May 2024: Smithy's Taking A Break

So this is a quick update: the blog will be lying dormant for a month.  I haven't written a new blog post in six weeks and I have exhausted all articles I've kept in reserve. I don't have any new content ready, and if I'm being honest, I'm not really interested in doing any more right now.

Relatedly, I am taking a break from chess.  I won't be studying, reading, watching or checking anything.  This month felt like a struggle, like chess was something I was forcing myself to do rather than something I wanted to do because, you know, it's a fun game.  I need to pause and take a step back to make this is something I want to be doing.

So, for those reasons, I'll be stepping away from both the board and the keyboard for May.  If I come back more in tune with this game, great, let's get going.  If it doesn't, great, then I know I'm focusing on worthwhile things instead.  Thanks for understanding. 

Improvement is not the same as Enjoyment

 I've written a lot about chess improvement.  I have theories, suggestions, ideas and my own training plan. Getting better at chess drives me forward.  I am not alone here.  The Internet is filled with forums and videos all offering solutions on how to improve.  It's a worthy and noble pursuit.  I endorse it... but...

Improvement is not the same as enjoyment.  Getting better at chess does not necessarily mean you will like it more. It might actually do the opposite.

I remember one game in particular; it's the first game featured in my "Smithy's Minis" course, actually. I saw a check with my Queen and thought it was crushing ... one move stopped it.  Oops.  Then I dropped a piece, but my opponent dropped one right back.  The rollercoaster went up and down, back and forth, and then suddenly, magically, I had a winning attack.

I didn't know what was happening.  I was going along, playing one move at a time, completely lost in the magic.  I didn't plan ahead; I couldn't, I wasn't strong enough.  It was just one move at a time, so all the tactics literally appeared out of the blue.  I didn't know when I was losing and I didn't know I was winning until the end.

Not just this game, but every game.  It was a thrill.  I didn't know any better, so it was magic, pure magic.  I reveled in the mystery of victory and defeat. I played each game with a sense of wonder.

I have since gained over 800 rating points since that game, but I never enjoyed chess more than during those early 1400 days.

Chess Keystones: Smithy's Deep-dive into Calcuation

Since starting my new career, I have read a lot of business- and leadership-related content.  One idea that has popped up several times is that of a "keystone," or the single most important activities related to your field.  In my area of law, reading new caselaw and networking are those activities.  I can have the best precedent documents and write amazing emails and have a killer support staff, but none of that matters if I don't know the law and don't have clients to serve.  Time spent here is never wasted.

In chess, and likely most other fields, a similar dynamic applies.  There are dozens of things that affect our game and influence our result, but a core few influence the vast majority of our games.  It's not hard to guess, either.  It's calculation.  GM Shankland, 2700+ grandmaster and author and top 22 or so in the world, says that nothing else matters until about 2300 Fide.

In a previous blog post on 80/20 chess training, I suggested that calculation should be a mainstay in your chess training.  Duh.  Today, I want to focus solely on calculation training and emphasize the training aspect.  That is, there's a difference between doing calculation and training it.  This will explain that difference and give a guide path on what to do next.

The Draw Mentality

 You sit down across someone 300 ratings points lower than you.  What are you thinking?  Probably, "I'm going to win this game."  Now switch that person with an IM.  What are you thinking?  For a lot of people, it's something like, "I hope I can get a draw."

Is that really your goal?  Are you really satisfied with a draw?  Is that your ideal outcome?

Woohoo, I didn't win!

During my youth, I went to a lot of karate tournaments.  This often meant driving 2-3hrs, both ways.  You don't do that any say, "Gee, third place might be achievable."  No, I tried my damnedest to win.  I pulled out all the stops.  I trained hard for the last three months, I'm in the best shape I've ever been, and if someone is going to beat me, then they will have to freakin' earn it.

I didn't win a lot ... but sometimes I did.  And then it happened more often.  By the end of highschool, it was almost constant.  I set the bar high and I met it.  And let me tell you, karate is much more intimidating than a board game.  Oh no, I lost a pawn ... versus oh no, I got punched in the face.

If you sit down to play chess and aren't playing for a win, why are you playing chess? I mean that literally. I don't know why anyone would intentionally play for a draw.

Worrying About Forced Draws

When a new opening course is released, people ask lots of questions.  "Is it good for my rating?" or "Is it more tactical or positional?" are very common, as are, "What line do you recommend against the London?"  One of the most persistent questions, though, is a rather odd one: "Are there many forced draws?"

This question fascinates me.  There are people legitimately worried that an opening might lead straight to a draw, no discussion.  This drawish tendency is a make-or-break consideration, where some people will, apparently, not entertain an opening if a draw is even remotely possible. Like chemtrails, this is largely worrying about nothing.

If you are an amateur chess player, you have very little to worry about forced draws.

Am I Psychic? Predicting Moves Based on Psychology

If I had to name the thing I like most about chess ... it would probably be winning.  Winning feels really good.  A close second would be the joy of figuring out a hard problem.  There's something magical about working on a puzzle and then finding the key move that snaps everything into place.  That also feels really good.

That said, I can win at any game, and there are loads of intellectual puzzles to keep me busy.  Chess offers something else I find fascinating: a glimpse into the psychology of our opponents.  I can look at my opponent's moves and, frequently, predict what sort of player he is, what he wants to do, what his preferences and weaknesses are.  I can then use this prediction to inform my own strategies.

It doesn't work all the time, but anecdotally, it seems to work more often than not.  Winning is nice, but winning while figuring out the psychological make-up of your opponent, that is next level.  It reminds me of that old Bobby Fischer quote.

Today, I want to share one such game where, very early on, I predicted my opponent's psychology and then used it against him.  It's a nice game, I won in 18 moves, but more importantly, I felt like I won the mental battle long before he resigned.

If You Can't Beat 'em, Join 'em: Playing Openings You Hate

"Oh look, another London system..." your mutter to yourself, the joy already fading from your life.  "That's the third one today."  You contemplate playing the Englund Gambit, 1...e5, just to deny these no-life Londoners their favourite set-up.  Eventually you reach that familiar middlegame, where White has a grip on e5, a solid position with no weaknesses and you, as Black, have to work hard to make something out of it.  Worse, it always seems any mistake you make is immediately game-ending, whereas White never loses early.  It's not fair.  What a stupid opening... and I'm not just saying that because I have a losing record against it!

I should be thankful it's only 24 games, I guess...

This can apply to any opening.  As a kid, I hated playing against the Qxd5 Scandi.  It seemed like Black got a super-solid position with no risk.  I couldn't take advantage of the early Queen development, and my attacking moves never went anywhere.  Black remained solid and then slowly took over.  It didn't seem fair ... so I did the only sensible thing: I started playing the Qxd5 Scandi.  Hey, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em.

This was an excellent decision.  Not because the Scandi is a particularly good opening.  No, it's for the exact opposite reason: I didn't realize the downsides of the opening until I was on the other side.  Once I was faced with these problems, it opened my eyes.  The grass isn't always greener on the other side, and this knowledge empowered my White game.  The Qxd5 Scandi is now one of my better performing openings ... as White.

Today I want to go into this simple idea in a little more detail. It is an excellent training tool, and it may be the best way to truly learn and understand different structures in chess.  After all, nothing beats practical experience.