In youth, everyone has their heroes. But as one matures, heroes lose their importance. Life flows swiftly, bringing constant change, and you find yourself caught in its stream, preoccupied with thoughts of the future. Each day brings something new. Dreams are born and fade, replaced by others. The past doesn’t occupy your thoughts. What’s lost is lost; there’s so much more to discover in the future.
Between 1970 and 1972, my hero became Bobby Fischer, the chess genius who crushed all his opponents on his way to the chess throne. I remember following his match against Spassky for the world championship in Reykjavik with my father. We were in Palanga, analyzing each game or adjournment every day. Fischer inspired me to start playing chess at the Vilnius Chess Club. He also inspired millions of other children and young people to take up the game. Chess suddenly became a global news sensation. At the Vilnius Chess Club, even native Russians cheered for Fischer over their Soviet grandmasters.
From 1971 to 1974, Johan Cruyff became another of my heroes. Thanks to him, Ajax won three consecutive European and World Cups, becoming one of the strongest club teams. Cruyff won two Ballon d’Or awards. At the World Cup in Germany, the Dutch team’s play captivated everyone, and Cruyff was unanimously named the tournament's best player, even though the Netherlands lost in the final. My father and I supported the Dutch team, and while we were disappointed by the result, the shared disappointment was easier to bear. That same year, Cruyff won his third Ballon d’Or—a record at the time. From then on, I always rooted for the Netherlands and followed Cruyff’s career after 1974.
Both soon retired from active sports. Time and age cooled the passions, and the heroes faded into the background of my consciousness. Suddenly, those old memories and losses resurfaced in my life. I remembered Fischer again when I resumed playing chess and participating in online tournaments. Cruyff re-emerged from deep memory when I rooted for the Dutch team again during the 2022 World Cup in Qatar. Unexpectedly, I noticed many parallels between these two geniuses. Both were ahead of their time. Cruyff is often considered the father of modern football. He was named the best European player of the 20th century and the second-best globally after Pelé. Not only was he a brilliant player, but he was also a tactical genius—a coach on the field, as journalists and Dutch national team coach Rinus Michels called him. Later, he became FC Barcelona’s most successful coach, ushering in a new era—the Dream Team. Fischer was the strongest chess player of all time, with records that have stood for 50 years. The performance gap between Fischer and the second-strongest player was the largest in history. His games continue to amaze with their depth and lack of errors.
Both were perfectionists, rebels, and individuals with big egos and challenging personalities. But history has shown that they were right about the ideas they fought for. Disappointments came early. Fischer refused to play against Karpov when his proposed match format was rejected. Cruyff skipped the 1978 World Cup in Argentina and essentially retired from playing for the national team and European clubs. Their fates were also similar—early deaths: Fischer in 2008 at 64 and Cruyff in 2016 at 68.
This renewed interest in Fischer and Cruyff in my later years is partly explained by the fact that they were my first childhood heroes—even before rock and movie stars. Moreover, they were also my father’s heroes. That connection to childhood and my parents evokes nostalgia. In maturity, I reread their biographies and watched documentaries I hadn’t been able to see in my youth. When your heroes rise and fall before your eyes, it’s painful. But in youth, there’s no time to dwell on it. In maturity, you understand it more deeply and take it personally. Sometimes I think it’s better when your heroes are long-deceased historical figures. Their lives, achievements, failures, and deaths are all confined to a past time in which you don’t live. But in youth, you most need living heroes—athletes, music and film stars, artists, leaders. Thus, you cannot escape the heartache, for they will leave, taking a piece of your youth with them.
Patiko