My father taught me the game Slobyash when I was very young. I wonder how many of you have ever heard of this game before? It is almost exclusively played in bars, and perhaps large noisy parties. You won’t see it any chess, GO, or board game club. There are no international tournaments or whiskey endorsements for the game of Slobyosh. And one thing that is definitely certain, YOU have never played it.
What is this game you have neither heard of nor played? Well, let me put it this way—although I know without having ever met you that you never, not even once, played Slobyosh, there is I suppose a minuscule chance that you have pretended to play it.
You see, my father taught me Slobyosh as a boy. He and my uncle took chess lessons during the height of Bobby-Fisher-fever in the 70s, and that is also when my father started playing Slobyosh. Thanks to Bobby-Fisher-fever people were starting to play chess in places like bars, and then once in a while other board games popped up too (backgammon had a moment of popularity at the same time). It was in this context that my father would occasionally break out Slobyosh.
Imagine 2 competitors, sitting across from each other, intensely studying the arrangement before them. Silence surrounds the table, even if the ambient noise of the bar is loud. This little scene attracts attention. There is, after all, Bobby-Fisher-fever in the air, and two or three onlookers appear. After a moment of respectful silence, someone will ask, with all sincerity, “What are they pl---” to which one of the players will say in an awed voice, “Shhhhh, he just played the Lithuanian Gambit, he’s about two moves from a Grand Slobyosh. Nobody’s seen a Grand Slobyosh since they play one in Budapest back in ’52.” “Sorry,” the person mutters.
You still don’t have the whole picture, do you? Arrayed before the two players, in some random but meaningful (Yes, I just said that--“random” and “meaningful”!) are the various condiment containers of the table. Salt and pepper shakers are like pawns, ketchup and relish take on the life of GO stones, or checkers, or any other “real” game. Any handy items might be in use, such as shot glasses, or quarters. For Slobyosh is NOT a real game my friends. It is an elaborate performance of a game, undertaken for the amusement of those “in” on the joke and befuddlement of those who don’t "get it.”
"Why?" you may be asking. So aren’t we all! You might as well ask, “Why Andy Kaufman?” or “Why Groucho Marx?” Or “Why ‘The One-eyed One-horned Giant Purple People Eater’?” As Yoda’s lesser-known comedian cousin Yuckles might say, “There is no ‘why’ - there is only multiple realties, not all of which need to make sense, wakka wakka.” If you’ve never played Slobyosh, give it a try.
One safe bet is that when you looked up the blogs on the AGA website today, you didn’t expect to see something about professional wrestling. Nor Slobyosh. Yet, something about a game of Slobyosh reminds me of a professional wrestling match—something IS going on, but what. Both resemble a competition but in a fashion reminiscent of the uncanny valley, they don’t quite seem right either.
And Slobbish and professional wrestling are both etched in my mind, twins of a fashion, as it is not only my father who taught me Slobbish but furthermore my father is also a professional wrestler (now retired). And something about the performativity and uncertainty and “Andy Kaufman” of all this, most importantly, applies to this essay. This essay appears to be one thing, humourous musings on the game of GO, the Lithuanian Gambit, and the figure-four leglock, it is in fact something entirely different which none of you noticed—an homage to my father.