I was pleased to see that a lot of people I know were playing, and I faced one of them in the first round: Sam Porter (177/1896), who has just finished a degree at Imperial College London and was top board for Trinity School when their rivalry with SGS was at its peak. For a while he'd hovered around 160 but suddenly leapt up in the last 6 months - given the horror with which he reacted to discovering that I outgraded him by 1 point when he asked me at BUCA, I wouldn't be surprised if that was the motivation for the jump. Another friend succintly described him as "a very strong practical player" - whilst I can do a good Korchnoi impression when my back's against the wall, Sam takes this further and displays unlimited patience in trying to squeeze out every possible half-point. He plays sharply, aggressively and quickly, and this puts opponents under pressure.
Our game was a strange one - after a tepid opening I was given a pawn that looked to be very temporary indeed, yet for some reason he never seemed to get round to recouping it. Slowly I untangled my pieces and eventually he didn't really have anything for it. Then I drifted back into passivity, worked hard in severe time pressure to preserve what was now only a draw, and then at the last moment threw away the full point in spectacular fashion:
This is probably the sort of game I despise above all others. I've never really been into Petrosian, perhaps the archetypal 'marmite' world champion, but I have seen a few quotations of his with which I greatly sympathise, none more so than "I'm absolutely convinced that in chess – although it remains a game – there is nothing accidental. And this is my credo. I like only those chess games, in which I have played in accordance with the position requirements... I believe only in logical and right game." I tried to elaborate this to someone by describing myself as a chessical Javert - crazed anti-positional hacks, and attempts to win in totally drawn endings, should always be doomed to failure, and I'm upset when I fail to 'police' the chessboard correctly.
I'm sure the reader can understand that it was difficult for me to revisit this trauma, but psychologically it is very instructive in all stages. In any case, with 4 rounds after this one it was essential for me to calm down from the feiry temper I was in as it finished, which I managed to do, although for games such as this the wounds can never fully heal. At the end of the day, they happen and life goes on. In later rounds I gradually rediscovered the usual energy in my play; in that regard being embroiled in such a struggle didn't hurt, though you couldn't guess from the future course of the event.
In this game my chief problem continued to be passive play - rather like a rabbit caught in the headlights, which is strange as I told myself before the game that he couldn't be a 'real' 177, based on the pasting he received on one of my rare forays into mid-tournament friendly games at Easter. But my opening can hardly be termed assertive, and the only way I could conceive to solve the problem of my Knight was to incur tripled isolated c-pawns. Even after consolidating I managed to slide back into a lifeless position, before losing everything in a rush of blood. Defending constantly is a trying experience, and as someone who likes to play actively I find it especially demanding. I choke less often than I used to, but evidently the problem is not gone completely.
My attempt to fight back began in the second round. It was a one-game-a-day format, so I could return home, try to forget this and start again from scratch.
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