The audience began to get restless. They know my reputation and the reputation of Mas Pulung. They want a more exciting spectacle. Mas Pulung threatens my Knight at the forefront of the battle using his Bishop. The Knight was indeed not guarded. But it was too late.
I let my Knight be threatened and moved my Queen into a long diagonal step from the back line. This time Mas Pulung really couldn’t not move anymore.
“Check, Mas,” I said to him.
Mas Pulung moved his King to escape. He took a diagonal step for his King. I touched my horse threatened by the Mas Pulung’s Bishop. The Knight threatened Mas Pulung’s King with his current position,
“Sorry,” he exclaimed. I only smiled.
“For goodness sakes, my King is dying,” Mas Pulung exclaimed pitifully.
The audience moved closer to our table. My Islamic Religion teacher who became the referee and noticed our appearance from the beginning chuckled in awe. What a dramatic game and a drain on the audience’s emotions. It’s drained my emotions too.
“Why, that’s how the story?,” protested some spectators. They wanted to know how the origin until finally Mas Pulung lost so quickly. Less than twenty steps.
Mas Pulung was very embarrassed. He churned the chess pieces of the game table with both of his hands. At that time I tried to explain to the audience who wanted to know, how the origin until Mas Pulung’s King could be deceived and got lost.
Finally, the Mas Pulung class team won the chess race. Our class was lost by a score of 2-1. One point I donated for my class by beating Mas Pulung in a unique and drama-filled match. Teenage chess champion on the municipal level of my town. The city of Malang, East Java.