This article first appeared in the St. Louis Beacon: So, I beat a Grandmaster in chess. And I think I’m embarrassed about it.
The game happened just last week. It was official; it went straight to the attention of the United States Chess Federation, and if you think I’m going to spill those proverbial beans in this single column, I offer you a chuckle, dear reader. You’ve misunderstood why I’m here.
No, I am certainly going to milk this story for decades to come. Decades. And you had better believe that fish will get just a little bit bigger every time I catch it. In fact, while I do remember it was raining last Tuesday, I already cannot recall just how many cracks of thunder rippled through the sky as we played. I’m sure there was one when I pushed my rook to f4, because that’s when the lights flickered.
That said, of all the emotions that have swirled through my head in the post-game aftermath, I can honestly identify that the embarrassment is very real. I felt it just as soon as I came from the tournament hall, where a dozen stood wide-eyed, waiting for an explanation.
Liken it to a, “Why me?” feeling. We’re talking about an 800-point upset, and there are just too many chess players out there who are easily considered better than me. Who’ve been putting in more time than me. Who are just simply much more deserving than me.
But the real shame hit when I saw what was truly behind those saucer eyes: an accomplishment like this is something that they chased. And I realized then that, somewhere along the way, I had convinced myself that a win like this was just never going to happen to me. Somewhere, I had resigned.
Ten years ago might have produced a different narrative. I had a great start in competitive chess, knocking off two class-A players and losing only to local Chicago master Albert Chow in my first tournament. But, alas, it was all downhill from there. I took a beating in my second tournament, and I was lunch meat by my third. It didn’t take long before I assumed that the pieces just moved differently for some people.
Certain realities have a certain way of creeping into your understanding, over time. The special players are found young, your spark never came until college, and today that gray hair is winning. I sleep at night believing that everyone goes through such realizations in life, insert subject here.
I cannot place when it happened but, at some point, I just simply started believing that certain things were unobtainable. Impossible. And I certainly lost sight of the fact that when the pieces are first set up, everyone is equal across the board, that even the Grandmasters play by the same rules.
I implore you, casual player, set a higher goal – and don’t quit on it. I am happy to report that, since I’ve rolled that insurmountable rock, my games have felt invigorated. Rejuvenated. Perhaps, even youthful. I am once again chasing something I haven’t chased in years, suddenly reminded of why I sat down to play the game in the first place.
If you’re wondering should this inspirational message be translated to other things in life: Well, not everyone can beat a Grandmaster.
Personally, I’m not looking back. I have already set sights on my second GM scalp this week in Timur Gareev – though under slightly different circumstances. The 25-year-old is the third-ranked player in the United States, in town for the 2013 U.S. Championships, which will take place in the Central West End from May 2 to May 13.
Gareev flew into St. Louis a couple days early to practice for a world record he is chasing: By New Year’s Eve, he aims to play 64 chess boards simultaneously, blindfolded. And that’s not a typo. He plans to sit with a blindfold on, facing 64 boards, playing each game with literally nothing else but his mind, while players feed him moves such as “rook to f4.” This week at the Saint Louis Chess Club, he will warm up with just 33 boards.
Then again, maybe certain people do have a gift.
Brian Jerauld is a chess instructor to area students, including his own children, and a student of the game himself through the Chess Club and Scholastic Center of Saint Louis. He is also a Mizzou journalist with a decade of experience writing about boats, sports and other odds and ends. This column is a weekly look around St. Louis, the U.S. Capital of Chess.