Irwin National Tournament Of Senior State Champions

At the Montana Open in April, the MCA President nominated me to attend an annual, national tournament in Wisconsin for state champions who are age 50 or older. I am 51 years old and a former state champion, so I fit the bill. Why not? Even though I knew the competition would be filled with masters and experts who would take apart a mere amateur such as I, it was an opportunity to travel somewhere new and create a memorable experience, which it surely turned out to be.

The adventure actually began before the tournament, when my flight to Minneapolis was delayed and made me miss my connection by just a few minutes. I ran all the way across the massive airport while hearing my name being announced for final boarding over the PA system. The gate agent apologized when I arrived, panting, and found a new flight that would leave for Madison in just a couple of hours. This gave me time to visit the Delta Sky Lounge and grab some food. It turned out that my bag had made the connection and was already waiting for me at the Madison airport when I arrived. A more perfect outcome can scarcely be imagined.

Then I found a cab driver straight out of central casting for a Wisconsinite: a large, burly man wearing a snow cap despite the 90-degree heat. He was friendly and pointed out the local sights as we made our way west to Middleton, a small township on the periphery of Madison. When we arrived at the hotel, it was abuzz with activity because there would be multiple tournaments happening simultaneously, including the U.S. Open, and mine was only one of them. Children and adults who were easily identifiable as chess enthusiasts had turned the lobby into a mob scene.

After I got settled in and cleaned up, I headed to a conference room for my tournament's opening ceremony. I must say it was a joy to be surrounded by people of my own age. I've always been an old soul, and I recall enjoying the company of old people when I was a child. Now I can hang out with them for real! I chatted with several of them and learned which states they represented. One of them was from Virginia, where I spent a good chunk of my life for college and law school, so we had a good conversation. Another was from North Dakota and remarked that he felt outclassed by all the talent in the room, and I told him that I was in the same boat. And another one remarked that I looked too young for the event. That kept a smile on my face for the rest of the week. We all posed together for a group photo (see above) and wore the gold medallions we received as souvenirs. I'm pretty easy to spot.

When we got down to business, we entered a giant playing hall teeming with players of all ages and competing in their respective events. We oldsters sat in a long row of tables and displayed our state flags next to our boards. It amazed me how such a large mass of people, including children, fell completely silent once the games began (chess tournaments might be the last bastion of decorum). What happened in my games was discouraging, as I pretty much expected in light of my competition. Every game I played went the distance, some of them down to the last few seconds. Nobody slaughtered me. However, I kept making minor errors that my skilled opponents pounced on mercilessly, handing me loss after loss. It felt like something out of Greek mythology and the torments handed down in Hades. Tantalus is surrounded by food and drink but can never reach them. Sisyphus keeps pushing a boulder up a hill only to have it roll back down. Ixion keeps spinning on a wheel. The Danaids keep trying to fill leaky jars. And there am I, always playing a good game and seeing possible wins or draws, only to have something go wrong resulting in a loss. Tragic.

When the smoke cleared, I had scored only 1.5 points out of 6 rounds, my worst result ever. I took heart because everyone who beat me was higher rated, and because several players finished with scores even worse than mine. It's a good thing that I'm at a stage of life where I don't care about my rating, which will plummet closer to (or crash into) my floor of 1700. 

Without further ado, here is my game from the first round. My opponent was a FIDE master who played without fanfare, but also without mistakes. I played an offbeat version of the Pirc defense that did not go as planned. 

In the second round I faced an expert who became visibly stressed when we got into a time scramble. He practically leapt up every time I made a move and scribbled furiously before making his. Whatever he was doing must have worked because he found better moves and handed me another loss.

I finally got a win in the third round after a long struggle in what was an early endgame that never seemed to end. Working with the pawns and the minor pieces, I finally found a way to create and push passed pawns that were unstoppable. 

Round 4 took place in the morning, and I hoped to build on my win from the prior evening. It wasn't to be, as I played another strong game but made critical errors near the end that allowed my opponent (an expert) to find the win.

Round 5 was even more of a heartbreaker because I threw away another strong game, and it was against a player rated only 1900 (below what my peak rating was). A couple of poor decisions caused the game to unravel incredibly fast.

In the final round I confronted someone similar to me, a man around 1800 in his rating and eager to finish the tournament with some dignity intact. I put together a very strong attack, and when he began to create some counterplay he suddenly offered a draw. The game felt winnable, but I didn't trust myself after all the mistakes I had made, and it would be nice to wrap things up and relax. I shook his hand and shifted into spectator mode, enjoying the multitude of games happening all around me in the huge tournament hall.