Fragile grandmaster

If Lahiri Atanu’s brief loss of form cost him the title at the Sarawak open chess tournament last month, I can only say that that was just a small matter. Players everywhere experience it all the time. It doesn’t matter whether they are amateurs at the game or the professional chess players, it just happens.

Just about two weeks ago, something of this nature happened in faraway Italy. The only difference was that it happened this time to a high-ranking professional chess player who was taking part in a top-level chess competition.

That it ever happened to Vassily Ivanchuk, a grandmaster from Ukraine, should not come as a surprise to anyone familiar with the chess world. Most everyone knows that Ivanchuk can be highly emotional at the chess board.

He can scale the greatest heights in his games and at the next moment, plunge into the deepest depths. 

A few years ago, he got so emotionally pissed off after losing a vital game for his team at the Chess Olympiad in Dresden that he refused to give a scheduled urine sample. At that time, the World Chess Federation had just made it compulsory for chess players to take random dope tests in compliance with regulations of the International Olympics Committee.

He got off very lightly. After a hearing, the World Chess Federation concluded that he was not to blame for refusing. But that incident cemented Ivanchuk’s reputation as being a highly fragile chess player. Perhaps he’s even the most highly fragile professional chess player in the world. He is so into the game that an important loss of form can turn him into a blubbering mess.

Witness what happened last September in the semi-finals of the Chess World Cup in Khanty-Mansiysk. It was the critical third game of a play-off match. Ivanchuk thought he was winning and fell into his opponent’s psychological trap. He played a two-move blunder and lost the game and the match. A highly distressed Ivanchuk left the chess board, covering his face with his hands. Not many chess players openly display their emotions so much.

And so we fast forward four months to January 2012. This was the traditional annual invitational tournament at Reggio Emilia in northern Italy. Ivanchuk had been invited to play in this double round-robin event, as were also Alexander Morozevich, Hikaru Nakamura, Nikita Vitiugov, Fabiano Caruana and Anish Giri.

Perhaps the matter that he was the highest rated among the six players caused him some uneasiness but the fact was that he did not play like the tournament favourite. At the middle point of the tournament, he was lying in third place behind Nakamura and Morozevich, but only just. There were still hopes of overtaking them.

Then in the sixth round Ivanchuk lost to Giri, the lowest ranked player among the six participants. It was a strange game. To all of us watching it through the Internet, it was as if Ivanchuk was willingly inviting his opponent to break up his pawn formation. Giri seized upon it, then tightened his grip around the loose holes in Ivanchuk’s game and collected an easy win. 

Ivanchuk looked groggy after that. In the seventh round he lost again, this time to Vitiugov. He played a combination, not realising that there was a hole in his analysis. Vitiugov saw the refutation, played it and suddenly, Ivanchuk found himself down by a piece with no compensation.

It became very clear by now that the Ukrainian grandmaster was not only groggy but probably punch drunk as well. His play became suicidal. In the eighth round he was thoroughly outplayed by Caruana. The Italian had a mass of pawns in the centre and his rook had invaded Ivanchuk’s territory. If he wasn’t already losing, he would be within two or three more moves.

So what did Ivanchuk do in this dire position? He simply chucked everything away. He started to give up every single one of his remaining pieces. It began with him exchanging his queen for his opponent’s bishop, then a rook for his opponent’s pawn, followed for a bishop for another of his opponent’s pawn, and finally throwing away his remaining bishop as well.

Everyone watching was aghast. If I had done it, I would have been accused of bad sportsmanship, not losing with grace. But this was Ivanchuk and lost in his own world, he was suffering an Ivanchuk meltdown. His frayed nerves have betrayed him yet again. And in a big way too. Three lost games in a row. Any chess player would be greatly affected by this dramatic change of fortune.

But I sympathise with him. I know how it feels to lose one game after another, especially when silly mistakes are made. As I mentioned earlier, this loss of form can happen to anyone: great players like him or anonymous players like me. Trouble is, when it happens to high-profile players, everyone notices. Me, I’m safe in my anonymity.

Remarkably, Ivanchuk did never let this incident affect him. He returned to the chess board in the ninth round as if nothing had happened. A draw with Morozevich and then he joined the spectators to watch the rest of the games. 

And then in the final round of the event, inspiration came back to him. A masterful display against Nakamura ensured that he would end the game on a positive note. A man who would be first but eventually ending up fifth. That’s Ivanchuk for you.

Here is that fateful eighth round game where he imploded completely:

White: Vassily Ivanchuk

Black: Fabiano Caruana

1. d4 Nf6 2. Nf3 g6 3. Bf4 Bg7 4. e3 d6 5. h3 O-O 6. Be2 b6 7. O-O Bb7 8. c3 Nbd7 9. Bh2 Qe8 10. a4 a6 11. Na3 e5 12. Nc4 Ne4 13. Nfd2 Nxd2 14. Nxd2 Kh8 15. Qc2 f5 16. Rfe1 g5 17. Bd3 Qg6 18. f3 Rae8 19. Rf1 d5 20. a5 c5 21. g4 e4 22. fxe4 dxe4 23. Be2 f4 24. axb6 Qxb6 25. Qb3 Qa7 26. Bb5 cxd4 27. Bxd7 dxe3 28. Nc4 Rd8 29. Ba4 Rd2 and here it comes… 30. Qxb7 (see diagram) 30….Qxb7 31. Rxf4 gxf4 32. Nxd2 exd2 33. Bxf4 Rxf4 34. Bc6 Qb6+ 0-1