The Tactics Of Mistake (Redux)
Recently, I took up playing chess again. A very very long time ago, I used to spend my time doing a lot more other stuff besides studying. Some teachers thought that I spent more time running, debating, playing chess, playing rugby, playing the fool, loafing in the canteen or in the library than I ever did in class. They were probably right.
The last competitive match I ever played was in 1985, I think. Since then, chess has changed a lot; increases in processing power have allowed chess programs to teach us a lot about what a safe position really is. Modern games now look more like extreme sports events, with players hanging on for dear life in unbalanced positions.
So I decided to lurk around for a while at the 1200 level of the pond and play a bit. The experiment began about a month ago, and I've played 45 games since then, and am now around the 1800 level or so. 3 still in progress; 41 won, 1 drawn. It's not that I'm good. I've been analysing my games and I know I made serious mistakes in 6 of them and fatal mistakes in 3.
But most important to me is that I still have the same philosophy of play that I have always had, something that is a part-distillate of what my father and grandfather taught me over the board. My grandfather introduced me to chess and his chess library. We had many great moments over his beautiful (and alas, now seriously old and somewhat damaged) wooden Staunton set and board.
It's all about development, positioning, flexibility; it's about time, space, material and movement. It teaches you a lot. But oddly enough, it's also about personal style and temperament. At deeper levels of analysis, not everything is objective. TIme and time again, commentators have said things like, "Black is objectively better," while noting that over-the-board chances favour the other player given the subjective nature of both players, the environment, the time factor and the kind of position.
This short post is just to remind myself and point out to some people that I have always been very open on this blog about my ideas, philosophy, and strategic approach to life. It breeds measurable consistency, whether on the chessboard or in any other game environment. By that, I specifically mean that you can look at what I've said about my approach and see if that is indeed the way I do things.
Which finally brings us to the tactics of mistake, which I first blogged about more than two years ago. Apparently, some people never listen to what I say. If they had, they'd know what kind of response to expect from me in a strategic environment.
Looking at my 45 games, I realise it's all about the practical execution of the tactics of mistake. Play a stable game, be creative, absorb pressure, invite error, provoke mistakes, and deploy the reserve energy of the position to win in the long run. In a large proportion of the games, I realise that the winning move was not objectively a winner. It was instead a provocative move that sowed doubt, created opportunity for mistake, or invited an ill-considered attack. Quite often, it didn't look particularly wild or provocative, but just acted that way.
In at least two cases, the move played was objectively a loser (or at least, something which would lower the chances of winning a lot). But those moves led to rapid wins. Life is funny, and often downright amusing.
The last competitive match I ever played was in 1985, I think. Since then, chess has changed a lot; increases in processing power have allowed chess programs to teach us a lot about what a safe position really is. Modern games now look more like extreme sports events, with players hanging on for dear life in unbalanced positions.
So I decided to lurk around for a while at the 1200 level of the pond and play a bit. The experiment began about a month ago, and I've played 45 games since then, and am now around the 1800 level or so. 3 still in progress; 41 won, 1 drawn. It's not that I'm good. I've been analysing my games and I know I made serious mistakes in 6 of them and fatal mistakes in 3.
But most important to me is that I still have the same philosophy of play that I have always had, something that is a part-distillate of what my father and grandfather taught me over the board. My grandfather introduced me to chess and his chess library. We had many great moments over his beautiful (and alas, now seriously old and somewhat damaged) wooden Staunton set and board.
It's all about development, positioning, flexibility; it's about time, space, material and movement. It teaches you a lot. But oddly enough, it's also about personal style and temperament. At deeper levels of analysis, not everything is objective. TIme and time again, commentators have said things like, "Black is objectively better," while noting that over-the-board chances favour the other player given the subjective nature of both players, the environment, the time factor and the kind of position.
This short post is just to remind myself and point out to some people that I have always been very open on this blog about my ideas, philosophy, and strategic approach to life. It breeds measurable consistency, whether on the chessboard or in any other game environment. By that, I specifically mean that you can look at what I've said about my approach and see if that is indeed the way I do things.
Which finally brings us to the tactics of mistake, which I first blogged about more than two years ago. Apparently, some people never listen to what I say. If they had, they'd know what kind of response to expect from me in a strategic environment.
Looking at my 45 games, I realise it's all about the practical execution of the tactics of mistake. Play a stable game, be creative, absorb pressure, invite error, provoke mistakes, and deploy the reserve energy of the position to win in the long run. In a large proportion of the games, I realise that the winning move was not objectively a winner. It was instead a provocative move that sowed doubt, created opportunity for mistake, or invited an ill-considered attack. Quite often, it didn't look particularly wild or provocative, but just acted that way.
In at least two cases, the move played was objectively a loser (or at least, something which would lower the chances of winning a lot). But those moves led to rapid wins. Life is funny, and often downright amusing.
Labels: Life, Philosophy
etched with acid at 8:49:00 pm
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