Lately I’ve been seeing chess autobiographies, namely
chessboozer and
Tim Krabbe (or in the
zip archive), so I’ll take my turn at it.
My dad taught me the moves when I was about ten years old. Then he proceeded to win game after game until the tears in my eyes obscured my view of the board. A few years later, I joined the chess club in sixth grade and played first board for my team at state. I think my success at the scholastic level was attributable to the fact that I was very cautious. I also played in the individual Oregon State Championship and finished tied for second among sixth graders. In seventh grade, I lost badly at regionals in one of the few games I remember from that era. I played black in 1.e4 e5 2.Qh5 g6? 3.Qxe5+ followed by 4.Qxh8 and quickly went down to defeat. Also in seventh grade, I discovered computers and that scholastic chess players really didn’t have a chance against them, so I gave up the game for a while. In ninth grade, there was a chess club, but we really only had one tournament in which I lost to the eventual winner.
There was a long hiatus until junior year in college when my buddy and I decided to have a one-move-a-day game. I went to a bookstore and discovered they have books to help you improve your chess. My first book was
MCO-12 edited by Walter Korn. From then on, I was hooked on chess and chess books. I studied the books and soon my friends no longer were within my league. Still, I remember a 1500-rated tournament chess player coming over to play me. He was bored between moves while I analyzed simple counting procedures (I take him, he takes me, I take him, he takes me). Simple exchanges of two pieces on each side took forever for me to count. I think this didn’t improve until a couple years later when I began to play blitz.
A year after I bought that first chess book, in January 1991, I played my first tournament chess in the Chicagoland Chess & Games club. I lost my very first game to a 1500 player but went on to win the next three games against 1100, 1488, and 1617 and I took the third place trophy for that small tournament. My first rating was 1641. After dipping down into 1549, my rating steadily climbed until by April 1993, it was 1832. (Not coincidentally, I almost failed out of school that year). My motto then was “2000 by the year 2000”.
My most fun tournament was the 1991 Evanston Fall Open, when I was rated at my nadir of 1549. In a 5-round swiss, I beat a 1711, beat a 1900, drew a 1954, beat a 2235, and lost to a 2147. Afterwards, I learned that the 2235 was really just a TD-assigned rating for an unknown, unrated, foreign player. He eventually was rated about 2000, but even with that correction, my performance rating was still 2100.
One of my best tournaments was the
1993 Illinois Open after I had just broken into Class A with a rating of 1832. I beat 2152-rated Erik Karklins, and then I beat 2227-rated Kevin Bachler. In round 3, I made it to a drawn queen ending against 2403-rated Andrew Karklins (Erik's son), but blew my draw right after time control. My first three rounds’ games are contained in the ChessBase 2003 Big Database. I finished by losing to a 2137 and then beating a 2045 for my highest performance rating in a swiss of 2273.
One of my luckiest tournaments was the
1994 Mid-America Class Championships. Against my fellow Class A’s, I went D-W-D-W-W for a performance rating of 2154. The final round is a
story unto itself which I plan to tell soon. My score of 4.0/5 was good enough for 3rd-6th place in the 60-player section and won $150 which was my biggest chess payday until 2004.
In the
1998 Gresham Open, I started with a pre-tournament rating of 1986. I beat a 1326 and then a 2316, which remains my biggest scalp to date. I should have withdrawn right then because I proceeded to lose the last three games (castle long) to a 2230, a 1584, and a 1599. But it would have been hard to withdraw with 2.0/2. Transiently, my rating was over 2000, so I count that as having reached my goal of “2000 by the year 2000”. More career and family changes and suddenly, I had been a Class A player for a dozen years, 1993-2004.
In the spring of 2004, I played in the
Far West Open. In round 3, I won my
Two Towers game against a fellow club member, but I went on to castle long again in the final three rounds. The tournament organizer asked me to put together the
games bulletin which I duly did, putting far too much work into it, but also learning a few things in the process. I’d like to say that the bulletin work allowed master level chess to seep into my subconscious and affect my game in ways that I didn’t understand. From June 24, 2004 until February 13, 2005, I went on a 40-game no-loss streak, winning 29 and drawing 11 against competition with a rating range of 750 to 2204 with an average rating of 1696.
In the fall of 2004, I tied with one other player for first atop the 77-player Class A section of the
Western States Open. I had five wins and one draw, beating both #1 and #2 on the rating chart with black. I took the 1st place trophy on tiebreaks and won $1,087.50.
That was the pinnacle of my chess career. The USCF assigned a floor that prevents my rating from going below 2000. I have mixed feelings about the floor. It is true that I deserved the floor based upon the USCF rules as written back in 2004. Since that time, they have changed it so that winning $2,000 is now the trigger for a rating floor that protects other players from you sandbagging into too much chess money. The floor takes away quite a bit of rating risk. But without the danger and the hunger, perhaps some edge has left my game. Is reward without risk really a reward?
The past three years have been about trying to find my footing among experts. You may envy my rating starts with a ‘2’, but I am here to say it’s no picnic. People at this level are really hard to beat. It’s gotten so that I have been in some bad slumps lately. In
“Searching For Bobby Fischer”, Josh Waitzkin’s mother and father argued about Josh being caught in a vicious cycle of a slump that caused fear that in turn caused more losses. I have been AFRAID that I’ve already reached my peak and all I’ve got to look forward to is the slow decline of age. I have been afraid that those young kids and up-and-comers with their low ratings will humiliate me. For Class players, playing an Expert might have an “intimidation power”, but in the end, being beaten by an Expert is no big deal. From where I’m standing, the Class player’s rating has “upset power”. Josh Waitzkin’s character said, “If I win, they’ll say ‘Well of course he won. He’s the top ranked player.’ But if I lose…”
I both envy and admire the lower rated players. I envy them because they must really have an unabashed love of the game that goes beyond the ego of high ratings. I also envy the chances they have of upsetting higher rated players like I used to in my Class C days. I admire them when they demonstrate the fortitude to soldier on through the continual beatings in the hope that they’re actually learning something and getting better. I hope it doesn’t sound condescending, but I want to say to them, “Sail on, dreamers. We all need a little unfounded hope sometimes to pull ourselves up by our bootstraps.”