Questions for Chess Players and Their Character

I'm a freshmen and college and have two separate assignments which I can both relate to chess.

One is an autoethnography. This means that I have to first identify myself into a particular subculture. For me, that is the "subculture" of a chess player (some of you may disagree that a chess player can be referred to in this way, but by "subculture", I simply mean group). I must write about how other groups commonly see chess and how we, as chess players, see other groups. How are we different? How do we view/perceive things differently than other groups, say, athletes or a motorcycle gang?

I know some of you might be an athletic chess player of the Hell'l Angels, but you get the point.

My other task is how I relate to my top 5 strengths from www.strengthsquest.com. There are a total of forty strengths. The survey itself costs I believe around $20 to take and about 45 minutes to complete. I'm told I need to ask a close friend how my strengths relate to my character, and I feel a big part of my character comes from chess.

My top 5 strengths are:

1. Ideation

2. Analytical

3. Woo (Winning Others Over)

4. Communication

5. Competition

Of course, #'s 1, 2 and 5 are quite helpful in chess. I don't see how 3 and 4 really aid in my chess skills. Maybe some of you can clear it up a bit.

-

In general, I'm asking how you fellow chess players consider yourself different from non-chess players. How do you attack problems differently? How do you view situations in a unique way, compared to non-chess players?

Thanks very much for your opinions on these subjects. I'll post the full papers in this thread when I've finished.

Anybody care to give their input?

I believe that chess players might look a little before they leap - especially addicts of the game, like most of us here on Chess.com are!

This, of course, begs the question, What comes first?  The chess player, or the problem-solver?

Interesting topic!  I'm curious to see what others say. 

That's a good question Skwerly. I hope we can get some more people to share their opinions :)

It's still awhile for this to be due, but anymore input would be greatly appreciated.

I don't see how anyone can answer these questions without being presumptuous, or stereotypical at the very least.

Im pretty bad at math, and im semi-good at chess..

chess helped me in complicated situations in life, it made me calm and i thought hard what to do..

idk what im talking about, but i hope this helped.

Well, this is a fairly interesting topic, even though the answers might as broad as they delve in sheer vagueness. I'll try to make it as clear as possible for the sake of your assignment.

I believe practicing chess changed my world perspective in two major ways:

#1: Facing Choices - I always extract to my life that board dilemma, as (metaphorically speaking) you have two - maybe more - possible variations to follow and, at that point, they all seem equally good. However, you get that one move and, therefore, need to choose one and abandon the other(s). Playing chess taught me to just go for whatever I deem as right and seal the matter with no conscience crisis.

#2: Dealing with Surprise - It happened to me a good deal of times, whenever planning my moves... "Well, now that I play this, he's gonna play that, and once he do- *dramatic breathless pause* OH S**T!". Curiously, more often than not I ask myself what would be the craziest and most unexpected thing that might happen in a given situation, once it catches my fancy. I doubt I would have developed such a behavior away from the board.

Oh, almost forgot: sometimes life just simply won't provide you with the scenario you're comfortable with, so you just have to roll along and adapt. Is there need for more arguments to explain why chess is eternal?

Some traits I have put into play in real life from chess would be :

Objectivity - I can be a harsh, but accurate critic of my own performance in things without getting my feelings involved. I think a lot of non-chess players are too fragile to admit they may not be good at something.

Analytical - I have gained the habit of seeking out multiple solutions to a problem, instead of stopping at answer 1. In chess, as it is with life, there may be many solutions to the same problem.

Flexibility - What I'm referring to here is flexibility in thinking/planning. So often in life we can get stuck with one goal, one idea, that we are missing the current situation and opportunities. Chess has taught me to plan, replan, and replan some more, as the dynamic of my current situation changes. Some non-chess people I've known translate not achieving their plan as failure, instead of stepping back and evaluating if the plan can be achieved by different means, or questioning if there is an entirely different, better plan to pursue.

A lot of chess players work very hard to improve. I think one typical thing about chess players, distinguishing them from most other groups, is that they will strive like hell for improvement (a lot of them are obsessive nutters) yet all the while clearly understanding that they will never be the world champion or anything near that level.

Other groups ("normal" people!), and I don't mean to critisize anybody here, are perhaps more inclined to dream of being 'the greatest': Their singing will be recognised as fantstically brilliant, their bicycle tricks will one day be rewarded with olympic medals, they'll eventually lift weights heavier than anyone thought possible etc.

Does this make chess players depressive and miserable? No, they  are proud to veiw the situation with clarity.

Thanks for your input everyone. I've finally finished, and here it is. I want to see what you guys think of it. It's not due for a few more days, so if any of you see something that should be added or changed, please let me know. 

   In a well-lit, chilly room in the grand Hilton Hotel in Indianapolis, Indiana, the United States champion of chess was allowing anyone to play a game with him for the fee of fifty dollars. The twenty-six competitors who registered for this event shuffled in and took their seat at their respective boards. The announcer then informed us that Hikaru Nakamura was not only the youngest U.S. champion since Bobby Fischer, but also the current seventeenth best player in the world. All twenty-six of us knew it was an honor to play chess with a man of this prestige. The players and the spectators applauded and Nakamura began to walk around to each of the boards, making one move per trip. This sort of event is called a simul and is common among grandmasters such as this man (some grandmasters even go as far as to play thirty plus games blindfolded, and told the moves by a third party). All of us could see the dream of beating Nakamura and being able to say “I beat one of the best in the world.” Throughout the event, all that could be heard was the soft sound of chess pieces hitting the board, plus the occasional murmur when an unexpected move was made. Slowly but surely, player after player began to resign. As the U.S. champion went to their board, they simply shook his hand and had him sign their score sheet, signifying that they resign. After three or four grueling hours of sharp, mental concentration and analysis of countless variations on the chess board, I myself eventually had to resign. When the event came to a close, all twenty-six opponents resigned – not a single one could beat, or even draw, Nakamura! Even though I lost, I wasn’t upset or even frustrated with myself; sure, I could have played better, but it’s easier to see good or bad moves when thinking about it in retrospect. Nakamura will be defending his U.S. champion title April 23^rd to May 6^th of next year in St. Louis, MO, and I hope to watch him play again. When he won the title in 2009, he played all comers in one-minute speed games – so, if he wins again this year, I might just get a chance for revenge!

   Chess players are pretty smart people, aren’t they? I mean, take a look at the stuff they have memorized: 14 Rxd8+ Kxd8 15. fxe6 e.p. Nfe3#. It looks like a totally different language! Not to mention the amazing math skills they have to possess to calculate all the odds and variations. It’s insane!

   To a chess player, the above move notation is nothing more than a game of Battleship. When a non-player views chess material and sees things like Kxd8 15. fxe6, their mind automatically jumps to the numbers and thinks – “A ha! Math! I was never any good at math in school, so chess must be way out of my league.” Yet if those same people were to take five minutes, ten minutes at the most, they would see that the notation is not at all difficult to master and it is anything but mathematical. Most people know a chess/checkers board has sixty-four squares (an 8x8 board). If they were to call each row from left to right the letters A through H, and the rows from bottom to top the numbers 1 through 8, then you could easily assign each individual square a name (such as d1, f5 or h8). Not too difficult, right? Now we take it one step farther. There are six pieces in a chess game – pawns, rooks, knights, bishops, queens and kings. In writing move notation, pawns are the only piece that does not have a letter attached with them. Rooks are represented by an R, knights by an N, bishops by B, queens by a Q, and finally kings by the letter K. So Nf6 would be translated as “knight to f6” and Qb3 as “queen to b3”. Once you understand how pieces and squares are labeled, and that capturing is represented by an x, you’ve gotten the basics of how to write chess notation.

  I’m not trying to tell you how to play chess. The reason I tell you how to write the notation is to try to convince you that chess is easy – it only looks hard. It really is a very simple game to play. Pawns move one space at a time (except the first time it moves, in which it can move either one or two spaces); rooks moves horizontally and vertically; knights go in an L-shape (two squares over then one up or down, or two squares up or down and one over); bishops move diagonally; queens move horizontally, vertically and diagonally; and kings can only move one space any direction. Play five quick games and watch how quickly it sinks in to your memory.

   Here I am telling you that I’m a chess player and chess is easy. Why wouldn’t I try to say it’s the hardest thing that mankind has ever created? That it’s devilishly difficult to play? Because I’ve put in the effort to become good at it. Anyone can play, but it takes real patience and commitment to become skilled. Chess, like poker, “takes a minute to learn and a lifetime to master”.

   I remember in my senior year of high school, I brought a small chess puzzle book into class to skim through when we weren’t doing anything. Needless to say, I was surprised when someone announced, “I didn’t know there were books on chess!”. To date, there are over twenty thousand books written on the subject. I am happy to say I own about twenty of them, the majority of which I brought to Greenville to study with when I have the time. It’s not my goal to disrespect the person who doesn’t know there are books on chess, but I am trying to point out that ignorance and stereotypes combined make chess less and less popular.

   When asking other players of the game what sets them apart as chess players, they responded primarily with three things: they are adapt at making choices, able to stay calm at unexpected events, and are more objective of their own behavior. Making choices (the right one) is what chess is all about. That’s not easy to do, especially knowing there are more possible chess positions than people on the planet. It’s even harder when you understand there are more chess positions than atoms in the known universe (scientists agree an estimated 10^81 atoms currently exist, while the number of chess positions exceed 10^119). Often I find myself at the chess board with no obvious good move available to me. In that case, the best I can do is better my current position. How to go about doing that is not an easy process. What will give me better control of the center?  Is my king safe? How can I set up a tactical trap for my opponent? If I find I have a brilliant move combination in store for my competitor, and he discovers a magnificent counter of his own, I have to be level-headed about it. I can’t simply let my emotions contaminate my thoughts and force me to make a terrible move. But there is no doubt it’s a blow to one’s ego to have a seemingly great plan go awry. And when this inevitable blow to the ego happens, I have to be able to admit I was wrong . I have to admit I made an error in my analyzing. This objectivity towards one’s own performance is found among the majority of chess players I’ve met. They’re often quick to tell you their weak points of the game and eager to tell you their strong points. I’ve found taking advantageous of this information on an opponent can often lead to a won game.

   From a chess player’s point of view, there is nothing challenging about playing the game. What is challenging is becoming good. It’s hard to become good if you’re not passionate about it. I’m passionate about chess because of the complexity that can arise in just three moves into the game. Chess grandmaster and theorist Miguel Najdorf once said, “If you want to succeed, you have to put chess first in your life. But that is not enough – you must also put it second and third.” This is the mindset of a passionate chess player. To be good is not enough; one must be always improving until he or she can be called one of the best in the world. To conclude this autoethnography, I will use the words of once World Champion Bobby Fischer: “Chess is life.”

Sorry to disappoint you tonydal, is it such a word.