The last time I played in a rapid chess tournament, I faced a woman in the final round. It was a decisive game, a draw wouldn’t help either of us, so we both fought hard. The top three spots were already secured by GMs, but a win would have given either of us a chance to break into the top 30, a group filled with titled players. I had the advantage of playing with the white pieces, but unfortunately, I lost.

Before the round, I quickly checked my phone to see who my next opponent was. It turned out to be a woman with the title of CM. I found some comfort in the fact that she was much younger than me. I assumed experience would be on my side. My plan was simple: avoid opening up the position, keep the pieces on the board, and push the pawns forward to try to crush her.

My opponent chose quite an unusual opening: 1. e4 Nc6 2. d4 d5. After the opening, I had a clear advantage and full control of the game. Unfortunately, in the middlegame, I overlooked a tactical idea that allowed her to win a pawn and take the initiative. After spending the first 25 moves on defense, she finally went on the offensive and with great force. I could feel she was angry that she had to wait so long for her moment to break free and strike.

I barely managed to escape checkmate and was forced to trade queens. Otherwise, I would have been mated. My king was cornered, with no pawns left to protect him. It was the last game still being played in the tournament, and a small crowd of players gathered around to watch. I felt genuinely uncomfortable, the position was completely lost for me. To make matters worse, the tournament photographer decided to capture that exact moment.

Then came the final dagger. My opponent, in a cinematic gesture, played Ke7-f6, holding her king on the square for a brief moment. It felt like a knife to the heart, the game was over, and I realized I had no hope left. My king stood helplessly on the edge of the board, while hers confidently occupied f6, blocking my pawn. I wanted to resign right there, but I didn’t want to ruin the photo. After the picture was taken, I made a few more moves and then quietly resigned.

After the game, I was actually glad to see her smile. She was happy with her victory, and that made me feel better. If the game had ended in a draw, we both would have been disappointed. It hadn’t been an easy win for her, she had to defend carefully for half the game. As for me, what remained was a single photo, a beautiful, cinematic shot capturing the very moment my pretty opponent defeated me.

Below is the position from that memorable moment:

Artwork generated with Midjourney

What is the essence of a GM’s greatness?

What sets a Grandmaster apart from an average player? This thought has been on my mind for quite a while. I believe it lies in the elegance of realizing a positional advantage.

Chess is more like boxing than basketball

In my opinion, chess is more similar to boxing than to basketball. This is why it’s important to stay focused until the very end of the game, a single mistake can wipe out an advantage you’ve been building throughout the whole game. That’s one of the reasons we love chess: at any moment, something unexpected can happen, something we may have missed in our calculations. Chess teaches us to adapt quickly to new situations, and that is an incredibly valuable skill.

I feel that basketball is different. It’s hard to imagine a scenario where, after leading by, say, 30 points, you suddenly lose. In such cases, it’s common to bring in less experienced players just to hold the lead until the end. In chess, I don’t think we can afford such a strategy. We must remember that our opponent, even in a worse position, is constantly looking for a way to knock us out with a series of well-thought moves. Much like in boxing, a game can be decided with a single shot.

Below, I’m sharing my most recent game, where I was in a much worse position and had only 40 seconds left on the clock, yet I managed to come up with an insane plan to knock out my opponent mazi1971 (2051 elo) in a rapid game. The plan worked, perhaps by miracle, as my opponent chose what was probably the worst possible defense. I must admit that after the game, I sighed with exhaustion and couldn’t play another game for the rest of the day. Chess engines would have laughed at my attacking plan, it was full of holes like Swiss cheese, yet somehow, in a real game, it worked. It must have been a miracle.

Never lose hope, inspired by the 11th round between Sam Shankland and Anish Giri at the Tata Steel Tournament 2019 (Wijk aan Zee), played on January 26, 2019.

The final move of the game was pushing the pawn to b6. After this move, Sam Shankland (peak rating 2731 Elo) resigned. I clearly remember the day I saw this game. It was being commented on by Peter Svidler and Jan Gustafsson. Everyone was shocked by what Sam had done. I remember thinking that I would never want to feel the way Sam must have felt when he realized that Anish had no chance to win that position. We should never give up, though unfortunately, time cannot be reversed. If Sam had withstood the pressure until the very end, we would have witnessed another immortal game.

The first documented game of human chess was played on February 15, 1454, in Marostica, Italy. It was a staged duel for the hand of the local ruler’s daughter. Instead of an actual combat between two knights, a symbolic chess match was held, with the pieces represented by people in costume. Since then, Marostica has become famous for this tradition, which is still reenacted every two years in september. A beautiful example of modern human chess:

TLC Trio - Skyfall

If you know of any films featuring human chess, please share the link.

Such an addictive song: Dreamcatcher - Jazz Bar

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