Chop Wood, Carry Water: Managing Expectations

Time to next (first!) tournament (Chicago Chess Center Rated Beginners’ Open #17): 12 days.

In my sudden enthusiasm for getting into competitive chess, everything came together so quickly that I didn’t stop to think about some important questions. Namely: what am I hoping to get out of this?

I mean, that’s not exactly it. I know the why behind my decision to do this. I think it’ll be fun, and I’ll get to do something I’ve wanted to do since I was a kid. I guess a more precise wording of my question would be: what does success look like?

That turns out to be kind of tricky.

It’s tricky because my mind immediately latches on to worse case scenarios. That’s not a bad thing, per se. Risk assessment is a useful skill — in chess and in life. (God, I’m all about cliches lately, aren’t I?) So as I’m thinking about this, I keep coming back to one challenge: I need to accept the possibility that I will lose every single game at this event and know that everything will be okay even if that happens.

I’ve been trying to sit with that and internalize it. It’s hard. I’m worried that I might have too much emotional investment in the outcomes here, rather than the journey. I’m worried my perspective is all warped. I’m afraid that I might lose every game and then never want to look at a chessboard ever again.

And I don’t know how much of this is legitimate concern over my motivation and how much is just my usual anxiety. (I suspect a lot of it is anxiety.)

I really want to get to a place where I can appreciate the experience, do the best that I can, be okay if the results don’t go my way, and maybe even keep the door open to trying this again. The nature of the event is such that if I were going to fall flat on my face, this is the ideal place to do it.

On the other hand, I also don’t want to go into this thing expecting to lose. I have to back myself. I need to go in there knowing — not believing but knowing — that I can beat anyone on the day. Even a grandmaster. (I won’t be playing any grandmasters that day.) I need to be confident in my abilities, to know I can win, and then use every single move to put myself in the best possible position to win.

So, for my own sake, and for accountability’s sake, I put together a set of goals for the tournament. Here’s what I’m aiming for.

Floor: Complete the event

So pretty much, play all five games that I’m on the hook for. That’s my bare minimum. Showing the fuck up.

Low-end goal: Get at least one positive result

This can be a win or a draw. I just need to avoid losing in one of my games.

Reasonable goal: Win at least one of my games

I think I can swing that.

Stretch goal: Finish in the top half of my section

I’m competing in the U1200 + Unrated section. I looked at the results tables for past iterations of this specific event. There are usually about 15–20 players who show up to compete in this section in this event. So, finishing 10th or higher out of 20. I’m putting this as a stretch goal because it depends partially on other results, and so even earning three points (which is three wins, or two wins and two draws, or one win and four draws) could very well not be enough to finish in the top half even though it would be a decent performance in its own right.

Shoot your shot: Earn 4.5 points

Because if I get at least 4.5 points (four wins and one draw) I win a free chess clock. Come to mama.

This is one of those times where following sports — as a journalist and as a fan — is proving useful. Listening to athletes talk about having to bounce back after a tough loss used to sound cliched and fake. Now I think I’m getting something out of it.

I covered a soccer game this past weekend. The Chicago Red Stars suffered a tough 3–2 loss to the defending league champions. It was their home opener, too. One player, Dani Colaprico, inadvertently helped swing the game in favor of the opposition when she was bumped in the box and he hand swung away from her and hit the ball. That led to a penalty kick for the visitors, which ended up being enough.

Previously I’ve been inured to postgame comments from athletes after they lose a game. It’s all rehearsed, it’s all the same few words over and over, etc. But, I don’t know. Something about the way Colaprico talked about needing to turn the page, about trusting the process, about controlling the things you can control and not worrying about the rest… it connected with me in a way I didn’t expect. Maybe there’s something to it.

Alright, back to work.