Alexander Kotov (1913–1981)

A couple of nights ago, Carlsen was making Ponomariov wish he'd never been born. It was the 2009 Tal Memorial. We all watching knew that Carlsen knew exactly what he was doing as the punchdrunk Ponomariov kept staggering to his feet to make one more awful move. It was too easy.

22 Bb3. Wow. It was SO easy. Carlsen could make such a slow move in the middle of what looked like delivering a series of knockout punches? We were all too impressed for words. The kid really knows what he is doing.

And that was it. He didn't know what he was doing. Ponomariov had a reply which would have put him right back in the game. 22....Bb7

But Ponomariov didn't see that. Carlsen got back on track and won 9 moves later.

p. 52 Kotov quotes Botvinnik 'Smyslov was so demoralised by the speed with which I made my moves...'

Oh Ponomariov. Surely you've read Think Like a Grandmaster?

If you were a chess child of the 1970s you would have. Kotov was the man. Think Like a Grandmaster was the book. The one we read a hundred times. It was the one that made me feel entirely inadequate and yet I'd go back again and again for more torture. It was the book that made us all feel like Russia was the place to be.

Revisiting it as an adult I'm wondering whether I got any of the really useful advice from it that I'm nodding my head at now.

If I did, how is it that I'm sitting here now thinking 'yep, I've done that. And that. And, oh dear. I've done that one too'. The fact is, I guess, Kotov doesn't so much stop you doing the things you shouldn't, as make you know that's what you'd done.


p. 61 'On the contrary they were over-confident, complacent in their recogition of the fact that they had a marked advantage, and so their vigilance was blunted.'

1978 I'm playing a national championship, fancied to win it, though that is probably only because I'm rated better looking than the rest of the field. Arrive at the table definitely the worse for wear. Maybe even still drunk from the night before, but no matter as I'm playing Big Bertha. So called on account of Bertha being a tiny elderly lady who'd played many, many national championships and never gained so much as half a point. Never got close. Little did she know it, but her luck was about to change.

The arrogance of youth. What does it matter what I do? Any random collection of moves will be enough to win this game. I make some random moves. And suddenly, when it is too late, I realise that the position is so closed that I have no way of breaking through, not now, not if the game is to last a hundred more moves. Fuck. Sorry, I was born vulgar. Let me just repeat 'fuck' quite a few times.

We adjourn. I investigate various ways of putting myself into a losing position in order to have the possibility of a win. I go back to the game. Bertha's having none of it. I have to hand it to her. She wants this half point far more than the hypothetical one point I offer her. At 2am I grimly shake her hand. Big Bertha continued to play national championships and this was her only half point ever.

What a lesson!!! Fantastic lesson which I will take to my grave. Never again will I ever be over-confident. Kotov told me. But the bottom line is you have to do it. That's what burns it into your soul.

p. 64 '...a striving for false brilliance...is to be condemned as false practice. Moreover a striving after brilliance arises from a wrong attitude of mind.'

2001 Another national championship, but this time bridge. I'm playing the final against the then world champions. I have always taken this particular advice of Kotov to heart. Let's face it, it goes with not being over-confident, and as you now know, the last time I was that, was 1978.

Early in the match I am faced with a choice. I can play a simple finesse. I can play a squeeze. The two are even money. So, what do you do? Kotov's looking down on me, of course. He always is. 'False brilliance, false brilliance, false brilliance. Beware, beware, beware.' Okay Kotov. I hear you. No showing off against the world championships. I take the finesse. It loses. The squeeze was the way home.

So now where am I? The world champions probably think I'm not good enough to play a squeeze AND I've lost my chance to do something flash against them. Fuck, Kotov. What are you doing to me???

I have no doubt there will be more sins to confess here. That's enough for one day.

A few days later...

pp71-74 The blind spot. What are blunders all about? One of the useful pieces of advice Kotov gives here, is having analysed your variations, go back to the beginning, write down your chosen move and look at it as a patzer would. You've analysed the unobvious, now it is the obvious to consider.

Could one apply that to bridge? I'm thinking of a couple of serious sorts of blunders that are perhaps related to this whole business of looking ahead.

Early 1980s. I'm trying out for the State women's team. I think for a long time about whether to bid a grandslam or defend the sacrifice my opponents have made at the six level. Nope, I decide in the end, it isn't right to bid one...and I pass!!! I clean forget to double. My partner starts crying. 3am I wake up in a sweat, not so much about my bid, as about having made my partner cry. Note to self before going back to sleep: give up women's bridge.

Early 2000s. I'm in an international tournament in Japan. I ask my partner for aces, he responds and I think for a long time about whether to bid a slam. Eventually I decide not to...and I pass!!! We are not in our suit, we are in his blackwood response. Boys don't cry. Male partner, in a 4-2 fit at the five level, comes heroically close to making. I have to explain to our teammates. They are New Zealanders. Have you seen Once Were Warriors?

I don't know if one would be allowed to write down a 'move' in bridge in this way, but for now I don't see why not.

Then, there is this fascinating blindspot which has never happened to me, but to several of my partners, so one assumes it is a commonplace.

Late 1980s. It's the Zonal in NZ. My partner Michael is in 3NT. One by one he calls for me to lead from the suit he is cashing. Eventually he simply forgets to call for the last one. It is a crucial trick, he's lost contact with it for eternity, and now he goes down. Ouch.

Early 2000s. It's the playoff to be the State open team. My partner Chris, is in a slam, and he simply forgets to cash a winner which is now stranded in dummy. One down. This shakes me up more than him, so for the last set I sit myself out and leave him in. We win the playoff.

Mid 2000s. It's Stage 3 of the Australian Teams Trials. We are not in contention, but how we play this match may well decide who gets to play in an Australian team for the Commonwealth championships. My partner, Simon, is in 3NT, I'm cashing his long suit one by one as he calls it. Eventually he simply forgets to call for the last card in the suit. 3NT redoubled goes down when it was gin. Our opponents get into the team.

Having read Kotov I'm coming to the conclusion these are all about the same thing: looking ahead and then forgetting the obvious. In this case, as can happen in chess too, one forgets exactly where one is up to and plays moves critically out of order. In the case of a trick being stranded in a hand which no longer has a point of contact, this is disaster!

There is an obvious simple answer in the case of running long suits. Declarer should not call for them one at a time, at least if inclined to make this terrible error. Simply state at the start that dummy should 'run the suit'. This would be music to my ears as I have become habitually nervous when declarer is running my suit in dummy. Big sigh of relief when that last one hits the deck.

I recall, further, one time when I also failed to cash a long cashing suit winner in dummy. It was like this. Important tournament: Summer Nationals in Brighton. I call for the last of a long suit in dummy, only to discover that the card has completely disappeared! It was there. And now it isn't. There is a loser in another suit sitting in dummy instead. It transpires that my well-meaning but rather deaf partner, Joyce, has discarded one of her winners as I was drawing trumps instead of the loser I had called for. Not exactly my fault, you might say, but I should have been checking. Never blame partner if you can blame yourself.
… (mais)