David Bronstein - One of the Greatest Attackers in Chess History (Part 2)
David Bronstein - One of the Greatest Attackers in Chess History (Part 2)
Learning to Attack through Bronstein’s Games
In the opening installment of this series, part 1, we examined three games in which David Bronstein’s opponents neglected to castle and were swiftly subjected to a merciless assault.
In this second part, we will once again look at attacks against the king stranded in the center—only this time, through more complex and strategically rich battles.
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Before diving into the games, I should remind readers that I have previously written on this blog about another great attacking genius, Paul Keres. Those who may have missed that series can revisit the articles here:
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Bronstein was a player of inexhaustible creative energy, constantly inventing entirely new ideas—many of which have remained embedded in chess theory. Kasparov once wrote of him: “I don’t know what kept him from becoming World Champion. Unfortunately. Because in terms of depth of understanding, not just originality—(Larsen was also original, but far from the ‘Great David’)—Bronstein undoubtedly belonged at the championship level.” (from the book: David vs Goliath).
It is precisely this depth of understanding that I seek to highlight in these articles by revisiting his games. As I noted in the first part of this series, to fall under Bronstein’s attack was a perilous experience—especially if one’s king lingered in the center.
Our first game in this selection is especially fascinating. It is worth noting that Bronstein had already become a master at the age of sixteen—an extraordinary sensation at the time. His rise was briefly interrupted by the Second World War, but by 1944, as the war drew to a close, he began his ascent to unimaginable heights. By the time of the game under discussion, Bronstein was already a well-known name, having finished third in the USSR Championship the year before.
His opponent was none other than Grigory Levenfish, a highly respected figure in Soviet chess. Levenfish had already made his mark back in Tsarist Russia, but it was during the Soviet era that he truly flourished. In 1937, he became Champion of the USSR, and not long after, he was challenged to a match by none other than Mikhail Botvinnik—a match that ended in a draw. These two accomplishments are widely regarded as the pinnacle of Levenfish’s career.
Levenfish, a player of crystal-clear positional style, posed a formidable challenge for anyone. But he was also the perfect adversary for the fiery young Bronstein. The game began as a Slav Defense, Meran Variation—a battleground that at the time was still underdeveloped in theoretical terms, leaving ample room for creativity and improvisation.
In the early phase of the game, Bronstein introduced the move 11.Ne4—a rare guest in theory at the time. Even more surprising was his 13.Bg5!?—in effect offering his central pawn on e5 as a sacrifice, in the best traditions of Alekhine himself. Curiously, Levenfish accepted the pawn, an undoubtedly mistaken decision.
From here, Bronstein took complete control, playing with remarkable energy and near-perfect accuracy. These were precisely the types of positions in which his imagination and improvisational genius could fully unfold. Pay special attention to move 17.f4, the moment when White launches the attack. Particularly intriguing is the analysis of 17…Qc7, a line which, to my knowledge, has not yet appeared in the published chess literature. Careful examination confirms that Bronstein’s pawn sacrifice was entirely sound.
The attack swept across the entire board—again, very much in Alekhine’s spirit—as demonstrated by the thematic thrust 19.b6!. The rest of the game features a series of sparkling variations, offering the reader plenty of aesthetic enjoyment in analyzing Bronstein’s play.
An extraordinary game—worthy of any first-class collection of masterpieces.
The next game takes us into entirely different territory. Here, we see Bronstein not just as a fearless attacker, but as a thinker of astonishing depth and originality. Playing with the black pieces, he ventured into a line that many of his contemporaries regarded with suspicion, due to its fragile pawn structure. And yet, this was one of Bronstein’s favorite battlefields – inspired by his close friend Alexander Konstantinopolsky, who adored this variation of the Caro–Kann.
The struggle quickly escalated into sharp complications. At the time, the theory of the 5…gxf6 line was still in its infancy, and every move was a step into uncharted waters. White did not commit any blatant blunders, but a few hesitant moves (7.Ne2, 8.Nf4?!, 9.Qf3) left him in a position where nothing short of profound understanding could provide guidance. This was precisely the kind of landscape in which Bronstein thrived.
His bold 11…e5!? deserves special mention. Both he and Konstantinopolsky annotated it with an exclamation mark, not because it was “objectively best,” but because it was alive – charged with practical energy. In a quieter game, the move might have left Black with long-term weaknesses, but Bronstein knew perfectly well that this battle would never settle into an endgame. The dynamics, he felt, more than compensated for any structural flaws.
And indeed, as often happens in such tense struggles, White soon cracked. The careless 12.g4? ceded the initiative, and after 17.a3? the tide had irreversibly turned.
Had White calmly played Be3 followed by Rc1, his prospects would have looked bright – Rxc6 was already looming on the horizon. But Bronstein’s perception was razor-sharp. With a series of crisp tactical blows, executed with elegance and precision, he dismantled White’s position and decided the game in his favor.
It is games like this that illuminate Kasparov’s words from the beginning of our story: Bronstein possessed not just originality, but a depth of thought that elevated him to the highest echelon of chess.
The third game is of even greater historical weight. This time, Bronstein faced none other than Viktor Korchnoi – a man who needs little introduction. From the early 1960s through the 1990s, Korchnoi was a permanent fixture among the world’s elite, twice challenging for the World Championship itself. In truth, one could argue he was a contender on three occasions – for the 1974 Candidates’ Final against Karpov effectively determined the next World Champion, given Fischer’s withdrawal.
According to B. S. Vainstein, this particular game was played on Paul Keres’s birthday. In a characteristic gesture, Bronstein “gifted” his friend a game played in the very variation bearing Keres’s name. For Bronstein, this was almost second nature: the variation itself suited him perfectly, and in any case, his encyclopedic knowledge allowed him to enter virtually any opening without fear.
Neither side navigated the opening with perfect precision – understandable, since the theory of the Keres Variation was still being forged. Korchnoi, already famed for his defensive prowess, may even have deliberately chosen sub-optimal moves (though we cannot be certain, since he never annotated the game himself) in an attempt to steer the struggle toward a defensive battle of his liking. But his 13…Nc4? was too much – a misstep that left him with a significantly worse position.
Then came Bronstein’s inspired 16.fxg6! – a move that revealed the essence of his vision. He understood that the f-file would be more valuable than the open h-file, and he shaped his strategy accordingly. With 18.0-0-0, the game reached a position brimming with tension and possibilities.
Although Black’s king lingered in the center, it was not immediately vulnerable, which made a direct assault difficult. Bronstein therefore broadened his scope, weaving threats across the entire board – pressure against the c4-pawn combined with latent force along the f-file. At the climax, the brilliant 32.h5 sealed the struggle with poetic inevitability.
Yet another gem, this time carved in battle with one of the greatest fighters of the age.
To be continued…
