There is already a topic about this subject and the answer is simple. Stop comparing oranges to apples. In other words, we can't compare two chess players of different era.
kasparov v fischer
Sort:
an apple can kick an orange's ass anytime, and vs. a banana it would be a slaughter.
Wilio wrote:
There is already a topic about this subject and the answer is simple. Stop comparing oranges to apples. In other words, we can't compare two chess players of different era.
people compare pele to maradona at football all the time but were from
different era, so why not kasparov fischer?
either way kasparov was a quite a character. he was known in the political and chess arena and other areas. he was a true polymath
I think it depends on when in their careers you compared them. At 18 I think Bobby could've won a match over Kasparov at 18. At 30 for each I think it would've been Kasparov, but barely. This is also hard because they both used the Najdorf a ton as black and added theory in each of their respective eras to that defense. Specifically, Kasparov built on Bobby's ideas on that defense. I think if you gave each an opening that they played exceedingly rarely then a real match of wits would've been seen.
thanks for that
Mar 4, 2009
0
#8
it would be very close but i think kasparov would win.
pele wuld probably beat maradona,too
Imagine a hungry young Fischer tearing thru the chess world today with access to the best programs and the internet...it's scary..
Apr 30, 2009
0
#10
i think fischer's annihilation of the competition in the candidates' tournamenst and matches show how far ahead of the competition he really was. truly he was a man among boys.
while kasparov held the title for much longer, does anybody really think that fischer would not have defeated karpov if he had decided to play him in '75?
while you can't really compare them since they didn't play each other, a look at the way fischer dominated in his time forces me to vote for fischer.
Amid a media frenzy, these two titans of the game would disembark their planes at some exotic location in, say Manilla (I’m writing this fantasy, so I get to chose the location). Now, when is the date of this epic encounter? This is crucial you see, as Kasparov, at least in the latter part of his career, had the advantage of computers, something that was only dimly on the horizon when Fischer was in his pomp. So let us suspend disbelief and thrust a mature Kasparov, devoid of a silicone sidekick and two decades of opening theory advancement, back into the mid seventies, where the luxuriant sideburns of his youth would find appreciation in his flared-trouser wearing fan base.
Kasparov, whilst devoid of computers, is still a product of the Soviets, and so has the full weight of the soviet chess infrastructure aiding him (this now being the height of the Cold War), which probably constitutes a similar advantage, especially when allied to his native genius. Fischer works alone, or nearly alone, perhaps the odd, brusquely treated American grandmaster to give him encouragement or try to tame his wilder impulses.
And so the stage is set. Kasparov arrives at the venue, a five-star hotel in the middle of the city, awaiting the arrival of his opponent. And yet Fisher remains absent. Media speculation is rife… where is the American Champion? Kasparov is unmoved, and calmly awaits the appointed hour. Precisely on time, Kasparov plays 1. e4, hits the clock and sits back. The time ticks on, and still Fischer fails to arrive. Frantic calls from the tournament director fails to raise him at his hotel. Eventually, members of the American delegation make the trip across the sweltering city to Fischer’s hotel. After arguing with the hotel staff, they finally get access to his room, to find him sat in the dark with the curtains drawn, hunched over his travel chess set. Oblivious to their pleas, Fischer refuses to budge. The prize money, it turns out, is insufficient. The exasperated Americans plead that the amount was agreed by all prior to the start of the match, but Fischer is defiant, and will not be moved. The situation is hopeless, so they return to the venue. Kasparov, seated at the table, gazes at the watching crowd forlornly, apologetically, watching his clock tick down. The flag falls: Kasparov 1, Fischer 0.
The future of the whole match is in jeopardy. All over the world, chess fans are wondering whether Kasparov will win by default. Some speculate that the money is not the issue; is Fischer scared? Is Kasparov a different proposition to the run-of-the-mill grandmasters that Fischer has been steamrollering for the past decade? Has Fischer detected an ego larger than his own, that cannot be broken? Is his fear of losing that great? Suddenly, the speculation becomes moot; a wealthy businessman steps in and raises the seven figures Fischer has been demanding. The match can proceed, and even Fischer would not be able to refuse the new offer.
The players arrive for game two. Kasparov sits with black, his eyes those of a warrior. Truly, this man is a different player to the meek and mild Spassky Fischer had so wantonly dismissed previously. Fischer arrives, again late, his clock ticking past the half hour mark before he plays his first move. His lateness was caused by a complaint at the media; the cameras were too loud, the audience too close. Kasparov keeps his cool, and draws with black. Kasparov offers Fischer nothing but a granite wall.
The match proceeds in a similar fashion. With Kasparov leading 2 ½ to 1 ½, Fischer’s fraying will makes ever greater demands. The auditorium where the match is being held is too bright, too noisy, too cold… the board must be moved to small room where these imperfect intrusions would be lessoned. The officials are at a loss. Is there a precedent for this demand? What do the rules state? Kasparov, with a glowering glare, remains staunchly seated. The match is in this room, on this date. No arrangements were made for a different venue; both players must contend with the conditions. Unlike his predecessor Spassky, Kasparov is unmoved and resolute. The match officials, having dealt with Fischer’s irrationality before, state it plainly: the game will be played here, in this room, at this table, or Fischer will forfeit. Fischer storms out; Kasparov 3 ½, Fischer 1 ½.
Kasparov eventually wins comfortably. Fischer, with both the chess and psychologically, had found an opponent that would not be broken. He would not be bullied and harassed into making endless concessions, and played without fear. Fischer, fighting a towering ego, broke.
Kasparov went on to defend his title against the best players in the world, remaining at the top of the world rankings for twenty years. Fischer fled into exile, and never played chess again.
ED.
Now, if only all posts were that imaginative...
:)
Apr 30, 2009
0
#13
Kasparov said a similar thing about a possible Karpov-Fischer (albeit not as imaginitively) - Karpov wouldn't have fallen for all the psychological tricks.
ErrantDeeds wrote:
Now, if only all posts were that imaginative...
:)
Truly imaginative Mr Deeds ! ...but that's what it is...imagination....you seem to seriously under estimate Robert Fischer's chess ability! Fischer was a chess monster because of the moves he made over the board...he did'nt become the greatest player in history thru off board pyschology lol...No player before, or since, has equalled his will to win over the board...it was enjoyable to read all the same !
probably a draw.
kasparov stands no chance against fischer
paul211 wrote:
WILL NEVER HAPPEN AS fISHER IS DEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
his memories will always stay with us
gentleman600 wrote:
ok everybody who would of won if kasparov had ever played fischer?
my moneys on kasparov
Fischer. Only undefeated in position champion. Kasparov was beaten because right now, champion's Annan.
ErrantDeeds wrote:
Amid a media frenzy, these two titans of the game would disembark their planes at some exotic location in, say Manilla (I’m writing this fantasy, so I get to chose the location). Now, when is the date of this epic encounter? This is crucial you see, as Kasparov, at least in the latter part of his career, had the advantage of computers, something that was only dimly on the horizon when Fischer was in his pomp. So let us suspend disbelief and thrust a mature Kasparov, devoid of a silicone sidekick and two decades of opening theory advancement, back into the mid seventies, where the luxuriant sideburns of his youth would find appreciation in his flared-trouser wearing fan base.
Kasparov, whilst devoid of computers, is still a product of the Soviets, and so has the full weight of the soviet chess infrastructure aiding him (this now being the height of the Cold War), which probably constitutes a similar advantage, especially when allied to his native genius. Fischer works alone, or nearly alone, perhaps the odd, brusquely treated American grandmaster to give him encouragement or try to tame his wilder impulses.
And so the stage is set. Kasparov arrives at the venue, a five-star hotel in the middle of the city, awaiting the arrival of his opponent. And yet Fisher remains absent. Media speculation is rife… where is the American Champion? Kasparov is unmoved, and calmly awaits the appointed hour. Precisely on time, Kasparov plays 1. e4, hits the clock and sits back. The time ticks on, and still Fischer fails to arrive. Frantic calls from the tournament director fails to raise him at his hotel. Eventually, members of the American delegation make the trip across the sweltering city to Fischer’s hotel. After arguing with the hotel staff, they finally get access to his room, to find him sat in the dark with the curtains drawn, hunched over his travel chess set. Oblivious to their pleas, Fischer refuses to budge. The prize money, it turns out, is insufficient. The exasperated Americans plead that the amount was agreed by all prior to the start of the match, but Fischer is defiant, and will not be moved. The situation is hopeless, so they return to the venue. Kasparov, seated at the table, gazes at the watching crowd forlornly, apologetically, watching his clock tick down. The flag falls: Kasparov 1, Fischer 0.
The future of the whole match is in jeopardy. All over the world, chess fans are wondering whether Kasparov will win by default. Some speculate that the money is not the issue; is Fischer scared? Is Kasparov a different proposition to the run-of-the-mill grandmasters that Fischer has been steamrollering for the past decade? Has Fischer detected an ego larger than his own, that cannot be broken? Is his fear of losing that great? Suddenly, the speculation becomes moot; a wealthy businessman steps in and raises the seven figures Fischer has been demanding. The match can proceed, and even Fischer would not be able to refuse the new offer.
The players arrive for game two. Kasparov sits with black, his eyes those of a warrior. Truly, this man is a different player to the meek and mild Spassky Fischer had so wantonly dismissed previously. Fischer arrives, again late, his clock ticking past the half hour mark before he plays his first move. His lateness was caused by a complaint at the media; the cameras were too loud, the audience too close. Kasparov keeps his cool, and draws with black. Kasparov offers Fischer nothing but a granite wall.
The match proceeds in a similar fashion. With Kasparov leading 2 ½ to 1 ½, Fischer’s fraying will makes ever greater demands. The auditorium where the match is being held is too bright, too noisy, too cold… the board must be moved to small room where these imperfect intrusions would be lessoned. The officials are at a loss. Is there a precedent for this demand? What do the rules state? Kasparov, with a glowering glare, remains staunchly seated. The match is in this room, on this date. No arrangements were made for a different venue; both players must contend with the conditions. Unlike his predecessor Spassky, Kasparov is unmoved and resolute. The match officials, having dealt with Fischer’s irrationality before, state it plainly: the game will be played here, in this room, at this table, or Fischer will forfeit. Fischer storms out; Kasparov 3 ½, Fischer 1 ½.
Kasparov eventually wins comfortably. Fischer, with both the chess and psychologically, had found an opponent that would not be broken. He would not be bullied and harassed into making endless concessions, and played without fear. Fischer, fighting a towering ego, broke.
Kasparov went on to defend his title against the best players in the world, remaining at the top of the world rankings for twenty years. Fischer fled into exile, and never played chess again.
ED.
dont dream fischer was a great man check the 100 interviews of grandmasters fischer was their role model
May 1, 2009
0
#20
Ficher can produce a good game, or two, but he is not stable in every sense.
Kasparov on the other hand has been winning game after game, turnament after turnament for many years. We are not talking about a genius move or two, he has been consistently playing at the very best level.
In a match of more than one game Ficher has no chance. Not even 1%.
Recall the match between Karpov and Kasparov. Karpov was known for his ultra solid play and he was even leading, but still could not beat Kasparov. Karpov is by far more capable than Ficher in turnaments.
ok everybody who would of won if kasparov had ever played fischer?
my moneys on kasparov