Chris Depasquale is a man of mystery and intrigue.

Julian
Hodgson, in his video My Success with the Trompovsky,
described him as "New Zealand master Deepaskal", although
conventional wisdom has it that the man who pronounces his
name DEH-PAS-KWA-LEE has neither been to New Zealand,
nor mastered anything.
He first appeared on the international chess scene at the World
Cadet championship in Cagne-sur-Mer, France, in 1977, an
event which featured Kasparov, Short, Morovic and Arnason,
among others. It is not easy to stand out among such a crowd,
but Depasquale made a big splash by forgetting to remove his
glasses before diving into the Mediterranean, the first of many
short-sighted moves he made during that event.
Since then he has represented Australia on numerous occasions,
including three Olympiads.
Depasquale started writing the chess column for Melbourne's
newspaper The Age in 1989, and is still working on it. Without
doubt, then, it will be exceptional by the time he finishes it, but
at least the newspaper has an appropriate name. Seriously,
though, a collection of his weekly newspaper columns, entitled
My 60 Memorable Columns was published in 1995 by Chess
World. We hope Chess Caf readers will enjoy his new
column, View From Down Under...
View From Down Under
by Chris DePasquale
Organising the Perfect Chess Tournament
It was 7.30 pm on Saturday 26 June, two days before the
commencement of the 1999 Australian Masters Chess
Championship tournament, and the organising committee had
gathered in the front bar of the Empress Hotel in Nicholson
Street, Fitzroy.
The Treasurer was there, with reams of computer printout,
covered in figures. These he generates from software he
developed himself, a system which he markets as Mind Your
Own Business But Use Other People's Money . The Treasurer
was feeling quite smug, until the Convenor reminded him that
he hadn't paid out the prize-money yet.
The Secretary was fiddling with a pen and a beer-mat for no
apparent reason. When the Convenor inquired whether he had
remembered to bring the minutes of the previous meetings he
dived into his brief-case, and came up with a dozen other beermats, the underside of each was covered with the Secretary's
indecipherable scrawl.
The Equipment Organiser peered into his empty glass. It was
always the same with him; anything you gave him seem to be
consumed in some way before you could even blink.
The Personnel Manager sighed as he glanced over his lists of
competitors, arbiters, demonstration-board operators, billet
providers, furniture movers, social secretaries and other
assorted hangers-on. This tournament would run so much more

smoothly, he thought, without competitors, arbiters,

demonstration-board operators, billet providers, furniture
movers, social secretaries and other assorted hangers-on. The
Convenor had agreed but, apparently, when the proposal was
put forward, the sponsors had kicked up a fuss.
The Personnel Manager was particularly concerned about the
demonstration-board operators. What was it about these people,
quite competent players in their own rights, that seemed to
make them inherently hopeless at repeating on the
demonstration boards the moves played in the actual games?
As soon as they stood in front of a demo board they seemed to
forget some of the basics, such as White and Black moving
alternately, and the low probability of both kings being in
check simultaneously.
Then he smiled grimly to himself as he remembered. It had
been another pub, another night. He had been about to get in
the next round of drinks when "Felix" (not his real name) had
stopped him. "I'm shouting tonight", said Felix, "what's
yours". As Felix shuffled off to the bar with orders for a gin
and tonic, a rum and coke and three beers, the Personnel
Manager asked the others what Felix was celebrating. It
transpired that Felix had just scored a job as a demo-board
operator.
When Felix returned to the table the Personnel Manager asked
him what had been the toughest part about getting the job. He
paused to think about this, the tray of drinks still held above the
table and said, "Well, it wasn't the written application; I simply
took a photocopy of my last job application, and wherever it
said 'fork-lift operator' I crossed it out and wrote 'demo-board
operator' instead. And it wasn't the job interview; that was a
breeze, which was a little surprising, because when I got home
I discovered I had forgotten to put a battery in my hearing-aid.
I'd say it was the operation," Felix concluded and deposited the
tray on the table.
Quizzical looks emanated from all sides of the table, until
somebody asked the obvious question. "The operation where
they remove half your brain," Felix explained impatiently.
"Now, who ordered the lemon squash and who asked for the
scotch and dry?"
The Bulletin Editor noticed the wry smile on the face of the
Personnel Manager, but said nothing. He had problems of his
own. It was all very well having developed a reputation as a
witty and insightful commentator but, like most of those who
had developed such a reputation in chess circles he had
"borrowed" heavily from those who had gone before. He
smiled inwardly as he recalled the time somebody had queried
that expression "borrowed". He had spelled it out for them: "pl-a-g-i-a-r-i-s-e-d".
Of course, the games themselves would take up most of the
space in the bulletins, but he would need to fill the rest of it
with some sort of announcements, pronouncements and
denouncements. He sighed as he thumbed through the Dubai
1986 Olympiad bulletins, and then spotted one he could use:
"The camel race, which should have been held today, has been

postponed to Wednesday." All right, he thought, that is bulletin

eight out of the way; only three to go now.
The committee went through its checklist of items, making sure
all was in readiness for a perfect tournament, and then I went to
the bar to organise another round of drinks. No further
discussion ensued at the table while I was at the bar. I know
this for certain because, dear reader, I fear I have misled you: I
was the sole member of the organising committee.
That's right. I was the Convenor, the Secretary, the Treasurer,
the Personnel Manager, the Equipment Organiser, the Bulletin
Editor, the All-Of-The-Above. (Bet you they didn't know that
at Addict's Corner!) Being the sole organiser of an event like
this means an enormous amount of work but, on the bright side,
it makes for a cheap round of drinks.
Despite being fairly confident that everything on the list was
covered, I was reluctant to close the meeting before they closed
the bar. So I racked my brain trying to think of anything that
might have been overlooked, trying to recall the minutest detail
of all the outstanding chess events I had participated in around
the world.
Just then the juke-box kicked in, to the melodious strains of Joe
Dolce's 1981 world-wide number 1 Shaddupayaface, and it
occurred to me I had completely forgotten that every great
chess tournament has its own tournament song! Disaster! Just
thirty-six hours to the first pawn being pushed in anger, and no
tournament song! What was I to do?
Brainwave! I could get Joe Dolce to write the tournament song
for me. He is, after all, a local lad and a keen chess player. (Joe
sought me out for coaching some years back and is a regular
customer at Melbourne's Chess World.) My treasurer's hat
came on and my mind raced: what if the tournament song went
to number 1 in Australia, the US and Britain, just like Joe's
1981 hit did? The tournament might break even!
Unconsciously, words popped in to my mind to the tune the
jukebox was bashing out:
Pushuppa your pawn
Lyrics: Chris Depasquale
Tune and Inspiration: Joe Dolce
Whatsa matter you? Eh?
Why you mova the knight?
Whadda think you do? Eh?
It's a terrible plight.
Itsa not so bad
A new idea is born
Ah! Pushuppa your pawn!
Whatsa matter you? Eh?
Why you taka the rook?
Whadda think you do? Eh?
It's all in the book.

Itsa not so bad

A new idea is born
Ah! Pushuppa your pawn!
After the jukebox shuddered to a halt, I halted to shudder. The
reality was as stark as my empty beer-glass: the prospect of
such a song being the 1999 Australian Masters Tournament
song was just too horrible to contemplate.
But I still needed a song! To buy time I announced at the
opening ceremony that this year's tournament song would be
devoted to the tournament winner, and hence would be
unveiled at the final presentation dinner.
My best bet was that top seed, International Master Stephen
"Solo" Solomon would pull through. After Solomon won the
Masters for the third year in a row in 1991, they decided to
devote the 1992 Masters tournament song to him. I would be
able to dust that off and roll it out at the presentation dinner.
Only a few of those who played in 1992 were in this year's
field and, if I left it until late in the evening, they might be too
drunk to notice. For the record (they didn't have CDs back
then) it goes something like this:
The Solomon Song
Lyrics: Some previous Masters organiser
Tune and Inspiration: Monty Python's Lumberjack song
[Solo]
Oh, I'm a Solomon and I'm OK
I prepare all night and I play all day.
[Chorus]
Oh, he's a Solomon and he's OK
He prepares all night and he plays all day.
[Solo]
I check the books, I choose my lines
And play the best I can.
I like to play the Petroff, but not the Caro-Kann.
[Chorus]
He checks the books, he chooses lines
And plays the best he can.
He likes to play the Petroff, but not the Caro-Kann.
Etc.
Then, in round 3, disaster strikes. Playing White against Mirko
Rujevic, Solomon help-mates himself. (See Diagram)
White: Kh4, Rd5, Bg4; pawns - a5, b3, c4, h2
Black: Kf6, Ra1, Bb4; pawns - a6, d2, d6, g6
The game concluded: 62.h3?? Rg1! 63.Bf3 Kg7 64.Bg4 Kh6
65.c5 d1Q 66.Rxd1 g5# 0-1
Worse still, Rujevic (pronounced RUE-YEV-ITCH) wins his

first five games! Not that I have anything against him, but, in
the context of the tournament song, I am reminded of
something penned by Wiley, resident poet of the BC cartoon
strip:
When one does not indulge in prose
One calls it poetry.
It seems absurd to use that word
When nothing rhymes with it!
I spent all of the rest day, and much of the next few rounds
gazing into space trying to concoct appropriate rhyming
couplets. Just when I would be getting somewhere, I would be
interrupted, usually by an opponent saying "You've lost on
time!" (Yes, I was playing in the tournament as well as
organising it, although "playing" might be too strong a word.)
Then, just as I had got used to the "itch" I had to scratch it. IM
Gary Lane defeated Rujevic, and quickly took a commanding
lead in the tournament. He wrapped up the title with two
rounds to spare. Rujevic-Lane (See Diagram)
White: Kf2, Qg3, Rd1, Bd5, Be3, Nc1; pawns - c5, e4, f3
Black: Kf8, Qf6, Ra3, Bc6, Be7, Nh4; pawns - b5, e5, f7
Black embarks on a long combination, forcing a winning King
and Pawn ending. 43...Bxd5! 44.Rxd5 44.exd5? loses to
44...Rxe3 as 45.Kxe3 runs into 45...Nf5+ winning the queen.
44...Rxe3! 45.Kxe3 Qh6+ A mistake would have been
45...Qg5+?? as after 46.Qxg5 Bxg5+ 47.Kf2 Bxc1 48.c6
White's passed pawn decides the game. 46.Ke2 Qxc1 47.Rxe5
Qc2+ 48.Kf1 Nxf3! 49.Rxe7 49.Qxf3 Qc1+ 50.Kg2 Qb2+
51.Kf1 Qxe5 is hopeless for White. 49...Qd1+! 50.Kg2 50.Kf2
Qe1+ 51.Kxf3 Qxg3+ 52.Kxg3 Kxe7 transposes to the game
position. 50...Qg1+! The point is that, although White has
managed to equalise the material, the King and pawn ending is
winning for Black due to his distant passed pawn and more
centralised King. 51.Kxf3 Qxg3+ 52.Kxg3 Kxe7 53.Kf3 Kd7
54.e5 54.Ke3 Kc6 55.Kd4 f6 was the critical variation Black
had to find when embarking on his combination; White is left
in zugzwang and must abandon the c-pawn. 54...Kc6 55.Ke4
Kxc5 56.Kf5 Kd5 and White resigned, as the b-pawn will
promote to a queen. 0-1
Of course, one thing led to another, and I didn't find time to
devote myself to the tournament song. Then, just after packing
up the equipment and the furniture, and before completing the
final round bulletin (to save time I used the camel race
announcement for the third time) with the presentation dinner
still a good forty-five minutes away, a window of opportunity
arose, and the penny dropped.
Gary Lane
Lyrics: Chris Depasquale (with some help from the tram
conductor on my way in to the presentation dinner)
Tune and Inspiration: The Beatles Penny Lane
In Gary Lane we have the winner of the tournament
The very best we've had the pleasure to know.
And whenever he comes back down here

We will have a beer.

In his free time he reported on the tournament,
For the Chess Caf his words were getting back.
And he doesn't even lose with black
In the Ruy Exchange, very strange.
Gary Lane is in our hearts and in our minds.
Here beneath the blue Australian skies
We wait, to welcome back
For Gary Lane there is an ending with a backward pawn
But on the queenside is a passed pawn of his own.
He likes to push it up and make a queen,
That's his winning scheme.
Gary Lane is in our hearts and in our minds.
The scores of happy Melbourne fans
Can't wait to have him back
With his opponents clearly falling by the wayside
Another fan asks him to sign one of his books.
When he gets back he doesn't have to look
He takes the rook.
As Gary Lane outplays and beats another opponent,
We see the scoreboard showing he now has plus eight.
All the others so far behind
With nowhere to go, very low.
Gary Lane is in our hearts and in our minds.
Here beneath the blue Australian skies
We wait, to welcome back
Gary Lane is in our hearts and in our minds.
Here beneath the blue Australian skies
Gary Lane.
Copyright 1999 Chris DePasquale. All Rights Reserved.