Spanish torture

 When I realised some months ago that my weekend chess-playing would be severely limited this season, I took it as a given that the BUCA Championship would get top billing. As a player I don't much like it - the time control is too fast and I rarely face people close to my own grade - but I only get to represent Bristol University a few more times, and it is good to support a growing event with an unusually young demographic. This year there was another appeal: an insanely strong field. Bristol only had enough players for one team, but we were strong enough to be in the top section - and I was on board 2. A daunting prospect, but as someone pointed out to me, I barely needed to score anything for a positive grading performance.

 Since our car was too small for our 5-man squad, I ended up taking my railcard on the train to Birmingham instead. I got spectacularly lost in Birmingham Airport, looking for the shuttle bus to the hotel that actually runs from the train station instead, and arrived long after the first round started. Humiliating, but I got my wish of sitting it out, and we beat Sussex (my insurance university) 2.5-1.5 to set up a match with the very strong Edinburgh team. They routinely flatter to deceive, but 212f-221f, 164-212, 147-193, 128f-199 is pretty comprehensive. Even on board 2, I was facing a titled player - the newly-minted FM Clement Sreeves, graded 212.

 This was one of the strangest matches I will ever see, with inexplicable things happening on all of the boards. That included mine, where I did far more than just hold my own. But although the game might have been unusual, the conclusion was anything but:

 An unbelievable turn of events - and that's just the match score, a 2.5-1.5 win (WLWD). Arguably every player on our team is under-graded, but not by that much! I was delighted by that result, of course, but my own showing left me as dismayed as I was encouraged.

 This game seems to support my belief that, given the right kind of position, I can play to a far higher level than 164. Apparently black walked into something he was uncomfortable with, but he is still an FM! You would expect him to find a way through, or at the very least make a fight of it. Instead he just crumbled into passivity before rounding things off with a massive tactical error. That said, I think I played my part: once given a clear plan of rounding up the c4 pawn, everything ran on oiled wheels. Even after mindlessly throwing away that pawn, I kept my composure and quickly converted it into an exchange. Overall, I think it's fair to say I totally outplayed him, and I can only take heart from that - in the right situation I can be a danger to almost anyone.

 But moral victories don't count, and there is no getting away from the fact that my attempt to cash in turned into yet another car crash. Partly this is the barbaric time control, which I have condemned loudly and repeatedly to no avail, and partly it is appalling technique. But it must be chiefly psychological. I am terrified, not of strong opponents (the last 4 months laid that to rest, I hope) but of the endgame itself, for I can self-destruct in any position when the time comes to turn +- into 1-0. This one looks bad, but believe me, it's just the appetiser! That is why I said in January that 2015 must be my 'year of technique' - unfortunately 2015 is also my year of graduation, so it's little more than a slogan at the moment. Clearly though, it's more pressing than ever.

 Not the ideal start, but at least I was confident after this that I wasn't about to be unceremoniously crushed by everyone in sight. As another boost, Bristol's 2/2 start earned us promotion to the DGT live board for round 3. On that optimistic note I turned my attention to what turned out to be my only game of the event not subject to the 40 point rule!