Vimeo has, amongst its many treasures, short films on chess aplenty. Here’s an intriguing mini-series that appears to have much hard work put into it. How many films can you name?
Posted in Personal Interest & Experience on October 30, 2015| Leave a Comment »
Vimeo has, amongst its many treasures, short films on chess aplenty. Here’s an intriguing mini-series that appears to have much hard work put into it. How many films can you name?
Posted in Personal Interest & Experience on October 26, 2015| Leave a Comment »
Posted in Personal Interest & Experience on June 19, 2015| Leave a Comment »
Posted in Personal Interest & Experience, tagged Beds. league chess on May 9, 2015| Leave a Comment »
I recently went home for the first time in five years and participated in the Beds. league once more. My club, which has been struggling for many years now was at home against the mid-Bedfordshire giants Leighton Buzzard A, current champions of Bedfordshire. It was wonderful to see everyone again and be a part of something that I miss so much. My addition to the team, along with Damon D’Cruz meant that an unfancied and outgraded Luton team, pulled off a stunning victory and beat the very best in the league. After the match, our captain Michael Josephs could not stop smiling. There was a sense that when we are all back together again, this is what we can do. I left feeling proud that I had helped us win the match, it was a lovely evening. Kents Luton v Leighton Buzzard A
| Home Team: Kents Luton | Away Team: Leighton Buzzard A | ||||||
| Board | Name | Grade | Score | Score | Name | Grade | |
| 1 | Andrew Perkins | 183 | 1 | 0 | Stephen Law | 193 | |
| 2 | Damon D’Cruz | 159 | 0 | 1 | Kevin J Williamson | 174 | |
| 3 | Michael Joseph | 149 | 0.5 | 0.5 | Andy Tinker | 174 | |
| 4 | Mark McCready | 147e | 0.5 | 0.5 | Peter Hunt | 165 | |
| 5 | Samir Vora | 137 | 1 | 0 | Brian J Valentine | 169 | |
| Date Played: 30/03/2015 | 3 | 2 | |||||
Posted in Personal Interest & Experience, tagged bedfordshire chess on October 13, 2014| Leave a Comment »
On September 14th, my home county Bedfordshire showed great resolve by beating Buckinghamshire in this year’s Fleming Trophy despite the fact that we were out-graded on 15 of the 16 boards.
You can find the match result by clicking on the following link.
http://www.bedfordchess.co.uk/beds-beat-bucks/
Well done Bedfordshire.
Posted in Personal Interest & Experience, tagged ghost town chess on April 27, 2014| Leave a Comment »
“Mountains should be climbed with as little effort as possible and without desire. The reality of your own nature should determine the speed. If you become restless, speed up. If you become winded, slow down. You climb the mountain in an equilibrium between restlessness and exhaustion.” Pirsig – Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.
One Sunday afternoon in the middle of April, the Spanish Grandmaster Jose Vallejo Pons stood clutching a prized golden king to his chest amid the final applause of the closing ceremony. It was he who finished as champion of the Fourteenth Bangkok Open, with seven and a half out of nine. He was the highest rated of the forty or so titled and two hundred, or thereabouts, untitled players and thus the favourite. The lead was shared from start to finish, except for round five, being eventually decided on tie-break by just half a point with Grandmaster Oliver Barbosa finishing as runner-up. The final standings can be found here http://www.chess-results.com/tnr130151.aspx?lan=1&art=1&rd=9&turdet=YES&flag=30&wi=984. An interview with the champion by my ex-colleague Alex can be found here. http://bangkokchess.com/archives/4354.
A sense of security, like pockets jingling?
In the months leading up to the tournament, political unrest threatened its very existence, with the streets surrounding the venue seized by thousands of anti-government demonstrators playing loud music and blaring out propaganda all night long. Media stations across the globe reported the fighting that ensued, the senseless killings that occurred, and the political malaise the country had, again, sunk into. Bookings were cancelled as fast as they were taken, adjoining nations were noticeably absent, sometimes entire groups just dropped out after following ‘official advice’. The 5-star Dusit Thani, generously offered to accommodate us elsewhere should the political crises worsen, but with two weeks to go both pro-supporters and anti-government protesters promised there would be no violence over the New Year holiday when the tournament was scheduled. A decision was then made for the tournament to go ahead in the capital. And go ahead without disruption it did.
Some say we’re born into the grave.
In Thailand at New Year, many choose to leave the capital and celebrate in the provinces but the anti-government movement stayed put. They moved to the park opposite the venue and kept in good company with various other creatures. The Thai New Year, or ‘Songkran’ as it’s called, is the longest of all its public holidays, and the only one in which an eight-day chess tournament can be held. Traditionally, it is celebrated by the throwing of water but in modern times this has got drastically out of hand. The celebrations now far exceed that necessary: most spend three days or so fighting with water non-stop, be that with ice, chili or flour to add impact, staying mostly drunk in the process. The Thais are a fun-loving bunch, Songkran is the cultural apogee of what they are about. Sadly, in the ‘land of smiles’ life is cheap and people die in their hundreds each year as a result, in all manner of tragic accidents on the roads. For the Thais, to die within a cacophony of celebrations is more acceptable culturally than to die within the din of political disquietude -it is better to die on the roads than in the streets, so many believe. There was no political violence but the country’s death toll rose way beyond anything a civilized nation would consider acceptable once more, as it will do next year, and the year after that of course. And will this ever be reported as extensively? Of course not because people are having fun when they die…its a sort of cheery death at Songkran.
Chess is a contributor to net human unhappiness, since the pleasure of victory is greatly exceeded by the pain of defeat. – Bill Hartston
We chess players, however, can pride ourselves on being too rational to be roped into such lunacy. We opt instead to see the Thai New Year in whilst sitting amongst our clan quietly, listening to the calming whoosh of air-con for hours on end in a softly lit ballroom. A stark, but sane, contrast to the madness outside the venue. After all, who wants to have fun when there’s hours of nerve-racking chess to be played? I joined them once more, read on if you want to see how it unfolded.
A few pre-tournament thoughts – doing it my way.
I haven’t played classical chess, proper chess that is, for exactly one year now. It was my birthday when I played last, thrashing some German doctor with my Dutch Defence. I want to prove that I can handle myself and perform without regular practice still, if only to myself. I want to play with consistency and improve on my score from last year but I am not sure if that is possible. There’s neither time nor motivation for preparation these days but I focus my mind much earlier this year to give myself every chance by removing as many distractions as possible. It has to be this way: the time put aside, the money spent on entry fees and transport, and my own determination insist. I cannot double-up as daddy or even official photographer during play if I want to remain focused and find my way through the tournament.
“You look at where you’re going and where you are and it never makes sense, but then you look back at where you’ve been and a pattern seems to emerge.” Pirsig – Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance.
A motorbike trip to Myanmar has had consequences. I broke a tooth in half and chipped my glasses during sleep one night (don’t ask me how) and then got badly burnt in the lowlands on my way back after numerous delays. The allergy to sunlight has got me wrong again…I think I’ve been in this part of the world for too long, assuming my skin is a layer of sun-cream and mosquito repellent somehow -I never put that stuff on nowadays. When the tournament begins I’ll be on strong medication and covered up…I can console myself with a tan when the skin’s recovered -ah the perils of being too British!
The day just before the tournament.
My wife has agreed to help with the pre-tournament organizations again, so the little one is with me. I take Grace to the venue to gain her seal of approval. The Nappalai Ballroom is great for her, she loves its grandeur and spends hours running through the rows of tables, stopping only to feel the carpet below and stare into the chandeliers above. She gets so excited she whacks her forehead twice. We put ice cubes on it, which she proceeds to eat then runs towards the top boards, because they are cordoned off and have swivel chairs. She spins round and round in them until daddy stops her. She’s too noisy energetic for admittance during play, so she’ll come again when play is over…the hotel staff will like that.
The first day
So I am paired against a Chinese WIM, rated 2206. I can beat her my best, which I’m nowhere near yet.

I am white, a strange choice of opening by my opponent but an effective one as I spent too much time wondering which central pawn to push and where to put my bishops.

White plays 11 d5? and in doing so concedes the central dark squares. The black knights will come to g4 and e5. White already has many problems to solve. I was not happy with my position at all.
Black plays 24…Rxh3!
The game then went 25 c6 Bxc6 26 dxc6 Qxc6 27 Rc1 Qd5, at which point, with barely two minutes left and 13 moves to be played still, I blundered with Qxe7. It didn’t matter as the position above is already close to lost. Fritz suggests that instead of 28 Qxe7?? I harass the black queen further with 28 Rcd1, then after …Nf3 (threatening to win the queen and mate) 29 Qg3 and Qxd1! (see diagram below)
The New Year festivities will start tomorrow, so I take advantage of the quiet before the storm and go for a quick drink with a fellow Englishman. We have a very typical ex-pat conversation, with the first half spent talking about where we have been since we last met, the second half talking about football and the other half slagging England off. All in an English pub whilst drinking English beer of course!
The second day
There is something seriously wrong with waking up at 7 am to play chess but this is what I do on day two. It’s the dreaded double round day. Not a morning player, the brain doesn’t get into gear at any point. I am paired against a Fijian CM rated 2046 first.
I’ve studied the McCutcheon more than any other line in the French but I’m not awake enough to play it as it should be played…I am not awake enough to play full stop.

Kf8 is a better move than g6 here. Moving the g-pawn only creates another hole and gives white an easy attack with the h-pawn. In Kf8 lines it is the black f-pawn that usually comes under attack but black has good defensive resources, with as Bd7-e8, Ke7 and Rf8.
In second game I face an unrated player. I never know what to do against them. Caution is the best policy, I suppose, but frustrated from being on the back foot in last two games I try too hard, over-extend and lose again… frankly, I was too tired to care -far too much chess in one day.
The second game that day

After 8 hours of chess, fatigue is kicking in, I am drifting in time trouble once more, I have less than 5 seconds to make my 38th move which is Rxe4. Putting me ahead in the game
Despite the material advantage a blunder 20 moves later means a third consecutive loss. I am finding my way still, so its okay. Three blunders per tournament is acceptable. I have played three games and made two in time trouble already. Not good.
Caught in a mosh!
I use public transport to go home as both the subway and sky train are close to the hotel exit. I chose the skytrain as it’s connected to a skywalk -a safe haven I thought? I’m carrying a laptop but there are water throwers everywhere. I’m still dry as I walk but the station ahead is shutting down, it’s in chaos: there are people too drunk to move off the floor, people arguing, people pushing through the turnstiles without paying, people being accosted by security, all ticket machines shut down, the floor is one massive puddle of dirty water and beer with rubbish strewn everywhere, like the street below, the skywalk is a never-ending mosh pit: squeezed between hundreds of wet bodies, I move where they do, the stench of alcohol inescapable. When I finally get on the skytrain it empties out as we head further and further into the city. There are no commuters just wet, pissed up party-goers and one dry, solemn chess player.
Defeated by three straight losses as I sit in a taxi heading into the northern suburbs. It is dusk. The roads are quiet. I am too tired to think about anything. I am staring across the expressway into the darkening sky in the distance. At speed the road’s smooth surface numbs my mind further, as I sink into my seat nothing is said between the driver and myself. I am feeling my way home through suburbia under a flat city sky, following vehicles in front at random until they disappear into the provinces beyond but somewhere, somehow I feel more alive to what is facing me tomorrow. It stays with me, that I realize as I suddenly reach home in double-quick time.
The third day
I emulate Fischer off the board by arriving late but alas not on it. No one said rounds 4-9 are played at 2 pm and not 3.30. I arrived 17 minutes late thinking I was too early! In the game I walk into time trouble again -now there’s a surprise! I play the Sicilian Sveshnikov for the first time ever in classical chess against a fellow Englishman, who deviates early on. I should have played something I am more familiar with given the lost time. Nevermind, I enjoyed the game anyway. Look forward to playing it again.

If this diagram isn’t an object of beauty, then I don’t know what is. The last major theoretical discovery in chess.

With Nd5 black should play Be7 or try Qa5+. I chose Be6 which was premature and not the best option. The absence of preparation took its toll once more.

Having weathered a paltry kingside attack the queen’s rook is about to enter the game with devastating effect with Rc4 and e4 or g4 to come.
The city empties for a final time…why can’t it always be like this? Why can’t everyone just stay up country and never come back? Bangkok feels like a ghost town -I love it.
In the park opposite the venue, a guard was shot and killed last night. No one knows why…probably there wasn’t a reason. It happened during a concert, the show went on regardless I’m sure…how can someone do something like that?
The fourth day
I was awoken by electronic renditions of ‘She’ll be comin’ round the mountain’ from the little one’s bicycle….must remember to take the batteries of that thing. Such a dubious tune reminds me not to open youtube and play 80’s tracks for the little one as I get dressed. Is there anything worse than playing chess all day with some dodgy pop song stuck in your head? Anyway, I don’t care who I play anymore or how good they are, I will attack with the white pieces. I enjoy it being on the front foot more and a win at some point would be nice!

White has just played 6 Bb5. There is a reason why the bishop should not go to c4, and that is because black can still play e6, after which he can play Nge7 and win a tempo with d5.

In Gawain Jones’s book on the Grand Prix Attack (pg.137), he claims that black must attack on the queenside immediately like this but considers it suspicious as do I.

Returning to the game, the position after 10 Qh4. Black is already in trouble. Where is his counter-play?

After 13…Nf5. It’s not often that I sac the exchange without even thinking about it but this is what I did with 14 Rxf5 as it seemed so obvious. According to Fritz black should not recapture immediately. He must play Bd4 with …f6 to follow.

The game has moved on but my opponent is still playing strange moves. The knight is far too strong to be left on the board. I was expecting 18…Rxe4 at which point it’s game on. After 18…Ke7 the attack just played itself.

Game over. After 24 Nxf8 Kd8. White plays 25 Ne6. A strange win that didn’t really count owing to the play of my opponent.
The fifth day
I have remembered to arrive on time! Among the also-rans, I play some Norwegian dude who never speaks to anyone. Like his skinny Singaporean counterpart with his 1980’s felt sun-shade playing on the board next to us, he plays irrational, incoherent chess which makes for nothing other than hard work. I have the black pieces today.

I play the classical Dutch and have a very good record with it. 7…a5 is a useful semi-waiting move. White often wants to expand on the queenside which it deters, but more importantly, his queen will usually come to c2, This means black can play the knight to c6, and if it is attacked with d5 (one of white’s trump moves in the Dutch) it can come into b4 with tempo. After which he can play e5 with equality.
Another victory pushes me up the table again. An incident occurs before the game. A Dutchman walks along the tournament hall whilst eating a prawn sandwich with a strange bird-like manner. He leaves a trail of prawns on the carpet and walks off without picking them up. Nobody else does either. Everyone’s just sitting around, waiting for the next game to start.
The heavens open on the way home but people still throw water in the streets. It is the pinnacle of pointlessness. A semblance of normality to return tomorrow?
The sixth day
I play with the white and come up against the French. My opponent is just under 2000. In the analysis room afterwards, he tells me he’d received some Ginger GM training in his pet line courtesy of skype. I haven’t played against it before and am at a disadvantage. I spend the opening adorning my new tan whilst occasionally looking at the board -not!

I have developed normally and was waiting for black to castle kingside. A mistake on my part based on the assumption that he would play f6 at some point. I played Bb1 here which is far too optimistic.

The center has been closed so that the black king can take shelter there. Black’s pieces are working together, mine aren’t. I am already playing black’s game and not my own.

A centralized queen and a flank attack. I am under pressure and play the losing Ne2. After Ra1 and Bg5 white is lost.
I am outplayed -it happens. The FIDE no talking rule is chosen at random and enforced today meaning that no one is allowed to talk to anyone during their game. It’s just another measure to try and stop people cheating but no one pays attention. The new FIDE rules regarding dress are never mentioned, even though dozens of players would fall foul of them.
The seventh day
I play with black against some Austrian with a longer name and bigger body than Schwarzenegger, he’s around the 2000 mark (Elo not Kg’s). I can harness the nervous energy I feel before each game now. I’m fully focused, it’s Good Friday, I unleash a holy terror.

Though 4. a3 isn’t a complete waste of a move, it does suggest that white doesn’t know how to play against the Dutch defence.

I’ve had this played against me by an IM but I don’t understand how white can gain any advantage from 6. d5. It’s far too early in my opinion.

Don’t ask me what’s going on here. Both players are shuffling minor pieces around the center to find their best squares but white shouldn’t need to do this given that he has more space against the Dutch.
The problem with this move is that it weakens the kingside. I disregarded Nc5 (which looks okay) in favour of Bh4! White’s position is a mess already, I know I can exploit that with a well-timed sacrifice and begin looking at a sac on g3. I looked 5 moves ahead at the following position.
Spent about 5 minutes thinking about this position and thought the sacrifice could be justified for the following reasons in order of importance.
1 Black’s minor pieces have strong squares.
2 White is not well coordinated.
3 White cannot castle.
4 Black has already gained 3 pawns for his piece.
5 Black can take control of the center.
6 I cannot think of a coherent plan for white.
However, my opponent deviates with a very dubious move indeed.

White has just played Qd3 and is completely lost. The quickest win is the move I played 23 …Rae8, the idea is to push the f-pawn immediately with f4 (if Bxf4?? Bg6!). White must play his king to f2. Instead my opponent played 24 b3? I won soon after.
I get a respectful handshake from my opponent. My chess is back to normal as is the city -hurrah! With the subway as packed as ever, I stand all the way home contented!
The final day
I play some 13-year old Indian boy rated 1996 who demolished an IM, drew with an FM, then comfortably beat another player over 2300 in his first three games but that was at the beginning of the tournament and now we are at the end. His more recent results suggest that he is another who has lost their way during the tournament and now he is playing someone who has found his. It is that which is most important. I woke at 4.30 am for some reason and could not get back to sleep. I have the black pieces again. I see a GM picking his nose by the Concierge. Such shameful behaviour makes me wonder if he is behind the park shooting….I’ll consult an arbiter.

After a pawn exchange on e4 black has just played Bb4, forcing the knight to go back to c3 and move a third time. What on earth is my opponent doing?

White has just played 12 Qe2. Black must be very careful. I played …Bb7 as I don’t want to leave the knight hanging and I couldn’t see a way forward for white just yet.

White is pushing hard for a quick victory. I saw this position a few moves back and thought black was fine but I missed one move which is obvious now.

After 15…g6, white plays 18 Nxe6! I had forgotten that when the bishop goes to b7, the e6 square is weaker.

White is better, courtesy of the bishop pair and plays 18 Be4. Black must play actively or he will soon lose. Black plays 18…Qd4.

White has just played 19 Be3 and has used up a lot of time in trying to find a win. He now tries too hard and runs into trouble
I finish with four out of nine and forty-five places above where my rating suggests I should be. Most of my opponents were over two hundred Elo points above me though only two out-played me. A shame it ends just as I pick up form…for once I go home sad! But before that, my daughter returns to the tournament hall to cause mischief once more. This time she climbs up on the stage just before the winners and steals the S.Korean flag off it.
There is traditional Thai dancing for those who stayed on…and then the tournament ends. Everyone leaves, no one really knows anyone so nothing other than a few polite goodbyes are said, until next year… .

Grace plays chess. She banged her head twice on the tables and proceeded to eat the ice-cubes applied to it.

Ya dom. The Thais like to use these. Sometimes they leave them in their nostrils but most just sniff them occasionally. I saw at least two players using them at the board. Thai gamesmanship or nothing more than a minor distraction?

The ‘Kim’. The author sometimes sat among fountains and flowers whilst listening to this beautiful instrument before the start of play.
Posted in Personal Interest & Experience on March 27, 2014| Leave a Comment »
‘Love is the extremely difficult realization that something other than oneself is real. Love, and so art and morals, is the discovery of reality.’ Iris Murdoch – The Sublime and The Good
No sooner had I come in from the cold in some ex-soviet backwater, than I got roped into a quickplay tournament by the sweaty ChaoPraya river, Bangkok in some chess-themed bar entitled ‘The Checkmate Bar and Bistro’. A recent change in the law in Thailand states that whilst ensconced in the country, foreigners must now spend their entire savings on alcohol as opposed to a mere 95%, as per usual. Unfortunately for we chess players, the only appropriately themed bar in the country just had to be devoid of atmosphere and for those who want to be part of the ‘in crowd’ only. Thankfully, the ‘in crowd’ lurk during the evenings when the whole area comes to life (more on that to come). During the day it is dead. That few dozen melancholy woodpushers of which I was one, were left to wander around in the sweltering sun, far away from that filth that is the non-chess-playing pubic.
Not a number, not a free man… .
Since I play so infrequently, I thought that the tournament might help show where I’m at with my chess, given that I will participate in a major tournament next month….if my FIDE ID can be reactivated in time that is. Until I become a number again, I am not free to play in any official FIDE tournament. In an act of embittered patriotism, I was denumbered after being away from England’s green and pleasant lands for too long by the ECF.
I went window shopping today, I bought four windows! – Tommy Cooper
I’d never been to Asiatique, where the Checkmate Bar & Bistro is itself; Asiatique is a night bazaar, at best a pastiche of Asian culture for tourists, local teenagers, the occasional entrepreneur, and just about anyone out of the six million or so nearby; at worst, it’s a packed, over-priced, pretentious free for all lacking in any real character. In Asia most nationalities are either indifferent to, ignorant of, or utterly contemptuous towards one another, and when ethnic minorities or indigenous peoples’ become involved, attitudes become even more ungracious, generally speaking of course! Thankfully, whilst eating each others’ food and drinking their beer, all is forgotten. Even the Chinese can get stuck into some Sukiyaki whilst guzzling Asahi without fear of indigestion should the horrors of the Nanjing Massacre ever repeat on them during their meals -hence the commercial, not cultural, success of Asiatique. I thought that once the sun went down over the river; the Ferris wheel standing over it, the free boat rides along it, the endless lanes of stalls and entertainers leading to it, the crowds of shoppers wandering along it, and the light shows that shone onto it would be nice for the little one to see -and I was indeed correct.
I cannot think of any need in childhood as strong as the need for a father’s protection -Freud. Society and its Discontents
Even though parenthood and playing chess do not compliment one another well in such close proximity, I could not leave Grace for the weekend for chess. My daughter owes her very existence to chess, as it was at a tournament where I first met her mother. Even her name carries a slight sense of her father’s optimism, as her initials are GM (I requested that no middle name be given so she could be forever entitled). It always seems right, rudimentary even, to bring her along to tournaments, though never quite logical: if, however, logic is concerned solely with the present that is. As any sensible parent can tell you, in having children you are, quintessentially, committed to their future and its unfolding. And planning in the context of parenthood requires much more diligence and care than in chess for if you get it wrong over the board you only lose your position/game, but as a father the consequences of a poorly formed plan can be far more reaching. Circumspection is tuned more finely by parenting than chess…and so a day’s chess became the backdrop for a family outing with the calm vital between rounds impinged upon heavily by parental duties and the calm during play disrupted frequently by the need to check that all is fine with the little one.
Tragedy strikes after a solid start
Something so very, very odd happened on the way home. I fell asleep in the taxi, only awaking when we finally arrived home. I do not remember the last time that happened, it was many years ago for sure. Then, when I managed to climb the stairs, I fell asleep again for hours more even though the tv was blaring out, the lights were on full, my wife was chatting to her mum, Grace kept climbing all over me because she wanted to play, but the sleep I fell into was so deep that I could neither move nor respond. Grace even gave me a little kiss at one point when she saw I wasn’t moving but I could do nothing. When I finally awoke, I couldn’t walk properly. Somehow I had slipped into a state of chronic fatigue. Eventually I woke at 3 pm the next day. I had missed the entire second day. Unbelievable!
Nothing more than a mere caricature in a strange land?
Whilst stuck in snowy Azerbaijan, somehow I just ate, and drank, and ate, and ate, and ate and lost my appetite for chess altogether. Worse, I stopped exercising too, became untalkative and rather unhappy, suddenly 15 kgs heavier. I suspect I was still paying the price for such indulgence as on the eve of the tournament, I had to check if I was doing the right thing…what a pity that the timing was so awful. Only those who enjoy keeping fit and exercising regularly can truly understand this paragraph I think.
The saddest of all expressions… .
What is the worst expression a chess player could ever hear? It must surely be the words ‘I hate chess’. But what could cause someone to say such a thing with such venom directly to me? Only those who are forced to play chess against their wishes. I wasn’t the opponent but I did see the game unfold until both became too fed up to continue. I found it saddening to see children being forced into playing chess, they ought to choose what they do with their free time. Though my child will grow up around chess I would never force her to play or do anything she didn’t want to for that matter. Hopefully she will take an interest in it herself (Grace if you are reading this as an adult please take note) but if she doesn’t that’s fine too.
Cruel words sleep above me, mounting and teasing… .
After almost four decades of playing chess I fell asleep during a quickplay game for the first time ever…ah the joys of occasional chess!

The irrepressible Tommy, once disrupted some chess action in Luton in the early nineties, owing to his wonderful humour

The greatest vocalist and front man since the alleged big bang occurred a few years back….or whenever it was…his skin isn’t a layer of soot, I doubt whether cruel words mount above him. A man even more obscure than myself.
Posted in Personal Interest & Experience, tagged morbid tales chess on December 21, 2013| Leave a Comment »
The slow motion replay doesn’t show how fast the ball was actually travelling – Richie Benaud
In England, there’s much pub-talk about where people were when important historical events occured, such as Armstrong landing on the moon or when England won the world cup or when the great fire of London broke out, and so on, and so on. My question is where were you when McShane played 2 Nf3 against Anand’s Caro-Kann at the opening of the 5th London Chess Classic? For me…well I’d rather not say…I was helping a friend fix his washing machine but became trapped inside the bloody thing, anyway… .
At the beginning of December 2013, the London Chess Classic coincided with The Ashes down under (that’s cricket to all you saddo no-lifes out there), fans of both spent an exceptionally long weekend trying to keep up with the action. An almost improbable task given that we only had eight days for the chess and a mere five for the cricket. Like most, I had to take a week off work to recover from the excitement then several more from the tragedy of it all -well almost. Surprisingly, my request for such time off was not given the seriousness I had hoped for.
The crowd roars it’s deep and so unhealthy… .
Their gloomy beginnings left behind long ago, both chess and cricket now offer a resplendent, high-tech horizon where viewers across the globe can follow the action like never before. But looming on this horizon lies a dark foreboding menace beyond anything vocalist Mike Patton ever ingratiated his audiences with.
Purgatory and the gnashing of teeth…is our top GM going to play 1. b3 or 1. b4 today?
In search of greater revenue both chess and cricket have been forced to modernize themselves in favour of faster, sexier formats. In cricket, the patience batsmen need to build an innings has been steadily eroded by the dominance of one-day internationals and twenty-twenty, where the object of the game is to blast every ball into orbit and beyond, meaning that even world class batsmen (most of the English and some of the Aussie top order) now constantly get out to risky shots that people didn’t play with such regularity ten-twenty years ago, as we saw all too often in the third test. In chess, we now get quick-play tournaments where top Grand masters allow themselves to be checkmated having barely got out of the opening, and where ex-world champions lose in a manner which even beginners would be embarrassed by, as we saw in the London Chess Classic.
Do you feel sometimes that age is against you?
I didn’t follow-up on Kramnik’s defense of his knock-out loss, I assumed there isn’t one. Instead we can only reflect upon the pressure inflicted by such insidious time-controls, and ask ourselves if something is wrong when watching great players blunder game after game becomes synonymous with entertainment for the masses? Mistakes are part of the game at all levels but when the format of the game invites them with such certainty, something much more precious is lost.
The null of losing, can you afford that luxury?
Viewing on line for free I don’t want to sound harsh, especially when those involved did their best, but I for one would be more than willing to pay for a VPN and a choice of game with full commentary instead of what we were given…it was a shame to see the commentary team struggle with the revamped format of the fifth London Chess Classic but was it inevitable? Commentating on one quick-play game between two players, both of whom are several hundred rating points above you is hard enough, but four simultaneously is sheer folly.
The world expects a pose…perfectly natural?
Personally, I don’t like to see GMs making a mess of things. We ought to watch top-flight chess to see how things are done properly and not how they aren’t done properly. If I wanted to watch that, I could just go along to the nearest club and watch some games there.
It’s the thing you hate the most…the thing you hate almost.
Why did the London classic change its format? There are reasons, the main one being the proximity of the Vishy-Magnus match and the participants unwillingness to play classical chess so close to it. From what I understand, a change in format was the only way the tournament could be the first to parade the winner of the match. Sadly, this was not enough to persuade Magnus to join, so there was no world champion present.
“A very small crowd here today. I can count the people on one hand. Can’t be more than 30” – Michael Abrahamson
Was the revamped 5th London Chess classic a success? I have no idea. Given the caliber of the competitors, the play was poor I thought, the commentary even worse and when Vlad played that ridiculous move against Boris in the semis it was the final straw, at which point I turned all my attention to the cricket instead…unfortunately England were in pretty bad shape by then too.
Does life seem worthwhile to you?
The weekend was over. It was not yet winter but bitterly cold and barely light as I walked across Baku to work, my hands numbed by the morning sleet that fell upon its backstreets leading into the city. With many kilometres ahead I walked slowly, not yet awake but pensive. By then England were close to losing The Ashes and Nakamura had won in London, I was dressed in black accordingly. Just before I reached the government buildings ungainly edged onto the city centre, shivering, I thought to myself ‘sometimes life is just shit‘… .
It was not yet 8.30 when I arrived at work. The office empty, I reclined in my chair. The heating was on high, I drank some hot chocolate undisturbed. Asleep again as my colleagues arrived, I awoke covered in snot, dreamt I’d swallowed my teeth and tried to cough them up…such lyrics and more came from my MP3 player, which I had forgotten to switch off.
Except for boiled potatoes and broccoli, only death is real.
It was a forgettable morning with little to do in the office. The final session in the cricket I dursn’t follow, the chess I just forgot about. The sleet had stopped but a low cloud stayed til lunch, when I ate the portion of boiled potatoes and broccoli given to me. I drifted into thoughts about England as I cut my food with my fork; the cricket, the chess, the inclement weather all reminding me of London strangely. But then my supervisor interrupted, standing at silly point he asked me to complete a report after I had finished. I took an afternoon nap first.
Someone taps me on the shoulder every five minutes, nobody speaks English anymore.
Nap over, bell stopped ringing, corridors all empty now. No one stood at urinals pissing nor in front of mirrors examining their tongues. Where were the students?
I spoke to no one that afternoon and left the office early to the winter park where the subway system beneath was warm and provided shelter. Nearer home, the backstreets were empty of the city traffic and muddy from the morning sleet still. An elder colleague once swore that in Soviet days Baku was a clean and orderly city but after the war, when the Soviets left, people from the country came into the city in their thousands and turned the place into a complete mess. I didn’t doubt it. I was barely 200 meters from the city centre yet the street I took home, named after the satirist Jalil Mammadguluzade, had an entire row of makeshift housing built on the road itself where it widened – most unwise considering that driving licenses are usually bought rather than gained via the proper channels but not unexpected. On the corner nearest, people stood selling bread every morning, hours before it was light even. A little further up I once saw chickens run freely across the road where washing hung between the trees, blocking off what little pavement there was. Nearby, groups of bored teens sitting by open fires on broken furniture left in the street offered to wash cars for a pittance except today, today of course, it was too cold. I saw only one other on the street, an elderly woman carrying a large jar of pickled watermelon in both hands. She had a row of gold teeth behind the grimace on her face…had she watched the cricket too I asked myself? I walked on as fast as I could, it would not be long before I was home and warm again.
Drought makes the workers dream.
The water was off yet again when I arrived. What was I to do tonight I asked myself? Sit staring at the computer screen again? I wanted to get drunk to forget about Baku, to forget about everything. Chess was a motivating factor in coming to Azerbaijan…curse that bloody board game I told myself. On the few times I found people playing, everyone looked so depressed and miserable I dursn’t say anything to anyone, fearing that their misery may be contagious. The fridge was always stocked with beer because I didn’t want a daily encounter with the peasant in the kiosk closest and his tiresome attempts to shortchange me. I drank Czech beer only, certainly none of that local rubbish. The fridge was the only modern item in my apartment. I trusted it, it was switched on to my needs. The first beer sank as I sat in my bed listening to the radio in the dark. I had no bed in the conventional sense of the word, only a mattress on the floor, an over-sized pillow and an old cardboard box as a head rest. I didn’t mind sleeping like that, somehow it seemed appropriate given the state of the building. It was a Stalinka -that being a generic term for anything built whilst Stalin was in power- and had seen better days. I wondered if I would ever return to Azerbaijan and its grotty little capital Baku -a city stricken by decades of Communism still. It would mean yet more time away from my daughter…her funny little laugh and her little smiles I had missed for too long now. I thought about the day I would see her again and wondered if she would still recognize her father. Every time a beer was empty I looked out of the window by the fridge when I got another. There was nothing to see other than the same parked cars and the same row of street lamps becoming fainter in the gloom. I don’t know why I always did that…but then I was unable to stop myself…perhaps it was disbelief. With each day passing as part of one long count, another empty evening lay ahead, soon it would be tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow… .
All behold the spectacle of fleshy, limbless rectangles… .

The author in contemplation, wearing that which he walks to work in. On the left cuff of his Celtic Frost hoodie lies the inscription:
‘Only Death Is Real…’.
Posted in Personal Interest & Experience, tagged Kubrik and chess on October 28, 2013| Leave a Comment »
The communication of the dead is tongued with fire beyond the language of the living.
T.S.Elliot
After watching the documentary Room 237 recently, I felt compelled to delve further into Kubrik’s The Shining. Admittedly, its a film that I’ve never liked, having always found its intensity discomforting. However, in search of greater understanding, I also found an in-depth interview. It’s a wonderful piece of journalism, with Kubrik offering us great insight into who he is and how he works. To my surprise, chess gets more than a mention towards the end of the interview. Kubrik not only makes an interesting analogy between chess and film-making but also tells us how chess can help curb poorly made decisions away from the board. I’ve cut and paste the relevant sections and linked to the interview as well:
You [referring to Mr.Kubrik] are a chess-player and I wonder if chess-playing and its logic have parallels with what you are saying?
First of all, even the greatest International Grandmasters, however deeply they analyse a position, can seldom see to the end of the game. So their decision about each move is partly based on intuition. I was a pretty good chess-player but, of course, not in that class. Before I had anything better to do (making movies) I played in chess tournaments at the Marshall and Manhattan Chess Clubs in New York, and for money in parks and elsewhere. Among a great many other things that chess teaches you is to control the initial excitement you feel when you see something that looks good. It trains you to think before grabbing, and to think just as objectively when you’re in trouble. When you’re making a film you have to make most of your decisions on the run, and there is a tendency to always shoot from the hip. It takes more discipline than you might imagine to think, even for thirty seconds, in the noisy, confusing, high-pressure atmosphere of a film set. But a few seconds’ thought can often prevent a serious mistake being made about something that looks good at first glance. With respect to films, chess is more useful [in] preventing you from making mistakes than giving you ideas. Ideas come spontaneously and the discipline required to evaluate and put them to use tends to be the real work.
Did you play chess on the set of The Shining as you did on Dr. Strangelove (with George C. Scott) and on 2001?
I played a few games with Tony Burton, one of the actors in the film. He’s a very good chess-player. It was very near the end of the picture and things had gotten to a fairly simple stage. I played quite a lot with George C. Scott during the making of Dr. Strangelove. George is a good player, too, but if I recall correctly he didn’t win many games from me. This gave me a certain edge with him on everything else. If you fancy yourself as a good chess-player, you have an inordinate respect for people who can beat you.
http://www.visual-memory.co.uk/amk/doc/interview.ts.html
Poetry may make us from time to time a little more aware of the deeper, unnamed feelings which form the substratum of our being, to which we rarely penetrate; for our lives are mostly a constant evasion of ourselves.
T.S.Elliot
MJM
Posted in Bedfordshire Chess, History of Bedfordshire Chess, My own warped humour, Personal Interest & Experience, tagged bedfordshire, chess on January 11, 2013| 17 Comments »
The Bedfordshire League was where I began playing competitive chess, my first rated game being February 11th 1988 whilst in my last year at school. For those who don’t know, Bedfordshire is the smallest of the home counties in south-east England; it is mostly flat farmland with a few main roads connecting its villages and towns. Conversely, our chess league was also small, rarely going beyond two divisions but bolstered in strength by the addition of Milton Keynes/Open University, Northampton and briefly Rushden, all of whom sought a stronger league to play in than their own. Their addition added greater rivalry within the league without causing any real harm, helping the county teams achieve unprecedented levels of success during the 90’s.
League chess in Beds was always an evening affair, with games starting around 7.30-8pm. Journeys for away games offered short drives, often with little of interest to see and an uninspiring venue at the end. Some clubs were notoriously difficult to find enabling them to pick up points by default occasionally; Cranfield, for example, could only be accessed by narrow country lanes with few signposts, finding it in the dark was very tough indeed; Milton Keynes won the league many times, not because they had the strongest team, but because navigating your way through that city is actually much tougher than chess itself, meaning that most visiting players were usually both late and mentally exhausted upon arrival.
Bedfordshire had a small but strong league, and in many respects, it was no different to many others around the country. I played in nine consecutive seasons, and what little incident there was, is well remembered to this day. I thought I would reflect upon some fonder memories and the distinct lack of impact they had.
1 Sheepdog mauls chess computer
In late November 89 on a dark and rainy day, I drove with playing partner Damon D’ Cruz to March, Norfolk, in search of a Novag chess computer which he wanted to purchase. Not long after, the expensive machine became an object of affection for the family sheepdog Sam, who mauled it one evening. The pieces had all been heavily chewed, some beyond recognition. It was funny to see a chewed chess set with teeth marks and chunks taken out of them. It was as if they had suffered defeat even before the game had begun. The ill-fated machine was then ‘borrowed’ but never returned by another club member some years later.
2 Rogue milk bottle angers A-Team players
A milk bottle escaped from a bag of shopping in the Luton A-team captain’s car once and, unbeknownst to him (Damon D’ Cruz), hid itself under the driver’s seat. Some weeks later a stench arose. In a match to Milton Keynes, team members (especially Andy Perkins) complained incessantly and asked for windows to be left open. It was finally discovered after the smell became unbearable.
3 Player gets beaten up in the snow
Ah, the legacy of the seventies, you can’t knock it. We had a player at our club, I won’t say his name because that’s not fair, we’ll use his initials MD instead. I liked him even though many did not. Whilst playing for Vauxhall, when Luton was ‘able to operate its own league’, he brought his electric guitar to the chess club to play some heavy metal one winter evening. Unfortunately this didn’t go down too well and a fight soon broke out featuring Dave Considine. My friend Michael Joseph informs me that it carried on out into the snow. MD slipped and got punched in the jaw, after some rolling around they both returned to play some chess, without an encore!
4 Scotsman chases football hooligans down the road!
Jim Jeffries, a Scotsman who used to play at Luton Chess Club when it was based in Bury Park near the football ground, was a no nonsense player. According to Nick McBride on one occasion some football supporters saw chess being played in the club whilst walking to the ground to watch a match, and banged on the windows with some amusement. Jim got out of his seat, ran out the club and chased them down the road!
5 Suicidal newbie almost causes punch up at AGM
There was a player who joined the Open University named Gerrard Ashby. He was rated around 200 and a thoroughly unpleasant man. The league AGM was usually held at our club, which was where the then president Ken Liddle played. Ashby came along once and called the president a wanker during the AGM. Ken quickly stood up and asked him to step outside. The offer was declined but it set the tone for the meeting which was full of arguments. I only saw Mr.Ashby once after that, he was sporting a horrendous black eye for yet more foul language. Not long after that he killed himself.
6 Engine blows up after stunning county victory
Bedfordshire first made a name for itself nationally when the second team beat Warwickshire in the Minor Counties Final at Aston University in July 91. I was sub that day and didn’t play, as we strengthened the team with a host of 180s. The journey back was memorable for all the wrong reasons. I traveled up in Olly’s light blue Skoda, back in the day when Skoda’s were cheap and nasty. After the match, we had real difficulty getting out of the car park and then got completely lost in Birmingham. Once on the motorway things went more smoothly until the engine blew up and filled the car with black smoke. The windows were quickly opened as we rolled to stop on the junction just before Milton Keynes. No real damage done except to the engine, which had a big hole in it. We were picked up by the side of the motorway and taken home by the driver’s father.
7 Open-top bus blasts out music during play
Towards the end of the season 93-94 we played Norfolk in the King Edward VIII hall, Newmarket. It was a sunny afternoon and all the venue windows were open where we played, overlooking the main road on the first floor. Well into our match with Norfolk a carnival suddenly rolled into town. An open-topped bus stopped outside the hall, giving a live radio dj a direct view of our match, which he began reporting on the radio with great amusement. A brass band then began playing, accompanied by a group of female dancers, also looking into our venue with amusement as the window frames vibrated from the deafening base. This went on for far too long, causing many of the older players to get out of their chair and walk off into the tea room in disgust.
8 Raj loses in four moves!
One of the Luton players once started drinking cans of Guinness on the way to a match. He wasn’t bad, about 160, but lost in four moves due to drunkenness at the board. If memory serves me correctly he left a bishop en prise and resigned.
9 Offensive t-shirt results in life-time ban
A totally ridiculous incident occurred one summer afternoon in Luton when a new member got himself banned for life over his T-shirt. The manager of the social club we played in objected to the message on the back of the shirt, which was obscene. It was suggested, politely, that he should turn the shirt inside out, as it was a family club and would cause offence. Some people, however, are incapable of accepting criticism. Rather than do as asked, a crazy half hour arose with the new member repeatedly storming in and out of the building, asking why it was a problem and confronting club officials. At one point he stormed up to the club president looking like he was about to hit him and called him a c**t, resulting in a ban from the social club for life. Fortunately, he had arrived early and most members did not witness the incident. The person in question was aptly named Steven King. I will never forget him for the aforementioned incident and the fact that all his post-game analysis involved the word hassle, ‘He was hassling my rook, so I hassled his king’, and so on…he was about as bad as it got over the board.
10 Player thrown through windscreen during chess club car crash
I’ve talked about it before and I didn’t witness it. It happened in the 80s. Ivan Mitchell’s name for the victim was piss-head Pat, a man I did meet a few times, and whom the author can confirm, lived up to his name. Once, after leaving the chess club, the taxi he took crashed, throwing him through the windscreen into a bush. Pat had no recollection of the event, it was the police who informed him the next day. It sounds apocryphal but was confirmed by several other members.
11 Game lost due to call of nature
One of our more recent players (again he shall remain unnamed) had the ability to cause mild controversy every time he came to the club. He is, unfortunately, one of those people who can’t control themselves and speaks too loudly all the time. Much of what he says confuses those who know him, let alone visiting team members. I always remember him repeatedly asking average club players if they could show him how to beat Karpov!! One evening during a blitz tournament he lost a game (not too uncommon) and tried to stop the clock because he needed to go to the toilet. He then tried to cancel the game because he was unable to concentrate due to the call of nature. He was deadly serious about it. An hour must have passed before we heard the end of it. The following week, he was still unable to stop talking about it. When his opponent from the previous week turned up, he demanded justice: a best of three, which then went to a best of five, and then a best of seven. Sadly he wouldn’t listen to the advice of others, that trying to win on time in blitz by playing entirely random moves isn’t an effective strategy.
12 Loudmouth American gets thrashed by junior
There is an American military base in Bedfordshire. Once in a while we would get personnel from it coming to the club. One evening an over-sized soldier came with a smart case containing numerous neatly packed sets and clocks. He talked a great game and initially refused point blank to play our best junior, who would indicate to us just how good he was. I remember watching events unfold with interest. Within the hour the American packed up all his equipment and promptly left. He lost 6 games in quick succession and never returned. Typical yank, I thought.
13 Dubious tea urn causes speedy exit from makeshift cafe during county match
In truth this happened a number of times as county matches tend to seek the same venue. When Bedfordshire first started using the Turner Hall in Newmarket, it had a tea urn that had a problem with its thermostat and teetered on the edge of explosion at times. And what in chess could be worse than traveling across flat countryside, playing out a dull draw in quiet country town, wandering off for a quick cuppa in the endgame, being badly scalded by an exploding tea urn, and then unable to secure the draw! Nothing right? The one occasion I remember this happening was during a casual chat amongst team members, suddenly interrupted by a violent rattling of the tea urn with boiling water spilling over the top, custard creams were laid aside in favour of a hasty exit.
14 Drunken playing session and heavy cigars lead to urinating up walls and puke going everywhere
Another late night session, this time in the Summer of 93 took place at my friends detached house on the town’s most expensive road, involving Ivan Mitchell. Much alcohol was consumed and a box of heavy cigars came out. At the end of the evening, a drunk Ivan decided not to water the flowers but to water the walls twice, finishing the evening off by puking everywhere in the host’s car whilst being driven home. Nice!
15 Relative newcomers encounter air bombs
Once in November 92, several matches were being held at Luton chess club, one of which involved Milton Keynes C team. From memory, Milton Keynes had many new players in their team that season. The week before I had agreed with the team captain to let air bombs off in the car park close to the playing hall to see if I could unsettle the opposition, as he knew I had a love of fireworks and had previously suggested it for a laugh. This then happened and a number of heads went up and started looking around to see what was going on a friend told me. During a quick couple of pints in the bar afterwards, no one mentioned the air bombs before setting off in the dark. Alas, a couple of loud bangs weren’t enough to unsettle our opponents, making it the only occasion where such measures were employed.
16 Embarrassing incident over the board
There was a gentleman who played for Leighton Buzzard whose name I forget, he was always rated around 150 (1900) in strength, in his late 50’s, grey-haired, always wore a suit and was very polite, I believe he mentioned once that he worked in the city. The first time I played him was in the very early nineties when Leighton Buzzard had those hideous boards with yellow and black squares, and pieces that were slightly too large to fit on them, and as if that wasn’t bad enough, we had to play in some school on the other side of town, or Linslade as its also known. I’ll never forget the incident during the early middle-game where my impeccably mannered opponent accidentally belched and farted simultaneously with such force that everyone in the room must have heard it. He was quite embarrassed and sincerely apologetic even though, out of courtesy, no one acknowledged what happened….I found it funny.
17 Stand off between karate club and chess club emerges over doors not being closed properly
This happened in 85/86, so I didn’t witness it but was told about it several times. The first venue I played in was a horrible church hall which we shared with a karate club, and had to cross through their hall to get to our equipment. I noticed that there were still signs on all the doors asking you to close them some two years on. Sometimes there were even instructions how to do this. The reason being that many doors slammed loudly and upset the more sensitive karate club members. Once, during a league match, a member from the karate club entered our room, slammed the door as loudly as he could three times and shouted ‘THERE, SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT’. Unsurprisingly, no one got out of their seat and confronted him.
18 From Gambit Publication gets author’s head smashed open
On March 6th 1993. I got a lift into London to buy a book on the From Gambit in Foyle’s. Unfortunately I hadn’t slept much the night before, and whilst ascending an escalator, stretched my back over the rail out of tiredness. I didn’t see the metal and glass display cabinet further up, wrecking it beyond repair with my head by accident. There was quite a lot of blood, out of disorientation and fatigue I then left the book behind on the tube.
19 Acts of violence deny school champion a regular playing partner
I cannot write about my experience of chess at school without mentioning my old friend Jalil who provided stern opposition, enabling me to gain valuable practice as I began playing for my home town. I befriended him instantly when he joined our school as he spoke no English, and when he saw me go up on stage to collect my trophies for winning the school championship and league, he wanted to play at every opportunity. Fortunately we had both been kicked out of almost every class in school already, thus had plenty of opportunity. Sadly, Jalil got himself expelled. He came from a family of martial artists and was a black belt in Karate at 15, he was also very hot tempered. A series of events occurred which finally gained him expulsion. First, he threw a typewriter at another pupil’s head, then in English (we called this class Cards, as everyone played blackjack at the back of class instead of study) the day after Luton won the league cup, a riot occurred in our class, during which he ripped the legs off a table and started whacking another boy round the back and the head with them, then finally he got expelled for beating the games teacher up. Some years later I met up with Jalil again, and true to form we played some chess (this time in his Kebab shop). I was already a county player by then, and he was a 2nd dan in a number of martial arts. He wasn’t a bad chess player and helped me use my time in school more effectively.
20 Under real pressure, the author performed at his very best.
I am not and never will be a great chess player due to a distinct lack of talent, and an inability to retain concentration sufficiently. However, this doesn’t mean that there are moments of which I am not proud. When I assumed the role of B Team Captain, my first task was to stave off relegation. It came down to the last game of the season, at home to Leighton Buzzard B, and more importantly my game. Though my opponent was some 200 FIDE points above me, I was so fired up that he was blown out of the water within 25 moves. I kept my team up, something I remained very proud of for a long time. Whilst playing for our A-team a few years later, I also saved it from relegation by winning the final game of the season’s final match, against Bedford A. It’s true that beating someone with a FIDE rating of around 2000 is nothing exceptional but it was the manner in which it occurred. I played with immense passion.
21 County player takes corners faster than Mansell!
It’s MD again, this time with myself in the back of a car that is running late for a county match against Norfolk, held in the equidistant Newmarket. Mr. Mirza, our driver, decided that we wouldn’t be late and started driving like Mansell, we swerved through some bends on the outskirts of the town so fast that we crossed into an oncoming lane and could have caused a serious accident. MD, who had suffered a nervous breakdown in his youth was a fragile character. He became panicked by the excessive speed, and held onto a handgrip tightly. I remember this because I had to inure hours of monotone analysis, suddenly cut short after he was thrown across the backseat whilst entering a sharp dipping bend, prompting a nervy fixation of the road ahead. It was one of those rare occasions where apparent danger came as a godsend.
22 Player pranked by late night playing session
Poor old Roman, sadly no longer with us. I will be forever indebted to his kindness when, as a junior, he showed me how to play the c3 Sicilian. So it is with a little sadness that I remember a late night session between him, my friend Damon and myself in late 89. He went to bed just before midnight but we kept playing until beyond 4 am. It was a slow Sunday morning in late Autumn, Roman awoke at 8am, and being a guest he could have taken offence at having to wait until 4pm before my friend and I finally awoke and went downstairs. Being a gentleman however, he did not and was even able to greet us with a smile.
23 Crafty pensioner retracts move during game.
In the Summer of 93 I was playing in our club quickplay championship and got up to go to the bar. Looking at my position from afar, I saw my opponent play his move. Upon a second glance some minutes later I also saw him retract the move and play something else. I didn’t mind at all because I was clearly ahead and he was one of the weaker club players. I went on to win and said nothing about it. If anything, I found it quite amusing.
24 Super GM downs one of Bedfordshire’s finest.
IM Andy Ledger. I first saw him in action at the Hitchin Open in 89, where he came up against a certain Michael Adams. Andy was way ahead in material, a knight if memory serves me correctly but was under pressure both on the board and on the clock. I remember how it had welled up in his face, knowing that with calm play he would surely beat GM Adams. Sadly for us, a clever tactic ending in a back rank mate put paid to Andy’s efforts.
25 Duff joke fails to amuse team members.
In late September 89, a friendly match between Luton and Hitchin was arranged. Most A-team members went in the same car, finding the venue with ease. Upon entering, Mr D’Cruz mentioned that he could no longer wear one of his T-shirts as it had turned pink courtesy of being washed with an unknown red garment. I quipped that he should wash it with something white in order to restore its colour, which er, didn’t go down so well.
26 Atonal renditions of arcane Nirvana tracks irritates opponent during blitz game.
Like just about everyone else on the planet, I fell in love with Nirvana when they made it into the big time. Many of Bleach’s later tracks became nice little numbers to sing and hum along to during blitz. Upon reproducing the line ‘Don’t have nothing for you’ in the track Sifting, my polite opponent promptly retorted with annoyance that he didn’t want anything thanks, perhaps referring to the position rather than the track… it made me chuckle anyway.
27 Nutter causes incident in library
There was a nutter in town for a few years who was a bit of a chess fan I believe. He was of African appearance, wore dark glasses and was walked around town in a step-by-step manner, like a slow motion military march or something. He was once spotted trying to rub the top of his head on a leaf of a tree, with a bishop placed horizontally between his nose and mouth. On another occasion I saw him with a bishop inside his mouth, the base protruding outwards. He entered the library in the town center once, spent about two minutes walking up the stairs and then stood directly behind someone reading a book. When the reader turned round to see what was going on, our local nutter kicked him in the shin hard, though not too hard. Given that he wore dark glasses and was twice the size of the man he kicked, this was obviously very intimidating, and I don’t believe I have ever seen someone’s face go red so fast. Nothing happened for a few seconds, the nutter just stood there without moving before continuing to walk around the library in his own distinctive way. The assaulted, now looking very confused, made a hasty exit.
28 Author becomes saddened after learning that a playing partner is to move to Wales.
My first two playing partners when I joined Luton were Peter Whone, and his friend Richard. It took me 6 weeks to beat Peter. Even though it happened 27 years ago, I still remember the game. A few months after that, his friend Richard, who I had also managed to beat by then, mentioned that he was moving to Wales, and said he had only come to say goodbye. I was not yet 16 and felt a raw sadness from his farewell. I cannot be sure that I managed to stop myself from crying though I think that’s how it went. In the early nineties, Richard returned to pay us a visit, it was lovely to see him again. I spotted him the second he came through the door.
29 Changes in league structures causes objections by Bedford players
Chess had a bit of a boom after the Short-Kasparov match in 1993. Our club suddenly had 62 members, and other clubs had swelled in size. The league went to 4 divisions and Luton had 9 teams, the last being Luton I. This caused an imbalance in division 4 which consisted of nothing but teams from Luton and one team from Bedford. At the end of the season an objection was raised by Bedford that they spent half the season playing in Luton. Not everyone saw this as an objection.
30 The author is nearly knocked off his bicycle en route to the chess club and killed!
When I was 17 I couldn’t stop listening to thrash metal. Even when I cycled, I had it on the walkman and often warmed up for a chess match by listening to it. This had disastrous consequences once as I was cycling en route to my chess club and didn’t hear a car behind me. It hit me quite hard and knocked me off my bike. I managed to wheel it the rest of the way there and explained what had happened. This was a critical mistake as many members were too absorbed in their games to listen.
31 Unpopular player throws birthday party…it goes as expected
Bob Harnett was an odd fellow. A deeply unhappy soul who on his day could and did beat the odd GM here and there. He once had a birthday party and invited a number of players from the various chess clubs he played at. He could have held it in a telephone box as only 4 people turned up, and two of those only went out of sympathy. I think a few cheap cans of lager were drunk whilst the tv was on and there were a few blitz games, that was about it.
32 Late night blitz with adult entertainment thrown in!
I shan’t be pointing the finger here or naming names but if you know which club I played for you can probably take a guess, especially if you look at the point placed directly above this. Anyway in 1991, after the chess club evening had ended, a few of us who hung out carried on affairs into the wee hours at the home of whoever was most accomodating that evening. Usually this involved blitz as part of some ad hoc tournament, accompanied by blue movies put on the big screen behind the games in progress. I was still a teenager back then and hadn’t even had my first girlfriend, and so only took amusement in it more than anything else. Even with the sound up just enough to hear, I seem to recall enjoying reading the subtitles more than watching them. I also recall, him mentioned directly above once saying ‘Oh look, she’s trying to act!’ once. In defence of my former playing partners, and myself, I never quite got it. No one seemed that interested and made little or no effort to watch them -it was just a bit of background entertainment or something. Still in my teens, I was too young for such stuff and rarely if ever paid attention -it seemed like a distraction I once thought. However, I should point out I cannot recall the amount of times this happened…dozens at least I’d say.
33 Coffee requires diplomacy
In the early 00’s a visit to the Luton Chess Club was followed by a drive into the town centre by a few and some late night food. We went into a kebab style place on Chapel Street and had food & drinks and some late night chit-chat. I don’t quite know why but I ordered an Irish Coffee and barely touched it. Damon D’ Cruz was unaware of this, and after finishing his food asked if he could finish my coffee, seeing I was not drinking it. ‘Of course’ I said, but kept shtum over what kind of coffee it was. The look on his face was priceless. The gulp he took knocked him back, he then returned the cup to the table posthaste. Instead of firing expletives at me, he said unimpressed, ‘I think someone’s put something in that’. It was hard not to laugh at him caught off guard like that. No harm done though.
34. Paganism appears
Shoud you wish to trawl through the S.C.C.U Bulletins throughout the 70s and 80s, you will find a certain J. Killminster playing for Bedfordshire, many, many times. He also played for my home town Luton, so I have been informed. Members who played alongside him, and me for that matter, namely Damon D’ Cruz and Peter Montgomery, both confirmed independently of each other that John, used to go dancing naked in the woods in Clophill. Of course I had to ask what that was all about and asked Damon whether that pertained to paganism or something. He said yes, in fact it was a group thing, there were often women and alcohol involved! ‘Each to his own’ Damon then said. How does this function as a fond memory? Because I was first told about it during friendlies at Kents Athletic Club before we were turfed out of it…‘Each to their own’.
That is about eventful is it got. Chess is generally a serene affair with little of note, there is nothing else I can think of that is noteworthy. In future blogs I will attempt to write about the mundane, which believe it or not, is usually of greater interest. Until then… .
M J M