The Chess Mind

Here's a game from the SCG First League, played this Monday.

Nikola Djukic-Robert Fontaine

1.e4 e5 2.Nf3 Nc6 3.Bb5 Nf6 4.O-O Nxe4 5.d4 Nd6 6.Bxc6 dxc6 7.dxe5

Here's a position that has occurred on thousands of occasions, but I don't think any of those games ended the way this one did. The comment in the game file in Chess Today (CT-1816) puts its best:

mobil phone 0-1

Three or four years ago, FIDE made it a rule that if one's cell phone rings during a game, that player is immediately forfeited. It made sense as an anti-cheating maneuver (though I don't know if anyone had been caught cheating in that way prior to the rule's implementation), but so far the rule has only served to forfeit the absent-mindedly innocent. It's a small club, and now Mr. Djukic is its latest member.

So beware, cell phone users. You should turn off your phones during tournaments anyway, from common courtesy, but if that's not reason enough, the prospect of losing serious money should provide the necessary extra motivation.

A worry: it's a cold winter day as some big-money swiss event comes down to the last round. Player 1 is doing well, in the process of winning a game that will ensure him a very nice payday. He gets up to go for a walk, whether to relax, get some water or coffee or for some other legitimate end, and while he's gone, his opponent (player 2) or some confederate slyly slips a disposable cell phone in player 1's coat pocket. Player 1 returns, player 2's confederate rings the phone, and player 2 wins by forfeit, cashes his check and tells no tales.

While that's a bit far-fetched (though not impossible), there are other possibilities. A player could set her cell phone to vibrate rather than ring and have it plugged into a headset without being detected. (For example, start with the earplugs connected to a Walkman or MP3 player, pull them out and stick them into the phone, get your advice, and then plug them back in to the music player.) So a time is probably coming when all electronic equipment will be banned from tournaments (except perhaps phones and beepers belonging to emergency personnel), and it's probably going to be sooner rather than later.

Readers of this blog (and its predecessor) are familiar with my occasional mention of various sorts of unsportsmanlike behavior in chess, generally in the context of internet blitz and bullet. One typical example is for a player in a lost position to not resign or even keep playing until mate, but to simply let his time run out. (My standard reply is in kind: I turn off the autoflag feature. If my opponent wants to waste his time, I'll let him.) I imagine almost all my readers are familiar with that maneuver, but who'da thunk that sort of thing would go on in the stately realm of correspondence chess?

The sad but true answer: Anyone with a realistic view of human nature. Thanks to tonight's Chess Today (CT-1813), I've been apprised that it's a problem in correspondence chess, too, where it's known as the "Dead Man's Defense". Here's the original definition:

"The Dead Man Defense". The idea is that the pace of the game is so abnormally slow that you are hoping your opponent (the victim) dies in the interim. It could be the only way to save the game. Because cc players are generally older, on average, the chance of this actually happening is enhanced by using this defense.

Not only is it used when you are losing the game (or drawing a previously won position) it is also a legal way to be contrary, for no reason at all, other than for the trouble/anxiety it causes your opponent...

Charming!

If you're interested in reading more on this, see the Correspondence Chess Message Board, and then do a search for "DMD" or "Dead Man's Defense" - there are various, unfortunately non-consecutive threads discussing it.

One might think that correspondence players were a more elevated breed, a mannerly collection of chess Platonists searching for truth.

Apparently not.

...are available here. Does Topalov really believe he's in a different class than Kramnik? If we had nothing to go on but 2005, then okay, but unless the 30-year old Kramnik is in his death throes, then the 30-year old Topalov is speaking out of his euphoria.

There's more I'm inclined to say, but I'll report only my strong impression that Topalov has no desire to risk his title. He'll defend it when he needs to, but I suspect that even if Kramnik were 60 points higher - as has been the case for most of their careers - he'd find a different reason to avoid a title match.

So, given Topalov's statement(s), the immediate prospects for reunification are just over, unless (1) FIDE President Kirsan Iljumzhinov forces it, or (2) the players' ratings even up and public pressure makes Topalov's stand impossible to maintain.

Another opportunity for the chess world has been lost; on now to other topics.

In A Setback for Reunification, I noted (with dismay) FIDE World Champion Veselin Topalov's abrupt declaration of a lack of interest in reunification (especially abrupt, considering that Silvio Danailov, his manager, had expresed just such an interest several days before); today, we have news of Classical World Champion Vladimir Kramnik's view on the matter: he's for it. Here's the upshot as presented in tonight's issue (CT-1810) of Chess Today, drawn from an interview with Kramnik in Rodnaya Gazeta (via Russian news sites):

Kramnik considers himself to be the legitimate Classical World Champion, and challenges Veselin Topalov to a match. In the opinion of Kramnik, the unification of the chess world now depends on FIDE and Topalov: they should give agreement for the unification match.

No surprise there, but whether this forthright, public declaration will any impact on Topalov remains to be seen. Interestingly, it is not only the principals who have weighed in; we also have comments from the two charters members of the (informal) Committee to Impeach Kramnik: Alexei Shirov and Garry Kasparov. Here's Shirov, from a brand new interview:

[Q:] Does Kramnik, in your opinion, have moral or juridical rights to challenge Topalov?

[Shirov:] Not a bit. It is sufficient to recall the year 1998.

Equally shocking, Kasparov (at least as reported by Mig), thinks Topalov shouldn't bother with Kramnik, either.

Shirov's gripe is entirely understandable: in 1997, he defeated Kramnik in a match for the right to play Kasparov for the title. Kramnik got paid for losing, while Shirov's big payday was to come from the title match. That match was supposed to occur in 1998, but it fell through and Shirov earned $0. If that's not bad enough, Kasparov decided, in 2000, to give Kramnik a shot at the title. Kramnik accepted, they played, and Kramnik won. (And, needless to say, was paid well for the experience.)

Kasparov's comment is another story. For years, he denounced FIDE and ridiculed their championships. He claimed his title was the genuine one, the true continuation of the line from Steinitz. He didn't believe he had forfeited this during the five years he failed to defend the title - even in 1998, when his results were rather mediocre. Further, he generally maintained, post-2000, that Kramnik was the (or at worst, a) true title-holder as well.

Before his match with Kramnik, Kasparov explicitly waived any right to a rematch; almost immediately after losing, however, he placed heavy pressure on Kramnik to offer the rematch he had willingly foregone. Kramnik did not comply, plumping, reasonably enough, for a qualification cycle. (This was won in mid-2002 by Peter Leko, who defeated Topalov in the final.)

Kasparov bypassed the qualifier, but found another way. In early 2002, all the relevant parties signed the Prague Agreement, according to which Kasparov was supposed to play then-FIDE champion Ruslan Ponomariov, Kramnik play official challenger Peter Leko, and then the winners of those matches play each other. Unfortunately, the match with Ponomariov fell through, but Kasparov's status as challenger-in-waiting was maintained through last year and early this year, and he was still supposed to play Rustam Kasimjanov - with the winner to play Kramnik (who retained his title by narrowly drawing the match with Leko). The Kasimjanov match wasn't coming off either, and between his frustrations and his political interests, Kasparov decided he had had enough and retired from the game.

Thus Kasparov, like Shirov, feels some resentment towards Kramnik, but Kasparov has far less of a leg to stand on. Shirov was deprived of what was rightfully his and was done a severe economic injustice (though Kramnik was the beneficiary of that injustice, not its perpetrator); Kasparov, on the other hand, was not treated unjustly: he wasn't entitled to a rematch, and he didn't get one.

But like his great predecessor, Kramnik too has the ability to shoot himself in the foot. Around the time of the Kasimjanov era, prior to Kasparov's retirement, Kramnik pronounced the Prague Agreement dead. His official reason was a concern for the future of the unified title: he wanted to make sure that a reasonable cycle would be in place rather than a continued series of knockout events. The more cynical interpretation was that this was a pretext: Kramnik took the first available opportunity to block a possible rematch with Kasparov, and since Ponomariov-Kasparov had fallen through, he could report that FIDE hadn't held up its part of Prague, so neither would he.

At that point, I was sympathetic to Kramnik's arguments, but then most of my sympathy left when he produced this statement in a recent (September 2005) interview

The Prague agreements enabled me to play against the FIDE champion. I am ready to fulfil this agreement and play for the absolute world title against the winner of San Luis. I hope that the other side will carry fulfil [sic] the agreement as well.

What?! Prague is dead when it's Kasimjanov-Kasparov instead of Ponomariov-Kasparov, but once Kasparov is out of the picture it's alive? Nice. Add to this the Danailov-Topalov about-face from this past week, and it's tempting to wish a pox on the whole lot of them. Even so, I believe that reunification is the best thing for chess, both for the fans and the good of the profession.

Is there enough good sense and delayed self-interest to make it happen?

A few days ago Silvio Danailov, Topalov’s long-time manager, stated that Topalov would be happy to play Kramnik – and the clear sense was that it would be for the world championship.

It’s also clear that Topalov recognized and valued Kramnik’s title, as Topalov participated in the Dortmund qualifier in 2002, making it to the finals before losing a tough match to Leko. Note, by the way, that Kramnik’s own path to the title was a direct one: he didn’t have to qualify before facing Kasparov, whose rating was 79 points higher going in.

Now to the present. Topalov asks why Kramnik should get a title shot (against him) when he’s only #7 on the rating list and 60 points lower-rated, especially when he could have played in San Luis?

Well, how about an obvious answer: Kramnik is also a legitimate world champion, and this event would unify the titles, make chess fans happy, increase the prestige of the championship title by eliminating the factions, and give both players a nice payday?

Against the #7 objection: Kramnik would have played a reunification match against Kasimjanov if he had won, despite the latter’s status as the world’s #35 player.

Against the 60-points-lower objection, there have been and could have been many matches with gaps of equal to greater size. For example:

Kramnik (2770) vs. Kasparov (2849) in 2000.
Topalov (2745) against Kramnik (2807) (had the former qualified in 2002).
Kasimjanov (2670) against Kramnik (2743) (had Kasimjanov won in San Luis).
Spassky (2690) against Fischer (2785) in 1972 (fortunately, Spassky was the champion and didn’t have a choice).

Finally, it’s true that Kramnik would get his shot without qualifying, but so what? Topalov isn’t qualifying to play Kramnik, either, and Topalov didn’t worry about that sort of argument in 2002, when it could have undermined the value of Kramnik’s title.

In the 2005/5 issue of New in Chess Magazine, Topalov proclaimed “I am not afraid to lose. This makes the difference between me and the others” (p. 27). Maybe that was true at the time, but I worry that he has caught the world champions’ disease; like revolutionaries, their openness to risk and opposition to injustice magically disappears once they have left the ranks of the persecuted and joined the privileged class.

My suspicion is that the real motivation is their head-to-head score. Kramnik’s record against Topalov is a dominant +19 -9 =34, and even this year - Topalov’s best and Kramnik’s worst - they have split their games with two wins and two draws apiece.

Maybe I'm wrong. I hope I am, and further hope that Topalov changes his mind. If he doesn't, it's a loss for the chess world and, in my opinion, a real blow to his reputation for fearlessness.

[Hat tip: Brian Karen]