If the Major Open had been played in reverse - if I'd recovered from ½/3 with five wins and a draw in the remaining six games - I would surely have hailed a great success. I qualified for the Championship at long last. I performed at 195. I can touch a 2000 FIDE rating. But I must rue an opportunity lost. I'll take it, don't get me wrong... but oh, to have those last three days back! My first time at the sharp end was a painful experience, but I will take a lot from it. Hopefully the reader can too.
Starting with the upsides, I was able to follow the Gatwick formula and settle into a good routine. It's only to feel ready to play, but I think it's important: in tournaments you have to tune out any distractions. Hence it's total fiction that you only need a week off for a 9-rounder. Some rest beforehand helped, but leaving on the day of the last round proved a serious error. Anyway, I got into my stride quickly and soon forgot about the Weald.
When my serve landed it really stung: I won my first three games in the opening, usually got an advantage and at least equalised with every black. Yet for once I couldn't count on people walking into my prep like lemmings. My sharp and narrow repertoire makes me easy to ambush, and I finally tripped up against Crocker. Armed with good understanding and even some tactics, I played good chess, and my best efforts - against Blake, Costley and maybe Neale - were achievements despite their flaws. My calculation was as painful as ever, but judging by the first six rounds I'd be an FM if I played every game at peak strength! (If...)
I see two reasons why good preparation and play weren't enough. First, my El-ahrairah tournament tactics ("all the world will be your enemy, and when they catch you they will kill you. But first they must catch you...") took me charging into the sole lead by round 4. That made me into a target, and over the last five rounds I played the four highest-graded players. My lead was wiped out by one game, and the stress is unimaginable. Meanwhile the winner lost in round two and recovered by stealth. You must pace yourself in long events.
Second, of course, was the mental game. As I'd always feared, I was my own toughest pairing - I was so scared of throwing it all away that in the end I could think of nothing else. Ironically, I did show some real fortitude! I rose to the challenge of Costley's preparation, overcame obstacle after obstacle against Blake and faced my demons against Tozer after a bad loss. But there was the conversion against Sivarajasingam, the surreal game against Sugden and the double collapse against Brown. Despite sitting on a 215 performance, it only took one loss to throw my nerves off for good. In this one tournament I made twice as many draw offers as in 2017 to date! I knew they gave bad signals, but I always felt I had to know. The pressure is impossible to describe, so I think the only cure is experience. If it ever happens to you, all I can advise is that you must have done something right - and you won't forget how to play chess overnight.
Tarrasch got in first with the short version of this post: "it is not enough to be a good player; you must also play well." I was motivated, well prepared and able to find a lot of good ideas. I had all the ingredients to succeed, except one - it was my first time.
But enough philosophising for now. Only a few days after returning home, and clearly a glutton for punishment, I entered another Richmond Rapidplay. This one turned out a bit differently to the last few though...
No comments:
Post a Comment