As a pre-teen girl (before I was too cool for these sorts of things), I suffered through many a chess match with my father.  We toiled for what seemed like hours after dinner over the wooden board, and the most exasperating part was the realization that he knew my every move before me. There was nothing like that pregnant pause when I made (or started to make) a move, and he would say “Are you sure?” Well, drat.  No, I wasn’t - I was rash and going for the win, of course. Years later, I ... View Post