What makes chess so maddening is that you never know for sure what you're going to get. I've beaten half a dozen titled players, and lost to people graded a hundred points below me. Helped teams perform miracles, and watched most of them disband. Dominated one of the top British tournaments only to throw it all away, and now scored 50% in my national championship as the lowest-graded entrant. My exploits in Hull can go straight in at the top of the list without any real discussion, but whatever I was expecting it wasn't this. So why did it happen - and what in fact did happen?
For me the two most important factors were motivation and my underdog status, which dovetailed. Simply being there made this the tournament of my life before it started, and I was desperate not to make a fool of myself; for most of my opponents though it was just another stop on the calendar. Whilst I was under no pressure, everyone else had to go all-out to beat me and thereby give me something to chew on. With no expectations I was spared my usual agonising nerves, even into the fourth hour and beyond.
The job hunt stress was gone, and having played so little since May my poor form was a past life. I was well rested, and maybe too well since I put more work into my Nintendo Switch than my chess in the weeks beforehand! I came to Hull in a good place and just followed my routine. With one long game a day I can truly bring my preparation to bear, and it's harder to drag my principled style into the swamp. A strong start was vital: I am a different player with momentum, and three wins came in consecutive rounds.
Most readers don't know that I've occasionally gone cap-in-hand to John Emms, a very correct Grandmaster who wrote two books called Simple Chess. But after such a result I can't hide it. He had some priceless words of wisdom before the tournament: "I learnt more watching you at 4NCL than from the games." I looked distracted, always pacing, and he concluded I was being lazy. His cure was to always stay sat at the board, which I laughed off as impossible but decided to try anyway. My clock has been running slower ever since! Philosophers like me pay for their lack of concentration, so this small change made a huge difference.
This tournament was about me finally playing at a level commensurate with my understanding. I got good positions and kept them, rather than being blown off course by laziness, blunders or nerves. From looking at the games with my opponents it's clear they all saw way more than I did, but I'm not concerned since I felt the games better. There was a match some years ago between Michael Adams and Jonathan Rowson; Adams saw almost nothing and won 5-1. I feared for my preparation at this level, but it was as deadly as ever - and not just against Muir! I consistently got good positions, and crucially understood the ensuing middlegames too.
But I'm mindful that I scored 4½/9, not 9/9. My poor calculation is no secret; I assume too much and overlook a great deal. Lack of fight in bad positions was less obvious, and it arises from fatalism. The rush to the second rank against McPhillips, knowing I didn't deserve to lose a pawn; the slide into defence against Murphy; Kolbus's easy escape to a draw - too often I prefer principled moves to setting problems. Maybe Malcolm Pein was right when he said I know too much about chess for my own good.
Where now is the big question. Whilst application at the board is simple and the euphoria will linger, the context was one-off. But it's proof I can play like a 2300. My score was no accident - I may play the chess of a simpleton but I compensate in understanding, and perhaps they come together. Although peak performance and true strength are different, I can now dream I might get there one day, and in the long run I have an obligation to try. In January I gave up a fun, well-paid job because I'd never forgive myself if I settled for less than I was capable of. That's why this blog has a proper name after seven years (admittedly aims are expected to be met - this is an aspiration, but the homage is too good to miss). So let's see what happens.
Right now I'm about to start training as an accountant, which isn't noted for providing free time. I don't know how much I can play now, but surely less. Rest assured that my motivation burns as brightly as ever, and whilst I play I will blog. I don't know when and don't know where, but we will meet again...
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