September 29, 2006--Fanaticism XLXII--Pawn to King-Knight Four
At a time when we are distracted by wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, we can perhaps be excused for overlooking another struggle of epic proportions—the world chess championship match currently under way in Elista, the capital of the Russian republic of Kalmykia. Between Veselin Topalov of Bulgaria and Vladimir Kramnik of Russia. Not exactly familiar geography (Kalmykia?) or household names like Gary Kasparov or Bobby Fischer, but to chess enthusiasts this is their Super Bowl, their Shock and Awe.
Mr. Kramnik, by the way, leads the match by a score of 3-1, with 6 ½ points needed to win the title. 3-1, thus, is a very substantial lead since you earn half a point when a game is drawn; and for anyone at this level of play, to gain draws is quiet easy. So all Kramnik needs to do to win is arrange to have the next seven matches end in draws. Not exactly exciting chess, but a tried-and-true strategy.
As is cheating and/or psychological gamesmanship. You might wonder, if you are uninitiated, how a game so staid, something played out on a 20 x 20 inch hunk of wood could offer opportunities to cheat much less provide a venue in which to torture your opponent.
Well, wonder again. There is a long, very long tradition of just such behavior. Perhaps even at this match. It seems that Kramnik has been going to the bathroom upwards of 50 times, that’s five-oh, during each match; and Topalov has officially protested, claiming that while in the potty, Kramnik has been cheating. Presumably getting help from his seconds via an electronic device or something not obscene scrawled on the walls of the stall. (See NY Times article linked below.)
This is plausible since these bathroom breaks are unsupervised—players go to a private bathroom and are not accompanied by any officials. Topalov is demanding that Kramnik pee, or do the other thing, in a public rest room and that he be monitored while there. He has not as yet raised objections to the number of breaks, undoubtedly not wanting to call in a gastroenterologist or urologist or psychiatrist.
When Bobby Fischer won the title in 1972 at his match with Boris Spasky in Reykjavik, Iceland, he drove Spasky crazy by insisting on having a special chair, special lighting, special acoustics, etc. Sapsky was so perturbed by Fischer’s demands, antics, and the audacious quality of his play, that he almost had a nervous breakdown. And of course lost.
In 1978, during the world championship match between Anatoly Karpov and Viktor Korchnoi, Karpov had yogurt delivered to him during the course of individual games. Seems benign enough, particularly for Russians, but the Korchnoi people protested, contending that since it was blueberry yogurt, it constituted cheating because that particular flavor was code for certain moves.
Korchnoi, though, had some strategies of his own—he wore mirrored sunglasses during the match, claiming that he needed to do so because Karpov had the nasty habit of staring at him.
Korchnoi, by the way, lost the championship that year and then again in 1981, also to Karpov. I suppose he should have tried the yogurt scam (I prefer peach myself) rather than the sunglass ploy.
Prediction for the current match—Kramnik 6 ½; Topolov 4.
Mr. Kramnik, by the way, leads the match by a score of 3-1, with 6 ½ points needed to win the title. 3-1, thus, is a very substantial lead since you earn half a point when a game is drawn; and for anyone at this level of play, to gain draws is quiet easy. So all Kramnik needs to do to win is arrange to have the next seven matches end in draws. Not exactly exciting chess, but a tried-and-true strategy.
As is cheating and/or psychological gamesmanship. You might wonder, if you are uninitiated, how a game so staid, something played out on a 20 x 20 inch hunk of wood could offer opportunities to cheat much less provide a venue in which to torture your opponent.
Well, wonder again. There is a long, very long tradition of just such behavior. Perhaps even at this match. It seems that Kramnik has been going to the bathroom upwards of 50 times, that’s five-oh, during each match; and Topalov has officially protested, claiming that while in the potty, Kramnik has been cheating. Presumably getting help from his seconds via an electronic device or something not obscene scrawled on the walls of the stall. (See NY Times article linked below.)
This is plausible since these bathroom breaks are unsupervised—players go to a private bathroom and are not accompanied by any officials. Topalov is demanding that Kramnik pee, or do the other thing, in a public rest room and that he be monitored while there. He has not as yet raised objections to the number of breaks, undoubtedly not wanting to call in a gastroenterologist or urologist or psychiatrist.
When Bobby Fischer won the title in 1972 at his match with Boris Spasky in Reykjavik, Iceland, he drove Spasky crazy by insisting on having a special chair, special lighting, special acoustics, etc. Sapsky was so perturbed by Fischer’s demands, antics, and the audacious quality of his play, that he almost had a nervous breakdown. And of course lost.
In 1978, during the world championship match between Anatoly Karpov and Viktor Korchnoi, Karpov had yogurt delivered to him during the course of individual games. Seems benign enough, particularly for Russians, but the Korchnoi people protested, contending that since it was blueberry yogurt, it constituted cheating because that particular flavor was code for certain moves.
Korchnoi, though, had some strategies of his own—he wore mirrored sunglasses during the match, claiming that he needed to do so because Karpov had the nasty habit of staring at him.
Korchnoi, by the way, lost the championship that year and then again in 1981, also to Karpov. I suppose he should have tried the yogurt scam (I prefer peach myself) rather than the sunglass ploy.
Prediction for the current match—Kramnik 6 ½; Topolov 4.
posted by Steven Zwerling at
10:58 AM
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