“When everything has gone to hell, there’s nothing to do but
to play idiotic games.”
Back in my teens, this side of the profession appealed to me
a lot. I knew stories from my coach when grandmasters would gather and spend
their evenings during tournaments in similar fashion. That was still a thing in
those days when I started traveling to tournaments, though one I could only peer
at from aside due to my young age and, if not reason enough, the watchful
eye of my mother. I remember thinking that if I would train hard enough and
become one of the strongest players of the country, I would be attending
prestigious events, meeting brilliant people who would invite me to their exclusive
circles. A silly fantasy of a young girl one might think.
I caught a taste of that fantasy, even if briefly. During
the last twenty years or so, since my career has been developing, chess has
changed a lot given the impact of technology. If before one could easily find a
lot of similarities between chess and arts, nowadays- chess is above all a
sport, where endurance, discipline and stamina play a decisive role. Due to the
quantity of information and easiness with which anyone can access it, the amount
of work a professional must put in doesn’t easily forgive those breaking the
rules. The exclusive circles have suffered a blow too. Time doesn’t dilate, one
can’t lose nights for parties or days for reading non chess related stuff in a
world where 14-year-old grandmasters have become a normality rather than a
phenomenon. These days, I hear parents saying that if their children are not to
become GMs by 15 y.o., they will not encourage them to go pro. They have a
point. Chess becoming younger has both pluses and minuses. On one hand, a
shorter span of career means more time to freely develop and discover other
things after retiring, assuming one has reached heights enough for enjoying the
privileges of being a world-famous sports person. On the other hand, one’s
personality doesn’t benefit from the early touches of those different spheres
of life- you look at them through the already formed habits, in a rather rigid
manner.
On one of the days before the start of the tournament, I went out for lunch with a friend who also took upon the task of showing me around Wijk. While walking along the dunes, we passed by the main hotel, where most of the participants of the Masters group were accommodated, to reach our destination- a pub with a lot of seating by wide windows available. We were guided to a table and handed over menus. While carefully analysing our options, my friend told me that it was surprising not to see the piano where a chess board was majestically overlooking the place. However, we noticed a wide screen where a football match was streamed. Later, I was to discover that once the tournament started, the chess broadcast was to overtake, so that all the guests could follow and discuss the ongoing games. A cheerful waiter approached asking if we made our choices. While we ordered kimchi burgers, the young man explained to us that the piano was gone as the owner of the place changed and they decided to make more seating available instead- a practical decision, fitting the times we live. While enjoying the food, my friend continued by saying that the pub was a favourite among players as one could always find place, despite the huge flux of hungry chess professionals and amateurs.
Back to the first day lunch. After finishing our meals, we
went on walking to the main town square. Passing by cafes and restaurants, my
friend stopped in front of an ice cream place. ‘It used to be the best bar in
town! Players were gathering here for drinks, and we had so many fun nights…
They kept open until the last customer. I have so many nice memories linked to
this place! It had this obscure lighting and bunker vibe. It closed some years
ago, such a pity. It is so bright and colourful now- an ice cream place it has
become.’, said my friend melancholically. ‘Well, look at the players’ age this
year- an ice cream place was perhaps a wise choice indeed.’, I replied
jokingly.
I can easily picture most of my opponents there going in for
a few scoops of vanilla and chocolate while discussing how they played that day
against someone who participated in the tournament for the first time when they
were still not born.
The little girl should have fantasized about an ice cream booth.
It is late now. Yet another night when I won’t get my eight hours of sleep, but that’s not because of those heated debates, or music, or dancing. Tonight, my breaking the rules is due to Simone de Beauvoir and, as she said, “Sacrifices are no longer painful when they’re behind you.”
