Duel in the Dolomites

Karpov and Korchnoi, no friends, meet again for the chess crown

" Chess," as Mystery Writer Raymond Chandler once observed, "is as elaborate a waste of human intelligence as you could find anywhere outside an advertising agency." Chandler should have spent last week in Merano, the village in northern Italy's Dolomite mountains where the 30th World Chess Championship opened. Defending Champion Anatoli Karpov, 30, ordered that a plywood slab be installed underneath the chess table in the town auditorium. How's that? Well, said Karpov, Challenger Victor Korchnoi, 50, might kick him in the shins.

Karpov beat Korchnoi six games to five in their 93-day 1978 marathon, but not before they exchanged charges about the use of "evil eyes," illegal signals with yogurt cartons, and microphones hidden in chairs. This second championship Karpov-Korchnoi meeting--"K-2" to insiders--is well on the way to becoming as byzantine and acrimonious as the first. The stakes this time: $260,000 and world bragging rights for the winner, $160,000 and humiliation for the loser.

Korchnoi, a burly, voluble Russian defector, arrived from a Swiss health retreat accompanied by an entourage Muhammad Ali would envy. Spokesman Emanuel Sztein sported a Solidarity button and passed out postcards demanding that Korchnoi's son Igor, 22, be released from a two-year prison sentence for draft evasion and that Korchnoi's wife Bella be allowed to join him. Korchnoi's party also included an American yoga instructor, who sat in the first row at the opening game last week wearing an orange sari.

Karpov, a slightly built, coldly articulate Soviet, checked into the Riz Stefanie hotel along with 18 assistants, 4,000 volumes on chess and boundless disgust for the challenger. "Korchnoi must have the right atmosphere to play well," sniffed Karpov. He took the world championship by default in 1975 when the reigning champion, American Bobby Fischer, refused to defend his title. Since then Karpov has played more tournaments than any other modern champion, in an apparent effort to legitimize his easy accession to the crown.

Korchnoi is described even by friends as paranoid. He refuses to drive in his adopted Switzerland because, he says, the KGB would arrange an accident. Since his defection, the Soviets have attempted to boycott every tournament he has entered, except the world championships. Korchnoi's complaint: "Karpov is a little boy. I know of no other player with such poor end-game technique."

Technically, a Karpov-Korchnoi game is the equivalent of a Dallas Cowboys-Oakland Raiders Super Bowl. Karpov is his sport's Tom Landry, precise and by the book. Korchnoi plays with creative abandon, moving "out of book" into unexplored permutations. A book play proved crucial in the match's opening contest. Korchnoi made questionable exchanges at moves 10 and 12, allowing Karpov to execute a centerboard attack on the 24th move. Korchnoi resigned a hopeless position after the 43rd turn.

Experts favor Karpov over the long haul. The fact that the champion is 20 years younger than the challenger could be decisive. Observes Argentine Grand Master Miguel Najdorf: "If you're an old man, you can't play chess like a young man." In any case, Korchnoi is not planning to leave soon. The warm fall rains are just beginning in Merano, but Korchnoi brought with him three pairs of skis.

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