The lost ideal of objectivity

 After my breakneck final day of term, I could have justly felt shattered and spent much of Saturday in bed. But such is not my way - instead I was straight off to a chess tournament! But of course it is fortunate to be close to such a big event as the London Chess Classic; after missing all of it last year, I was keen to make it this time. I did draw the line at playing in one of the tournaments though - the entry fees ramped up very considerably as the late penalties kicked in, and I would hardly be in great shape.

 That said, I'm quite active as a filler, and this turned out to be another good day for me, for I was asked to play in the U-1800 section of the weekender tournament. It was only in the morning round, so I avoided wiping myself out completely and got to watch not only the various amateur events in the afternoon, but also the quarter-finals of the Super-GM rapidplay.

 However, that was in the future: for now, I had to deal with my opponent! He was Carlo Paglialunga (125/1646) whose strength I didn't know at the time of the game. But since he was on 0/1 in an U-1800 section, I was obviously out to win. I did just that, and at the time I felt it was smooth enough. Looking again, I realise I was not approaching the game in the correct way:

 There's no getting around the fact that my style of play can lead to some very questionable positions; it's essential for me to take my chances when they come. I did at least pull that off (and just wait until I publish my next two games...) and the end must be considered rather abrupt - I doubt white will make a strategic error like 24. Bxc5? again in a hurry! Other than that, I am no longer very pleased with my showing.

 I was simply overconfident in this game - justifiably, if one only looks at the result, but look at the position prior to move 20 and it's clear that my reliance on extra grading points could easily have given me burnt fingers. It's also not good for someone who blogs all his games and preaches the virtue of objectivity! But I was simply not willing to read the position correctly - in the critical phase from moves 13-20, I could see the signs that I had difficulties, but fondly imagined that they were outweighed by vague 'counterplay'. There was no such thing! Only later did this emerge, when white utterly failed to press his case.

 The afternoon was good fun; actually I spent most of my time watching the amateur games. The various people I knew had some good, and not so good, results. But at the more exalted heights, Kramnik's quarter-final win over Anand was crushing, though my attempts to evaluate the positions out of the opening were laughably inaccurate. In the foyer, Luke McShane was destroying all comers at 1:5 handicap blitz games for charity - truly a sight to behold. It was amusing to see contrasting attempts by the big names to sneak across the hall un-noticed; Gelfand donned a flat-cap and somehow pulled it off, but Caruana was not so lucky - he is an unbelievably ordinary-looking person, but still the world number 6! Finally, as I left the building I shared the lift with Peter Svidler, and gave the ultimate sign of respect - leaving him be.

 Well, that's my travel writing for the year done, I think! But not the chess; a couple of days later I was back at the far more familiar haunt of CCF for a vital cup match.