Waiting . . . Waiting . . .

Anatoly Karpov and Gary Kasparov have spent nearly five months locked in battle for the world chess championship--a match that is the longest in chess history and even longer than the playoffs in the National Basketball Assn. When the methodical Karpov, who has been champion since 1975, took a quick 4-0 lead in the match (the winner is the first player to win six games), he appeared to be on his way to an easy victory. But the mercurial Kasparov has been able to hold him off since. After 46 games, Karpov leads 5 to 1, and a record 40 games have ended in ties, which don’t count.

Chess is the national pastime of the Russians, but even they have grown a bit weary of the contest, which has become a test of personality and endurance as much as of chess. Judged from this distance, the contest has had its share of drama even for those who don’t play chess.

Kasparov, at 21 the youngest person ever to play for the championship, has managed to overcome his early overconfidence and poor showing to give the 33-year-old champion a fight for the crown. Even if he goes on to lose, Kasparov will have demonstrated his mettle and established himself as a worthy challenger. One can only guess at what is going through Karpov’s mind as Kasparov continues to thwart his attempts at victory. His early visions of trouncing his opponent 6 to 0 have long evaporated, but Karpov, true to his image, has shown hardly an emotion at the table. His thoughts are held deep within him.

We leave it to others to analyze the games and determine the strengths and weaknesses of each player’s strategy and turn of mind. We remain fascinated that there is such a game as chess, which still manages to be fresh and puzzling though it has been played since antiquity. This game continues to command the attention of some of the world’s finest minds, two of whom are pitting their wits against each other in Moscow’s Hall of Columns.

We also note that, except for Bobby Fischer, nowadays only the Russians play chess at the world-championship level. Fischer, who was champion from 1972 to 1975, is the only non-Russian to have held the title in the last half-century. Does the Russians’ financial support of their finest players ensure their iron grip on the title? Or is there something in the Russian character that guarantees them the inside track?

These imponderable questions will not be settled soon, but while we wait we’re keeping an eye on the competition in Moscow, waiting to see who will crack first in the struggle now going on there.