he should be. When the actor died at age 42, he’d made only five films, but every one of them was nominated for best picture:
That alone would have made him unique in Hollywood history, but he added a hat trick. In 1990, 12 years after his death, Francis Ford Coppola used archive footage to include Cazale in The Godfather Part III (as Fredo Corleone).
That too was nominated for best picture.
In this position, composed by Harold Holgate Cross, White has 29 legal moves. What do they all have in common?