I feel a bit remiss about not commenting on Bobby Fischer's passing. As a bookish chess-obssessed kid, I lived for his Boy's Life chess column and, during the "Match of the Century," I was hitchhiking to and from Iowa and the Spassky/Fischer battle of wits was always a safe topic of conversation. (1972 was ground zero for the mainstream born again movement and it seemed like half the people that picked me up wanted a conversion in exchange for the ride. Thank goodness for chess!)
When I moved to New York, I met many chess players who had played Fischer or played in tournaments where Fischer player people on his level. Let's just say that very few of them missed "our Bobby"—but they sure talked about him.
The fabulous Bog of a Bookslut linked to this recollection of his final days in Reykjavik. I believe this is the only place that recorded Fischer's last words, which are pretty touching coming from such a prickly character.
