It's Easier to Write about Losses

It’s easier for me to write about losses.

Something about the drama, the heartbreak, and the lessons of a loss bring me to the keyboard. My fingers find life through tragedy. My ideas tap dance into words when agonizing over a setback. With a win, there isn't the same pull to pour my heart out or share  the ins and outs of my experience. A win is a win and onto the next; a loss is what keeps me up at night staring into the dark.  

So here is the full story of how I lost on Friday night:

The Drama: When I walked into the church where my DC League team normally plays, I greeted Benny Johnson, the president of the Black Knights and a legend in DC chess. Normally, Benny is always happy to see me, but this time, his face immediately fell. I learned that I was in the wrong playing location and the correct one was all the way in Arlington. Forty-five minutes and a long, stressful Uber ride later, I made it to the board. When I pushed my d pawn forward two squares, I was already down 35 minutes on my clock. I’m not saying all of this as an excuse, because I really don’t think any of the mistakes I made were because of time, but I just want to give a general impression of my frazzled and annoyed state of mind when I finally started playing.

The Heartbreak: I exploded out of the opening and by move 13 had my opponent’s king on the run as he was forced to take on d7. My queen roared out of the gate with a quick 14.Qa4+ Kc8 and my rook slid over to the c-file x-raying the vulnerable leader. When he finally landed in his hiding spot with 16…Kb8, I was sure that this was my game for the taking. However, a series of moves in the name of staying aggressive led to a position in which I was actually fighting for my life just to hold the draw. I kept on battling, and had one moment to hold onto the game(maybe even win it), but I became too focused on saving on of my pawns and gave up an opportunity to be active. Four hours after the clock started, I resigned in anguish.

The Lessons Learned:

1. The hardest thing about this type of game is that the entire time you are hating and questioning everything, but in order to stay alive, you need to stay laser focused on the moment. Nothing else matters expect for the challenge in front of you. There will be lots of time to analyze how you got into this awful position, but I need to stay completely in the moment no matter what the situation.
2. The art of attacking is this dance between knowing when to stay aggressive and when to take the time to bring the rest of the forces into the game. Once I had the king on the loose, the opportunity presented to develop my bishop and castle thus bringing my other two pieces into the melee. However, I tried to go straight for the kill, and that led to a disaster. Sometimes the best decision is the first thing you learn about strategy: develop your pieces.
3. Activity over material in the end game: I just studied a game between Capablanca and Tartakower that demonstrates this takeaway. There is a moment in which Capablanca ignores his opponent's grabbing of pawn while staying focused on his real goal of promoting the g pawn. Instead of activating my rook to a1 or h1, I tried to protect a pawn(45.Ke3??), missing the consequences of the check, and losing the pawn anyway. If I had stayed active, I would have a chance to hold the game with 46.Ra7.

As always, for your viewing pleasure: