Some reflections on the world championship
Having spent a weekend in Mexico City, I'm in some ways less qualified to offer observations than those who watched the event from the comfort of their own homes, browsing every website and watching the games with the benefit of computer and kibitzing grandmaster commentary. There was comparatively little commentary at the site, and I almost always avoided it so I could think for myself. Still, I'll offer a few thoughts, some of which were colored by the in-person experience.
The first thing that struck me when I got to the site was the mausoleum-like quality of the playing hall. Unlike the two previous world championship contests I had attended (Kasparov-Anand in 1995 and Las Vegas in 1999), the lighting in the room was rather dim, except for the overhead spotlights on the players' boards. The point, I presume, was to discourage signaling from audience members or to encourage silence, but the effect was to produce somnolence in the viewers - at least this viewer. It took me a while to get used to watching without getting sleeeeeeeepy. The players - and not just Kramnik - almost always dashed into a side room - a well-lit side room! - immediately after making a move, and I suspect this was at least in part due to the depressing atmosphere of the stage.
The site on the whole was nice enough: the area around the hotel reminded me of Michigan Avenue across from Chicago's Grant Park, and the floor of the Sheraton where the tournament took place was serviceable, divided into a small organizers' room, a press room (with no chess boards!), an interview room, a commentary room, the off-limits hall that served as backstage for the players, and the tournament hall itself.
About the commentary: FM Leontxo Garcia was the "color commentator", to use a term from televised sports broadcasting in the U.S., with GMs Zurab Azmaiparashvili and Susan Polgar (and Zappa) taking turns offering analysis. As I mentioned, I spent very little time there, but when I did there didn't seem to be much by way of actual analysis: there would be a few brief comments by a GM, and then Garcia would ask them about other matters entirely. So if any of you think I may have enjoyed special insights from having been there, you're wrong! - you'll have received a far broader and deeper education into the games from watching live on ICC or Playchess.
The press conferences, which many of you probably watched online (e.g. at ChessVibes), were often quite entertaining. Grischuk was always quite willing to be honestly self-deprecating, as were Aronian and Morozevich; Anand's comments were often illuminating, and he impressed by answering in English and often doing the Spanish translation as well. After a short draw, Gelfand was a favorite target of bloodthirsty journalists (see the Svidler-Gelfand post-mortem), as was Kramnik after his quick Petroff draw against Grischuk in a late round. (One questioner asked Kramnik why he played the Petroff when he needed to gain ground with so few rounds to go, and before he could answer Grischuk picked up the mic and said he wanted to know the answer to that question, too!) Watching this spectacle day after day I had, perhaps perversely, an increased respect for the players: if they were willing to put up with this all the time, their draws were probably more reasonable than many chess fans are willing to acknowledge. (Another point on the press conferences: some of the questions were unbelievably dumb and occasionally rude. At least no one asked the players what kind of tree they'd be.)
The players rarely conducted post-mortems (aside from whispering to each other during the press conferences while the translator relayed their responses in Spanish), but I did see two very impressive ones by Kramnik: from his game with Svidler (round 8) and then with Anand (round 10). The former was almost savage - not in their interactions but in the ferocity with which they devoured variations. It was a very impressive sight, and one I'd like to see more often. (As I've told some people, my favorite ChessBase Magazine video was an extended post-mortem between Kasparov and Judit Polgar from their last round game from Wijk aan Zee in 2000. Variations in chess periodicals are usually brief, correct, and tidied up by computers, but in post-mortems you get to see a lot more, including pure flights of fancy that usually don't survive the self-editorializing process.)
About the players themselves, they generally managed to disappear quite effectively between rounds (except for Aronian), but they were all quite impressive in their own ways. Each had a real presence about them that could probably prove intimidating to lesser opponents (helped along by the fact that all of them but Aronian are over 6 feet tall, most of them well over 6 feet). Despite this, their clear self-confidence and their immense strength as chess players, none of them seemed at all arrogant. A good thing, I think!
Now about their play and their performance. First and foremost, it was a terrific result for Anand, who was a most deserving winner. His preparation was good, his play was solid, he fought well, and he simply played the best chess throughout. He had a scare in the penultimate round against Grischuk, but anyone wanting to claim he was lucky there should promptly return the half point for his blown win against Morozevich from round 4.
Kramnik probably had the best theoretical preparation in the tournament, but I wonder if this did him a slight disservice. The positions he achieved from his openings were so good (albeit, with Black, in a flat way) that he didn't have to solve as many problems as a player. After failing to defeat Grischuk in round 4 he seemed to lose some steam, and then when he showed some ambition against Morozevich in round 9 he overpressed and lost badly. Round 10 with Anand was the big game, but Anand played very well and was even better by the end. Only at the very end of the tournament did Kramnik find his stride, winning two of his last three games, but by then it was (way) too late.
Gelfand had one of the best tournaments of his life, successfully combining excellent opening preparation with solid play. Like Kramnik, he suffered a painful loss in round 9 (to tail-ender Grischuk), but otherwise everything went well, and he played strong, interesting chess - at least when he wasn't drawing quickly. (See rounds 1, 2, 4, 8, 10, 11 and 13. It's not that at least some of these draws were justified - they were - but overall one at least gets the impression that he's too persuaded that his opponents will play like robots rather than humans.)
After these three...well, the remaining players didn't really factor in. Leko took clear fourth in his usual quiet, under-the-radar way. He scored 50%, appropriately given his reputation as a drawish player, but that reputation is somewhat unfair. He had a number of short draws in Mexico City, but he also had many of the longest games, too, including two 60-move efforts and a 100-move marathon against Gelfand in round 3.
Svidler was another half point back, and his tournament was especially uninspiring: two losses in the first cycle, a bunch of short draws, and his only win the result of preparation in the last round against a slumping Grischuk. A disappointing result for a great player.
Next came Morozevich and Aronian at minus-two. Aronian might have been in poor health early on, and both players' opening preparation proved suspect. Both players do deserve credit for their fighting spirit, with 8 and 6 decisive results, respectively.
In clear last place was Grischuk, who was tied for third as late as round 5 or 6, but who then completely collapsed, losing five consecutive games with the Black pieces.
By way of lessons from this tournament, at least two come to mind. First, experience beats youth: the first three places, possessed by the only three players who contended for the title, were taken by the (by far) oldest players in the event. Second, insanely deep opening preparation was absolutely critical. The big three were clearly the best prepared, and the results on down the table very closely followed the extent of the competitors' prep. We as amateurs don't have to work out our openings to move 28 (referring to Anand-Kramnik from the first cycle) and beyond, but it's not such a bad idea if you wish to contend for the world championship!
Anand is of course the big winner, but not the only one. For Gelfand, this should get him a fresh round of invites to the big tournaments (at least until he short draws his way onto their "don't call us, we'll call you" list). For Kramnik, it's not a bad result, and it does have the very big positive that he doesn't have to deal with Topalov and Danailov next year. He gets the prestige match with Anand, which should bring him a lot of money and the chance for ultimate post-Kasparov bragging rights. It should be a great match!
The first thing that struck me when I got to the site was the mausoleum-like quality of the playing hall. Unlike the two previous world championship contests I had attended (Kasparov-Anand in 1995 and Las Vegas in 1999), the lighting in the room was rather dim, except for the overhead spotlights on the players' boards. The point, I presume, was to discourage signaling from audience members or to encourage silence, but the effect was to produce somnolence in the viewers - at least this viewer. It took me a while to get used to watching without getting sleeeeeeeepy. The players - and not just Kramnik - almost always dashed into a side room - a well-lit side room! - immediately after making a move, and I suspect this was at least in part due to the depressing atmosphere of the stage.
The site on the whole was nice enough: the area around the hotel reminded me of Michigan Avenue across from Chicago's Grant Park, and the floor of the Sheraton where the tournament took place was serviceable, divided into a small organizers' room, a press room (with no chess boards!), an interview room, a commentary room, the off-limits hall that served as backstage for the players, and the tournament hall itself.
About the commentary: FM Leontxo Garcia was the "color commentator", to use a term from televised sports broadcasting in the U.S., with GMs Zurab Azmaiparashvili and Susan Polgar (and Zappa) taking turns offering analysis. As I mentioned, I spent very little time there, but when I did there didn't seem to be much by way of actual analysis: there would be a few brief comments by a GM, and then Garcia would ask them about other matters entirely. So if any of you think I may have enjoyed special insights from having been there, you're wrong! - you'll have received a far broader and deeper education into the games from watching live on ICC or Playchess.
The press conferences, which many of you probably watched online (e.g. at ChessVibes), were often quite entertaining. Grischuk was always quite willing to be honestly self-deprecating, as were Aronian and Morozevich; Anand's comments were often illuminating, and he impressed by answering in English and often doing the Spanish translation as well. After a short draw, Gelfand was a favorite target of bloodthirsty journalists (see the Svidler-Gelfand post-mortem), as was Kramnik after his quick Petroff draw against Grischuk in a late round. (One questioner asked Kramnik why he played the Petroff when he needed to gain ground with so few rounds to go, and before he could answer Grischuk picked up the mic and said he wanted to know the answer to that question, too!) Watching this spectacle day after day I had, perhaps perversely, an increased respect for the players: if they were willing to put up with this all the time, their draws were probably more reasonable than many chess fans are willing to acknowledge. (Another point on the press conferences: some of the questions were unbelievably dumb and occasionally rude. At least no one asked the players what kind of tree they'd be.)
The players rarely conducted post-mortems (aside from whispering to each other during the press conferences while the translator relayed their responses in Spanish), but I did see two very impressive ones by Kramnik: from his game with Svidler (round 8) and then with Anand (round 10). The former was almost savage - not in their interactions but in the ferocity with which they devoured variations. It was a very impressive sight, and one I'd like to see more often. (As I've told some people, my favorite ChessBase Magazine video was an extended post-mortem between Kasparov and Judit Polgar from their last round game from Wijk aan Zee in 2000. Variations in chess periodicals are usually brief, correct, and tidied up by computers, but in post-mortems you get to see a lot more, including pure flights of fancy that usually don't survive the self-editorializing process.)
About the players themselves, they generally managed to disappear quite effectively between rounds (except for Aronian), but they were all quite impressive in their own ways. Each had a real presence about them that could probably prove intimidating to lesser opponents (helped along by the fact that all of them but Aronian are over 6 feet tall, most of them well over 6 feet). Despite this, their clear self-confidence and their immense strength as chess players, none of them seemed at all arrogant. A good thing, I think!
Now about their play and their performance. First and foremost, it was a terrific result for Anand, who was a most deserving winner. His preparation was good, his play was solid, he fought well, and he simply played the best chess throughout. He had a scare in the penultimate round against Grischuk, but anyone wanting to claim he was lucky there should promptly return the half point for his blown win against Morozevich from round 4.
Kramnik probably had the best theoretical preparation in the tournament, but I wonder if this did him a slight disservice. The positions he achieved from his openings were so good (albeit, with Black, in a flat way) that he didn't have to solve as many problems as a player. After failing to defeat Grischuk in round 4 he seemed to lose some steam, and then when he showed some ambition against Morozevich in round 9 he overpressed and lost badly. Round 10 with Anand was the big game, but Anand played very well and was even better by the end. Only at the very end of the tournament did Kramnik find his stride, winning two of his last three games, but by then it was (way) too late.
Gelfand had one of the best tournaments of his life, successfully combining excellent opening preparation with solid play. Like Kramnik, he suffered a painful loss in round 9 (to tail-ender Grischuk), but otherwise everything went well, and he played strong, interesting chess - at least when he wasn't drawing quickly. (See rounds 1, 2, 4, 8, 10, 11 and 13. It's not that at least some of these draws were justified - they were - but overall one at least gets the impression that he's too persuaded that his opponents will play like robots rather than humans.)
After these three...well, the remaining players didn't really factor in. Leko took clear fourth in his usual quiet, under-the-radar way. He scored 50%, appropriately given his reputation as a drawish player, but that reputation is somewhat unfair. He had a number of short draws in Mexico City, but he also had many of the longest games, too, including two 60-move efforts and a 100-move marathon against Gelfand in round 3.
Svidler was another half point back, and his tournament was especially uninspiring: two losses in the first cycle, a bunch of short draws, and his only win the result of preparation in the last round against a slumping Grischuk. A disappointing result for a great player.
Next came Morozevich and Aronian at minus-two. Aronian might have been in poor health early on, and both players' opening preparation proved suspect. Both players do deserve credit for their fighting spirit, with 8 and 6 decisive results, respectively.
In clear last place was Grischuk, who was tied for third as late as round 5 or 6, but who then completely collapsed, losing five consecutive games with the Black pieces.
By way of lessons from this tournament, at least two come to mind. First, experience beats youth: the first three places, possessed by the only three players who contended for the title, were taken by the (by far) oldest players in the event. Second, insanely deep opening preparation was absolutely critical. The big three were clearly the best prepared, and the results on down the table very closely followed the extent of the competitors' prep. We as amateurs don't have to work out our openings to move 28 (referring to Anand-Kramnik from the first cycle) and beyond, but it's not such a bad idea if you wish to contend for the world championship!
Anand is of course the big winner, but not the only one. For Gelfand, this should get him a fresh round of invites to the big tournaments (at least until he short draws his way onto their "don't call us, we'll call you" list). For Kramnik, it's not a bad result, and it does have the very big positive that he doesn't have to deal with Topalov and Danailov next year. He gets the prestige match with Anand, which should bring him a lot of money and the chance for ultimate post-Kasparov bragging rights. It should be a great match!
