Wednesday, 11 March 2015

Fear and misery on the third rank

 I just handed an essay in, if you're wondering. Anyway, now it was the third round of the BUCA Championship, and Bristol's flying start had raised us up to the second match (and the DGT internet-broadcast boards) where we played Southampton. This was much less demanding than we expected, but the top seeds Cambridge and Imperial (both averaging over 200!) were playing the decisive match of the event - Cambridge won - leaving the downfloat to us. A temporary reprieve, but hardly a pushover - we were outgraded 212f-191, 164-182, 128f-169, 130-173. Still, if we could beat Edinburgh...

 I was on board 2 again, and I had black against Shubham Chandna (182). He was on board 3 when we drew with Southampton last year, and I remembered how he had slipped through our fingers despite having a miserable position all game. Now it was my turn to repay the compliment, but in so doing I only continued the horror show from my first game:



 We lost 1-3 (DDLL) but we were still well-placed on 4/6. At the time I was not put out too badly by the end result - even in this field I wanted to have something on the board, and I recognised that I had a terrible position for most of the game. A dispassionate look two weeks later darkens my feelings. I think we have to consider this as two games, before and after 28... a4 when I stopped recording moves.

 The 'first game' shows why establishing a Maroczy Bind was once thought tantamount to victory. Undoubtedly my choice of opening scheme didn't help (...e6 systems are only needed when white tries to set up an e4/d4 pawn centre; usually ...g6 lines look easier) but I was ignominiously consigned to a little box on my first three ranks, left to gaze longingly at the greener pastures on white's side of the board. White had the right idea strategically: close down any chance for me to create counterplay, then use his freer movement to start an attack on the Kingside. But he was let down by his impatience. All white had to do was play Kh1 before pushing his f-pawn (in order to eliminate my ...Nxc4/...Qa7+ combination) and I would have been totally out of ideas! I was given a chance a few moves earlier to break out with 26... d5!, and his play felt a bit trappish at some moments, but let's not make any bones about it, I was comprehensively outplayed here as in no other game from this event.

 However, in a curious reversal of the normal story, my opponent lost his cool as soon as I started getting active. In just a few moves my position went from borderline lost to definitely won. I can usually find the one way to get active in middlegames - if only that talent extended to endgames! All the tactics worked out for me, and suddenly I had two extra pawns and the better position. Then - yet again - I couldn't make it happen. Why? I am sure it must be my handling of time trouble. In Secrets of Practical Chess, Nunn gives a few thoughts on how to avoid time trouble, and then curtly moves on with a comment along the lines of 'I won't give any advice on what to do in time trouble, because it shouldn't arise.' In a 7-hour playing session I have a lot of sympathy with this argument, but here I disagree: 60+10 is just a rapidplay game where you can take a bit more time in the opening. Time scrambles aren't avoidable, and for a national championship they lower the quality of play far too much. But we have to deal with them, and I do it conspicuously badly.

 I remember that when I was playing some blitz games at Downend a few months ago, someone commented that it's easy to tell when I've missed something: I start thinking. This is very true, and the same goes in time trouble. My opinion is that it's panic; I consider 5 minutes to be almost nothing and rush far more than I need to. Nervousness also explains the general direction of my play - determined to simplify as rapidly as possible, totally defensive, and not trusting myself to take the all-or-nothing step of forcing a pawn ending, even though it is obviously winning without any analysis. That's to say nothing of my draw offer at the end. Self-doubt is the greatest enemy of a competitor in any field. But what is there to do? I've explained before why I stopped playing online blitz - I am too lazy a calculator as it is without relying on instinct even more, and there are simply better ways to spend my life - but maybe there is something to say for it after all. I played some OTB blitz games a couple of weeks ago and was horrified by how badly I played; I used to be quite good at blitz but not now! My objections remain, but how else can one work on time trouble? It's a failing that costs me too much to be ignored, as future games will show.

 If we were expecting a more gentle treatment for the Sunday morning round, we were to be disappointed - an upfloat to play Cambridge. That meant an even higher-graded opponent for me than I had against Edinburgh.

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