We were playing Shropshire this time, and were hoping to win: 186-171, e180-162, 180-159, 158-152, 159-146, 152-146. Since we were one of the bottom two matches (of 23) we found ourselves in a slightly cramped side room, and whilst it was a shame to be isolated from most of the matches, it wasn't too far a walk to go and look every now and again.
Not for the first time, preparation was when things started to come off the rails. My opponent, Christopher Lewis turned out to be a keen advocate of the Dutch versus 1. d4/c4 - I didn't trust my theory quite enough to go into the mainlines, didn't trust the anti-Dutch gambits in themselves, and always seem to get mated in online games when I try to play an English formation. Of course there is one very good anti-Dutch weapon available on move 1, but I was very keen not to play another 1. e4 - I've allegedly given it up, have perceived too many 'special cases' already, and I would have to face the French. It might sound ridiculous for me of all people to say that, but my later performances against it were not good and I hadn't looked at the lines in a while. But I let my captain decide, and discovered I was going to play 1. e4 after all. That may well have been the right decision, but there's no allowing for stupidity and I followed it up with a terrible display:
Lately I've often been able to console myself with the thought that at least the team won - this time, it didn't (3-3; LDWDLW) and given how close we'd come to getting something the day before, it was a rather glum weekend, and especially for the two of our players who lost both games! Looking at the position after 17 moves and armed with the hindsight that I only needed to steer it to a draw for us to take both match-points, I can't help feeling rather guilty.
It's a bad habit of mine to always blame a bad result on the choice of opening, but I can't really do that this time: black seemed to be going in cold and got a terrible position. I try to play other things at the moment, but I still play like a committed KP man.* Once the position simplified it just turned into a horror show; it's a paradox that I seem to blunder less in complex positions, since they force me to keep concentrating fully. If the Saturday defeat was a case of my opponent winning the game, this was definitely one of me losing it.
Form is an elusive thing; this game served notice that it's gone missing again. I guess that to some extent it's inevitable as my degree work has eaten up most of my time - you have to work just to stand still. Nevertheless it was a wake-up call, in this game and in the one against Owens, that I've started missing all of the small tactical sequences that lurk in the background - see 18. Bc3?, 28. Rd4?, 32. Bd4?, 37. Bf4?. It just hurts a lot that this game should have gone south after such a promising start, and against an opponent whose play I am unconvinced by. He did what he needed to do, however, and against me that often seems to amount to just waiting.
As I alluded to several times in the notes, I performed quite a detailed autopsy with my captain afterwards. One other comment of his was particularly interesting: that when the opening advantage disappeared, I was still playing to win rather than to draw. I find this difficult to understand: I was just trying to play the best moves! I never thought I had very much, but I try not to let evaluation influence things too much: keep trying for something and depending on how black plays the game will meander towards a white win or a draw. Unfortunately I didn't allow for myself; it really is hard to express just how frustrated I am with myself after such a game.
But I could only spend a few hours sulking about the injustice of it all: our league team was straight back into the thick of it the very next day, away to Clevedon.
* The best way I've found to try and square this circle is simple: play as black instead. In case you're thinking it's strange for a captain in a league with pre-determined board colours to almost never get white...
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