Day 66: How I became a Chess Champion. (without even trying)

I’m not talented enough.

When my father left, my mother cried for months on end. I was seven, my sister was four, and all I remember is my mother smoking, crying, and watching Mexican soap operas.

But then, on 10 February 1988, she came back to life.

That day, I had missed the school bus back home and had to stick around until the next one came. While I was waiting, I noticed a couple of nerdy, chubby kids who were playing chess. I approached them cautiously, and they invited me to join in their little tournament.

I had only played chess a couple of times before, but by some strange stroke of luck, I won two or three games in a row. The teacher who had been observing us, a tiny man with a sharp voice, wrote a note to my mom, asking if she would allow me to join the school chess team.

Chess team?! Was he out of his mind? I was going to be a kick-ass soccer player, the second Maradona!

I had absolutely no intention to show my mom the note, let alone to become the newest member of a nerdy chess club. But mothers always win: after I got home, she went through my bag and found the note.

And that was when she smiled.

She immediately called the school to inform them her son would join the team. She had found a meaning for my life: I was going to be the Colombian Bobby Fischer. Get ready, Russia, here comes the Latin chess master!

Hoping that chess might heal my mother’s broken heart, I joined the team.

A couple of weeks later, my mom decided to visit the chess club and talk to my chess teacher. She was a direct woman, a nervous smoker, and a fast talker. She presented herself: “Hello, I’m Gabriel’s mother. You know, the one you wanted to join the team.” Her eyes were sparkling with pride.

The little man looked at her in confusion. He clearly didn’t know who I was or why he was talking to her.

“You see, the reason I’m here today, is… Well… I just want to know… In realistic terms… How long will it take for my son to become a champion?”

I froze. Chess champion? I hardly knew how to move the pieces correctly, but my crazy mother had created an illusion in her mind to provide light in her internal darkness.

The little man looked at her and asked, “Champion of what?”

“Well, you know, chess champion.”

“School champion?”

My mom laughed. She seemed to like the little chess man.

“No, of course not, I mean world champion. World chess champion. Do you think he could become world champion one day?”

The man looked at me, then at my mom, and then at me again, while he replied: “If he has one-on-one classes, I guarantee that one day he will become a world champion. I just can’t guarantee he will live long enough.”

My mom stopped smiling.

The little man looked at her, and then continued talking.

“You see, Madam, there are two ways to become a champion. Either you are born a champion, or you learn to make tiny improvements in your game, small moves, small strategies that help you become better than your competitors. The best champions are those with an extended sequence of improvements. Have you heard of Steinitz, by any chance?”

My mom shook her head.

“Well, instead of trying to become a champion, Steinitz learned chess as a path, which made him unbeatable for more than 28 years. He was one of the top players in the world. He became the master of accumulating small advantages, which requires a lot of patience. I don’t think you or your son have that kind of patience.”

The little man turned around and walked away, leaving my mom devastated.

Even though I never became good at chess, it continued to intrigue me. Once in a while, I remembered that conversation and the small man’s words about accumulating small advantages when dealing with problems, goals, or excuses.

At one point, I found out that Steinitz did not just become the champion by accumulating small advantages. He also turned the approach to the game around. Rather than trying to beat his opponent, Steinitz’ challenge was to play the board, not the man.

It became a challenge of taking the best action at every move, not an overall strategy. He was goal-driven and considered the whole game a task-by-task process.

What if we applied this method to our excuses, goals, and problems?

Instead of trying to beat the game, what if we just solve the problem that is facing us right now, and then move to the next stage?

Rather than trying to achieve financial freedom, we can take a step that saves us money or makes us earn a bit more. Instead of buying a house ASAP, we can try to get the credit we need for a mortgage. Rather than trying to be fit, we can change our diet in small ways.

Small changes, diminutive advantages.

If you enjoyed this, get the book