Bobby Fischer’s 1972 chess match with Soviet champion Boris Spassky was the Cold War played out on 64 squares, a combat of mind games between two masters at the height of their powers.

Fischer called it nothing less than “the free world against the lying, cheating hypocritical Russians,” while the affable Spassky, a world champion backed by an all-powerful, state-sponsored chess machine, seemed just to want to play.

And now Fischer is dead, at age 64, in Reykjavik, the site of his greatest triumph.

The 21-game tournament in Iceland was seen as an intellectual settling of scores between two superpowers, using pawns instead of rockets.

It fell to Fischer — an often obnoxious but brilliant boy who grew up in Brooklyn, New York — to topple the Soviet chess machine.

The Soviet Union had held the chess crown since the end of World War II, with Spassky winning in 1969 by beating Tigran Petrosian in an all-Soviet encounter.

As the undisputed champion, chess authorities organized a new round of matches, known as the Candidates’ tournament, to determine who would challenge Spassky for the title.

The Soviet authorities became alarmed in 1971, when Fischer thrashed Soviet chess grandmaster and concert pianist Mark Taimanov 6-0 in the quarterfinals of the tournament.
Outspoken, cocky and anti-communist, Fischer relished humiliating Russians at the chessboard, in part because he claimed the Soviet players agreed to quick draws in qualifying games between themselves, only to force him to play long, tactical — and physically exhausting — matches.

But this time, the strategy had failed. Fischer’s confidence rose as he crushed a succession of world-class players.

Even worse was to come when Fischer next played Bent Larsen in the semifinals.

The Dane, known for a fierce and freeflowing playing style, was exactly the player to neutralize Fischer’s trademark attacks, which involved employing offensive tactics that aimed to crush opponents, rather than simply defeat them.

Fischer stunned observers by beating Larsen 6-0.

Then he beat Petrosian, who was seeking to play Spassky in a rematch, 6 1/2 - 2 1/2.

That gave Fischer the undisputed right to play Spassky.

By this stage, it was clear Fischer represented the most serious threat yet to Soviet possession of the one international title they coveted most in the game: the World Chess Championship.

If Fischer agreed to play, that is.

Not for the first time, Fischer threatened to boycott the match in Reykjavik after complaining about the prize money and unleashing a huge list of demands for playing conditions, including the exact size and weight of pieces and perfectly measured squares to the nearest millimeter.

London financier Jim Slater offered more prize money. He dared Fischer to play.

Fischer flew at the last minute into Reykjavik’s airport and was met by relieved Icelandic chess officials.

The 29-year-old seemed ready for a match that was front-page news throughout the world. For the first and last time, chess games were watched in bars across the United States.

Fischer lost the first game with a basic mistake.

He fell to the temptation to take a side pawn with his bishop, which was then trapped as Spassky’s other pawns teamed up to punish the intruding piece.

The first game led to complaints by Fischer about television cameras being too close to the players.

For the second game, he refused to leave his hotel room.

For five minutes, Spassky, playing with the black pieces, sat by himself on stage before leaving.

The world championship game officially continued for an hour with no players, and no moves, before Fischer was judged to have lost under the rules.

The game was awarded to Spassky.

At that point the White House, keen to avoid a national humiliation during a presidential election year, intervened directly to persuade Fischer to carry on playing.

“This is the worst player in the world calling the best player,” National Security Adviser Henry Kissinger is said to have told Fischer in a phone call while taking a break from peace negotiations to end the Vietnam War.

Kissinger had made it clear to Fischer what was at stake, according to one local chess official.

“(Fischer) was like a young man going to battle like a soldier, and he said ’I will fight the Russians,’” Icelandic Chess Federation president Gudmundur Thorarinsson was quoted as saying in a later interview.

Fischer was now trailing the world champion 2-0 and faced the next game — with the statistically disadvantageous black pieces.

Worse, as the challenger, Fischer needed 12 1/2  points to win the title, whereas Spassky needed only to draw the 24-game series with 12-12 to retain his title as champion.

Spassky, meanwhile, had also been under pressure to bow out — rather than to continue playing in the circus atmosphere fueled by international media attention, and to risk losing his title to an opponent who appeared to lack respect for the world champion.
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With the future of the match in balance, Spassky agreed to Fischer’s demand that they play the third game in a back room away from cameras.

Fischer won the game, his first ever victory against Spassky.

The two returned to the main stage, but the pressure had taken its toll on Spassky.

Fischer won the fifth, sixth, eight and 10th games, and took control of the match to beat Spassky, 12.5 points to 8.5 points in what became known as the “Match of the Century.”

Spassky lost the final game of the 21 played when he resigned after his 41st move.

He had fallen behind with a restricted bishop for Fischer’s powerful rook, and Fischer upped the pressure, going after Spassky’s vulnerable pawns.

Fischer was world champion.

“Chess is war on a board,” Fischer once said. “The object is to crush the other man’s mind.”

Retired Associated Press correspondent Andrew Torchia, who covered the Reykjavik match, recalled the difficulty in reporting on Fischer at the tournament.

“Sometimes you’d get a question, and Fischer would just look at you — and go somewhere else,” Torchia said.

Spassky was graceful in defeat — too graceful for many back in Moscow who criticized his performance and accused him of failing to cope with Fischer’s prima donna behavior. Spassky eventually became a French citizen.

Fischer involuntarily relinquished his world title in 1975, when he refused to play Soviet challenger Anatoly Karpov.

But the Fischer-Spassky rivalry retained a special place in the often insular world of international chess.

An unofficial rematch was staged in 1992 in Yugoslavia. Fischer again complained about playing conditions, and again won.

But the game was played in violation of U.S. economic sanctions imposed to punish Slobodan Milosevic, then president of Yugoslavia.

In July 2004, Fischer was arrested at Japan’s Narita airport for traveling on a revoked U.S. passport and was threatened with extradition to the United States to face charges of violating sanctions against Yugoslavia.

He spent nine months in custody before the dispute was resolved when Iceland granted him citizenship. Fischer moved there with his longtime companion, the Japanese chess player Miyoko Watai.

She survives him.

“(Fischer) was an exceptional figure, who made his mark not only on the history of chess but on the history of the world,” French chess commentator Jerome Maufras said.

“For some, he was a genius. For others, he was a crazy man.”

Spassky, reached briefly at his home in France, said: “I am very sorry, but Bobby Fischer is dead. Goodbye.”

LONDON

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