Human Race Relying On Kasparov
Of all the complex moral and ethical questions surrounding the chess match taking place in Philadelphia between the world champion, Garry Kasparov, and a computer yes, I’ll wait while you read that again; yes, a computer the question that intrigues me most is about the prize money. The winner of the six-game match is supposed to get $400,000; the loser, $100,000. What exactly does the computer plan to do with the money, take a relaxing vacation at a Jiffy Lube in the Bahamas?
Garry Kasparov is the highest-rated player in the history of chess. And he’s playing chess against a machine.
For big money, honey.
“Ha! You call that a Ruy Lopez gambit, you bucket of bolts? I’ll play the Sicilian Defense and you’ll find a mouse head on your keypad.”
Most of the time in sports when we think of playing against a machine, we think of the Big Red Machine, or a well-oiled machine - not some laptop.
(For those of you who haven’t been following the chess match, let me bring you up to date: Be3 cxd4; QEII MM7; UCLA74 UAB59; Rc4 Bxf6; DeB22 WCF10; Kd3 kdlang; OU812; RU-486 On2 Hut-Hut.)
Kasparov is playing against an IBM computer known as Deep Blue, presumably to distinguish it from the toilet bowl cleanser, Big Blue. And, of course, from Vida Blue. And whatever it is, it can wait till the morning, haven’t we both got better things to do midnight blue.
I thought Jesse Owens running against a horse was cheesy. At least they were on the same track. Kasparov sits in Philly and makes his move - and the computer is in Yorktown Heights, N.Y. (So I guess if you come and watch Kasparov play, you ought to get the ticket for half price.) It’s sort of like the way Frank Sinatra recorded “Duets.” He sang his part, then shipped the tape to the person singing the other half, and he or she sang, and returned the finished version to Frank.
Normally I’d say that not being in the same room with his opponent would be a disadvantage for Kasparov, because then Kasparov can’t look him in the eye or smell his fear. But in this case, what eye are we talking about? And what smell of fear? They probably coat the computer with Brut.
The intrusion of technology into sports is not without its problems, as you can tell from the recent drug-testing controversy with 15-year-old U.S. Olympic swimming hopeful, Jennifer Foschi, and Australia’s world champion breaststroker, Samantha Riley. As a rule, whenever an athlete tests positive for anabolic steroids, he or she embraces one or more of these five classic defenses:
1. I never knowingly took the drug.
2. The test was flawed.
3. It wasn’t performance enhancing.
4. It was cold medication.
5. Someone sabotaged me.
The Foschis took 1 and 5. Riley chose 3 and 4. Butch Reynolds, you’ll recall, used 1 and emphasized 2, the machinery be damned. (Just once I’d like to hear someone say, “I was stoked so high on steroids that my biceps looked like butternut squash. When I took the urine test, man, I lit up that beaker! Folks hadn’t seen anything so bright since Fox put that comet tail on the hockey puck.”)
It may well be that machines hold the key to the future of sports. If this computer pounds Kasparov, which team or which owner is going to have the vision to get ahead of the curve?
Look, Art Modell needs a coach for his football team. Don Shula already has turned him down. A lot of people assume Modell is going to turn to Ted Marchibroda, another former Colts coach. But why wouldn’t a guy like Modell, whom nobody likes anyway, take the plunge, and hire a computer to coach his team?
The plays are sent in from upstairs anyway. What’s the difference if they’re sent in from Yorktown Heights? I’m sure the press would prefer talking to a computer than to Bill “Captain Bligh” Belichick.