Jay Walley

Growing up, my family was always into games - board games, card games, whatever. I remember my parents and grandparents playing bridge, as my younger brother and I would sit on their laps or hang on the edge of the table. We had no idea what it was all about, but we wanted to be a part of it.

When I was seven- or eight-years-old, my dad gave me a chess set for Xmas. I was so excited to learn the game. I used to wait for him to come home from work so we could play. We probably played for six or seven months, until I finally won a game. I was ecstatic! I started dancing and screaming and celebrating my win. A ‘60s version of trash talking.

My dad just sat there, appalled with my behavior. When I was done showboating, he looked at me and calmly said, “That was the one and only time you’ll ever beat me, because I’ll never play with you again.”

Years later when I was in college, a lot of guys on my floor played chess. Dad always wanted to hear about the games, but he never played with me again.

My dad was a tough guy. He held his ground and taught me the importance of being a good sport.