Over twelve thousand years ago a great flood rushed in over the mountains, filling Missoula Valley up with icy cold water, creating a massive lake called Glacial Lake Missoula. There were mermaids and sea monsters, all kinds of fantastic creatures. One of the most legendary was a famous Octopus, Greg. He learned to play chess when he was just 9 years old. He’d play with the salmon, the squids and the whales. He wasn’t choosy about his competitors. He just loved the squares that made up the board. So concrete, so black and white. If only the world could be so clear and concise.
He decided then and there that playing chess was his one true calling. He would devote all his days and years, his whole life to this singular goal, of becoming a great chessmaster and playing as many games as his life would allow. He delighted in the different, suspenseful stories each game told. He relished getting to know each pawn. Every corner and hallway of each castle. The quick, clever queen and the noble, dark knights. He marveled at how they each had their own special way of moving through the world, very much like himself.
Octopuses, and Greg was no exception, crawl along the ocean floor, powerfully pulled by the suction cups gripping coral and rock. He can, to this day propel himself swiftly when he needs to move fast. He shape-shifts like no other. With no bones to limit him, he transforms into a torpedo, slicing through the water, squirting jets from his bag-like body.
Some say bones make animals strong and give them shape, but his strength is actually greater because he has no bones at all. He can squeeze through a ring the size of a quarter. He can change his color to camouflage himself when he wants to disappear. He can swim any direction, with brains in his hands, he mirrors himself in motion with no shell for protection. Though he can move fast like a jet, he usually slinks slowly as if he had nowhere to go, just thinking his odd octopus thoughts. Thoughts animated by imaginary black and white battles in his head.
Like most octopuses, Greg has three hearts and nine brains! The three hearts make him kinder than most. And the brains, well obviously, make him clever. He actually has a brain for all eight of his tentacles! He uses all these brains to do the one thing he loves most, playing chess. A little known fact, Greg is actually royalty (of Missoula at least), blue blood through and through. It gives him oxygen when the water gets cold. Like other Octopuses he is smart, boasting a bigger brain than most animals.
So being a royal and a big brained swimmer, Greg had it good in his Missoula marine life, playing chess and floating about in the aquatic paradise. But as you will discover, all things in life change. And after some time, all the water in Missoula Lake dried up, leaving the water folk to roam the land by foot.
And as the Octopus evolved, he’d lose a tentacle here and there. He feared he might die. One day he was shocked to look down and see he’d sprouted some legs and could breath in the air. Now he could live on land and move in unimaginable, new ways. He didn't mind all these changes, but he hated wearing shoes and got wistful sometimes thinking of the waterlife he had once known.
But after he grew legs as the world dried up, he began to forget he used to be an octopus. He would look around the world he used to know so well. He didn’t recognize the sea floor as it was now cement sidewalks, all the coral turned to cars. He was melancholy and alone.
One day a small girl appeared with a chess board under her arm and challenged him to play. Their match was so good it attracted a crowd ewing and ahhing at each thrilling turn. More children gathered around him, all wanting to challenge him to his next game of chess.
He did not want to leave any child out, for he understood how it felt to be without a playmate. Therefore, he agreed to play with several children at the same time. Each child ran home and returned with their chess boards under their arms.. They sat on the playground, all around Greg.
A strange thing happened as he moved from game to game, his two arms transformed into tentacles. And his two arms now multiplied into 8 small tentacles. Each arm, since it had its own brain, could play a game of chess with each different child! Simultaneously he played 8 games at once. From a bird's eye view he looked like the center of a wheel with each tentacle becoming a wavy spoke. He was so joyful he actually levitated slightly above the cement. It reminded him of being underwater. This was when he remembered where he came from! Who he was and what he loved most.
From that day on, he would float from bakery to library, clubhouse to community center bringing with him an open invitation to any stranger who wanted to play. He was kind, yes, but also he did love competition, and what was the fun of not trying to win? So for years and years, though warm hearted as he was, he would quietly clobber his opponents game after game.
When he was still a young octopus, with octopus ambition, unable to find a worthy opponent in Montana, he ventured out into the world. He settled down in Milwaukee for a while back in the 60s. Those were the days! He would fly to a different city each weekend to play different beings.
You may think octopuses can only swim, but some actually fly. He was one of them. Propelling himself New York to Toronto, Toledo to Montreal, he even once flew to Tampa Bay Florida. By trains or tentacles, he cruised Los Angeles to Las Vegas, Denver to Detroit. Eventually he grew tired of the travel and tickets, layovers and jet lag. And, as many people find, as they get older in life, Montana calls them home. It beckoned him back to the lake floor of Missoula, though it was dried up and had changed in little ways from the place he’d once known. He found the spirit of the city was, at its core, the same. It was still the same familiar, magical place that had shaped him into the octopus he had become.
From then on, he stayed in Missoula. There were sacrifices, of course, any Montanan will tell you that. There aren’t the riches you’d think to be found in the treasure state. Not the financial ones anyway. And though he had great talent, skills don’t always pay the bills. But he was determined he would be no pawn to the man, no cog in the machine, no brick in the wall.
There were many a day when pennies were few and ends barely met. But in the garden city there are priceless wildflowers and abundant butterflies that delight the soul as few places can. So it was without regret that he sold some household goods here and there, his heirlooms and trinkets from travel in order to feed himself and to own his own time. It was a little price to pay to live in the best place on earth. And he was successful at always keeping a roof over his brilliant, bald head.
He wandered from coffee shops to cafeterias, table tops to tack rooms. Anywhere he could round up a player or two. He stumbled into a Staggering Ox and almost got a membership with the Elks. (But neither Ox nor Elk are very adept at the game of chess.) He instead chose to rule his own kingdom, the land of the Clandestine Chess Club of Missoula. (Clandestine means secret, but don’t tell anyone.)
He outlived the ice cream from Goldsmith’s, The Crystal Theater popcorn and the Chapel of the Dove. He gobbled Freddy’s Feed and Read and that tasty, plump Red Bird. Yes, the Octopus outlived many beautiful Missoula dinosaurs. Greg, this lone aquatic mathematician remained, vital and vibrant, as though he hadn’t aged a day in a decade.
And though he doesn’t beat anyone too fast, be warned, he seldom loses. Sometimes it’s over in minutes but with a worthy opponent, a single chess game can last for days, even years. He once played an Austrian named Rudy who taught him about sacrifice in the game and in life. Rudy taught him to play the opening like a book, the middlegame like a magician, and the endgame like a machine. It always works like a dream.
Keep an eye out for Greg on holidays. On some he is camouflaged, completely out of sight. For no one knows who he plays at Christmas when we all go to our warm, family homes. But watch out especially on Valentine's Day.
Perhaps you've heard of the Valentine’s Day Massacre of 2002? What happened that night is whispered with trepidation among chess players all over the world. Unnameable horrors and monstrous moves occurred that night. The Octopus must have been feeling insatiable for the two loves of his life. Both for winning and for the game of chess itself. There’s many questions and rumors of what actually happened. But what is known-is that on that night meant for love, for candy, flowers and sweet cuddles, ink was spilled. It was a night of true infamy. It was as though a fountain pen accidentally exploded on an unsent love letter; dark oil erasing all each tender sentiment.
The opponents lined up, outside the door curling like a tentacle around the block. Like cattle to a slaughterhouse, they waited patiently, eyes wide and eager, never imagining what lay for them upstream. There, in the highschool cafeteria, blue black ink puddled all over the floor, like blood on a battlefield. All around the Octopus, whichever direction he turned, enemies fell.
After the games were all finished, pieces were toppled all around, piled high in the air. Rooks were ransacked and bishops beheaded. Pawns were pulverized and Queens lost their thrones. Kings fell all around, for that dark February 14th, the Octopus must have been starving. Much more ravenous than usual. And player by player he had gobbled them up. Devouring his prey, every last enemy ingested in haste. The ink was blood dripping on the checkerboards all around him.
But that was the only time The Octopus was ever known to be vicious. It's not his nature to be cruel. Every other holiday in all the history of holidays, when he is seen out in public, he’s always playful and polite. Especially look out for him on New Year's Eve. This night is his favorite night of the year. And he celebrates with chess, the past and the future; the game he loves best.
That’s when his tentacles grow out of control. He might tell you he got his name because of his strong chess offense but don’t believe him. We all know it’s because he grows all those tentacles. Witness it for yourself-if you dare, on this special, bright night.
He thrives, with exploding fireworks in the background, his opponents lineup, young and old, hobbyists and experts alike. To be played by him, slayed by him, exhausted in war. Exult with him in the game. In another new year, the possibilities of matches to come. Though he is joyful in play, there is something melancholy about him. The loneliness that only a big fish in a small pond understands. Some believe he is, after all these years, still searching for a perfect opponent, one who is matched in talent and temperament.
Keep an eye out for The Octopus, the next time you find yourself in Missoula. He slinks on sidewalks all over town. Just ask around, you’ll hear of frequent sightings of that mysterious man, part-human, part-fish, the marine master of chess.
So study smart moves, get to know all your horses. Get the knack of the knights and see how the bishop keeps close to the royals. Notice how rooks look like crows and can move without jumping.Take your time, learn the pieces well. And who knows? Perhaps you will be the Octopus’s next opponent. One day you might look up from your board and be across from him. Then you, too, can witness the Octopus doing what he does best.
But watch out, because as his appetite grows, as it inevitably will, he will eat you without a second thought. As he always has, as he always will, when he again hungers for that sweet taste of victory.