Jim Court was a big man. Big in every sense of the word. At six feet six inches and 200 pounds, he was physically large. He worked out regularly at an exclusive gym and was muscular and strong, and it all led to a very intimidating appearance. He was in his late 30s in age but he had the strength and endurance of a twenty year old.

He was a big man in other ways, too. Big in business, as the CEO of a major construction company headquartered in the midwestern city in which he lived. A big man around town, as a member of the City Council, chair of the Budget Committee, and with prospects of maybe being elected Mayor at some point.

He was wealthy. His construction company had started long ago as a family business. When Jim inherited it, he took it public and make a fortune overnight. He had a hundred million in investments, property, and cash, and he knew that would only grow with time.

Nothing could stand in Jim's way, and if you were to ask Jim he would tell you as much.

One Sunday in mid-December, when the cold weather had set in, Jim was sitting in his penthouse condo with a glass of French wine, and he started to think about the upcoming holidays. He didn't like this season. For one thing, he had to pay his employees for not only Thanksgiving but Christmas and New Year's Day as well, days on which they did no work for the company at all. Jim had wanted to do away with the holidays. If the workers wanted off, they could go without pay for a day. But it didn't work out and the holidays stayed on the books. However, when the workers started asking for the day after Thanksgiving off, too, Jim drew the line. "I pay you for six holidays a year already," he roared, "and you're not getting another one as long as I'm here!"

He was stingy about raises, benefits, and just about everything else, doing just the minimum the law required. He actually had cut wages once when unemployment was high and the workers had nowhere else to go. "A dime a dozen," he said of his laborers. Jim was a little more careful with the office staff, doing just enough to avoid too much turnover. But he would instantly fire anyone he thought of as disloyal.

Another thing he hated about the season was all this nonsense about giving gifts. Some of his staff gave him gifts; that was fine if they thought they could butter him up that way, but he'd be darned if he'd give gifts to anyone else, and as he had no living family, he didn't have to bother with relatives, either.

His thoughts weren't making him happy and were ruining his enjoyment of his $250 bottle of wine. Jim was stingy with everyone but himself. "It's my money and I'm the one who should enjoy it," he would often say, especially when turning down requests for charitable donations.

"I think I'll go for a walk and clear my head of all this Christmas nonsense," he said to himself, "although I suppose there will be those stupid decorations everywhere and people asking for handouts."

Jim put on his faux fur coat and hat and his Italian leather gloves and took the elevator down to the lobby. When the doorman said, "Happy holidays, Mr. Court," Jim scowled at him and said, "You must be new here. If you want to keep your job you better watch what you say."

Jim walked for maybe twenty minutes, setting a brisk pace, until he came upon a park where the checker hustlers hung out, at all times of the year in all sorts of weather. Now, Jim fancied himself a good checker player, much as he thought he was good at nearly everything. In fact, he was pretty good, though short of professional status.

"Maybe I'll go win a game or two," he thought, and he let his footsteps carry him into the park. There were concrete tables all around with embedded checkerboards. Despite the cold there were quite a few people in the park, as you might expect for a sunny Sunday afternoon. A few were playing chess but most were playing checkers. A couple of tables seemed open, with just one person sitting at the board.

A ragged looking fellow, probably in his forties and sporting a scruffy beard, waved at Jim. The man's hands were encased in gloves with the fingers exposed. "Hey man," he said, "how about a game? Only five bucks and you'll learn something for sure."

Jim looked over at the man. "Learn something, will I? Okay, let's play and we'll see who learns what."

"Five bucks," the man said. "That's the stakes."

"Make it ten," Jim said, "or more if you like."

"Okay, ten, but I don't ... "

"Play, don't talk," Jim said as he sat down on the concrete bench attached to the table. The seat was cold and Jim swept the lower part of his coat underneath him.

The game went on for a little while and Jim won. The hustler was pretty good but he made a mistake and Jim took advantage of it.

Jim made to stand up. "Pay me," he said.

"Aw, man ... how about double or nothing?" the hustler said.

"Okay. Go on. You get White this time."

Jim won again, and the disheartened look on the hustler's face was impossible to miss.

"Twenty dollars," Jim said, "and no more double or nothing stuff, either."

"Gee, I'm poor and can barely buy food ... hey, it's Christmas, and from the looks of you, you got money ... can you give me a break? Anyhow I'm sorry but I ain't got twenty bucks."

Jim leaned over the table and grabbed the hustler by his tattered coat. He lifted him off his seat with one hand and tightened his grip, making a fist with the other. "Twenty dollars, or else."

The hustler struggled a little but Jim's grip was too strong. The man looked frightened. "Mister, come on, I told you, I ain't got ... "

"I'll pay it." Unseen by Jim, another, more elderly man, dressed all in white and wearing a white cap and gloves, had approached. "Put the man down, Mr. Court. You're committing assault."

"Who are you?" Jim roared, "and how do you know my name?"

"Everyone knows you, Mr. Court, you're a big man, aren't you now?"

"That I am, and now I'm warning you to mind your own business. This hustler is a fraud and he owes me."

"I said I'll pay it," the white coated man said. He offered a twenty dollar bill to Jim. "My name is Gabe and I'm happy to clear this up."

Jim let go of the hustler, who fell back onto the hard bench. Gabe took another twenty and handed it to the hustler. "For your troubles," Gabe said, "and a Merry Christmas to you."

"Thanks ... I ... Merry Christmas to you too!" the hustler said. He quickly got up and hurried out of the park.

"Now," Gabe said, "there seems to be an opening at this table, Mr. Court. Would you like to play a serious game for a serious stake?"

Jim looked Gabe squarely in the eye. "I don't know who you are and what you're up to, but you're an interfering busybody and I'll be happy to teach you a lesson. Name your stakes."

Gabe pulled out an envelope. "I have here cashier's check, made out to you, for one hundred million dollars," he said. "Examine it if you wish. It is genuine. You don't have anything similar with you, but I will accept your marker when you lose."

Jim's eyes popped when he saw the check. It was indeed genuine; Jim had an eye for that sort of thing. Another hundred million --- that would just about double his fortune. Of course if he lost, he'd be dead broke ... but there were ways around that. And he wasn't going to lose.

"Let's play," Jim said.

The game began. Jim built up a huge material advantage and was certain he would win. He could barely believe that when the following position was reached, with Gabe to play, Jim was ahead by six pieces. It was the strangest game Jim had ever played.

Jim was smiling--- but so was Gabe, as he reached out to make his move.

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We doubt that any checker player anywhere has ever played for a one-game stake of a hundred million dollars. Big Jim certainly has a lot on the line here. But for you, our reader, there are no stakes at all and it's just for fun. Give today's problem a try--- maybe a hundred million tries--- and then click your mouse on Read More to see the solution and the rest of the story.

Solution and Conclusion

Play continued as follows.

15-18 22x15 32-28 31x22 28x19x26x17x10x19x12x3x10x1 Black Wins.

Gabe had won.

Jim sat at the table, shocked. Would he have to give up his fortune? He couldn't possibly have lost ... but he had.

"Double or nothing," he said to Gabe. "One more game."

"But Mr. Court, I know you can't cover the debt when you lose again."

"I let that hustler play again and he couldn't cover it either."

"And what did you do? Instead of showing a little Christmas spirit and letting a poor man off easy, you acted with violence. No, Mr. Court, we will not play for double or nothing, and come tomorrow morning I will appear in your office, at which time you will sign over your company and all of your investments and savings, as well as title to your condo and all of your vehicles. That will almost exactly cover your debt. In fact you will be twenty dollars short, but as a special gift to you, I will let that go."

"But ... but what about that Christmas spirit you were talking about? Can't you ... "

"What do you know about the Christmas spirit, Mr. Court? You openly hate Christmas. You won't give to charity. You begrudge your workers a day off to celebrate with their families. You won't even put as much as a single dollar in the Salvation Army kettle. Tell me, on what basis do you deserve mercy?"

"I ... I simply won't pay ... you can't make me ... "

"You think not?" Gabe said. He had a sad smile on his face as he waved his arms in a complicated motion.

The park started to spin around Jim, slowly at first and then faster and faster until everything was a blur and there was a roaring in his ears. A crushing sensation gripped his chest and everything went black ...

Jim's eyes opened. Incredibly, he was in a hospital bed in what looked to be an emergency room setting. A young nurse was standing over him.

"You're awake," she said. "That's good. Mr. Court, you had a heart attack but luckily you managed to call 911. Emergency services had to break into your condo and they got there just in time. You're going to be okay, though a lot of things are going to have to change. Just be glad you're alive; it's going to be a very merry Christmas for you after all!"

"But I was in the park," Jim muttered, "and ... and ... "

He suddenly thought better of telling the nurse about Gabe and the hundred million dollars. That wasn't real, was it? Or ... Jim didn't know what to think. He certainly couldn't recall calling 911 ... would Gabe be calling on him tomorrow to take away his fortune?

And then in a flash he knew the answer. The nurse said a lot of things would have to change, and Jim now knew just what that really meant.

Things were going to be different. A lot different. He wouldn't miss this opportunity and somehow he knew that this was his one and only chance.

His cell phone was on the bedside table. He picked it up and dialed a familiar number, that of his personal assistant, Melinda.

"Hello?"

"Melinda, sorry to call you on Sunday, but I need you to do a couple of things for me."

"Okay boss, what?"

"First, you know that park where the hustlers play checkers?

"Uh ... yeah ..."

"Go there and give each of them a thousand in cash. You can get the money from the office safe."

"What? Melinda replied. "Are you serious?"

"Never been more serious. A thousand each. Then call legal. I want to see them as soon as possible. We're setting up a charitable foundation for the homeless. And then get hold of human resources. I want all the employees to get a holiday bonus."

There was silence on the other end of the line.

"Melinda? You there?"

"Sure, but this is ... well ... kind of different ... "

"And one more thing ... when you give the hustlers their thousand dollars, be sure to wish them a Merry Christmas."

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Today's problem, of unknown origin, certainly isn't very difficult if you visualize carefully. Nevertheless we thought it to be a lot of fun and well in tune with our story. Happy holidays one and all!