In a world exclusive, Richie Kelly recounts his experiences as a contestant on the BBC's Chess Masters series in October 2024. His detailed, humorous and sometimes poignant account lifts the lid on one ex-serviceman's campaign to capture the silverware (or was it chinaware?!) for club and country.
Due to technological issues, Richie's reminiscences will be serialised, but we think that makes them even more exciting! So, without further ado, here is...
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CHESS MASTERS: AN ENDGAME ODYSSEY
by Richie Kelly
Part 1
Prologue
It is hard to believe that well over a year has passed since I was first made aware that the BBC were intending to bring chess back to the small screen for the first time in 30 years, and that they were on the look out for contestants. Not only that, they were especially interested in the “more senior ex-Armed Forces veterans” and the best bit: they didn’t have to be that good at chess!
Now, being ex-RAF, with a tadge of grey finally starting to show up on my jet black hair (!?), and with my best playing days clearly now well behind me, I thought to myself that I fitted the bill quite well.
So it came to pass that an email was fired off to the BBC to express my interest in participating. Hopes were not high as I expected that they would be inundated with applications. And my intel from the Armed Forces Chess Association indicated that many ex-servicemen were planning to “volunteer”.
First on the obstacle course was the application form, dutifully filled in and dispatched. No, not by courier pigeon or Morse code but, again, by this new-fangled email system. A reply was received very quickly and I was informed that I was being selected for interview via Zoom. This was also set up pretty quickly, with proposed filming in Cardiff scheduled to be only weeks away.
A pleasant, informal Zoom chat/interview was held, where else but in my “Chess Shed”. The shed apparently greatly impressed them and I actually think it helped set me apart from some of my rivals.
First stage complete and another, more in-depth interview was set up. This I can gladly confirm, to my Navy friends especially, was successfully navigated.
The First Skirmish
Next up was some test games against their “resident expert”. Matt proved to be a tough opponent but I managed to win the first 10-minute game. Then, I was winning the second one, a 3-minute game, when the other interviewer decided to restart interviewing me in the middle of the game! I was considering saying “Err, hello” etc, but thought this, in itself, could be some sort of test to see how I would react. Indeed, I did “fold under questioning” and promptly lost the thread of the game, blundered and lost – a strategy that I am still good at to this day!
But my performance was deemed good enough to take me though to the next stage and an interview was set up with a psychologist. Clearly, after some high-profile contestant suicides occurring after appearances on game shows over the years, the BBC wanted to ensure they were no issues “up top” to start with. Janet, my partner, took great delight in telling me that “this will be the bit you fail!” She is indeed a WAG in more ways than one!
However, I did not have long to wait for confirmation that, from literally a cast of thousands, I was selected for the show. Once the NDAs were signed online, the whole thing moved at lightning pace.
Setting Sail From Rock Ferry
Train tickets were dispatched and selected embarkation times were clearly done by someone not familiar with the intricacies of travelling with Merseytravel.
Therefore, I decided to ensure I reached my first destination of Chester in time for my trip abroad to Welsh Wales by opting for an earlier train than the one paid for. Unsurprisingly, this didn’t make an iota of difference as I was stranded at Rock Ferry station for around an hour and a quarter before the trains decided to resume.
As I was finally getting off the train at Chester, a message arrived that an old friend of mine had suddenly passed away. Perhaps this added to the confusion of exactly what platform my next train was going from, as I wasn't perhaps fully focused on what the rail attendant had told me.
There had been nothing mentioned of the “Crewe train” on the monitor, and the Brigadoon-esque Platform 7c was nowhere to be seen. By the time I realised the London train from Platform 7 was one and the same as my target, I was able to wave it (not quite so) merrily away, as it vanished into the swirling mists that would not have been out of place in the aforementioned classic film!
And so I resigned myself to another long wait, with the price of a cup of coffee at Chester railway station doing nothing to quell my demeanour. “Not to worry,” I thought, as I practised chess puzzles on the train, only running about three hours late, “and I’ll get the (not) waiting taxi to my hotel and have a few pints and a nice meal on the BBC!”
Soon thereafter Craig, my fellow contestant, whom I had never met before, phoned me, asking all sorts of strange questions about the itinerary for tonight and the next day. In the end, I had to tell him I had no idea and ask why he was asking me, anyway. Turns out they had given him my number by mistake instead of a production assistant’s! A sign of the chaos to come, I should have surmised, perhaps?!
Within minutes, I received a second incoming call, this time from the BBC – can I come straight to the location for more interviews and photos? Well, I could hardly say no and, unfortunately, those long-awaited beers were suddenly also taking on a Brigadoon-like appearance in my mind’s eye, swiftly disappearing over the horizon!
Next morning, at breakfast in the Travelodge, I carefully reconnoitred the dining room looking for any other fellow Contestants who, at this point, were still de facto undercover. I thought that identifying them would be fairly easy to an experienced veteran of many a campaign/tournament such as myself. The person I now know as my friend Thalia was certainly in the firing line as a possible candidate, sitting on the other side of the room.
But who else, I wondered?! Chess players come in all shapes and sizes and any others could, I decided, literally be any of my fellow breakfasters. The thought then occurred to me that my incognito rivals were probably sat nearby, thinking the same thing! I reminded myself of the John Wayne film “The Shootist” where the Duke was sitting alone, away from several solo adversaries in a saloon, just before the real action began. It certainly felt like “High Noon” and it wasn't even 8.30am!
And so, it finally came to be that I was sat in the Green Room of the Coal Exchange Hotel with my fellow contestants (not “competitors” – I’ll explain the relevance of that later!). A bizarre coincidence turned out to be that an acquaintance of mine, a friend of my brother’s, in fact, once owned this same Hotel.
I think it was fair to say that everyone was at least somewhat nervous. Nobody knew how this was going to pan out and the biggest fear for us all was the near humiliation of being the first one eliminated, despite the fact that we had already beaten a cast of thousands to be there.
The production company, Curve Media, and the considerable number of production assistants, runners, photographers, cameramen (or should that be camerapeople in this day and age?) and numerous other trades involved certainly provided an eye opener to the amount of behind-the-scenes work that goes into even a relatively simple TV programme.
I had brought a few chess magazines with me, as I had been warned to expect long waiting times in between. We weren’t allowed to play chess. In fact, they didn’t really want us discussing chess at all, which was certainly a bit tricky with the six of us stuck in the Green Room for large parts of the day. (for Green Room read converted small bedroom!).
But, one of the first things to come up in conversation was the undeniable and understandable curiosity that each of us had about each other: just how strong were they?! When Nessie asked “What, all you guys play at clubs and in tournaments?” and she got the reply “Yes, don’t you?” her reply of “No, not at all. I think they just picked me cos I’m funny” was met with an invisible but gleeful and metaphorical rubbing of the hands which no-one admitted to, but were undoubtedly doing in their private thoughts.
To be continued...!