Robert James “Bobby” Fischer, the only American ever crowned as the World Champion of chess, died Jan. 17, 2008 at the age of 64 of kidney failure (coincidentally, there are 64 squares on a chessboard). Only one word can properly describe my feelings about his passing: ambivalent.

After defeating Boris Spassky in the World Championship match in 1972, Fischer became a hero for ending the Soviet Union’s decades-long stranglehold of the world’s most popular board game. After three years, he forfeited the title back to the Russians when he refused to play the World Championship match.

In 1992, he ignored the U.S. embargo against Yugoslavia when he played another match against Spassky. America’s only World Champion of chess was now a criminal, unable to return under penalty of imprisonment. He spent the rest of his life in various foreign countries, cursing the U.S. government, which he felt was the puppet of an elaborate Jewish conspiracy.

I’ve been playing chess since the third grade, and I’ve never known what exactly to feel about Fischer. On one hand, he was an inspiration to every American chess player. He was the player whose games I and many others wanted to study. I read his book “Bobby Fischer Teaches Chess.” My dream, like the dream of every American chess player, was to be as good as him.

However, despite that, it’s impossible to excuse Bobby Fischer for his behavior. His horribly anti-Semitic views, his admiration of Hitler and his celebration of the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks are more than enough to condemn him. As an ambassador for chess, he had the chance to popularize chess in this country. America experienced a surge of “chess-mania” in the years following Fischer’s victory over Spassky that waned after his forfeit. Had he stayed world champion, then chess might be more popular today. He had the chance to be a hero of Cold War-America. Instead, he became a symbol of national shame.

I’ll never forget Bobby Fischer. His contributions to chess theory are substantial, and he provided America with a brief, shining moment of intense national pride. At the same time, I hope that if an American does eventually become the World Champion of Chess, he or she does not emulate Fischer too closely.