The Chess Mind

Here's the quotation, originally given in this post, which was even easier to solve than I had hoped:

Word was getting around about Bobby Fischer. From the first rumors of a talented kid from Brooklyn, he was now appearing regularly at the speed tournaments, and getting progressively better scores. At one point, however, I had beaten him four times in a row, and he cried at least once, revealing the depth of his intensity for the game. But one night at the Marshall Chess Club rapids we played a French Defense and a very peculiar thing happened. In the middle of the game Bobby made a strong move and I suddenly had an almost physical sense of the power emanating from it. And Bobby moved again with the same effect; it was as if he was playing with dynamic rays of force that I had a heightened sensitivity to. It happened once more, and my position was busted, as the coffee house players would say. I never won another game from Bobby, and I wonder if any other players have had this experience while opposing him.

The writer was none other than "Captain" Bill Hook, from his very enjoyable Hooked on Chess: A Memoir (New in Chess 2008), p. 40. The book won't add any points to your rating, but you'll be glad you read it. I'd go further, and call this required reading for non-chess players inclined to write about the game and its aficionados. Hook comes across as a very personable, very human individual, and when he writes about others, even those who might fit the bill for those looking for "weird chess players", he writes about them with (non-condescending) affection and as an equal. An excellent read, especially in contrast with those horrid writers whose imagination is so limited that they feel compelled to repeat for the thousandth time the stories of Rubinstein and Fischer at their worst.

Here's a fun one:

Word was getting around about Bobby Fischer. From the first rumors of a talented kid from Brooklyn, he was now appearing regularly at the speed tournaments, and getting progressively better scores. At one point, however, I had beaten him four times in a row, and he cried at least once, revealing the depth of his intensity for the game. But one night at the Marshall Chess Club rapids we played a French Defense and a very peculiar thing happened. In the middle of the game Bobby made a strong move and I suddenly had an almost physical sense of the power emanating from it. And Bobby moved again with the same effect; it was as if he was playing with dynamic rays of force that I had a heightened sensitivity to. It happened once more, and my position was busted, as the coffee house players would say. I never won another game from Bobby, and I wonder if any other players have had this experience while opposing him.

Who said (or rather, wrote) it?