"From the Diary of an Accomplice". Soviet feuilleton about pre-arranged games

This is a peculiar genre of Soviet journalism: feuilleton. Soviet state press used this form of sarcastic short stories to condemn some sort of "unbecoming" conduct. They were mostly based on reality, but with (obviously) changed names and some events exaggerated; still, it was expected from the readers to see through the tongue-in-cheek and understand the real events behind the satire.

In the following issue, Shakhmaty v SSSR #6, July 1976, there was a short article by Vladimir Dvorkovich (chess arbiter and official, father of the current FIDE President Arkady Dvorkovich), where he described playing behaviour of some new-fangled masters as quite suspicious. Perhaps the feuilleton referred to these events and players as well.

This is also a follow-up to GM Serper's article "The Secrets of Pre-Arranged Draws".

Alexander Latsis

From the Diary of an Accomplice

1. Corpus Delicti

I participated in many tournaments, but it was the first time I became complicit. Neither the chess code or criminal code have nothing against me, but still, I'm an accomplice.

I played one game better, the other one - worse, always on top of my ability. And the more I sat at the board, the more complicit I became. I gave credibility to a competition that wasn't.

What it was, then? On one hand, there was a master's norm. On the other hand, there were calculations of a couple of frauds who were sure that the lack of chess talent can always be compensated with organizational temperament and phone-calling skills. There was also a third hand. Some sport society workers plan on "accelerating" of the masters' development: in this tournament, Petr will get his master's norm, and in that tournament, Ivan will get one.

Whom was that aforementioned tournament for? Sports society Horns tried to lift up their applicant Melteshinsky, who was in their waiting list. Sports society Hooves pushed their own candidate, Telyunchik.

2. Melteshinsky

Telyunchik's silken voice brought me daily news on the topic "have they no shame at all?" Telyunchik predicted:

a) Master Gribok will lose to Melteshinsky because they're friends.

b) Candidate Master Grammov will lose too. They have a plan to swap points in different tournaments. In the Horns society championship semi-final, it's Grammov's turn to get his master's norm, and he'll get his due from Melteshinsky.

c) Master Kuksin will lose, because he and Melteshinsky were in the same college group 15 years ago...

From those a), b) and c), you could draw an obvious conclusion: Telyunchik is a gossip and just loves dishing dirt. But don't accuse Telyunchik rashly! Gribok indeed lost to Melteshinsky, at his home, to boot. Grammov lost to Melteshinsky - at his home - too. Soon, I took all Telyunchik's predictions very seriously.

Telyunchik was railing against Melteshinsky for another reason, too.

"Have you noticed? In ten rounds, Melteshinsky has never played together with everyone else. All games were played somewhere else, far from public eyes. He comes to each round and starts complaining loudly, louder than everyone: "Why are we playing in this room, not in that room? It's noisy here, and the light is better there..." And he's not even playing at all, it's only make-believe. Ah, such a despicable person, ah, ah, ah..."

Melteshinsky played Kuksin in the tournament hall, everyone saw their game, for a change. But nobody approached them to look at the onerous procedure of getting the needed result.

When it was my turn, Melteshinsky said, "I want to offer you a draw without playing. We may not even play at all..."

"I'm accustomed to sitting at the real chess board."

"You didn't understand! Of course, at the board... I just chose my words wrong..."

"I probably didn't understand you, indeed. But you know, I'm accustomed to sitting at the real chess boards and making real chess moves."

It just so happened that Melteshinsky lost to me... To reach his norm, he had to defeat Master Chaikov, who led in the tournament. The day before, Chaikov played me. Around the 20th move, the master blundered (or sacrificed) a central pawn. After some hesitation, I took the pawn and went for a walk in the corridor. And then, Melteshinsky delivered an incredible monologue, which showed his fantasy, ingenuity and wrong - in this case - evaluation of our position in the game.

3. Melteshinsky's Monologue

"He's an orphan! He has nobody! You don't know him. I know how he grew up. It's a very important game for him, he's nervous. If he gets the first place, he'll get a raise at his factory. 20 more rubles a month! Reward for chess successes, they're watching that kind of thing carefully.

It's unconfortable for him to offer a draw: he's a master, and he's a pawn behind. I ask you not as a chess player, but as a fellow himan being: offer him a draw! I don't know how else to ask you. I'm not asking for myself... He might attack rashly and lose! It's going to be horrible!"

I immediately understood what he really meant. If the master loses now, he won't be able to "gift" the candidate a point. Else, the master himself won't reach the norm, and his verification date is close...

As expected, Chaikov adjourned the game with an extra pawn and some winning chances. Then Melteshinsky "defeated" Chaikov, completely forgetting that by doing that, he, Melteshinsky, a) deprived Chaikov of the opportunity to win the tournament; b) deprived the master of some mythic pay rise; c) hurt an orphan...

I don't know how Melteshinsky grew up. Ten or so years ago, I saw him as one of the strongest and most talented young candidates. I wouldn't be surprized if he reached the master's norm in a real, competitive tournament... But ten years have passed. The nervous system isn't as strong as before. The non-chess talks have messed with his head. And so, a serious, grown-up player got so worried about his master's norm that he started improvizing some stupid nonsense. "Take pity of the orphan!"

Was Melteshinsky's loss to me accidental? Yes, it was. He's still stronger than me, even now. And no, it wasn't. He entered the world of pre-arranged chess, and he was afraid when he was faced with real competitive struggle. He wasn't afraid of me. He was afraid of chess, which is, in essence, very fair and always ruthlessly punish the frauds, liars, weak-willed people.

Why didn't I call the characters of this feuilleton by their real names? Because someone who got off the right track, but still can return to it, should not be stigmatized for life. He can still become a fighting player, who loves the harsh, sometimes inhumanly difficult struggle of minds and characters. I'm writing this feuilleton precisely because I still believe in Melteshinsky!

4. Telyunchik

And do I believe in Telyunchik? It's hard to say. You can't determine his real chess strength with anything. He's eager to play blitz, but he's quite a mediocre blitz player. I can't remember if he ever played in the candidate masters' tournament. Most people think he's a first category-strength player. This, of course, doesn't exactly make him a worthy candidate for a master's title.

In the "tournament that wasn't", Telyunchik won a "demonstrative" game against a master. The game was, as Germans say, "below the police minimum of ethics". The master didn't just "open up" all the weaknesses at the board. He made, if I can say, "hinting" moves, inviting the opponent to counter-attack with tempo.

Telyunchik cajoled me as much as he could. By his logic, Melteshinsky was a bad man, because "they" pushed him unfairly for his master's norm. So, in retaliation, "we" should unfairly push him, Telyunchik. When this logic failed to sway me, he made a very transparent offer: "Do you like free rides? I'm currently doing some community work with the Hooves society, and can offer you something..."

He tried a third tack afterwards: "Can we postpone the game?"

"This will not help you! I'm playing not for norm, not for chances - I'm playing for chess."

There were three more phone calls on the game day. The last time, he told me, "Just don't push too hard, please..."

Shortly before the end of the tournament, Telyunchik asked me, "Do you think they'll award me with the master's title?"

"Frankly, no. The tournament table looks more like a train timetable. Two masters needed to confirm their titles, and they did exactly that. Two candidates have reached the norm... And the masters' games between each other are mostly fifteen-move draws. Some of them were even pre-arranged before actually sitting at the board. Blatant cheating. And the fact that two candidates reach the norm at once doesn't help their case either..."

"And what if we do this? Chaikov in his adjourned game against me pressed too hard to win and loses. Then I'll score more than necessary and finish half-point ahead of Melteshinsky. Would that be better?"

...This "prediction" also came true. Telyunchik got another win.

I think that he, Telyunchik, never feels any shame for his deeds. And if something doesn't go according to plan, if he fails again, he'll never learn from that. He'll never change. He'll explain everything his way. He'll say that it was someone's revenge, or cunning schemes, someone was even more adept at cheating than he was. He just had to be more aggressive in his quid pro quo offers...

5. Gribok

You know what? If Telyunchik so desperately wants to get a high sporting title, let him have it! He won't loosen his grip on you... Better give him that title! As one chess poet said, "at least we'll know exactly who's the weakest of all our chess masters!"

Alas, if someone gets a master's title without necessary strength, it won't lead to anything good. Here's a good example. Gribok was considered one of the strongest Candidate Masters. He played tournament after tournament, gradually increasing his strength. He was very affable and polite. All in all, he's a well-behaved, suave, sympathetic man. And this ;ast quality was the one that failed him. Well-intentioned friends (including the really talented Chaikov, who, sadly, is always ready to throw a game to helf a friend) flooded him with points. A good-playing candidate turned into a match-fixing master. Out of prestige considerations, he stopped playing even blitz against Candidate Masters and first-category players. And against masters, he can't really perform, either in blitz or in serious chess.

In our tournament, he would beg all other masters for draws before their games. Here are his phone talks with Master Glukhonemetsky: "I offer a draw." "No, we're going to play!" "OK, in the Brekekekex Club then." "OK, Brekekekex Club that is." "But not on Monday..." "Tuesday?" "No, I can't." "Wednesday?" "I can't." "Friday?" "No, I'm busy." "What do you offer then?" "I offer a draw."

After the two-week repetition, Glukhonemetsky finally "resigned to a draw."

Gribok now plays even weaker than in the days when he was a Candidate Master. Chess needs constant practice - of competitive, not pre-arranged sort.

The position looks quite false. There's a Master Gribok - and at the same time, there's no such master. And instead of smiling constantly, he's now frowning all the time. He wants to eat his cake and to have it too. And so, he doesn't play. The career of a chess player isn't that long. In ten years or so, his playing strength will start deteriorating with age. And he spent his best years behind a phone reciever rather than behind the board.

* * *

There always were and always will be people who didn't get their master's title due to some random occurrence. They were occupied otherwise, or decided to quit chess and pursue other careers, or whatever.

We need to prevent the possibility of people randomly getting masters' titles.

We need to preserve the sportsmanlike, creative, human dignity of high chess titles. Perhaps we should speak more openly about such suspicious tournament manipulations. How else can we eradicate such "pre-arranged" deals?

Here's also Vladimir Dvorkovich's article, for context.

With Title Comes Responsibility

There are more than 600 masters in our country. The line-up of highly-qualified chess players is constantly replenished with new names. This is a natural process, and its legitimacy is proven by successful performances of many new masters. Sadly, however, other things happen too...

M. Novikov got his master's norm in the semi-final of the Leningrad championship, and then finished last in the final, with 4.5/15. The next semifinal was also disappointing: another bad performance got him relegated to unconfirmed masters...

E. Bakhmatov (Dnepropetrovsk) became a master in February 1975 through a championship of the Lokomotiv sports society, but in the Ukrainian Trade Union Council championship the same year he scored just 2/15, not winning a single game.

New masters often show very modest results. This is especially true for some players who got their master norms in "open", non-qualifying tournaments.

You would think that there's nothing wrong with "open" tournaments. The masters come to share their experience, show their playing class and help with the growth of local players. In most cases, however, the masters don't show everything they're capable of, and sometimes they play very sloppily. Moreover, organizers of such tournaments often invite masters who didn't have any successes that gave them moral right to be examiners, or those who only just got their masters' norms.

V. Alterman (Simferopol), O. Donchenko (Kyiv), V. Zhidkov (Kyiv), V. Zaltzman (Dnepropetrovsk), A. Alekseev, V. Muratov, D. Zilberstein (all Moscow), A. Donchenko, A. Shvedchikov (Moscow Oblast), L. Krutyansky (Leningrad) often play in such open tournaments, but they don't get many successful results here. And if we look closer, we'll see that the masters lose or draw the norm candidates, and defeat players from the lower side of the table.

For instance. A. Alekseev from 19th February to 30th April 1975 played in the open Lithuanian and Latvian championships (with two-week rests), with results +3-1=27! (He lost to the winner of the Lithuanian championship.)

V. Zhidkov in Grodno lost to one of the candidate masters vying for the norm and defeated the four players who finished last. It's also characteristic that guest players always draw each other without any struggle.

The Leningrad champion, M. Tseitlin, played in six tournaments last year, and some of his results certainly raise eyebrows. For instance, in the Odessa Club championship, he scored 6.5/13, losing to N. Lehkiy, who got his master's norm, and in Grodno, scoring 8.5/14, he lost to one of the candidate masters and defeated all underdogs.

Such attitude towards tournaments, the lack of self-discipline leads to loss of playing qualities. Perhaps that's why in his most important tournament of the year, the All-Union Qualification Tournament, M. Tseitlin finished well below the qualifying line and failed to get into the First League of the Soviet championship.

It's very hard to follow the migrations of O. Dementyev (Kaliningrad). An experienced master, who played in the Soviet championship final and won the Russian SFSR championship, has played in a lot of open tournaments lately. But the lack of creative strictness and self-discipline led Dementyev, like Tseitlin, to a failure in the All-Union Qualification Tournament. He shared... 37th-48th places. Dementyev had no time to play in the next semi-final of the Russian SFSR championship (he was playing in an "open" tournament), and then he started this year by playing in the Lithuanian and Latvian championships...

The facts show that the masters who take part in open tournaments sometimes play irresponsibly. I hope that the new individual coefficient-based classification that will be introduced in 1977 will limit such occurrences, but this phenomenon can be fully eradicated only after the chess players themselves understand that with the high title of master comes responsibility.