About five years ago, we had a wonderful winter at Klaudio’s. Nearly everyone in town played chess every single night. It was a winter to remember. After at most a month, we knew who was who, too. A few of the players were superior to most others, a few were inferior, and there was a large and comfortable group somewhere between these two extremes. That is where I found myself. My love of chess is not matched by my prowess. Far from it.

One fine evening someone brought Svetozar Janković from Livade to Klaudio’s. A beekeeper of some renown, he makes honey. And lots of it. He was more than tipsy that evening, but he wanted to play. I was available, and he told me over another drink that he used to be rather good at the game. As soon as we started playing, I got the upper hand. I took his rook, but he paid no attention to it. I took his bishop, but he hardly noticed it. I cleaned him up, but he was calm. I even took his queen. “Tell me,” he would squint from time to time, “which is your king and which is the queen?” And then he checkmated me. I was stunned. He was not tipsy enough, I concluded. As a matter of course, I asked for a rematch.

This time around the victory was mine, I assured myself. He cannot possibly win twice in a row by the same method. I realized he was pretty good at chess, but his tipsiness was in my favor. The game proceeded just like the first one, though. I took almost everything he had. “Tell me,” he would squint every so often, “which is your king?” To my astonishment, he checkmated me again. And then he waved everyone goodbye and meandered his way out of the café.

Yesterday I told Arnold Trampe about this debacle as we were sitting at Miško’s. Five years hence, I am still amazed by Svetozar’s prowess in chess. As well as by my own lack of talent. When I returned home, I searched for the story about our match. I could not find it, though. This morning I searched for the double checkmate once again, but with the same result. Astonished once again, here I am in a belated attempt to rectify my untoward negligence. How could I possibly skip such a wonderful story? God only knows. Most likely I retold it so many times to all and sundry that I thought I had written it down, as well. Anyhow, all the glory to Svetozar the beekeeper!