Introduction

Steam billowed from my ears, streams of nonsense calculations stumbled through my brain. An enticing knight move lit up my eyes and my trembling hand hovered over the mouse. A bead of sweat dripped down my forehead — survival Puzzle Rush sometimes got intense. Holding my breath, I gingerly released my knight and... whoops.

I groaned as I saw the red X symbol representing my grave lapse in judgement. The pathetic score of 30 was printed in large bold letters on my computer screen, and my eyes darted to the time: 3:00 AM on my bedside clock. Why am I doing this?

One day... I'll reach 2000 rapid rating.

It was a promise I made to myself, and it kept me motivated through losses, plateaus, and other saddening setbacks. I shared this goal with millions of other chess enthusiasts across all skill levels. Each game I won, puzzle I solved, and strategy I learned brought me another small step closer towards this momentous milestone.

I was stuck at 1800-1900 for an obscene amount of time, but finally, after years of being a nerd, I touched 2000 last October. In the moment, it felt like reaching the summit of a tall mountain, or achieving checkmate on a chessboard. But there's one drawback to having a checkmate position: you can't keep on playing.

For me, after reaching 2000 at last, there was no scenic view from the top of the mountain. Any grand sense of accomplishment faded away as I realized I was still the same patzer, but with a slightly larger number attached to my name. I figured out that comparing 2000 rating to the peak of a mountain is wildly inaccurate. In fact, it's largely people below 2000 who think of it as a distant holy grail. It was more like finishing a thick book and realizing that it was the first in a ten-part series, each volume more complex than the last.

So instead of elo milestone euphoria, I felt... bored. I took a short break from chess. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Pretty soon I'd filled in the time I spent grinding chess with more useful endeavors. One day I looked back and realized that I'd quit chess. But I didn't mind.

Of course, like chronic back pain and the Terminator, the 'chess bug' always comes back. Chess videos arrived uninvited to my YouTube feed, and a friend who once was my far inferior bragged about achieving the menacing rating of 2300. How could I let myself be surpassed by that cretin?

So last month, I made the questionable decision to click the large green Play button once again. Though I lost, it didn't drain my motivation this time, and in fact, I wanted to play more and get better. 

That’s what I did over the month of March as I returned to chess after a long break. In this blog, I'll write about how I continued climbing the chess mountain while focusing more on the journey. I hope the advice I share will help you achieve your rating goals much faster than I achieved mine.

Approach to Chess

Before I so much as lifted a rook, I thought back to my previous chess habits which led to burnout, and made some changes to my attitude.

Firstly, I spent too much time playing chess. Many hours every day were wasted poring over opening books and courses, or blitzing out puzzle after puzzle. I also took chess way too seriously, focusing to an unhealthy degree on improvement and results. My self-worth was tied to my rating, and each rapid game used to feel like an exam! (I did worse on my real exams too, but that's a different problem)

This month, I wanted to do things differently. I drastically cut back on the amount of time spent on chess. While this does lead to slower improvement, my mental well-being comes first.

I shifted my mindset, too. I worked on being kinder to myself after playing poorly, and deleted my numeric improvement goals to prioritize learning instead.

Most importantly, I removed some self-imposed restrictions, like my permanent ban on bullet chess. I thought it'd help me improve, but really it just sucked the joy out of the game. I reminded myself that I'm playing chess for fun, not to be a grandmaster, so I would benefit from doing more fun stuff like flagging slowpokes in bullet.

So, will this perspective shift really help? Let's break it down into six main facets:

• Playing Games
• Game Analysis
• Tactics
• Strategy
• Endgames
• Openings

In each of these sections I'll detail what I did to have fun and improve, what I changed from last time, and whether you should emulate my methods.

Playing Games

Luckily for those who want to have fun as they get better, the best improvement method is also the most enjoyable — playing games. There's no substitute for the hands-on experience of playing. But choosing how to play comes with some nuances. I see many players, especially beginners, confused about this. How many games should I play in a day? Should I play online or OTB? What time control should I play?

The common advice, "if you want to improve, don't play blitz" is sound and well-meant. But 99% of us want to have fun too, and there's nothing wrong with throwing in some quicker games.

A few months ago, with my pristine archive of solely rapid games, I would've scoffed at the idea of playing 'brainrot' speed chess. But this time around, I mixed in a few other time controls, and it added an element of fun back into my chess routine.

Bullet

In the past, I'd bullet like the plague. I saw it as building bad habits. In most bullet games, I aimlessly attack my opponent's pieces or threaten random tactics, hoping the other player somehow misses them. While these dodgy strategies are effective in short time controls, at least at my level, such tomfoolery would never fly in the slow, methodical world of rapid chess (read: real chess).

So when a friend challenged me to a few offhand bullet games, I had to go against years of built-up bullet hate as I accepted his offer.

After the above disaster and many more that I'm too ashamed to share, I thought I could take a well-earned break from the fast-paced commotion of bullet. I was mistaken.

On one long and boring bus ride, I opened up the Chess.com app and the '1 min' button was looking exceptionally tempting. I clicked it. I was expecting to get crushed, since I hadn't played rated bullet games in months, and I was playing on mobile. Surprisingly, I stole two wins after playing like garbage and ended up with an oddly high bullet rating:

Now I can brag about reaching 2200 online to all two of my chess-playing friends, though my true rating is a measly 2100. After the above miracle, I haven't played any more rated bullet games... for completely unrelated reasons of course.

Blitz

On one sad day during this month of growth, I lost a casual blitz game to a 1500-rated opponent. Yes, I actually lost! Unbelievable, right?

This preposterous turn of events filled me with uncontainable sadness and rage. I felt the urge to prove to myself that I'm not that horrible at blitz, so I started a rated blitz game out of frustration. Kids... don't try this at home! Rushing into games with a weak mindset is a surefire way to tilt and have your ego crushed some more.

But for me, the rage-induced blitz session was unexpectedly productive. I won both my games and, with my massive rating deviation, skyrocketed to 2100. I decided to quit while I was ahead — looking back, that was one of the smartest decisions I've made. Now I can brag about reaching 2100 online to all two of my chess-playing friends, though my true rating is a measly 2000.

Apart from those two lonely online games, my only other blitz experience came at a local chess club. My friend invited me to an OTB blitz tournament. Like a true chess nerd, I dropped all my plans to push some wood!

I got a score of 4/5 in the tournament and tied for second. I lost the penultimate game to the tournament winner. He also happened to be the tournament director, so I'm pretty sure he rigged the pieces in his favor! The other participants were mostly casual players, rated from 600-1400, so I picked up some easy wins in the remaining games. Still, the tournament was definitely the highlight of my chess adventure last month, as I met some fantastic people and played some thrilling games.

Rapid

My favourite time control is rapid. It's the perfect balance for me. Rapid lets me think deeply, and not lose every game because of time, without taking up hours and hours like classical. I usually play 15+10.

A few months ago, reaching 2000 in this very time control ultimately led me to quit chess. The hardest part about getting back into rapid was getting started and overcoming the fear of dropping below 2000. Luckily, losing that first game was exposure therapy for me — I dropped to 1994. I managed to win the next game, reaching 2000 again, and haven't looked back ever since.  

As you can see below, my secret method of setting rating filters to -25 and +∞ has paid off. Aside from inflating my rating and ego a little bit, it also makes me face my fear of playing high-rated opponents.

Yes, I've played fifteen whole games. A truly monumental achievement.

Jokes aside, I know people who manage to play 10+ rapid games in a single day. How do you guys have the time and energy to do all that? The most rapid games I played in one day was three. I lost them all, so now you know why! Some days I stop after one. Some days I play none and just stare at my rating in melancholy. Focusing on quality over quantity has worked wonders for me and these days I rarely experience tilts in rapid.

At the time of writing this blog, my rapid rating is 2023, with an earlier peak of 2028. Though my rating hasn't really gone up, I consider being able to play games and maintain 2000 to be improvement in itself. Besides, I have absolutely no doubt that 2050 will follow soon, then 2100, 2200, etc. If I stay consistent in playing chess, the improvement must come!

Classical

Unfortunately, I haven't been able to play any classical games this month.

I might return to OTB classical soon, but though I've been eyeing the Upcoming Tournaments page, I haven't committed to anything yet. Honestly, I feel unprepared. It may take me a couple months to shake off the rust and build up confidence. 

I do still have a goal to complete 30 classical games by the end of 2025. To get it done, I signed up for a classical tournament organized by an online club. I play my first game in early April, and I'll definitely write a blog about how I perform in those slow games.

Correspondence

I've decided to start three casual correspondence games. I like correspondence chess because it's just as instructive as rapid/classical but doesn't require you to set aside a significant chunk of time. I don't have to sheepishly offer draws in winning positions if I get interrupted mid-game — not that that's ever happened to me...

As a serial procrastinator, I have a bad habit of leaving my correspondence games until the last few hours. Then, inevitably, life gets in the way, chess games slip my mind, and my clock bleeds out. Now, though, I'm locked in. No more losing on time — this time I vow to lose at the hand of my own blunders.

Final Thoughts

Here are the three main things I've come to believe over the past month:

• If your goal isn't strictly improvement, include any time controls you want in your chess games! Just like people fit cheat meals into their workout plans, you can include bullet in your chess training.
• I play much better if I reduce the number of games I play per day.
• I suck equally at all time controls!

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Game Analysis

Playing chess games is all well and good, but most of the growth comes from reflecting on the mistakes you made. I've read countless strong players preach the instructional value of post-game analyses, and even had the audacity to parrot this advice to others, but I must confess: I almost never analyze my own games.

Part of this, I'm ashamed to admit, comes from ego. It's difficult to spend hours gawking at a chessboard just to lose horribly and humiliatingly, then methodically determine exactly where and why I lost horribly and humiliatingly. I'd rather run a Game Review in a couple seconds than actually confront my shortcomings myself. Part of this also comes from laziness — it's much more fun to rush back into the thrill of battle by clicking the 'Play Again' button than engage in hours of dull contemplation. 

I decided to change that this month. If I was going to get back into chess and continue to make hideous blunders, I may as well squeeze some learning out of them! More importantly, self-analysis helps me build a healthier attitude towards chess. Facing my mistakes head-on is humbling, but it teaches me that hanging a piece isn't the end of the world. So I promised myself that I wouldn't play the next game until I properly analyzed my first. 

I followed the self-analysis method described in my earlier blog. First, I annotated my game with the thoughts behind each move. Nothing crazy, just explaining my decision-making process. Then, I carefully scrutinized the game myself with no outside assistance, coming up with my own ideas and drawing my own conclusions. I added more annotations based on my analysis. Lastly, I compared my reflection to the computer's cold calculations to unearth errors in my thought process.

For this blog, I chose three games which stood out to me for their positional charm, instructive moments, or abundant blunders.

Game #1

This was the first rapid game during my journey, played on March 10th, and it's one of the worst in this timeframe. It makes sense, because I was the most rusty at this time, and playing a rapid game was an impulse decision. I lost, and I fell below 2000 elo for the first time since I reached 2000 elo.

Below is the game with my annotations. Note that I didn't use the engine at all, so be wary of any nonsense presented confidently as fact.

After I finished annotating, I checked it over with the computer. Surprisingly, it agreed with me in many cases. For example, I correctly pinpointed 19.Nf3? as the mistake which cost me the game. Even more shocking to me was that the alternative moves 19.Qg3 Qb6 20.h4, which I wrote down in my analysis as being White's best option, turns out to be the top engine line. Though I'm proud of these successes, there are a handful of instances when the engine pointed out my errors in analysis:

• 10...b6 is not a positional mistake, as I thought it was. In reality, Black gets some open lines and extra space from all the piece trades, and White has a hard time getting to the weak pawns. The position after Black's 12th move is equal.
• 18.Nc5?? was not a good move. It turns out to be a game-losing blunder after Black's tactical shot 18...Nd5! picking up a knight.

I think I did well for my first time analyzing a game by myself. The last thing I did in this process was note down the reason(s) why I lost the game. I felt the above loss happened due to underestimating my opponent's ideas and managing my time poorly.

Game #2

The below is the last rapid game I've played at the time of writing this blog. I can make out improvements in my play: my calculations were clearer, I blundered less, and my conversion was solid. The other notable difference is that I actually won this one! 

From the opening itself, I felt I was at a disadvantage, and then my opponent led me into the dreaded queenless middlegame. Their space advantage and advanced pawns squeezed me on the queenside. Feeling anxious but not giving up, I stumbled out one piece after another. Slowly, my position began to improve. I applied some slight pressure and my opponent cracked, allowing a tactical shot that won me a bit of material.

Once again I must warn you: I didn't use the engine, so don't trust anything you read in the below game annotations.

After I finished annotating, I 'checked my answers' with the computer's suggestions and it confirmed some parts of my analyses while correcting others.

• I was under the impression that White had an edge after 8...Qxb3, but it's actually equal.
• I thought 23...Bg6?? was a clever defensive move when it could've cost me the game. The line 24.c6 Nb6 25.h4! puts huge pressure on the g6-bishop, which has a crucial role in defending the f7-pawn. As I pointed out, allowing this pawn to be captured would collapse my whole position. If White found this idea they would've been almost winning.

This game was a show of resilience as I fought hard in what I thought was a terrible situation. I also think I displayed some decent endgame technique, especially considering that I was under immense time pressure. The analysis showed me that my position was never that bad in the first place, and that maybe I should stop underestimating my chances.

Game #3

This was a big game.

Most of my games in the pool are against other 2000-rated players, who suck just like me. On this occasion, though, I had the opportunity to face a mighty 2200. Seeing this massive number attached to my opponent's name filled me with equal parts fear and determination. Games against such high-level opponents are always instructive and interesting, even though (spoiler alert!) I got crushed. 

The computer, ever heartless in its quest to humiliate me in my own blog, points out the following mistakes in my annotations:

• I left various opponent inaccuracies, such as 21...Qh6? and 33...Ra1?!, unmarked by any slanderous punctuation. Perhaps out of (undue) respect for my opponent's rating?
• I missed 30...Bh5! which wins Black a pawn and gives them a strong passed pawn too. Luckily, my opponent missed this in the actual game.

The knight I hung gave my opponent an insurmountable advantage in the endgame. But I think the real reason I lost is a little bit deeper. After a tiny slip-up, I was completely miserable in a position that was only marginally worse. The high rating got to my head! I also mishandled that endgame even before I hung the piece. With focus, determination and careful technique, I could've held the draw. Unfortunately, I have none of those things.

Final Thoughts

Analyzing games for the first time ever has been both surprisingly difficult and surprisingly fun. At the start, the process was very time-consuming because I was a perfectionist and didn't want to get shown up by the computer. I pored over every single position, trying to unearth improvements for both sides. Towards the end, though, my attitude shifted a bit towards "just get it done so I can play the next game". The last few analyses weren't terribly worse, so I suppose I became more efficient. Analysis is fun because it's relaxing to investigate chess positions without the pressure of a clock ticking and the need to make a move.

I read in another blog (not that you guys should ever cheat on me by reading other blogs) about an improvement method involving a spreadsheet filled with chess losses and the reasons behind them. While organizing all my failures so neatly would definitely help with introspection, it also must be insanely depressing. I can't see myself ever doing something like that.

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Tactics

After the extended break from chess, the most rusty aspect of my gameplay was my tactical skills. I was disheartened to find that my pattern recognition had eroded from the lack of practice. My 3-minute Puzzle Rush score used to average around 37–38, and these days I struggle to scrape 35. When I calculate deep lines, I feel as if I'm wearing a pair of extremely foggy glasses. Even the simplest combinations inexplicably evade my vision. I feel like a little kid again, relearning what forks and skewers are.

For the first half of the month, my puzzle rating of 1900 slowly dripped away into 1700. To bring my tactics back up to speed, I chose the simple (but certainly not easy) method of spamming online puzzles. There were a few bumps in the road...

Somehow, I failed the above puzzle. I blitzed out the first move, saying to myself, "that's pretty obvious". Egged on by getting the answer correct, I spent a few more seconds thinking about nothing, then carelessly played my second move, 2.Kb1, once again believing that the solution was "pretty obvious". Why on Earth would I move my king towards the center of the board when I could tuck it safely behind my pawns?

Naturally, the puzzle's idea struck me immediately after I erred, and from then on I tried to be more deliberate while solving puzzles. And slowly... painfully slowly.... I began to unsheathe my long-lost tactical knife again.

It would be very 'glass half-empty' to lead by saying that I spent 5 minutes on the above puzzle, though unfortunately I did. At least I got it right! I just got tripped up by all the other misleading checks and captures, particularly 1...Qxf1. Eventually, of course, it dawned on me that there was a simple mate in three.

I made a few changes to the way I solved puzzles after tilting all the way down to 1700. Firstly, I decided to stop doing rated puzzles while eating food or being bored on a bus. Instead, I only did puzzles when I could concentrate and set up the position on a real board. Moreover, I decided not to toss out the first move that sprung to mind but instead deeply think for up to ten minutes, making sure to calculate lots of lines, before playing a solution on the board.

With these tweaks, I managed to claw myself all the way from 1700 to 1950! The climb back up was excruciating because my rating wasn't provisional anymore. I exhausted all my rating deviation on the way down, and as I tried to regain my rating with a fresh mindset, I gained only about 3-5 elo per solved puzzle. For that reason, it took me around 10x the time and effort to retrieve the rating I lost. I'll have to think twice before going on a long tilt again.

Below is the highest-rated puzzle I successfully solved during my training. I've included two hints which you can view by clicking on the buttons.

I found it fairly easy for its rating level, but you can try for yourself:

Final Thoughts

My next step for improvement could be reviewing my stats across tactical themes and working on my weaknesses. I've also been playing some Puzzle Battle with friends, and having fun while improving pattern recognition. It's like running a race alongside someone else — even if it's a competition, you motivate each other to push on.

Overall, I think I noticeably improved at tactics, not just compared to my slow start, but also my peak a few months ago. Just like my experience in playing games, not only did my rating change for the better, but also my approach. 

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Strategy

While my tactics training is mainly digital, I prefer learning positional play by reading. I've been collecting a few chess books, but they've been collecting dust over the past couple months as I got sidetracked by life.

Reading chess books is comforting. I like placing my study sessions at the end of the day, just before I go to bed, because learning chess always makes me sleepy. Of course, that's not to say chess books are boring. Quite the opposite — the book I used to brush up my weak positional knowledge is not only instructive but also a well-written, fun read.

How to Reassess Your Chess

IM Jeremy Silman's How to Reassess Your Chess is the best chess book I have ever read. It's transformed my play like no other. Before this book, hearing the words 'positional chess' would provoke a blank stare: "Huh? What's that?" Silman opened my eyes. He explains strategic concepts with such clarity that even my 1100-rated past self could wrap my head around them.

At the heart of the book are ten carefully chosen imbalances — differences in a position — and they are Silman's tools for evaluating positions. He describes the imbalances as a "roadmap that shows each side what to do". Each imbalance gets its own chapter packed with detailed explanations and instructive positions. For example, in the chapter on rooks, Silman writes about open files, seventh ranks, passed pawns, and all the other fantasies of a rook. In the below game, I used Silman's rook lessons to find the correct move and went on to win:

I can dedicate this victory and countless others to Reassess Your Chess. Silman's writing is lucid and his conversational tone makes the lessons more engaging and memorable. If you find most chess literature to be exceptionally dry (which, honestly, it often is), this one might change your mind.

I would recommend it for beginner-intermediate players to learn the principles of chess strategy. Even advanced players who want to strengthen their positional knowledge will find plenty of value in Reassess Your Chess. If you can't buy the book but have a burning desire to learn positional play, you can access a free digital copy on archive.org.

(I promise this isn't a paid promotion guys, I just really like this book)

Thought Process

Apart from re-reading Silman, the main strategy-related concept I worked on was building a structured thought process. I realized that thinking about my opponent's possible replies to my moves could genuinely elevate my chess skills to the next level. Like all great revelations, it came after I embarrassingly hung a rook in a rapid game. 

In the postmortem, I reflected on the above blunder. Such moves don’t come from tactical weakness, because I can definitely calculate one move ahead. If I had flipped the board, I would never ever consider the move I played. Clearly, it hangs a fork. The issue, of course, isn’t that I can’t find tactical refutations, but that I’m not looking for them. I don’t pay close enough attention to my opponent’s moves and ideas. This is where the structured thought process comes in.

More than anything, I wanted this thought process to be flexible and not dogmatic. I also wanted to incorporate what I learned from Silman. Here’s what I came up with:

1. Look at the opponent's last move. Ask yourself: “Why did they play that move? What is their plan? Does it create any threats?”
2. Perform a quick tactical check. Scan for immediate tactics. No need for deep positional analysis if your opponent just hung mate in one. This step will become subconscious.
3. Evaluate the position. Use Silman’s imbalances method if needed. 
4. (optional) Come up with potential plans. Connect the positional evaluation to potential ideas and plans. Don't force this step if the position doesn't call for a strategic plan.
5. Pick candidate moves. Based on your evaluation and plans. For example, if you notice a weak isolated pawn as an imbalance, and come up with a plan of hunting it down, you could choose a candidate move involving attacking the weak pawn.
6. Calculate variations. Make sure to find the opponent’s best possible replies to your move and not just the ones you want to see. No hope chess!
7. Choose a move and play it.
8. (during opponent's turn) Take a step back. Stop calculations and look over the position in general. Take a break if needed but avoid zoning out.

Final Thoughts

For the next few months, I’ll do my best to implement this thought process in each of my games. If (or, optimistically, when) you see my rating suddenly skyrocket, you'll know the reason why!

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Endgames

Endgames are where I go to die.

Every traded piece in the middlegame is one small step towards my downfall, as I get closer to what should be the simplest phase of the game, but in reality is the most incomprehensible. My monkey brain melts due to the lack of kingside attacks and I revert back to being a 500 elo patzer. I promise, you've never seen anything like it: I have a rare talent for losing in completely winning endgame positions. 

Humorous self-deprecations aside, I unfortunately didn't spend nearly enough time learning about endgames, especially considering how hard I suck at them. My limited endgame study can be divided into two main categories: theoretical and practical.

Theoretical Endgames

These are endgames with few enough pieces on the board that there is a known winning/drawing method. An example would be the King+Rook vs Lone King endgame, which is a forced win for the side with the rook.

I like improving my theoretical endgames by playing against Stockfish. I generally hate playing strong engines, as it's like bashing my head into a brick wall, but I'll make an exception for custom positions and theoretical endgames. This is because our goal here is perfection. We want to win a Lucena position 100% of the time. We want to be able to do it in our sleep. In a real game, we should be able to find our way even under extreme time pressure.

If you'd like to brush up your endgame technique, try actually winning some winning positions, like this king and pawn endgame I played out against Stockfish and annotated afterwards:

I can attribute the little endgame knowledge I do have to the book Silman's Complete Endgame Course. Its unique idea of splitting up concepts by rating range rather than theme makes it exceptionally club player-friendly. From his decades of experience, Silman teaches you only what you need to know at your level. (Once again, Silman is carrying my chess abilities...)

Practical Endgames

Practical endgames are those found in real games. These are more complex, with lots more pieces involved, but they later transition to a theoretical endgame.

Playing out an endgame in a slow time control and carefully analyzing it afterwards is a great way to get better at practical endgames. But the most fun way to improve, in my opinion, is to put yourself into the shoes of a great endgame player. That's what I did. I sought to emulate none other than the great Jose Raul Capablanca, one of the best endgame players of all time.

The annotations above are by Capablanca himself. This game was so good, it made it into Irving Chernev's iconic book Capablanca's Best Chess Endings. I'd recommend playing out practical endgames with an equally skilled training partner, but all my friends are bad at chess, so I'm going up against the computer. With such a formidable opponent, I needed to apply everything I learned from Capablanca's notes to win.

Well... that was a complete disaster! Inebriated by the pressure of a real game, I panicked and made the mistake of second-guessing the strategies I learned. I don't know why I thought I could override Capablanca's ideas with my own poor endgame judgement, but that's exactly what I did. For example, Capablanca didn't budge his king until 20 moves deep into the endgame, whereas the moment Stockfish moved its king I did the same in a panic.

With each inaccuracy I played, the position started looking more equal and drawish. Then, as it slowly set in that I had zero advantage left against a chess God, I began trading off pieces like a coward. For some reason, the computer accepted my draw begging instead of delivering the beating I deserved. I'm not complaining, even though Capablanca is turning in his grave as I write this. 

Final Thoughts

Guys, I promise that I'll learn some more endgame stuff... next month. In the meantime, I'll remain condemned to watching half-points mysteriously vanish as soon as the final phase of the game takes place.

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Openings

I'm placing my opening study at the end of the blog because I feel it's the least important aspect of chess improvement. Games are usually decided in the middlegame/endgame from tactical mistakes, positional oversights, or poor time management. Club players just don't know enough theory to beat you out of the opening, even if they play allegedly 'high-theory' openings like the Najdorf.

Theory can only take you so far.

-Oppenheimer

That said, some strange series of events in my chess upbringing imbued in me an odd fondness for studying theory. I know I'm in the minority here. Many club players I've confessed this to have given me strange looks: "you like doing what?" Even chess legends like Fischer and Carlsen, though they suffer from being at a much higher level than you and I, have spoke out about the misery of opening study.

But learning openings is fun! Playing through the moves of your favourite openings, collecting all the ideas, poring over different lines, from the newest engine novelties to the oldest forgotten variations... it's like exploring the ruins of legendary Pokemon.

Also, studying opening theory is more useful than many people would lead you to believe. It's comforting to know the best move in lots of variations, have deeper preparation than your opponent, and be happy in all the middlegame positions you get. Effective opening study also involves middlegame work to understand plans behind the moves you learn. This will deepen your understanding of other parts of chess. For example, I first learned about the plans in the Carlsbad structure when I studied the Exchange Queen's Gambit Declined.

Recently, I changed my approach to openings and it's been a key factor in my improvement. I used to pick openings for dumb reasons: they were popular, my favourite YouTuber used it, they had low theory, etc.

Openings have lots of theory because they are good! There's a reason why chess masters, over decades, developed tomes of book lines in the Marshall, Najdorf, and Berlin, while openings like the Caro-Kann have much less. Moreover, people at low levels (read: my level) don't really know much opening theory, especially in online play.

At a chess tournament I played White against a young opponent who drew me in a hard-fought Najdorf game. This is the brief conversation I had with him afterwards about openings (heavily paraphrased):

"But how can you play the Najdorf and barely know any theory, bro? Isn't it, like, the most theory-heavy opening in chess?"

"I don't know bro, it's fun." 

I've stopped avoiding enjoyable openings because they have 'too much theory'. Now, I choose my lines based on how fun, intuitive, and instructive they are. 

I went from playing the French to 1...e5 and it really improved my chess. I end up with more open and spacious positions playing the Black pieces and equality almost always comes with little struggle. My winrate as Black went up along with my rating.

1.e4 e5 and Black is already slightly better!

-IM Gyula Kluger

This is the repertoire I'm playing right now. It's brought me some of the most fun positions I've ever had.

White	Black vs 1.e4	Black vs 1.d4
Ruy Lopez ❤️‍🔥	Open Ruy Lopez ⚡	Nimzo-Indian 🎯
Open Sicilian ⚔️	Polerio 🔥	Ragozin ⚖️
Tarrasch French 🧐	Mieses Scotch ♞	Closed Catalan 🤔
Classical Caro 🙂

.

In the distant future I definitely intend to play a Sicilian from the Black side. I think it would be a big shame to play chess and never learn a Sicilian. After some very brief research, I've shortlisted the Najdorf, Sveshnikov, Classical, and Four Knights. If any Sicilian veterans are reading, suggest me something in the comments! But all that's in a long time, and for now I'm focusing on learning the openings I do play.

I'll explore three of my favourite openings here and attach each of them to a different study method I use.

Ruy Lopez: Opening Books

I picked up a copy of Caruana's Ruy Lopez book, which is a White repertoire aimed at club players. 

One thing I like about this book is that, even though it's a repertoire book, it offers multiple options for White players to choose from. Caruana writes that "chess is a rich game and there is no need to limit ourselves to just one opening line which we play for life." Here's one of those alternative recommendations I really liked.

Caruana dedicates a full chapter to exploring this rare but strong sideline.

You would expect that a super GM's explanations would be difficult to sift through, and the book would be geared towards high-level readers. Caruana doesn't assume the reader has a good grasp on the positional intricacies of the Ruy Lopez, which is good because I definitely don't. The annotations are very club player-friendly.

Polerio: Chessable Courses

The Polerio is a huge tactical (and theoretical) mess and I prefer going into it as Black with a bit of memorization on my side. What I use for this is Chessable's spaced repetition feature. I got a free Polerio course made by FM Andrey Terekhov.

Despite the Polerio's madness, every recommended line is engine-backed and fully sound. An added chapter on thematic tactics helps us play the knockout punch, which is often waiting to be found in an opening as swashbuckling as the Polerio. The course is concise too, especially compared to other Chessable courses, coming in at under 100 variations. That's still way more than enough for a player of my level.

Nimzo-Indian: Self-Made Repertoire

Some people decide that the vast oceans of free-to-use chess resources just aren't adequate for them. They think that they have to blaze their own trail! Some people may even have the hubris to believe they can do it better than all the chess masters who are willing to share their exceptional instruction for free. And, well... I'm 'some people'.

In my defense, I've uncovered so much amazing preparation with just an opening database and an engine at my side. My database is my sword, cutting down my opponents with high-winrate lines, and my engine is my shield, its cold objectivity faithfully protecting me from playing unsound variations.

While I can't leak all my secret prep here, I will share a very fun Nimzo line that I found with a database:

With good preparation in this line, your winrate at amateur level could be as high as 70%! While there's absolutely nothing wrong with using opening resources, incorporating the self-studying method gives you more hands-on opening learning and lets you discover these powerful pet lines.

Final Thoughts

It's strange but very fitting that this section ended up being longer than the tactics, strategy, and endgame sections.

Over the next few months, I'll learn and understand my current openings further and work towards building a bulletproof repertoire for tournament play.

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Conclusion

In October, I reached 2000 and felt as if I pushed a pawn to b8 and promoted it to a queen. On a traditional chessboard, the eighth rank is the farthest you can go. That's where I stopped But, as I quickly learned by returning to chess, 2000 is far from the final frontier... it's only the beginning. We're all pawns, trying to promote on a chessboard with infinite ranks. My favourite part of chess isn't reaching the last rank, but the journey of pushing my pawn onward. And last month I successfully pushed my pawn to b9.

I've set some lofty goals for myself to accomplish by the end of 2025 — play 30 classical games and analyze 50 losses. The decision not to set rating goals reflects my changed mindset. Wish me luck!

I know this was a pretty long blog, so thanks for making it through. Please leave your comments below. I'd love hear your thoughts, questions, and criticisms; they make even the most laborious blogging completely worth it.