Now the dust is settling, I thought it would be interesting to share views on the just-completed World Chess Championship. Was it an heroic struggle? Or a debacle? I have heard and seen both views expressed by chessplayers much more knowledgeable (not to mention higher-rated) than I am.
With some trepidation and for what it's worth (?), here, upon reflection is my own assessment as a prompt to invite others to share theirs:
First, it has to be said that allowance must be made for the incredible stress involved in playing a match at world championship level. History has shown that it can make strong men weep and tactical wizards blunder. The pressure is surely exascerbated in a short match of fixed duration and, worse, in subsequent rapidplay tiebreaks. As one who has lived through extremely stressful experiences in other fields, I am hesitant to be critical of champion or challenger. That said, some who have played at that level (notably and publicly, Kasparov) have been caustic in their comments about the match just completed.
Second, objectively and with the benefit of time (and computer programmes) to analyze the games, one suspects the quality of play in this match was certainly not the highest, although perhaps not the worst, in modern chess history. It may be that in this age of intensive computer preparation by teams of assistants it is inevitable that the depth of preparation should take much of the element of surprise out of the opening play. It will be most interesting to hear the considered judgment of recognized opening experts on the results in this match. Based on my limited personal familiarity with two of the opening systems---Anand's chebanko-style defence against d4 and his Moscow against the Sicilian---I am not overly impressed. In the case of the latter, the b3 line is known as rather unambitious---the only bright spot was Gelfand's improvised pawn sacrifices, beginning with c4, which showed a deep appreciation of the value of activity over material. In the case of the latter, it was only in game seven, if memory serves, that either player (in this case Gelfand) came up with new and promising ideas resulting in the first win of the match and arguable the best game over all.
Third, world champion Anand's play was risk averse in the extreme. This may have been largely driven by the format of the match. Knowing that a tie would be broken in quickplay, in which Anand has historically had a huge advantage over Gelfand (9 to 1 in decisive games), his strategy was clearly to avoid losing at all cost during the classic games. After the match, he appeared to be irritated as he rejected the suggestion that he was playing deliberately to get to the tiebreaks but did observe something to the effect that he was not about to do anything stupid during the classic games. The result, perhaps predictable, was that Anand's play was solid and, I believe, largely blunder-free but also uninspired, even insipid.
Fourth, even allowing for the circumstances, I was surprised by the extent to which Gelfand, despite his great experience, including high level matches, was prone to blunders. The experts will judge whether in the first six games he was heroic in holding back the pressure from Anand or, rather, timid in his choices. After his fine win in game seven, his play in game eight was most encouraging, until he blundered with Qf3 and Qh1 (although to be fair, some superGM commentators were equally taken by surprise by Anand's Qf2), after which he seemed to lack the confidence to enter seriously unbalanced positions. In the rapidplay, Gelfand's play was astonishingly weak, particularly in the technical elements of endgame play, in which one would expect him to be almost computer-like. In the second game, he managed to lose a dead drawn ending and, most surprising, in the final game he made a rudimentary blunder in a simple rook and pawn ending (if there is such a thing) with his bizarre Rh7, thereby putting his rook just close enough to the White King to enable Anand to draw. Although he was, yet again, hopelessly short of time and clearly flustered, it is not the sort of mistake one would expect from a GM.
Finally, the organizers, sponsors and media did an unprecedented job of putting on the best possible show with respect to the elements under their control. It was not their fault that the match proved so controversial in its dullness nor that the players were, in the final press conference, so testy with the journalists attempting to ask the obvious questions. One hopes this will not discourage future organizers and sponsors.
With some trepidation and for what it's worth (?), here, upon reflection is my own assessment as a prompt to invite others to share theirs:
First, it has to be said that allowance must be made for the incredible stress involved in playing a match at world championship level. History has shown that it can make strong men weep and tactical wizards blunder. The pressure is surely exascerbated in a short match of fixed duration and, worse, in subsequent rapidplay tiebreaks. As one who has lived through extremely stressful experiences in other fields, I am hesitant to be critical of champion or challenger. That said, some who have played at that level (notably and publicly, Kasparov) have been caustic in their comments about the match just completed.
Second, objectively and with the benefit of time (and computer programmes) to analyze the games, one suspects the quality of play in this match was certainly not the highest, although perhaps not the worst, in modern chess history. It may be that in this age of intensive computer preparation by teams of assistants it is inevitable that the depth of preparation should take much of the element of surprise out of the opening play. It will be most interesting to hear the considered judgment of recognized opening experts on the results in this match. Based on my limited personal familiarity with two of the opening systems---Anand's chebanko-style defence against d4 and his Moscow against the Sicilian---I am not overly impressed. In the case of the latter, the b3 line is known as rather unambitious---the only bright spot was Gelfand's improvised pawn sacrifices, beginning with c4, which showed a deep appreciation of the value of activity over material. In the case of the latter, it was only in game seven, if memory serves, that either player (in this case Gelfand) came up with new and promising ideas resulting in the first win of the match and arguable the best game over all.
Third, world champion Anand's play was risk averse in the extreme. This may have been largely driven by the format of the match. Knowing that a tie would be broken in quickplay, in which Anand has historically had a huge advantage over Gelfand (9 to 1 in decisive games), his strategy was clearly to avoid losing at all cost during the classic games. After the match, he appeared to be irritated as he rejected the suggestion that he was playing deliberately to get to the tiebreaks but did observe something to the effect that he was not about to do anything stupid during the classic games. The result, perhaps predictable, was that Anand's play was solid and, I believe, largely blunder-free but also uninspired, even insipid.
Fourth, even allowing for the circumstances, I was surprised by the extent to which Gelfand, despite his great experience, including high level matches, was prone to blunders. The experts will judge whether in the first six games he was heroic in holding back the pressure from Anand or, rather, timid in his choices. After his fine win in game seven, his play in game eight was most encouraging, until he blundered with Qf3 and Qh1 (although to be fair, some superGM commentators were equally taken by surprise by Anand's Qf2), after which he seemed to lack the confidence to enter seriously unbalanced positions. In the rapidplay, Gelfand's play was astonishingly weak, particularly in the technical elements of endgame play, in which one would expect him to be almost computer-like. In the second game, he managed to lose a dead drawn ending and, most surprising, in the final game he made a rudimentary blunder in a simple rook and pawn ending (if there is such a thing) with his bizarre Rh7, thereby putting his rook just close enough to the White King to enable Anand to draw. Although he was, yet again, hopelessly short of time and clearly flustered, it is not the sort of mistake one would expect from a GM.
Finally, the organizers, sponsors and media did an unprecedented job of putting on the best possible show with respect to the elements under their control. It was not their fault that the match proved so controversial in its dullness nor that the players were, in the final press conference, so testy with the journalists attempting to ask the obvious questions. One hopes this will not discourage future organizers and sponsors.
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