Below the above
Yesterday I watched a game of chess. This was the third game between two people: one homeless, the other suspended 20 to 30 feet above the Earth in a small perspex box near Tower Bridge. The score was one all.
The man in the box was renowned magician and levitator David Blaine. His latest trick, Above the Below, is to go 44 days without food in said box, thereby besting Jesus’ world record by four days.
I see Blaine’s opponent, Francois Greeff, at about 10 in the morning. A large chessboard plastic pieces is laid out. On it it says U R NOT ALONE.
Greeff strides into the field of play, an apparently ordinary gent in a suit. He carries a sign. “Hidden Disability is the Prime Cause of Homelessness”. Blaine acknowledges with a friendly wave.
Like many — maybe all — people affected by homelessness, Greeff is not the stereotype.. Most passers-by will see a man in a suit looking intently at a chess board. If they speak to him they’ll hear a well-spoken South African accent. Upon closer inspection, though: the tattered suitcase, fraying suit, laceless shoes.
After weighing down the mat — autumn is putting in an appearance, it seems — the game begins. Greeff hides two large pawns behind his back. Pointing, Blaine chooses. He’ll play white.
The ranks and files of the board are labelled in duct tape, 1 to 8 and A to H. Greeff and Blaine have developed a simple but effective sign language. Blaine raises a hand to indicate he’s ready to move. This gesture differs only slightly from the friendly but lethargic wave to visitors. Greeff acknowledges with a wave of his own.
Blaine holds up some fingers, corresponding to the rank where the piece he wants to move sits. If there’s more than one, Greeff points to a piece with a broomstick. Blaine wags a finger, and then points left or right. Before long it’s thumbs-up.
Next, Blaine holds up some fingers to show how many squares he wants to move. This time Greeff picks up Blaine’s piece puts it down in the various possibilities. Blaine responds either thumbs up or thumbs down. It’s all great fun to watch.
Blaine plans his moves with pen and paper. His attention only moves to the giant board as Greeff makes his grandiose moves. Blaine communicates alertly, keenly and seems generally normal. (This was at the time that some of his TV appearances were borderline catatonic.)
It’s played out in public, but this is a personal battle for Greeff. He doesn’t want help. He insists that you don’t point at the board when you speak to him, in case Blaine interprets this as taking advice. Otherwise, he’s happy to talk.
“There’s no doubt about it, there’s a real man up there”, he says to passers by who question whether Blaine’s stunt is somehow a trick. “You know when you arm-wrestle, you can feel the resistance and strength of your opponent? This game is the same. I can feel the strength and resistance of David’s mind.” Greeff’s mind isn’t too shabby either. Later I’d find out he’s written a guide to cryptic crosswords.
The game lasts six or seven hours. Sometimes there are errors. Blaine gives away a bishop cheaply in the opening phase. But these are players in unusual circumstances. David Blaine hasn’t eaten for 15 days. Greeff’s story is different. “My cause is more important than my name, so please refer to me as The Hidden Disability Guy, his website says.
Blaine takes longer to move than Greeff. Maybe he just wants to the entertainment to last. Most days there’ll be no game of chess. There’ll just be people waving, or make guerilla documentaries. On a bad day, people throw things.
Mid-afternoon the storm comes. Greeff, equipped with umbrella, continues undeterred. Later he tells me he’s pleased that it rained. As visitors hurry for cover, Greeff is resolved.
Greeff wins between 4 and 5pm. He’s nibbled away at Blaine’s material the whole game. Under-prepared, I watch the end game from the cover of City Hall.
Greeff eventually gives up the umbrella — too windy. He packs up his things with the help of a wobbly associate, dancing to the tune of Special Brew.
Later, I bumped into Greeff at London Bridge station. I congratulated him on his victory, two games to one. He’d arrange to get some pictures from the hipster media types, but he was skeptical that the media proper would be interested. I suggested the internet may be different. Encouraged, Greeff gave me a sticker with his contact details.
“Email me, but make sure you tell me who you are and where I spoke to you”, he said. “I have a disability that affects my memory.” Shaking hands, we parted ways. I went north, The Hidden Disability Guy went south.