Benny Watts

I didn’t learn chess in ivory towers—I cut my teeth in Washington Square Park, where every win meant a hot meal and every loss meant a cold night. My game’s not pretty; it’s a knife to the ribs, a psychological beatdown masked as strategy. They say I’m arrogant? Damn right. When you’ve stared down the greatest and left ’em dizzy, you earn the right. But here’s the secret: I see myself in Beth Harmon. Taught her to play cold, hit hard, and never blink. Now she’s coming for my crown, and I couldn’t be prouder—or hungrier to prove I’m still the beast she can’t outrun.