Picture Altes Schloss, Baden-Baden, photo Renate-Irene @Renate-Irene

Intermezzo: Giving Thanks to the Old Masters

Renate-Irene

Updated: Dec 2, 2022, 12:19 PM | 7

"If I have Seen Further It Is By Standing On The Shoulders Of Giants." (Isaac Newton, letter to Robert Hook[1]).

In our modern computer age, we often forget this is true in chess. It is easy for us to point out the oversights, blunders, and errors of the great chess masters of the past. With the help of computer engines, we can quickly identify their weaknesses. We tend to forget that the great masters were in the process of creating their theories, testing them against each other, and refining them as needed, not memorizing them.

As Anand so eloquently stated in his comment about Bobby Fischer as recorded in Bobby Fischer returns Home:

"I mean, most of the modern chess is his offering. Myself and the rest had those moves ready for us when we started, but it had to take someone to discover them first. Bobby Fischer was that person. He was that person for entire generations of chess players. He was a singular life in that sense. He made it easier for us today."

Olafsson. H. (2012). Bobby Fischer Comes Home: The Final Years in Iceland, a Saga of Friendship and Lost Illusions. New In Chess. Alkmaar, the Netherlands.

Yet, when Anand started, computers were not as strong as today. And today, when perfect moves are available to everyone and can be memorized, it is easy to forget the amount of intellectual and creative effort required of the masters of the past to develop all these systems and ideas. We truly stand on the shoulders of giants, and I want to thank the old masters for the gift of chess.

So, I challenge you to travel back with me in time, no computers, only your thoughts are permitted. Like the old masters in Skittles rooms, you are allowed to discuss your ideas with a friend and explore alternatives, you may use a chessboard to set up the position, and you should write down your moves as you explore alternative solutions. To make it more authentic, I suggest you use a score sheet as the old masters did.

For each position, find the best sequence of moves for both sides. You may discover new ideas as you work on them. Repeat the process until you are satisfied. Notate all variations you find and keep your notation.

Here is the challenge: create the worst sequence of moves for one side and the best sequence for the other, first for the attacking side and then for the defending side. Often, by doing this, you discover things you did not see. Combine the knowledge of both and write your final solution. Save it and compare it to the solution of the masters, which will be posted in the next blog.

For those interested in how the position was derived, I have included the move sequence without comment, followed by a picture of the critical position.

Note: I just realized that the position goes back to the beginning. I am not sure how to fix it. Press the last move, and you will see the position in question. For each example, at least three or more moves must be discovered. Although it gives you the result, there is still a lot of accurate play to go before you get there. So, good luck!

Position 1

Charousek vs Woller[2] (1893)

Position 2

Andersson-Morphy (1858 Paris Match game 4)

Here Anderssen set a deep trap for Morphy. Can you find it? What is it, and how can Morphy avoid it?

Position 3

How did Tarrasch force resignation?

[1] https://ignorelimits.com/if-i-have-seen-further-it-is-by-standing-on-the-shoulders-of-giants/

[2] In some databases, Woller is spelled, Voller

Additional References

Position 1; The game mentioned the short story "The Last Round" in "The Treasure of Chess Lore" (1951) Reinfeld. F. editor

Position 2 and 3. (2012). Reti.R. (2009) Modern Ideas in chess (new 21 Century Edition). Russell Enterprises, Inc. Milford. CT

@Renate-Irene

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I have decided to start a series of blogs in the new year. As I thought about it, many ideas presented themselves. I may pursue them later, but as it is Christmas time, I thought I would start with a series of blogs honoring three people who have deeply and profoundly affected my attitude toward chess and life. The first blog, today’s blog, will set the background.

Toward the end of his life, William Lombardy visited the Mechanics Institute in San Francisco, California. I remember when he came in and sat next to me on the first day of the Imre Koenig event. This was a special two-day round-robin event where invited grandmasters competed against each other. If I remember correctly, there were only four players, Daniel Naroditsky and Sam Shankland among them.

I did not recognize the stranger who sat next to me, but John Donaldson, the MI chess director, did. He greeted him and brought out an old picture of a chess event with Lombardy sitting in the front row. Handing the picture to Lombardy, he asked Lombardy if he remembered. Lombardy smiled. Then John invited him to join us the following day for a special grandmaster luncheon.

After the luncheon, while I was cleaning up, Lombardy and I talked. I asked him what I could do to improve in chess. I told him I studied games by analyzing them, but It was a very slow and time-consuming process. He suggested that I spend 10 minutes a day going quickly through as many games as possible. “That won’t work,” I responded. So he tried a different track; he asked me if I stopped it every few minutes to analyze it when I listened to music. Hmm, he had a point; I do not stop the music every few minutes while listening. Lombardy and I spent an hour or two that afternoon discussing many things. We had a wonderful time.

After that event, Lombardy often visited the MI, especially on Tuesday nights when the place was buzzing with people. Tuesday is the night of the historic Tuesday Night Marathon, which often draws more than 100 players.

As participants finish, they gather in the skittles room, a special room with walls covered with pictures of famous chess players. A tall picture of Tal smoking his cigar is on one side, a photograph of Spassky giving a simultaneous exhibition at the Mechanics Institute on the other side. Over the door to the office is a framed picture of Bobby Fischer on the cover of Time magazine. Additional pictures are scattered over the walls, such as Frank Sinatra and Walter Browne playing chess, giving the room the comfortable feeling of a home rather than a club. The room is filled with solid wooden chess tables, each with its history.

On Tuesday nights, the room is full as the players of the Tuesday night marathon stream in. “What would you have done if I played this?’’ “Why did you play this move?” “What were you thinking here?” “You nearly got me there.” “Why didn’t you play this move?”

These questions, asked quietly at various tables as players analyze their games at each table, give the room a quiet buzz of fellowship and camaraderie. Lombardy and I were sitting at one of the tables across from each other. He had been talking to one of his friends, who just had left. So I set down across from him, handing him a poem I wrote about Bobby Fischer. I always wondered if my portrayal of Bobby Fischer was accurate, and here I had someone who knew him well. I was not going to let this opportunity slip by.

At first, he was reluctant to read it, but he agreed. As he started reading the poem, I heard him comment, “I like this….” “The wording here needs to be changed…” etc. When he had finished, I looked eagerly at him. “Did I capture Bobby Fischer?” He nodded; there was a pause, and then I heard him quietly say, “It could have been me.”