The Longest Climb
Most masters sprint to their title, Franklin Chen hiked.
While many titled players reach 2200 in their teens or early twenties, Franklin became a US National Master at 45 (which kind of makes him the opposite of a prodigy), after a twenty year break and more than one painful “almost.”
His path looked ready to end in quiet regret. Instead, it became a long grind, full of honest self reflection, setbacks that hurt but teach, and a training approach any serious amateur can copy. You get more than “feel good inspiration.” You get a practical template for adult chess growth when life, work, and age feel like they pull against you.Back to Top
How he actually improved (and how you can, too)
Setbacks, choking, and letting go of rating
The mindset of an improving master
Three concrete training ideas you can use this week
Franklin’s chess life started in a familiar way, a talented kid, a proud chess dad, and quick rating gains that drew attention. In his early tournaments, he climbed from the 1500s to the 1600s, then to expert strength, and older players started calling him “talented.”
Inside, he did not feel like a future master. He met Ben Finegold, a year younger and already clearly stronger, and saw the gap between “talented local kid” and “real master.”
At the same time, adult expectations grew, school, “serious careers,” and a sense that chess was not a respectable long term focus. When his results stuck in the 1700–2000 range, the external praise faded, and no clear support structure appeared to help him climb higher.
So he did what many people quietly do, he quit.
There was no dramatic farewell event. Around the mid 1980s, he simply stopped playing, went to college, went to grad school, and built a life outside chess. For nearly 20 years, he did not follow elite events, did not study openings, did not visit clubs. Chess became a sealed box in his past.
If you have taken months or years off and told yourself, “That was my chance, it is gone now,” you are already inside Franklin’s story. The first half of his journey matches what many adult improvers fear, the dream simply goes quiet.
The comeback did not start with a bold promise like “I will become a master.” It started with curiosity and unfinished business. In his mid 30s, Franklin noticed something troubling, his 5K race times slowed, his energy dipped, and he felt a growing sense of unresolved childhood goals. One of those goals was chess.
He did not return as a competitor at first. He returned as a scientist. He installed chess engines and pulled out complicated games from his youth, wild sacrifices, unclear attacks, and asked a specific question, “Was I playing good chess?” That small analytical project reopened a door he thought was closed forever.
Then came the turning point, John Watson’s “Chess Strategy in Action,” a book he found in a public library. Franklin says it “completely altered” his view of chess, shifting his focus from memorizing narrow lines to understanding rich, flexible strategic ideas.
Chess stopped being a childhood contest he had abandoned and became an adult intellectual field he could still study in depth. He rejoined the USCF, started reading seriously, and returned to tournament play around 2005, almost two decades after his previous events.
Rust hit hard, calculation slowed, simple tactics slipped, and past “glory days” did not help against fresh opposition. This time, he refused to lean on vague “talent.” He treated chess as a skill he would rebuild piece by piece. By 2006–2007, he not only recovered his old level, he passed it, climbing past 2100 and then 2150 for the first time. Only then, in his late 30s, did he set a goal that once felt unreachable, become a National Master.
The first main lesson from his return is simple, you do not need to be a prodigy if you stay consistent.
How he actually improved (and how you can, too)
Chess improvement stories often sound magical, “I worked hard and one day everything clicked.” That does not describe Franklin’s story. His improvement method stays concrete, repeatable, and grounded in habits you can use. You can sort his method into structured, practical steps you apply to your own training, with focus on your games and weaknesses.
Deep game analysis instead of shallow review
When Franklin returned, he did not “skim” his games. He studied them with engines and a critical eye. He wanted to see not only which moves failed, but why his thinking led him there. This matches a key rule of strong training, you review mistakes in depth and search for patterns instead of scrolling through blunders.
One step by step routine you can use:
Write down your thoughts before turning on the engine
What scared moves scared me?
Which lines did I examine and reject?
Turn on the engine only after that.
Mark three recurring error types, tactical blindness (missed forks, tactics), evaluation errors (believing a position wins when it is equal), and time management issues.
Create a small file or notebook with these patterns.
Every two weeks, read it again and build a short training block (puzzles, endgames, specific structures) around one recurring weakness.
Over time, you start to do what Franklin did, you stop blaming “luck” and start fixing the real leaks in your thinking.
Study the whole game
A major shift in Franklin’s improvement came when he moved away from opening fixation. He still used opening theory, but grounded it in understanding typical middlegame structures and endgames. Watson’s book and classic games sat at the center of his training. Strong players often report early gains from basic principles and tactics, then later progress needs deeper strategic ideas and endgame skill.
Actionable steps:
For each main opening you play, select 3–5 model games by strong players. Annotate them lightly, note where the opening ends, how the middlegame structure forms, and what kind of endgame appears often.
In your own games, when you reach a known structure, pause and recall one relevant model game, “What did the strong player try here?”
Set a weekly “endgame day” where you study one type of ending, rook endings, basic king and pawn, then more complex positions, because many points at 1500–2000 hinge on endgame skill.
Franklin’s progress past 2100 did not come from learning one more move in his favorite line. It came from understanding positions more deeply than his opponents.
Below I have an example of Franklin Chen's game in the above photo, where I explain how you should be analysing your games according to the steps above.
Structured, evolving training phases
Strong improvement often follows a pattern, each rating band has its own weaknesses, and the training focus shifts, first rules and simple principles, then tactics, then strategy, then filling gaps. Franklin’s path shares this rhythm, on a higher and longer track.
As a kid, his plays had limited strategic base and was mostly talent driven In his mid 30s return, he relied heavily on engines and books, especially strategic texts, to rebuild understanding. From rating 2000–2150, he shifted to deeper understanding and removed excess from his repertoire, leaning more on classic games.
You can copy this by treating your journey as phases, not one endless grind:
Phase 1 (to about 1200): Learn rules, basic principles, avoid hanging pieces, and play many games.
Phase 2 (about 1200–1600): Focus on tactics, basic endgames, and simple strategic ideas (weak squares, open files, good and bad bishops).
Phase 3 (about 1600–1900): Train structured calculation, study deeper strategy, and review games with engines and stronger players.
Phase 4 (1900+): Specialize (pawn structures, typical endgames) and work hard on psychological and practical issues like time management, pressure, and resilience.
Throughout all of these phases try to play against stronger players to you, it'll teach you how better opponents punish your moves and what you need to do to win these games.
Franklin effectively ran his own version of Phase 3 and 4 in his mid 30s and 40s, proof these steps do not depend on age.
Setbacks, choking, and letting go of rating
If the story stopped here, it would look tidy, adult returns, studies seriously, clears childhood peak, becomes master. The most human and instructive part of Franklin’s journey appears when he gets close and then slips.
Around 2009, he married and essentially stopped playing again, feeling chess did not fit with new responsibilities. Later efforts to “jump back in” between 2010 and 2012 went poorly, rust and pressure combined, and his results declined.
In April 2014, Franklin reached 2195 USCF. He stood one win against a 1800 rated player away from 2200. He obtained a winning position, rook up, and then collapsed, losing the game. The failure did not stay isolated. He describes this period as repeated “choking” in key games, where nerves took over when stakes felt high. Life added pressure.
You can learn directly from this pattern:
Treat each event as one step in a long process instead of “the” tournament.
Treat plateaus and setbacks as cues to adjust your methods, not as verdicts on talent.
Franklin’s breakthrough arrived in 2015, and it centered on mindset, he stopped tracking whether each game would “finally” push him over 2200. In the event where he earned NM, he made a point of not checking live rating projections or obsessing over “must win” stakes. He focused on playing good moves each game and trusted his years of work.
At that point the choking ended. He finished the tournament and only then looked at his rating and saw 2200+. National Master at 45. For anyone trying to improve, this offers more than a pleasant ending.
It offers a method for handling pressure:
Set ambitious rating goals.
During each game, focus only on process goals, sound preparation, full concentration, honest review afterwards, and avoid live rating math while you play, it'll only affect you psychologically if you "need" to win the game, and so you'll play worse.
The mindset of an improving master
By the time Franklin reached 2200, he was not a full time chess professional. He was a working adult, writer, and coach who made time to play and study. His mindset sits closer to that of a typical club player than to a 12 year old prodigy with endless tournaments.
Here are some mindset principles that marked his journey and that you can build for yourself to help you improve too.
Mindset principle 1: Improvement as identity, not a phase
Franklin does not speak of “finishing” chess once he gained the NM title. In his own words, after 2012 he focused on writing and teaching, and he states he is “not done improving yet.” He plays local events when time allows, partly to model behavior for his students, “walking the walk” of constant improvement. This supports a simple identity shift, improvement works best when you treat it as an ongoing lifestyle, not a one time sprint to a single rating.
Actionable exercise:
Rewrite your chess identity statement from “I want to reach X rating” to “I am a serious player, trying to improve, who studies and plays thoughtfully for the long term.” Place this where you see it near your board or desk.
Mindset principle 2: Treat plateaus as feedback loops
Franklin hit major plateaus twice, as a teen near expert level and later at the edge of master. His breakthroughs arrived only when he treated those plateaus as feedback. As a youth, he reevaluated his repertoire and leaned more on classical games and core strategy. As an adult, he rebuilt his strategic base, then later faced his psychological weaknesses in tense games.
You can follow the same structure, view each rating band as “What I see in myself and my opponents” plus “What helps me pass this level,” so ratings become diagnostic markers instead of fixed labels.
Practical exercise:
Find your current “rating band” (for example, 1100–1300, 1500–1700, 1900–2100). Describe in one short paragraph what you see in yourself and opponents, blunders, time trouble, lack of plan, passive play under pressure. Then list 2–3 clear training changes tuned to that band. This becomes your personal “Step X” based on Franklin’s model.
Mindset principle 3: Build a supportive ecosystem
Franklin’s growth depended heavily on his surroundings. As a child, support felt inconsistent and expectations clashed. As an adult, he had more control and later direct encouragement from his wife Abby, which he credits as important for his success. Writing about chess and teaching students also created accountability and community. Improvers who progress long term often point to the same pattern, friends, coaches, clubs, online groups, or a single training partner who helps them stay consistent.
Actionable steps:
Find at least one training partner slightly stronger than you and commit to a weekly session, one training game plus shared analysis.
Share your improvement goals in a club or online group and post periodic progress updates, so you build story based accountability around your training.
Three concrete training ideas you can use this week
To stay true to this spirit, here are three practical training patterns inspired by Franklin’s habits that you can apply right away.
Idea 1: The “Model Game Monday”
Inspired by Franklin’s use of classical games and Watson’s strategic examples:
Once a week, select one high quality annotated game in an opening or structure you already play.
Review it without an engine, guess moves at key moments and write your reasoning.
When you finish, compare your notes with the annotations, then, in your next games, actively steer toward similar structures and apply what you learned.
This habit slowly builds the deep positional sense that supported Franklin’s adult progress.
Idea 2: The “Honest Loss Audit”
Drawn from Franklin’s introspective analysis and modern training advice:
Take your last 10 losses (OTB or serious online) and assign each one a main cause, opening trouble, missed tactic, poor time use, weak endgame technique, or psychological collapse.
Count how many losses fit each cause. The largest group becomes your training focus for the next 2–4 weeks.
During that period, set a narrow goal, “I will work on rook endgames,” or “I will solve 20 tactical puzzles per day and always take 5–10 seconds to blunder check during games.”
This pattern follows Franklin’s habit of using engines and old games to spot specific weaknesses and then target them directly.
Idea 3: The “Pressure Simulation Session”
Franklin’s last barrier was psychological, he choked when he believed a game “defined” his future as a player. You face the same pressure when a single result feels like your whole identity.
Once a week, play one serious rapid game (for example, 15+10 or 30+0) with a self imposed “high stakes” story (“I get only one game today, this decides my tournament”).
During the game, watch when nerves rise, winning positions, time scrambles, tough higher rated opponents.
After the game, write 3–5 sentences about what you felt and which moves fear or greed changed. Use that for next week’s session.
Over time, you teach yourself to perform under pressure as Franklin did in his final master making event, focused on move quality, not rating numbers.
P.S. One way I improve by playing against tougher rated opponents online is by setting my match "rating range" to -25 to infinity. Basically what this does is it only pairs you against people with ratings of a minimum 25 rating points lower than you, meaning on average you play against higher rated players, shown below in this image
Franklin Chen’s journey to National Master at 45 is not a fairy tale. It is a long, sometimes messy climb, early promise, 20 years of silence, an analytical return in his 30s, progress past old plateaus, painful collapses near his goal, and finally a calm, focused performance that carried him over 2200. Along the way, he changed how he studied, how he thought at the board, and how he viewed rating, pressure, and identity.
Strong improvement stories share a common core, honest reporting, clear phases of growth, setbacks turned into lessons, and practical routines readers copy. Franklin’s path belongs in that pattern, not because of his title alone, but because of what his experience says to every adult improver:
Your age is not your ceiling.
Your plateaus are not verdicts.
Your breaks are not the end of the story.
So pause and ask yourself:
Which rating “chapter” are you in now, and what does it demand from your training. What unfinished chess goal sits with you today, an opening you want to understand, a tournament you want to enter, a rating you quietly aim for.
What one small, concrete change will you make this week, Model Game Monday, an Honest Loss Audit, a Pressure Simulation Session, or something else that works for you, that your future self will view as a turning point.
Franklin did not reach master by sprinting through childhood. He reached it by returning, studying smarter, and refusing to stop when the story felt uncomfortable. If you adopt the same spirit your own long climb can continue rising, no matter what number appears next to your username today.
