Jimmy Adams

His dad quit home when he was only two,
A father’s guiding hand he never knew.

He drifted with his mum and sister Joan,
From coast to coast trying to find a home.

In New York City then they settled down,
Above a candy store in the heart of town.

While mum was out at work doing her best,
The kids played games – and one of these was Chess.

Though young in years Bobby found himself,
This was his scene and there was nothing else.

He got a one-track mind like never before,
Playing with the Chess set from the candy store.

 At fourteen years of age we saw R.J.,
The youngest ever champ of U.S.A.

Got his Grand Master title that same year,
A Candidate! – world title now how near?

Playing in Europe, Argentina too,
His scores were good; his skill the whole world knew.

The Candidates provided for his greatest test,
The Russians set back this kid from the West.

So saddened Bobby had to make a new start,
Restored morale by dressing himself smart.

Looked a lot better in a suit and tie,
That school kid image – it just had to die.

Quarreled with mother and she went away,
He’s been a loner since then to this day.

 Tying with Spassky down in Mar del Plata,
He finds respect for a real worthy partner.

Then Buenos Aires, though it sure was strong,
In placing him thirteenth showed something wrong.

He simply said the lighting was too poor,
And didn’t talk about it any more.

In the Leipzig Olympic the States took place 2,
Bobby scored high, his bad form was through.

 Now the two finest players the States had,
Fischer, Reshevsky: it could not be bad.

To match them: scores with five games yet to go,
Were level but a quarrel killed the show.

To play in mornings Fischer won’t consent,
He didn’t show up always said what he meant.

The organizers wrote in a nought by his name,
And Bobby walked out after that fateful game.

He got a raw deal from the world Chess press,
The truth or false was anybody’s guess.

Over to Europe for Bled ’61,
Tal was tops but Fischer had his fun.

Three mighty Russians crumbled at his hands,
He satisfied himself and pleased his fans.

Shouted the message for everyone to hear,
Stockholm Interzonal two and a half points clear.

With the Candidates ready Curacao was set,
All eyes on Bobby for his best show yet.

But things happened then that could hardly be true:
For three times he lost before a quarter through.

He never got over that appalling start,
Though he fought like a lion and played out his heart.

Too many Russians stood in his way,
Soviet roadblocks kept him at bay.

 Behind the Curtain more Olympics came,
For mixed results a bad cold got the blame.

He broke just even in the final group,
But should have had Botvinnik in the soup.

One careless move, the win was there no more,
With Geller’s help the old man got the draw.

 Fischer back home retained his U.S. crown,
Bisguier came close but Fischer put him down.

Then Bobby dropped out of the big-time scene,
Toured giving simuls, wrote for the magazine.

Decided to give the tournaments a rest,
Trying to figure out what to do next.

 Next U.S. Championship he played real mean,
Gave away nothing – his score was clean.

Eleven straight wins with no reply;
This page in history will never die.

But the Brooklyn boy was hard to please,
He wouldn’t play without appearance fees.

No Olympiad or Interzonal in ’64,
Preferred the dollars earned by going on tour.

 The Capablanca Memorial he wished to try,
Though tension with Cuba was running high.

The State Department had a man-size moan,
So Bobby played the games by telephone.

Trailed the winner – had half a point less,
Fischer never liked being second best.

Next year’s Piatagorsky was held in L.A.,
Conditions were right so he agreed to play.

At first his lack of practice had to tell,
But once he started he gave everybody hell.

Though ice-cool Spassky took from him first prize,
He cut the others down to size.

 Olympiad at Havana, backed his team,
At top board scored 15 from seventeen.

Eight times the champion of the land of the free,
Old-Timer Bobby now aged twenty-three.

They said Prince Ranier wrote him a letter,
An invitation to Monaco for the Chess trend setter.

Gentleman Bobby just couldn’t say no,
And sure broke that bank at Monte Carlo.

Another first in Skopje too,
To finish anywhere else just wouldn’t do.

But he had a bad habit of losing to Geller,
Could do nothing right against that fella.

People still talk about that row in Sousse,
Things started quiet then Fischer cut lose.

His religion required some changes in play,
He’d never play upon his Sabbath Day.

But the organization was pretty rough,
New arrangements made weren’t good enough

For Fischer – none really knew why.
He quit while leading – all said what a pity!
Took the first flight back to New York City.

 Again lost interest in the tourney trail,
But barely six months later, in Israel,

Had little trouble winning grandly there,
An easy first with three full points to spare,

Soon after at Vincovci, more success!
Bobby goes out to win and nothing less.

Then came another disappearing act;
An eighteen-month lay-off as a matter of fact.

Brought out his “60 memorable games,”
Wins, draws and losses against all big names.

 Match of the Century: back with a bang,
To help the World against that Russian gang.

He handed over top board to give Larsen a break,
Then said next day he’d made a great mistake.

 500 miles an hour was Bobby’s creed,
The fastest clock alive – a king of speed.

Five minute Chess was his top specialty,
Blitz World Champion was a reality.

In Yugoslavia Bobby had got it made,
He was a hero there wherever he played.

A powerful Zagreb Tournament of Peace,
Bobby was winner with considerable ease.

Chess fans loved him, the girls did too,
Marriage proposed by chicks he never knew.

Back to Buenos Aires to erase the past,
Time for the return had come at last.

Ten years after there was no repeat,
He came way out in front – revenge was sweet.

Siegen

 Fischer and Reshevsky in the same side,
Yankee confidence was hard to hide.

But an Olympiad victory was not to be,
Bobby went wrong against super Spassky.

Made no excuses, beaten fair and square,
Nobody was around to answer his prayer.

The Interzonal