The Speed Chess Championship Finals in London

In this week's blog ECF Director Yuri Krylov reports from his visit to the Speed Chess Championships in London.

The Speed Chess Championship Finals by Yuri Krylov

In early February Chess.com rolled into town to host the 2025 Speed Chess Championship finals in London’s Strand. Having the top players come to battle in London is always exciting, and with Magnus being one behind Hikaru in the title race, I was anticipating a lot of chess drama over the weekend. I would like to thank Judit Sztaray of Chess.com, who kindly provided me with credentials for the event.

Before the chess kicked off I was lucky to attend a private event hosted by the SP Lohia Foundation and Chess.com. Having known Aarti Lohia as THE chess mum (she was rocking a t-shirt confirming her undisputed status in that regard) and someone so passionate about promoting chess, I wanted to listen to her panel discussion with Danny Rensch. I’ve always felt that the game doesn’t belong to the elite at the top of the ELO mountain and that chess is universal, so a discussion between a chess philanthropist and the face of the biggest chess platform is not something I would miss in a hurry.

Aarti was talking about how chess is a language, but not in a traditional way; it breaks barriers and allows interaction in the most unlikely places. Having filmed a documentary in a US Category A prison, she talked about how ‘time slows and ego softens’ and how chess is the ‘great equaliser’ when you have the full responsibility for your own decisions and there is no one else to blame for poor outcomes – you make the moves and you have to live with the consequences, regardless of your fame and fortune or the lack thereof. This resonated deeply with Danny, who said that in life we are ‘too eager to give up agency’, we like to blame a bad dice roll or a wrong card being dealt – none of that in our beautiful game. Danny talked about his book The Dark Squares with great passion, and, having picked it up, I can’t wait to read it. The optimism he projects shows just why he became such a dominant force in the chess world – ‘if you like your endgame position, it doesn’t matter how bad your opening was.’ There was definitely something very therapeutic in the air, and Carl Jung was mentioned on multiple occasions.

Turning at last to the Championship itself, I must confess that domestic responsibilities intervened, and I only arrived towards the end of the bullet segment between Magnus and Denis on Saturday. By that point the internet was already awash with streams, analysis, and grandmaster-level dissection, and rightly so. Who, after all, am I to comment meaningfully on chess of this calibre? What I can comment on, however, is the experience. Descending deep underground into 150 Strand felt less like attending a chess match and more like entering a secret control room. On stage, the two players sat side by side at computer terminals, each wearing noise-cancelling headphones. Live commentary echoed around the room, evaluation bars glowed reassuringly (or alarmingly), and multiple screens ensured that nobody missed a tactical skirmish.

It was a far cry from the last time I watched Magnus play in person against a very fashionable Levon at the 2019 London Chess Classic. Being as I am firmly middle-aged in both outlook and temperament, I must admit that two silent classical games in an auditorium – with no commentary and no helpful coloured bars – remains more my natural habitat. At the time I was around 1400 on Chess.com, and optimistic enough to believe I could follow along. The slow rhythm of classical chess allowed space for reflection. I could ponder positions, consider plans, and occasionally convince myself that I had spotted something profound. It felt rather like watching Shakespeare: every pause mattered, every gesture carried weight, and the silences often spoke louder than the moves.

By contrast, the Speed Chess Championship feels closer to an American sporting spectacle. Having once attended a Florida Panthers game against the Red Wings, I recognised the formula immediately: relentless action, graphics, commentary, and bursts of entertainment, with some actual sport squeezed in between.

I mean that entirely as a compliment. It is fast, vibrant, and wonderfully engaging, even if I sometimes struggled to keep up. Around me were spectators who, by their own admission, rarely played over the board chess. Most favoured online, many were rated around 1300–1400, and yet they were utterly absorbed. They had paid handsomely to sit close to two people staring intensely at computer screens, and they loved every minute of it.

That in itself felt significant. One of the lighter moments came when someone asked John Sargent for an autograph. John, slightly mortified, had to explain that he was not, in fact, David Howell, though he was perfectly willing to sign a board regardless. Ever the professional, he continued seamlessly with announcements and interviews, but we did manage a brief chat about children and chess. He spoke fondly of his young son and his hopes that a love of the game might develop. I gently warned him not to assume anything. With an older daughter who remains stubbornly unimpressed by the beauty of sixty-four squares, I speak from experience.

 As Rashid Nezhmetdinov once observed, ‘He who analyses blitz is stupid,’ and here analysis was largely redundant. The players were locked in continuous combat, games flowing seamlessly into one another as the time controls shifted. Someone at Chess.com, it seemed, had been inspired by Aristotle’s unities of time, space, and action. 

The effect was gripping. There was barely time to breathe between games, and the audience remained fully engaged, pausing only for autograph opportunities. Applause, cheers and spontaneous reactions were encouraged. This was not a hushed cathedral of contemplation but a participatory sporting theatre. I briefly attempted to initiate a Mexican wave. It did not catch on. Away from the main stage the event was equally impressive. I found myself enthusiastically joining in side competitions – setting up pieces one-handed against the clock, answering quizzes, and interacting with commentators. Everything was meticulously organised and effortlessly entertaining. It was, quite simply, impossible to be bored.

Chess in this environment was not merely observed. It was performed. The Chess.com team clearly understands how to put on a show. Streamers and commentators such as Levy Rozman, Anna Rudolf, David Howell and Anna Cramling were omnipresent, posing for photos, signing autographs, livestreaming, and posting across platforms. The convergence of live sport, social media and digital content created a web of engagement that traditional events can only admire from afar. This level of intertextuality and technological convergence remains something of a distant dream for most federations.

I later bumped into Tofan Sahoo and his son, and we found ourselves discussing why the ECF struggles to stage events of this nature. Comparisons with the Speed Chess Championship or the Global Chess League are inevitable. The answer, of course, is complex. Budgets play a significant role, as does institutional culture. Many members and officials understandably favour the tried and tested congress format over experimental spectacle. Stability brings security. Innovation brings risk. Yet this leaves us in a curious position. Without boldness, growth is difficult. Without growth, outreach stagnates. And without outreach, the extraordinary beauty of chess remains hidden from many who might otherwise discover it. How much are we willing to invest – financially, culturally and imaginatively – to change that? Fortunately, this is well above my pay grade and best left to others. Perhaps it is a question for the ECF to ponder as it continues to shape chess’s future in England.

Now, after all the chess drama, I wanted to put some of what was discussed on the panel in practice, so with the help of Peter Sullivan (CSC’s prison chess coordinator), I am planning to take a team from Maidenhead Chess Club to play a match in a prison against the inmates. Having been to a number of prisons to play chess, I am keen to share the experience with my club mates, and would highly encourage everyone to see the game beyond the traditional setting.