You’re leaving a chess match in Italy. You’re being swamped by reporters and interviewers, their bright flashes getting up in your face as you weakly try to swat them away. There’s hands on your coat and you panic, struggling to escape. Before you know it, there’s someone in front of you. It’s Jet LeBlanc; the number one chess player in the world. His hands are on your shoulders as he murmurs reassurances in your ear. He sweeps you away from the crowds, behind a telephone box. “Are you okay?”