The Chess Mind

JaiDeepBlue comments on my Cifuentes-Zvjaginsev post:

A great game with a queen sacrfice and a king-hunt, if I remember. It was adjudged the "Best Game" in the Informator of that period.

Blogmaster, perhaps you can analyze why talents like Zvjaginsev do not make it to the super-elite.

At last, an easy question! Here's the answer - pick one or more of the following:

1. He's less talented than those players.

2. He hasn't worked as hard as those players on one or more aspects of his game.

3. He hasn't had the opportunities they have.

4. His competitive character isn't as well-developed.

I know this is a rather flippant answer, but I don't think the situation is any different than why one high school student becomes a 1900 while his best friend only makes it to 1750.

Maybe I'm misunderstanding your question, though. Maybe you're asking this:

Zvjaginsev had an enormous rating as a teenager - he hit 2600 just before his 19th birthday - so why didn't he keep pace with those in the super-GM category?

I have two answers.

First, I think 1-4 above still apply. Some people reach their maximum potential (or at least a plateau extremely difficult to transcend) sooner than others: getting to 2600 first doesn't guarantee getting to 2700 first! (As they say, past performance is no guarantee of future results.)

Second, Zvjaginsev didn't fail to keep pace with those in the super-GM category, because (generally speaking) he wasn't even with them in the first place. His mark is 2600 at 19; let's compare this with the world's current top 10.

Kasparov: He comes from a different era, of course, but even so: his first rating as a 19-year old (in 1982) was 2675, which put him at #2 in the world.

Topalov: 2640 (1994).

Anand: 2555 (1988) - but he had almost no opportunity to play outside of India until the year after.

Svidler: 2635 (1995).

Aronian: 2562 (2001).

Kramnik: 2725 (1994).

Leko: 2668 (1998).

Ivanchuk: 2625 (1988).

Gelfand: 2510 (1987) - but with few opportunities to play outside the Soviet Union, which artificially deflated his rating.

Ponomariov: 2743 (2002).

Thus with the exception of Levon Aronian and two players with artificially low ratings, Zvjaginsev's mark of 2600 at 19, while extremely impressive, lags behind his colleagues at the top of the food chain. It's not a big deficit - 34 points if we count everyone; 59 if we exclude Anand and Gelfand - but add those points to Zvjaginsev's current rating and he's right up there (2698 or 2723).

I don't know if I've answered your question, but I tried! If I missed, please write in and set me straight, and we'll do it all over again.

...at least sometimes.

Alexei Shirov is not only one of the most exciting players around, he's flat-out one of the greatest players of our era, period. He can calculate, he can improvise, he can innovate - you name it, he can do it.

But although he can prepare with the best of them, he failed to do so - in spades - in his game yesterday with British GM Peter Wells. Wells, like many elite British players, is a fan of the Trompowsky (1.d4 Nf6 2.Bg5), and in fact recently published a widely acclaimed book on that very opening (Winning with the Trompowsky, Batsford 2003).

Wells, with White, defeated Shirov in 13 moves. Brilliant preparation? No. A clever novelty? No. A new trap? No again. Shirov followed a game between two well-known grandmasters - Tromp specialist Hodgson and Dutch GM van der Wiel for 11 moves (at which point he was probably lost), disimproved on van der Wiel's play on move 12, and resigned after Wells' 13th move.

Of course GMs are human and it's impossible even for them to keep up with everything, but the funny part is that Hodgson-van der Wiel is one of the main games in Wells' book, analyzed in significant detail!

So prep up for your opponents, and if you think you're going to play a GM who has written a book on an opening you'll play into, you might want to buy it beforehand. Conversely, Shirov's example shows that even legends of the game can go awry in slightly offbeat openings; in principle, there's no reason why a well-prepared 2000+ player couldn't have won the same game Wells did. (Granted, he'd have taken longer to resign.)

Be prepared!

(Click here for the game.)

Paaneater writes, via email:

Dennis,

Sorry to trouble you with this. Hope you remember me. I was the one who sent the QGD game of a ten year old boy (my son) from India. He seems to have a problem these days. His chess has definitely improved. But he seems to have a peculiar problem. He plays lots of good moves and outplays the opponent (much higher rated) and then makes a couple medium sized inaccuracies. Seeing his advantage slipping away, he makes a blunder and loses the game.

I thought it is a good topic to address in your blog and it would be of immense use to me. [snip] Regards,

[paaneater]

I do remember you and your son (or rather, his very impressive chess) - how could I not?

To be honest, the list of problems I've suffered from in my chess career hasn't included this one, so I can't tell you what I've done to overcome it. What I might be able to do is figure out why I haven't had the problem in the first place, and maybe help in that way. A second way I might be of help is to subsume your son's problem under a more general heading which includes problems I have "enjoyed", and advise on that basis.

Let's start with the first. When I'm playing a peer (or better) and believe I've let an advantage slip away, one of the first things I'll consider is if I can at least draw the game. If I've determined that I can, I'll then consider if I can play on without undue risk. That helps me to calm down, knowing there's at least a draw to be had, and helps me to be objective. Maybe if I play the position out, I'll get outplayed by a stronger opponent, but I won't lose on an emotionally-based blunder.

Turning to the second approach, this seems to fall under the general category of emotionalism. When I've been overly excited about something going on at the board - whether it's suddenly having chances when everything had been going poorly, or having the chance to win a big game or upset a strong player, or having survived a time scramble, or (on the negative side) having blown a good position - I've tried to consciously stop the flood of emotion from carrying me away. I'll get up from the board, take a walk, take some deep breaths to relax, think about something positive - anything to clear my mind, feel more positive, and be able to return to the board ready to fight and approach the position with some degree of objectivity.

These aren't all my thoughts on the topic, but I hope it's enough to be helpful. To recap and summarize: (1) leave the board to calm down, (2) decide if there's at least a draw to be had, and from this relaxed, confident, objective perspective, (3) figure out what to do next.

Let me know if this helps!

There's more than one way, of course. Not showing up for class is an excellent approach, and not bothering to study for exams is another. Another promising strategy is to avoid any and all written work, but in this post, I'll mention that old stand-by: plagiarism.

There are more or less subtle ways to plagiarize. For instance, paraphrasing an author's words, even while citing that author, is verboten. Either give the author's exact words, slap quotation marks around them and give proper credit, or write the whole thing in your own words - and still give credit to your source for the idea.

When it comes to plagiarizing, though, if you really want to guarantee an F, just rip off the writer's words verbatim (maybe with a trivial cosmetic change or two) and "forget" to give credit. Here's a blueprint:

ORIGINAL

After 3 of 11 rounds, the tournament is looking like a great one, with lots of lively, fighting games. Among the interesting stories so far are Kramnik's first round loss to Svidler, Zvjaginsev's round 2 win utilizing 2.Na3!? against the Sicilian, and Morozevich's forfeit loss in round three due to oversleeping(!!).

As I said, many of the games so far have been really exciting...

THEFT

After three of 11 rounds, the tournament is looking like a great one, with lots of lively, fighting games. Among the interesting stories so far besides Kramnik's first round loss to Svidler, is Morozevich's forfeit loss in round three, due to oversleeping(!!), and Zvjaginsev's Round Two win utilizing 2.Na3!? Against the Sicilian. Many of the games so far have been really exciting...

A student engaged in such blatant academic dishonesty would receive a guaranteed F (and not just any F, but a zero) on at least the relevant assignment. Such dishonesty is generally easy to catch and to punish in the academic context; in the world of chess journalism, however, it's not so easy.

The original quote, given above, is from this blog, from my first update on the Russian Championship Superfinal. The second quote comes from a recent issue of the Chess Chronicle (page 7). Despite the fact that the material on my blog is copyrighted (see the blog's header) and, even more to the point, the material stolen isn't even of any real interest, the "writer" took it anyway. I'm rather at a loss to understand the point. [Note: There isn't anything wrong with taking information from my or other copyrighted sites - up to a point. It's that there are right ways and wrong ways to do so, and this is a clear case of the latter.]

I'm not alone in having my work lifted, nor is this the only bit of lifting from my blog, apparently - see here for more details. It's probably not worth pursuing further, but I hope my readers will avoid patronizing the Chess Chronicle until they apologize and/or can the plagiarist. A pity, really, as it's an otherwise interesting addition to the world of chess publishing.

[Hat tip: Brian Karen]

It's likely that all of us have experienced plateaus while learning. We make good progress for a while, and then one day (or rather, one month, one year...) we're just stuck. If so, don't give up:

Our brain is not cut out for nonlinearities. People think that if, say, two variables are causally linked, then a steady input in one variable should always yield a result in the other one. Our emotional apparatus is designed for linear causality. For instance, you study every day and learn something in proportion to your studies. If you do not feel that you are going anywhere, your emotions will cause you to become demoralized. But reality rarely gives us the privilege of a satisfying linear positive progression: You may study for a year and learn nothing, then, unless you are disheartened by the empty results and give up, something will come to you in a flash. My partner Mark Spitznagel summarizes it as follows: Imagine yourself practicing the piano every day for a long time, barely being able to perform "Chopsticks," then suddenly finding yourself capable of playing Rachmaninov. Owing to this nonlinearity, people cannot comprehend the nature of the rare event. This summarizes why there are routes to success that are nonrandom, but few, very few, people have the mental stamina to follow them. Those who go the extra mile are rewarded....Most people give up before the rewards. (Nassim Nicholas Taleb, Fooled by Randomness, 2nd ed. (New York: Random House, 2004), 179.)

That's a generic account; here's a case study:

Let's start from the beginning: you had a good first year in chess school when you were 8 years old. Did you continue your tournament success at the same pace?

No I didn't. I made the first few norms quite easily because I already had some experience in chess from playing with my mother; but afterwards I was stuck, and didn't make the second category norm as quickly. I believe it took me a few years. Then, one summer when I was at the Estonian camp, I played in a camp tournament and won it very easily. I felt like I had jumped to another level.

How old were you?

I don't remember exactly-maybe around eleven or twelve years old. (Jaan Ehlvest, The Story of a Chess Player (Ehlvest Chess Gates, 2004), 39.)

Just think: a player who made the top five might have given up as a 10-year old has-been! There is, no doubt, a distinction between the plateaus of the youngster and the newbie, on the one hand, and that of the mature player on the other. But until we've gone that extra mile, how will we know which plateau we've reached?

In a much earlier post, I suggested that while true bad luck was is rare at best, good luck does occur. (The salient point was that our "accidents" were under our control, but the gifts our opponents give us often occur without our prompting.)

Whatever one thinks about the above, there are other ways to think about luck we can employ to supplement our understanding of the topic. Take, for example, the following quote:

We must believe in luck. For how else can we explain the success of those we don't like?

-Jean Cocteau, cited in Jaan Ehlvest, The Story of a Chess Player (Ehlvest Chess Gates, 2004), p. 76.

The quote is good for a chuckle, but the underlying sentiment is best expunged from our psyche. It's bad for our character, obviously enough, but it's even impractical: we're not going to improve by worrying about someone else's talent and past opportunities. As the Stoics and the Serenity Prayer both suggest, we should figure out what we can change, and then get to it!

Chess fans tend not to like draws, especially when they're short. I have no problem with draws when they result from a real game, but while I too am disappointed by short draws in elite GM tournaments, I believe that attempts to ban them have limited efficacy - a point I've made on my blog before.

Here's the latest bit of anecdotal confirmation, courtesy of Jaan Ehlvest's autobiographical The Story of a Chess Player (Ehlvest Chess Gates, 2004), 174-5:

I was invited to play in the prestigious Linares Tournament only once. After that I was probably put on organizer Luis Rentero's infamous "black list". In 1991 my rating was clearly in the top 10 in the world, and I was annoyed about the low appearance fee offered by Rentero. My anger didn't help me - in the first round, I lost from a very promising position to Anatoly Karpov; and in the second I took too many risks against Beliavsky, playing the King's Indian as black. After that I made a prearranged draw with Mikhail Gurevich. The contract with the organizer forbid draws before move 40, so we had to pretend a little bit more.

Here's a possible counter-argument: a longer game, even if not only the result but every single move is prearranged, still gives chess fans more to chew on. If the fans benefit, the organizers benefit and if the organizers benefit, so do the players - everyone wins.

Here's the game, in case you're curious. Did they do a good job?

Linares 1991, Round 3 [White "Ehlvest, Jaan"] [Black "Gurevich, Mikhail"] [Result "1/2-1/2"] [ECO "C11"] [WhiteElo "2650"] [BlackElo "2650"]

1. d4 e6 2. e4 d5 3. Nc3 Nf6 4. e5 Nfd7 5. f4 c5 6. Nf3 Nc6 7. Be3 cxd4 8. Nxd4 Bc5 9. Qd2 Nxd4 10. Bxd4 Bxd4 11. Qxd4 Qb6 12. Qxb6 Nxb6 13. Nb5 Ke7 14. Kd2 Bd7 15. Nd4 Na4 16. b3 Nc5 17. Bd3 g6 18. a4 a5 19. Raf1 h5 20. g3 Rag8 21. h4 Rc8 22. Ra1 Rc7 23. Rhb1 Ra8 24. Ra3 Be8 25. c3 Bd7 26. Bc2 Rcc8 27. Rba1 Na6 28. Nb5 b6 29. Nd6 Rc7 30. Rb1 Nc5 31. b4 axb4 32. Rxb4 Ra6 33. Ra1 Rca7 34.Rab1 Nxa4 35. Bxa4 Rxa4 36. Rxb6 Ra2+ 37. R1b2 Rxb2+ 38. Rxb2 Rc7 39.Rb7 Rxb7 40. Nxb7 Bc6 41. Nd6 Bd7 42. Ke3 Bc6 43. Kd4 Bd7 44. Kc5 Ba4 45. Nc8+ Kd8 46.Nb6 Bc2 47. Kd6 Bd3 48. Nd7 Bc2 49. Nf6 Bf5 1/2-1/2