Improvement
From Ordinary to Extraordinary
Winning a drawn game…or finding opportunity in unlikely places
Opening
Playing in a classical (90 minutes per side) FIDE tournament at Marshall Chess Club, I had this position on move 16 against a strong player (an NYC chess coach) who was moving quickly and confidently. I had the black pieces and was down around 15 minutes on the clock (I had ~1:05 remaining; he had 1:20, having only used ~10 minutes in total). Time pressure wasn’t a factor, and I was staring at one of the most equal positions imaginable — but I found myself searching for an advantage. I can’t quite say what made be believe I could navigate my way to a slight edge, but I had a hunch that my weaknesses were manageable and I could out-calculate him (particularly if he continued playing at such a quick pace).
My opponent played Rfc1, contesting control of the open file. Naturally, a huge positional achievment would be doubling rooks on the c-file or landing a rook of my own on c2 to control the second rank. He was attempting a mirror-image plan, and I had to wrangle with both a potentially weak d5 pawn and a limited knight on a5. I calculated Bc2, Rc2, Be6, even b6 as my next move — but nothing seemed to shift the balance. He’d all but shut down my plans of doubling rooks and the game is objectively drawn according to the engine.
Then I thought — what if I do it anyway? What if I simply drop a rook on c6 and dare him to take my piece? It’s either a great move or a questionable move — as there are real possibilities of a transformed pawn structure and my a5 knight might prove vulnerable after a series of trades. At first I had ruled out Rc6 simply in virtue of b4 — wouldn’t that simply trap my knight and lose on the spot?
The knight is simply misplaced, right? If it doesn’t move, he just takes it. If it tries to jump to c4, I drop a pawn (simple math, three attackers two defenders), the d2 knight guards the b3 square — and the rook on c6 occupies what was originally the knight’s only retreating square.
Middlegame
At first glance Rc6 looks like the only move I could play that would lose the game. But calculating a bit deeper uncovers a single, precise line that held what may have been my only chance for a win.
Rac8! Can’t he just take the knight? No — the rooks now team up to double-attack the rook on c1. Should he take the knight, I take twice on c1 and win a rook for a knight (with check). In a position like this, that’s a decisive advantage and an easy endgame conversion.
A bit further into the calculation, I saw that he actually now practically must take my rook (unless he wants to cede control of the c-file). And once he did, my knight could return to c6 and recapture with tempo on the b4 pawn. Getting my opponent to play b4 looked like it might give him the game, when in fact it was the only thing that could eventually lend me a positional edge. We reached this position, and then he realized he was the one in trouble:
Suddenly, a seemingly strong pawn move (b4) on his part highlights the strength of a piece that hasn’t moved since move 6; my light-squared bishop controls what feels like every important square on the board. I could see my opponent shift in his seat a little as he realized this was no longer a simple draw. He can’t play Rc1 and pin my knight to my rook (I simply play Nxb4 and win the pawn), as the bishop guards my rook on c8. He also can’t play the simply Rb2 to guard his b-pawn., as the bishop controls that square too. His only move? b5:
The position has completely changed — a previously weak a5 knight enters his side of the court — and my rook is now very much threatening to come to c2 to claim full control. At this point, it might be especially helpful to pull up the live board in tandem (again, linked here).
He plays Bf3 to attack my supposedly weak d-pawn, but the simple pawn-to-a5 (above) anchors my knight in place, with the knight guarding the d-pawn. All of my pieces are active and control key squares. We’ve largely played the computer’s top moves throughout the game, and my opponent continues the challenge with e4:
This game required one more deep series of calculations. After evaluating every take and Nc2, I elected to go forward with the exchange on e4 (having worked out my pieces would very likely end up on good enough squares).
We exchange on e4 and I push d5 — bringing his knight into c5 where I plan to kick it away and maintain any winning chances (below):
I’m preparing b6, and if he played b6 himself, I was prepared to play Re7 — creating threats of infiltration and leaving his b and d-pawns loose. My opponent played f3 to create some room for his king and I took maybe the only concrete opportunity he gave me all game:
After b6, I had actually underestimated Na6 — the moving looking so unnatural as it immediately drops a pawn. But I did spend a non-trivial amount of time on Na5, given it would leave my rook passive on a6 (should I elect to chase down the extra pawn. Rejecting Na5 perhaps a moment too quickly, my opponent made the game’s only mistake:
Nb3?! My rook can now enter on c3 and the game ends soon after, with my knight and rook combining to neutralize his pieces.
After the following continuation, there’s simply no hope. I’ve won the d4-pawn and his knight is completely out of squares. If he plays Nc1, I just take the knight and play Ne2+, winning back the rook and ending up a knight and pawn. The black rook dominates the position, attacking the knight, keeping his king neutralized and working together with the knight to take away every key square from white’s pieces.
After the simple Kf8, my opponent resigned. He simply can’t move a single piece; the inevitable king march to c4 highlights the severity of paralysis:
This game proved incredibly rich, filled with deep calculation and what I found to be creatively hidden positional play. The game itself (linked here) is an otherwise boring, uneventfully symmetric position after move 16 — what any chess player would call “drawish” — and yet is completely over and decided by move 31.
Most of the moves played in this game were engine-verified best moves, and it was truly enjoyable to play such a high-quality game that transformed from dull to dynamic in just a handful of moves. That rapid transformation from a game that could have reasonably ended in a handshake-draw at many moments is a remarkable feature embedded in so many games of chess.
As in many areas of life, something that looks largely uninteresting on the surface can reveal itself profound and powerful. We’ve all had a bad teacher who keeps trig to sines and cosines, but some of us are lucky to have one who went the extra mile. Matches like these are the equivalent of a calculus teacher showing you the art and application beneath the equations. It’s the longtime executive who takes you to the factory to show you how the products you’ve been selling in some remote online sphere are actually made. It’s that unexpected moment when your buttoned-up friend has one too many and finally lets it go.
“Have you ever marveled at how someone you thought was so ordinary — could suddenly become so beautiful?” Share ♟️ Chess for Life ♟️
Originally published at https://chessforlife.substack.com on February 1, 2023.
