 In an empty, tree-filled park, an old man sets out a game of chess. Sitting, he puts on spectacles and makes the first move: 1) e4. He removes his glasses, stands, and with the bent shuffle of a pensioner, walks around the table to sit on the other side. He smiles, his eyes brighten, he chuckles and makes his move. He walks to the other side, sits, puts on his glasses, and makes a move. The game continues, and soon Black is shredding White s defenses, taking piece after piece. Soon White is down to his king. Things are hopeless; in fact, White grasps his chest, in pain. Is there any way he can turn the tables on Black, his grinning self?