The Chess Hall of Fame: Birthday tributes - Anatoly Karpov: The Ice cold Strategist
“He always struck me with his modesty, calmness, and seriousness.”
My first memory of Anatoly Karpov dates back to the 1972 Chess Olympiad in Skopje. I was just a boy addicted to chess, and there he was—already a rising star in the mighty Soviet team, playing on Board Five and dominating it with quiet precision. That early glimpse of greatness stayed with me.
Three years later, in 1975—the same year he officially became World Champion—I had the unique privilege of playing against him. In the crystal hall of the Officer’s Palace in Bitola, he gave a simultaneous exhibition, and I, then the best young “pioneer,” was among the lucky few to sit across from him. Karpov, newly crowned yet utterly grounded, moved with purpose and clarity. His concentration, even in a simul, was total. He did not seek attention—he commanded it with his presence alone.
Forty years later, I met him again. Time had added a few lines to his face, but not a single crack in the composure that defined him. The photograph we took that day may be of poor quality, but the moment remains vivid: the same quiet intellect, the same dignified modesty.
But it is Karpov’s legendary rivalry with Garry Kasparov that truly carved his name into chess immortality. Between 1984 and 1990, they faced each other in five titanic World Championship matches, spanning 144 games—a psychological and physical battle unparalleled in chess history. The first match, in 1984, was stopped after five months and 48 games, with Karpov leading 5–3 but physically depleted. Many believe, and I agree, that he had demonstrated deeper understanding and control throughout that match.
Though Kasparov would eventually emerge as the new champion and retain the title in their subsequent clashes, Karpov’s strategic elegance and positional mastery often left a deeper impression. Where Kasparov attacked like a thunderstorm, Karpov squeezed the life out of his opponents like a boa constrictor—calm, methodical, merciless.
Perhaps the greatest testament to Karpov’s legacy came from Kasparov himself, who once described Magnus Carlsen as “the ideal combination of Fischer and Karpov.” To be recognized as a foundational pillar of modern chess by one's fiercest rival is rare—and telling.
Karpov was more than a champion. He was—and remains—a model of sportsmanship, discipline, and intellectual rigor. His approach to the game influenced generations of players who came after him, and his name still inspires quiet reverence.
I was fortunate to witness his journey from prodigy to legend, from Skopje to Bitola and beyond. His greatness does not announce itself with drama. It plays perfect moves—and lets the board speak.
P.S. For this article, I have selected three games played by Karpov. The first, against Seirawan, showcases his precision in seizing the initiative. The second game, where he gradually outplayed Korchnoi, ends with surgical accuracy. The final game, against Kasparov, is a masterpiece of endgame play—a reminder that chess is not merely a game, but an art form comparable to music or other creative expressions.
Enjoy!
