After Kasparov's 2001 themed Pepsi advert, today we have the real deal...
I really must watch this film again sometime, if only to satisfy my curiousity on one rather bizarre point. Does it really contain Rigsby from Rising Damp playing a Russian called Smyslov or did I dream that?
More chess related video clips available here.
Saturday, August 04, 2007
Friday, August 03, 2007
Is this the third most drawish variation in the world?
1.d4 Nf6 2.c4 e6 3.Nf3 b6 4.g3 Bb7 5.Bg2 Be7 6.O-O O-O 7.Nc3 Ne4 8.Nxe4 Bxe4
I was alerted to the potential of this variation when looking for something negative to play in next season's Aragón Championships, in which, as the minimum entry requirement is an Elo of 2100, I am liable to find myself seriously outgunned.
It's not the first time I've taken an interest in the Queen's Indian, though previously I've been more attracted to the lines involving 4...Ba6: but they appear to be a bit too lively for my present purposes. It was with no small pleasure, then, that reading Yrjölä and Tella's Queen's Indian (Gambit, 2003) I came across the following comment:
Using our usual criteria and searching Chessbase Online Database for games between opponents rated 2400 and above, we find 73 games, of which 68 were drawn, the remaining five being split with three wins for Black and only two for White. This is a draw percentage of 93.15, only marginally behind the 93.28 achieved in the Cozio variation of the Petroff. Winners with Black include Colin Crouch, Keith Arkell failing where Tom Chivers succeeded: those drawing with White include not only Ivan Farago - six times, plus another one on the Black side - but Bellón, who obviously isn't too proud to have a nine-move draw with the White pieces provided the opponent (Evgeny Ermenkov) is the one to make the offer.
Oddly, the search results only include games going back to 1998. It's possible that Elo grades weren't available - or just weren't entered - for games before this date, as I imagine that (to take one example of many) both Lajos Portisch and Anatoly Karpov were some distance above that figure when they treated themnselves to a seventeen-move draw at Skara in 1980. (They'd managed twenty-five in Tilburg earlier the same year, perhaps the more aggressive positioning of the rook on f1 having encouraged White to continue.)
Not bad seeing as the queens are still on the board and there's no open files. Still, 8.Nxe4 isn't compulsory - Black also has to be aware of 8.Qc2 and 8.Bd2. I notice that discussing the former move, the authors give three games in the same variation played between Andersson and Karpov in 1983 and 1984. They were drawn in 21, 25 and 17 moves respectively.
I was alerted to the potential of this variation when looking for something negative to play in next season's Aragón Championships, in which, as the minimum entry requirement is an Elo of 2100, I am liable to find myself seriously outgunned.It's not the first time I've taken an interest in the Queen's Indian, though previously I've been more attracted to the lines involving 4...Ba6: but they appear to be a bit too lively for my present purposes. It was with no small pleasure, then, that reading Yrjölä and Tella's Queen's Indian (Gambit, 2003) I came across the following comment:
8. Nxe4 Bxe4 is a totally drawing variation. There are more than a thousand games with this move [sic] in our database but during the last ten years there have only been a few games that have lasted more than 15 moves.Go on, you've got my attention...
There is nothing White can do to change the drawing nature of this line.This is what we want! So let's look at the stats.
Using our usual criteria and searching Chessbase Online Database for games between opponents rated 2400 and above, we find 73 games, of which 68 were drawn, the remaining five being split with three wins for Black and only two for White. This is a draw percentage of 93.15, only marginally behind the 93.28 achieved in the Cozio variation of the Petroff. Winners with Black include Colin Crouch, Keith Arkell failing where Tom Chivers succeeded: those drawing with White include not only Ivan Farago - six times, plus another one on the Black side - but Bellón, who obviously isn't too proud to have a nine-move draw with the White pieces provided the opponent (Evgeny Ermenkov) is the one to make the offer.Oddly, the search results only include games going back to 1998. It's possible that Elo grades weren't available - or just weren't entered - for games before this date, as I imagine that (to take one example of many) both Lajos Portisch and Anatoly Karpov were some distance above that figure when they treated themnselves to a seventeen-move draw at Skara in 1980. (They'd managed twenty-five in Tilburg earlier the same year, perhaps the more aggressive positioning of the rook on f1 having encouraged White to continue.)
Not bad seeing as the queens are still on the board and there's no open files. Still, 8.Nxe4 isn't compulsory - Black also has to be aware of 8.Qc2 and 8.Bd2. I notice that discussing the former move, the authors give three games in the same variation played between Andersson and Karpov in 1983 and 1984. They were drawn in 21, 25 and 17 moves respectively.
Thursday, August 02, 2007
Kingpin #39
If you did not already know that the new Kingpin is out, then never mind, for I am telling you now: at last the UK's most interesting and most irregular chess magazine is available again.
Among the masters and grandmasters writing in the new issue are Tony Kosten, Gary Lane and Tibor Karolyi: among the rest are Martin Regan, new head of the English Chess Federation. There is a long article about (you will be surprised to hear) the Penguin and a piece about the toilet-related dispute at the last World Championship match, the author of which is the present writer.
Among the masters and grandmasters writing in the new issue are Tony Kosten, Gary Lane and Tibor Karolyi: among the rest are Martin Regan, new head of the English Chess Federation. There is a long article about (you will be surprised to hear) the Penguin and a piece about the toilet-related dispute at the last World Championship match, the author of which is the present writer.
I also contribute some book reviews - which are followed by a piece from Amatzia Avni complaining about negative reviews, which suggests that he won't much have liked what I've written about his latest book.
Buy it now and subsidise my lifestyle. A single issue will cost you £5.95, a UK sub £16 for three issues or £30 for six. Cheques payable to Kingpin: send to 54 Hamilton Road, Oxford OX2 7PZ. Online orders via here.
Better value than investing in your pension, and not likely to arrive before it does.
Wednesday, August 01, 2007
Playing chess with Death
I haven't seen The Seventh Seal, or at least not the whole way through: I fell asleep the one time I starting watching it on TV, something attributable to the lateness of the hour rather than any inadequacy of the film. But I've seen the sequence where the knight meets Death and challenges him to a game of chess, though I don't know how the game goes or what happens in the end, either in the game or in the film. I'd imagine that it was by some distance the most famous depiction of chess in the history of cinema: and when Ingmar Bergman died I located the sequence and watched it again.
One cannot be a chessplayer and watch the sequence as if one were not. To most viewers the role of chess would be incidental - or rather, functional, the game serving a role in the plot (to prolong the life of the knight and to offer the possiblity that he may escape his fate) and symbolic (the game itself representing the human struggle against difficulty and death). One sees all this, of course, but as a chessplayer one also watches for what light the film may cast on chess. It's impossible to avoid and no doubt it skews your perspective - I even found myself assuming, as the knight searched in his bag, that he was trying to locate a piece missing from his set - but it's not wholly a bad thing. One's understanding can surely be greater if one possesses greater knowledge: it must surely be useful to the critical appreciation of the film if some viewers, at least, come at it from a perspective that is different but is relevant.
Watch the sequence, as a chessplayer or otherwise: it begins with a quote from the Book of Revelation.
The clouds, the bird, the shore: all these not only make a lasting impression, but put one in mind of that other great film of death and chess, A Matter Of Life And Death, in which David Niven, after baling out of his burning aircraft (his radio conversation with Kim Hunter, before he jumps, is almost impossibly sentimental and moving) is "missed in the fog" by Marius Göring, the envoy charged with taking him to the next world. He finds himself, like the knight, awake on a beach: and the plot of the film subsequently revolves around the question of whether Niven should live, whether he should accompany the envoy or escape back to the world we know.
I've no reason to think that Bergman was influenced by the movie when he made The Seventh Seal: but I can't see Bergman's sequence without thinking of Powell and Pressburger. (Or, indeed, of Roger Corman, whose Masque of the Red Death, in which Death appears at the end, was influenced by Bergman.) Nor can I see the sequence without thinking about chess, perhaps rather more than the filmmaker intended. It is the dialogue between the knight and Death which interests me most:
I wondered, when watching, what paintings the knight might refer to, since I could think of none and because the Crusades, from one of which the knight is returning, almost entirely predate the development in Europe of the art of painting. It is, certainly, an anachronism, though not an important one (the film not being an exact replication of any given era and the symbolism being rather more important than the reality). Wikipedia tells me that Bergman did, in fact, have a particular painting in mind. Death and chess together. Chess the choice of Death.
Should we object to the connection between chess and death? Perhaps not. There can't be many of us who have not wondered, perhaps often, whether chess is a questionable, perhaps even a harmful thing in which to be involved. Something strange, something unhealthy in nature and form. We wonder whether we should not be doing something more constructive, whether chessplayers are not introverts by nature, people who prefer to stay inside and look inside their own heads rather than go outside and make themselves part of the lives of others. As children, we should have been playing in the fresh air: as adults, we are formed, hampered, maybe even crippled by the choices we made as children. On this view, chess is unhealthy: it is about our fear of life, our fear of other people.
But perhaps, in the knight's struggle with Death, there is another view: that chess is, in one way or another, a source and symbol of life. It is about the activity of the mind, about the desire to struggle - rather than say that this is all too difficult and we would rather give up. However tough and relentless our opponent, when the game begins we have the same chances that they have. It doesn't just represent symbolically the struggle against difficulty: in some ways it can constitute it, too.
So we try and elude them, we try to keep thinking, we try to keep going, we try to stay alive. As hard as we can and for as long as we can. Even though, in the end, we are far more likely than they to be lost in the fog.
One cannot be a chessplayer and watch the sequence as if one were not. To most viewers the role of chess would be incidental - or rather, functional, the game serving a role in the plot (to prolong the life of the knight and to offer the possiblity that he may escape his fate) and symbolic (the game itself representing the human struggle against difficulty and death). One sees all this, of course, but as a chessplayer one also watches for what light the film may cast on chess. It's impossible to avoid and no doubt it skews your perspective - I even found myself assuming, as the knight searched in his bag, that he was trying to locate a piece missing from his set - but it's not wholly a bad thing. One's understanding can surely be greater if one possesses greater knowledge: it must surely be useful to the critical appreciation of the film if some viewers, at least, come at it from a perspective that is different but is relevant.
Watch the sequence, as a chessplayer or otherwise: it begins with a quote from the Book of Revelation.
And when he had opened the seventh seal, there was silence in heaven about the space of half an hour.
The clouds, the bird, the shore: all these not only make a lasting impression, but put one in mind of that other great film of death and chess, A Matter Of Life And Death, in which David Niven, after baling out of his burning aircraft (his radio conversation with Kim Hunter, before he jumps, is almost impossibly sentimental and moving) is "missed in the fog" by Marius Göring, the envoy charged with taking him to the next world. He finds himself, like the knight, awake on a beach: and the plot of the film subsequently revolves around the question of whether Niven should live, whether he should accompany the envoy or escape back to the world we know.
I've no reason to think that Bergman was influenced by the movie when he made The Seventh Seal: but I can't see Bergman's sequence without thinking of Powell and Pressburger. (Or, indeed, of Roger Corman, whose Masque of the Red Death, in which Death appears at the end, was influenced by Bergman.) Nor can I see the sequence without thinking about chess, perhaps rather more than the filmmaker intended. It is the dialogue between the knight and Death which interests me most:
Who are you?I like the way in which Death, asked about his chess by a stranger, gives much the same answer we might - albeit a little more confident, a little more boastful than "not bad". More like "yes, I'm quite good actually", for Death, after all, has no need to appear modest in anyone. But, having made a claim, he finds himself obliged to back it up - go on then, prove it! Or perhaps he is just unable to turn down a game when he is offered one, and he would not be alone in that. Moreover, he does think himself too good to have any fears about the result and perhaps he is not wrong, because he is Death. Fear is for those who come across him.
I am Death.
You have come for me?
I have been at your side for a long time.
I know.
Are you prepared?
My flesh is afraid but I am not......wait a moment.
You all say that. But I give no respite.
You play chess, do you not?
How do you know that?
I have seen it in paintings.
Yes, I am quite a skillful player.
But no more so than I.
Why do you wish to play chess with me?
That's my concern.
You're quite right.
As long as I resist you, I live....if I win, you set me free. Black for you!
It becomes me well.
I wondered, when watching, what paintings the knight might refer to, since I could think of none and because the Crusades, from one of which the knight is returning, almost entirely predate the development in Europe of the art of painting. It is, certainly, an anachronism, though not an important one (the film not being an exact replication of any given era and the symbolism being rather more important than the reality). Wikipedia tells me that Bergman did, in fact, have a particular painting in mind. Death and chess together. Chess the choice of Death.
Should we object to the connection between chess and death? Perhaps not. There can't be many of us who have not wondered, perhaps often, whether chess is a questionable, perhaps even a harmful thing in which to be involved. Something strange, something unhealthy in nature and form. We wonder whether we should not be doing something more constructive, whether chessplayers are not introverts by nature, people who prefer to stay inside and look inside their own heads rather than go outside and make themselves part of the lives of others. As children, we should have been playing in the fresh air: as adults, we are formed, hampered, maybe even crippled by the choices we made as children. On this view, chess is unhealthy: it is about our fear of life, our fear of other people.
But perhaps, in the knight's struggle with Death, there is another view: that chess is, in one way or another, a source and symbol of life. It is about the activity of the mind, about the desire to struggle - rather than say that this is all too difficult and we would rather give up. However tough and relentless our opponent, when the game begins we have the same chances that they have. It doesn't just represent symbolically the struggle against difficulty: in some ways it can constitute it, too.
So we try and elude them, we try to keep thinking, we try to keep going, we try to stay alive. As hard as we can and for as long as we can. Even though, in the end, we are far more likely than they to be lost in the fog.
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Nosher's Nashers
Last Friday I wrote about Channel 5’s “My Brilliant Brain”.
The programme included a moment when Susan Polgar talked about making ‘her’ joke about never having beaten a healthy man. Leaving aside the fact the programme presented this dishonestly – it was edited to look as if she was talking about the men she’d beaten during her first visit to a chess club as a little girl – this is hardly an original comment. Is there a chess player alive who hasn’t blamed a poor result or tournament on ill health, lack of sleep or being attacked by a swarm of killer bees on the way to the game?
It was not too surprising, then, to read of Nigel Short’s stinker of a tournament in Montreal (this blog also looks interesting) being attributed by various journalists to problems he was having with his teeth. He started with 0.5/6 and on the only day he wasn’t playing chess was forced to pay a visit to a dentist.
What was unexpected, however, was that Nigel himself, despite acknowledging the event as his worst ever (he ended up on 2/9 - good enough for last place unsurprisingly), gamely refused to blame his performance on his dodgy fangs. During an interview with chessbase Short made clear his dental difficulties were over by round three. The rest of the poor tournament he put down to … well you can read it for yourself.
A round of applause for Nosher L. Git(*) is in order I think. Perhaps we can all take a vow to follow his lead and leave those poor excuses behind us. I would but in fact I never have made up lame reasons to explain away my losses anyway. For example, that game I lost against Barry Blackburn in the Surrey Summer Individual? I really was having my brain eaten by invisible aliens at the time.
* Just in case you didn't know:- Nosher L. Git is an anagram of Nigel Short. It was invented sometime in the 1970s I believe but I've long since forgotten who deserves the credit for it.
The programme included a moment when Susan Polgar talked about making ‘her’ joke about never having beaten a healthy man. Leaving aside the fact the programme presented this dishonestly – it was edited to look as if she was talking about the men she’d beaten during her first visit to a chess club as a little girl – this is hardly an original comment. Is there a chess player alive who hasn’t blamed a poor result or tournament on ill health, lack of sleep or being attacked by a swarm of killer bees on the way to the game?
It was not too surprising, then, to read of Nigel Short’s stinker of a tournament in Montreal (this blog also looks interesting) being attributed by various journalists to problems he was having with his teeth. He started with 0.5/6 and on the only day he wasn’t playing chess was forced to pay a visit to a dentist.
What was unexpected, however, was that Nigel himself, despite acknowledging the event as his worst ever (he ended up on 2/9 - good enough for last place unsurprisingly), gamely refused to blame his performance on his dodgy fangs. During an interview with chessbase Short made clear his dental difficulties were over by round three. The rest of the poor tournament he put down to … well you can read it for yourself.
A round of applause for Nosher L. Git(*) is in order I think. Perhaps we can all take a vow to follow his lead and leave those poor excuses behind us. I would but in fact I never have made up lame reasons to explain away my losses anyway. For example, that game I lost against Barry Blackburn in the Surrey Summer Individual? I really was having my brain eaten by invisible aliens at the time.
* Just in case you didn't know:- Nosher L. Git is an anagram of Nigel Short. It was invented sometime in the 1970s I believe but I've long since forgotten who deserves the credit for it.
Monday, July 30, 2007
What Is Not Chess?
Putting aside the various answers to the question What is Chess?, it turns out it's hard to be sure quite what chess is not as well. Or at least what chess is not like, according to Ryan Emmett, who put in some research into bad chess similes in order to infuriate himself. Do check out that link for the whole of his very entertaining post, but here are a few of my favourites that he found:
* Federation Cup Tennis lineups are like a game of chessConfused? I guess it just goes to show that nothing is black and white in chess.
* 'Cold Reading' by psychics is like a game of chess
* Search Engine Optimisation is like a game of chess
Sunday, July 29, 2007
Howard Staunton: The Tournament and the T-Shirt
Next month London sees the fifth and strongest so far Staunton Memorial Tournament:
And now on to something still Staunton, but completely different. Why not stand out from the crowd at the tournament with this Staunton T-Shirt? I think it's rather dapper, and at today's exchange rates $9.99 is more or less free in Pounds sterling.
Mind you, the blurb on the website is a bit confusing:
"Once reffered to as the "OG of Chess", Howard Staunton was an English chess master and the unofficial World Chess Champion. After beating France's champion in 1843, Staunton became recognised as the best player in the world! Oh, those chess pieces you have are named after him as well. Show your Staunton support with this incredibly sexy shirt."
After extensive research on the internet, I can confirm that "OG" is short for the American phrase Original Gangsta. I'm not entirely clear on what that means in English, but I believe it's along the lines of Fine Old Fellow.
See you at the tournament, if not in the t-shirt?
The addition of Van Wely for Holland and the substitution of Jovanka Houska for Lawrence Day considerably strengthen the competition over the 2006 event.Last year's tournament was a compelling spectacle for spectators, and I thoroughly recommend the event and its fascinating, evocative venue. I'll certainly be popping along again this year each day I can, the venue being five minutes from my office.
Venue will be Simpsons in the Strand with the opening round on August 7, one rest day tbc and the final round and prize giving on august 18. Play begins in the afternoons starting 14-00 hours.
There is no charge for watching the games and we intend to have them displayed during play in the main upstairs bar at Simpsons.
And now on to something still Staunton, but completely different. Why not stand out from the crowd at the tournament with this Staunton T-Shirt? I think it's rather dapper, and at today's exchange rates $9.99 is more or less free in Pounds sterling.Mind you, the blurb on the website is a bit confusing:
"Once reffered to as the "OG of Chess", Howard Staunton was an English chess master and the unofficial World Chess Champion. After beating France's champion in 1843, Staunton became recognised as the best player in the world! Oh, those chess pieces you have are named after him as well. Show your Staunton support with this incredibly sexy shirt."
After extensive research on the internet, I can confirm that "OG" is short for the American phrase Original Gangsta. I'm not entirely clear on what that means in English, but I believe it's along the lines of Fine Old Fellow.
See you at the tournament, if not in the t-shirt?
Saturday, July 28, 2007
Friday, July 27, 2007
Susan Polgar's Brilliant Brain
Last week Angus (via Tom) tipped us off that Channel 5 were going to show a programme about Susan Polgar called My Brilliant Brain. The central premise was that Polgar is a "genius" who possesses a brain that is different to those of ordinary people.
To demonstrate Polgar’s “fundamental chess ability” of “memory” they conducted an experiment where she was asked to reconstruct a chess position after just three seconds to view it. As the camera first panned over the board we saw this block of squares:-
My instant response was, “Hang on a minute that’s …”, but before I’d finished the thought the camera had moved on to another part of the board.
This distinctive formation of the castled king position and rook on e8 and the bishop back on its home square f8 confirmed that Polgar was about to be shown a known theoretical position.
When we got to see the whole board it showed a position taken from the Zaitsev variation of the Ruy Lopez. It is usually reached by
1. e4 e5, 2. Nf3 Nc6, 3. Bb5 a6, 4. Ba4 Nf6, 5. 0-0 Be7, 6. Re1 b5, 7. Bb3 d6, 8. c3 0-0, 9. h3 Bb7, 10. d4 Re8, 11. Nbd2 Bf8, 12. a4 h6, 13. Bc2 exd4, 14. cxd4 Nb4, 15. Bb1 bxa4, 16. Rxa4 a5 17. Ra3 Ra6
So Polgar reconstructed the position quickly but it’s hardly evidence of her genius if I, an average club player, can do exactly the same thing. Indeed, when I mentioned this to Tom the following day all I had to say was “…bxa4 line of the Zaitsev” and he could recall the precise position too – and he didn’t even need to see it.
The point of the experiment was supposed to be how Polgar used ‘chunking’ to keep a chess position in her short term memory. Instead of memorising the positions of individual pieces she remembers familiar sub-formations (chunks) and reconstructs the board that way. This was confirmed when a non-player placed pieces on the board at random and she found it impossible to reconstruct the position.
The fact that a known theoretical position was used doesn’t invalidate the chunking idea, indeed the nature of my own responses seem to prove it. What it does show is the fundamental dishonesty of the programme. In truth it was Polgar’s long-term memory being tested, not her short-term memory.
Later on we saw brain scans taken of Polgar firstly while she was shown photographs of famous chess players and then while she was shown diagrams taken from her own games. During the latter she was asked to think as if she was playing chess considering her next move.
“These are the first scans of world champion’s brain playing chess.”
Well, not really. Looking at chess diagrams then thinking about a move, and actually playing chess are not at all the same thing. [And I note in passing the ‘world champion’ tag is misleading. The average person watching the programme will have assumed that meant Susan Polgar had once won the championship of the entire world and not have known it was just the female half of it.]
The programme showed the results of the scans and claimed that the part of the brain Polgar uses to play chess is exactly the same as is used to recognise faces. Apparently this is known as the fusiform face area.
Now this is an interesting finding but what is actually being said here? The programme claimed Polgar’s chess playing ability is entirely based on her ability to recognise familiar positions and formations and that her brain is actually different to everybody else.
“Astonishingly, Susan’s brain has hijacked the fusiform face area and adapted it to chess.”
What of other Grandmasters? What of me and you? Do we also use the fusiform face area to recognise chess positions or is this unique to Polgar as the programme implies?
What about those scans? The programme doesn’t make clear whether the scans we saw were taken when Polgar was looking at the familiar chess positions or when she was thinking her next move. Would scans at these different times show similar results or would there be differences?
In any event, is it so astonishing that Susan’s brain uses the fusiform face area to recognise chess positions? Even the laziest research on the internet (i.e. looking up 'fusiform' on Wikipedia) suggests this area of the brain is also used to recognise, amongst other things, words and numbers too. Not looking quite so surprising now is it?
These are the key questions in assessing the programme’s fundamental claim that Polgar is a genius and that her brain has become different to yours and mine. Sadly, My Brilliant Brain didn’t ask these questions let alone answer them. Mind you, given the programme blatantly lied about Susan Polgar being the first female grandmaster and employed numerous other half-truths and misrepresentations, I’m not sure I’d have believed it even if it had.
To demonstrate Polgar’s “fundamental chess ability” of “memory” they conducted an experiment where she was asked to reconstruct a chess position after just three seconds to view it. As the camera first panned over the board we saw this block of squares:-
My instant response was, “Hang on a minute that’s …”, but before I’d finished the thought the camera had moved on to another part of the board.
This distinctive formation of the castled king position and rook on e8 and the bishop back on its home square f8 confirmed that Polgar was about to be shown a known theoretical position.
When we got to see the whole board it showed a position taken from the Zaitsev variation of the Ruy Lopez. It is usually reached by
1. e4 e5, 2. Nf3 Nc6, 3. Bb5 a6, 4. Ba4 Nf6, 5. 0-0 Be7, 6. Re1 b5, 7. Bb3 d6, 8. c3 0-0, 9. h3 Bb7, 10. d4 Re8, 11. Nbd2 Bf8, 12. a4 h6, 13. Bc2 exd4, 14. cxd4 Nb4, 15. Bb1 bxa4, 16. Rxa4 a5 17. Ra3 Ra6
So Polgar reconstructed the position quickly but it’s hardly evidence of her genius if I, an average club player, can do exactly the same thing. Indeed, when I mentioned this to Tom the following day all I had to say was “…bxa4 line of the Zaitsev” and he could recall the precise position too – and he didn’t even need to see it.
The point of the experiment was supposed to be how Polgar used ‘chunking’ to keep a chess position in her short term memory. Instead of memorising the positions of individual pieces she remembers familiar sub-formations (chunks) and reconstructs the board that way. This was confirmed when a non-player placed pieces on the board at random and she found it impossible to reconstruct the position.
The fact that a known theoretical position was used doesn’t invalidate the chunking idea, indeed the nature of my own responses seem to prove it. What it does show is the fundamental dishonesty of the programme. In truth it was Polgar’s long-term memory being tested, not her short-term memory.
Later on we saw brain scans taken of Polgar firstly while she was shown photographs of famous chess players and then while she was shown diagrams taken from her own games. During the latter she was asked to think as if she was playing chess considering her next move.
“These are the first scans of world champion’s brain playing chess.”
Well, not really. Looking at chess diagrams then thinking about a move, and actually playing chess are not at all the same thing. [And I note in passing the ‘world champion’ tag is misleading. The average person watching the programme will have assumed that meant Susan Polgar had once won the championship of the entire world and not have known it was just the female half of it.]
The programme showed the results of the scans and claimed that the part of the brain Polgar uses to play chess is exactly the same as is used to recognise faces. Apparently this is known as the fusiform face area.
Now this is an interesting finding but what is actually being said here? The programme claimed Polgar’s chess playing ability is entirely based on her ability to recognise familiar positions and formations and that her brain is actually different to everybody else.
“Astonishingly, Susan’s brain has hijacked the fusiform face area and adapted it to chess.”
What of other Grandmasters? What of me and you? Do we also use the fusiform face area to recognise chess positions or is this unique to Polgar as the programme implies?
What about those scans? The programme doesn’t make clear whether the scans we saw were taken when Polgar was looking at the familiar chess positions or when she was thinking her next move. Would scans at these different times show similar results or would there be differences?
In any event, is it so astonishing that Susan’s brain uses the fusiform face area to recognise chess positions? Even the laziest research on the internet (i.e. looking up 'fusiform' on Wikipedia) suggests this area of the brain is also used to recognise, amongst other things, words and numbers too. Not looking quite so surprising now is it?
These are the key questions in assessing the programme’s fundamental claim that Polgar is a genius and that her brain has become different to yours and mine. Sadly, My Brilliant Brain didn’t ask these questions let alone answer them. Mind you, given the programme blatantly lied about Susan Polgar being the first female grandmaster and employed numerous other half-truths and misrepresentations, I’m not sure I’d have believed it even if it had.
Thursday, July 26, 2007
Ten and a half questions about the "decline of English chess"
- It's claimed that professional chess is in a crisis in England. Is this actually true, or are there in fact more professionals than ever?
- How does the current performance compare to most historical periods and should the period roughly 1975-1995 be seen as a "blip" rather than the norm? If so, why did it happen and can those conditions be recreated?
- Is there any reason to think England significantly different to Western Europe as a whole? Where are the new Hubners and Timmans and Anderssons? Doesn't elite Western European chess - Adams aside - presently rest basically on one Danish prodigy, who is an exception more or less by definition? Is England therefore not typical rather than exceptional?
- Haven't most leading English players always been amateurs and haven't there always been many strong English players who've given up the game? Does Matthew Sadler's retirement actually point to some crisis or isn't it in fact completely normal? Didn't Michael Stean give up at the height of the boom? Or Ray Keene, for that matter? Doesn't this happen in most Western European countries?
- Does this not suggest that there are structural and cultural reasons for the inability of England and other Western European countries to produce world-class chessplayers or to provide a comfortable living for people playing a little below that level?
- Isn't the major reason for the so-called decline of English chess the fall of the USSR and the subsequent emergence of a great number of strong chessplayers from the former Soviet bloc? Are there not so many of these because chess culture was promoted so heavily in the Soviet years and chess therefore became far more prominent and widespread in those countries than in the West?
- Moreover are living standards not rather lower in these countries, making alternative careers to chess less attractive - but also meaning that prize money in Euros goes much further?
- Didn't the chess boom that took place during my schooldays originate with just a couple of major phenomena? I don't mean that they were enough on their own (of course a lot of people did a lot of work) but that without them, it just couldn't have happened? One of these was of course, the Fischer v Spassky match. But wasn't the other the TV show The Master Game? Isn't it likely that that show was far more influential in creating chessplayers than anybody has ever appreciated?
- Does this not mean that if people want the public to follow chess and take it up, it absolutely has to be on telly?
- Isn't it very probable that chess entrepreneurs in the UK have in fact been trying to get chess on TV, probably in the Master Game format or similar, but have failed? (I don't know this - I don't know some secret you don't know! - but I'm speculating.) Wouldn't you wonder whether the reason it's not been on telly would be the difficulty in finding TV executives who think that there would be any viewing audience for chess?
[10a. Have the ECF ever contacted BBC News Online and asked them why they have no regular chess coverage in a news service which is otherwise probably the most comprehensive in the world?]
PS This post originally appeared on Tuesday 24 July but as it was overtaken by other news that day, we've bumped it back to the top.....
Tuesday, July 24, 2007
ECF Website of the Year: Winners!
Some rather good news has just come my way: we have won the English Chess Federation's Website of the Year Award for 2007. This is the icing crowning the cake of an all-round excellent season for Streatham and Brixton Chess Club: in the London League our Second Team won their second promotion in two years, up to Division 2, whilst our First Team in Division 1 finished fourth despite being nearly relegated the season before; our third place in the Surrey Trophy was our best result this century in that competition; and last but not least, we finished Champions of the Croydon League Division 1, with second places in Divisions 2 and 3.
And what of the blog? Launched in November 2006, the blog has served us in more than one way: as a new way of circulating news, as a forum for chess chat and debate, as an opportunity for those of us with writerly persuasions to reach a wider audience, as a form of publicity that's helped us reach new members and so help stimulate chess activity in south London, and much else besides. But the best way to get a sense for the blog's content, if you're new here, is to sample some of it, of course. So with that in mind...
... here's a brief tour. We start with a health warning: 3.Bb5 can kill! But on a more cheerful note, you might have come closer to beating Kasparov than you thought. And even if not, we on this blog have enjoyed seeing very good players make very bad moves more than once, whilst also analysing how to use computers to make the most out of our own games. And if that's all a bit much, how about a nice, simple puzzle to have fun solving? Or you could just put your feet up and watch some chess on television? Or mix the two.
More seriously, here's my solution to the draw problem in chess, whilst here's Grandmaster Juan Manuel Bellón López's. And oh, if you're not only new here but new to chess, you might want to find out before reading on What is Chess? Those already familiar might want to find out what Bughouse is instead, and what Aronian's doing playing it. Incidentally, do you like cats? And here's some on the board detective work, and quite extraordinarily here's some off.
That should give you a taster of what our chess blog offers, the variety and diversity. You can find the rest of our archives linked to in the sidebar - here is this month's - and we update the blog more or less daily. Of course, down to earth, local posts are important to us especially, whether about stellar efforts at the top of the London League, or visiting our friends and neighbours at Streatham Chess Club. Finally, some posts are more about the comments, and a little personal bragging never hurt anyone.
I hope you've enjoyed this little introduction for new visitors - recap for our regulars - to the English Chess Federation Website of the Year, 2007!
And what of the blog? Launched in November 2006, the blog has served us in more than one way: as a new way of circulating news, as a forum for chess chat and debate, as an opportunity for those of us with writerly persuasions to reach a wider audience, as a form of publicity that's helped us reach new members and so help stimulate chess activity in south London, and much else besides. But the best way to get a sense for the blog's content, if you're new here, is to sample some of it, of course. So with that in mind...
... here's a brief tour. We start with a health warning: 3.Bb5 can kill! But on a more cheerful note, you might have come closer to beating Kasparov than you thought. And even if not, we on this blog have enjoyed seeing very good players make very bad moves more than once, whilst also analysing how to use computers to make the most out of our own games. And if that's all a bit much, how about a nice, simple puzzle to have fun solving? Or you could just put your feet up and watch some chess on television? Or mix the two.
More seriously, here's my solution to the draw problem in chess, whilst here's Grandmaster Juan Manuel Bellón López's. And oh, if you're not only new here but new to chess, you might want to find out before reading on What is Chess? Those already familiar might want to find out what Bughouse is instead, and what Aronian's doing playing it. Incidentally, do you like cats? And here's some on the board detective work, and quite extraordinarily here's some off.
That should give you a taster of what our chess blog offers, the variety and diversity. You can find the rest of our archives linked to in the sidebar - here is this month's - and we update the blog more or less daily. Of course, down to earth, local posts are important to us especially, whether about stellar efforts at the top of the London League, or visiting our friends and neighbours at Streatham Chess Club. Finally, some posts are more about the comments, and a little personal bragging never hurt anyone.
I hope you've enjoyed this little introduction for new visitors - recap for our regulars - to the English Chess Federation Website of the Year, 2007!
Monday, July 23, 2007
Oooh Controversial
Test Match Cricket - the sport of the gods.
England are playing India right now, well they would be if it wasn't raining, and due to the rather tedious necessity to earn a living I've been following the game via the Guardian's ball-by-ball coverage.
During the afternoon session the conversation between commentator and readers (via email) got on to the subject of worst managed teams in sport. After a few run of the mill suggestions - Welsh Rugby Team, Leeds United, US Ryder Cup side of recent years etc - one Richard Woods wrote in to say,
"The most shambolically managed sports team is the England Men's Chess team, assuming you accept Chess as a sport ... The managers have made English chess the laughing stock of the chess world."
(see over 80 from the afternoon commentary via the link above).
Is that true? I know England used to win medals at Chess Olympiads and we don't now, but what is a realistic expectation of our national side? Are England underachieving?
England are playing India right now, well they would be if it wasn't raining, and due to the rather tedious necessity to earn a living I've been following the game via the Guardian's ball-by-ball coverage.
During the afternoon session the conversation between commentator and readers (via email) got on to the subject of worst managed teams in sport. After a few run of the mill suggestions - Welsh Rugby Team, Leeds United, US Ryder Cup side of recent years etc - one Richard Woods wrote in to say,
"The most shambolically managed sports team is the England Men's Chess team, assuming you accept Chess as a sport ... The managers have made English chess the laughing stock of the chess world."
(see over 80 from the afternoon commentary via the link above).
Is that true? I know England used to win medals at Chess Olympiads and we don't now, but what is a realistic expectation of our national side? Are England underachieving?
Sunday, July 22, 2007
GeekOut Overdrive III
TV Programme:
Blake's 7
Previous appearances on the S&BCC blog:
Here and here.
Episode under consideration today:
Games (Series 4)
Plot Details:
Blah Blah ... Feldan crystals ... Blah Blah ... source of unlimited energy ... Blah Blah ... steal them from the Federation.
Chess content:
A computer called Gambit.
A scientist called Belkov who likes to play a chess-like game against his computer.
see
2:23 to 3:01
4:49 to 5:19
6:36 to 6:54
below.
More chess related video clips available here.
Blake's 7
Previous appearances on the S&BCC blog:
Here and here.
Episode under consideration today:
Games (Series 4)
Plot Details:
Blah Blah ... Feldan crystals ... Blah Blah ... source of unlimited energy ... Blah Blah ... steal them from the Federation.
Chess content:
A computer called Gambit.
A scientist called Belkov who likes to play a chess-like game against his computer.
see
2:23 to 3:01
4:49 to 5:19
6:36 to 6:54
below.
More chess related video clips available here.
Saturday, July 21, 2007
A Word From Our Sponsors II
Many moons ago in Showdown in Seville, a book about the 1987 World Championship match by Keene, Goodman, and Spanier, I read the following:-
... chess players huddled around the nearest TV set for the unveiling of Kasparov's commercial for Schweppes tonic water. This was ... the first ever Western TV advertisement to feature a Soviet citizen, and it also contained appearances by a blonde Finnish model and a French actor famous throughout Spain as "Mr. Schweppes" for the last nine years.
Kasparov is seated at the board when suddenly Mr. Schweppes arrives. They recognise each other and exchange greetings. Kasparov opens a bottle of tonic water with a knight he lifts off the chess board. Mr. Schweppes tries to copy Kasparov's technique but fails, and Kasparov begins to laugh. As the 20-second segment ends, the drink is described as "Kasparov's Passion".
"We decided to do a TV commercial when we realised what a very good actor he was," commented John de Zulueta, the marketing director for Schweppes in Spain. "At first we wanted to use a very serious type of story, but we changed it when we saw that Gary had such an effervescent type of personality," he added. The deal was struck by Andrew Page, Kasparov's British manager. A storyboard of the commercial had been sent to the Soviet sports committee for their prior approval.
Twenty years later I managed to find a clip of the advert on YouTube.
That's not Gazza's voice either is it? What's up with these advertising folk?
More chess related video clips available here
... chess players huddled around the nearest TV set for the unveiling of Kasparov's commercial for Schweppes tonic water. This was ... the first ever Western TV advertisement to feature a Soviet citizen, and it also contained appearances by a blonde Finnish model and a French actor famous throughout Spain as "Mr. Schweppes" for the last nine years.
Kasparov is seated at the board when suddenly Mr. Schweppes arrives. They recognise each other and exchange greetings. Kasparov opens a bottle of tonic water with a knight he lifts off the chess board. Mr. Schweppes tries to copy Kasparov's technique but fails, and Kasparov begins to laugh. As the 20-second segment ends, the drink is described as "Kasparov's Passion".
"We decided to do a TV commercial when we realised what a very good actor he was," commented John de Zulueta, the marketing director for Schweppes in Spain. "At first we wanted to use a very serious type of story, but we changed it when we saw that Gary had such an effervescent type of personality," he added. The deal was struck by Andrew Page, Kasparov's British manager. A storyboard of the commercial had been sent to the Soviet sports committee for their prior approval.
Twenty years later I managed to find a clip of the advert on YouTube.
That's not Gazza's voice either is it? What's up with these advertising folk?
More chess related video clips available here
Friday, July 20, 2007
A Word From Our Sponsors
Imagine for a moment you are responsible for creating this advert.
You put some thought to it and create an homage to Kubrik's 2001: A Space Odyssey (cheerfully ignoring the cynics who prefer the term "blatant rip-off").
You even go out of your way to get Kasparov himself to take part. Sure he's more expensive than some random jobbing actor but he adds authenticity and credibility. Aside from anything else you get some spin-off publicity from the Kasparov v IBM match of the late 1990s.
You arrange to put the advert out for the first time during the half time break of the Superbowl - the most expensive air time in the calendar and therefore the most prestigious occasion to release a commercial.
Hmmmm ... then you suddenly realise Gazza's (perfectly clear to everybody else) accent sounds a bit, well, foreign and decide to get the aforementioned random jobbing actor to do the two lines of dialogue and dub-in his voice instead.
So I guess you have to ask yourself, have you got a very low opinion of the audience of Super Bowl watchers or is it just that you're a total feckwit?
In the words of the late Bill Hicks:-
By the way, if anyone here is in advertising or marketing ... kill yourself. Thank you, thank you, thanks. Just a little thought, I'm just trying to plant seeds. Maybe, maybe one day, they'll take root - I don't know. You try, you do what you can.
Kill yourself. Seriously, though, if you are, do. Aaaah, no really, there's no rationalization for what you do, and you are Satan's little helpers. OK? Kill yourself, seriously. You are the ruiner of all things good, seriously. No, this is not a joke. You're going, "There's going to be a joke coming", there's no [rude word]ing joke coming. You are Satan's spawn filling the world with bile and garbage. You are [rude word]ed and you are [rude word]ing us. Kill yourself. It's the only way to save your [rude word]ing soul, kill yourself.
Planting seeds. I know all the marketing people are going, "He's doing a joke." There's no joke here whatsoever. Suck a tailpipe, [rude word]ing hang yourself, borrow a gun from a Yank friend - I don't care how you do it. Rid the world of your evil [rude word]ing machinations.
Have a good weekend everybody.
More chess related video clips available here
Thursday, July 19, 2007
Mate in three
After beating the 2477-rated Kuzhuharov in the second round at Benasque - easily the strongest player I've ever beaten and one of the world's strongest players without a master title - I went down to a Georgian grandmaster, not without a fight, the following round and then, expecting a relatively easier game in round four, found myself paired with the legendary Ulf Andersson, still rated 2520. The game was somewhat one-sided: one really shouldn't mess about in the Symmetrical English against someone who knew its intricacies before I learned the moves. Mind you, the imbalance in chessplaying ability may also have been a contributory factor.
Position after 25...Nd3-e1
The game ended a little ignominiously: I played 26.Ne2 to threaten the knight and prevent Qd4 check, but neglected to observe that 26...Qg2 was mate.
Checkmate is rare, of course, at tournament level, even among club players. Bent Larsen once wrote that he was amused how players would play on in hopeless positions until the last move before mate, and then resign. We laugh, but we all like to avoid it and I think that's the first checkmate I've suffered in a serious game since Adam Hunt did it to me in a Kidlington congress not far short of a decade ago.
Anyway, next round I did have a slightly easier opponent, one Aranzana, rated 2001 (it's hard to translate Spanish players' grades directly into ECF but I'd estimate 2000 as roughly equivalent to 160). Easier though it might have been, and despite a good opening, I made heavy weather of the game and spent much of the middlegame hanging on for a draw, but eventually my opponent seemed to lose his way and I found mine again.
Position after 31...Qf6-h4
It ended faster than I thought: I was just contemplating how I should reply to a move like 32.Qd2 when he put the queen on e5 instead, interfering perhaps with plans to check on h1 but also creating the possibility of 32....Qf2 mate.
Two checkmates in consecutive games: not so much unusual as practically unheard of at this level. Indeed, if any reader has had two consecutive competitive games end in mate since their earliest junior days, I'd be interested to hear of it.
But there's more. In the next two rounds I drew, both times against players I was expected to beat comfortably, and in the eighth round, against Camarero (rated 1981) I once again played very poorly but benefitted from my opponent's attempts to win the game when he had a draw for the taking. After 25...b5? (this game and the others can be viewed below) it all went horribly wrong horribly fast.
Position after 32...c3-c2
I think Black believed he was still in the game here, though reality had mostly dawned when he took twenty minutes over his thirty-first move and there are, in fact, a variety of ways for White to win. Anyway, my choice was 33.Rxg7+ Kh8 34.Rg8+ Qxg8 35.Qxg8+ Kxg8 36.a8Q+ Kf7 37.Ra7+ and now the inevitable can only be delayed by one move with 37...Rb7 but he played 37...Kg6 so I played 38.Qe8. He still didn't realise quite how completely the picture had changed: he sat there for maybe a minute working out where to hide the king before realising that there was nowhere to hide it and he was, in fact, in checkmate.
Three checkmates in three consecutive decisive games in a serious international tournament: have you ever seen the like?
Position after 25...Nd3-e1
The game ended a little ignominiously: I played 26.Ne2 to threaten the knight and prevent Qd4 check, but neglected to observe that 26...Qg2 was mate.
Checkmate is rare, of course, at tournament level, even among club players. Bent Larsen once wrote that he was amused how players would play on in hopeless positions until the last move before mate, and then resign. We laugh, but we all like to avoid it and I think that's the first checkmate I've suffered in a serious game since Adam Hunt did it to me in a Kidlington congress not far short of a decade ago.
Anyway, next round I did have a slightly easier opponent, one Aranzana, rated 2001 (it's hard to translate Spanish players' grades directly into ECF but I'd estimate 2000 as roughly equivalent to 160). Easier though it might have been, and despite a good opening, I made heavy weather of the game and spent much of the middlegame hanging on for a draw, but eventually my opponent seemed to lose his way and I found mine again.
Position after 31...Qf6-h4
It ended faster than I thought: I was just contemplating how I should reply to a move like 32.Qd2 when he put the queen on e5 instead, interfering perhaps with plans to check on h1 but also creating the possibility of 32....Qf2 mate.
Two checkmates in consecutive games: not so much unusual as practically unheard of at this level. Indeed, if any reader has had two consecutive competitive games end in mate since their earliest junior days, I'd be interested to hear of it.
But there's more. In the next two rounds I drew, both times against players I was expected to beat comfortably, and in the eighth round, against Camarero (rated 1981) I once again played very poorly but benefitted from my opponent's attempts to win the game when he had a draw for the taking. After 25...b5? (this game and the others can be viewed below) it all went horribly wrong horribly fast.
Position after 32...c3-c2
I think Black believed he was still in the game here, though reality had mostly dawned when he took twenty minutes over his thirty-first move and there are, in fact, a variety of ways for White to win. Anyway, my choice was 33.Rxg7+ Kh8 34.Rg8+ Qxg8 35.Qxg8+ Kxg8 36.a8Q+ Kf7 37.Ra7+ and now the inevitable can only be delayed by one move with 37...Rb7 but he played 37...Kg6 so I played 38.Qe8. He still didn't realise quite how completely the picture had changed: he sat there for maybe a minute working out where to hide the king before realising that there was nowhere to hide it and he was, in fact, in checkmate.
Three checkmates in three consecutive decisive games in a serious international tournament: have you ever seen the like?
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
Double Bishop Sacrifice III
Recently (first here then here) I’ve been looking at double bishop sacrifices.
In many of the examples I’ve found the combination runs something like
1. Bxh7+ 2. Qh5+ 3. Bxg7 4. Q (g-file somewhere with check) 5. R (to third or fourth rank ready to swing over to the h-file).
It’s not always like that though. Take a look at Alekhine- Drewitt from 85 years ago.
Black resigned because after 22. … Kxg7, 23. Qg4 mates in short order.
But what happens if instead Black tries to hang on with 22… f6?
In many of the examples I’ve found the combination runs something like
1. Bxh7+ 2. Qh5+ 3. Bxg7 4. Q (g-file somewhere with check) 5. R (to third or fourth rank ready to swing over to the h-file).
It’s not always like that though. Take a look at Alekhine- Drewitt from 85 years ago.
Black resigned because after 22. … Kxg7, 23. Qg4 mates in short order.
But what happens if instead Black tries to hang on with 22… f6?
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
Monday, July 16, 2007
The March of the Machine
Ever since I got my copy of Fritz, I have renamed computer chess programmes collectively as The Destroyers of Dreams. That Bxb5+ sacrifice which took you ten minutes to spot, another ten minutes for your half-shaking hand to play, and soon a crunching victory was yours!- you come home grinning, but twenty seconds later the computer flashes up the forced draw your opponent failed to find, you too in the post-mortem after. Or you arrive home thinking, I positionally outplayed him, it went from equal to plus-equal to +/- and then I mastered that endgame; such a nice, smooth game. But the evaluation graph shows mountains and valleys, up and down like a hyperactive yo-yo - for in the midst of your vague shuffling, each of you missed dramatic pawn breaks all over the board. Your smooth game has been turned into the battle of two blind toddlers, each armed with drooping swords, dripping with rust.
Personal vanity aside, chess computers are busy destroying broader chess dreams too. The most conspicuous is the idea humans are good at it. That with our intuition, imagination, fighting spirit, understanding, we transcend brute force and formulas and at our best, make an art out of a game. Of course - we can make excuses for each of mankind's losses to the computers - Kasparov was distracted by the possibility IBM were cheating, Kramnik's mate-in-one blunder was a total freak, and how it all might have been different, and so on. But the fact is, we have to make these excuses every time, not just as a one off.
The latest not-just-a-one-off, which finished last week, was nonetheless an interesting encounter. As previewed, the computer Rybka would take on Grandmaster Jaan Ehlvest with considerable odds. An opening book only going to move 3. No tablebases. Black in each game. Half the starting clock time, a third the increment. Quite good odds for the human, you might think?
Not really, as it turned out. Ehlvest drew three and lost three. You can find the often-interesting games, a brief report and comments here on the Rybka Forum, whilst hopefully Ehlvest will update his blog with more comments than currently there. Finally, there was a particularly interesting interview at chessvibes with Rybka's creator Vasik Rajlich and Larry Kaufman, who organised the match. Here's one choice quote from many:
Or is that a new chess nightmare?
PS, for our UK readers. If you prefer chess on TV to chess with computers, there is a programme called "Make Me a Genius", part of the My Brilliant Brain series, on Channel 5 tonight from 9pm to 10pm. It's all about Susan Polgar, and The Radio Times says: "This episode focuses on 38-year-old Susan Polgar, the first female chess grandmaster, whose incredible story suggests that genius does not always have to be innate, but can be taught. How has Susan trained her brain to such a formidable degree?" The rather odd thing here is that Susan Polgar is not a genius, so her story actually suggests the exact opposite conclusion: no matter how much training someone has, you need genius to be a genius. Thanks to Angus for the tip-off.
Personal vanity aside, chess computers are busy destroying broader chess dreams too. The most conspicuous is the idea humans are good at it. That with our intuition, imagination, fighting spirit, understanding, we transcend brute force and formulas and at our best, make an art out of a game. Of course - we can make excuses for each of mankind's losses to the computers - Kasparov was distracted by the possibility IBM were cheating, Kramnik's mate-in-one blunder was a total freak, and how it all might have been different, and so on. But the fact is, we have to make these excuses every time, not just as a one off.
The latest not-just-a-one-off, which finished last week, was nonetheless an interesting encounter. As previewed, the computer Rybka would take on Grandmaster Jaan Ehlvest with considerable odds. An opening book only going to move 3. No tablebases. Black in each game. Half the starting clock time, a third the increment. Quite good odds for the human, you might think?
Not really, as it turned out. Ehlvest drew three and lost three. You can find the often-interesting games, a brief report and comments here on the Rybka Forum, whilst hopefully Ehlvest will update his blog with more comments than currently there. Finally, there was a particularly interesting interview at chessvibes with Rybka's creator Vasik Rajlich and Larry Kaufman, who organised the match. Here's one choice quote from many:
any match between a human and Rybka where Rybka doesn’t give a material handicap must be played with a tiny Rybka book just to keep things reasonably competitive. Even this doesn’t seem to be enough, so probably, we will look in the direction of material handicaps now.Perhaps rather than destroy dreams, a different dream is emerging: that the Romantic, amateur, café-based era of chess will be reborn - but instead of a human defeating ten opponents at once, each at pawn-odds, and with a game of whist on the side, a little laptop performs this miracle instead, and the line of patzers-victims consists solely of super-Grandmasters.
Or is that a new chess nightmare?
PS, for our UK readers. If you prefer chess on TV to chess with computers, there is a programme called "Make Me a Genius", part of the My Brilliant Brain series, on Channel 5 tonight from 9pm to 10pm. It's all about Susan Polgar, and The Radio Times says: "This episode focuses on 38-year-old Susan Polgar, the first female chess grandmaster, whose incredible story suggests that genius does not always have to be innate, but can be taught. How has Susan trained her brain to such a formidable degree?" The rather odd thing here is that Susan Polgar is not a genius, so her story actually suggests the exact opposite conclusion: no matter how much training someone has, you need genius to be a genius. Thanks to Angus for the tip-off.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Chess on the Telly II
Frasier gets an antique chess set ...
... plays chess with his dad ...
... then conducts a post mortem in the coffee shop. Watch out for the unlikely reference to the Panov-Botvinnik attack.
PS: Check our video index for more clips
... plays chess with his dad ...
... then conducts a post mortem in the coffee shop. Watch out for the unlikely reference to the Panov-Botvinnik attack.
PS: Check our video index for more clips
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