Now, part of the reason is that I don't play chess. I mean, he's the only bloke I've played against since the I was in the 7th grade and used to play against Tommy Woozlebrock during recess, so I suck. Really suck. And I don't care much that I suck, as chess really isn't my thing. The second thing is that he really enjoyed playing chess and had all these fancy pants Russian stratagem moves all memorized, and whatnot, so, he had some technical knowledge and skill. Me, on the other hand, used the "try to bludgeon him with a blunt object repeatedly until he died" strategy. Indeed, while he would be working hard to setup the famous St Petersburgh Napoleon Misdirection Gambit I would be trying to line up my little dwarf guys for the flying wedge¹ like football teams use on their kick returns.

Now, despite my dismal record many was the time that I would have him on the ropes, as apparently, just like in a real life fisticuffs battle, it's tough to fight a retard who either lacks logic or seemingly laughs in the face of it. But he would usually have the mental fortitude to come overcome any advantage I may have had to defeat me. Except for that one time. That one magical time when I hit him with a Blitzkrieg the likes of which he'd never seen before and he never recovered.