Newsgroup: it.hobby.scacchi
Titolo: Dracula ( in inglese)

Vi posto questa divertente storiella, con problema finale, che ho per caso
trovato spulciando sul newsgroup inglese.
(The following chess problem first appeared in the Philippines as a featured
article in a private publication more than 20 years ago. The author, who
prefers to remain anonymous, adopted it from a 19th century chess puzzle
with several modifications. Unlike most puzzles, however, this one has a
story to it. What you are about to read is a product of the author's
playful imagination. Any similarity to a person, living or dead, is purely
coincidental ...)
Once upon a time, there lived in Transylvania an evil count named Dracula.
His main sport, as most of us would probably know, was "suckya" (or
sucking blood out of helpless human beings). There came a time, however,
when Count Dracula got bored of all of the nightly gore. He decided to add
more spice to his bloody life by pursuing a new hobby. He wanted a
diversion that was not only intellectually challenging, but also one that
would hone his "killer's instinct". He took up the game of chess.
Count Dracula's chess skills rapidly increased as he learned the intricacies
of the game. Soon he was consistently beating the strongest players in his
neighborhood. Encouraged by his strong performance, he began playing at
higher levels - first against rated masters then later against noted
international grandmasters. From there, the vampire juggernaut was
unstoppable. Everyone who faced the Count was demolished over the board in
25 moves or less. As Count Dracula scored one stirring victory after
another, his arrogance also found new heights. He taunted the world to find
a mortal who could beat him. Or else, he was going to quit chess for "lack
of challenge". Fidd'leDD, the world's chess governing body, offered him
titles such as "International Grandmaster" and "World Champion". But the
evil count vainly declined to accept such tokens of recognition. "I don't
need those titles," he boasted. "You mortals can have them and shove 'em up
your ..."
This insult was the last straw. Is there someone who could beat this son of
a bat? That was the question bugging the whole chess world. No one seemed
to have the guts anymore to play against the count. Those who did came out
dazed, speechless, and eventually quit playing chess. Someone suggested to
match Dracula against Deep Thought but the count flatly refused. He only
played against flesh and blood, not against bits and bytes. The sport was
dying. It needed a flesh and blood hero badly. But who else was there?
Then the world remembered Bobby Fishy, the former American world champion.
He retired from active chess and became a recluse after accusing Fidd'leDD
of being run by the Russian Mafia. But Bobby was the only remaining hope.
The world waited with bated breath as Don Queen tried to arrange a
multimillion dollar chess match between Count Dracula and Bobby Fishy.
After much haggling, it was finally decided that there will only be one
game. And that match would be played in Las Vegas, the gambling capital of
the world.
Bobby Fishy arrived in Las Vegas the day before the match. He was relaxed
and confident. The long years of "quiet inactivity" had not eroded his
chess skills. Unknown to many, Bobby had been playing actively (though
anonymously) by correspondence. He knew the latest opening quirks and his
middle-game and endgame techniques were as sharp as ever. He had no doubt
that he would beat Count Dracula.
There was only one thing that bothered Bobby. As he analyzed the games
Count Dracula played against the world's leading grandmasters, he was amazed
at how those outstandingly fine players committed such "stupid" blunders
right at the opening. He tried to interview those players but they all
avoided him like the plague. All of them stopped playing chess right after
their game against Dracula. They refused to give any comment or
explanation. Shaking his head, Bobby could only wonder why. He then
decided to retire for the night.
At the stroke of midnight, Bobby was awakened by a loud crashing sound. It
seemed to come from outside the window of his hotel room. As he sat up on
his bed, the window suddenly burst open and a gust of cold air quickly
filled the room. An eerie mist of smoke appeared and rose slowly from the
foot of his bed. In a few moments, the smoke encompassed the sinister
figure of a man in a black cape. Bobby recognized him almost instantly. It
was Count Dracula! Bobby quickly edged back towards the headboard. The
sight of Dracula's razor-sharp fangs dripping blood all over the sheets sent
chills up the American's spine. "Wh-what do you want?" Bobby stammered.
"You must lose the game tomorrow and speak to no one about it," said Dracula
in a slow deliberate voice. "Or else, I will find you wherever you are and
bleed you dry!"
After uttering those words, Dracula let out an ugly shriek of laughter. His
figure then began to dissolve in a mist of smoke. As this happened, his
laughter faded into the cold night air. In a few moments, the room was
quiet once more. The window slammed shut and Dracula was gone. Bobby sat
there for a while stunned. He tried to convince himself that it was just a
bad dream. But as he turned his gaze towards the foot of the bed, he
realized that it was no dream at all. There was blood sprinkled all over
the sheets, blood that fell from Count Dracula's fangs. What would he do
now? For hours, Bobby agonized over his decision. He loved the game. But
he also loved his life. Why throw it away over a stupid game? At the break
of dawn, he made up his mind. For the first time in his life, Bobby Fishy
would play to lose.
The day of the crucial match had finally come and Las Vegas was sizzling
with anticipation. A week before, betting odds were lopsidedly in favor of
Count Dracula by as much as twenty to one. But as the day of reckoning
approached, the gap narrowed down considerably. Now hours before the match,
betting odds stood at even money.
Everyone knew that being a totally "night person", Count Dracula only played
after sundown. He claimed that sunlight disturbed his concentration. It
was also bad for his skin. Meanwhile, as the sun began to set over the
horizon, Bobby Fishy looked out the window of his hotel room. His heart
felt heavy as he contemplated the course of action he was about to take. In
an hour or less, he would be playing the last chess game of his life. And
after that game, he would merely be a statistic - one of Count Dracula's
victims over the board who fought, lost badly, and faded into oblivion.
Indeed, what an inglorious end!
Bobby had just turned away from the window when he heard three sharp knocks
on the door. He went to the peephole to take a look. There stood outside
two burly looking men. "Yeah, what do you want?" Bobby called out. "Mr.
Fishy," one of the men said in a thick Italian accent. "We have a message
for you from the hotel management." Bobby unlocked the door. As he was
about to open it, one of the men suddenly barged through throwing Bobby
violently backwards. "Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing?" yelled
Bobby.
"Shut up and siddown." the bigger man said in a calm but authoritative
voice, his finger pointing towards a chair. Bobby knew better than to mess
with this guy. He obediently sat down. The other man closed the door
behind him and stood there motionless, watching silently. The first man now
began to speak. "Mr. Fishy, my name is Clemenza. And that guy over there
is my good friend Tesio. Our boss, the Godfather, extends to you his
warmest regards. He wishes you the best of luck in your game against that
sonofa... I mean ..."
"Okay, okay. I got the message," Bobby interrupted. "Please tell your
boss I appreciate his concern. I'll do my best, okay? Now please leave. I
have a game to play. What the hell happened to my security ..." Bobby
tried to stand up but he was easily pushed back like a limp doll.
"You don't understand, Mr. Fishy. My boss is making you an offer you cannot
refuse. He's got tons of dough invested in you. If you win, we're all
gonna be one big, happy and rich family. But ..."
"But if I lose?"
"Let me put it this way, Mr. Fishy. The Godfather does not like to be
disappointed. He hates losers. He really does. So don't just try your
best. It ain't enough. Make sure you win against that sucking bastard."
"And if I don't?"
"Then I'm afraid you, Mr. Fishy, will have to sleep with the fishes."
Bobby did not need anybody to tell him what that meant. He swallowed hard
and fell silent. Clemenza headed towards the door as Tesio opened it. But
before stepping out, he paused, turned towards Bobby one last time, and
spoke somberly. "I hope you understand, Mr. Fishy. It's only business,
nothing personal." Both men walked out to the corridor and closed the door.
Bobby's head was spinning as he remained glued to the chair. He could not
believe what was happening to him. No matter what he did now, there was no
escape. If he won, Dracula would get him. If he lost, the Godfather's
thugs would hunt him down and waste him. To play for a draw would even be
worse. This would surely piss off both Dracula and the Godfather and Bobby
did not have to speculate what would happen to him. He wanted to run and
hide. But where? Bobby stood up and slowly walked out of the room. The
playing hall was several floors down. As he strolled towards the bank of
elevators, he felt like a dead man.
Bobby entered the playing hall to thunderous applause. But he was oblivious
of the crowd. In his mind, he was no longer the awesome chess gladiator
that everyone perceived him to be. Thoroughly confused, he felt more like a
lamb being led to the slaughter. Count Dracula was already seated at one
side of the playing table casting an amused stare at the approaching former
world champion. Before he sat down, Bobby offered to shake hands with his
opponent. Dracula ignored the extended hand and punched the clock instead.
A grim silence suddenly fell upon the playing hall. The much-awaited match
had finally begun.
Bobby Fishy played the white pieces. But that was only because Dracula
wouldn't have it any other way. The notorious vampire's favorite color was
black. He simply refused to play any other color except that. As expected,
Bobby opened with his patented e4. Dracula immediately responded with c5.
The Sicilian! This was one of Fishy's favorite opening lines. But tonight,
he was in no mood for it. It only reminded him of the Godfather.
The game proceeded along weird lines that completely befuddled the audience.
At one point, White gave up all his pawns recklessly exposing his king. But
when Dracula pressed his attack, Bobby defended brilliantly, narrowly
escaping all of Black's mating nets. This pissed off Dracula who did not
expect this kind of resistance from his opponent. Not to be outdone, the
evil count also exposed the Black king by marching it up the center of the
board towards the White camp. Black was obviously taunting White to go for
a mating attack. "Go ahead, make my night!" Dracula hissed at Bobby. But
Bobby remained indecisive.
The game had now lasted more than forty moves. This was no doubt the
longest game the count had played against any player. Bobby could see that
his opponent was already getting impatient. But the game had to end
somehow - and with it, unfortunately, so must his life. Bobby glanced
wearily at the board to study the position one last time. He had so many
opportunities to end the game earlier. But he could not muster the courage
to do so. Even in the present position, he could see many winning lines but
...
Now wait a minute, Fishy told himself as he suddenly straightened up on his
seat. Is it possible? Fishy looked hard at the board again. He couldn't
believe what he was seeing. For the first time that day, Bobby Fishy broke
into a smile. He then played his move.
What did Bobby see?
White's Position: Kd7 , Qh4 , Rc8 , Rg2 , Nd6 , Nd5 , Bf2
Black's Position: Kd2 , Qf3 , Ra4 , Nb1 , Bd1 , pawns at b3, c3, and d4
Remember:
1. If White loses, he dies
2. If White draws, he dies
3. If White wins, he dies -- unless ...
--------------------------------
Inviato via 
http://arianna.libero.it/usenet/


1. Be3+ Kd3
2. Rxc3+ dxc3
3. Rd2+ Nxd2
4. Qd4+ Rxd4
e adesso sulla scacchiera c'è una croce che ammazza il vampiro
Ho trovato la soluzione pensando a un problema simile citato da Chicco e
Porreca nel libro completo degli scacchi (pag. 485)
Posizione: N7/2p2kn1/Q1r5/2r1pN2/4P3/q3p3/4K3/2R3R1
ciao
-- 
A.