After a straight month on the road, complete with four countries, 19 tournament games, one blitz tournament, a problem solving championship, a Bermuda party and an amazing wedding, only Bruno Mars can explain how I feel.
A lot’s happened, and I’ve been neglecting my updates. I guess that just means plenty of post-Tromsoø updates. For now, here are the cliff notes:
- Australia is having an awesome Olympiad. Unfortunately, in tomorrow’s final round we have a very tough pairing: Germany. On the other hand, an upset win would I believe give us the best ever performance by an Australian Olympiad team.
- After an awesome start, I’ve been struggling in the second half of the tournament, and go into tomorrow’s game after two losses in a row.
- Kasparov lost the FIDE election, but threw a really swell party. I wrote a little parody song for the event, but my performers (Liz Pähtz and Nigel Short) chickened out at the last moment. So I’m publishing the lyrics below.
That’s it. Big game tomorrow; I’m playing super-GM Arkadij Naiditsch. I’ve been waiting 18 years (not really) to get revenge for when he beat me in the under-12s in 1996. More importantly, I don’t want to experience queenside castling again (e.g. here and here). But even more significantly than my own performance: Who’s gonna win gold? Could China really win gold in both the men’s and women’s Olympiads? Stay tuned.
Silent night, Holy night
Midnight light, Far too bright
Every two years, O-lim-pi-ad,
So much fun if you, don’t play too bad
The joy just seems to inc-reease,
O-ops, I’ve blundered a piece.
Fi-irst rest night, Ber-mu-da night,
Not the same, without a fight
Have a drink, and a laugh, and a dance
Watch those looking for chessy romance.
Don’t do something you’ll re-gret
With a GM you’ve just met.
Silent chess, Holy chess
Th’ best two weeks, I must confess
Meeting people from around the globe
Even fun for a FIDE-o-phobe
So, to you I say che-ers,
See you in two-o more years.
“If you can draw with Aronian from the exchange down, you’ll definitely have no problems against Magnus!”
That was Aussie GM Ian Rogers’ comment after my game with Levon Aronian. Quite a few people have complimented me on my ‘inspired’ exchange sacrifice in the game, but unfortunately I have to confess that I’d seen the idea before. I had the white pieces but quickly found myself in an uncomfortable position against the Philador’s Defence. Luckily, I realised that a rather remarkable transposition was possible to an obscure line of the Blackmar-Diemer Gambit, which I had analysed for my upcoming book on the Portuguese variation of the Scandinavian Defence. If none of that makes sense, play these moves on the board:
1.e4 d6 2.d4 Nf6 3.Nc3 Nbd7 4.f4 e5 5.fxe5 dxe5
…and compare it to this:
1.e4 d5 2.d4 dxe4 3.Nc3 Nf6 4.f3 Nbd7!? 5.fxe4 e5!.
I couldn’t remember much about the line, which I’d analysed for the book about six months ago. I could, however, recall writing, “Black needs to be on the lookout for Rxd6 ideas. With best play, Black is close to winning, but the sacrifice can be quite dangerous against an unprepared opponent.” Then, during the game, I realised we’d stumbled upon the exact position, and so I went for it. Lev answered precisely and I was lost in a couple of spots, but in the end, I got lucky.
Higher quality chess was probably seen on the second and third boards, however. Max played an awesomely complicated King’s Indian against one of my heroes, Movsesian, with the craziness eventually fizzling out to a draw. Moulthun played a very mature game against Sargissian, but unfortunately went wrong in a complex middlegame and lost a tight endgame. Junta got tricked by my old nemesis, Akopian, and Australia eventually succumbed 3-1 to the former World Champions.
There’s not much else to report at this stage. There are the usual rumours and gossip, but rather than saucy tales, they largely revolve around the upcoming FIDE elections, a topic I’ll steer clear of for now. The elections do, however, mean that Kasparov is everywhere (both physically and on the multitudes of posters, billboards and t-shirts that adorn the city). It was a little intimidating at various points in my game with Lev to look up from my concentration and see, sequentially, Kasparov, Carlsen and Kramnik watching on, but that’s an Olympiad for you.
Incidentally, the Australian women’s team had an arguably even more impressive performance. They also lost 3-1, this time to the much-fancied Ukrainian women’s team, but the two draws were agreed in winning positions. 2-2 was the more correct result, which would have been one of Australia’s best-ever results in either section.
Tromsø as a city is quite nice – pleasant, friendly, hideously expensive. I’ve found the one hipster café in Tromsø, into which I sneak in the mornings to join the local students for a coffee with our macbooks. I almost look like I’m here on holiday.
Here are a couple of pics, courtesy of our men’s captain Manuel Weeks and and Leonid Sandler.
My camera and I have reached some sort of peacefire, which I’m immediately taking advantage of in order to upload a few quick snaps. Helsingør (Denmark) and Oslo to date. Enjoy!
Goodbye Denmark, Hello Norway!
The Politiken Cup once again lived up to its billing as one of the most enjoyable tournaments on the European Summer calendar. This year was especially pleasant for the Aussies; as a team, we scored 4.5/5 in the final round to bump us up the order and flatter our final placings. I was the unfortunate “point-five”, drawing with US (and former Costa Rican) grandmaster Alejandro Ramirez to finish on 7.5/10. Moulthun and Anton both beat strong grandmasters with the black pieces to join me on 7.5, with Anton picking up his final IM norm in the process. The 13 year old wonderkid seemed nonplussed by this achievement, apparently more annoyed that I’d made a 2500 performance and he hadn’t (despite the 16 year age gap). He was heartened somewhat to discover he’d earned more prize money, though, thanks to winning his competitive under-2400 rating group!
Junta managed to swindle a win in what would prove to be one of the last games of the tournament. This was characteristic of his never-say-die attitude in the tournament, and although he messed up a potential (albeit long-shot) GM norm chance around the middle of the event, he still picked up valuable ELO points. Somewhat surprisingly, our captain, Manuel, was also in the norm-hunt mix after five rounds, thanks to a powerful victory over…Moulthun! Unfortunately, the Nordic Gods (or, more likely, an unfortunate dose of food poisoning) conspired against him and he was in survival mode for the last few rounds. Nevertheless, Manuel also joined the winners’ group for the last game.
Honorary Australian Gawain Jones really impressed, and thanks to a big win against Tiger in the last round, picked up second place and a hefty payday. More importantly, his rating has shot upwards to close in on 2680, dramatically increasing my chances of winning our personal bet that he’ll cross 2700 by the end of the year. The pocket change we got from winning the pair’s blitz event barely made a dent on his overall tournament income, but significantly boosted mine! I also managed to go one better than last year in winning the Danish Problem-Solving Championships (seriously good fun!), but got knocked out in the lucrative individual blitz event by none other than Junta!
Overall, it was a seriously cool fortnight of good weather, great food, excellent company and a wide variety of relaxing activities to maximise our team’s Olympiad preparations. Oh, and there was chess. Did I forget to mention chess? I’d almost forgotten.
My camera’s being a bit temperamental as I write this from one of Oslo’s many hipster-cafes, so I’ll try and upload the Danish photos once I get to Tromsø. In the meantime, if you’re one of this website’s chess-interested visitors, check out the
“David Smerdon, your team, The smurfs, has been entered successfully into the Fantasy Chess Olympiad 2014.
Your team selection is confirmed as:
Open 1: NOR – CARLSEN Magnus (2877)
Open 2: RUS – GRISCHUK Alexander (2795)
Open 3: UKR – IVANCHUK Vassily (2735)
Open 4: HUN – POLGAR Judit (2676)
Open 5: CUB – DOMINGUEZ PEREZ Leinier (2760)
Women 1: CHN – HOU Yifan (2629)
Women 2: IND – HARIKA Dronavalli (2513)
Women 3: HUN – HOANG Thanh Trang (2490)
Women 4: UKR – ZHUKOVA Natalia (2451)
Women 5: RUS – LAGNO Kateryna (2540)
Your end of competition predictions were:
Open section Gold: Russia
Open section Silver: China
Open section Bronze: Armenia
Women’s section Gold: China
Women’s section Silver: Russia
Women’s section Bronze: United States of America
Open section individual Gold: CARLSEN Magnus
Women’s section individual Gold: HOU Yifan
Your tie-breaker question answer was: 1301.”
It’s not like me to write about chess politics (i.e. my last post), but I’m sure I’ll have no choice at the Olympiad next week. Not to mention Australian politics; these days, it’s hard for me to read the politics section of The Australian without a shudder and a groan or two. So it’s nice to have a little respite before the FIDE elections begin. I’m in Helsingor, a cozy seaside town in Denmark, for the Politiken Cup. (And therein lies the headline pun. Okay, I was really reaching this time.)
Usually, being a part-time chess tourist, I like to play different tournaments in different places. So the Australian Olympiad team was a little surprised when I suggested they join me in Denmark for my second visit at this event, as a warm-up for Tromso. And a couple of my other friends have asked me what’s so great about the tournament. Well, without going into too many details or hyperbole, let me outline a typical day here in Helsingor.
8.00: Wake up; the sun is shining and it’s already a charming 25 degrees. Sneak in a quick gym session (on site), then breakfast outside in the garden, overlooking the ocean.
9.30: Chess preparation (naturally).
11.30: Duck off through the woods to the beach for a dip in the (surprisingly warm) ocean.
12.30: The lunch here – I’m not exaggerating – is by far the best food I’ve ever eaten at a chess tournament. The seafood, in particular, is astonishing.
13.00: The round begins. One round a day is a must in a place like this!
17.30: Soccer – again, on-site. Last night was “GMs versus the rest.” No prizes for guessing the result.
19.00: Dinner is also outside; the sun stays up for a ridiculously long time in the Scandinavian summer.
20.30: Normally, show-and-tell of our games in the bar; a few games of pool (free, and also on-site). Otherwise, a variety of social chess events are sometimes on offer, such as knockout blitz, pairs blitz or a problem-solving competition.
23.00: Sleeping as the sun sets, as nature intended.
Tough life. The only downside is that I’m far too relaxed to play quality chess. I’ve had a rubbish tournament so far, but thanks to some very favourable pairings, I find myself in a position to challenge for the top spots. Still, I can’t see my luck holding up. I did have one nice finish to a game, however, which will be the only chess contribution from this post. Enjoy.
It’s hard to know what to make of the latest Olympiad drama. There are so many conflicting reports, rumours, innocent victims and different parties with skin in the game, that it reminds one of an election campaign. Oh hang on; there IS an election campaign. Go figure.
Back it up a little. For those of you without your finger on the pulse of chess gossip, here’s the state of play. The Olympiad in Tromsø, Norway starts in two weeks. Ten teams (including, most significantly, the Russian women’s team) missed the deadline for registration. The organisers have said they’re not accepting the late entry of these teams. FIDE says they MUST accept these teams, citing a statute that gives the FIDE President overriding powers. The organisers say that power doesn’t apply. Drama ensues.
That’s where we stand, at least from a fact perspective. The rumour mill is well and truly in production, as you might expect, with my favourites being that (1) Gary Kasparov’s team has orchestrated the organisers’ behaviour in order to embarrass FIDE before the upcoming FIDE election; (2) FIDE may cancel the whole Olympiad, and (3) FIDE, with the help of Vladimir Putin (!), is considering moving the whole Olympiad to Sochi, Russia, within the next two weeks.
There are a lot of parties at fault in all of this. The Russian chess federation should have registered its team on time, but delayed until after Kateryna Lahno, one of the strongest female players in the world, could officially change chess federations from the Ukraine to Russia. The addition to the Russian team was especially important, given the huge rifts within the team between two of its star players, the Kosintseva sisters, and the coach, Sergei Rublevsky, after the last Olympiad. It should be noted that the Russian team could have registered a team anyway and simply added an extra name later, for a nominal fee of 100 euros. But they didn’t, and here we are.
FIDE is hardly guilt-free in this, either. I doubt FIDE would have gotten involved at all if it wasn’t for the fact that it’s Russia who is affected. Meanwhile, the animosity between FIDE and the Norwegian organisers has been heated for some time, I suspect largely underpinned by the fact that Norway is a vocal supporter of the Kasparov campaign. The Tromsø organisers must also accept blame in all this; it’s clear that the budget for the Olympiad has been completely blown out of the water (although the organisers could not have known so many more teams would want to play than in previous years), and they have cited budgetary reasons for why they won’t allow exceptions to the late deadline rule. In fact, because of budgetary uncertainty, the Olympiad was only confirmed on June 5 – notably, after the deadline for registration. I have a lot of sympathy for the organisers: this will surely be one of the most expensive Olympiads ever, with the most teams, in a country where costs are high, and just after Norway has hosted a rather expensive World Championship match and a World Cup to boot. But a budget is a budget.
The innocent victims I mentioned are, of course, the players. And not just the Russians, either. Other teams affected include the Afghani women’s team, which has itself overcome its own internal problems in the past just to be able to play, and several African teams that have had to jump over many well-publicised visa hurdles to secure their place. And, of course, if the whole Olympiad is moved or cancelled, literally thousands of chess players and fans will be affected.
I really have no idea what’s going on, and it’s even possible that the ‘facts’ I’ve re-quoted above have been massaged somehow by their sources. But what I can do is apply some basic game theory to the situation to make a prediction about what’s going to happen. For example, it’s highly unlikely that the Olympiad will be cancelled or moved. There’s just no way that FIDE would accept the negative publicity in the run-up to what will be one of the closest-fought FIDE elections in recent history. Secondly, I find it very hard to believe that these teams will ultimately not be allowed to play, for similar reasons. If the Tromsø organisers just wanted to make a point, it’s been made: this story has been widely publicised in all major media outlets in the chess world. If it’s a budgetary issue, either the money will be found somehow, or the Norwegian organisers will cave in; after all, they would have had to have budgeted for these teams a couple of months ago, when they thought that these teams would register. The unfortunate reality is that perhaps without the Russian team being affected, the organisers might have gotten away with denying the other countries a place; as it stands, although ‘no exceptions should be made’, the might of Russia is a tough beast to fight against.
So, my prediction is that the Olympiad will go ahead, and the teams will play. The real question to me is, how are we going to get there? Who is going to cave first? And which side of the election is going to come out of this looking better than the other?
I, a lowly chess blogger, have no idea. But it’s all very exciting!
Yeh I know, I need new material. But come on, I love this guy.
My tournament in Växjö (pronounced “Vair-kshh”, as I was quizzed on by the organisers in the opening ceremony) was not an overwhelming success. I finished middle of the field on an even 4.5/9. Certainly an improvement on my 0/2 start, but the second half of the tournament could be classified as a comedy of missed opportunities. Nevertheless, overall I’m not that unhappy to have sacrificed a handful of ELO points for my first Swedish chess experience. My three losses were at the hand of three of the youngest participants in the field: Mads Andersen (DEN), Aryan Tari (NOR) and Svane Rasmus (GER), three talented IMs who were super close to picking up GM norms in this event. Mads is a little older than the other two, but his play in particular really impressed me. He went on to win the tournament with 5.5 points, narrowly edging a big group on 5, and I expect we’ll hear a lot more about him (and the others) in the future. My best, or at least most entertaining, game of the event was against the top seed, GM Tiger Hillarp Persson. Tiger is one of the most unusual grandmasters I’ve met. I first ran into him at breakfast in the hotel on the opening day; I, an economist by trade, had brought a chess book to breakfast to read and relax over my meal, while the professional had brought a heavyweight macroeconomics book! I guess the grass is always greener somewhere else. Not only does Tiger share my interest in economics and particularly inequality, but he is, as he puts it, “very much a political animal”, expressing considered (and strong!) views about many topical social issues on which your average grandmaster would usually steer clear. The 43 year old is also an unusual chess professional for having started extremely late, around 25 years of age (a fact that many find especially shocking at first, seeing as he looks about 30).
Given that we were two of the three old GM punching-bags in the event, one might be forgiven for predicting an energy-saving draw in our individual encounter. And I must confess, going into the game, I would have been very happy just to take a reasonably non-confrontational half-point. However, it quickly became clear that the tournament favourite was out for blood and fireworks (not necessarily in that order), which he himself hinted at over breakfast by declaring, “Let’s have some fun!” Tiger unleashed an inspired and dangerous attack after the opening, which I only managed to diffuse by way of a rare middle game promotion on b1. This was enough to hold the balance, depute Tiger achieving his own new queen. However, the game had a few more twists in store, and by the time I achieved a second (!) promotion on b1, I had accidentally fallen into a winning endgame. Here are my notes on the game that I recently sent off to New In Chess for the next yearbook.It turns out Tiger has his own blog and he annotated the game over there as well , so for some higher-quality chess commentary,
0-0-0. Queenside castling – again!
I’m in Växjö, a sleepy little Swedish town. Well, it seems sleepy, although I’m told it’s a lively student joint outside of the summer. Just my luck: you can have the sun, or fun, but not both.
I’m here for a cozy little grandmaster-norm round robin. Again, I’m the ideal attendee: a weak, amateur, foreign GM just ripe for the beating. And the beating, unfortunately, has commenced. Besides the obligatory three GMs, the tournament’s other seven participants are all young, talented IMs from Scandinavia and Germany. I was hoping enough time had passed since my horror loss in the last round of the Batavia tournament, but apparently I could have done with a few more months. My first game was a real shocker: with White, in a nondescript exchange French, I was lost after 15 minutes. A loss with White in the first round is of course the worst possible start, but after messing up a very promising position in my second game, I suddenly found myself alone on the bottom of the table with 0/2. Thus, I had managed to lose my last three games – 0-0-0.
This was the third time this has ever happened to me, and I can’t begin to describe how horrible it feels. It’s applied somewhat when you’re alone in a foreign country and know that the two-round-a-day slugfest will continue, whether you want it to or not. Unlike most grandmasters, who can maintain their professionalism and composure game by game, I’ve always been a momentum player, prone to epic rolling highs and inescapable lows. Liable, in poker terms, to tilting. That definitely was the case in the third round: I had the shakes for almost the entire four hours, absolutely convinced that every move I made was a blunder, despite my most thorough attempts at calculations. I wanted to be anywhere else but playing chess.
Fortunately, my opponent also got nervous, and in a double-edged time scramble I came out on top. Well, ‘fortunate’ feels a little generous: Quinten, a talented Dutchman, most probably won’t have a shot at the norm now, but the GM title can’t be far off for him. I’d say the same for my first two opponents, too – good thing I’m keeping up my end of the bargain by shedding points.
I’m definitely not out of the woods yet: tomorrow morning I’ve got black against the top seed, GM Tiger Hillarp Persson. But the bleeding has stopped, for now.
The tournament, I have to say, is really great. If I was a Scandinavian junior on the hunt for a norm, this would be the perfect opportunity. There are two IM-norm round-robins going on alongside the main event, and everyone is eager and playing aggressive, fighting chess. The venue is also really cool: it’s held right next to the town’s beautiful concert hall, in a building from the early 18th century that used to be the city baths. The players are very well taken care of, and there’s a nice display and commentary room for the spectators. It doesn’t change the fact that I wish I was on a beach somewhere and definitely not playing chess, but it’s great for the rest of the players, and makes a tilt just a little bit easier.
Ah, Australia. The sunburnt land. The land down under. The lucky country.
Don’t worry; I promise this post isn’t about the latest Federal budget, though many of you are aware how much I have to say about that. Cutting $8 billion for foreign aid to the world’s poorest? Sure, why not; they can’t vote anyway, right? Sorry; I promised not to.
No, this is about a topic that many Europeans would consider to be far more important than anything else: the upcoming football World Cup. By ‘football’, I of course mean soccer. That round-balled game whereby players stare at each other for 45 minutes, score a goal, celebrate like they’ve won the shirtless lottery, and then stare at each other for another 45 minutes. Nah, I’m joking (well, partially). During my time in Europe, I’ve come to appreciate the game a lot more – the skill, the nuance, the culture, and even the sheer scale of the soccer world in business terms. (Incidentally, the total salaries of the English Premier League last season topped $3 billion. If the annual salary of the average player was reduced by a third from $2.7 million to $1.8 million – still not a bad payday for kicking a ball – the savings would completely cover the $2 billion in foreign aid projects cut from next year. But, you know, I promised…)
Anyway, back to the World Cup. It’s a huge extravaganza, uniting the world for a month in a sea of nationalism and euphoria. And amazingly, Australia made it in as one of the 32 countries to compete for the cup. Given that we are currently ranked 62nd in the world on the
Unfortunately, in Australia’s case, that hasn’t happened. In fact, according to a recent
Australia’s opponents in Group B are: Spain, the Netherlands, and Chile. Yep.
Spain is the world’s best team and the reigning World and European Champions. That’s already an unlucky draw, but to be honest, we would have struggled against any of the other “Pot One” teams that we could have drawn, such as Germany, Argentina, Brazil or even Belgium. Bad luck, but not the end of the world.
No, the real pain comes in the form of the other two teams. To qualify for the group stage, we need to be in the top two finishes of our group, which basically means finishing higher than the teams other than Spain. In this case, we’ve drawn the Netherlands, the finalists in the last World Cup and one of the historically great football teams. A recent form slump has seen their ranking fall to a paltry 14th, meaning that they were candidates for our “Pot Four” team. We could have instead faced Bosnia-Herzegovina, or Croatia, or even Greece. Not a great result.
But the real pain comes in the form of our ‘weaker’ group member, Chile. Chile has had an incredible run of late, and is now ranked even higher than the Netherlands at 13th in the world. Moreover, it’s well known that South American teams tend to do much better in their own continent. They’re understandably the favourite to take the second spot in the group ahead of the Netherlands. In football parlance, we’re in the Group of Death.
Sounds bad, but wait, there’s more. One of our national legends of the game, Josh Kennedy, is out through injury. One of our new young stars, Tom Rogic, has also just been ruled out because of injury. Our old captain has just retired, but I’m sure our new guy, Mile Jedinak, will be up to the challenge. That is, if he recovers from his recent ankle injury in time.
Am I too pessimistic? Perhaps. On the other hand, several betting sites have Australia has favourite to finish last (you can get 4 to 1 odds in some places). Call me unpatriotic if you will, but I’m already thinking ahead to my ‘second’ team to support in the Cup. I’ve decided that if I’m going to double-dip, I should at least choose a team with which I have some innate connection, so England it is. I’m not sure it’s going to bring much more joy, though, particularly given I live in the Netherlands with flatmates who support Spain and Germany.
Still, on the plus side, Australia’s chances in the partially knock-out draw have to be higher than Australia’s chances of winning the upcoming World Chess Olympiad. At least, according to chess commentators Lawrence Trent and Jan Gustafsson in a recent broadcast, Australia finishing first would be nothing short of a ‘miracle’. Two years ago we could have had our best-ever finish, sneaking into the top ten, had I not stuffed up the final round. This year, we’re also fielding a team with only one Grandmaster, but things are a little different. The team has gone for youth, a good long-term strategy, and I’ll be easily the oldest (and the tallest) member of our team. The squad will hopefully bring a hunger and energy to the campaign that I’m looking forward to cultivating. If nothing else, perhaps we have a good chance in the informal soccer matches on the rest day. If we’re lucky.