My father taught me how to play chess.  Born in 1929, I have no idea when he first became captivated by the royal game, when he learned the rules, or when he played his first game.  Not even a teenager when the U.S. entered World War II, I imagine had he seen a chess set back then he would have been fascinated by the small armies facing off on the checkered board.

Sports Star

Sports took up much of his time during high school and college. He played football for Livingston State and Auburn.  He excelled in diving.  Maybe it’s a sign of the times, maybe the sports gene had trouble following directions, but athletic prowess has never been my forte.  It might explain why I was more disposed toward chess at an early age.

Gerry in the Navy

My father enlisted in the Navy during the Korean War. I know Cribbage was his game of choice at that time.

Mom and Dad

And then my father made one of the smartest decisions in his life, and one that, among other things, greatly contributed to my interest in chess. He met and married Katherine, my mother.

Budding Chess Player?

Roughly two years later I was born.  I remembering growing up and always being interested in my father’s latest hobby.  He did not just casually pick up a hobby.  He threw himself into it without reserve.  Astronomy and we’re both identifying constellations through his Questar telescope late at night, away from the haze of city lights.  Photography and the downstairs bathroom was converted into a darkroom.  Target shooting (after having our house robbed twice) and we’re using his Star Reloader to make bullets in the basement for his .357 magnum.  Even when I jumped into an interest on my own, such as playing guitar, my Dad built a soundproof band room in the basement for us to practice in. His interest in computers (he was a senior systems analyst for IBM for many years) helped shape my career as a software architect.

Chess Vacations

But at some point my Dad took up chess, and I was hooked. He taught me my first openings and the general principles. I think I was around 13 when we played in our first tournament: The Southern Open in Nashville, Tennessee. This began the first of many family vacations we’d take that just happened to be where a major chess tournament was being held. The Southern Open was a seven-round Swiss event, and we both entered the Unrated section. Besides being unnerved in my very first tournament game because my opponent was a girl (who beat me), I came away with 4 points and my future interest in chess was cemented in.

Another of Caissa’s Devotees

In those days I never really read any chess books. All my “theory” was whatever my dad showed me. In one tournament I was rated in the 1400s and facing a middle-aged man rated in the 1600s. He opened with 1.d4 (later I heard he was an 1.e4 player who decided to try out a new first move against this little kid rated hundreds of points below him). Then followed 1…d5 2.c4 e6 3.Nc3 Nf6 4.Bg5 Nbd7, and my opponent sank into deep thought. This kid has blundered already, he thought! He confidently played 5.cxd5 and I replied with 5…exd5. I was so excited I could barely contain myself. I walked over to find my Dad and get him to come look at my game. He knew very well why I was so excited and told me with a look to settle down and not give myself away. My opponent played 6.Nxd5, sure he had just won a pawn. I reached out and played 6…Nxd5. Then followed 7.Bxd8 Bb4+ 8.Qd2 Bxd2+ 9.Kxd2 Kxd8, and now I’m a piece up, and I went on to win the game. Yes, my Dad had shown me this well-known trap, and I used it to win a key game and finish 2nd place in the tournament.  This was the first time I’d ever won prize money playing chess.

The Greatest Father on the Planet

My father eventually stopped playing chess. He said he just didn’t have the patience and would move too quickly and eventually blunder a piece. But he still took an avid interest in my growing passion for chess. He followed my tournament progress, and would fondly look over our shoulders as I played a casual game with my nephews. He later developed an interest in Texas Hold-em, a hobby I just haven’t gotten into — yet.

My father passed away last summer.  He lived a full life with a loving wife and family.  Right up until the very end he was living how he wanted: at home, enjoying his interests, but most of all treasuring every moment with his family which now included grandchildren.  My father taught me how to play chess.  But more importantly, he taught me the value of family, and of finding passion in your life.  I will be eternally grateful.  And I still feel him with me when I’m at the chess board, looking over my shoulder, cheering me on.

Xiao Cheng is the new Georgia State Champion, having scored 4.5 points in the Championship section.

Joseph Moon, U2000 Winner

Joseph Moon won the U2000 section, after an exciting blitz playoff against Boris Xu (each player having 4.5 points). Joseph won the playoff after the third blitz game. This was the first year the GCA implemented a blitz playoff to resolve ties. Are we turning into FIDE? :) Chances are if you ever tie me in one of these tournaments, you’ll get the trophy since I’m not the greatest blitz player.

Chima Umeakunne, U1600 Winner

Chima Umeakunne won the U1600 section with 4.5 points.

Congratulations to all the winners. Be sure to check out the Georgia Chess magazine for in-depth coverage of the tournament.

At the GCA meeting three people were elected to positions, all running unopposed:

Scott Parker, President

Rich Mielke, Secretary

and Henry Moon, 2nd Member at Large (no picture)

Amongst other topics, the subject of introducing online tournament registration was mentioned. That gets an enthusiastic vote from me. Online registration would have saved me $12 for this tournament. Don’t put it off — embrace procrastination now.

I played in the U2000 section and scored 3 points. I was pleased since I haven’t played in tournaments since last September. I also got to play my new 1.d4 repertoire with White (I’ve never opened with 1.d4 before) three times, and gathered a lot of useful lessons.

Here’s some highlights:

Jones - Kilgore, 2006
Black to Move

White just reacted to the threat on g2 with Re3, intending threats down the g-file. Was this a strong move? Solution

Kilgore - Hedger, 2006
White to Move

White is a pawn up and has worked hard to damage Black’s pawn structure on both sides of the board, followed by trading down to a king and pawn endgame. How does White now go on to win the game? Solution

Bedell - Kilgore, 2006
Black to Move

White has just played Qc1, with ideas of sacrificing on h6. Should Black allow this? Solution

Talk the Talk
I love to read chess books. I have a huge library. I enjoy learning principles and guidelines for strategy, tactics, and endgames. I like to study openings and prepare a repertoire. I try to analyze my own games, identify mistakes, and strive to not make them again.

Walk the Walk
All this knowledge is fine, but effectively putting it into practice is key to improvement. Both IM Edward Dearing in his new book Play the Nimo-Indian and GM Jonathan Rowson in his new book Chess For Zebras suggest that a key measure of a chess player’s skill is their ability to work out problems over the board. Rowson goes on to suggest that you improve in that area primarily by doing it. This means playing often, and possibly going over practice positions.

Body and Mind
In my own experience, the above activities aren’t enough for significant improvement. Most of the time I feel like I’m not playing at anywhere near my full potential. Much of my post-game analysis is filled with insights such as “I knew better than that” or “I was tired and just missed that.” Physical exhaustion is easy enough to handle somewhat by physical conditioning.

I’ve also discovered that most of my mistakes have more to do with strange ways my mind works rather than lack of knowledge (or wrong knowledge). For example, my mind latches onto an idea and I move on as if I’ve fully explored an area, missing other vital aspects. Here are a couple of examples from my tournament games:

Bafrali - Kilgore, 2004

In this position my opponent just played 31.Nc7!?, and I saw the obvious threat of 31…Qxc7 32.Rh8+ Kf7 33.Rh7+ and that I could counter it with 33…Bg7. So I chose to ignore his “threat” and I played 31…Qxc7??. My mind latched onto the “reason” for his move, I saw how to deal with the threat, and I moved on. I didn’t look for additional threats, and sure enough there was one. My opponent then played 32.Rh8+ Kf7 as expected, but then unleashed 33.Rxf8+! and I resigned as I’m losing my queen. In general I know to examine forcing moves, even when they seem to sacrifice material, such as White’s 31.Nc7. But in this case I was distracted by my own idea.

Kilgore - Eoff, 2004

In this position my opponent just played 19…g6 and I thought “He wants to be able to retreat his bishop to g7.” In this case that may have been all my opponent really intended. But having latched onto an idea, I didn’t think about the move any further, and went on to consider my own plans and moves. In general I know to not only look at what a moved piece can now do, but also what it can no longer do. But in this case I was distracted by my own idea. If I had noticed that 19…g6?? removes a defender from f6, I should have seen 20.Ncd5! exd5 21.Nxd5 Qb8 22.Bxf6 Rc8 (22…Nxf6 23.Nxf6+) 23.Qg4 and White is winning.

I noticed the common thread of these two examples, and my solution is to try and always ask “What else?” In practice, I found that I would do this at times, but there were always moments (and sometimes these were key moments) when I’d fail to do this.

As adults I believe our minds and bodies are heavily conditioned to work a certain way, and these patterns and tendencies are our crutch to significant chess improvement. This goes way beyond chess. Adjusting the way our body-mind works is not a trivial undertaking. It’s also not something many of us are going to do just to improve our chess. It’s an entire way of life when you get down to it.

The Way
Tao means “way” as in a way of life. It’s traditionally associated with Taoism. Our popular culture has come up with “The Tao of X” to entertain and educate a wide variety of subjects. The Tao of Pooh is one of my favorites. Peter Kurzdorfer even wrote a book called The Tao of Chess, of which this site is in no way associated, but by all means check his book out if it interests you. This site is simply about my adventures in chess, including my ramblings about improving my own game. And I’ve personally come to the conclusion that my entire way of life has to change for my chess to improve substantially. Fortunately for me, this is something I want to do anyway, independent of chess.

Exploring this Tao of Chess fully is an ongoing process, but I can point to a few features as I now see them:

• Beginner’s Mind
  As talked about in Zen literature, “In the beginner’s mind there are many possibilities. In the expert’s mind there are few.” This is about being able to approach the moment with a clear mind, free of preconceived limiting ideas and perceptions, to see what’s actually there. No more, no less. Just what’s there. Be here now. This is surprisingly harder than it sounds.
• Tai Chi
  The Yin-Yang symbol is the archetype of fundamental duality. Hard and soft. Darkness and light. Attack and defense. Open and closed. Tai Chi Chuan, perhaps the most advanced martial art in existence, uses this principle at its core. When pushed, pull. When pulled, push. You never meet force with force. That only works if you’re stronger. Instead, flow with their force and redirect it back onto themselves. Work in harmony with your opponent.
• Self-Transcendence
  Strong chess players and big egos are practically synonyms, so this one may seem like an impossible challenge. I want to view chess as (among other things) an art, where two artists mutually sculpt the work. Unlike Fischer and Kasparov (and many others), I don’t want to crush my opponent’s will and destroy their ego. I want to participate in a mutual creation, dissolving the barriers of separation. Yes, I know that sounds incredibly idealistic and lofty, but so be it. Can you imagine sitting across from someone in a tournament hall and viewing the game as a mutual creative expression?

This is just a hint at what The Tao of Chess is for me. I’ll let you know how it turns out.

I scored 2.5 out of 5 in last year’s championship. It should be fun!

FM Miles Ardaman
2005 Georgia State Champion

FM Todd Andrews
2004 Georgia State Champion

FM Stephen Muhammad
2003 Georgia State Champion

I have taken a break from chess since the new year. Part of my decision was because I had used up all my vacation time for work on taking Mondays off after weekend tournaments, and was unable to take my customary week off between Christmas and New Years. But mainly it was because I needed a break.

I’ve made some significant practical decisions about how chess fits into my life.

1) I have completely revamped my opening repertoire. Previously I opened with 1.e4, playing many main lines. With Black I responded to 1.e4 with 1…e5, mostly main lines, and a Nimzo-Queen’s Indian system against 1.d4. I’ll go into my new repertoire at a later date, once I actually start playing it in tournaments. For now I’ll say that 99% of my opponents won’t have prepared for the lines, they are minimal in theory, and still very playable.

2) I am going to have fun. I had fun before, but there was also a lot of grind associated with my chess preparation. I did the Tactics Boot Camp. I drilled tactics and opening variations regularly. Weekend tournaments were gruelling affairs where I tapped into my energy reserves by the third day and completely exhausted myself (hence my Mondays off from work). Okay, I’m getting old(er). Vital-physical conditioning is now assuming a top priority in my preparation. I have this crazy idea that the more balanced my entire being is, the better I will play, even without constant drilling. I want to look at a game of chess as something that can’t really be prepared for. I want to forget everything I know when I sit down to play, so that I can simply be there. I want to see a position for what it is, with a clear and empty mind, not filled with rules and ideas all competing with one another. A chess game is a sculpture being carved by two players. Each move gives it more shape, removing more and more possibilities.

I have seen many chess games in the A class (and below), where the winner is the player who maintained a clearer focus in the later parts of the game. Four hours go by and both players play some hard chess. Very complicated tactical struggles resolve down to an endgame with a few minor pieces and pawns remaining, and both players are tired. I have noticed that the consistent winners of class sections are not always the flashiest players. Some of these winners I even feel that I can generally outplay them. They are good enough to hold on and survive to the endgame. But by then I am tired, and they maintain their focus. And they beat me almost every time. There’s a lot to be said for this. They are the better chess player and competitor, simply because they get the full points. I want to feel fresh in the late middlegames and endgames. I believe so many lost games can be drawn and even won, and many drawn games can be won in these phases of the game. This is the area I want to focus my study on. It’s not boring. It’s ripe with possibilities.

I’ll let you know how this goes. I’m not yet sure when I’ll start playing tournaments again, but it will definitely be a new beginning for me.

Since several people are asking, I haven’t given up chess. But I am taking a breather from the intense study and playing I had been doing. It had started to become a grind and I needed a break. I still play a weekly online slow game with Fussy Lizard, buy and read new chess books (an addiction all its own), and keep up with the big super-GM tournies, such as Wijk aan Zee. My USCF rating dipped back into the B class from my last couple of tournaments, and I don’t want to play in them again until I’m serious about my preparation and play.

The sun had just gone down, and the three chess sets were on a long table outside in front of a train car. An excited crowd murmured in anticipation. At table #2 was Mickey Adams and Vishy Anand. At table #3 was Alexander Morozevich and Judit Polgar. And at table #1 sat Veselin Topalov and an empty chair.

I knew it would be a tough game, but soon I would be able to say that I had played the World Champion. I sat down across from Topalov, when he looked at me and said in his Bulgarian accent, “Do I have White or Black?”

“Um…, I’m not sure,” I said.

“Do I have White or Black? We can’t play until I know.”

I looked around for the pairings sheet and found it. Sure enough it said Topalov and I would play on board #1, but it didn’t specify the colors. The other pairings had clear notations for who had what color. At the time it didn’t seem unusual to me that colors were specified in this way. I only noticed that my game with the chess great was being held up. I frantically started looking for Scott, the TD, to resolve the issue.

The other players started their games. Topalov sat back impatiently. I asked people where Scott was. Nobody could find him!

Time passed and soon the reporters were interviewing Topalov as I sat on top of the train car, dejected. My game with Topalov was not to happen.

And then I woke up.

Kilgore (1826) - Kinsler (1893)
White to move

I saw a way to grab a pawn with 14.exf5! exf5 15.Qd5+ Kh7. But now I began to worry that after 16.Qxd6, Black could trap my queen with 16…Bxc3 17.bxc3 Nhf6. Saving the queen (and the won position) is not that hard once you are willing to let her stay on d6 for awhile. For example, 18.Re1 Re8 19.Bd2 Rc8 20.Rxe8 Qxe8 21.Re1. I didn’t see all this during the game, so I played 16.Re1?? because taking on d6 looked too scary. Another psychological factor I’ve experienced before is that initially my plan on extracting my queen was based on 16.Qxd6 Nhf6 17.Nd5, and 16…Bxc3 ruins that idea. Discovering 16…Bxc3 at the last moment, I began to worry that he could indeed trap my queen and didn’t stop to make a detailed practical analysis.

Kostrinsky (1884) - Kilgore (1826)
Black to move

I’ve gotten myself into a bit of trouble here. White’s about to win back his piece and will be a pawn up. Then I found 17…Bxf2+! If 17.Kxf2 then 17…Qc5+ and I can save my light-squared bishop. My opponent played 18.Qxf2 and I got out of the mess with even material. This game should have been a draw, but I misplayed the endgame.

I managed to win a piece after 21…Nxd4 22.Bxd4 Qg6 23.g3 Qd3 24.Re3 (24.Qb2 is better, but allowing my queen to f3 is not an easy thing to do) Qxd4. Confident that I would now beat this 1966 player, I responded to 25.Rae1 with 25…Qxa4?? whereupon he equalized with 26.Qxc8! Ouch. I’ll skip the next part where I donated a queen to the cause. One of my worst chess moments ever.

Cano (1866) - Kilgore (1826)
Black to move

Here’s a Nimzo-Indian. I played 7…e5, the main line. At the time, having never played this line before, I wondered whether 7…e5 was the right move, or if I was confusing it with another line. I calculated that Black had nice compensation if White takes on e5, and feeling rather reckless from my lackluster tournament performance so far, I decided to go for it and at least go down fighting. The game continued 8.dxe5 Nc6 9.Nf3 Bf5 (the point of 7…e5) 10.Qb3 Na5 11.Qa4+ c6 12.cxd5 Qxd5 13.Be3 Nc4 14.Bd4 b5 15.Qd1.

Now who wouldn’t love this type of play with the Black pieces? Later my opponent offered a draw in a position I probably should have played on, but eager to have some positive score where I actually played, I agreed to the draw.

Memorial Service Information (to be held August 30)
Newspaper Obituary

Slav
1.d4 d5 2.c4 c6 3.Nf3 Nf6 4.Nc3 

Open Catalan
1.d4 Nf6 2.c4 e6 3.g3 d5 4.Nf3

Semi-Open Catalan
1.d4 Nf6 2.c4 e6 3.g3 d5 4.Nf3 Be7 5.Bg2 0-0 6.0-0

What do they all have in common?

A main line move in each position is …dxc4. What’s going on here? Why is Black voluntarily giving White the center by removing that nice pawn on d5 which controls e4?

The answer is time.

In the Slav position, Black wants to develop his light-squared bishop before playing …e6, but to do so immediately would invite cxd5 followed by Qb3 and Black is in trouble on the queenside light squares. In all three cases, it will take a few moves for White to recapture the c-pawn (in the Catalan positions White has to do so without the light-squared bishop since he wants to fianchetto it). While White is busy getting his pawn back, Black has a little extra time to develop his queenside and bring his pieces to active squares. Sometimes White will truly gambit the pawn and bet that the dynamic activity he gets will more than make up for Black’s measly one-pawn advantage.

Is Black’s position so cramped that he has to give up the center just for a few tempi? Can’t he find a way to develop his pieces and retain the central tension? Won’t Black just be worse without any lasting advantage for giving up the center? What is this dynamic compensation that Black receives?

Will you give up a structural/static advantage (or accept a structural/static weakness) for temporary dynamic play? This is a difficult concept to truly grasp and have the confidence and technique to use. After all, if you let your dynamic advantage fade away you’re just left with a structural, long-term weakness.

I reached this position in a tournament game:

Kilgore - Tillis 2004

Black has just played 7…h6. In case you don’t recognize the position, it was also reached in Deep Blue - Kasparov 1997, a game which Kasparov quickly lost. I knew immediately that I was supposed to play 8.Nxe6! White sacrifices material for dynamic compensation in the form of Black’s king getting stuck in the middle and a long-lasting initiative. But I sat there and thought for about 15 minutes. A single thought kept going through my head. “Do I have the technique to make this dynamic compensation count?” I finally decided that I would never forgive myself if I chickened out, so I played 8.Nxe6! There’s no forced mate or winning back of the material. If I let Black untangle himself, I’m simply down the material.

What would you do?

Do you like to play dynamic chess?

I drew the above game, after winning back the material plus a little more, but in mutual time trouble with a fairly balanced position I played it safe and offered a draw (one thing I am good at in chess is blundering in time trouble). I was still satisfied with the game on some level because I did maintain the initiative for a long time and eventually converted it into a material gain.

Yes, playing dynamic chess is scary, but it’s also fun. And I believe it’s an essential part of becoming a stronger player at some point.