The Search for Chess Perfection

fUR

with special articles by

Mrs. Anne Purdy and John Hanks

previously compiled and edited as CJS. Purdy

His Life, His Games, and His Writings by

John Hammond & Robertjamieson

recompiling editors Ralph Tykodi & Bob Long

Thinkers' Press, Inc. Davenport Iowa

1997

Copyright© 1997 by Thinkers' Press, Inc.

All rights reserved. No part of this work may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, except as may be expressly permitted by the 1976 Copyright Act or in writing from the publisher.

First Printing July 1997

ISBN: 0-938650-78-5

Originally titled "CJ.S. Purdy His Life, Bis Games and His Writings" with two new sections added. This edition is in algebraic notation. n;:;:::=::==r;;iiJ Typos and omissions have been corrected, and clarifications have been added in places to further increase the value to the reader on what is arguably the best "How To" chess book ever written in English. Previous© 1982 by John Hammond and Mrs. Nancy (Anne) Purdy. Reproduced and edited with permission.

Requests for permissions and republication rights should be addressed in writing to:

Thinkers' Press Inc. Editor, Bob Long P.O. Box 8 Davenport lA 52805-0008 USA

CJSO Purdy-His Writings

CONTENTS

Foreword oooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo v

Acknowledgments ooooo oo 00000000 0000 000 00 00 00000000 iv

Biographical Details 00 000 000 Oo ooooooo 00 00 ooooooo 0 viii

Tournament and Match Record 0 oo 000000 viii

1 CJ.So Purdy - His Life ooooooooooooooo 00 oo 00 000000 0 1

2 CJ.So Purdy - The Writer oooooooooooooooooooo 28

Purdy Library of Chess 0 0 0000000 0000 000 Ill

3 CJ.So Purdy - The Player 0 ooooooooo oo ooooooo 2 17

Colophon 0 000000 00 oo 000000000 000000 00 ooooooo 00 ooooooooo 306

Index of Games ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo 307

Index of Openings 0 00 ooooo 000 00 ooooo oo 000000000 00 308

Index of Articles 00000000000000 00 ooo 00 00 00 00 ooo 00 00 309

Catalog 0 00 ooooooooooooooooo 0000000 000 0000 back of book

-iii-

The Search for Chess Perfection

Acknowledgments

The publisher would like to thank Mrs. Anne

Purdy for permission to republish CJ.S. Purdy's

writings, and also Mr. John Hammond for his

permission to reproduce and modify his 1 982

work CJS. Purdy: His Life, His Games and His

Writings, acclaimed by many to be the best chess

improvement book ever written.

Thanks are also due to Prof. Ralph Tykodi

for initiating the Purdy Library Project as well as

for his superb job in co-editing this book.

This book is in algebraic notation. The

previous edition has been corrected; we regret

any remaining errors.

Ten thousand copies of the previous edition

in descriptive notation were sold to lovers of

good chess writing the world over. Even world

champion Bobby Fischer said no chess library

should be without this book.

Two new articles have been added to the

previous edition.

-iv-

Cj.S. Purdy-His Writings

FOREWORD CJ.S. Purdy was an unforgettable character to all who knew him. For many

years he was, together with Garry Koshnitsky, Australian chess, and through his writing, a world figure as well.

From his teens onwards, to his death at the age of 73, he was an inveterate writer. His journalistic activity covered 40 years, during which he wrote 12 issues each year of Australasian Chess Review, Check, and later Chess World from cover to cover. Besides this, he wrote books of importance. In Cec's case, writing was a chosen profession in which he was allowed to involve himself from an early age through the generosity of his father. Capital for his first venture was provided by Purdy senior, and the world of chess must be grateful for this.

Purdy took his writing very seriously. His humorous articles are very funny to this day, as any reader will be able to testify. Cec had a sense ofhumor, but this is not enough to make a writer ofhumor. I once lent him a satirical novel, Margaret and the Devil, translated from the Russian. He took great pains to analyze how the author obtained his effects. His teaching articles are superb.

Whenever I open an old volume of his journals, I never fail to find it completely fresh and worth reading with great attention. As an analyst he was on his own until about 1 950, when other chess writers started to catch up with him. His analysis is notable for accuracy, insight, and readability. About a year before his death I sent to him a position from an obscure opening and another in which White was supposed to have an advantage, though I could not even after lengthy analysis see this.

I paid his fee, which was always very low. I received the answer to one of the queries in a few days, but the other one took him a month. He showed that White did have an advantage, as was proven by an extremely difficult analysis. Truly a labor of love.

Cecil was also the first after Lasker to classify various types of combinational and positional motifs, thereby continuing and extending what Lasker started. He was very proud of this achievement but never received recognition for it. This is not hard to understand, as very few of his predecessors in chess history fared any better in this respect.

Purdy's 40 years of activity produced superb writing of very even quality and of lasting value. A selection of his writings is contained in this volume. These articles are timeless in their appeal, and it is hoped that the younger generation of players will read this book and their interest will be aroused in the rest of the Purdy output. In addition to these articles, CJ.S. Purdy's output comprises Among These Mates, How Euwe Won, How Fischer Won, The Return of Alekhine, Chess Made Easy, and Guide to Good Chess, all of which are out of print except the last one.

- V -


He also planned a further book on Fischer's games and a teaching book comprising most of his correspondence games.

The compiler of this book feels sure that the readers will derive as much enjoyment from it as he did from its compilation.

Organization of the Material

One of the difficulties of this compilation appeared soon after the first steps were taken, namely the enormous output oflasting value ofPurdy's nearly 60 years of chess. Ruthless culling was necessary, and it was achieved in the following manner.

Tournament Results

John van Manen, who assembled statistics relating to all of Cec's appearances and results in tournaments, advised me that he was making alternative arrangements for their publication. It was therefore necessary to include only the most important of these in this volume.

Correspondence Games

Frank Hutchings undertook the task of assembly. When looking through Cec's papers he found that Cec had practically completed a projected book containing all of his correspondence games. It was therefore decided that this posthumous work of Cec's be published separately.

Collection of His Best Games

Robertjamieson undertook to assemble Purdy's best games. It would

have been easy enough to select several times the number eventually decided on, but prudence prevailed. The choice is his. The games cannot fail to entertain, and also show the varied facets of Cec's chess style. John Hanks has provided an appreciation of Cec's playing skills as an introduction to the games section. The notes to the games are by Purdy, unless otherwise indicated.

Articles are from Australasian Chess Review, Check,

and Chess World

Maurice N ewman is the fortunate owner of copies of all ofCec's published writings and intended to select the best. He struck immediate difficulties. The total would have occupied well over a thousand pages on varied subjects of equal quality and interest. There was nothing in this output unworthy of reprinting. After some consultation it was decided that we should include one article only for each year from 1929 to 1967. This at least introduced some method into the selection and possibly will show development of his writing style and of his chess ideas.

It is said that no one who can read should undertake to clean up an attic. Yet I am not sorry that I undertook to look through this treasure trove, and the reader who will look at the samples presented here without pretense of selection will agree. Cec was a born writer. Everything he wrote was interesting, and once one starts reading any of the articles it is hard to put it down. His writing is plain and straightforward, free from any artificiality of style whatsoever, yet beguiling. Reading, I felt his presence at my elbow and I relived the enchanting moments of past encounters.

- vi -

CJ.S. Purdy-His Writings

His good-natured natural wit, always inoffensive, is ever-present and comes through as the essence of his personality, a quality one encounters in the great letter writers of literature.

Purdy, though extremely modest, was nevertheless completely self-confident and always certain that what he had to say was important and of interest to all and sundry. And so itis. Few other chess writers had actual teaching experience with moderately talented players. Accordingly, their books were written above the heads of their intended public. Where else but in Australia, a chess backwater, would a great chess intellect be constrained to actual teaching ofbeginners through economic necessity. However, Purdy was vitally interested in expressing and also systematizing his chess thought, a great deal. of which was new or at least not expressed before. Previous attempts,

such as the works of Nimzovich and other chess writers', were quite incomprehensible to an ordinary club player.

Even books after Purdy's pioneering effort, such as those of Euwe or Pachman, fell far short in value as teaching manuals. There are two personalities only who, in this writer's opinion, were equal to Cec as teachers; they are Philidor and Dr. Tarrasch. There are marvelous teaching books, such as for instance Renaud and Kahn, The Art of Checkmate and Theory of Rook Endgames, but each of those deals only with one particular aspect of the game, whereas Purdy's writings encompass the whole spectrum of chess.

In addition to the contributors mentioned under the various headings, our thanks are due to Mrs. Anne Purdy for the biography as well as the assembler and printer, Mr. W.Jamieson.

1982 J. Hammond

- vii -


BIOGRAPHICAL DETAILS

CecilJohn Seddon Purdy Born __________________ March 27, 1906

Began playing chess 1922

Editor of A.C.R.!Check/Chess World 1929-67

Australian Champion 1935-38, 1949-52

Australian Correspondence Champion 1940, 1948

Australasian Co-Champion 1952

International Master 1953

World Correspondence Champion 1953-58

Awarded "Order of Australia" 1976 Died November 6, 1979

TOURNAMENT & MATCH RECORD Mr. John van Manen, to whom chess lovers in Australia are greatly indebted for his

patient and diligent research, has collected details of CJ .S. Purdy's chess career, and with his permission I give the following statistics from his work.

Summary

CJ.S. Purdy's chess career as recorded above includes:

o 139 tournaments (including three team tournaments) ; o 1 4 matches (not including nine play-off matches) ; and o 43 games played in telegraphic matches.

In these events, spanning a period of 57 years ( 1923-79) , he played 1 ,586 games, scoring 1099- 112 points, i.e., 69%.

In the 136 tournaments proper, he won 3 7 first prizes (or shared first prizes), 26 second prizes, and 19 third prizes. Of the 14 matches recorded, he won eight and drew one.

In title contests he became:

o Correspondence Chess Champion of the World (in first event) ; o Champion of Australia four times; o Correspondence Chess Champion of Australia twice; o Champion of New Zealand twice;

- viii -

Cj.S. Purdy-His Writings

• Champion of New South Wales eight times; • City of Sydney Champion twice; and • Champion of the Pacific and South East Asia.

Of Australian chess players he was the greatest, and it is to be regretted that during his most successful period he had no opportunities to play in international tournaments. His international fame now rests mainly on his publications and his success in the first international correspondence chess championship.

State Championships

Purdy played in 36 N.S.W. Championships from 1923 to 1979, finishing first on eight occasions ( 1929, 1934, 1935, 1936, 1939, 1960, 1962, and 1968) and second seven times.

He also won the South Australian Championship in 1937.

Australian Championships

1926 Sydney 1928129 Perth 1930131 Melbourne 1932133 Sydney 1934135 Melbourne 1936137 Perth

Play-off:G. Koshnitsky M. Goldstein

1938139 Sydney 1945 Sydney 1946147 Adelaide 1948149 Melbourne 1951 Brisbane 1956157 Melbourne 1958159 Sydney 1960 Adelaide 1962163 Perth 1964165 Hobart

Play-off:D. Hamilton 1967 Brisbane 1973/74 Cooma

* Steiner won the tournament but was ineligible for the title.

-ix-

7- 112 I 10 7-1/2 I 10

10 I 12 8 / 13 12 I 13

7-1/2 I 1 1 8-1/2 I 14

4 1 6 10 I 13

10-112 I 15 1 1 I 13

1 1- 1/2 I 13 12 I 15

7-1/2 I 14 8-1/2 I 16

9 1 15 8 I 13 1 1 I IS

1 - 1/2 I 8 9-112 1 15

8 / 15 68%

3 3 2

1 2-5*

1 2-3 2-3

2

1 -2 2


Asian and Australasian Championship

In 1952 Purdy and Sarapu tied a match for the Australasian Championship. In 1960 Purdy won the Pacific and South East Asian Zonal Championship held in Sydney; however, the following year he lost a play-off match 0-3 against M. Aaron {India) for the All-Asian Zonal Championship.

New Zealand Championships

Purdy played in six New Zealand Championships between 1924 and 1970, winning the 1924/25 and 1935/36 tournaments.

Correspondence Chess

Purdy only competed in three correspondence championships, winning the first two Australian Correspondence Championships and the World Correspondence Championship in 1953.

- x -

All this was a long And I would do it again, But set down this -Set down this ... "

- The journey of the Magi, T.S. Eliot


T he Magus in Eliot's poem followed the Star unquestioningly because it was ordained, but

at the end of his life he wondered sadly whether the journey, which to others would seem so great and adventurous, had really been worth the sacrifices involved. Cecil Purdy, the subject of this biography, followed his own particular star with equal devotion, and I have sometimes wondered whether, at the end of his life, the same doubts troubled him.

Looking into the past is like holding up the wrong elld of a telescope-everything seems very small and far away, but incredibly clear and sharp. One of the earliest pictures I can see is of a small girl in a pink frock swinging on a gate, and a youth, resplendent in a gray suit and a felt hat with the Cranbrook badge (my uncle, much the same age, was still wearing knickerbockers and cap) coming slowly along the road. He was looking for "Newbiggin," my grandfather's home, where I was staying for the holidays. It was a big, rambling house set in several acres ofbushland - my grandfather did not believe in wasting his time on gardening-near the cliffs at Manly, opposite St. Patrick's Seminary. It had an uninterrupted view of the coastline-there were very few houses then so far from Manly Wharf-and was an ideal holiday place for a child whose home was in the less attractive suburb of Balmain. It was during one of these holidays that I first met "the Cranbrook schoolboy," as Cecil was known to his disgust many years after he had left school.

It would be nice to be able to report that it was love at first sight. However, he opened the conversation by advising me not to fall off the gate. I had not intended to do this

anyway, and immediately placed him as one of the officious and illogical race of grown-ups. He was nine and a half years older than I was. He told me later that I had not made much of a hit with him either. I started to have a gloomy foreboding that this would be a fine weekend wasted - no pony rides, no surfing, no scrambling around the rocks with my grandfather, listening to his marvelous stories. In this newcomer I already saw a real menace.

Earlier in the day I had heard my grandfather complaining that "some young pup who thought he wanted to play chess" had been "wished on to him" by a certain Dr. Purdy, whose wishes could not be ignored. Like me, he deplored the waste of a beautiful, sunny weekend. I had already learned how this insidious game could keep two otherwise reasonable adults chained indoors for hours, rebuffing all attempts to organize a decent game of ball or hopscotch with cries of"Sh-h!!" or "Do go away!" Like most only children, I was very dependent on adults for company, and I early decided that I would have to learn to play their game. My father, Spencer Crakanthorp, taught me the moves when I was four. He was champion of New South Wales, and was soon to become Australian champion. He had been a child prodigy, playing in an interstate match at the age of ten-his disgruntled victim, at the end of the game, sent a message "Take that child home and put him to bed." Fortunately, my father never seemed disappointed that I did not reach this standard, as long as I was willing to join in the four-handed games and other lighthearted types of chess which he enjoyed.

Why had my grandfather been chosen to nurse along the budding chess genius?

- 2 -


Col. (Dr.) John Purdy

Cecil tells the story in the Australasian Chess Review for January 1930. It goes back to 1916, when Cecil was ten and had never even thought of chess. My grandfather, a man with courage, enterprise, and an insatiable thirst for adventure, had enlisted in the army at the outbreak of war, giving his age as 40. He was in fact 59. He was on active service in France for two years. Just after the battle of Messines he was resting with his pack beside him when he was spotted by Colonel Purdy, who was being driven past in a staff car. The Colonel was well known as a martinet, but being also kind-hearted he offered the weary Corporal a lift. My grandfather politely demurred. "Get in, man," barked the Colonel, "that's an order." Corporal Crakanthorp obediently climbed in and was driven to the next village, where he gravely thanked his benefactor and watched the car out of sight. He then picked up his pack and set out to walk back five miles. He had been going in the opposite direction.

Some five or six years later, the two met again-this time at a Health Conference. Dr.

Purdy was now City Health Officer for Sydney, and my grandfather was Health Inspector at Manly. My grandfather reminded Dr. Purdy of their earlier meeting and, the chronicler assures us, "they both laughed heartily." I imagine my grandfather laughed the more heartily of the two, but he soon had the smile wiped from his face when Dr. Purdy brought up the matter of his elder son, who had just learned the moves of chess and would be grateful for a little practice and perhaps a few hints. My grandfather, as Dr. Purdy had apparently found out, had been for many years the unofficial country champion, and was now a leading figure in Sydney chess. Grandfather, who didn't suffer fools gladly and felt that he was about to be lumbered with one, was unenthusiastic but hardly in a position to refuse; later it was Dr. Purdy who regretted the suggestion.

Cecil's family was not one which seemed likely to produce a great chess figure. Cecil was born in 1906 in Port Said, where his father was the British port doctor. When he was a year old the family moved to New Zealand, then to Tasmania, then to New South Wales-back to Tasmania during the war years, when both Dr. and Mrs. Purdy were overseas, finally settling in Sydney when Cecil was about 12. In Hobart he had been for a while a pupil at the famous Old Hutchins School. Here he had as a classmate the future film star Errol Flynn, whom Cecil remembered as a sad little boy, the neglected and unwanted child of two brilliant, handsome, and erratic parents. In Sydney he was enrolled at Edgecliff Preparatory School, and later at Cranbrook, in its first year of existence. It was here that he met Wilfred Wallace, son of A.E.N. Wallace, then New South Wales champion and an ex-Australian champion, who was later to have a great influence on his chess career. Strangely, Cecil (according to his own ac-

- 3 -


count) does not seem to have realized what a treasure trove of chess knowledge was buried in his own backyard until he was already quite an advanced player. Had he done so, I don't suppose that bright day in March 1922 would have found him toiling up the hill at Manly after the long trip from Bellevue Hill, and this story would never have been written-or at any rate not by me.

Spencer Crakanthorp

As it was, my worst fears for the weekend were realized. The visitor, so far from being like W.S. Gilbert's lady "who doesn't think she dances, but would rather like to try," showed himself just the kind of protege my grandfather could welcome. Cecil had taught himself the moves, as he tells us, by copying them from the Encyclopedia Britannica during a rainy holiday down the South Coast, and as a reward for his industry had been given a set of chessmen.

He tells the story himself in a "Game Book" which he started in October 1922, about seven months after the first visit to Manly.

The first game I record was played against

Mr. L.S. Crakanthorp in October 1922 on which I played four even games, winning 2 and drawing 2. A month before we played at pawn and two. I had then been playing chess eight months, having begun the game in the Christmas holidays of that year. My uncle sent me a chess board and men from the Malay States, which started me on the game. In 2 months I was a rook, pawn and move player. I improved by leaps and bounds ["more or less," he adds with an uncharacteristic burst of modesty], my chief leap being after reading Ed. Lasker's Chess Strategy.

There is even a record of these intervening eight months. Cecil, so undisciplined and ill-organized in so many ways, brought from the very beginning a single-minded dedication to the study of chess which Dr. Purdy later came to feel would have been much better expended in training for some paying profession. With it went a keen analytical mind and a tremendous amount of industry and enthusiasm, to an extent which, in its youthful earnestness, seems strangely touching all these years later. To quote once again from the "Game Book":

"Details of Wyncrest Sports Club Chess Tournament {American System) held at Hillcrest, Bellevue Hill, Sydney. Commenced April 2nd 1922."

Then follow, carefully recorded and annotated, the moves of some of the most execrable games ever to have disgraced a chessboard, which would lead the reader to believe the Tournament should have started a day earlier-on April 1st.

Round 1: Game 1 - C. Purdy v. R. Simpson {odds ¥11, l"\, 4:), ft and move). Won by C. Purdy after a short game. Opened by Fianchetto de Re. At finish of

- 4 -


game pieces knocked off with broom by Dr. J.S. Purdy.

Anyone playing through the games would entirely sympathize with Dr. Purdy, but apparently he later gave Brilliancy prizes of sixpence each to four contestants, thereby indicating his forgiveness and a just appreciation of the merits of the play. An epic struggle between the club secretary and his 11-year-old sister is reported:

lsabel v. C. Purdy-C. Purdy gives �, )':'!, �. 2 moves and wins. C. Purdy lost a rook early. His opponent was playing well until after the adjournment. C. Purdy changed his tactics of waiting for a mistake that never came and advanced boldly, sacrificing pawns right and left. If the pawns had been refused, C. Purdy's position would have been hopeless. His combination, of course, was unsound ...

"1. Purdy's relentless accuracy before the adjournment certainly contrasts mysteriously with her indiscreet pawn-grabbing subsequently," he later added.

Cecil early showed the administrative acumen which later made him a respected figure in the chess world:

As examination of his score sheet will show, the preliminary tournament eliminated all but Wallace [who had a clean score], Addison and the secretary [Cecil himself], who managed to get third. Instead of considering this placing final, a final match (triangular) was played. Each played each of the others three games.

This time Cecil managed to win. As he was "generously" (as he himself put it) donating the first prize of five shillings, I have a feeling that the tournament would have gone on

until the right person won. By this time Cecil was firmly committed

to the love affair with chess which was to last the rest of his life, and it was clear that he needed something a little more challenging than the opposition offered by the "W yncrest" Sports Club. I don't think that his father-a practical and successful man who naturally desired his own kind of success for his sons-would have encouraged Cecil by sending him to Manly if he had realized how strong his obsession was becoming. He could hardly have chosen a better way to confirm it. My grandfather, then 65, was still a very impressive man, dashing, witty, and cultured, and Cecil immediately became, as most people did, his devoted admirer. As he himself said in his touching obituary of L.S. Crakanthorp (A.C.R.Jan. 1930),

"He loved chess, and one felt that if he loved chess, then chess was a game worth playing."

Their constant attraction was mutual. L.S., as he was usually known, and as Cecil always called him, found the new pupil modest, intelligent, and eager to learn-what more can a teacher ask? He gave him Rook, pawn, and move and a trouncing, but also encouragement and advice. Cecil went away thoughtful and determined. Mter that he spent many weekends and sometimes a week or a fortnight in Manly-I suppose when L.S. had holidays. The presence nearby of a charming family, the Cornfords, with several pretty daughters, was also an attraction-Millie, the eldest daughter, became the first woman champion of New South Wales. They were friends of my grandfather's and had a tennis court; Cecil was a keen and skillful tennis player, and had already developed an appreciation of pretty girls, so the holidays must have gone quite nicely. But

-5 -


youthful frivolities were never allowed to crowd out the real purpose of the visits. He studied chess assiduously (his school studies had to take second place, much to his family's dissatisfaction), wrote down each game he played, and annotated it painstakingly. Within a year he was regularly playing L.S. on even terms and winning a majority of games. By the time he met A.E.N. Wallace over the board (December 1922), he was able to score a win, a draw, and a loss out of three games-a remarkable achievement even if, as the games seem to show, Wallace was not taking his young opponent too seriously.

By 1923, when he was 17, he seems already to have decided on his career as a chess writer, though he probably had not yet confided this ambition to his family. In careful schoolboy handwriting and with spelling which in later years would have made him blush, he drew up a plan for a book of instruction on chess. And a very sensible, logical plan it is too. Many of the ideas, in fact the general system, he used later in his books and articles. There is also a dauntingly long list of "titles for book(s) or articles, etc." I wonder what he had in mind for the "etc."? One of the titles is "How To Win Chess Tournaments," which as he had never played in one (except the Wyncrest Sports Club) seems rather presumptuous. However, he was looking to the future with a confidence which was not misplaced.

Some of the titles he listed were used afterwards-"Chess Made Easy" and "Secrets of the Chessboard," for example. There is also "Purdy's Way," with the note "Only suitable if happen to become very wellknown player." When he did become a very well-known player he had also become more modest. There is a page of "Chess Notes- Positions for Book," in which "Purdy-Wallace (off-hand) 1923" rubs shoulders incongruously with "Lasker-Ca-

pablanca, St. Petersburg 1914." There are also pages on "Method of Thinking in Chess" (substantially the basis for his book Guide to Good Chess), "Method of Studying," and "Method of Teaching." I suppose this was the method he used to teach the members of the Wyncrest Sports Club, and it could hardly be improved upon. That it should have been devised by a 16-year-old who had only just learned the moves himself is incredible; it shows his extraordinary gift for getting to the heart of the problem, and for orderly and logical analysis-a gift which unfortunately he rarely exercised in practical affairs. But in his world these did not really matter, and so were not worth wasting much time on; it was chess that mattered, and on that he was to spend the rest of his life.

Before this, he had privately determined that his career must be journalism of some kind-partly because of his love of writing, but partly also because of the handicap, from which all the children in the family suffered, of a noticeable stammer. As adults they had all practically overcome this through therapy and speech exercises, and also through the confidence engendered by success in their chosen fields (High became a civil engineer with the Water Board), and many people who only met Cecil in later life would be unaware that such a problem ever existed. It is only worth mentioning insofar as it influenced his choice of profession, and perhaps was a factor in his enormously powerful will to win. He liked his sports to be competitive-grade tennis, tournament chess, duplicate bridge. If he played family bridge, absurdly small sums of money had to change hands just to prove that one pair had either won or lost by a certain margin. (I think he got this point of view from my father, who stoutly maintained that the only immoral thing about cards was to play for nothing.) On the other hand, no

-6-


L.S. Crakanthorp

one could have accepted defeat more gracefully. He accepted philosophically the idea that there would be another time, and he was prepared to wait for it.

I don't think his stammer ever caused him embarrassment, and it certainly didn't stop him making friends, but he found it frustrating and limiting, and was thoroughly relieved when he got rid of it. Today, with his mathematical and analytical ability, he would seek a career in C.S.I.R.O. or in private industry; in those days there were no such opportunities. Teaching or University lecturing were the only careers open to those whose abilities were solely academic, and these were plainly barred to him. Even when he was very young he had a gift for writing, and a great humorist was lost to Australia when he decided to channel his talents into chess journalism.

Meanwhile, however, he was still at Cranbrook, which he had attended from the year of its inception, and schoolwork and chess were in sore competition. While most of the games in his score book are still with L.S.C. or Wallace, his horizons were

broadening. He was a member of the Manly A-grade team, and also occasionally played the Mocha stalwarts-Amadio, Crane, and Tonkin, for example. Also, at about this time he started to visit regularly at my father's home. I was surprised to find from his games record book that he had met my father as far back as September 1922, at Manly, and had played a game with him: "Played 1 game with Spencer Crakanthorp, who came 3rd in Aust. Champ. and 4th in British Champ., obtained drawn position in ending" -here follows a carefully drawn diagram, and beneath it the not uncommon hard luck story-"Actually Black sleepily moved K-B2 and lost." Black, of course, was Cecil, and presumably he learned at least not to play while sleepy.

They did not meet again for a couple of years. Like L.S., my father did not like being bothered with learners, but L.S. persuaded him that the young man was worth encouraging, and that there was no more he could learn at Manly. I remember my mother being rather indignant and pointing out that my father was being asked to train a rival who would eventually topple him from his throne. Of course, in a sense this was true; but, as she should have known, real lovers of chess are never troubled by these petty jealousies. Cecil in later years was delighted to give encouragement and support to promising juniors, some at least of whom he knew were destined to replace him. So Cecil became a regular visitor at my parents' home at Balmain, where there was open house every Sunday, and where any interstate players who happened to be in Sydney and most of the strong local players would drop in. J.A. Erskine, the New Zealand player and problemist, was my father's closest friend, Gundersen and Watson were often up from Melbourne, and Wallace, Crane, Harrison, Spedding, Tonkin, and Bignold were all regular visi-

-7-


CJ.S. Purdy, age 17

tors. The chess was not usually very serious-mostly kriegspiel, blindfold chess, three-dimensional chess, and two-handed or team games. I was often brought in for this kind of chess-as a handicap for the strongest player, as I now realize. I am sure I was very efficient in this role.

Cecil first started to visit with Wallace, who was one of my favorites. It was a rule of the house that if I had been a good girl until tea-time (which meant if I had been reading quietly and not worrying anyone), the company would then play any game I chose. It was remarkable with what good hum or these often portly middle-aged men would disport themselves for an hour at marbles, chasings, handball, and French cricket. I think Cecil was taken aback by the frivolous nature of the chess, and although he got on so well with his seniors he certainly had no knack with children; however, he did enjoy the "literary chess," in which each move had to be accompanied by a suitable quotation, sometimes from Shakespeare or sometimes of one's own choice. I think this may be the origin of his habit of accompa-

nying his annotations with quotations. Maurice Goldstein, a few years later, had a great liking for this diversion, and was erudite and witty. I think Cecil was still rather intense about his chess and preferred the hard slogging at Manly, where he still frequently visited.

In 1924, when he was 18, his father financed a trip to New Zealand which enabled him to play in the championship at Nelson. This was his first real experience of travel, and he loved every minute of it. After chess, it became his second passion. He was an excellent sailor and he loved ships, he enjoyed the romantic friendships so easily made at sea; he gloried in the tension and excitement of the tournament, the sense of importance, and above all the adulation and lionizing which followed success. He was realizing the delights of being a big fish, and very sensibly he did not allow the smallness of the pool to diminish his satisfaction. His victory in New Zealand was hailed with a degree of publicity which seems quite absurd today, when schoolboy chess is encouraged and we see younger champions, such as Murray Chandler, winning against much stronger fields. The mere fact that a young man could succeed against veterans aroused the astonishment of the newspapers-now it is far more surprising if the veteran ever wins. One reason for this, of course, is that in those days there was very little chess literature, so that skill could to a fair extent be equated with experience. Wallace and my father had both won state championships at 19, but these had been isolated cases and had been quite a long time earlier. Chess news in the Twenties received a coverage which would make any modem chess journalist green with envy, and columns appeared in Sydney and New Zealand papers extolling the "boy prodigy" ( Cecil was almost 19). An interview with Dr. Purdy on the subject of his son's success

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C.j.S. Purdy-His Writings

concluded with unconscious irony: "There's a £30 prize goes with the N.Z. Championship, and Dr. Purdy seems a bit alarmed for fear Cecil will want to make chess his profession!"

It must have been a let-down to go back to school, and Cecil did not intend to let it interfere with the important things of life. His "Chess Record Book" (a kind of chess diary) shows that he played many friendly games against L.S., Wallace, Amadio, and Tonkin, as well as representing Manly in the grade matches and coming third in the State Championship. All the games are carefully copied out and annotated. His father was sufficiently impressed with his chess results to finance another trip to New Zealand to play in the championship, which was being held in Dunedin concurrently with the Great Exhibition of 1925-26.

A party of us went from Sydney- Cecil, my grandfather and his second wife, my father and mother, and myself. We had four days on the "Maunganui" and it was great fun. We had not been long at sea when my father, who was easily recognized as "the chess player" because of his unusual name, was approached by the usual ship's bore and challenged to a game. My father hastily found some excuse for not playing at the moment, but felt sure that his young friend would like a game, and perhaps some advice, as he was only a beginner. Cecil looked much younger than his age, and had a beguiling air of innocence and candor. He bumbled his way through several games, getting frightful openings, giving pieces away, and at one crucial stage apparently forgetting how to castle. I was watching and wanted to remind him, but my father wouldn't let me, which I thought was very unkind. Somehow at the end, thoughgreatly to his astonishment -he always ended by mating his opponent. The newcomer was bemused but undaunted. "Never mind,"

said my father encouragingly, "you've had bad luck. Have a game with my wife." My mother was one of the strongest woman players in New South Wales (though in those days that was not saying much), and she had no difficulty in winning. "Well, how about playing my daughter?" Father then suggested. But when the would-be giant killer saw a small, curly-haired girl beaming at him agreeably and preparing to seat herself at the chessboard, he fled and was not seen again. I think my father was disappointed, as he had several more tricks up his sleeve for occasions such as this. He was a great prankster, and Cecil was a willing stooge.

Cecil did not do well in this tournament, which my father won, but once again he had a marvelous time, and the Exhibition was spectacular-splendidly organized and presented, and quite a new idea at that time. I loved prowling round the gardens and the splendid granite buildings of the University of Otago, where the games were being played. I did not see much of Cecil, though we were staying in the same house. To me he still belonged to a different generation, and I always called him "Mr. Purdy."

Unfortunately, shortly after this my mother became very ill and remained so for more than two years. We moved to Bankstown, which was a country district and very isolated, and I lost all contact with the chess world. For a while I missed my old friends and playmates, but I was at High School and I put chess right out of my mind for the next five years. My father continued to play in chess events, in spite of the difficulties of traveling, and he met Cecil frequently at Manly, where he went once a month to visit L.S.

At the end of the year Cecil sat for the Leaving Certificate for the second time. He had always been a brilliant student, but no one could have served two masters to quite

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the extent he had attempted over the last two years, and his first attempt had resulted in a pass which his family did not consider satisfactory. The second time he obtained the outstanding results his parents and the school expected of him, and, with his career still officially undecided, he started his course at the University in the Faculty of Arts, with the possibility of eventually doing Law.

In April 1926 the Chess Championship of Australia was played in Sydney. Cecil naturally put in an entry, but greatly to his surprise and indignation the N.S.W.C.A., who were running the tournament, were reluctant to accept it on the grounds that it would mean excluding older players. Cecil did not endear himself by remarking publicly that he understood their sympathy for the veterans, because "they had been old men themselves once, and knew what it felt like." Both my grandfather and my father espoused his cause warmly-my father, as a young man, had just the same difficulty being accepted. Cecil justified their support by taking third place, behind my father and Severin Woinarski. In fact, Cecil secured first place for my father by defeating Woinarski, then the leader, in a crucial game. Woinarski was the same age as Cecil and was a player of remarkable talent who undoubtedly would have reached the very top rank had he continued to play; but he came of a well-known legal family who persuaded him to give up chess in favor of the study of law. He did well at his profession and later became a Supreme Court Judge. He did not lose his interest in chess, though he never competed again. Cecil always kept in touch with him and visited him when he was in Melbourne.

The newspapers continued to be dazzled by Cecil's youth and featured headlines like "Boy Chess Genius" (Daily Guardian) and "Chess Prodigy" (Daily Telegraph). He was referred to as "the Cranbrook schoolboy,"

and the cricketer-cartoonist Arthur Mailey, who always covered the chess tournaments in Sydney, drew him as "the Purdy infant," in a pram! He was then 20.

During his first year at the University he formed the University Chess Club, with himself as Secretary. Professor Vonwiller (Professor of Mathematics) was President. Cecil had started an Honors course in Mathematics and became very friendly with the professor, who was a strong player and sympathetic to Cecil's ambitions, though, I suspect, not as sympathetic as Cecil imagined he was. On one occasion when Cecil was late with an assignment he commented sweetly, "Of course, we mustn't let Mathematics interfere with your chess." Cecil was fond of quoting this as an example of his tolerance and goodwill, but I often wondered.

THE AUSTRALASIAN CHESS REVIEW IS BORN

In his final year at the University (1929), the chance came which he had been waiting for. In 1928-29 he had competed in the fourth Australian Chess Championship at Perth. Once again my father won, and Cecil came third. He had had a good press contract and had made most of his expenses through journalism, at which he now had considerable experience. So when Mr.J ames Prowse, who had run the chess magazine The Austral for many years, decided that he could no longer afford the burden of constant losses, Cecil persuaded his father to put up the money to get it started again. My grandfather had said that if Prowse ever gave up, he himself would take the magazine on -but he was now dying. I often wondered whether Cecil's decision was made partly because L.S. desired it. Everyone felt that if The Austral were allowed to go, chess in Australia would go with it, but no one except Cecil was prepared to risk the money and energy

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to save it. It needed a young man's courage and enthusiasm, and Cecil had plenty of both. He ran the magazine from the back room of the family home at Bellevue Hill and everything had to be done by hand, including the addressing of the envelopes. There were, unfortunately, not many needed. The magazine was printed at Parramatta, which was fairly inaccessible in those days of steam trains and infrequent services, and

Cecil keeping a fatherly eye on his younger brother and sisters.

for a long time the magazine meant a lot of work for little return. If Cecil had not been living at home, very inexpensively, he could never have kept it going. In the hope of creating a new circle of readers (The Austral had been rather dreary), the name was changed to The Australasian Chess Review.

However, whatever else went short, money was always found for chess trips, and in December 1929 he played in the New Zealand Championship at Wanganui, tying for second and third behind Gundersen. Then in 1930 a merry company took off once again from Sydney, this time to Melbourne for the fifth Australian Chess

Congress. The group consisted of Cecil, my father

and mother and myself, and two very welcome additions to the chess scene, Maurice Goldstein and Garry Koshnitsky. We drove down to Melbourne in Maurice's car, with Maurice and Garry alternating as drivers. It was a leisurely trip (as far as Garry's driving could ever be considered leisurely), and we stopped everywhere that might be of interest, including at Canberra, a very new township of marked-out but nonexistent roads and quantities of tiny trees with large labels flapping from them. My father and mother looked on indulgently, and we four younger people found laughter in everything. I had just finished school, and it was wonderful to be free and grown-up at last! I was 15, and it was evident that Cecil now found me a great deal more interesting than he had in Dunedin. When we got to Melbourne he found it a pleasant duty to show me the city, which I thought the most beautiful and glamorous place in the world. I had finished with school uniforms and acquired some becoming clothes, and I was being squired by a young man who, it appeared, was going to be the next Australian champion.

But some unkind Fate seemed determined to keep this particular prize-so much longed for!-out of Cecil's reach. By the last round he had met every one of his strongest opponents, and had the impressive score of 10 points out of 11. His only loss had been to my father in the first round. He had to play Coultas, who was not one of the highly ranked players; Watson was half a point behind. Coultas chose this round to play the game of his life. Cecil struggled desperately for a draw, while officials waiting to organize the prize-giving chewed their fingernails, and spectators standing on chairs and tables fell off in their excitement. At 10 PM he had to resign and see Watson take the

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coveted title. I never admired Cecil so much. I realized how bitterly disappointed he must have been, especially as a huge crowd had gathered to cheer and congratulate him, but he preserved perfect good hurnor-on the surface at any rate-and shook hands with his opponent with hearty goodwill. He admired and liked Watson, and no one could have been a more worthy victor.

From this time on, Cecil's life and mine became interwoven. I was studying at the University and had started to play chess again. I was very sympathetic to Cecil's ambitions, the more so because I had been brought up in a chess household and was used to seeing a man's life dominated by 64 squares and 32 pieces. In 1931-32 he went again to New Zealand, this time to the Congress at Napier, where he came third. Soon afterwards, he asked my father for permission to marry me. I was then 16.

I could not say that the suggestion was greeted by either set of parents with great enthusiasm, Cecil' s parents considering that Cecil was in no position to support a wife (he was not yet able to support himselfj, and mine, that I was far too young. Both arguments were entirely sound. I was in my second year at Sidney University, and although I had won a State Exhibition my parents found it quite a financial burden to keep me there; they expected me to work for at least a few years to justify the expense. For a woman to work after marriage was almost unthinkable-indeed almost impossible, since most jobs, including teaching, for which I was training, were completely barred to married women. My parents did not see why I could not complete my course, get my Diploma of Education, and then teach with the Department of Education for the required six years before thinking of marriage. It was a reasonable suggestion, for even then I would have been only 25. However, people in love are rarely reason-

able; and as Cecil pointed out, by that time he would have been 35, which to us seemed positively middle-aged. My parents were both very fond of him, and had always encouraged our friendship-hoping, I suppose, that it would remain friendship until they had decided the time was ripe for marriage-and they valued his qualities of honesty, sincerity, and kindness ahead of wealth. Our engagement was announced in March 1931, on the same day the Sydney Harbor Bridge was opened. The latter event, in my view, paled into insignificance.

In December 1932 Cecil played in the Australian Championship in Sydney, and

At Mrs. Crakanthorp's home at Woolwich

for the first time failed to gain a place. The title was won by Gregory Koshnitsky, the reckless charioteer of 1930-now somewhat more mature and mellow, but no less handsome and charming. He was a little younger than Cecil, and their early lives had been very different, but they formed a friendship that lasted for almost 50 years. I think Garry really understood Cecil better than anyone else ever has; he was an example of the

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friend "who knows you well, but likes you just the same."

Garry's win was a great thing for the Sydney chess community and, incidentally, for Cecil. In June of that year Anthony Hordern's, then Sydney's leading department store, had started the Metropolitan Social Chess Club, making available spacious and comfortable premises and the services of Garry Koshnitsky as manager. His new title was quite a boost, and before long there were more than 300 members. With such a manager (unmarried too!), women's chess, especially, flourished as it never had before. Cecil, like most of the other Sydney players, was a frequent visitor, and new subscribers to the magazine were enrolled almost daily. Only a few months after he had started the Australasian Chess Review the Great Depression hit Australia, but although it ruined many other businesses, chess seemed to flourish. People who could no longer afford more expensive pastimes turned to it for occupation and companionship, and one had to be very hard-up not to be able to afford the few pence necessary to buy the chess magazine. Cecil was also getting quite a lot of chess reporting, including a column in the Daily Telegraph, and a few months after I graduated my parents agreed that Cecil's financial prospects were fairly bright. Accordingly, we were married in June 1934, a few days after my 19th birthday, and departed happily for a fortnight's honeymoon in the snow at Kosciusko (total cost £20).

In December of this year ( 1934) we both went down to Melbourne, where Cecil competed in the Australian Championship. To make our happiness complete, this time he achieved the goal he had striven for so long. He won the tournament from a very strong field, with a record margin of two points. As a young and pretty bride, the daughter of a famous player, and the wife of the new

champion, I shared in the limelight and basked in reflected glory.

I am looking, as I write, at a photograph of Cecil taken at about that time. He was a very personable young man, with a thoughtful, sensitive face, expressive brown eyes, and soft blond hair with a slight wave in it. He was of medium height, slender and athletic-all his life he was a much more powerful man than he looked, and even as an old man he could lift and carry quite amazing weights. A good runner and an A-grade tennis player, he was light and quick on his feet and graceful in all his movements. I think what I found most attractive about him was the aura of freshness and good health which he exuded. He neither smoked nor drank, and for preference lived on a very simple diet, which probably contributed to this, but it was even more something within his own personality-a kind of childlike enjoyment of the day and a refusal to concern himself too early with the problems of the morrow. I was later to find out that this carefree attitude could have its disadvantages.

From the magazine and other sources, Cecil's income at the time was £5 per week. We paid £ 1 a week rent for a modern twobedroom flat close to the beach at Maroubra, allowed 30 shillings a week for housekeeping (when that ran out we descended on the parents), saved £ 1 a week, and had the balance for emergencies. Our furniture, such as it was, was paid for, and we lived very happily. The next year we were able to use our savings, our wedding cheques, which we had been keeping for such an occasion, and generous presents from our parents (my father had given me £ 100 on condition that I didn't demand any fripperies such as a wedding reception) and paid a deposit on a house at Lurline Bay, Coogee, almost on the cliffs, with a beautiful view up the coast. A few months later a fine healthy baby boy

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was born, both sets of grandparents were delighted, and the whole picture looked like one of the rosier fade-outs of the silent movie days.

Fate, however, as is its usual practice, was waiting behind the door with a rubber cosh in its hand, and the scenario now turned into something more like the modern gloomy kitchen-sink drama. It was understandable that the baby, the house, and the interests which now filled my life so pleasantly were not really enough for Cecil (at heart a most undomesticated man), and at the end of the year he went off again to play in the New Zealand Championship at Wellington followed by a tour of several months through New Zealand, giving simultaneous exhibitions and lectures. W hile he was away the Daily Telegraph had a change of ownership, and the new management, as usual, started looking round for ways to save money by cutting down on "features." The ax fell on the chess column, whose incumbent was not there to protect his interests. Dr. Purdy did his best to save it for us, but in this field his influence was worth nothing, and Cecil came back to find himself with a new baby, a house to be paid off, and his income cut by almost half. Had our families been able to give us financial help, I am sure they would have done so; but one disaster was followed by another, much worse one-or, in fact, two. In 1936 Cecil's father and mine both died in the same week, in each case of pneumonia, and it was obvious that we would have to try to manage for ourselves. Cecil worked very hard at the only things he could do; he got chess reporting whenever he could, he strove unceasingly to make the Australasian Chess Review a magazine of world standard, and he wrote and published two small books on the world championship matches, How Euwe ffiln and The Return of Alekhine [Ed. These works will be reprinted by Thinkers' Press}.

These were a great success and sold out very quickly, but of course we did not have the capital to produce any worthwhile number.

We managed to struggle on for a while, living close to the breadline. Looking back now, I often wonder how we managed at all, except that food was very cheap, and healthy young people can live on almost anything. But it became obvious now that, instead of saving, we were getting into debt. The final blow came one day when I discovered by accident a letter from the bank threatening to foreclose the mortgage on the house.

It is hard to describe what a shock this was to me. I had never had to think of financial matters before in the whole of my life, beyond the price of a new blouse or a pound of chops, and the money the bank was talking about terrified me. Had I been a little older or more experienced, I would have looked at the matter more calmly, remembering that banks are never as fierce as they sound and are very reluctant to throw respectable young couples out into the snow. But I was only a little over 20 and had no one to go to for advice; my father was dead, I had no brothers or sisters, and my mother had been left poorly provided for, and was working in a solicitor's office in the country. So I did what I suppose was not unusual for girls in those days-burst into a flood of tears, packed up a case and the baby, and rushed up to join Mother.

Fortunately for both of us, the law did not encourage young people to make rash decisions about matrimony-or at least not about getting out of it. "For better or for worse" meant what it said, and if the "worse" only meant having to make some fairly basic financial adjustments, the law didn't really consider that to be very bad. My mother was a sensible, well-balanced woman, and I think she realized better than

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I did that I might not be terribly happy with Cecil at the moment, but I certainly wouldn't be happy without him-nor did she think I was likely to be happy with anyone else, in which she was probably correct. Anyway, she set about putting matters to rights. She resigned from her job, came down to Sydney, and spent most of the remains of her capital on buying an old rambling house in Woolwich which was selling very cheaply; it was still the time of the Depression, when houses could be vacant for months or even years, awaiting a buyer with some ready cash. It was in a pleasant situation, close to the ferry, and had enough rooms for people to be able to get away from each other when they felt they had to. We settled down together, she looked after the baby, whom she adored, and I got a job. Here, after she had done some preliminary "smoothingover" business, Cecil joined us.

It was obvious to me now, as perhaps it should have been earlier, that if we were to have a successful life together I would have to undertake the financial responsibilities for it. Cecil still had all the admirable qualities for which I had married him-he was a man of high principles, he was kind, affectionate, intelligent, amusing, a good companion; and I loved him. He was not equipped to battle with the world, even for himself, much less for a wife and child. I admired him more than any man I had ever known-1 still did, after 46 years of marriage. The decision was an easy one-it was how to implement it that posed difficulties. I easily obtained casual work, but it was of the "superior clerk" nature since I was entirely untrained, and I found it boring and unchallenging. I dare say I wasn't very good at it either, so although we had no crippling debts, we were only just keeping our heads above water. The house at Lurline Bay, which had been my pride, of course had to go.

At first Cecil continued to run the magazine from Woolwich, but he started, with considerable enterprise but very little capital, to develop a modest mail-order business, mainly in boards and sets, and this demanded more storage space. Providentially, at this moment Mr. E.A. Dunstan, a fellow chess enthusiast, offered Cecil a share in his rooms at 1 Bond Street, Sydney. The building, a scruffy four-story relic of bygone days, stood where Australia Square is today. Cecil's new office consisted at this time of one tiny room which he shared with a friendly mouse. Mouse was soon accepted as his secretary and general help, and was left in charge when Cecil had occasion to be out-as he quite often did. Mouse was not good at opening the door, but callers learned to be tolerant, and sat on the stairs waiting for the Editor's return. The building was dilapidated, the lift hardly ever worked, and Cecil lost no time in creating around himself the kind of nightmarish mess which he considered essential for his comfort and well-being. It is extraordinary how, in the midst of such confusion, writings which are masterpieces of lucidity and organization could have first seen the light of day.

Cecil was able to spend a lot of time at the Metropolitan Chess Club, where he often gave lessons, and the list of subscribers to the magazine grew steadily as its value was realized, especially overseas. His chess career was flourishing. He had won the state championship three years running (1934, '35, and '36) and the Australian title at Perth (1936-37) after a marathon play-off with Goldstein and Koshnitsky, and in 1939 he won the state title again. Then once again our world, and this time everyone else's as well, was turned upside down. In the first place, I discovered that I was going to have another baby.

Cecil was far too nice a person to express any opinion, but he was certainly not

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going round handing out cigars and asking to be congratulated. My mother was probably horrified, but as usual she made the best of it, and I was secretly pleased. I had longed for another child, however ill-advised it might be, and, as far as my job was concerned, I felt sure that eventually something would turn up. I was right-it did. In the shape of World War 11.

When I heard the announcement over the air that "a state of war exists . . . " I burst into tears again. This sounds as though it were my routine way of dealing with problems, which was not really the case. But the prospect ahead seemed truly frightening; one small child and another on the way, a husband of military age and almost certain to be called up, our only living at the moment a small business just shakily struggling to its feet, and the whole world about to burst into flames, with heaven knew what horrors ahead! And yet, paradoxically, the war which brought grief and disaster to millions, and which I thought would ruin us, ultimately set us on the way to a moderate degree of prosperity. Fate, which had for some time regarded us as its favorite football, now decided to relent and toss a few goodies from the cornucopia. Perhaps it had enough on its hands now, dealing with other people.

In the first place the baby, a girl, proved not only to be fat and healthy, but of such an incredibly placid nature that one would almost have thought she knew we were living in someone else's house on sufferance and that she could get us all thrown out. She was named after my mother, who fell an immediate victim to her charms, which was just as well, for we certainly had nowhere else to go. As I had expected, Cecil received a call-up notice and passed his medical examination Al. He was duly received into the Army, but with more sense than one usually gives them credit for, the

Cecil at 25

authorities realized, after interviewing him, that if they wanted to win the war they had better find some other place to put him -unless of course he could be induced to join the enemy forces, in which case his ability to sabotage any piece of machinery merely by looking at it would be worth a battalion to the Allies. They decided to use him in Security, and he started off in the Department of Censorship.

Cecil could work untiringly when something was important to him, and saving his magazine, for which he had already made such great sacrifices, was important. So he set out to virtually do two jobs. He liked the work in Censorship and did quite well there, though he was always in clock trouble, just as over the chessboard. He was never really comfortable under the discipline of working to someone else's rules. At the same time he was trying to keep the paper going in spite of paper rationing, printing and delivery troubles, and all sorts of other troubles, some of which were unavoidable in wartime and others which stemmed from petty bureaucracy. He was still writing most

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of it himself, but Lajos Stein er and Maurice Goldstein proved themselves true friends by contributing articles and sometimes annotations, for which I am sure they could not have been paid very much. Graeme Stewart, a young man with a very keen interest in chess who was not eligible for military service, acted as "business manager," which meant attending to subscriptions, looking after the office generally, and supervising the sending of accounts and the posting of the magazines. He also made a valiant attempt at bookkeeping, but he made just about as much mess of it as Cecil himself could have done, which caused all kinds of problems and nasty talks with the Taxation Department when the war was over and they had time to think about such things. In all other matters he was invaluable, and without his help I doubt whether the A. C.R. could have survived.

As far as I was concerned also, Fate was kind. Of course with two young children I could not be directed into employment, but I longed for some kind of paying occupation. My chance came when the young man who ran the Council Baths on the Lane Cove River was called up; the Council were at their wits' end to find someone to replace him. I had been a long-distance swimmer of very moderate distinction in my University days, and our house was almost next door to the baths, so I was asked to carry on for the duration of the war. It was an extraordinary job for a girl to be doing in those days, but Australia was getting used to seeing women do things they had never done before-like working on trams and buses.

The job suited me ideally. Our little boy had just started school, but he was very happy to spend all his non-school hours with me at the baths, and I took the baby down with me in a clothes-basket, in which she continued to behave herself with im-

peccable propriety. It was the best paid work, proportionately, that I ever did, for I was receiving exactly the same emolument as the young man would have done, almost an unknown thing in those days, when "equal pay" was a dream-or nightmare-of the future.

Mter two years of this, an opportunity arose to manage the baths at Greenwich under the same conditions; for example they had a kiosk (which meant extra rations of tea and butter, and an allowance of tobacco and chocolate, both as precious as gold). They also had their own residence, which meant we had to leave the house at Woolwich where we had all lived together happily and comfortably. My mother was sorry to leave it, but she packed up and followed us, partly to help me and partly because by this time she could not bear to be separated from the children. We all squashed somehow or other into a tiny substandard dwelling which would have been condemned if it had not been wartime (and if the house had not belonged to the Council). However, we settled in there and managed surprisingly well. It was pleasant living right on the river-in fact on one occasion when there was a king tide we found ourselves actually in it, with the water almost lapping at the door. Cecil was away a great deal of the time, in Melbourne or Canberra, which made things easier, as we were so crowded, but in the summer season we worked tremendously hard doing everything, including cleaning and repairs, and had a lot of fun. On summer weekends when he was in Sydney even Cecil would help in the kiosk, with a slightly bemused expression.

After a short time in the Censorship he had caught someone's eye as being too good for the job he was doing, and he was seconded to Mr. (late Sir) John McEwan as private secretary. Cecil admired his new

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boss enormously, and they got on very well, but Mr. McEwan obviously considered that Cecil needed to have a secretary rather than to be one (in fact on some occasions he found himself running round finding things for Cecil) and they parted with mutual expressions of goodwill after about three months. Cecil then went into Decoding, where the work was interesting and challenging, and where he made a number of good friends.

During these years, organized chess was at a low ebb, but strangely the game grew in popularity and the A. C.R. 's subscription list continued to grow with it. This was largely due to the work of Gregory Koshnitsky, who was stationed in New Guinea with the Army Education forces, with the rank of lieutenant. He did an enormous amount to popularize chess in the army, and most of

The Purdy's first home Maroubra 1937

the new players we met immediately after the war told us they had learned chess from "Koshninsky," as they insisted on calling him. Cecil played in the state championships several times during those years, but

considering the pressures he was under it is not surprising that he did not do particularly well. Rereading those wartime A. C.R.s I realize how hard he must have worked to keep up the standard of the magazine.

At last the war ended-we found it hard to believe that it ever would-and in 1946 another adjustment became necessary for us, as for so many other families. A young man came to replace me at the Council baths, and we had to find another home. Now we were in a much better position. Not only had we both been earning more than ever before, but of course we had been living rent-free, and besides, there had been nothing to spend money on. So with what we had saved from our earnings during the war years and the little I had managed to salvage from the equity in the house at Lurline Bay, we were able to buy a very pleasant house at Greenwich.

We moved there in 1946 and stayed 26 years. We planted small slips and saw them grow to great trees; we brought up two children, who went to local schools; saw them leave school, get jobs, travel, marry and leave home, and then bring their children back to visit us. I think the best years of our marriage were passed there.

CHANGE TO CHESS WORLD W hen the war ended, Cecil was released from the Defense Department. If he had wanted to, he probably could have stayed on in Government employment, but he had been longing for the time when he could once again expend all his energies on his brainchild, which was now starting to wilt a little-not so much through deficiencies in contributions or management as through constant wartime shortages of one kind or another. These, of course, were to continue for quite a few years; but chess was still benefiting from the fillip it had received,

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and the magazine eventually rode out its difficulties.

In 1944 the name had been changed from The Australasian Chess Review to Check!, which had a less parochial sound (by this time there were many overseas subscribers, particularly in America), and in 1946 it became Chess World. This was because of the shortage of back numbers of earlier magazines, which are now as hard to get as the phoenix egg. After this, ample stocks were printed so that complete back issues would always be available, and very popular they proved to be.

He also greatly expanded the office in 1 Bond Street (Dunstan had left some time ago) and set about importing books and chess goods. After a few years he had established quite a thriving business, and the shop became a meeting place for Sydney or visiting players, especially schoolboys in the afternoons or on Saturday mornings, the proprietor being only too accessible to anyone who had an interesting position to discuss.

Whatever he made was used to buy the one thing valuable to him-time to pursue his chess interests. As the financial return became greater, he put on more people to do the jobs he didn't want to do himself, which soaked up much of the profit. He had not really the temperament to be a good businessman, though he always took a very active part in the printing and distribution of the magazine. The writing was what he enjoyed and did superbly well; he spent hours of patient research on every article he wrote-checking, revising, rewriting. He could not give up his search for perfection simply to meet a deadline. It was a magazine for connoisseurs (there is a file of letters to show how widely it was read and appreciated), but I think it was wasted on many of his readers, who would have enjoyed it just as much with a little less perfection and a lot

more punctuality. It would have been an ideal arrange

ment if I had been prepared to run the business side of Chess World for him. Theoretically we could have made a fine husband-and-wife team, especially as I was playing a lot of chess at this time. I had made many sacrifices for chess, but this was one I was not prepared to make. I had no liking or talent for commercial work, and though I found Cecil quite possible to live with (I don't think anyone could have described him as easy), I knew he would be quite impossible to work with. After she left school, our daughter Diana went in to manage the office for him, and apparently enjoyed it, though Cecil sometimes made her want to beat her-or preferably his-head on the wall. She was a great help to him, and it was one of the few wholly unselfish acts of his life when he gave his support to her idea of a working holiday in New Zealand-from which she came back engaged to be married. However, this brought a new chess player into the family in the person of the New Zealand expert Frank Hutchings, who later became one of Cecil's closest friends, so perhaps it was a matter of casting your bread upon the waters and having it returned made up into ham sandwiches.

I had to work at something, so shortly after the war I found an excellent job as editorial assistant in the CSIRO Division of Radiophysics. It was very interesting work with congenial people, and the salary seemed to me so generous that I wondered what I could possibly be asked to do that would deserve so vast a reward. There were a number of keen chess players there, and we formed a club under the presidency of Doctor, later Professor, Bernard Mills, a chess master and the designer of the Mills Cross Radio Telescope. He occasionally looked in on our lunch-hour games, and then shuddered away, groaning.

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Cecil was always very generous in his attitude to my career, and never worried whether my earnings were greater than hisnor did he attempt to dictate to me about how to spend them. He obviously considered my taste for buying small home comforts, rather than traveling, to be extremely odd, but he was prepared to let me alone with my little eccentricities, as I was with his. He was always interested in my work, whatever I was doing, and in this case he was also proud of my association-a very tenuous one-with great scientific projects. He liked to meet my friends, and enjoyed talking with and listening to them. If he resented my preferring academic work to joining him in Chess World, he never showed it. He probably realized that at any rate it was much better paid.

Not long after we went to the house at Greenwich, we started a chess club there. There was a big lounge room, and at a pinch we could squeeze in two grade match teams. The club lasted for 17 years, until I felt that the extra work it entailed was beyond me. All the members were roughly in the same age group, except for the junior Purdys, and both socially and from the chess angle it was a great success. I made pleasant friendships through it, some of which have lasted to the present day, and have brought me great comfort in widowhood.

This club was the nursery in which our son John's talents were developed, for there were several strong players there, though of course it was Cecil who taught and coached him-sometimes rather more than John really wanted. Cecil had absolutely no feeling of rivalry towards his son-they were the proudest moments of his life when John won first the Australian Junior and then, in 1954-55, the Australian Championship. He gloried in the idea of a chess dynasty, and never tired of boasting about it. Neverthe-

less, when he and John met in tournaments, it was a matter of "no quarter asked or given." I was at first annoyed, and then amused, by a suggestion that in tournaments they should be drawn against each other in the first round to assure an honest result! Knowing them both, I felt sure they would fight harder against each other than against anyone else.

One of the letters which I appreciated most after Cecil's death came from a very old friend in Melbourne, John Hanks. I quote part of it because it seems to me to sum up the essence of Cecil's greatness as a person.

One aspect of his play that I have always admired was that he played every game and tournament right out. There was never the least suggestion of a careless or uninterested attitude, even on those rare occasions when he was well out of the running.

Though all of us who grew up in the A. C.R. era were noticeably influenced in our play, it was perhaps Cecil's personal conduct which influenced me more, and my own attitude has always been similar. By a rather unjust quirk of Fate, we each unhappily damaged the other at critical times by this otherwise admirable trait.

So far from either of them resenting this unfriendly behavior, it increased their mutual liking and respect. Playing by the same code, Cecil and the son whom he had taught, and in whose exploits he took such pride, battled to the last pawn to put each other out of prizelists.

This was a most active and creative period of Cecil's chess life, but it is not my intention to give data about the events he played in; all this has been done by more competent people in countless biographies

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Diana's wedding to the New Zealand player Frank Hutchings congratulated by Ortvin Sarapu (1960)

and newspaper articles. There were, however, some events and achievements which warrant individual attention because of their special importance to him. In Brisbane ( 1951}, he won the Australian Championship again (for the fourth time} against the strongest field which had ever competed up to that time. In 1952 he played a match with the Estonian-born master, Ortvin Sarapu, for the Australasian Championship, which was drawn; they were declared joint champions. In 1960, when he was 54, he won the championship of South-East Asia and the Pacific, which was played in Sydney, against representatives from New Zealand (Sarapu again), Indonesia, Malaya, and Singapore. Happily, this victory coincided with our daughter's marriage to the New Zealand player, Frank Hutchings, so we were able to invite all the visitors, together with many others of our chess friends, to a double celebration. Cecil contributed greatly to his own and every one else's enjoyment by making a witty speech, and I had vicarious pleasure in the "frippery" of the wedding I

had missed out on when I was a girl. Perhaps inevitably, from our tally of three

grandsons and two granddaughters there has not yet appeared a champion to carry on the dynasty, though as the youngest is two years old there is still hope, if that's the right word. In 1958 John married Miss Felicity Stapleton, a girl who had achieved considerable academic distinction. Their elder son, Colin (CJ.S. Purdy II), was a

promising chess junior; but at 19 his interests are diversified, and he seems likely to seek other, perhaps more profitable, fields.

In 1956 Cecil's mother died, and he inherited a small but welcome life pension from a family trust she had set up. This came too late to do any good to the family, John and Diana having both left school and launched themselves into the job market and independence with praiseworthy speed. It did, however, allow him the luxury of overseas travel-the only thing he ever wanted that money could buy. In 1961 he played an All-Asian Zonal match at Madras, India, against Manuel Aaron, which

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he lost-partly, I think, because he found it hard to adapt to the weather and the strange food. In spite of his love of travel, he was a most unadventurous eater, and must be the only person who has run around in the heat of Madras trying to find a hotel where he could get oatmeal porridge for breakfast. He loved India and the Indian people, and always intended to revisit them someday. In 1964-65 he played in the Australian Championship in Hobart, the town of his childhood, and proudly took me to see the elegant colonial manor, built in 1840, in which he and his family had lived. He was sad to see that the ivy had been removed and the orchard and much of the grounds had been absorbed by other dwellings. As more than 50 years had passed, it was not surprising. In this tournament, at the quite astonishing age of 59, he tied for first, losing the playoff to Hamilton.

I think he felt that the high point of his career-at least as far as over-the-board play was concerned-had been reached when he was chosen as one of the team to play in the Chess Olympiad in Siegan (West Germany) in 1970, when he was 64; he notched up the very creditable score of four wins, four losses, and one draw. The team, bolstered up by [Ed.:Walter] Shawn Browne at Board 1, achieved much their best result up to that time. In 1974 he went again, this time to Nice, as non playing captain, though he did play one game, which he won. This time I accompanied him and we had a wonderful time, especially as the ICCF as usual held their conference immediately afterwards, so that we had the pleasure of meeting people who before that had only been names, to me at least.

At Nice, Cecil received an invitation to compete in an International Masters Tournament at Bienne (Biel), Switzerland, and we spent a fortnight very pleasantly there, Cecil battling away every afternoon and

evening, and quite often in the morning too, while I happily explored the Neufchatel Lakes. Cecil distinguished himself, and certainly won my admiration, by conducting a long, heated, and technical argument in German, a language of which he only understood a few words, on the subject of a breach of the rules by one of his opponents. He won the argument of course-on any point concerning the rules of chess he was likely to be right, seeing that he had helped to formulate them-and was grudgingly conceded his point, the officials obviously considering it was somehow unfair for a man who had to do his arguing with a dictionary in his hand to end up talking them down. His final result was very good, considering the strength of the opposition; he came 23rd (I think) in a field of well over 40, all of IM strength.

Mention of the I CCF ( International Correspondence Chess Federation) brings me to what was probably the climax of Cecil's chess career, and certainly the title which brought his fame overseas. This was his win of the first Correspondence Chess World Championship in June 1953. He had not played a great deal of correspondence chess previously, but he had won the Australian Championship in 1940 and 1948. However, when he embarked on the World Championship in 1947 he certainly had no idea that he would be the ultimate winner. The contestants were divided into 1 1 sections of seven each, the winners of each section to meet in the final- "not a very fair arrangement," Cecil commented in Chess World for August 1948.

The tournament was immensely timeconsuming; it cut very much in to his working hours and left no time at all for social life. The reason he gave for playing was that he would be able to make the time pay for itself with the book he intended to produce. He started work on it, but unfortunately

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John and Cecil at the Chess Club in our Greenwich home 1952.

pushed it aside for 25 years, and then wrote half of it. Had his health been more reliable, he might have lived to see it published. His real reason for playing was the challenge and excitement, the sheer mental pleasure it brought him. He considered it as close to a "pure" form of chess as it was possible to get. Even here, though, accidents could occur. Cecil was diligent and organized over this as he was in few other things, but the whole family went through a dreadful period when he discovered that he had made a clerical error against Mitchell and thrown away what he had expected would be a drawn game. The house was full of boards set up with current games and with notebooks containing columns of hieroglyphics, and it was a miracle that such things did not happen more often.

Disaster was narrowly averted on one occasion when Cecil had actually posted a move and then discovered that he had made an oversight. What was to be done? Only Cecil could have dealt with the problem. He stationed himself firmly outside the

mailbox-1 think he would have chained himself to it if necessary-and waited for the postman to come to clear it. Then he told such a heartbreaking story that the postman allowed him to fossick through the letters till he found his own, open it, alter the move, reseal it, and put it in the bag. The postman doubtless dined out on this story, though not when his superiors were about, believing that this was the move that won the tourney-as, for all I know, it may have been.

As the tournament drew to its close, and it started to look as though Cecil might actually become the first Australian to win a world title at chess, excitement in the Purdy household fairly bubbled over. We could hardly believe it when at last, after Cecil had agreed to a draw with the Swedish player Malmgren, victory became certain, hats could be thrown in the air and champagne opened. The media certainly did well by him, and for weeks pictures and articles appeared, giving him, and incidentally Chess World, all the publicity he could

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possibly desire. He never played in the Championship

again, though after his retirement I urged him to consider it. He had reached the top, and there was no further challenge. It gave us both great pleasure to find that he was still remembered 25 years later, when we received a postcard from Munich signed by officials of the ICCF, addressed to Grandmaster CJ.S. Purdy, O.A., saying "Greeting to you upon this the 25th anniversary of the 1st World Correspondence Chess Championship."

Although the much publicized book of the correspondence games did not come out during his lifetime, he did produce three other books which met with considerable success: Chess Made Easy, in collaboration with Garry Koshnitsky, Guide To Good Chess, and How Fischer Won. The first of these has gone through 24 editions and sold almost half a million copies. I have often wondered how many households where no one plays chess must have a copy lurking somewhere, possibly bought in the hope that some child would learn to play in the school holidays, as Cecil had done so long ago.

In 1976 he received the award of Member of the Order of Australia (A.M.) in recognition of his services to chess in Australia as a player of international standing, an administrator, and a writer. This public acknowledgment of what he had meant to chess in the past helped to sweeten a little the bitter pill he found so hard to swallowthe realization that time was dulling his concentration and weakening his splendid mental powers, and that the moments of glory would never come again. He raced desperately against old age right to the end, and I don't know whether he ever, except in occasional bouts of depression, accepted the fact that it had caught up with him.

Although things on the whole had gone well with him in the Fifties and Sixties, a

few nasty little clouds were gathering. In Chess World for March-April l967 there appears an article headed "No Bitterness," but it is obvious that when he wrote it, he was in fact quite bitter. In 1948 the NSWCA had started to produce their own publication, which gave local news, local games, and dates of forthcoming events. Unfortunately, it was no use these being advertised in Chess World, whose dates of publication were notoriously unreliable. The event was likely to be over before the issue advertising it had come out. Cecil had to acknowledge the logic of this, and he accepted the new publication with a good grace and did what he could to help it along, with the Council's assurance that it was not intended to be a competitor. But as time went on, the membership on the NSWCA changed, and so did their policy in this matter, so that by 1967 they were producing a rival magazine, expensively printed and produced, and featuring overseas news and games with annotations. They were able to do this because they did not have to make the magazine pay for itself, much less make a profit. Subscription was automatic when a player registered with the Association, as of course all active players, including Cecil, had to do, and the costs came out of registration fees. The final blow came when they started printing more copies than were needed and selling the surplus to Gordon and Gotch at a loss. No privately owned paper could stand up to this kind of competition, and Chess World appeared for the last time in Sept.Oct. 1967. Cecil had made a last desperate bid for a compromise, but the "gentlemen's agreement" of 1948 did not bind the new Association members, and apparently they did not consider that horror bound them to anything, either. I think this was what Cecil felt most, for he himself was incapable of behaving in any ungenerous way.

His own attitude was not a very sensible

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Wilfred Wallace, Lajos Steiner, Cecil and Berniejohnson

one. He would have been wise to simply he did it so innocently that he was always hand Chess World over to the Association forgiven, usually without ever realizing that and retire with a good grace, for it had not he had been in disgrace. for many years paid for the time and effort In a brief editorial note (Chess World, he had put into it; but this he simply could Mayjune 1967, p. 104), he disclaimed any not bring himself to do. He had brought the personal animus against individual memmagazine into the world, nurtured it as a bers of the Association. An Association, as sickly infant, seen it grow to robust matu- he realized, has no heart to touch and not rity, and now he had to stand back and much reason to appeal to; it has no regard watch it die. For him, nothing could really for the past or responsibility for the future. take its place. Cecil himself, who had been part of the

Sore though he had obviously been in chess world for so long, was rather in the March-April l967, by the next issue (May- position of the monarch who sees parliaJune 1967) he had found it expedient to ments come and go-or as he, a devotee of hold out a cautious olive branch. His life "Mr. Chips," put it: was still bound up in playing chess and selling chess goods, and he was hardly in a position to pursue the kind of merry vendetta that had been accepted in the chess life of 50 years earlier. Besides, he was never a man to cherish a grudge. He never really disliked anyone, and, even in the face of fairly pointed evidence to the contrary, he found it hard to believe that anyone disliked him-and in fact very few people did. He could irritate and hurt people, but

The Editor of C.W. stands in much the same position in the N.S.W.C.A. as a veteran schoolteacher, who sees one lot of pupils after another pass through the school. Each lot thinks of itself as being the school, whereas to Mr. Chips the school is largely memories, and the present pupils merely the cast that happens to be performing a play whose run is so long that it outlasts them.

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Order of Australia 1976

The NSWCA did compromise to the extent of giving up the grossly unfair system of "remaindering" below cost for casual sales, and with the latest (and present) editor, a friend of long standing, Cecil always had the most cordial relations; he had the pleasure of continuing to annotate games and drive printers into hysterics of rage and frustration with his late copy right up to the time of his death. Of all the many bodies which paid tribute to him after his death, none did so more handsomely or generously than the Association with which he had been jousting since he had entered the lists as a brash youth of 18.

Mter Chess World ceased publication, he carried on for a while with the shop and importing business, but he was not really a business man. Writing was what he liked doing, and what he did superbly well. Why didn't he now write the books which had always been waiting "until he had the time"? Mainly, I think, because although he could discipline himself to meet the dateline demanded by a magazine (even though he did

not always meet it very punctually), he could never discipline himself to producing a set amount of material when there was no set time. He still did so much writing, rewriting, correcting, and starting all over again. In the search for perfection he wasted an incredible amount of time and, over the last years, achieved very little.

It was part of his temperament that he would fling himself into anything which took his interest and work at it furiously, doing with very little sleep and stimulating his flagging mental powers with caffeine; these periods of feverish, often rather aimless activity would be followed by weeks, even months, of profound depression, when he would withdraw entirely from his surroundings, and his exhausted body and brain would be given a chance to recuperate-just in time to be hurled into another round of frantic activity.

In his old age he was able to pursue many of his interests with all the enjoyment of a young man. He played bridge, chess, and tennis (he had been playing in a regular

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four the Saturday before he died). Only a few months before his death he had been joyously dashing around South America, in the wake of the Australian Chess Olympic team. He contributed regularly to the magazine Chess in Australia and did quite a lot of private coaching, which he enjoyed and at which he excelled. Happily for those countless friends who remember him, it was during one of these active periods, when he was having great fun playing in a chess tournament in Sydney, that he suffered a massive heart collapse and died within half an hour. He was actually playing a game when he collapsed, and his last words to John, who was also competing, were, "I have a win, but it's going to take time." He didn't realize how fast his time was running out.

One of the rules of tournament play which he had always impressed on his family was "The only thing which justifies withdrawal from a tournament is death-and even then only with a medical certificate." For himself, even this was not enough. He had to have a number of expert witnesses present to testify that his withdrawal was indeed unavoidable.

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Cecil Purdy's international reputation did not rest on his World Correspondence Championship victory, but on his writings in A.C.R./Checkl Chess World, which earned him recognition as one of the world's best chess

journalists. His secret was that his magazine was the only one in the world that set

out to actually teach its readers how to play better chess. Each volume is a gold mine of instructional articles that give advice on all phases of the game.

These days every time a promising junior asks me how he can improve, my first advice is to read through all the articles in Chess World. Fortunately, back issues of the magazine are still readily available, and one can only shudder to think how low would be the standard of Australian chess had each decade of aspiring players not had Cecil to teach them through the pages of Chess World.

In the folowing pages we have selected one article from each volume of A.C.R.!Check/Chess World, presented in chronological order, as a sample of Cecil's teachings. Anyone who reads through them cannot fail to improve their chess.

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His Writings

EXCHANGING To swop or not to swop. In chess this problem is often an extremely nice one, beset

by all sorts of complex questions. But there is one simple aspect of it, extraordinarily important, which is usually not fully understood and which has never, as far as I know, been specifically dealt with in any book. That is the time aspect.

The general rule is: An exchange loses time for the player exchanging first if the opponent can retake with a developing move. (A developing move is one which brings or helps to bring a piece into better play, or brings you nearer to attainment of a special objective.)

An obvious example from Morphy's famous game against the Duke of Brunswick and Count Isouard, played in a Paris opera box: 1. e4 e5 2. Nf3 d6 3. d4 Bg4? 4. dxe5 Bx£3.

This exchange is forced, but it loses a move; for before the exchange, White and Black each had one piece in play, but after White has played 5. OJJ3 White will have one piece in play and Black none.

The tragedy oflosing a move is brought home to us when we realize that to be three moves ahead in development is, other things being equal, almost invariably a sufficient advantage to win the game. And Morphy was now two moves ahead, for being White gave him one at the start.

Had White been compelled to retake by 5. gxj3, a nondeveloping move, each side would have lost a move in development, and things would have balanced. The point is that if both pieces exchanged are equally in play, the player exchanging first never advances his development because he virtually takes his own piece off the board as well as his opponent's, for it will go into the box next move. The second player will or will not gain a move, according as he retakes with a developing or a nondevelopingmove. Most players realize all this only vaguely, so that they often forget it.

But suppose the first capturer was in play, and the captured not. Then the first player will actually put his own development one move back! If then the opponent retakes with a developing move, he gains not one move but two! The most striking example I can find is from a game PurdyGundersen, Melbourne Christmas Tourney, 1927. The position was:

White played 1. R£8, and Black replied 1... Rxf8 which, of course, lost a move, since White's 4) was brought one move nearer the capture of the ft , its objective. It would actually have paid Black to play the absurd-looking move 1... RcB! This is not merely a nondeveloping move, but a retrogressive move. But it would have made White exchange himself, thus capturing a piece out of play with a piece in play, and himself putting back his development a move as explained above. Then Black would

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have retaken with ... KxcB, developing his �. He would thus have saved a move, and analysis showed that this would probably have made all the difference between losing and drawing.

One often hears a player say, "Well, if I don't exchange, he will, so here goes!" But allowing the opponent to exchange will often save two clear moves. E.g., a game sent by a Victorian country correspondent: 1. e4 c5 2. b4 (the Wing Gambit) cxb4 3. a3 e6. Now White, probably reasoning as above, played 4. axb4? which, of course, is a move-losing exchange since Black retakes by 4 ... Bxb4, a developing move. Had he left Black to exchange fts, White would have gained a move by retaking with his own .1£). This would have made a difference of two moves, and White would have had some compensation for his ft . Such cases arise in nearly every game, most frequently with .§. exchanges.

A marked characteristic of the style of the 1929 Australian Champion was his willingness to allow opponents to exchange off their .lbs for his As. He relied on the gain of time outweighing the small difference in the value of these pieces. Here is an outstanding example from a gem of a game played at board 1 in the N.S.W.-Victoria match of 1923:

S. Crakanthorp-G. Gundersen

1. d4 d5 2. c4 e6 3 . Nc3 c5 4. Nf3 Nc6 5 . Bf4 Nf6 6. e3 Be7 7. dxc5 Bxc5 8. Bd3 0-0 9. 0-0 Nb4

A very plausible exchanging maneuver, but it was fatal.

10. Rc1 Nxd3

1 1. Qxd3 Let us take stock. White needs but one

move to complete his development, namely, with his �- .§. . But Black needs five, one with a ft to free his light-squared A, one with his light-squared A, one with his ¥11 to free the .§.s, and two with his .§.s. He is therefore four moves behind instead of one! How has Black lost three moves? First of all, he lost a move by 2 ... e6, for it prevented his developing his light-squared A in one move. Then his exchanging maneuver lost him two more moves, for 9 .. . Nb4 was moving a piece already developed and 10 ... Nxd3was a move-losing exchange, since White retook with a developing move. White won instructively as follows: 11 . . . dxc4 12. Qxc4 Be7 13. Bc7! Qe8 14. Nb5 Nd5 15. e4 a6 16. Nd6 b5 17. Qb3 Bxd6 18. Bxd6 Ne7 19. Rc7 Qd8 20. Rd1 Ng6 21. Qc2 h6 22. Bxf8 Qxf8 23. Rcl Ne7 24. Qc5 1-0.

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His Writings

HOW TO IMPROVE AT CHESS

COMBINATIONS

The Motif of Function Some players have a habit of saying: "If your Rook wasn't there, I could mate you."

This is irritating, but nevertheless, it is by observing things of this sort that an enormous number of combinations are found.

The :§ in such a case has the "function" (Lasker) of defending his r3f from mate. Now any piece which is burdened with a "function" (defensive task) is thereby enfeebled. Its power in other directions is curtailed or perhaps nil; though it may have a whole ocean of squares to which it can legally move, one must see through all its sham and treat it just as if it did not command those squares at all.

For instance, an undefended enemy :§ is confined to its back rank to prevent a mate by our :§ . Now we can put our ¥!1, say, en prise to that :§ and chase it to another square on the rank, and by this means we may gain some other piece or a tempo. Yet the average player does not readily grasp such opportunities; the mere visual effect of the :§ apparently commanding those squares is too much for him.

In the Lasker-Capablanca position diagrammed after the moves 1. Bxf6 Nxf6? White wins, as Breyer pointed out, by 2. Ng6! The motif of function gives the idea for this move. The f- i has the function of defending the point e6, and the � can be put en prise to it with impunity. But note also that two motifs we discussed in our last

article are also present. The geometrical motif gives the idea of forking the :§ and the "loose" A on e7 with the �' and the encircling motif is really the most important of all, for the real theme of our combination is the attack on the castled r3f, which as we said is to be included under the "encircling" heading. Now in nearly all middlegame combinations, these three motifs all occur together. In this instance, any one of them would give a good player the idea for the combination.

In his Manual, Lasker gives a position from one of Alekhine's games which is a perfect example for our purposes.

L. Kubmann

Alekhine (to move)

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It is clear that combinations are in the air, so we naturally search for possible motifs. The geometrical motif appeals at oncewhite Y/1 and black W and the 4Js on the same open file! But we must not make the mistake of seeking at once for moves to exploit this. If we do, we may waste much valuable time or even forget to look for other motifs.

Learn as much as you can about a position before working out any particular line of play.

So we look for the second motif-any pieces with very few squares to move to. The black 4J, of course, is one, because he is practically pinned; but the black <:#} has but one free square. This automatically suggests a mate, and surely we cannot help noticing that Nf6 would mate but for the black Y/1! Motif of function! The black Y/1 is confined to the sixth rank. Insist to yourself, therefore, that it has no control over any other square; imagine it off the board except that it prevents Nf6, and now what move is suggested? Surely 1. Qb5t! This is the sort of move that is difficult to find without some such reasoning, for it takes the Y/1 away from its apparently deadly post on the file occupied by the black W-just as the hardest chess problems are "changemates." But once we see the move at all, its merits quickly suggest themselves. The reply is forced, 1. •• Nd7. Now the geometrical motif suggests 2. Rfel! Can Black take our Y/1 or 4J? No, because of Nf6#. (Note discovered check and double check as geometrical motifs.) The only reply, therefore, is 2 ... Be7. Now we could win a piece after 3. Q):b6, or play as Alekhine did, 3. Ned6t! Kf8 4. Rxe7 Qxb5 5. Rxf7t Kg8 6. Ne7#.

Now we have our three main motifs for middlegame combinations. Lasker gives a number of others which really all fall under one of the three main heads, and if we are to apply the method of motifs to practical

play, which Lasker does not suggest, we must have a conveniently small number. Under the geometrical motif, for instance, we must consider "loose" pieces which suggest forks, e.g., the "loose" � at e7 in the Breyer combination referred to above. And, as we have already indicated, the motif of the castled W may be considered one of the "encircling" variety.

The student in playing through games should search for these three motifs, and work out all the combinations he can find which are not obviously unsound. Plenty of practice at combinations is most important.

But there are three more entirely distinct combination motifs which belong rather to the endgame. So that in the endgame we have more combination motifs than in the middlegame! These additional three are the motifs of ft promotion, zugzwang, and stalemate.

The Motif of Promotion

The advance of a passed ft is first a matter of position play. We methodicaly play to gain control of the squares through which the ft must pass, and to drive away blockaders. But when it is on the seventh/ second rank, we can often afford to fling our pieces away with the utmost abandon in order to wrench from the enemy the long-withheld coronet.

An example follows: White: ft /a7 attacked by a .!, � /a8. Black: W I c 7.

White wins by Rc8f, sacrificing his � to enable his ft to queen.

Here are two remarkable examples which show that promotion combinations

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His Writings

are not altogether confined to the endgame. A game, Schlechter-Perlis, began: 1.

d4 d5 2. c4 c6 3. e3 Bf5? 4. Qb3 Qb6 5. cxd5 Qxb3? 6. axb3 Bxb1 7. dxc6!! Be4? 8. Rxa7 Rxa7 9. c7 4)- moves 10. c8=Qt 1-0; five moves out of White's ten are made with one ft !

C.L.R. Boyce-Purdy, Australian Championship, Sydney, 1926.

� � g • � ��'f"% �"'f' �tjijj}}��"�� '· '""'t�%"/.'%'"::< � • i1l ·"'Pi1l "' � %0:'�/{ ·� · "� . . . . . 'i

'�-��

,��,� � ·"� ,�� - " � �

C.L.R. Boyce-Purdy (to move)

Black here initiated a combination which at first sight appears premature, in view of his incomplete development. 1 ... b4! 2. Ne2 b3! 3. Nxd4.

Here Black faltered and played 3 ... Qxd4? thinking that after his originally intended line of play, to wit, 3 ... bxa2! 4. Nb3 RhB! White could spoil the combination by the simple 5. Na 1; but Black had overlooked a resource later pointed out by the Australasian: 5 .. . Qs3!

Encircling motif-immobility of 'itf! Or, if you like, "function"-.. . Qs3. White again cannot take the YfJ. He has no defense; indeed, Black must ultimately even queen his ft ! E.g., 6. Kd1! Rxb2 7. Ke2! Rh 1 8. Rdd1 OJa 1 9. Kd2 (Black threatened . . . Rxd1 10. Rxd1 0Jd1t!) QP2, and the ft must queen.

The Motif of Zugzwang Zugzwangis the glorious untranslatable

German word meaning "the plight of having to move." It is sometimes disadvantageous to have to move. Your position is as

perfect as you can make it, and any move must create a fatal loophole. Zugzwang is very frequent in ft endings. An example from a game won by Tarrasch (White) :

White, to play, sees that an impetuous invasion with his 'it> is in vain: e.g., 1. Ke6 KeB 2. j7t KJB 3. Kf6 stalemate; or 1. Kj5 Kj7 2. Ke5 (forced) KJB! and we are back again. White is at his wits' end, till he suddenly notices that if Black had to move, White would win at once, e.g., 7 . . . Kj7 2. Kj5 and Black must allow him fatal entry at g6, or 1 . . . KeB 2. Ke6 KJB 3. j7. This sets White looking for a means of bringing about the same position with Black to move. This is easy: 1. Ke4 ( 7. Kf4) Ke8 ( 7 . . . KgB; if 1 .. . Kf7 ?, 2. Kj5 wins at once) 2. Kf4 (2. Ke4!) Kf8 (still not 2 . . . Kj7?) 3. Ke5! and the deed is done.

In general, the point of a zugzwang combination, as in the example above, is to change the move. In endgames, therefore, keep an eye open for such chances.

The Stalemate Motif The secret is simply to think of stale

mate. If you do, and there is a chance for one, it is seldom possible to miss it. You notice that your 'it> has few or no moves, and that otherwise you have but one movable piece. You then seek a chance to fling this piece away and produce the stalemate. The opponent is tricked, as Lasker phrases it, "by the wording of a rule;" stalemate is quite foreign to the spirit of chess.

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The Motif of Desperado Lasker's motif of"desperado" is of slight

practical importance, because whenever it occurs it is quite obvious. It simply cannot be missed; you see you must lose a piece, so you let him run amok before he dies and sell his life as dearly as possible.

An example from the French Defense: 1. e4 e6 2. d4 dS 3. NcJ Nf6 4. Bg5 Be7 5. Bd3? dxe4 6. Nxe4 Nxe4 7 BxeZ Now Black must save his ¥11, so the � is doomed. Therefore, the black � has become a "desperado," so Z .. Nxj2!Black comes out of the melee a ft up.

Summary

Chess technique-as opposed to chess art-is in the last resort simply the avoidance of oversights. Now the way to reduce oversights is by having, as far as possible, a set method of thinking. I mean, if we just look vaguely for "a combination" we are far more likely to miss one than if we narrow

down our search to six different sorts of combinations in turn. So we do strongly advise the student in his play to run through in his mind at every turn the different motifs we have discussed. Most of these will generally be dismissed in a mere flash of thought, of course.

Let no one think that this amounts to mechanizing chess. The real mechanical player is the man who devotes all his days and nights to chess and acquires a sort of chess sense. Surely there is more fun for the amateur who can attain the same results by less practice but more thought, just as it gives us more pleasure to solve a mathematical puzzle by methodical reasoning than by making intuitive springs at it. In actual practice, it is very, very hard, however, to remember to be methodical. At any rate, the present writer, although convinced of the efficacy of a set method, has never had the patience to apply one consistently.

THE PURDY MYSTIQUE

In May 1992 we published Ralph Tykodi' s compilation CJ.S. Purdy's Fine Art of Chess Annotation and Other Thoughts. The U.S. Chess Federation turned down offers to retail it! In the meantime the whole printing has been sold in bookstores throughout the country. This volume is the first of 5 (!) of some very impressive notes and ideas. A very few copies are available directly from Thinkers' Press at $20.00 + $2.00 S&H.

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His Writings

A SYSTEM TO REDUCE ERRORS

Playing by System

This is something quite original in chess literature, and needs a preface. I have called it "Playing by System," and by "system" I do not mean a system of strategy like that of Nimzovich (which I have already summarized), but a system of thinking to be applied at every move-a sort of chess Pelmanism. A new system of chess strategy (like that of Nimzovich) would not be listened to unless it came from a great master of the game, but the value of a system of thinking can, I think, be demonstrated merely by an appeal to common sense. The amazing thing is that nothing of the sort has ever been put forward before. J ames Mason catches a glimpse of a rudimentary system of thinking in his Art of Chess, p. 355. He says:

Chiefly in avoidance of oversights, question yourself, move by move, somewhat as follows: 1. Object, what? or what does he threaten? 2. Can I let him do it (if anything), or must I stop his little game? 3. What will be the position (generally) immediately [after] I have made this move? In other words, can he take anything not intended by me, or in a manner not intended; can he check, menace an unsupported force or important uncommanded point; or can he make any move surprising me in any of these respects? These are leading questions, put in a moment, and upon the completeness of the answers to them the precision of your play will depend.

This is only a glimpse, nevertheless. Most chess players arrive at their moves

by a series of clumsy jumps rather than by following a chain of reasoning. It is quite otherwise, for instance, with the chemist analyzing an unknown salt. He has definite tests laid down for him to apply to any and all salts, and a definite order in which to perform them. He, too, will make jumps sometimes, because his experience tells him

that certain tests will be useless, but he always follows the set system as a guide. That system has been designed to give the maximum saving of time and energy and the minimum of error. Why should something approaching this not be possible in chess?

The system I am going to put forward consists of a more or less elaborate series of questions which one is to ask oneself. It does not follow that the mere asking of these questions produces the correct answers, but it makes the correct answers more likely than if the questions are not asked at all. It does not enable one to avoid errors due to an insufficient or faulty knowledge of chess, but it enables one to play with the maximum strength that is possible for one with that insufficient or faulty knowledge-that is, it should enable one always to play at one's best! It is only fair to confess that I myself have never had the patience to apply the complete system consistently, although I have sometimes drawn up a list of the mistakes I have made during a tournament, and have proved every time definitely-to my own satisfaction-that the "system" would have saved me from more than

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half of them!

When Not To Use the System Part of the system is to know when not to use

it. When one is following book moves in the opening, or when there is obviously only one good move, there is clearly no need for the system.

If, however, there is a very obvious move, we should ask ourselves, before playing it:

Question 1: Have I anything better, or can I with advantage make any other move first?

An example to show the desirability of this: 1. e4 Nf6 2. NcJ d5 3. exd5 Nxd5 4. Bc4 Nxc3?Here the average player would automatically retake the �' but if he always forced himself to ask the question above, he would have a chance of seeing that 5. Q/3! should be played first. This forces 5 ... e6 and makes it hard for Black to develop his light-squared A. lf at once 5. bxc3,then 5 . . . e5!

Though no single move may be obviously best, the choice may be obviously limited to two or three moves between which it is quite easy to decide, and here again there is no need for the system; only make quite sure that the choice is as limited as it appears!

But suppose, as happens nearly always, that the choice is not obviously limited to two or three moves, or that if it is so limited, it is nevertheless not easy to decide between them. Then we begin applying the system.

First comes the reconnaissance.

The Reconnaissance In warfare, the first step is always the

reconnaissance or survey. No move of any sort is considered before that. So it should be in chess. We should not allow ourselves to go tracing out the consequences of any move that may strike our fancy until a reconnaissance or general survey has been

carried out. Its advantages are as follows: ( 1) It gives a general valuation of the

position as a whole. It is tremendously important to know if one has the superior or the inferior game, and by how much, and also precisely in what the superiority or inferiority lies. It is otherwise impossible to make correct plans or to avoid blunders. To take the most obvious instance, the moment one is at a disadvantage one should cease to play for a win, and should seek a draw, unless circumstances compel otherwise; but how can one perceive when that moment has arrived without examining the position as a whole at every move?

(2) It facilitates the calculation and analysis which is to follow, and prevents "chess blindness." For after a proper reconnaissance you already know what squares each piece commands, so that their possible moves are, as it were, already at the back of your mind, and do not have to be sought so laboriously.

(3) It has a special psychological value in enabling one to avoid "chess hypnotism." It is dangerously easy to fall in love with some move which has struck the fancy, so that it becomes harder and harder to refrain from playing it, even in the face of clearly indicated objections; a preliminary general valuation of the position helps one to see things clearly and see them whole, and so remain sane.

A still more frequent error is to become so intent on a certain plan formed some moves back that one overlooks a fresh opportunity which has arisen through an alteration in the position. The position changes at every move; hence, a plan should be revised at every move. If one keeps revaluing the position at every move, one can tell when the moment has arrived to alter a plan.

For an example, see Capablanca-

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His Writings

Blanco, in Question 3.

What Are His Threats? Practically every player in the world,

however unmethodical, follows a set system at one point in his thinking at every move; as soon as his opponent has made his move, he immediately looks for any threats it may contain. The question to oneself should be put in the form:

Question 2: Mat are his threats? Certainly not, "What is his threat?"

How often does a player, having found a threat, forget to look for others! That, of course, may lead to fatal blunders. Mason puts the question in the form "What does he threaten?" This again does not emphasize sufficiently the dangerous possibility of there being more than one threat. The universal custom of putting this question first is a good one. This may seem to contradict the previous statement that the general reconnaissance should come before any particular moves are considered. But we meant particular moves on our own part. The search for threats is itself part of the reconnaissance. It is not, theoretically, the first part, but in practical play most of the reconnaissance has already been carried out at previous moves (see later), and perhaps partly during the time one's opponent has been considering his move. And the question "What are his threats?" may enable one to see at once that the choice of moves is very limited, and so save the bother of applying the system at all.

On the other hand, it may not. It may be very difficult to decide if a certain apparent threat is a real threat, i.e., if its execution would actually harm us, and to solve this problem much calculation may be necessary. This should not be embarked on till the reconnaissance has been carried further. Again, on finding a threat one should not at once set about searching for ways of

parrying it. Where there is any difficulty whatever about seeing the best move, this problem should also be postponed until one has valued the position as a whole. You may then find that the threat or threats can be ignored. A weak player, on seeing a threat, seeks automatically for a defense against it, while a strong player seeks automatically for a way of ignoring it, i.e., he looks first to see if he can afford to allow the execution of the threat and continue with his own designs.

How To Treat a Threat

One of the most difficult problems I have found in evolving the system is how to treat threats. Till recently, my idea was that one should first ask "Is the threat real?" and answer this by seeking to discover what would result on its execution. This, however, involves a waste of thought, for even if the threat is real, there may be some attacking move on the board for you which will make it unreal, and you are taking no account of this.

The following illustration shows how Capablanca made this mistake in his game with Bogoljubov at Carlsbad, 1929. The moves (Capablanca played White) were: 1. d4 Nf6 2. c4 g6 3. g3 Bg7 4. Bg2 0-0 5. e4 d6 6. Ne2 Nbd7 7. 0-0 e5 8. d5 Nc5?

Before making his last move, Bogoljubov should have adopted the precaution usual in similar positions of playing 8 . . . aS! to prevent the 4J being displaced by b4, but

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in this case he thought he could transpose the moves because of the threat to the e- ft .

Capablanca thought the same, and so defended the e- ft by 9. Nbc3? and Bogo immediately established his 4J by 9 ... aS. Cap a had missed a splendid opportunity, as was pointed out by Znosko-Borovsky, who contributed a list of Carlsbad "howlers" to L'Echiquier. Capa should have played 9. b4, for if then 9 . . . Ncxe4 White wins the piece by 10. f3, so that Black would have had to retire his 4) to d 7 with probable fatal loss of time.

What would be the best process of reasoning for the discovery of this? The question "Is the threat ( . . . Nxe4) real?" would be useless, for in the position as it stands the threat is very real; it is only the move b4 which, by preventing the 4J's retreat to cS after capturing the ft , makes the threat unreal. I therefore believe that the proper treatment is:

Imagine the threat could not possibly be executed. Then what would be my best move? Try out each candidate separately: imagine the position as it would be after this move, and then and only then work out whether the opponent would gain by carrying out the threat.

Making the Reconnaissance

How is the reconnaissance to be carried out? In what follows we assume, for convenience, that the student is confronted with a position that is altogether new and unfamiliar to him. In an actual game this is not so, for each position is usually identical in most of its characteristics with the one preceding. Therefore, it is usually not necessary to go through the whole process afresh, but only to ask:

Question 3: How has that move changed the position ?

This general question comes after the more particular question "What are his threats?"

Example (Capablanca-Blanco, Havana, 1913) : 1. e4 e6 2. d4 d5 3. Nc3 dxe4 4. Nxe4 Nd7 5. Nf3 Ngf6 6. Nxf6t Nxf6 7. Ne5 Bd6 8. Qf3 c6? 9. c3 0-0 10. Bg5 Be7 11. Bd3 Ne8 12. Qh3! White pursues his attack on the black ra;;. Here Black played 12 ... £5.

Now the average player, with White, would be likely to seek for some way of continuing his attack on the ra;;, merely because that is the plan he has been following, and the chances are that by patient search he would find a way, and duly lose the game. If, however, he asked himself the question above, he would realize, more or less clearly according to his strength, that Black's last move has completely changed the position, that the attack on the ra;; is over, but that a new weakness has arisen in the backward e- ft , and that the attack must now be concentrated on that instead. Capa now exchanged As, castled (0-0), doubled his )"is on the e-file, and played c4 and d5, and very soon he was wiping Blanco on his shoes.

A complete reconnaissance, however, must be carried out quite frequently. The first one should be made, of course, in the opening as soon as known paths are left. Again, at any stage of the game, a series of two or three forced moves, or even a single exchange of pieces, may so change the position that a complete revaluation becomes necessary.

Let us assume that Questions 1, 2, and 3 have proved inadequate, and that a complete new reconnaissance is to be made.

1. Material First, we count up the material. This is

very easy, and it is the first thing that any player does when confronted with a new position.

Besides the mere counting, however, one should take special note under this

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His Writings

heading, "Material," of two things: ( 1 ) minor pieces; and (2) ft majorities.

To elaborate this: One should note any of the various possible combinations of minor pieces:

(a) two As+4J vs. two 4Js+ A; (b) two As versus A +4:); (c) two As versus two 4:)s; (d) A versus 4:); and (e) As on opposite colors.

If (a) or (b) obtains, for instance, one always has to consider the possibility of one of the two 4Js exchanging itself for a A and so producing As on opposite colors, which combination has powerful drawing tendencies in the endgame. Also, one should see how the value of each minor piece is affected by the ft formation. E.g., in blocked positions the 4J is usually the superior piece; if there are a great many fts on dark squares, a dark-squared A is usually too immobile to be of much use; while on a fairly open board, especially if the fts are numerically unequal on one or both wings (so that a passed ft can be forced by one party or both), a A is usually much superior to a 4:), both in the middle- and endgame.

And as to ft majorities: "The majority of fts on the 'l!¥-side" is a familiar parrot cry, but few players know just when and why it is a real advantage. It is of no advantage unless both �s are castled on the �-side. If both are castled on the i!¥-side, the majority on the �-side is an advantage. There are two reasons:

( 1 ) A majority in front of a castled � cannot advance before the endgame without exposing the �' so that the player with the majority on the other wing gets a big start with his passed ft ; in fact, his opponent is debarred from getting one unless and until the endgame arrives.

(2) And when the endgame does arrive, our � is all ready to stop the enemy passed ft , while the enemy � is on the wrong side to stop ours (the � is much better at stopping fts than helping them on, for the latter duty forces him to move a long way, and he is so painfully slow).

If the �s are castled on opposite wings, each � is similarly placed as regards his own and his opponent's majority, so it is not in itself an advantage to have the majority on one wing or the other.

Of course, a majority on either of the two wings is always an advantage if the opponent has not a majority on the other. This can occur even with equal fts, e.g., in the exchange variation of the Ruy Lopez after 7. e4 e5 2. NJ3 Nc6 3. Bb5 a6 4. Bxc6 dxc6. Black has four fts to three on the i{y-side, but has not a majority because he can never get a passed ft . This is because he has no ft on a file not occupied by an enemy ft . Black can, however, force a passed ft with a formation like that resulting, also in the Ruy Lopez, after 3 ••• d6 4. Bxc6t bxc6 5. d4 exd4 6. Nxd4. This is because, in spite of his doubled fts, he has one ft (here, the d- ft) on a file unoccupied by an enemy ft , and in a ft ending this can be forced through, though not as easily as with all four fts united.

Having finished with material, the second thing to consider in the reconnaissance is . . .

2. The King Positions The conclusion to be drawn from the

mere counting of material may have to be considerably modified because of the exposed position of one of the �s. An exposed � may be worth a piece to the other side, and so throw into insignificance such weaknesses as isolated fts, which otherwise loom large.

A castled � position is usually weak if

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one of the fts in front of it has been moved, more particularly the b/g-ft or a/h-ft , as it then invites exposure by a pawnstorm.

There is another way a r:; can die besides by exposure, and that is by the reverse ill of suffocation-that is, when he is castled and so hemmed in by his own supporters that he falls victim to a sacrificial mating net.

3. Weaknesses and Strengths Thirdly, we make a mental list of all

the weaknesses and strengths of each side. Of course, one might include both under the heading of weaknesses, for a strength to one side is a weakness to the other; but a 4J, say, entrenched at d6/d3, or �s on the seventh/second rank, and so forth, are much more conveniently considered as strengths to the possessor than as enemy weaknesses. The term "strength" is unusual, but it is the only way to avoid a circumlocution, the word "disadvantage" having drawbacks.

Briefly, the various kinds of weaknesses are, in general:

( 1 ) weak fts (isolated, backward, doubled, or even merely unprotected, as a tempo may be gained by attacking them in this case, even though they may be able to move into safety) ;

(2) weak points or "holes," i.e., squares on one's own side of the board which cannot be protected by fts, and which are open to occupation by an enemy piece;

(3) confined pieces; (4) a generally cramped game.

Strengths are: (1) larger terrain (more than half the

board for one's pieces) ; (2) greater elasticity or freedom of

movement; (3) well-posted pieces (commanding

open files or diagonals, or seventh/second rank, occupying weak points, or blockading

enemy fts in the center) ; ( 4) command of central squares.

4. Development Lastly, we carry out the simple process

of calculating how many tempos either side is ahead of the other in development. This is done not by counting up all the moves made by each side as Znosko-Borovsky rather absurdly does-for some of these may have been completely lost moves, e.g., a 4J which has taken three moves to get from bllb8) to g3/g6 is not necessarily better developed than at c3/ c6, where it could have got in one move-nor even by counting up developing moves, in our opinion, but by counting up the minimum number of moves each side needs to complete its development. Our reasons will appear later.

We have not so far considered combination motifs. The reconnaissance is merely a survey of the position considered statically. Its objects are:

( 1 ) to enable us to tell who, if either, has the advantage on the whole, in what it lies, and how great it is; and

(2) to help us to form a plan if it becomes necessary.

The Reconnaissance: Example

Blackburne

Alekhine (to move)

This position is Alekhine-Blackburne,

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His Writings

St. Petersburg 1914. Let us first apply, in order, the three

preliminary questions. • Question 1: This does not arise, as

there is no obvious move, or if there is, Alekhine missed it!

• Question 2: What are his threats? An-swer: 1 ... Qg5 winning the A, for if 1. a4, then 1 . . . a6, etc. This leads White to the correct move at once, and here we have an example of how these preliminary questions will often save all the bother of carrying out the system in its entirety.

Alekhine, however, did miss the threat and played Nd2??, and duly lost the .il!

If Alekhine missed it, perhaps some of our readers might have too. But need they therefore fail to find the correct move in the end? Not a bit of it! Provided they follow the system right out, the danger simply must come to light!

• Qyestion 3: How has his last move changed the position?

This question assumes that the player has been examining the position of previous moves and so does not need to carry out a complete new reconnaissance, but only to revise his last one. Actually, Black's last move was ••• Kf8 (in answer to Bb5t), and this should have made Black's threat very obvious.

However, let us assume that we have not made any reconnaissance at previous moves. Then let us make one now-we also assume that we have not yet seen Black's threat.

1. Material-Equal; and as to minor pieces and ft majorities, each player has two As and �' and the fts balance numerically on each wing. These observations have not helped us materially so far, but, in other cases, they may give the key to the whole situation.

2. King Positions-The white � is pretty safe, we note, so long as the two diagonals

g1-a7 and h1-a8 remain closed by the black center fts; but the black � will certainly have to expose himself somewhat to let his §. develop, unless the §. comes out very awkwardly by . . . h5, etc.

3. ffi?aknesses and Strengths-Running through the list of all the possible types of weaknesses and strengths, we see that our own (White's) weaknesses are the backward c- ft (and, indeed, the b- ft , for if it moves the square c3 becomes a "hole"), the "hole" at e3, and the lack of mobility of the light-squared .Q.. This piece has only one free square, which fact should at once suggest danger to us and, incidentally, show us Black's threat of ... Qg5 if we had not already seen it. As a matter of fact, this point really belongs to "combination motifs," for the reconnaissance does not deal with particular moves. But we must not obey such rules with such imbecile slavishness as to neglect particular moves during the reconnaissance if they insist on slapping us in the eye.

Although even the feeblest player could now see that Ba4 is White's only move, let us complete the reconnaissance as an illustration.

To continue: White has no particular "strength" except that he can control the e-file.

Black's weaknesses are the isolated doubled fts and, of course, the weak � position; his strengths are his light-squared .il controlling so many important dark squares, and his control of the center squares given by the isolated doubled fts! Thus the latter is simultaneously a strength and a weakness. In any case, it does not look like being a very vulnerable weakness for quite a long time.

4. Development-This position, like almost any possible position in chess, is a good example of the uselessness, even as a preliminary, ofZnosko-Borovsky's idea of counting up all the moves of any kind made

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by each side; for instance, we should have to count Black's . . . Kf8, which is really a minus move.

It also shows, in our opinion, that it is a mistake to rely on counting up even the purely developing moves by each side. For this would give us four for White (the initial moves of the two center fts, the sortie ofthe light-squared .\l, and 0-0), and three for Black (the two initial moves of his center fts and the move of the dark-squared A). But this method takes no account ofthe number of moves Black will need to develop his h-l==L

No, the only sound way, as we have said, is to count up the number of moves each side needs to complete its development. This method has the advantage of applying to all stages of the game instead of only the opening. For instance, in the middlegame (or the endgame) we can often count up the number of moves each side needs to attain a special objective it happens to be striving for; the simplest example is the familiar one of counting the minimum number of moves each side needs to queen a ft .

Let us apply our method to the position before us. It is not as easy as it might appear. The minimum number of moves required by White, we might say, is fivetwo with the 4), one with the dark-squared A, one with the '{:ff to free the a-§ , and one with the a-E( . An experienced player, however, would see that the answer for White is at least six, owing to the clear necessity for expending a move on the safety of the lightsquared .\l.

The minimum required by Black is also six-one with the 4), one with the lightsquared .\l, at least two to free the h-E( , and one with each § , but not necessarily one with the '{:ff, as the '{:ff can, if desired, develop at b6 with gain of time by its threat to the b- ft (subtleties like this must be searched

for) . Thus the first method gave an advantage of 1 - 1/2 tempos to White, while ours gives only half a tempo to White-we give half a tempo to the player having the move.

The objects of the reconnaissance were: (1) to enable us to tell who, if either, has the advantage on the whole, in what it lies, and how great it is; and (2) to help us form a plan if it becomes necessary.

Now, although in the difficult position I have chosen it would not be possible for the average player to give an exact answer as regards ( 1), he would certainly get nearer the mark after a reconnaissance on the lines suggested than without it, and similarly, as regards (2), he would have a much better chance of conducting his game along logical lines; for he knows now where his own weaknesses are that he must try to cover, and where the opponent's weaknesses are that he must try to exploit.

Is There a Combination? Having carried out the preliminary re

connaissance, the next question we ask ourselves in any position is: Have I any sound and correct combination?

We consider it of enormous importance that this should come before any search for a plan. Not until we have answered the question above either with "No" or "Not sure" should we begin looking for positional lines of play, i.e., plans.

Most writers insist that we should always have a plan. This is a very mischievous doctrine. How often does one see a young player of the studious type evolve the most grandiose plan of campaign after long and intensive thought, when quite a simple combination beginning, say, with Bxh7t (Bxh2f) has been all the time staring him in the face?

The ultimate aim, after all, is simply to find the best move in each position, and if we can find it without going to the trouble

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His Writings

of making a plan many moves deep, which may have to be thrown by the board at the very next move, why not do so?

A player who always sets out to form a plan automatically would never see a combination at all, either for himself or his opponent, and would never win a game! The missing of a combination either way is usually a most serious thing, whereas between one plan and another it is usually more a matter of hair-splitting.

It was only after reading Emanuel Lasker's Manual that I made this discovery, namely, that one should always look for combinations before plans, and though like most players I had usually done so all along instinctively, I worked out that if I had made it an invariable rule I should have avoided about 20 percent of my blunders in match games. That is, provided I had also looked for combinations in the right way.

We must take that now as read, and pass on to planning. But we shall return to combination "motifs" in the final examples referred to above.

But a word on the criteria by which combinations are to be judged. A combination, leaving out of account wild ventures embarked on as "the only chance," must be not only sound, but correct. A combination may be sound, meaning that it cannot be refuted, and yet incorrect because it does not make the most of the position.

The reconnaissance helps us here. It has enabled us to form a rough estimate of the amount of our advantage, and if for example we are a .ft up with the better of the position, we should not embark on a combination to win a second .ft if it would sacrifice our positional advantage and give the enemy the initiative. A combination which will not yield the advantage that our position entitles us to expect should be discarded in favor of a positional line or plan.

Here is an example from the second

game of the match between Sultan Khan and Tartakover:

Mir Sultan Khan (to move his 1 6th)

Tartakover

Tartakover's admirable note in L'Echiquier reads:

Black's game is already materially superior . . . . White's last move, 16. a.3, invites Black to win a pawn by the combination 76 ... Bxa3!? 1Z Nxb5 axb5 78. bxa3 Rxc2

79. Rh7 Rc5 {if 20 . . . Ba6?, 27. Rd6!) 20.

Be2 Rxe5 (if 20 ... Ba6?, a4) 27. Bxb5. White, however, would have recovered a field of action and even the initiative.

That is why Black wisely rejects this gift, and chooses by his following three moves a positional plan which consists in undermining White's advance-post at e5 and placing his own Bishop on a very effective diagonal.

16. ••• Be7! 17. Rd2

To free his Knight. 17. ... f6! Following up the plan mentioned

above, whereas the new combination 7Z . . b4!? 78. Ne4! {more enterprising than 78.

Nb7, etc.) bxa3 79. bxa3 Bxa3 20. Rb1!,

etc., would have presented for Black, in spite of the pawn won, much embarrassment.

18. exf6 Bxf6.

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We now leave Tartakover' s notes. Black has realized his plan. This was the position he visualized on his 16th move. White's great strength, the ft I e5, with its cramping effect on Black's game, has disappeared, and Black is bearing down on White's weak �-wing. White is now forced to waste time with 1Ji'jd1 and c3, and then Black, after .. . 0-0 and ... d5, is ready to prepare an ultimate breakthrough on the �-wing by a ft advance.

Sultan Khan realized that White's ft/e5 was the key of the whole position. That is how plans are made: the reconnaissance has told you what are the weaknesses and strengths of each side, and you then set about looking for a feasible method of exploiting the enemy's weaknesses while removing your own, and of removing the enemy's strengths while establishing your own, or at least doing as many of these four things as possible.

Here White's weakness was his �wing, Black's his backward cl- ft ; White's strength his ft /e5, and Black's his two .Q.s, which wanted open lines. See how all these four items have been at least partially attended to.

And the main point is that Black, in visualizing the present position, reckoned that it would give him better winning chances than the tempting combination 16 ... Bxa3!?

One more sermon from this stone: note once again the difference between the working out of combinations and plans. With the combination, what we saw first was the initial move 16 ... Bxa3. It hit us, or should have, in the eye, and we then followed out its consequences. This could be done because of the numerous forced moves, the essential of combinations.

N.B.-If the combination did not "hit us in the eye," we could still find it easily by the "motif" method. The motif of function!

We look for any unit burdened with more than one defensive task or function. The white b- ft ! This tells us that the a- ft's protection is illusory, and 16 ... Bxa3 is suggested automatically.

But with the plan, what Sultan Khan saw first was the future position, and he then sought to bring that position about. His opponent had many possible replies, too numerous for calculation, but all that it was necessary to see was that White had no way of preventing the execution of the plan.

Planning In the last example, we gave an illus

trative position in which a very tempting combination was rejected by a master player for a positional line or plan, and we detailed at some length the working out of the plan.

This time, we give further examples of planning. In each case it is understood that we have already searched for possible combinations, and have found none worth considering.

What Is A Plan? One of the favorite questions of the

heathen to his chess friend is, "How many moves do you see ahead?" Reti's answer to these irritating people was, "As a rule not a single one."

Allowing as few as even three reasonable possibilities at each move, to see three moves ahead would involve holding in the mind 243 different variations, and four moves ahead would bring the number to 2187.

Exact calculation more than two moves ahead is possible only when we can make threatening moves which practically force our opponent's replies; that is combinative play.

How then do we usually think in chess? The answer is that most players evolve the majority of their moves without thinking at

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His Writings

all. They rely on their "instinct" or "chess sense"; this is really the product of accumulated experience. Just as the cricketer instantly selects without conscious thought a more or less correct way of playing each ball bowled at him, so the practiced club skittler selects in a twinkling a more or less correct way of treating each position that arises in a game of chess. Such players are doomed to permanent mediocrity-in chess we mean, not in cricket.

Of course all players develop a "chess sense" in some degree, but only those who make it their servant instead of their master can reach the stage of the second-class amateur.

The other way of evolving moves, apart from combinations, is by planning. The essence of planning is the visualization of a future position of some or all of your pieces. You then seek to play for that position; you do not worry much about your opponent's replies except to make sure that your plan is feasible, and also that you are not leaving any opening for a combination; these exceptions are naturally of vital importance.

A simple example of playing by plan is the book mate with W and � . You visualize the final position with the enemy W on the edge of the board, your own W in "opposition" to it, and your � smugly administering the coup de grace. The position takes quite a number of moves to obtain, but the obtaining of it, once the position is seen in the mind, is ease personified.

We now give a more difficult example, and we select this one first to show how impossible it is to arrive at the same moves by "instinct" as by planning.

Capablanca (to move)

janowski

In this position 999 players out of 1000, assuming they had never seen it before, would play 1 ... e6; Capablanca's move was 1. .. Bd7, and .. . e6 only on his next move! Absurd on the face of it! Black has carefully developed his ¥11-,il before playing . . . e6, and now deliberately uses up a move to put it back where the e- ft will block it. This is a great illustration of a fallacy beloved of chess logicians; that because we did such and such some moves ago, we must do thus and thus now. Actually, we should try to wipe all previous moves in the game from our mind, and plan anew if necessary at each turn, for the position is constantly changing.

Capablanca looked for the things in the position that really mattered. What were the weaknesses on each side? His own were the doubled b- fts, which were immobile and likely to become fixed nuisances. White's was the a- ft . How could Black remove his own weaknesses and exploit White's?

He decided to use the b- ft as a support for a battering ram. He visualized it at bS supporting his 4:\ at c4. If then White drove the 4:\ by b3, the a- ft would be backward. Otherwise, White could only relieve the pressure of the well-posted 4:\ by exchanging it off. That would undouble the b- fts, and the rear member of the previously im-

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mobile unit could then advance down to b4, fixing the a- it or, if the latter had then advanced one square, making use of it as part of a �-side attack.

But first Black must develop his pieces by . . . e6, . . . Bd6, etc. If, however, he were to play . . . e6 at once, not only would he be unable to advance his b- it (because of White's 'itJ-.Q.), but his � could also be prevented from going to a5 and c4 by the pin (Bb5). Hence the plan was quite impossible without first preparing the way by 1. .. Bd7!! White's harmless reply was 2. Be2. Janowski had failed to fathom Capablanca's ideas. He could have put a nasty spoke in Capa's wheel by 2. Bb5. 2 ... e6 3. 0-0 Bd6 4. Rfc1 Ke7! The 'itJ is quite safe here and much better developed than after castling. 5. Bc3 Rhc8. Note that Capablanca carefully completes his development before embarking on his real plan. 6. aJ Na5! At last the real business begins. Note that Capablanca carefully completed the whole of his development first. To have played ... Na5, etc., earlier would have been childish-an assault by one piece against an army! 7. Nd2 f5. White threatened f4 opening the efile on the black 'itJ. 8. g3 b5 9. f3 Nc4 10. Bxc4 bxc4. The pressure of the � was intolerable to White, as Black had foreseen. 11. e4 Kf7 12. exf5 exf5 13. f4 b5.

"All as the weird sisters promised." Black now formed a new plan, to fix White's pieces on the �-side by threatening ... b4 (by doubling the �s on the a-file), and then to break up the 'itJ-side by ... g5 in due course, and to occupy the g-file through the greater mobility of his �s.

For remember that it is usually quite easy to defend against an attack concentrated on one side of the board only. The final assault is nearly always a switch-over, bringing in the element of time. Black carried out this plan and won the game.

We do not ask the student to study this

example with great care. What is wanted is for the initial move, the surprising . . . Bd7, to grip his imagination and inspire him to take a delight in making real plans of his own.

We now give a very famous example. Capablanca again. It is Black's move. He is a it down. How is he to gain compensation? White's weaknesses are the a- it and b- it . Capablanca therefore visualized the following position: �s/ a8/b8, .Q. where it is on g7, and �/c4 supported by the �- With the combined pressure of all these forces against the two weak its, he expected "to regain the material lost while at the same time keeping the initiative."

Capablanca (to move)

Nimzovich

White, however, threatens to complete his development in a very few moves. It is therefore necessary to impede him by combining the carrying out of our plan with direct threats against merely temporary weaknesses, e.g., the e- it . So: 1 ... Qe6!!

This makes room for the � to proceed to c4, and at the same time forces White to lose time with a defensive move. Not 1 .. . Q!;7, for the � is needed to support the �/ c4. 2. f3 Nd7 3. Bd2 Ne5 (another direct threat en route) 4. Qe2 Nc4 5. Rab1 Ra8 6. a4.

White should have let the a- it go by 6. b3 Nxd2 7. Qfd2 RaJ. He was greedy. 6 ... Nxd2 7. Qxd2 Qc4! 8. Rfd1 Reb8 9. Qe3

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His Writings

Rb4 10. Qg5 Bd4t 11. Khl Rab8. Black's plan has succeeded. Clearly he

must at least regain his ft , and also retain the initiative.

It will be seen that Black hardly needed to take a single one of his opponent's replies into consideration when making his own moves. Nor would it have profited him to do so.

The subject of planning in chess is much too important to be hurried over; we give another illustrative position.

Lasker

Tartakover (to move)

The position diagrammed arose between Dr. Tartakover and Dr. Emanuel Lasker in the New York tournament of 1924.

Mark this! The plan executed by Lasker here is a perfect example of"prophylactic" play, yet this conception is not supposed to have been unleashed on the chess world until the publication of Mein System by Nimzovich two years later! It gives me much pleasure to illustrate the main thesis of the "freakish" Nimzovich by a specimen of the play of Lasker, the apostle of "common sense."

We are to see how 'Th.rtakover came to grief through defying Nimzovichian Principles, and how Lasker triumphed by employing them.

It is White ('Th.rtakover) to move. Students of Nimzovich will recognize that the

center is occupied by two ft chains; the white chain consists of the fts/e4/d5, and the black chain consists of the fts/e5/d6, the bases being respectively at e4 and d6.

White's obvious plan, to this student, is therefore to attack the base of the black ft chain by c5, and the initial preparatory move is at once suggested, namely, b4. It will then remain to bring further support to the square c5 by Be3 and Rc1, for Black, after .. . b6, will have three units protecting that square.

Alekhine says in the book of the tourney, "To be sure, the breach by c5 would not easily have been carried out; nevertheless, it would have been a plan to accord with the position which might have been prepared without risk."

For the benefit of those to whom the "pawn chain" is Greek or worse, it may be pointed out that once the white c- ft arrived at the fifth rank, White would be constantly holding over Black's head the threat of opening the c-file; White could double his �s on that file, while Black, before he could do the same, would have to wait till the file was opened. This would clearly put the initiative in White's hands, as far as the i!_¥-wing is concerned.

Black's obvious counter-plan would be to prepare an attack on the base of the white ft chain by .. .j5. But this would be an even more difficult process. To free the f- ft Black would first need to play .. . h6 and .. . Nh7, or something equally anemic, and, furthermore, his pieces are by no means ready to make use of the f-file even then. Alekhine suggests that Black might try at once 1 ... Nf4, "to assure himself of two Bishops." But then after 2. Bxf4 exf4 3. Nj3 followed by Rfe1 and Bfl (a change of plan dictated by the change in the ft position), he notes that Black would have been confronted with a triple task, "first and second, to reckon with the possibilities bound up with c5 and e5, and third, to guard the f-pawn."

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Actually, White indulged in a tempting course of playing for a <tti-side attack by 1. £4!? Black naturally replied 1. .. ex£4, for this gave his only chance of counterplay; White's e- ft , the base of the ft chain, is now a permanent weakness, and if Black can weather the attack on his <tfi-wing he will have a telling pull. The procedure against an isolated or backward center ft is, in the words of Nimzovich, "First restrain, then blockade, then destroy!"

To restrain a ft means to guard the square in front of it, so that it cannot advance without being lost; to blockade it is to place a suitable piece on that square, so as to stop it advancing at all. The weakness is then fixed irrevocably, and the final process, destruction, is ready to begin.

2. Bx£4 Nx£4! Naturally! The A was an "anti-blockader," besides being a mobile unit for attack. Alekhine remarks, "White has temporarily extended his range but in return has surrendered to his adversary permanent advantages, such as the control of the dark squares and the weakness at e4."

That is the point: Black's advantages are permanent, while White's is temporary. If, therefore, White's attack should fail, he is doomed.

3. Rx£4 Be7!! Here is the beginning of the "prophylactic" maneuver. The piece to be used as the blockader at e5 is clearly the 4:'1; it must go there via d 7; for this the �-A must get out of the way. Meanwhile, White is massing against the undefended f-ft ; this point must be protected before the 4:'1 can begin its maneuver.

Both aims, the defense of the f-ft and the removal of the �-.il to make way for the 4), can be accomplished by placing the <tti-)':'( at f8 and the �-A at e8. Black's last move makes room for the )':'( , and also develops the A for the purpose of making use of the weakened dark squares.

In actual play it would be extraordi-

narily difficult to conceive such an apparently retrogressive regrouping, for it is only a few moves since Black played his <tfi-)':'( to e8 and his <tfi-.il from f8 to e7! This proves my contention that previous play should be ignored, and one's plan thoroughly overhauled at every move, since the position is always changing.

It looks at first sight as though Black is not taking adequate measures to restrain the e- ft . Can White not play now 4. Nf3 (threatening e5) ?No, because of . . . Nh5!trapping the )':'( .

4. Raf1 R£8!! 5. Qd3 Be8!! (Completely shutting in his )':'( ! According to copybook strategy, Black has already lost about six tempi in the opening.) 6. Qg3 Qd8!! (Not at once .. .Nd7 because of Bg4 pinning the would-be blockader.} 7. Ndl Nd7! (On the previous move, this would have led to the pin Bg4.) Now at last the full meaning of Black's pitiful-looking shuffling is clear. Black's <ttf is absolutely safe, and Black has complete control of the dark squares. His <tti-A, having no enemy A to challenge him, is terrific; his 4:'1 is ready to occupy e5. The weaknesses created by White's plausible 14th (l . f4! ?) are strangely brought to book. White should now have played 8. Nj3 or 8. h4, remaining, however, with a potential disadvantage after 8 . . . Bf6, as Alekhine points out. Instead, White goes for tactical chances.) 8. Ne3 Bg5!! [Ed.: Much of this paragraph was revised based on an obituary notice and eulogy for Lasker in the 7947 ACR to correct errors in the original September 7937 ACR article.]

A combination! And not the obvious .. .Ne5, even though Black has been playing for that move from the start. This shows how important it is to look first for possible combinations at every move, and not to become obsessed by a plan, however artistic it may be. A chess player must be an opportunist as well as a planner.

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His Writings

The positional play ends here, but we continue for the student's interest.

The motif for the combination here is the "enclosing motif," the motif of a piece of small mobility and therefore liable to be trapped. Such a piece is the l=':(/f4.

9. Rg4. If 9. R4f2, . .. Bh4. If 9. R4f3, .. . Ne5. If 9. Rf5, .. . Bh4 followed by ... Ne5 or ... g6. White must lose the Exchange: 9 ... f6! 10. Qf2 h5 11. Rg3 h4! (not ... Bh4, 72. Rxg7f! with chances) 12. Rg4 Bh5 13. Nf5 Bxg4.

And the game is decided. Black's play is all wonderful, and the morals drawn from it above will be of great value to the student if he will store them in his memory.

Playing by System Before completing the discussion on

planning, I propose to set out the complete system whose various parts I have been explaining.

As you have seen, the system consists of a series of questions which a player is to ask himself at every move. Of course, if he finds the correct move with certainty before he has asked all the questions, he does not need to complete them.

Here are the questions. The student might copy them out onto a single sheet of paper, and keep the sheet standing up facing him when playing over master games, on which he should practice the system.

I might remark that it is vain to imagine that one can keep the system for important match games and not bother to use it at other times. Unless he practiced using the system slavishly for a long time, it would be quite impossible for anyone with blood in his veins to keep it up throughout a single game. As remarked before, although the writer has proved the efficacy of the system beyond doubt-he has never been able to train himself to use it consistently throughout a game.

Curiously enough, the writer evolved a simple form of the system-without any mention of combinations, for example-very soon after learning the moves. Then he merely kept on elaborating it as he imbibed the views of various writers, chiefly Lasker, until it took its present shape .

It is to be understood that you do not use the system in the opening while the game continues along a line familiar to you, that is assuming that you are quite certain that the "book" moves are the best available. As soon as the stage is passed-it may be on the third move or the thirteenth-you begin using the system.

The System (It is my turn to move.) 1. Is there an obvious move?

If so, have I anything better, or can I with advantage make any other move first?

2. Or is the choice clearly limited to a very few alternatives which I can decide between most easily without using the system?

3. What are his threats? Consider each threat as follows: Can I

ignore it? To answer this, imagine the threat could not possibly be executed. Then what would be my best move? Imagining that move played, would my opponent then gain by executing the threat?

4. Who, if either, has the advantage? In what does it lie, and how great is it?

If Question 4 does not tell us this, we must carry out a complete reconnaissance of the position, 5.

5. Make a reconnaissance, considering:

• ( 1) material, including minor pieces

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and ft majorities; (2) � positions. • Weaknesses and strengths. Weak

nesses are (1) weak fts, (2) weak squares, (3) confined pieces, ( 4) a generally cramped game. Strengths are (1 ) larger terrain; (2) greater elasticity, (3) well-posted pieces, (4) command of central squares.

• Development, counting the number of moves each side needs to complete its development.

6. Now answer 4. (Our answer to 5 (What are the weak

nesses and strengths of each side?] is to serve as a criterion for judging the value of combinations or of plans.)

7. Have I a sound and correct combination?

To help in answering this, look for the presence of the following motifs.

I. The geometrical motif (pieces on the same line, pins, pieces liable to a fork, loose pieces, etc.).

2. Motif of confined pieces, including the castled �.

3. Motif of function. See if any unit is burdened with more than one defensive task.

The next three motifs are endgame motifs.

4. .ft promotion. 5. Zugzwang. 6. Stalemate. Having hit upon the initial move of a

combination, visualize the position after that move, see what are all his possible replies, what I could do then, and so forth.

8. If not satisfied that the answer to 7 is yes, what is my correct plan?

To help in answering this, use the reconnaissance. What are all the weaknesses and strengths of each side? How can I best exploit his weaknesses and establish my strengths, remove his strengths and my weaknesses, or do as many of these things as possible? What future position (of all the pieces) should I visualize? Can I attain it?

9. What, finally, are all the moves I have to consider?

About each, ask "What could he do ifl did this?" looking for combination motifs from the other side.

(It is his move.) Spend your time in making a general

reconnaissance. Then when he has moved, Question 4 will be sufficient to answer Question 5.

Look for combination motifs, as in Question 7.

Carry the reconnaissance (7) even further by examining what squares are commanded by each piece on the board.

A general examination of the position pays much more than calculation based on his possible moves, unless one is in the midst of a combination and is fairly certain of the opponent's next move, or is short of time and one's only chance is to have one's reply ready.

In such cases, or where you have reconnoitered to saturation point, imagine him to have played a move, and then think as though it were your turn to move.

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His Writings

THE SNARE OF THE ODD PAWN One of the least questioned of all that horde of little maxims beloved of the pious

woodshifter is, "When a pawn up, exchange at every opportunity." Yet we venture to say that it has turned many a won game into a draw. A striking

illustration occurred in a vital game in an Australian Championship, Koshnitsky-Crowl.

F.A. Crowl (to play his 1 4th)

G. Koshnitsky

In the diagrammed position, Crowl did what almost anyone would do without hesitating. Being a ft up, he simplified by 14 ... cxd4 15. cxd4 Q.xd2 followed by 16 ... Nxd4; it seemed such a clear case for following the maxim. Yet, as will be seen from the full score of the game, Crowl found himself face to face in a few moves with almost a dead draw. By simplifying, Crowl threw away his chance of making the odd ft tell!

The objection to the course he took is simply that it loses a clear tempo, as the exchange of �s immediately opens up the way for White's other .§. to develop.

An exchange where both pieces are in play loses a tempo for the exchanger if the second player recaptures with a developing move.

Here 16. Rxd2 is certainly a developing move, as it helps White to double .§.sor to develop his �-.§. elsewhere.

Black would have obtained far better winning chances-in our opinion a definitely winning position-by 14 . . . 0-0! This simple and straightforward move immediately produces equilibrium in development, the opposing .§. s being exactly similarly placed, and, forgetting about the ft plus, would be the one a strong player would naturally choose. Therefore, we maintain, it should have been chosen anyway. Our theory might be stated thus:

A ft plus frequently proves insufficient for winning an endgame if it is accompanied by a disadvantage in position otherwise. Therefore a single ft plus in the middlegame does not justify us in playing for exchanges where it involves submitting to the slightest positional disadvantage.

But we must examine 14 . . . 0-0further. Does it not lose a tempo too, for cannot White, by 15. @2, force Black to retreat his lt thus keeping back his development one move? No, because White's @2 is equally non-developing; his � was already in play, just as Black's .Q. was already in play.

This move, 15. @2!, is clearly the only one we have to fear; it has a double threat (dxe5 and 0Jb7) while keeping the cl- ft protected. Therefore, let us examine the variation to corroborate our general remarks. 14 .. . 0-0! 15. @2 cxd4 16. cxd4Bf6 1Z OJb Z What else? Black threatened .. . Rd7, etc., and while the �/b2, the cl- ft is pinned and forms a fine target.

7Z .. Nxd4 18. Bxd4 Bxd4! Better than

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getting off a pair of .§s, for now Black is able to threaten . . . RfeBon Move 20. With .\ls on opposite colors, exchanges for their own sake are wrong.

79. QfeZ (If 79. Rfe7, . . . e5 20. Re2 RhB; and if 27. Q,d5, say, ... Rh5, doubling on the b-file with great effect.) The ft at e5 establishes Black's .ll where it dominates the board.

79 ... Qfa2 (after 19. Qxe7)20. Q§2. Practically forced, for Black threatens . . . RfeB, and White's �-� cannot develop while the f- ft is menaced. 20 .. . Qfe2 27. Bxe2 Rd6. White is now at a distinct disadvantage, apart from his ft minus, for he cannot double �s (if Rd2, . .. Bxj2t; and if Rd3, ... RfeB!, also winning) . .\ls on opposite colors come nowhere near ensuring him against loss, for all the .§s cannot be got off. We give one possible continuation just as an example. 22. Rh 7 a5 23. Rh3 a4 24. Ra3 Ra8 25. Rh 7 Bc5 26. Ra2 (if 26. Rc3, ... Rd2 2Z Bf3 Ra5) a3 2Z Rh3 Rh6!

This exchange is offered to free the .\l, which aims at b2. Black should then win, owing to the superior mobility of his � .

While development still remains uncompleted the habit of thinking in tempos is a valuable one to acquire, for during that phase of the game a tempo has a pretty constant value, varying roughly between a third and a half of a ft . For the benefit of the beginner, we explain that a tempo is the time-value of a move. It is what you lose if your development is held up for a move (while your opponent's goes ahead), or what you gain if you yourself make a developing move and he does not.

As an illustration of what a tempo can do, let us see what a difference it made to Koshnitsky's game against Crawl.

After 14 ... cxd4 15. cxd4 Qxd2 16. Rxd2 you see that White has gained a tempo? We have the original position with the same player to move (Black), with the

difference that the two c- ft s

and the �s are off (cancel them out, as the �s were both developed pieces), and White's .§ is on d2 instead of d 1. This difference means that White will need only one move to double .§s instead of two. He has been presented with a clear tempo.

There followed 16 ... Nxd4 17. Bxb7 0-0 18. Rfd1 Rd7 19. Bxd4 Bxd4 20. Bc6 Rd6 21. Rxd4 Rxc6. Now White draws by Rd7 ( .§ on the seventh rank), but had White not had that extra tempo, and played the same way, Black would have captured first, and would forestall Rd7by .. . RftBthreatening .. . Rc7, winning. In other words, Black would be able to keep equilibrium in development, and this, as usual, would make the ft plus decisive.

In conclusion, we invoke Alekhine. The observant student of Alekhine's games can see that his favorite way of exploiting a ft plus is to seize an opportunity of returning the ft for an equivalent positional gain. He just goes on remorselessly making the most of his position, and only exchanges for the endgame where he can do so without making any positional concessions.

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His Writings

THE SNARE OF THE SWOP This article shows the evil of a time-losing exchange. In the diagrammed position, the very natural but time-losing exchange 10 ... Bxc4?

decided the Victorian Championship!

A.A. Faul (to play his I Oth)

G.R. Lamparter

The position is very instructive. First of all, there may still be some new readers who do not see that a tempo is lost: the point is that after one move on each side (10 ... Bxc4 11. Nxc4) a developed A on each side has left the board, and a white � has moved into play-net result, White has gained a tempo in development on Black.

Any exchange of two equally developed pieces loses a tempo if the opponent recaptures with a developing move. If he recaptures with a non-developing move, no time is lost or gained; such an exchange would be Bxe6 in this position if it were White's move, Black replying with .. .fe6, a non-developing move (as it helps no piece into play).

Black was tempted to exchange by the prospect of quickly playing .. . Nd5-the � must move to allow the dark-squared A to come out, and d5 is clearly the �'s right square. And he saw that if 10 . . . Nd5 at once, White would answer Ng5, forcing an ex-

change of � for A which would be unfavorable to Black.

And perhaps Black thought, "Why should I worry about the rights and wrongs of this when I can dispose of the burdensome Bishop at once simply by exchanging it?" He took the lazy way, the way of "simplification." But frequently the wages of simplification is death, and so it was here.

Black did not "think in tempos," as we want our students to do. That is, he did not reflect that after 10 . . . Nd5 1 1. Ng5 White himself lost a tempo in development by his move of an already-developed �. There was thus a difference of two whole tempos between this way and the way chosen, and the unfavorableness of parting with the A for a &2) and getting a slightly weak ft (at e6) could never be as unfavorable, in the opening, as the loss of two tempos (the equivalent of a whole flank ft) . Thus, without any analysis at all, Black could have dismissed 10 . . . Bxc4 as inferior to 10 . . . Nd5.

However, some analysis will be very instructive.

Demonstration by Analysis After 10 ... Bxc4 1 1. Nxc4, some readers

may wonder why Black should lose. If we count up the number of moves each side needs to complete its development, we find that White needs only four ( d3, A moves, -Qy moves, 'Uy- );:! moves-his �-);:! is already on an effective file), while Black needs no fewer than six. It is Black's move, so we take off half a tempo, leaving White 1 - 112 tern-

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pos ahead. That is, White is only one tempo off a winning advantage already. White also has two spatial advantages, his threat of posting a 4) in Black's vitals at d6 (after Ng5-e4 if necessary) and his mobile advanced .fts. Black has some advanced .fts, too, but they are not so mobile, as White is going to blockade them by d3.

What a different tale there is to tell after 10 . . . Nd5, the straightforward developing move! White is only half a tempo ahead, for he now needs an extra move to complete his development (his 'lt;t-4) cannot count itself developed on the miserable square a3). A corollary is that the possibility of posting a White 4) at d6 is "off." Furthermore, White's advanced e- .ft is blockaded.

Let us see what would have happened: 70 . . . Nd5 77. Ng5 b5 (the student should see how ... Qg7?? would lose the game, and ... Be7? a .ft ) 12. Nxe6 fxe6 73. Bd3! This threatens Q,h5f and is the only move to cause Black any worry. Now that Black's light-squared � has vanished, White's is a great force. However, White is backward in development, his 'lt;t-4) being especially feeble, and Black has equal chances-better than a forced loss, which 10 . . . Bxc4 gave him! After 13 ... g6 (practically forced), Black's right course will be ... Qg7, ... Be7,and ... 0-0-0! followed, as soon as may be, by .. . g5! to break White's .ft center or open the g-flle

for attack. Note that 'lt;t-side castling is safe enough, for Black will answer a4 later with .. . b4, blocking the 'lt;t-wing completely, e.g., 13. Bd3 g6 14. Be4 Qj,7 15. d3 Be7 16. Qg4 0-0-0 17. h4!? (to stop .. . g5) RdgB! 18. Nc2 h6 79. a4? (if Bxg6?, ... Bxh4) b4, followed by ... g5, which White can no longer stop.

Thinking In Tempos Thinking in tempos helps to make chess

easy, but remember it is not always exact, for a "developing" move that puts a piece on its second-best square is not as good as one that puts it on its best square; some rough allowances have to be made. Still, our rule of counting a tempo as worth a third of a center .ft and half a flank .ft -in the opening only-will be found a useful guide. Remember, it is only in the opening that a tempo can be given a standard value . When both sides have developed their forces, the value of a tempo usually tends to diminish, at least temporarily, for one's big job for the time being is complete, and as Nimzovich puts it, there is a difference in going to sleep over your work, and after it! Indeed, you cannot strictly be said to lose or gain a tempo at all unless there is some job on hand which asks to be done in good time, e.g., development, an attack, a defensive maneuver, getting a .ft to the queening rank, etc.

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His Writings

GENERAL ENDGAME STRATEGY The endgame starts when the forces are so reduced that mating attacks are off. That

being so, it is virtually impossible for either side to win without ultimately queening a ft . Therefore, the object of mate is replaced by the object of queening a ft . Why does this object rarely engage our attention in the middle game? Well, the great number of moves necessary and the assistance required from pieces-first of all to make a passed ft , and then to get it to the queening rank-would give the opponent time for a vital attack, owing, directly or indirectly, to the vulnerability of our 'it>. With that vulnerability removed, we are free to concentrate on queening.

Nevertheless, just as we don't open the game with the idea of checkmating-see "Law of Combat" [Ed.: will be reprinted in "CJS. Purdy's Fine Art of Chess Annotation Vol. 2 '}-neither do we start off in the endgame with the idea of rushing fts forward before everything else. If we do, the fts will simply be cut off and foully murdered. No, we must "develop," i.e., get all our fighting pieces in as good positions as possible.

And now the 'it> is a fighting piece. This follows from our definition of the endgame. He is no longer vulnerable to mate, except by easily avoidable accidents-and should therefore be used to the full.

If you already have a passed ft , however, it is occasionally good to advance it even with "development" incomplete, in order to draw away enemy pieces. But if you have only a majority of fts, which must all advance before a passed ft can be made at all, it is the height of folly to move them without developing as fully as possible first.

fts, of course, are real acquisitions in the endgame, whereas in the middlegame they were only obstructions and valuable merely on account of the prospect of an endgame. But even in the endgame, ft sacrifices to gain time, especially time for advancing a passed ft , are very frequent.

In "The Law of Combat" it was men-

tioned that the most important squares in the endgame, apart from center squares, are squares in front of passed fts. Note here that it does not always require a superiority of force to help on a passed ft . If you have a passed ft on e5/e4 and want to play it to e6/e3, you only need to have the same number of pieces commanding e6/ e3 that your opponent has. This tells us that the efficient way of stopping a passed ft is to "blockade" it, i.e., place a piece right on e6/ e3 itself, provided it cannot easily be driven off.

For example, white passed ft at a4, white E! behind it at al, black E! somewhere. Now it will pay Black to play his E! to a5, if possible, for then he not only blockades the ft itself, but ensures that the white E( will command only three squares of the a-file, i.e., only three ranks, while Black commands four. Reducing the mobility of enemy �s, and increasing that of one's own �s, is the main secret of � endings.

The position diagrammed occurred in a challenge match in Sydney.

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J. Cornforth (to move)

A.E. )eater

Black is two its up, and should win. Cornforth, becoming careless, decided to offer exchange of .§s in order to play . . . a5, etc., and get two united passed its. The play went 1 ... Re5? 2. Rd6 a5 3. g5 Kh5? Thus, Black reasoned, I shall get it for it . But this maneuver contravenes a cardinal maxim of rtl play: Don't play the King to the side of the board. Rarely does a it pay for the time lost.

4. gxf6 Kxh4? 5. Kf4! And White wins, owing to his threats of mate, e.g., 5 ... ReB 6. f7 threatening Rh6 mate. Or 5 . . . Rh5 6. Rd1 !, etc. If 5 .. . e3, 6. Kxe5 e2 7. Rd4t, etc.

Black lost because he evolved a plan out of his own fancy instead of out of the nature of endgames. His plan was too slow.

Black had an advanced passed it , and his first thought should have been to use it, just as in the middle game a mass of pieces round your opponent's rt/ makes you look first for a mating attack. Clearly 7 ... c3 fails. Therefore you look at ... Rc6first, and quickly see that you can paralyze White's .§ . We have 7 . . . Rc6! 2. Kxe4 c3 3. Rd1 c2 4. Rc1.

This is a good time to mention Tarrasch's Rule once again: Whether an advanced pawn is your own or the enemy s, your Rook is best placed behind it.

The reason is that the further the it advances, the more squares on the file are given to the .§ behind it. The point that an enemy .§ in front of a it stops it advancing

altogether is of relatively small importance. If the .§s were transposed in this posi

tion (the position after 4. Rcl), Black could win by checking, but White could have played in such a way as to avoid this. With no safe check available, the black .§ /cl would be powerless.

As it is, the passed it is stopped, but the white .§ is paralyzed while the black .§ has the freedom of the board. Black wins either by .. . Rc3 or . . . Rc4f.

This ending illustrates two principles( I) that the lord of the endgame is the passed it ; (2) that .§ endings are largely decided by the number of squares commanded by the respective .§s.

Note the word "advanced" in our version of Tarrasch's Rule. If the passed it is only at a4/a5, an enemy .§ is obviously best placed on the square immediately in front of it, i.e., "blockading it." For then the supporting .§ is confined to his three back ranks. If the it is at a3/a6 or a2/a4, the blockade is still better. It is not the blockade of the it that matters; it is the blockade of the supporting .§ ! The principle of it -blockade in the middlegame is just the same.

BOOK STUDY

During his tour in the Northern Districts, Mr. Koshnitsky emphasized that while it paid to devote a little study to the openings, study of the endgames paid better. "Don't talk disparagingly of 'book' players," he said; "it is only book players that are any good!"

Endgames are themselves of immense practical importance. But for beginners and average players, the study of endgames has an added value. It helps your middlegame play. In the middlegame, the basic principles are at first obscured by a multitude of pieces; in the endgame, they shine out clearly. If you want to learn juggling, you start with two oranges-not a snooker set.

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His Writings

SOME VITAL PRINCIPLES ILLUSTRATED

The Rook The following simple but most instruc

tive little endgame occurred in the simultaneous exhibition given by the writer at the Metropolitan Social Chess Club.

Mr. H.F. Pike, one of the heroic 60-odd who braved flood-rain and cyclone, proved invulnerable till the following )"( ending was reached, when he fell into an error which not many players could have avoided.

It illustrates the following three vital principles of endgame strategy:

1. In Rook endings, become the aggressor at all costs. Two fts up will frequently not win a )"( ending, while no fts up with a strong initiative nearly always will.

2. The W is a champion ft blockader. Therefore, prefer to have passed pawns on the side where the enemy King does not stand. Two united passed fts on the sixth/third rank win unaided against )"( , �' or � in any position, but a W in front of them stops them easily.

3. Rook and pawn on the seventh/second rank with the enemy King confined to his back rank, two files or more away, win against practically any power on earth.

As always, cover the moves below the diagram with a card-otherwise you derive less benefit. Then look at the diagram.

H.F. Pike

Purdy (to play)

White is a ft up, but cannot keep it. Black's )"( has an open board, while White's has not. White's first care is therefore to open up an avenue of attack. This is easy. How?

1 . h5 Still cover the moves below. Black now

has two ways of capturing a ft ; either ... Rxc4, which leaves him still a ft down after 2. hxg6 and makes his f- ft isolated, or else . . . Rh4t, which regains the ft and leaves White's )"( still "biting on granite." Which?And why?

1. . . . Rh4t? Like 99 players out of a hundred in

over-the-board play, Black is tempted by the bait of equalizing the material; but this move loses the game. For the Ws are both on the w-side, so that passed fts on the w-side will be easily blockaded, whereas i;¥-side passed fts will be deadly. Also, the black )"( is taken out of play (at h4) for one move, whereas at c4 he would still be free as the mountain air.

Black should have disarmed White on the i;¥-side by 1 . .. Rxc4. Then 2. hxg6 Kg7 3. Rxj5 Kxg6. Black is now a ft down, but his )"( is so mobile (threatening both . .. Rc2 and . .. Re4) that he draws easily.

2. Kgl Rxh5 3. Rd2

So White gets an avenue just the same! 3. . . . f4 4. Rd7

White should win, for he gets passed ft s on the i;¥-side and has the additional advantage of "Rook on the seventh/second rank absolute." That is, he not only has the glorious seventh rank, but he confines Black's W to the eighth-see Rule (3) above. If Black had a sheltering ft on f7 or g7, he could emerge, but now his confinement is "absolute."

4. . . . Rxe5 Feeble would be 4 . . . a5; White would

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get a passed ft all the sooner by Rh 7. In El versus- El endings, where you have the choice, take or attack rather than attempt to run away or defend. Pawns cannot escape from Rooks by running away.

5. Rxa7 6. b4 7. Kf2

g5 g4 Re3

To play .. . g3fwithout White answering Kj3. This ft race is no use, because of Rule (2); but any attempt to disarm White on the �-side comes too late. See next note.

8. a4 g3t 9. Kf1

9. . . . Re4 Instructive is .. . . Rc3 10. a5! bxa5 17. b5

Rb3 12. c5! Rxb5 13. c6 Rc5 14. c7. The ft must queen, because Black's ra; is confined to his back rank. See why that makes all the difference? If 9 . . . Rb3, 10. c5 wins.1

10. Rc7? 10. a5, making a passed ft quickly,

wins much sooner. 10. h5 1 1. a5 bxa5 12. b5!

On principle, it is best to have your El on the file adjacent to the passed ft . For when both El and ft are on the seventh,

suppose Black has his El on his back rank. In order to queen his ft , White must play his )':'! to the eighth rank, and he cannot do this until his El is on the file adjacent to the ft .

12. h4 13. b6 h3 14. gxh3 f3 15. b7 Resigns

For if . . . g2f, 16. Kf2 Re2f 17. Kxj3 g1=Q. 18. bB=Qjand mates.

Emphasis has been laid on the importance of attacking in El endings, even at the cost of material. The general reason is that a El is too valuable a force to waste on defense. A defensive task ties him down.

But another reason is that a El has a special advantage not possessed by a A or a 1£): he moves in the same direction as a ft . This makes him very good at:

1. attacking enemy fts; 2. backing up non-blockaded passed

fts on their way to queening. For once a El gets on a ft's file, he

commands every square along that ft's route. Consequently, an isolated ft cannot escape from a El , and a passed ft backed up by a El can keep advancing even though every square on its route is under fire, so long as it is not blockaded, i.e., walled up by a piece directly in front of it.

The Passed Pawn That the endgame begins and ends

with the passed ft cannot be too often reiterated. Mere superiority in material goes for nothing when there is a dangerous passed ft in the offing. Below is a classical example.

1 Ed.: It's not quite so obvious to most of us, but in lieu of Purdy' s remarks two paragraphs down, it would seem that the win is in: 10 . . . bxc5 1 1 . b5! Rb4 12. Rc7 c4 13. a5 Rxb5 14. a6 Ra5 15. a7 +-; if l l . . . c4 12. Rc7 c3 13. Ke2 Rb4 14. Rxc3 Rxa4 15. Rb3 Ra2t 16. Kf3 Rf2t 1 7. Ke4 f3 18 . b6 fxg2 19. b7 Re2t 20. Kf5 Re8 2 1 . b8=Q

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His Writings

By the way, a few striking examples fully discussed are much better than a large number that soon flit from one's mind. I find that what helps me most in endgame play is the memory of a few such positions which have seized my imagination; the principles which they have impressed on me have come to my aid in endgames quite unlike the actual position remembered; indeed, I would usually be quite unable to set up the "remembered" position exactly. And I think most people have this sort of vague picture-mind.

It will be interesting to compare Alekhine's notes from the Book of the New York Tournament 7924 with Reti's in Masters of the Chessboard.

Tartakover

Capablanca (to play his 27th)

Each side has a �, so it is a question of who can attack first. If it were Black's move, he would have time for the file-opening move .. . c5, followed by depredations with his .§ . But White has the move. What is his corresponding file-opener? Clearly another file must be opened, for the e-file offers little prospect; the black � defends the end of it, and eS would be a feeble post, as Black would easily secure himself with . . . c6.

Notes ending (R) by Reti; notes ending (A) by Alekhine.

2 7. h5! This is the calamity-the .§ now enters

the hostile camp (A) . 2 7. Rf6 28. hxg6 hxg6 29. Rhl

White plays logically to utilize his advantage on the �-side, and very properly does not concern himself with the weakness of his �-side. Black, on the other hand, makes a defensive move which he could perhaps have omitted (R).

29. RJ8 30. Rh7 Rc6 31. g4!

Anxious natures might have moved the � towards the �-side, but Capablanca adheres to the principle of aggression that governs .§ endings (R).

31. • . . Nc4 32. g5!

He gives his opponent the opportunity of winning a ft . But Capablanca has confidence in the passed ft which he obtains (R).

Threatening Rh6 followed by f5, and against it there is nothing to be done (A).

32. . . . Ne3t 33. Kf3 Nf5

Or 33 .. . Ndl 34. Rh6 Kj7 35. f5 Rxc3 36. fxg6f KgB 3Z Ke2 Nb2 38. Bf5 with an easy win (A).

34. Bxf5 Simple and compelling (A). 34. . . . gxf5 35. Kg3!!

It is extremely instructive to see how Capablanca is no longer in the least concerned about material equality, but thinks only of supporting his passed ft (R) .

Decisive! White sacrifices material in order to obtain the classical position with �lf6, ft /g6, and .§/h7, whereupon the black fts tumble like ripe apples (A) .

35. Rxc3t 36. Kh4! Rf3 37. g6 Rxf4t

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38. Kg5 Re4 39. Kf6!

It is a frequently available finesse in such positions not to capture hostile fts, but to pass them by in order to be protected in the rear against checks by the )':( (R) .

39. Kgl 40. Rg7t Kh8 41. Rxc7 Re8 42. Kxf5

Again the simplest. Kj7 would not yet have been disastrous because of RdB, etc. (A) .

42. Re4 43. Kf6 Rf4t 44. Ke5 Rg4 45. g7t Kg8

Mter exchanging )':(s, White would win still more easily (R).

46. Rxa7 Rgl 47. Kxd5 Rcl 48. Kd6 Rc2 49. d5 Rcl 50. Rc7 Ral 51. Kc6 Rxa4 52. d6 Resigns

In the words of Reti, Capablanca's management of this endgame . . .

. . . gives the impression of being so natural that one easily forgets the difficulty of such precise play. The difficulty is chiefly psychological. In chess, as in life, one is so accustomed to place value on the material factors that it is not easy to conceive the idea of indulging in pawn sacrifices when there is so little available material.

- 60 -

His Writings

PLAY WITH THE PIECES We all play a great deal of rotten chess-some more than others-and one of the roots

of the trouble is the tyranny of the .ft. . There are still many players whose idea of winning a game of chess consists in

grabbing a .ft. and struggling through somehow to an endgame-where, they fondly believe, a .ft. plus is an automatic win. Here we see the tyranny of the .ft. in its vilest and most nauseating form. But there are degrees, and even in master play we find weak moves being made through an insufficient contempt for .ft.s.

To get away from the tyranny of the .ft., you need to start looking at chess from an entirely new angle. Picture the game more as a hand-to-hand struggle between the pieces. The woodshifter, as the name implies, sees the pieces as blocks of wood, whereas the real player, whose eye "in a fine frenzy rolling, cloth glance from heaven to earth, from earth to heaven," sees them as units of energy which he can combine in beautiful ways, just as the musical composer can build up bewitching melodies out of a scale of mere sounds, each in itself no more interesting than a wooden chess figure.

Don't look at chess in this way because it is romantic. It is, but look at chess this way because it is the way to win. Contrary to the general notion, a positional advantage-that is, a better disposition of your forces generally-is always easier to exploit than an equivalent advantage in material, even for the weakest player. Even in the endgame, a positional advantage will more readily win. If your pieces are poorly posted in an endgame, a .ft. plus is frequently insufficient to win. On the other hand, the very slightest positional advantage in an endgame will often grow and grow like a snowball-without any mistakes by the opponent-until a win is easily forced.

Thus we see that a .ft. + is not the ideal sort of advantage even for an endgame. And in the middlegame, it is usually no help at all. So by winning a .ft. at a heavy cost in position, you are deliberately making the middlegame hard for yourself, for the sake of something that should not turn out to be of much use even if you get to an endgame, assuming that your opponent retains his positional advantage. Surely a silly, as well as despicable, way of playing chess!

We can now see why Alekhine was always so anxious, after winning a .ft. , to return it for an advantage in position. One often hears about Alekhine's "dynamic" style. "Dynamic" is just a clever way of saying that he plays with the pieces.

A DYNAMIC MOVE

I can illustrate what I mean by "playing with the pieces" or "dynamic chess"

with a single move. It was made by Capablanca against Lasker at St. Petersburg, 1914. The diagram shows the position with Capablanca to play.

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Lasker

Capablanca (to play his 1 9th)

Before reading past this paragraph, think what move you would play here, or rather, what you would have played if you had not been told there was something special.

Tarrasch says in the book of the tourney that 99 players out of a hundred would have played 19. Nj3, and his computation cannot be far out. It looks so obvious! In one move, the 4J can develop himself, free the lt and protect a ft which Black is threatening to capture.

The fallacy in this reasoning-truly a popular one-is that the ft needs defending.

Capablanca rebelled against the tyranny of the it and looked at the position from the viewpoint of the pieces. Undoubtedly the 4J should move, thus freeing both himself and the -'1,, but where to? What square gives him the most power? Thus Capablanca was led to play:

19. Ne4!! At e4 the 4J has a far better range than

at f3. Most important, he counters Black's natural developing move .. . Bc5, and threatens, after defending the e- ft by f4, to win a ft himself by Nc3. And if Black takes the e- ft at once, he loses a valuable tempo in development, enabling White to get all his pieces into beautifully aggressive positions. The game continued:

19. . . . Rxe5

Played only because anything else loses. 20. Rd1 Be7 21. f3!

This quiet move shows how silly it is to lose your head just because you have given up a ft . Some players think they have to institute a desperate attack. Here White simply supports his 4J on its center square, frees the back line from mating threats, prepares the way for � development later, and threatens Bf4-the last being, of course, the most important.

21. . . . Rf52 22. Rc8

And Black must give up the c- ft , as

... c5would lose by 23. RcxdBfand 24. Nd6f. When you have a strong initiative in

pieces, you will always arrive at a position, like this one, where the opponent is forced to disgorge his ill-gotten gains, often with interest.

A FAMOUS EXAMPLE

There is no better illustration of "playing with the pieces" than Capablanca's 15th to his 25th moves in his game against Nimzovich at St. Petersburg, 1914. We give the play leading up to the crucial stage, as it bears on the discussion.

Nimzovich-Capablanca

1. e4 e5 2. Nf3 Nc6 3. Nc3 Nf6 4. Bb5 d6

Black submits to temporary cramp in order to avoid a drawish symmetry.

2 [Ed.: Black caves in. Even moves like 2 1 . . . c6 or 2 1 . . . 0-0, in spite of White's Bf4, seem more survivable than 2 1 . . . Rf5. 2 1 . . . c6 22. Bf4 Rd5 23. Rel (23. Rcl ?! f5 24. Nc3) 0-0 24. Real+.]

- 62 -

His Writings

5. d4 Bd7 6. Bxc6!? Bxc6 7. Qd3 exd4 8. Nxd4 g6!?

More solid was .. . BeZ 9. Nxc6 bxc6

10. Qa6 Qd7! Probably Nimzovich hoped that Capa

blanca would play 10 . . . c5? to save a ft . Then White would get a positional advantage instead, by 1 1. Qs6f Nd7 12. Bg5!

Rather than submit to a marked positional disadvantage, always give up material. The loss of a ft ; the Exchange for a ft ; or ¥f1 for �, A and ft : all these cause absurdly disproportionate alarm to the majority of players. So long as you have a little positional superiority in compensation, there is not the slightest need to become timorous or desperate.

1 1. Qb7 ReS 12. Qxa7 Bg7

Let us take stock. How many tempos for the ft ? The white ¥f1 has so far lost three moves, and will have to lose another in getting back to safety. The black � has lost one, and will have to return to a8, making a total of two moves gone West. Thus Black has gained two tempos for the ft . This is quite enough for a flank ft in general, in the opening, but here we must remember that White has gained the very definite advantage of a passed ft . Furthermore, White's fts are nearly all unmoved, displaying few weaknesses. All in all, any woodshifter

Bewitching - Hypnotic Purdy doesn't even comment on Lasker's 21... Rf5?! and yet authors sueh as S. Tarrasch (in hls writings of the tournament) refer to Lasker's hypnotic influence because Tarrasch says "Lasker bewitehes his opponents! And not only his opponents, but the whole chess world! Capablanca, and after mm the entire chess world, did not see that he could have won the Knight and thereupon probably the game with 22. g4 Rxf3 23. Kg2 Rb3 24. Nc5 Rb4 25. Nb7 . . . the power of suggestion (upon Capablanca) that Lasker exerted over him, with the strange move Rf5, in the place of which castling was objectively better." Basically it seems Purdy missed 22. g4 also whlle it is very doubtful Lasker did. However, moves like 2L. c6 and Tarrasch's suggestion of21 . . . 0-0 seem to hold the position. Purdy also fails to mention that Lasker drew this game in lOO moves! The funny thing is that Purdy mentions this on the previous page. Interestingly, editor Dale Brandreth notes that Tarrasch's comments were excised in the Leipzig 1921 edition, possibly because the German publication Deutsches W� {July 19, 1914) believes Black obtains the advantage with 25 ... 0-0 26. Nxd8 Rg4t 27. K-any, and 27 .. . f5 with the threat ... Bd6 and .. . g5. Also interesting is that after White's 27th move D. W. says "Apparently, however, Lasker has been bewitched here by Capablanca." Even though Purdy's original purpose in this article was to commend Capablanca's spirit for ignoring the protection of the pawn on :e5, it may have been temperate to have shown just how complicated this position really is and to note how "psychological" considerations can, at any time, raise their head over all the objectivity one can try to muster.

Editor

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would consider himself in clover in White's position.

In what follows, we are not concerned with improvements that might have been made in White's defense. All we want to show is that Nimzovich played quite reasonably all the time, and yet found himself with a dead loss in a dozen more moves. The point that needs emphasizing is that, no matter whether you are a ft up or not, it is always very difficult to play correctly when the enemy has the initiative. This is simply because he calls the tune; you have to allow for a hundred and one things that he might possibly do, and under a time limit this is a very serious handicap. You may feel you ought to win, but you are playing against loaded dice. So it is here with White.

13. 0-0 0-0 14. Qa6 Rfe8

It will now be seen why White chose to bring back his ¥k via a6. At e3 (the alternative square), it would have been badly placed, and would have had to shift any-way.

15. Qd3 With the quite sensible idea of killing

two birds with one stone-defending the e- ft and centralizing the ¥/1.

Now, how is Black to proceed? It is easily seen that he has no combination available. Therefore, he must depend on a plan. To do this, he enumerates the weaknesses and strengths of each side. This reconnaissance should show him that he has but one advantage that is at all permanent-his command of the long dark diagonal. He must try to make White move his ¥/1-flank fts forward so as to accentuate this advantage. Above all, Black must achieve this design with a succession of smites if possible, else White will complete his development, leaving Black with no advantage at all.

15. . . . Qe6!

16. f3 Nd7 17. Bd2 Ne5! 18. Qe2 Nc4

If now 19. b3?, . . . Bd4f 20. Kh1 Nxd2 followed by . . . Qs5, winning a piece.

19. Rab1 Ra8 20. a4

Playing to save the precious passed ft , which would be lost after 20. b3 Nxd2 21. ()Jd2 RaJ. But this greed seals White's doom.

20. Nxd2! 21. Qxd2 Qc4 22. Rfd1 Reb8!

Not satisfied with merely regaining his ft with advantage, Black puts on more pressure.

23. Qe3 If 23. Qj3, · · ·0"5fand then . . . Rh4! 23. Rb4 24. Qg5 Bd4t 25. Kh1 Rab8!

White is now completely jammed. In desperation, he decides to give up the Exchange.

26. Rxd4 27. Rd1 28. h4

Qxd4 Qc4 Rxb2

Unlike most ft -hunts in the opening, this one of Nimzovich's was quite sound and correct. And yet it led to disaster. Failing to start off correctly, with 14. f3!, which would have given his ¥/1 a retreat at f2 when needed, he just drifted imperceptibly to perdition. How much more likely are you to lose when the ft -grab is of a more doubtful character!

Therefore, when in doubt, don't!

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His Writings

THE PLAY FOR POSITION AFTER THE OPENING It is extremely difficult to play a perfect opening, but quite easy to play a reasonably

good opening. To play a reasonably good middle game is far less easy. The reason is that in the opening your object is always the same-development. But

when development is completed you have to find a new object, and that object depends on the position.

Having discovered a good object-say the posting of a � on c5/ c4-you seek moves that will fit in with your object. This is planning, or position play.

But-this is where the books fail to warn the student-before you begin looking for a plan, make sure there is no good combination available, i.e., a forcing line of play starting with a threat. You can do so much more with a combination than a plan; therefore, at every move in every game you play, look first for a combination.

List of Combination Motifs and the Normal Ways of Taking Advantage of Them

1. Exposed King. Expose him more. 2. Castled King without a protecting piece

(such as a � on f3/f6/c3/c6) . Quick sacrifice of a piece to bring about mate.

3. Any undefended unit. Fork it, pin something on the line of it, or attack it to gain a tempo.

4. Forkable units. Fork them. 5. Masked battery. Unmask. 6. Big pieces on some file, rank, or diago

nal. Pin. 7. Pinned unit. Attack it. 8. Any tied unit, e.g., piece protecting

another piece or back row from mate, etc. Attack it or put something en prise to it.

Assuming that there is no sound combination available-there rarely is one early in the game, unless your opponent has done something rather silly-and also assuming that you have no more pieces to be developed, your problem is to find a plan-a good plan, and if possible the best plan.

The first step in finding a plan is to enumerate the weaknesses and strengths of each side.

List of Possible Weaknesses and the Normal Way of taking Advantage of Each

1. Weak squares. Post pieces on them. 2. Weak pawns. Fix them, and then

make the opponent use pieces to defend them.

3. Pawn moved in front of castled King. pawn storm, provided stormer's W is not endangered.

4. Confined pieces. Prevent freeing. 5. Generally cramped game. Keep

cramped; prevent freeing moves. 6. Backward development without cramped

game, i.e., pieces as yet undeveloped but with good squares free to them (no disadvantage in space, only time). Look again to see if there is a combination; if not, use your temporary superiority as best you can.

List of "Strengths" and Normal Ways of Removing Each

1. Well-posted piece. Exchange. 2. Greater terrain. ft -advance to gain

space. 3. Greater elasticity. Loosen your own

position. 4. Control of center. ft -challenge.

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AIM OF PLAN

A plan will aim at one or more of the following four objectives, according to relative importance and feasibility, and according to which side has the initiative. For example, if you have a strong initiative you do not, for preference, set about trying to remove your own weaknesses, if any, but rather to exploit the opponent's.

The four possible objectives: 1. Exploiting enemy weakness(es). 2. Removing enemy strength(s). 3. Removing your own weakness(es) . 4. Establishing your strength(s).

PRACTICAL EXAMPLE

In actual practice, planning always works out much more simply than these lengthy tables and lists would make it appear. As a rule, only two or three of the listed phenomena will occur in any one position.

Our first example is from the match Capablanca-Lasker, Havana 1921, for the world's championship.

Capablanca-Lasker

1. d4 d5 2. N£3 e6 3. c4 Nf6 4. Bg5 Nbd7 5. e3 Be7 6. Nc3 0-0 7. Rcl Re8

The score stood at 3-0 against Lasker, which accounts for his anxiety to avoid the beaten track.

8. Qc2 9. Bd3

10. Bxc4 1 1. Bxe7 12. 0-0

c6 dxc4 Nd5 Rxe7 N£8

13. Rfd1 Bd7 Observe that at every stage where it

was feasible to make a developing move, White has done so-with the sole exception of 3. c4, which, however, is a move made for the ultimate purpose of development (by its aid, White gets useful files for both .§s) .

We advise all players who are not experts to follow this principle always-except where the opponent, by a bad move, gives the opportunity for an early combination.

True, Reti mentions a case where he was partnering Capablanca in a consultation game, and Capablanca refused to play the natural developing move "which Morphy would have played as a matter of course." Well, a move Morphy would have played cannot be very bad. In short, the natural developing move in a position is always a good move, even if not perfect, while any other move is usually bad.

As for Black, it is obvious that he is deliberately giving himself a cramped game in the desperate hope of inducing White to overreach himself.

White has now completed his development. His next move is the one most players would make, and requires no comment.

14. e4 Nb6

It is now time to think. First of all, it is obvious that no combination is possible. What then? The � has a choice of four squares. As none of these four possible .1;1-moves would carry a threat, none is obviously better than the others. It would only

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His Writings

be waste of time to try to calculate the possible results of each in turn. The thing to do is to discover what is our correct plan of campaign, and then make whatever move fits the plan best.

We first proceed to enumerate the weaknesses and strengths. In the first place, White has no weaknesses, and has a pronounced strength in his greater control of the center. Evidently he has to look out for a ft challenge by ... c5 or . .. e5 at some stage.

Black's castled W is well protected, and there is no ft moved in front of it. Nor has Black any weak fts.

He has weak squares, at d6 and cS. The only way to take advantage of these would be by e5 and Ne4, but, as the position now stands, this would give Black a splendid post for his �-4) at dS. Therefore, such a plan belongs to the future rather than the present, and we must try to drive away Black's 4J by a4-a5 first, if possible.

Finally, Black has a generally cramped game.

To this last fact our reaction should be: Can I keep him cramped? What freeing moves might he aim at? Answer: ... c5 or ... e5. Can I prevent them?

We can prevent ... c5by answering ... RcB with b4.

Thus we have already ruled out one plausible A move, namely 15. Bb3.

What about the other freeing maneuver, ... Ng6 followed by . .. e5? Most players would reason that the only way to stop . . . e5 is to meet .. . Ng6by e5 (after all). If this plan is chosen, then 15. Bd3 seems the move, in order to use the diagonal if we have to open it by e5. This idea is quite good, and there is no reason for a student to become discouraged because Capablanca chooses a different plan and plays 15. Bfl. Fine shades only count in master play. The important thing is to choose a reasonable plan, and play the move that seems best to fit it.

15. Bfl Capablanca's choice of this move sim

ply shows that he did not intend to meet 15 .. . Ng6by e5 (not caring to give Black dS gratis), and therefore his A would be merely an obstruction at d3. Far better at fl, where it can obstruct nothing.

Capablanca may have intended to allow Black to play ... e5, knowing that he would be able to reap a little advantage from the opening of lines, being better developed. More probably, he intended to stop it by answering 15 .. . Ng6 with 16. h4!, which indirectly prevents 16 ... e5because of 1Z h5 exd4 18. hxg6 dcx3 19.gxh7f, since 19 . .. Kxh7 would lose by 20. e5f KgB 21. Ng5 (threatens mate because White's � is not obstructed by the Bishop!) g6 22. e6!, etc.

But do not get the idea that it is necessary to look so deeply to play chess well. As already stated, 15. Bd3, intending to meet . .. Ng6 with e5, is quite a good plan, and should retain an advantage.

15. . . . Rc8 16. b4 Be8

We could now proceed at once with our plan of driving the black �-.:'£) away from the command of the square d5, by 1Z a4, and, once again, this would be quite good. However, it is a good principle in chess to consolidate every advance-leave nothing undefended.

17. Qb3 18. a4! 19. a5

Rec7 Ng6 Nd7

Now our course is obvious. 20. e5 b6 21. Ne4 Rb8

We are now right into the middlegame, and to go any further would trespass on the preserves of this article. However, it may cheer the student to know that Capablanca did not conduct the entire game like a machine. Here he should have played either 22. a6 (logical, to prevent all freeing maneu-

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vers) or 22. Qg3; but he made what is really quite an elementary slip, with 22. Qc3? This enables Black, after 22 ... Nf4, to come into d5 with a gain of tempo. Black thus obtained quite a playable game, and only lost through mistakes further on.

So much for the "machine-like accuracy" myth, and there is comfort here. Chess is too big for any man to play perfectly; all that any player can aim at is to do his best.

The next example is from the 1 1 th game of the Alekhine-Capablanca match of 1927, possibly the greatest game of chess ever played.

It illustrates the most difficult type of position play-that is, the management of equal positions.

Our aim will not be to show how the precise moves chosen by Alekhine and Capablanca could all be worked out by an ordinary player, but simply to show how to think in such positions. If the student can learn to plan logically, he will avoid serious errors and recognize such errors when made by his opponent.

Again, one must warn the student against becoming discouraged when, in spite of his best efforts, he fails sometimes to play exactly the same move as a master. It so often happens that one move is almost, if not quite, as good as another; the thing is to avoid moves that are really against the spirit of a position.

Don't play this game just for instruction. It is really quite thrilling to watch how, without any but the most infinitesimal errors by Capablanca, who plays the game splendidly, the balance of power edges by almost imperceptible degrees against him, and how Alekhine ultimately forces a win by black magic.

Capablanca-Aiekhine Cambridge Springs Defense

1. d4 d5 2. c4 e6 3. Nc3 Nf6 4. Bg5 Nbd7 5. e3 c6 6. NfJ

The natural developing move. Many players now consider it a shade better to prevent the Cambridge Springs by 6. cxd5 followed by Z Bd3. But that is by the way.

6. . . . Qa5 7. Nd2

As is well known, White must interrupt development here owing to Black's strong threat of ... Ne4. Particularly rotten is Z Bd3 ??, as Z .. Ne4 then wins off hand.

7. . . . Bb4 8. Qc2 dxc4

Here Black interrupts his development voluntarily. In compensation for the time lost, he forces White to exchange a strong .Q. for a �.

But the natural developing move 8 . . . 0-0 is quite playable, and was adopted by Alekhine in a previous game of the same match.

9. Bx£6 10. Nxc4 l l. a3

Nx£6 Qc7

"Putting the question" to a A does not count as an interruption in development, unless, of course, the opponent can exchange off the A without suffering disadvantage.

1 1. . . . Be7 12. Be2

Here Bd3 is not a bad move, but there is no justification in this position for planning a �-side attack. Much better to put the � on the fianchetto diagonal, as Black is bound to play for . . . c5 sometime, and then that diagonal will come open. The rule for

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His Writings

close games is: Post your pieces where they will become

usefol if the enemy breaks through in the center. This plan can never fail, for if you thus

deter the opponent from breaking through, that is itself a gain.

But the better method of fianchettoing was, as usual, g3 and Bg2 instead of Be2-Bj3.

For it decreases one's mobility or elasticity to place a piece in front of pawns, especially in or near the center.

True, weakening ft moves can also be dangerous, but here Black must himself castle on the w-side, and so could hardly make anything out of the "weakness."

12. . . . 0-0 13. 0-0 Bd7

It would be a mistake to fianchetto here, as Black will have great difficulty in enforcing ... c5, and until then his ¥11-A would be a prisoner. If 13 ... c5 at once, he would get into trouble through 14. Nb5. The text prevents this, and therefore threatens . . . c5.

Now let us take White's side. His development is not complete, but White has at least attained the important stage where his )"is are "connected," i.e., have nothing between them.

When your Rooks are connected, if there is no open file for one of them to take it is quite permissible to postpone completion of development in favor of some other usefol maneuver.

In other words, one can consider oneself in the middlegame when the opening has got to that stage, and plan accordingly.

Going through the lists given in the previous article, we soon come to the conclusion that Black has only one weakness-a generally cramped game.

Automatically, we look for possible freeing moves by Black. Obviously, .. . c5. This suggests:

14. b4! Even here, however, it would have

been quite good to continue development

simply by 14. Rfd1 or 14. Rac1 on the principle that:

The opening of lines should favor the better developed army.

14. . . . b6 This move will have to be played some

time if . . . c5 is to be enforced. However, )"\ development first was equally good. The order of moves is frequently vital, but here, a toss-up.

15. Bf3 16. Rfd1

Rac8 Rfd8

17. Rac1 Be8!

At last development is completed by both sides. This is where many players begin to feel "bushed." But this apparently complicated position all centers around one simple issue-Black's freeing move, ... c5.

The move is not threatened at the moment because of the reply dxc5 bxc5, b5! Black would then have a passed ft , but efficiently blockaded and therefore valueless for the middlegame, whereas White would have a potential passed ft that would be very hard indeed to blockade.

Has Black any other feasible freeing move? Possibly .. .Nd7 and . . . e5, but this is obviously feeble, as White could answer . .. Nd7by e4, and if then ... e5, d5!

Any other freeing move? Yes, .. . Nd5, threatening an exchange. Any exchange is freeing to a cramped game. This suggests 18. e4, which was White's

simplest and possibly best move. If then 18 . . . Qf4, threatening to dominate the

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�-side, certainly White would be virtually forced to offer the exchange of '(gs by 19. Qj2, but Black's other pieces would remain cramped.

Capablanca evolves a more subtle and elaborate plan. He decides to permit . .. Nd5, which will give him time for a regrouping maneuver by which he hopes to prevent . . . c5, and also be able to open a battery onto the ft/c6. He cannot do this while his �/c4 is in the way.

18. g3 The full point of this will soon come to

light. In a way, it lends weight to our note on Move 12.

18. . . . Nd5 There is a special point in this threat

ened exchange. Mter it, White could no longer play b5, so that it renews the threat of .. . c5.

19. Nb2! Now ... c5 is again prevented, e.g., 19 .. .

c5? 20. Nxd5 and White wins a ft ; or if first 19 . . . Nxc3, 20. Q!c3 c5. White has time to utilize the pin of the c- ft by doubling ,§ s onto it.

But if White had not played g3, Black could throw a negro [Ed: of course Purdy is referring to one of Black's chessmen.3] into the woodpile (preferable to a spanner) by .. .Bd6. This would unpin the c- ft by defending the '(g, and White would have to lose a move in protecting his h- ft .

As it is, Black is confined to a passive unpinning of his c- ft , and Capablanca is thus able to execute his regrouping plan.

19. . . . Qb8

3 [Ed.: Ralph (compiler) and I debated whether we should leave this in and be accused of being racist. Neither of us are racists, but I am not a PC history-revisionist. To see Purdy's true conviction on the subject see the opening remarks of Game #44.]

20. Nd3 Now . . . c5 is directly prevented. Capa

blanca has played with his customary singleness of purpose.

What is Alekhine to do? His plan of playing ... c5 has been frustrated.

He therefore turns to the possibility of exploiting some weaknesses in White's position.

The ordinary player would see none, but Alekhine hath an eagle eye. He sees a weakness in the point e3!

20. . . . Bg5! This threatens a combination. The

threat is easily parried, but thereby White must to some extent become fettered. A very instructive conception!

21. Rb1 White parries the threat by removing

his l"i from danger. If now 21 ... Nxe3!?, Black merely loses a piece for three fts.

But the vacating of the c-file is itself a concession to Black. So would have been 21. Qs2- using a ¥tl for a menial task!

21. . . . Qb7 Aiming at a regrouping by . .. Qs7, or in

some variations even . . . Qg6. White now becomes irritated by the

potential combination hanging over him. It might be described as a drawing-pin of Damocles. White decides to get clear of it forever.

22. e4 Nxc3 23. Qxc3

Thus Black has induced White to create a rather more definite weakness in his position, in the undefended cl- ft [Ed.: That is, it is no longer protected by the e-ft .] This, in a measure, makes up for Black's weak c- ft .

Had White played e4 on Move 18, it would have had the advantage of keeping Black's � in bondage. Now, with the � exchanged, the cramping effect of e4 is very slight, and the weakening of the cl- ft is the only real result obtained. However, there was certainly provocation for the advance.

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His Writings

23. . . . Qe7 24. h4!?

This seriously weakens White's W-side, but White feels that something has got to be done. His pieces do not cooperate; the 4), which is preventing .. . c5, is at the same time obstructing a B: and will have to move sometime to provide support for the d- ft . Capablanca therefore decides on a bold plan for eliminating one of Black's l;ls.

24. . . . Bh6 25. Ne5 g6

Forced. 26. Ng4 Bg7 2 7. e5 h5!

Black is bound to play this to avoid Nf6f after . . . c5, etc.

28. Ne3 c5! At last!

29. bxc5 bxc5 30. d5 exd5 31. Nxd5 Qe6

A grisly blunder would be 31 ... Qfe5 ?? 32. Nf6t Bxf6 33. exf6

Thus White completes his plan. Let us take stock. The ft /f6 is a thorn

in Black's flesh, but Black has lessened its effect by providing a flight square for his W/h7.

Black has a powerful passed ft . Can he force a win? By magnificent chess, he did, and although the rest of the game is outside the bounds of this article, we are sure most of our readers will want to see it.

The rest of our notes will be very brief. 33. Rxd1t 34. Rxd1 Bc6 35. Re1 Qf5 36. Re3 c4! 37. a4 a5!

If 37. .. Bxa4?, 38. ReS! with an attack. 38. Bg2 Bxg2 39. Kxg2 Qd5t 40. Kh2 Qf5 41. Rf3 Qc5 42. Rf4 Kh7!

If 42 .. . @4, 43. Qs3 c3 [Ed.: Surely a Purdy typolerror since 44. Rxb4 Kh7 45. Qs7! KgB 46. Rb7 and White wins; 43 . . . @3? 44. Rxc4!] 44. Rf5!!

43. Rd4 Qc6!! 44. Qxa5 c3 45. Qa7 Kg8 46. Qe7 Qb6!

Work out 46 ... c2 ? 47. RdBt, etc. 47. Qd7 Qc5 48. Re4

Only move! 48. 49. Kh3 50. Qc6 51. Kh2

Qxf2t Rf8 Qf1t Kh7!

We have ignored some repetitions. 52. Qc4 Qf2t 53. Kh3 Qg1 54. Re2 Qflt 55. Kh2 Qxf6 56. a5 Rd8 57. a6 Qfl 58. Qe4 Rd2 59. Rxd2 cxd2 60. a7 d1=Q 6 1. a8=Q Qg1t 62. Kh3 Qdf1t

White resigned, as Black mates prettily by .. . Q,hlfnext move.

The four ¥/Js make a picturesque finale.

- 7 1 -


COMMON ROOK ENDINGS

White w anywhere legal. Black draws with the move.

Either moves. White wins.

White w anywhere legal. Black draws with the move.

1

2

3

The three positions just given are vital to the understanding of the most commonly occurring type of endgame:

a- or h-pawn with its own Rook in front of it.

It is easy to see why the aggressor )':! should so often find itself in this awkward place, i.e., in front of the ft . It has come down and grabbed some fts, and is then forced to defend its own passed ft . If that ft is attacked laterally, the )':! has no alternative but to go in front of it; if the ft is attacked from the rear, the )':! may be able to defend the ft laterally, but there is no advantage in that unless the ft has crossed the middle of the board. By going in front of the ft , the )':! enables it to advance.

It is when the ft has advanced to the seventh/second rank that the )':! really feels the awkwardness of its position. Its mobility is reduced to a minimum.

Diagram 1 illustrates this. If the )':! has a safe check, White would win at once if he had the move. Also, if Black's W were at f7, e7, or d7, White with the move would win by 1. RhB! Rxa7 2. Rh7f, winning the enemy's )':! .

But as long as Black's W remains at h7 or g7, White can do nothing. As soon as his W plays up to b6 or b7, defending the ft , Black simply checks till the W leaves the ft , and then resumes his vigil on the a-file.

In such endings a beginner is often amazed to see an expert scuttling his W away for dear life, taking it out of play instead of into play. He wants to reach the safe squares.

Evidently, if the defender's W can reach the safe squares we should bring our ft to a

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His Writings

halt on the sixth rank. This enables our � to shelter from vertical checks at a7, at the same time defending the ft ; thus the aggressor t! is freed.

Diagram 2 tells when we can win in this position. This time, Black's � would like to be close up; but we must assume that he has been forced to stay at g7 until a7was no longer a threat. So he has been able to get no closer than f7. Black's last move was obviously .. . Rb 1 f, driving the � in front of its ft ; if Black had let the � stay at b7, White could have freed his t! without having to block the ft with the � at all.

It is now Black's move again, and he finds his � is just one square too far away. Thus, 7 ... Ke7 2. RbB R moves 3. Kb7 Rblf 4. KaB! R moves 5. a7and wins easily, either by Kb 7 or, if the � stops that, by RhB and KbB.

But in Diagram 3 we see that Black, by some crafty device, has transferred his � from the a-file to the sixth rank. He is still attacking the passed ft , and instead of vertical checks he can give lateral checks. Now our � can find no shelter at all.

If the pawn were not an a-pawn, he could, by getting to leeward of it.

But an a- ft has no lee side. So in Diagram 3 you can put White's � anywhere legal, and Black will either check it (if necessary) or take some other suitable square on the sixth rank.

For example, if the white �/b5 Black must immediately start checking. And here, note that it is of vital importance for the black t! to be at safe checking distance. If he were at d6 instead of further along, and the white � could go to b5, all would be over, e.g., 7 . . . Rd5f 2. Kc6, and there are no more checks.

Would e6 do? Yes, 1 . . . Re5f 2. Kc6Re6f 3. Kd7, and Black has time for 3 . . . Rf6!, getting into the diagrammed position. But g6 or h6 would not! The white � could not then be checked on the eighth rank. The

f-file is the perfect one. In Diagram 3, suppose the white � at

d5. Then it would be fatal to check because of Ke6. But the � could safely play to b6, and if Kc5, back to f6. Or he could preserve the status quo with .. . KhB.

We thus see that Tarrasch's rule, that either the attacker's or the defender's t! is always best placed behind a passed ft , is subject to at least one important exception. Sometimes the rank is better. Note that if White plays Ra8f and a7 in Diagram 3, Black can resume his vigil on the a-file behind the ft . This might be important.

Now for Endgame 243! With Diagrams 1 , 2, and 3 to help us,

we can now very easily fathom the extraordinarily subtle endgame, No. 243, which has baffled every one of our solvers. We reprint the diagram.

Black plays, draw. White plays, win.

With the move, Black can immediately obtain Diagram 3 : 1. .. Ra5! 2. Ke3 Re5t! 3. Kd4 Re6! Easy draw.

Note that Black had to reach the sixth rank by means of a check. If he leaves the afile without a check, White wins with ridiculous ease by Rb7 and a7 (the seventh rank absolute!). Incidentally, this shows the merit of keeping our � at a7 as long as possible rather than at aS. Do not unnecessarily give up the seventh rank absolute.

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Now the hard part, White to move! Not 1. Ke3?, as Black again obtains Diagram 3 by 1 ... Re1t! and 2 ... Re6. But 1. Ke2!!

Now Black's only way to reach the sixth rank with a check is by 1 . . . Ra5 2. Kd3 Rd5t 3. Kc4 Rd6. But then 4. Kb5, and we have seen that the §. is not at a safe checking distance. He must go back behind the ft and abandon any attempt to take the sixth rank.

The only problem that remains is: can White produce Diagram 2? He can.

There are two ways he can get his W to a7. The obvious one is to play RaBt and then simply bring the W up.

If White's King is distant, this method should not be used unless it becomes necessary, as it involves giving up the seventh rank.

It does become necessary if Black plays his W to f8, for he then threatens . . . Ke8!, when RaBt and a7 would come too late; Black's W would get right up to the passed ft ,

Example: 7. KeZ!! RaJ 2. KdZ KgB 3. KcZ Kf8 4. KbZ Ra5 5. RaBt! (now forced) Kg7 (not . . . Ke7??, as explained under Diagram 1) 6. Kb3 Rf5!, and now White has to win by 7. RbB! Ra5 8. Rb6! His W can just get round before the black W can head him off.

The less obvious method, which should be used where possible, as it avoids tricks, is to play the W down to b8. There he is safe from a vertical check, and his §. would interpose at b7.

After 1. Ke2!! it is so easy to force the white W to b8 (as long as Black does not play his W to f8) that we need not give all the play. Just imagine that White has transferred his W from f2 to b6, and it is Black's move. Black's W is at g8, let us say.

Playing from that situation, we have: 1 .. . Rb1t 2. Kc7 Rc1t. (If 2 .. . Ra1, we use the Ra8 method, as White's W is no longer distant, e.g., 3. RaBt Kf7 4. Kb7. If now 4 .. .

Ke7, trying to steal a march on us with his W, we win by 5. a7! The black W is out of his crease, and if the white W is checked, he simply retreats until the checks end.)

3. KbB Ra 1. Now the W and §. change places. 4. RaB Kj7. (If 4 .. . Rh 1 t, 5. Ka 7t, and if 4 ... R elsewhere, 5. Kb7t, and the same thing comes about.) Common sense tells us that we should not play the W in front of the ft until driven to. 5. Kb7! Rb1t! 6. Ka7. And we have Diagram 2.

There is some interesting play if Black immediately forces us to play RaBt. Starting from the diagram as it stands, we have: 1. Ke2!! Kg8 2. Kd3 Kj8 3. RaBt! Kg7 4. Kc4 Rf1!? 5. Re8 Ra 1 6. Kb5 Kj7 7. Re4. And wins easily by the well-known device of interposing the §. , and then playing it behind the ft .

Either plays, White wins.

7. Kd3Rb4 (or 1 ... Kh7) 2. e6Rb63. Re1 Rb8 4. e7 Re8 5. Kd4 Kg7 6. Kd5 Kf7 7. Kd6 Ra8 8. Rfl t Kg7 9. Ra 1! and wins.

If Black plays first, he cannot materially alter the position, as his §. must stay on its rank, trying to keep out White's w.

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His Writings

A METHOD OF THINKING IN CHESS It has taken me many years to evolve a good method of thinking in chess. Almost as soon as I had learnt the moves, I conceived the idea that a player's

consistency in chess would be greatly enhanced by his following a set system in thinking out his moves. My original system was extremely rudimentary. It consisted of the following pair of obvious questions:

1. What is his threat? 2. What can he do if I do this? As years went by, the system developed into the quite ponderous series of questions

given in the A.C.R. of December 1931, at the cost of the main part of our series "How to Improve at Chess," which ran through 1930 and 1931.

The system made a considerable impression on thinking players in various parts of the world. In England in 1934 someone started a correspondence chess school, which announced that it was based on the following three things. I quote in full because it will help our discussion.

(a) The "Steinitz System," as explained by Dr. Lasker in his Manual, which advocates positional play and the accumulation of small advantages as opposed to the constant search for winning combinations. As Dr. Lasker puts it, "When the position warrants it, the combination will present itself." This helps to avoid premature attacks, and the waste of time and energy in hunting for possibilities that do not exist.

(b) How Not to Play Chess, written by Znosko-Borovsky, where constant analysis of the position as a whole is the main theme.

(c) A series of articles on "How to Improve at Chess," by CJ.S. Purdy in The Australasian Chess Review, in which he suggests among other things a number of questions which the player should constantly ask himself. These soon become automatic, and so waste very little time, as they can usually be done whilst waiting for your opponent to play. This habit once acquired will enable the player to avoid many oversights and mistakes, and save much time, besides being an aid to the development of "chess sense."

The above is well put, for the most part. However, as regards (c), it is an exaggeration to say that the questions can "usually be done while waiting for your opponent to play." It is very true that you can often carry out a very full reconnaissance (the most important part of the system) during that time, which will be of great service if, when he does move, you ask yourself in what ways his move has altered

the position. But the system itself is based on the idea that your opponent has just made a move.

As regards (a), this sounds very well, but it is an example of how small parts of a book can be quoted in such a way as to give, quite unintentionally, a wrong impression of the work as a whole. Quite rightly, "The Steinitz System" is put in inverted commas. It should be called the Steinitz-Lasker Prin-

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ciples. Lasker has been much too modest in giving so much credit to Steinitz. One will search in vain in Steinitz's own writings for anything like the exposition in Lasker's Manual.

I am, however, unable to find that either Steinitz or Lasker made a fetish of discouraging the search for combinations, which a player should never omit. It is true that a combination will arise naturally only out of a positional advantage. But it may arise through an error by your opponent at any time, and you must ever be on the alert for such errors.

Steinitz himself was a master of combination, and so is Lasker. Steinitz won more brilliancy prizes than most of his "brilliant" rivals.

True, Steinitz concentrated on the positional side of the game in his writings, because the players of his own day searched for combinations automatically. They did not need to be told to take this side of the game seriously. Moreover, it was not then thought possible to give any instruction about combinations.

Lasker in his Manual devotes a whole section to combination, and all subsequent books on combination are merely developments of it. The command to look for these "combination motifs" is really implicit in Lasker's book. But it is not explicit. Therefore, it did not help players as much as it might have.

I say all this because I do not want students to think my ideas are in defiance of Steinitz and Lasker. They only contradict subsequent writers who have studied Lasker's book without devoting any original thought to it. If Lasker had seen any of my own writings on the subject, I do not think he would disagree with any of them.

A valuable article bearing on some of these points was published by G.F. Mclntosh, the Sydney correspondence player, in

the 1937 booklet of the Correspondence Chess League of Australia.

Mclntosh advocates, for correspondence players, a positional reconnaissance taking in the following five points:

1. material; 2. development; 3. space; 4. weaknesses and strengths; 5. possibilities for a breakthrough. Further on, he writes:

But besides the five factors we mentioned, there are other factors which may modify your judgment of a position, although they always arise out of the position. They are the tactical possibilities. Some players prefer to look for them first. But it is better in the long run always to look at the position first; because then, when you do find tactical maneuvers, or combinations, as they are called, you will imperceptibly learn what type of position they arose out of; and after a while you will almost automatically know whether there is a combination to be found in a certain type of position and, if so, of what type it is likely to be.

So always seek to grasp the essentials of the position first. Then look for combinative possibilities arising out of the position, such as:

{a) Forks . . . ; {b) Attacks along lines . . . ; {c) Loose pieces . . . ; {d) Confined pieces . . . {especially

King) . . . ; {e) Pieces which have a double func

tion . . . .

In over-the-board play, the positional reconnaissance can be carried out during your opponent's turn to move. And at that time it is not possible to make an exact tactical reconnaissance, because your op-

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His Writings

ponent's move will probably upset any tactical possibilities there are. A positional reconnaissance deals, in its nature, with the static elements of a position, and a single move does not radically upset it, as a rule.

Consequently, Mr. Mclntosh's remarks apply to over-the-board play even more cogently than to correspondence play. Your positional reconnaissance must come first.

Then, when your opponent has moved, you first finish your positional reconnaissance by asking yourself how his move has changed the position. You then examine his move for threats and objects.

The next step, assuming that the position is not so simple that your move can be chosen without it, is the tactical or combinative reconnaissance, to see if there is a good combination available.

If there is none-and there usually is none-you must be resigned to trying for some small, unambitious objective (only a combination can give a substantial gain), and must make a plan.

That is my system, put broadly, and the only remaining problem is to boil it down to a series of simple questions that can be memorized without effort. The series published in December 1931 was too unwieldy for convenient use.

Let us be quite clear. First comes the rough "positional" reconnaissance, then the tactical or combinative reconnaissance-then the search for possible combinations, and finally, if no good one is found, the formation of a plan, for which we use data found in our original "positional" reconnaissance.

Before leaving the citation from Mr. Mclntosh's article, I would suggest that, after having seen my articles on "jump moves," he would probably be willing to scrap "(e)" in his tactical reconnaissance in favor of a search for "jump mates," etc. For it is not possible to see that a piece is preventing a certain move unless you have first

visualized that move. At the same time, "jump moves" help in the search for the other kinds of combinations as well.

Mr. Mclntosh states that the article in question was developed from my own series published in 1930 and 1931. His development consists partly in a simplification for memorization. It is a well-known psychological fact that the mind can keep five units before its attention at the same time, but rarely more than five. Hence the desirability of grouping points into groups of not more than five.

But he has made a definite addition to the positional reconnaissance by making the possibility of a "breakthrough" a special feature. One should certainly know the points on the board where a breakthrough may take place, as they are of immense strategical importance.

In no game does "form" vary more than in chess. Some "Rook" or "Knight" players will occasionally break loose and play a game that, if published without names, might be credited to a first-class player. You can never safely bet on a game of chess. If a player is in Class 3, say, it means that his form varies between Class 2 and Class 4, while a Class-4 player is one whose form varies from Class 3 to Class 5. When these two meet, the Class-3 man may play in his Class-4 form, and the Class-4 man in his Class-3 form. Then the Class-4 man will win.

"Form" in chess depends partly on health and the other external factors, as in other games. But it varies chiefly through sheer accident. We all make oversights at times, which are not only avoidable by us but are unworthy of players many classes below us. Sometimes fortune smiles on us, and we play a whole game without any such oversight; other times, we make several.

Why is this? It is simply because in chess we have to keep so many things before

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The Search for Chess Peifection

our attention. In tennis, there is just one thing for a good player to attend to-the ball. All his actions in hitting the ball are mechanical; and he has already decided where to hit it. Even in bridge, a little analysis will show that there are far fewer things to attend to than in chess.

The greater number of things we have to deal with-assuming all the things are different-the greater the chance of a mistake. In business, mistakes are reduced to a minimum through card indexing, doubleentry bookkeeping, and systems of all sorts. Without such order and method, a business of any magnitude would rapidly fall to bits.

But in chess, most of us use no method or system at all. It stands to reason that no system can make a bad player into a good one-only the acquirement of further skill can do that. But might not a good system enable that Class-3 player always to play in either his Class-2 or Class-3 form, and avoid those graver blunders that put him sometimes in Class 4? Of course it might, and thus put him automatically in Class 2- 112. Might it not even enable him always to play in his Class-2 form, and thus raise him a whole class? Certainly it might; more than that, it actually has done that, and more.

To quote one example with a flavor of romance about it: a young girl of 15 who played in the Women's Championship of New South Wales some years ago was attended by a young man who informed me that they had taken up the game only a few months before, and had been studying it together-entirely from the "How to Improve" series in the A. C.R. and ZnoskoBorovsky' s little work, How Not to Play Chess. The young man had slightly simplified the system given in the A. C.R. of December 1931-thereby showing a commendable initiative so often lacking in students-and the girl was religiously following the system in her games in the tourney, which was her

first attempt at playing against other opponents than her friend.

There were 14 players, most of whom had been playing for many years, and I was anxious to see if the girl could manage to break 50 percent. She gained fourth prize, with 10 points out of 13! It was an example of a player starting off on efficient lines, without first having to "unlearn." Sad to say, chess has seen no more of either the girl or the efficient young man, though when I saw them both accidentally some years later, still together, they expressed a hope that they might someday return to it.

After one game, which the heroine of this tale played in a nice, combinative style, and which a newspaper found good enough to publish, it was amusing to hear her inquiring of her friend, with girlish enthusiasm, "And did you notice all the function motifs?" Terminology that gray-beard players would have thought sheer gibberishthough familiar enough to students of Lasker's Manual, which formed the foundation for my system.

Students will remember that the idea of "function" may be profitably replaced by my new idea of ')ump moves."

By a system, I do not mean here a system of chess strategy, such as that put forward by Nimzovich in My System, but just a set order of dealing with the problems that arise in chess positions generally. Such a system was given me by my schoolmaster in an elementary chemistry class for analyzing an unknown salt. First one applied the physical tests of sight, smell, and taste-then tested for flame calor in a Bunsen burnerthen applied certain chemical tests- all in a certain order.

Being convinced of the value of method is a different thing from being naturally methodical. And I must confess that, being unmethodical by nature, I have never been able to train myself to use my own system

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His Writings

throughout a game! However, as I said in the A.C.R. of February 1931, "I have sometimes drawn up a list of the mistakes I have made during a tournament, and have proved every time definitely-to my own satisfaction-that the system would have saved me from more than half of them!"

The new, simplified system put forward in this article, however, will be found quite usable. I admit that the one given in 1931 would be found irksome to 95 percent of players.

The system consists of a series of questions which a player is to ask himself at every move. Of course, if he finds the best move with certainty before he has asked all the questions-as he often will-he does not need to complete them.

It goes without saying that you do not use the system in the opening while you are following a predetermined line.

I might remark that it is vain to imagine that one can keep the system for important match games and not bother to use it at other times. One must train oneself to use it.

The questions now follow. The student might copy them out on a sheet of paper, and keep the sheet standing up facing him when playing over master games, on which he should practice the system.

The questions or self-commands are given in italic type, and explanatory matter in regular type. Of course, full explanations can only be found by reading previous articles in the series.

THE SYSTEM

(I: My turn to move.} 1. What are all the moves I have to con

sider? This may seem a strange question to

ask first, because it is usually unanswerable at this stage. lt is very useful, however, if the choice is clearly limited to two or three

possible moves, as you may be able to "spot" a commonsense way of choosing the right move without following out the rest of the system or going into much analysis. Or there may be only one possible move, apparently; in that event, look hard for something else you might do first, e.g., after 1. e4 Nf6 2. Nc3 d5 3. exd5 Nxd5 4. Bc4 Nxc3. Now don't impulsively play the apparently forced recapture 5. bxc3, but first 5. Qj3!, which gains White a bit of advantage. Most players would see this move if they looked for it, but 95 percent of players would not look.

In most cases, the question is supposed to remain incompletely answered for the time being, to be returned to after Question 5.

2. How has his last move changed the position? What are his threats? What are his objectives?

If you have carried out a full reconnaissance while he has been thinking out his move, the first part of this question enables you to bring it up to date. The other two parts are also important. It is obviously vital to be aware of any threats. But if there are no actual threats, don't leave it at that. Still try to fathom your opponent's objects in playing the move. Capablanca, in an interview, attached the utmost value to this.

Don't forget, of course, that if you see a threat, your first reaction should not be to search for a defense to it but rather for a way of ignoring it.

3. Complete your reconnaissance if not al-ready done:

a. material; b. � positions; c. weaknesses and strengths; d. development; e. Where could either side break

through?

In counting material, notice such things as "two Bishops," As on opposite colors, ft

- 79 -


majorities. Notice everything you can about the

positions of the \tls-is either exposed, or does it suffer the reverse disability oflack of flight squares?

Weakness are: weak fts, weak squares, confined pieces, a generally cramped game.

Strengths are: larger space or terrain, greater mobility, well-posted pieces, command of central squares.

To compare development, count the number of moves needed by each army to complete its development. Credit one tempo to the player whose turn it is to move. We have written several times on the value of a tempo in the opening-roughly, it may be rated at a quarter to a third of the center ft , and up to half a flank ft .

Breakthrough points after, say, 7. e4 e6 2. d4 d5 3. e5 are f5 for White, and c5 and f6 for Black. Both players' plans in the opening often hinge on such points.

4. Have I a good combination? To help in this, look for possible combination motifs:

a. geometrical; b. nets; c. jump moves; d. zugzwang; e. stalemate. Of course, (d) and (e) apply only to

endgames. ft promotion is omitted for simplicity, as being always obvious where it is present at all.

5. If not satisfied that the answer to (4) is yes, what is my best plan?

For this, you use the reconnaissance. What are all the weaknesses and strengths of each side? How can I best exploit his weaknesses, establish my strengths, eliminate my weaknesses, and reduce his strengths, or do as many of these things as possible?

Now return to (1).

(11: I am considering a certain move.) 1. Visualize the move as though made,

firmly. 2. Does it leave me vulnerable to any

combination?

(m: It is his move.) 1. Make a reconnaissance, as described

in (I), to be completed when he has made his move.

2. Visualize the position after this or that likely move, and proceed as in (I).

THE SYSTEM IN BRIEF

(I: It is my move.) 1. My moves. 2. Changes? Threats? Objects? 3. Reconnaissance (a, b, c, d, e). 4. Combination (a, b, c, d, e)? 5. Plan? 6. My moves.

(11: If I do this . . . ) 1. Visualize. 2. Combination?

(m: It is his move.) 1. Reconnaissance. 2. Visualize.

The skeleton system is the one to use in actual play. It is assumed that you have so mastered the system that the various points omitted spring rapidly to the mind.

Conclusion

I believe that the system as given above will so commend itself to most players that no further remarks in support of it are necessary.

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His Writings

THAT ISOLATED d·PAWN We all hear a lot about the "isolated d- ft ", but even today there are not many players

who know much about it. In the first place, why only the "cl-pawn"? Why doesn't the "isolated e-pawn" get its

share of abuse? Simply because an that occurs so rarely. It involves the advance and exchange of the f-ft of both armies-an unusual occurrence in the opening. The King's Gambit and allied openings are played rarely, and when they are, Black usually keeps his f-ft at home for fear of exposing his 'it'.

The "isolated cl-pawn", on the other hand, arises frequently-and not only from Queen's Gambits. It is well worth a special study. We refer the reader to Nimzovich's chapter on the subject in My System.

In a single article it is hopeless to attempt to cover the whole subject, and just now I am going to deal only with the most difficult case (not discussed in Nimzovich's chapter referred to) . That is, the case where the player fighting against the "isolated cl-pawn" has not yet developed his '/l¥'s .ll.

The particular case that inspired this article was the game between F.L. Vaughan (White) and WJ. Greenfield in the New South Wales Championship. The opening was a Caro-Kann, but the same position could have arisen in a Queen's Gambit. The moves:

1. e4 c6 2. d4 d5 3. exd5 cxd5 4. c4 e6 5. Nc3 Nf6 6. N£3 Nc6 7. Be2 Be7 8. 0-0 0-0 9. Bg5 dxc4

10. Bxc4

(Black to move)

The same position can easily arise from the old-fashioned Queen's Gambit Declined, which is still seen in master play: 7. d4 d5 2. c4 e6 3. Nc3 c5 4. e3 Nf6 5. Nj3 Nc6 6. Bd3 dxc4 Z Bxc4 cxd4 8. exd4 Be7, etc.

Theoretically the opening is favorable to Black, for he has the Queen's Gambit Accepted (itself a playable opening) with a valuable move in hand, White having moved his 'it'-.ll twice. But if Black is to demonstrate even a slight advantage, he must display great finesse. In the present example, Black actually obtained a losing position after the following moves:

10. h6 11 . Bf4 Bd6? 12. Ne5 Nxe5 13. Bxe5 Bxe5? 14. dxe5 Nd7

Black has now eliminated the "isolated cl-pawn" altogether-a course which would have been excusable if he had thereby

- 8 1 -


caught up in development, but he is actually further behind than ever. It was his 1 1 th move, plausible enough, that started him on the downward path. This suggests a cardinal rule:

When playing agaimt an "isolated d-pawn ': avoid ... Bd6.

The reason for this rule is not only that .. . Bd6 releases the pressure on the "isolated d-pawn" itself, but that it makes it harder to establish a piece (a blockader) on dS.

Inexperienced players will need this explained. The "isolated d-pawn" is not in itself weak, as a rule, until the endgame. Until that stage, it is rather the square just in front of the "isolated d-pawn" that is weak. The opponent seeks to occupy it with a piece, which will be powerfully posted because it cannot be hit by a ft . Before he succeeds in doing this, he must be constantly on the lookout for d5, by which the isolated ft might be dissolved. He must always be sure that he has some good reply to d5.

On all these counts, it is important to keep the line from d8 to dS unobstructed.

Passing the first moves without comment ( 10 .. . h6 11. Bf4), let us now try to find a better 1 1th move for Black. The "routine" move would be 11 . . . Nb4, for the purpose of preventing d5 and shortly occupying dS with a 4). All very fine if Black's '?tf-.il was already developed at b7! It is such easy positions that one usually sees in books. Then Black, by ... Nb4, obtains an impregnable position and usually works up gradually to a winning one.

Here, however, Black has the double problem of restraining the "isolated d-pawn" and developing his '?tf-.i}.. If at once 11 .. . Nb4 12. Ne5, he finds that 72 .. . b6 would be answered by 13. a3 Nbd5 14. Nxd5 Nxd5 15. Nc6! Q,moves 16. Bxd5 exd5 17. Nxe7f Q3e7; and White has forced Black to plug dS with a ft , and has obtained not only equality but

a little advantage. It seems, then, that 77 .. . Nb4 is not

good; Black should evidently retain his pressure on the "isolated d-pawn" for the moment, thus preventing Ne5.

Consider, then, 11 ... b6. This is a fairly good move, as 12. d5

can be refuted by 12 .. . Na5! White, however, has a subtle answer in 12. a3! Bb7 13 . Ba2! Black cannot now play ... Nb4, so that the threat of dissolving the "isolated d-pawn" by d5is "on." If 13 ... RcB, 14. Rcl (the threat of d5is better than its execution here). Black is faced with the problem of what to do with his '?tf. Of course ... Nd5 at once allows White to exchange 4)s and plug the key square with a ft -still worse now because it would obstruct Black's fianchetto .i}..

We conclude that the fianchetto by .. . b6 has certain disabilities, and this explains why in this type of opening Black so often prefers to fianchetto by . .. a6 and . . . b5 (where the latter move gains time by hitting a ,il/c4). This way of fianchettoing gives Black more space; as we shall see, the possibility of ... b4 is useful, for one thing.

Now let us try (after 10 . . . h6 and 11. Bf4 in the diagram) 11 ... a6. We've got "something" now.

If White tries 12. a3 as he did against ... b6, Black comes at him with 72. .. b5 13. Ba2 b4!! 14. axb4 Nxb4. Black then has the position he wants (see diagram).

By playing ... a6, ... bs, and ... b4, Black has obtained a satisfactory position.

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His Writings

The dS-square is completely controlled,

and his ¥fJ is ready to develop.

So it appears that if 77.. . a6, White should prevent .. . b5by 12. a4.

But once White has played a4 Black can plonk his 'iJy-4:) onto b4 without fear of a3, e.g., 11 ... a6! 12. a4 Nb4! 13. Ne5 b6! (see next diagram). In this, if 73. a5? (to stop . . . b6), Nc6! (back again) and wins the i ( 14. Qg4 Bd7).

li�.t.& ��

��

- "'�tf '11'�%� �tji}jjii;ii"/y �%% "t' ""'-!� �0.j '0 0 � � � 0 "� %%{':'��{--� ' '

��%-��?'�%% .ft -jt.�� -- �'� · - '� % �--%",;"U%% �%'"�%'"' ?i -� ��% -� .ft � @ - '� %� - - ':�%� ,, ,

��§� Similar to the previous diagram, i n that the black 4::l/b4 cannot be driven away by a3. Both ds and Nc6 are prevented.

We conclude that 77 .. . a6! is the right move and enables Black, in any variation, to reap a slight advantage from the "isolated d-pawn".

Now, going back again to the diagram, suppose that in reply to 10.. . h6! White plays 77. Bh4, more logical than Bf4.

This does not affect the position vitally. Black's best is still 77 ... a6! But after 12. a4 Nb4 White has a good move in 13. @3!, threatening to give Black doubled- is by Bxf6.

So in this line it would be better for Black not to play 12 .. . Nb4, but simply 12 ... b6!

White's 'iJy-� is better posted (e.g., if ... 4:)b4, '/Jyb3 threatens �x/6!), so Black

permits ds. The "isolated d-pawn"

disappears, but the resultant position is favorable to Black.

True, this permits White to dissolve the "isolated d-pawn" by 13. d5 Na5 14. Ba2 exd5 15. Nxd5 Nxd5 76. Bxd5 Bb7 JZ Bxb7 Nxb7; but the situation of White's Alh4 is now slightly disadvantageous, in that White is forced to lose time in some way, either by a tempo-losing exchange (Bxe7) or by retreating. White's is are more disjointed than Black's, and therefore weaker, so that Black has the advantage, though it may be slight. Against the plausible line 18. Q:dB BxdB 79. Bg3 Bf6 20. Bc7, Black replies simply 20 .. . b5! with clear advantage.

This line would have been good also against 17. Bf4 (as played), but the shade of difference would prevent Black from achieving more than equality.

After studying all these subtleties with care, and making sure that he understands the underlying principles in every case, the reader will at last master the "isolated clpawn" problem. He will know how to take advantage of the "isolated d-pawn", and how to exploit the opponent's errors when he has an "isolated d-pawn" himself. And in playing over master games, he will be able to learn more and to criticize intelligently.

Compare now the ordinary Queen's Gambit Accepted, and see how White can

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utilize the extra tempo if Black isolates his d- ft . 1. d4 d5 2. c4 dxc4 3. Nf3 Nf6 4. e3 e6 5. Bxc4 c5 6. 0-0 cxd4!? Z exd4 Nc6 8. Nc3 Be7 9. Qs2!

Stronger than 9. Bg5. It threatens Rd1, after which d5 becomes more menacing, and if 9 ... Nxd4 10. Nxd4 Qfd4 White obtains a tremendous attack either with 11. Rd1 or Nb5.

From this we conclude that if the player with the "isolated d-pawn" has a big advantage in development, the "isolated d-pawn" is not a real weakness. It is only where there is something like equilibrium that the "isolated d-pawn" can be proved weak. One tempo can mean almost the difference between victory and defeat.

THE PURDY MYSTIQUE

In 1983 a small publishing firm in Australia called Castle Books published a terrific book: "The Correspondence Chess Career of a World Champion."

I don't think very many readers or players can have any sense of what it is like to be the world champion of anything let alone chess!

In early 1998 Thinkers' Press will republish this book in a new forma� algebraic notation, and reedited. We are extremely excited about all the Purdy projects, and thank effusively Ralph Tykodi for rekindling the interest I once had in reading the best annotations I have ever come across in my 30 years of reading chess literature. (Our cover will be different.)

Bob Long, editor

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His Writings

COMPENSATION FOR A PAWN The average player must often be puzzled when an annotator tells him that "White

has full compensation for the ft sacrificed"-or, contrariwise, "White's compensation for the ft is insufficient."

What considerations lead a reliable annotator to vote one way or the other? That depends on the type of position. The verdict may sometimes be based on purely positional considerations. Usually, however, such considerations must be supplemented by analysis.

The problem is very important, for it is one that a player himself is set in nearly every game he plays.

More puzzling still is such a statement as ''And White has some compensation for his pawn."

"Some," i.e., partial compensation. What is partial compensation? Suppose a player is a ft down, but two tempi ahead in development. He may then be said to have partial compensation; yet if his opponent has no weakness in his position, the chances are that he will not be able to utilize his two tempi, and that the player with the ft plus will before long bring about equilibrium between the fighting forces, so that his ft plus should win.

In such circumstances, the "partial compensation" is theoretically nothing. But in practice it means something: it means that it needs only a slight error by the player with the ft plus to turn the "partial" or unreal compensation into complete or real compensation-for instance, speaking generally, the loss of one further tempo should do the trick. As over-the-board chess contains about ten percent of errors even among pretty strong amateurs, and say 20 to 40 percent among ordinary club players, the value of "partial compensation" is obvious.

The following diagram is a position that would have come about in the game McNabb-Burry in a New Zealand Championship had McNabb answered Burry's ft sacrifice correctly. In annotating the game, I said, "And we arrive at an endgame in which Black's compensation is not sufficient."

1

White to move.

Incidentally, the position shows how an endgame can begin before the opening is finished; neither side has completed its development. Black is already one tempo

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ahead, and as White must now lose a tempo in saving his c- ft , Black is actually two tempi ahead. But when we consider the �s, we notice a point in White's favor: his � has already a flight from the back rank, and can develop.

There is also a point against White. His ft /f4 obstructs his '{t{-!J., which therefore may have difficulty in developing without the expenditure of a further tempo by f5. Also, the advanced fts may themselves be regarded as slightly weak, though this is offset by their �'s ability to defend them at g3 (developing himself at the same time) . On the whole, Black's advantage might be assessed at "between one and two tempi." It is not enough. With careful play, White should soon restore positional equilibrium and ultimately win.

And here let me state (for the first time) a general chess theorem of great importance:

Where one side is only slightly superior in development or mobility, and the inferior side has no organic weakness, the weaker side should be able to restore equilibrium.

In other words, the natural tendency is towards restoration of equilibrium rather than the increase of a slight advantage where that advantage is not, in its nature, lasting.

If the "weaker" side has a ft +, as here, the "weaker" side should in such circumstances ultimately win. Let us now make a few more moves.

l. c3 1. Bb3? would be bad, for it terribly

handicaps a piece to be used for the defense of a ft , and it is of primary importance to increase, rather than diminish, the mobility of the pieces. That is elementary. Of course, 1. Bd3? would be worse still ( 7 .. . Bxd3 2. cxd3 RadB forcing a white )::i into a menial station at once).

1. Rad8 2. Rel

The simplest way of ensuring a square for the imprisoned !J. is 2. f5, but the text conforms more to general rules.

2. • • . Rfe8 3. Kh2

Against . . . Bxg2f. 3. . • • Kf8 4. Be3!

The validity of this depends on a tactical point. Otherwise, f5 would still be necessary.

4. . . . Bxe3 Actually better is 4 ... Bc6, but it is clear

then that White had brought about approximate equilibrium in position, so that his ft + should win.

5. Rxe3 Rd2 6. Rael!

The point. Black cannot take the ft and must play 6 ... Bc6 Z Rxe8f BxeB, when 8. Re2 ruins his game completely.

Now change Diagram 1 into Diagram 2 by giving Black an extra tempo-his '{t{- )::i already at d8:

White to play.

Black's total advantage should now be between two and three tempi. Can White hold the position now? Let us try.

1. c3 Rfe8 2. f5

Now the only way, as 2. Rel would be met by ... Bxg2f. Now White threatens to gain a tempo by Bg5, and again it seems impossible to prevent White from getting

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His Writings

his pieces developed safely. If Black's � had a flight square, i.e., if Black had played ... h6, he could win by 2 ... Bxf5; but that now fails, thus: 2 ... Bxf5? 3. Rxf5 Re7f 4. Kh2 Rdd7 5. Rd5!

The same trouble occurs if 2 ... Bd3 3. Bxd3 Rxd3 4. Bf4 Re2. Now 5. Rfe7!

In Diagram 2, make the slight alteration of giving White a .ft. /h3 instead of g4.

White to play.

As White's .ft. position has improved, one would expect Diagram 3 to be at least

as good for him as Diagram 2. It is not. 1. c3 Rfe8 2. f5

What else? If 2. Kh2, ... Bd3 3. Bxd3 Rxd3 4. f5 Re2.

2. . . . Re5! And the f- .ft. proves a weakness, be

cause deprived of its support. If 3. f6, ... gxf6 4. Rxf6 Rd7f 5. Kh2 Bd5!

Thus Black had insufficient compensation in Diagram 3, but not in Diagram 2, though in both positions his advantage in development was the same. The difference in Black's favor could be found only by analysis. This only goes to show that general rules, however useful, can never be more than a rough guide. Otherwise, of course, amateurs could play as well as the World Champion.

The general rule that two tempi ahead are doubtful compensation for a .ft. , but three tempi practically always full compensation, is worth remembering, nevertheless.

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TRANSITION FROM

THE OPENING TO MIDDLEGAME The transition from opening to middlegame, while not inherently a more difficult

stage of the game than others, is one in which most players feel their deficiencies very keenly. For it is here that they take the plunge from known paths into the jungle.

After having started with a cut-and-dried strategical aim-development-they have to find a new aim, and that aim depends entirely on the position.

But stop a minute! Have you really completed your development? What about that �'s )::! still on fl/f8? He's not doing anything there, and you can't open the f-file. You say, "Oh, but there's no good file to put him on." What about the cl-file? "But my own pawn is in the way on d4/d5; what could the Rook do on dl/d8?"

The answer is that he can't do anything. But the idea is to place him in the position of maximum readiness; to be more specific, place him on the file that is most likely to become open. For example, in the Queen's Gambit Declined a good player with White knows that Black is bound to want to play . . . c5 sooner or later, so that he can look forward to the cl-file becoming open in the fullness of time. Therefore White usually plays his �'s )::! to dl ; the other )::! has normally gone to cl, because the c-file already becomes openable after the move c4 against . . . d5.

As a general rule, the player who gets his )::!s ready for the future, restraining himself from premature attack, is very wise. Time and again you will see masters break this rule, but it is best not to break it yourself without a clearly good reason. Don't break it just because there are no open files.

Certainly it does sometimes happen that the opening makes no good places for the )::!s. In the Giuoco Piano, for instance, with the 4)s on c3/c6/f3/f6 both sides are blocked from playing either d41d5 or f4!f5. One player has to undertake the business of opening a file up for himself and his opponent, and that is why, in such an opening, the first move ceases to be an advantage. Prefer an opening that makes the provision for a ft exchange in the center (as nearly all openings do).

Well, let us suppose that you really have developed your )::!s, or else you have a really good reason for interrupting that development; in other words, the middlegame may be said to have started.

The thing to do now is to discover a good strategical aim. Is it? No, any reader who has paid any attention to my effusions in the past will know that the first thing at every move is a look round the board for any possibilities of a combination (a forcing line of play), and if any appear, to examine them to see if any of them is sound.

For a combinative possibility may arise at any time. Your opponent is a fallible human being like yourself, and although his position may look strategically quite good, his last move may have some hidden flaw, punishable by a bold coup like .Q.x ft t.

And the gain possible by a combination is almost unlimited. By a combination, you may win a � or force mate; by a plan, you cannot hope to gain more than a tiny plus.

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His Writings

COMBINATION MOTIFS

Any of the following nine things should inspire you to look for a combination:

1. Exposed � 2. Castled � without a protecting

piece. 3. Any undefended unit. 4. Forkable units. 5. Masked battery (e.g., possibility of

discovering "check" to ¥11 with a .§) . 6 . An enemy piece without a retreat,

or with only one retreat which can be cut off.

7. Big pieces on same rank, file, or diagonal.

8. Pinned unit. 9. A tied unit, e.g., piece protecting

another piece.

Any of these things will, if some mechanism for taking advantage of it happens to exist, be much more important than a positional weakness such as an isolated ft .

Among good players, the existence of such possibilities is rather the exception than the rule, but woe betide him who overlooks the exception.

WEAKN ESSES AND

STRENGTHS

Assuming that combinative possibilities are wiped out, you have to make a plan. The first step in planning is to examine the weaknesses and strengths of each side.

Weaknesses are: 1. weak squares; 2. weak fts; 3. ft moved in front of castled �'

especially the g- ft ; 4 . confined pieces; 5. generally cramped game;

6. backward development.

Strengths are: 1. well-posted piece; 2. greater terrain; 3. greater mobility; 4. control of center.

AIM

Your plan may have any or some or all of the following four objectives:

1. Taking advantage of enemy weak-ness(es) .

2. Establishing your own strength(s) . 3. Removing your own weakness(es). 4. Removing enemy strength(s). This looks rather involved. But in prac

tice, only one or two of the four items listed are likely to crop up in any given position.

EXAMPLE

An example must needs be disappointing-one would need a great many to illustrate all the points. However, the following should be of some little help.

We take the 29th Game of the Alekhine-Capablanca Match of 1927.

Capablanca-Aiekhine

1. d4 d5 2. c4 e6 3. Nc3 Nf6 4. Bg5 Nbd7 5. e3 c6 6. Nf3 Qa5 7. Nd2

The reason for this interruption of development is Black's threat of .. .Ne4.

7. . . . Bb4 8. Qc2 dxc4

A quite voluntary loss of time, in return for which Black has the satisfaction of

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In the 1 1th Game, Capablanca had fianchettoed by means of Be2 and Bj3 with the idea of avoiding the slight weakness that g3 creates. The text move is a little better, but the subtlety need not concern us here. The point to notice is that White takes the trouble to fianchetto at all, when he could develop in one move on an apparently more effective diagonal (Bd3). The rule for development in close games is:

Post your pieces where they will become useful if the enemy makes a breakthrough in the center.

The beauty of this scheme is that it cannot fail; for if the enemy is deterred from breaking through by your move, that is itself a gain, as you retain command of the center.

Here, Black is bound to break through sooner or later by ... c5; he will not try to force .. . e5, as White could prevent it. Therefore White sees the light fianchetto diagonal as though already open. What we said before of a :El: developed on a partially closed file applies equally to the � here.

12. Bd7 13. Bg2 0-0

14. b4 An interruption in development such

as we warned the student against-unless he has a really good reason. Here White has a good reason. Before Black plays ... c5, White wants to make him open the light diagonal further by playing ... b6.

14. . . . b6 15. 0-0 a5

Virtually a developing move, as it makes the ¥/1's :El: potentially effective on its original file.

White's problems now are tactical rather than strategical. There is a simple threat to attend to. The obvious 16. b5would fall into a trap, as 16 ... Rac8would get White into serious trouble with three pieces exposed on the openable c-file. In accordance with the correct method of dealing with threats, White first seeks a way of ignoring the threat, with an attacking move.

16. Ne5! axb4 17. axb4 Rxa1 18. Rxa1 Rc8

If 18 ... Bxb4, 19. Nb5! (a combination) forces an advantage. Black now threatens to obtain a solid defensive position with ... Be8. There is an obvious plan to foil this, requiring only one move.

19. Nxd7 Qxd7 Black takes this way in order to block

the long diagonal with ... Nd5. The key to the position now is the weakness of Black's ¥/1-side fts. It is just a question of the best means of turning them to account.

20. Na4 Qd8 21. Qb3 Nd5 22. b5! cxb5 23. Qxb5

And the weak ft is a big handicap to Black. Against superb maneuvering by Capablanca, Alekhine found it insuperable.

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His Writings

WHEN ATTACK IS THE BEST DEFENSE Counterattack on King

Dr. E.H. Staples, of Boorowa, writes:

Am pleased to see you are coming round to the idea that chess has a lot in common with military strategy .... One thing I have always believed in, in chess, as in other things, "Counter attack is the best defense." (I understand you do not endorse this maxim. Perhaps it is a case of "not always.") I believe in it partly for psychological reasons, and after all, psychological considerations are important both in war and chess.

This excerpt will serve as a peg on which to hang a little chess instruction, if nothing else. In the A. C.R. of November 1939 we wrote:

The aphorism, "The best defense is attack," is absurd if regarded as a general truth. When faced with the threat of attack, a good chess player does not depend on aphorisms. He takes stock of his position and decides whether to employ defensive, counterattacking, or "prophylactic" tactics.

This old saw, "The best defense is attack," sacrifices exactitude for effect. Our correspondent will see that we agree with him if we put his thought to the shape of the following maxim: Play defensively only when necessary. This is not for psychological reasons. It is a law of struggle. But psychological reasons may sometimes lend it added weight.

Before dealing with counterattack proper, we must warn the inexperienced against confusing it with "cross-attack." If a ft , say, attacks a piece, and the opponent in reply makes an equivalent attack on an enemy piece, he is indulging in a "cross-attack." In general, this is an elementary error, for if both players have equivalent reciprocal threats, the advantage lies with the one who has the move. Unless the "cross-attack" has some ulterior purpose, it should be avoided; instead, the threatened piece should move.

Now for counterattack proper. To be of any use, a counterattack must be either: A. Aimed at an objective of superior value to the objective of the original attack (e.g.,

counterattack against '11 in answer to 'l!'1-sider). B. Or, if aimed at an objective of equal value, must get home first (e.g., reciprocal

attacks against 'lls castled on opposite wings). C. Or, if aimed at an objective of inferior value, must be assured of getting home well

before the original attack, and of drawing enemy force away from that attack (e.g., 'l!'1-side or central counterattack in answer to threatened attack on '11).

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EXAMPLE OF "A"

An attack on the wing remote from the enemy '31 is the most vulnerable to counterattack, and is therefore seldom embarked upon by good players unless they think themselves pretty well impregnable in other parts of the board.

Such an attack may have for its object either the creation and advance of a passed ft (a "majority" attack) or merely the gaining of space. In the latter case, even a ft minority may be advanced, as in the Carlsbad Attack in the Queen's Gambit Declined. This may come about after the following moves: 1. d4 d5 2. c4 e6 3. Nc3 Nf6 4. Bg5 Be7 5. e3 0-0 6. N£3 Nbd7 7. Rc1 a6 (the Argentine Defense, so called because of its adoption by both players in the famous Alekhine-Capablanca Match, Buenos Aires 1927) 8. cxd5 exd5 9. Bd3 c6 10. Qc2 Re8 11. 0-0 N£8.

Because the ft position in the center is fixed for a long time, White is justified in embarking on a �-side push to gain space, starting with b4 and a4 (after which the possibility of a break by b5 always hangs over Black).

What should be Black's policy? White's '3/-side has no ft advanced to

provide a target for an assault, and it has been customary for Black, after freeing his game a little by exchanges provoked by ... Ne4, to continue placidly trying to free his game a little more, with a view to an ulti-

mate draw, the idea being that White's gain of space on the �-side ought not to be decisive-or at least Black hopes not.

This sort of thing is evidently anathema to our correspondent, and it is equally so to us. In ElAjedrezEspanol, October 1934, Dr. Tartakover analyzed the variations at length, and proposed that in spite ofWhite's apparent impregnability on the '3/-side Black should go "hell for leather" at him. Tartakover developed his theme with the following, apparently a purely imaginary game but one which will well repay study. The article was never published in English as far as we know.

12. a3 Merely a temporary measure to sup

port b4-played by Capablanca. Other players have suggested 12. Rh 1, as the a- ft wants to go to a4. Tartakover would still reply as in the text.

12. . . . Nh5! A point of this is to avoid the simplifi

cation produced by .. . Ne4, as Black wants plenty of pieces for his attack on White's '3/.

13. Bxe7 Qxe7 14. b4 g5! 15. Bf5

A very reasonable simplification. 15. g4 16. Ne5 Qg5 17. Bxc8 Raxc8 18. Na4

Tartakover mentions that 18. Ne2 would display more circumspection, but would renounce the initiative.

18. 19. Nd3 20. Nb6 21. a4 22. b5

f6 Ng6 Rc7 Nh4 Kh8!

Black must continue to build his counterattack carefully, for if 22 ... Nj3f, simply 23. Kh 1! and Black must retreat.

23. bxc6 bxc6

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His Writings

24. Nb4 Or 24. Nf4 Nxf4 25. exf4 Q::f4 26. Nxd5

Nf3f!! 2Z gxf3 Qg5! 28. f4 Q::d5 with a superior game for Black (Tartakover). [Ed.: Master Ron Wieck points out an error by Tartakover, viz. 28. Ne3! wins. If28 . . . gxf3t, then 29. Kh1.]

24. . . . Rg8 And Black threatens . . . Nj3f. 25. Khl Rcg7

Again threatening . . . Nf3. 26. Qe2 g3!!

And if 2Zfxg3, . . . Q::g3!!This may work even if the enemy has advanced no ft in front of his castled et;.

27. f4 Qf5! 28. h3

If 28. Q_d3, .. . gxh2 is sufficient. If 28. e4, . . . gxh2!! 29. exj5 Ng3f, etc.

28. . . . Qxh3t!! Black has such a concentration of force

that whatever White did would allow some winning sacrifice.

29. gxh3 g2t 30. Kh2

Wins against other defenses are quite easy and should be worked out as an exercise.

30. gxfl=Nt 31. Rxf1 Rg2t 32. Qxg2 Rxg2t 33. Khl Ng3#

Of course, this brilliant imaginary game, though logical from start to finish, proves nothing, nor would it be possible ever to demonstrate that Tartakover's idea was or was not sound. Such considerations do not matter in practical chess. Ideas are what matter. The player who has a good idea and gets a chance to execute it is likely to win, other things being equal.

The important thing about this example is to see how Black was able to develop an attack on White's et; without any organic weakness in that quarter. The only weak-

ness was a shortage of pieces, which, after all, is more important. A more balanced game would have developed had White played 18. Ne2 instead of 18. Na4.

Students of the opening will notice that Tartakover's idea enhances the merit of the Argentine Defense ( Z .. a6in reply to Z Rc1 in the Pillsbury Attack, Orthodox QG.D.).

Note that the move .. . a6is not wasted, because after White has played b4 and a4 in this system Black plays . . . a6 in any case, so as to answer b5 with . . . axb5, thus avoiding a weak ft at a7.

King-Sider Countered by Queen-Sider We have seen a "i;Y-side attack by White

countered by a ct;-side attack. Black made no attempt to defend his i;Y-side. There was no need. White's objective was the unambitious one of gaining space. White could be allowed to achieve that in full provided Black could achieve something elsewhere.

Quite different is the problem of answering an attack on one's own et;. If the attack has any force at all, it stands to reason that counterattack (unless against the enemy et;) cannot be a complete answer, simply because mate wins. Some protective moves will be necessary. The problem is to discover an effective defensive plan requiring the minimum number of moves, so that as much attention as possible can be devoted to counterplay.

Let us assume both ct;s are castled on the ct;-side. Your counterplay will be either in the center or on the i;Y-side. For preference, of course, the center. Counterattack in the center can be combined with defense on either flank. Also, counterattack in the center can readily be turned into attack on the attacker's own et;.

Strong players rarely embark on any flank attack unless they have the center either blocked or well controlled. In that ev,�nt, the counterplay has to be on the

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'l;¥-side. The objective of a 'l;¥-side counterat

tack may be any of the following: a. To create and advance a passed ft ,

as in the example to be discussed. b. To wreck the opponent's ft posi

tion with a view to having an endgame advantage ready-made after ending the enemy's attack.

c. To gain mobility for one's pieces, e.g., opening of c-file and doubling of �s therein, followed by seizure of the seventh/ second rank.

If the defender does not try for counterplay at all, but overprotects his )tl-side, the attacker may use his initiative to switch his attack to some other quarter. The war analogy is obvious.

Let us be quite clear before proceeding. When one's )t1 is attacked, and the enemy )t1 is not itself vulnerable, counterattack cannot possibly be an adequate defense. But counterattack must be linked with defense if possible, and as soon as possible. The ideal number of defensive moves is the minimum necessary, but it is fatal to fall below the minimum, so that a slight amount of overprotection (remember, your )t1 is the target) is a good fault. What exactly is the minimum necessary has to be left to the player's judgment, which is developed mainly by studiously playing over published games.

As an illustration of the foregoing, it would be sacrilege to pick any game but Pillsbury-Tarrasch, Hastings 1895. Those who know this game "back to front" will be saved the trouble of playing it over, and need just read through our notes.

Pillsbury's )tl-side attack was handicapped throughout by an early loss of two tempi. Tarrasch's counterattack on the 'l;¥-side was completely adequate, but Pillsbury got home. How did it happen?

Pills bury-Tarrasch Q_GD-Orthodox Defense

1. d4 2. c4 3. Nc3 4. Bg5 5. Nf3 6. Rcl 7. e3 8. cxd5 9. Bd3

d5 e6 Nf6 Be7 Nbd7 0-0 b6 exd5

If 9. Bb5 (Capablanca's move), . . . Bb7 10. 0-0 c6! and Black has a fair game, though his 'l;¥-.ll is imprisoned for some time. The text move is still considered White's best by many.

9. Bb7 10. 0-0 c5 1 1. Re1

A "mysterious Rook move" played to discourage Black from opening the e-file. White has no time for such a finesse; probably best is 11. �2, or perhaps 77. Bb 1.

1 1. . . . c4 Black voluntarily releases his pressure

in the center, thus leaving White free for a )tl-side attack, but at the same time creating a 'l;¥-side majority and so preparing 'l;¥-side counterplay.

12. Bb1 a6 Preparing . . . b5 to get his counterpush

ready before White gets going. 13. Ne5 b5 14. f4 Re8

Preparing his next move for protection ' of his castled )tl, at the same time developing.

15. Qf3 Nf8 Frequently a valuable protective move

for a castled )tl. Compare its mobility on this square with that of the � previously.

16. Ne2 Ne4 White has momentarily withdrawn a

piece to transfer it to the )tl-side, so Black

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His Writings

leaps in and forces a simplification to end his cramp.

17. Bxe7 Rxe7 18. Bxe4

The A is useless to White with the long diagonal permanently obstructed.

18. . . . dxe4 19. Qg3 f6

Black continues to try to weaken White's potentialities on the �-side. He pushes away a well-posted 4), and guards well in advance against f5f6.

20. Ng4 Kh8 Again defensive; the threat was obvi

ous. There were other parries, but a permanent one, as the text move is, was much the best on principle (unpinning the g- ft ) .

21. f5 Qd7 22. Rf1 Rd8

No one has fathomed just what Tarrasch had in mind here.

23. Rf4 Qd6 24. Qh4 Rde8

Making ready against Nj2 and Nc3. 25. Nc3

Apparently a loss of time, but White is concerned to obviate the counterstroke .. . Qg4.

25. . . . Bd5 26. Nf2 Qc6

The object of the fourfold attack on the ft is achieved: simply to get the black "IJJ where it can't bite. This difficult part of the game was never explained by annotators.

27. Rf1 b4 Note that Black launches his counterat

tack only when he has all his pieces posted in readiness for �-side defense.

28. Ne2 Qa4 29. Ng4 Nd7

Against Nxf6. 30. R4f2 Kg8!

The threat of the ft capture is, as usual, stronger than its execution. By taking the ft you give the attack free rein, whereas by

using the move to protect your � and retaining the threat of the ft capture, you make the enemy withdraw a piece to protect the ft .

31. Ncl Thus the counterattack has accom

plished an essential objective, the withdrawal of a potential attacking piece. Unless a counterattack succeeds in this, it is normally a failure.

31. 32. b3 33. h3

c3 Qc6

White must start a pawnstorm to renew his attack.

33. . . . a5 As White's pawnstorm needs several

moves for its execution, Black has time for similar activity on the "'JJ-side.

34. Nh2 a4 35. g4 axb3 36. axb3 Ra8!

Black sees his way to win the b- ft and win with two advanced united passed fts.

37. g5 Ra3 38. Ng4

� � �� 4)� �r %� %� -- - �?2:ir� � �� %'"%� �%C%�Af&45� ��%p%""<�%%'·· ··,i � .ft r.. « ?..1 ·'/§ � .ft - -� --. . -� -� "� � ��:"""��'tl� � � � L.r<

38 . . . . Bxb3? At the eleventh hour, Black fails

through over-finessing. It was not really necessary to embark on deep calculation to discover whether the text move was playable. The correct reasoning was:

1. After 38 ... Bxb3 39. Nxb3 Rxb3, I (Black) will have lost one of my �-side defenders-the A. This will certainly im-

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prove White's chance of pushing his attack through.

2. If I give up the Exchange by 38 .. . Rxb3 39. Nxb3 Bxb3, I retain the Bishop, still bearing on my �-side, and White's attack is more likely to be stopped. In that case, the two .ft.s must win despite the loss of the Exchange.

Black, however, worked out by dead reckoning that he could hold up the attack even after the text move. Such calculation is always unreliable, as an attack so often has some hidden resource hardly fathomable under a time limit.

In a nutshell, Black's mistake was to strengthen (unnecessarily) his i!i'-side counterattack at the expense of his �'s safety.

39. Rg2 Kh8 40. gxf6 gxf6 41. Nxb3 Rxb3 42. Nh6 Rg7 43. Rxg7 Kxg7 44. Qg3t! Kxh6

A grim awakening. Black must take the 4:), as Qg-Bfwould win the )==! . But even now he may hope to escape, as 45. Rf4 would allow perpetual check. White's next move is the one that makes the finish memorable.

45. Khl!! Qd5 46. Rgl Qfl 47. Qh4t Qh5 48. Qf4t Qg5 49. Rxg5 fxg5 50. Qd6t Kh5 51. Qxd7 c2?

Presumably an oversight due to fatigue, shock, etc. After 51 .. . Rblf 52. Kg2 Kh6White must play accurately to win.

52. Qxh7#

Flank Attack Countered in Center We have seen a i!i'-side attack coun

tered by a �-side attack; in that case, counterattack alone was sufficient; and a �-side attack countered by a i!i'-side attack; in that

case, the counterattack cannot possibly be sufficient-some defensive measures are necessary.

We are now to see a flank attack countered by a central attack. When counterattack in the center is possible, the flank attack breaks down almost automatically, even though made against the �. That is the general rule, and it is so well-known nowadays that good players do not begin flank attacks unless they have established control of the center or unless the center is well blocked by .ft.s (e.g., 7. e4 e6 2. d4 d5 3. e5).

We can, however, find examples in master play if we go back to the days before the principle had been discovered. Take the fourth game of the Anderssen-Morphy Match of 1858. We start from the beginning, because it is interesting to see how, even in the opening, Anderssen was firmly bent on a �-side attack.

Anderssen-Morphy Ruy Lopez: Morphy Defense

1. e4 e5 2. N£3 Nc6 3. Bb5 a6 4. Ba4 Nf6 5. d3 Bc5 6. c3 b5 7. Bc2

The imaginative Anderssen already has in mind the attack on the point h7 which actually comes to pass.

7. • • • d5 The average player will more easily

learn to play commonsense chess from the games of Morphy than any other player. The present writer played over Morphy's games before he even met an opponent, and we commend them to all who find modern games too complex to understand. Steinitz objected to the text move because it left some .ft. weaknesses. But Morphy

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His Writings

thought it worthwhile for the sake of freeing his game-and that is a lesson which the average player should take well to heart.

8. exd5 Nxd5 9. h3

Again based on the motif of \tl-side attack! Anderssen reasons that if he allows .. . Bg4 and then drives the ,il to h5 by h3, Black will have a � to defend his \tl-side.

Morphy rarely made such moves, because he realized intuitively the importance of rapid development.

9. . . . 0-0 10. 0-0 h6

In order to play .. . Be6 without having to fear Ng5-a precaution frequently taken as a matter of routine even today.

1 1. d4 exd4 12. cxd4 Bb6 13. Nc3 Ndb4 14. Bb1 Be6

Black could have taken the ft , but it would have given White the opportunity he wants, to start attacking. So often a weak ft is better left as a burden to the opponent!

15. a3 Nd5 16. Be3

If 16. Nxb5, .. . Nf6! [Ed. : In the event of 16 . . . axb5?, White creates a double attack with 17. Qs2.}

16. . . . Nf6 17. Qd2 Re8

Obvously White can start an attack by 18. Bxh6. Black cannot prevent this, but he is so well situated centrally, especially after the text move (seizing the open file), that he knows White's attack would not succeed, e.g., 18. Bxh6!? Nxd4 19. Nxd4 (not 19. Qg5 Nj5!) Q:d4 20. Qg5 Nd7 and the attack has broken down.

18. Rd1

Now White really threatens Bxh6. Also, he has set a clever trap. White wants Black to play 18 .. . Bb3, when follows 19. Rc1. If at once 18. Rc1, simply 18 .. . Ne7, when 19. Bxh6 gxh6 20. Q:h6 fails because of 20 . . . Nf5!But if Black's � can first be lured to b3, this last resource would be impossible.

What is Black to do? He could, it is true, parry White's threat by 18 ... Ne7. But Morphy finds a much better move.

18. . . . Bd5! Counterattack in the center! Nearly 70

years later, Nimzovich stated the general principle that centralization was the normal method of forestalling or defeating a \tl-side attack.

If now 19. Bxh6?, . . . Bxf3 20. gxj3 Nxd4 completely smashes the "attack." Or if 19. Nxd5, . . . Q:d5 20. Bxh6 gxh6 21. Q:h6 Ne4 with the same effect. Note the great power of the centralized pieces as compared with the pseudo-attackers on the wing.

19. Ne5 Qd6! Black could "win a ft " by 19 ... Nxe5

20. dxe5 Rxe5, but 21. Bxb6 cxb6 would render it of no account.

20. Qc2 Now White has his long-sought attack

on the point h7. He could have played Qj3, but prefers to force Black's hand by threatening Nxd5, etc. If Black accepts the offered ft , he must permit White's ¥11 to enter at h7.

20. Nxd4! 21 . Bxd4 Bxd4 22. Nxd5 Qxe5

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23. Nxf6t Qxf6 24. Qh7t Kf8

Black can easily stand the check at h7, after all. It is well to remember that it is nearly always harmless if the g- ft is protected, as here. White's attack collapses like a pricked balloon. Centralization has defeated it quite effortlessly.

25. Be4 Rad8 26. Kh1 Bxb2 27. Rab1 Rxd1t 28. Rxd1 Qxf2 29. Qh8t Ke7 30. Qh7

And Black could now have cut short White's agony by 30 . . . RdB!, as 37. RxdB would lead to mate. Observe how all Anderssen's ingenuity was wasted, because he was all the time isolating what is now known as a leading principle of chess strategy: that a flank attack must fail if the opponent stands better in the center.

WHEN COUNTER

ATIACK IS WRONG

fail if the opponent can counterattack in the center.

In the 1941 New York State championship, grandmaster Reuben Fine violated the rule just given. Fine's counterattack was exceedingly plausible; yet is was wrong, as he himself pointed out afterwards.

The diagram shows the position after White's 16th move, j3.

Fine

Reshevsky

White threatens to secure a mobile pawn-center by e4. Black has an obvious parry which develops a piece at the same time.

When we presented our three-part ar- 16. . . . Rfe8 tide on "When Attack Is the Best Defense," 17. Ng3 (theprecedingarticle) , we promised to cap the White again threatens e4. Black can series with an article on "When Attack Is again parry the threat, improving the posiNot the Best Defense"-this is it. tion of one of his pieces at the same time.

We do not attempt to show all the That is quite different from a purely defenpossible circumstances in which counterat- sive move which does nothing to improve tack is wrong. Naturally, it must always be one's striking power. left to a player's own judgment whether he 17. . . . Ne6! will rely wholly or partly on counterattack. Of course 77 . . . RadB would not pre-These articles can do no more than mold vent e4 at all. The text-move does: for exthe player's judgment. ample, 78. e4? dxe4 79. fte4 Nc5!-and Black

There is a general case, however, for wins a ft . which counterattack is against principle; 18. Re1! Rac8! and that is the case where the attack is in the Black develops his other .§ . Quite right, center. as 79. e4 is still defeated as in the last note-

That follows at once from the principle try it out. Do not make a defensive move (already stated) that a flank-attack should unnecessarily.

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His Writings

White's possibility of starting an attack by 30. Qf5. Command of the center nearly always gives a good chance of successful flank attack.

30. ctdl cth5 31. g3 g6

Black plays this weakening move for fear of f4!5 which would give White an overwhelming command of space-all based on White's command of the center.

32. f4 f5 33. ctf3 Rd8 34. g4 N8g7 35. gxf5 Nxf5

As 35 . . . gxf5 would leave Black tied So far Black has played perfectly, each up.

time stopping e4, a move which if it could 36. Ng4 Rf7 once be played safely would give White a clear initiative. Black should now have persisted in that sound policy by 21 ... Red8!, with a balanced position.

Instead, Black decides to permit White's advance in the center and to rely on counterattack in the c-file. That plan is so exceedingly plausible that it is highly instructive to follow it out and to see how it fails.

21. ... cth3 22. Nf5 Rc7

Doubling on the open file-certainly the most mobile position for Black's .§s. But sometimes it may pay better to hamper the enemy's pieces rather than to give rein to one's own.

23. e4 Rec8 The issue is now clear: White's central

attack offset by Black's complete control of an open file on the flank.

24. Rd3 cta4 Not . . . �2??Why? 25. e5 Ne8 26. Ne3 cth5 27. Rd2 cth3 28. Rd3 cth5 29. Rd2 cta5

Black fears to repeat . . . @3 because of

37. Nf6t And by thus establishing a � in the

enemy camp, for which Black will probably have to give up a .§ , White demonstrates a clear advantage.

Precisely this position will of course never occur in the student's own play. Nevertheless, the memory of how Fine tried such an apparently strong counterattack against a central push-and failed-should be a valuable guide to the student when dealing with any kind of central operation at all.

The. complete

R.eshevsky .. Fine tame

appears as Game 5 1 in "C.J.S. Purdy's Fine Art of Annotation Vol. 5" • • •

to be published.

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THOSE "TWO BISHOPS" The "two Bishops" are the reason for the old advice not to be too ready to exchange

a 1i for a � in the opening. Beginners naturally find this advice difficult to understand when, at the same time, they are told that the A and � are approximately equal. The point is, however, that the exchange of 1i for � early in the opening will deprive you of "the two Bishops" while leaving your opponent with them. If, however, one A on each side has already been exchanged, it does not matter about parting with the other, and an exchange must be judged on its merits.

Before smugly congratulating oneself on the possession of two As, or before gleefully playing for the possession of them, there are two questions to be asked:

1. Are they both mobile? 2. Has the enemy a very powerful �?

Considering the first question, remember that a A cannot be mobile if the squares on which he moves are clogged by his own fts, and those fts are blocked. Perhaps the chief disadvantage of an isolated ft on d4/ d5 is that it considerably enfeebles the 'l!¥-A by obstructing both the long diagonals which intersect on that square. A couple of lis like best of all to see no ft of any sort on e4, d4, e5, or d5. On the other hand, one can't pander to these dignitaries to the detriment of one's forces as a whole, and the value of a pawn center is well known.

The second question is equally important. A ft -supported, unassailable � on e6/e3 or d6/d3 is well known to be so powerful that it usually pays the enemy to give up a § to get rid of him (provided a ft is obtained into the bargain). It follows that such a � must be stronger than any A -barring freak positions. So if you have two As and the enemy has such a �

' you can write the two As off, as one will have to be used to exchange off the �.

That is, unless you yourself have a � for the purpose. A ft -supported, unassailable � on e5/e4 or d5/d4 or f5/f4 is usually not quite as

strong as on e6/e3 or d6/d3-except on f5/f4 against an exposed �. But much the same principle applies: the � usually has to be got rid of, so if you have two As and no other minor pieces you are likely to have to part with one A.

But positions arise where, even though the enemy's �s do not appear to be well placed at the moment, they can get the upper hand of the two As. The following opening play from the New South Wales Championship of 1930, which showed the high strategical ability of M.E. Goldstein, is a remarkable case in point.

M.E. Goldstein-Purdy

1. d4 Nf6 2. Nf3 e6 3. c4 d5

- 1 00 -

4. Bg5 5. e3 6. Nc3 7. Rcl

Nbd7 Be7 0-0

Thus we arrive at the "normal posi-

His Writings

tion" in the Queen's Gambit Declined. 7. . . . b6

Old-fashioned, though not by any means bad. The noncommittal . . . c6 is usually preferred.

8. cxd5 exd5 9. Bb5

Capablanca's move. 9. Bb7

10. 0-0 a6 11 . Ba4 c5

This was the "book" move until my suggestion of transposing with 77 ... RcB was adopted. Mterwards, I suggested an alternative in 70 .. . c6instead of 70 . . . a6. The final verdict has not been given.

12. Bxd7! This was original here. White breaks

the old maxim about not making a voluntary early exchange of A for ltl.

Chess players may be divided into three classes: those who don't know the principles, and are therefore very weak; those who know the principles, and are less weak; and those who know how weak the principles are, and are strong.

12. . . . Qxd7 Not 72 ... Nxd7 73. Bxe7 Q!e7 74. dxc5

Q!c5 because Black then has ( 1) an isolated d- ft ; and (2) a A obstructed by it.

13. dxc5 bxc5 Black now has the "hanging pawns,"

which are often well described as "both weak and strong." They are weak because they need pieces to protect them, and strong because they form a phalanx that controls a lot of the center. If it were Black's move, he would have a good game with his two As, but it is White's move, and a certain tactical possibility turns the scale the other way. Hence the fallacy of judging a position on its general appearance without looking to see if the side whose turn it is to move has some special opportunity.

14. Na4! Qb5

White had a double threat: a fork and a ft capture.

15. Bxf6! gxf6 White has parted with his other A.

Evidently wisely, as he wrecks Black's �side in compensation. True, there is danger of Black building up an attack per medium of the opened g-file if permitted, but he will not be permitted.

16. Nh4!

Truly a remarkable position. White has both ltls in their traditionally worst situation (edge of the board), and Black has the traditionally powerful two As, and yet White has the advantage. Black's disabilities are six weak fts and a weak �.

16. Bc8! 17. Nc3! Qxb2 18. Rc2 Qb7 19. Nxd5

And now the point. Black cannot even retain his two As, White's ltls having become so menacing. The sequel was slightly amusing: 19 ... Kh8 20. Nxe7 Qxe7 21. Qh5 Be6, and now the plausible 22. Rxc5? White should have been content with 22. Q!c5, getting a superior endgame, for now Black had an opportunity-which he missedof turning the tables and gaining a winning advantage by 22 ... Bg4! 23. Qj5 RfdB!

One cannot too frequently point out the moral that the price of success in chess is eternal vigilance. On this occasion, however, Black missed the chance and White went on to win.

- 1 0 1 -


MORE ON THOSE TWO BISHOPS Almost every other time he plays through an annotated game, the student will come

across some glib remark about "the two Bishops." The purpose of this article is simply to tell him what it all means if he is a beginner, and to clarify his ideas on the subject if he is a little more advanced.

When you say a player has "the two Bishops," you nearly always mean that he has them and his opponent hasn't-the poor fellow has to struggle along with a .Q. and '£), or two d£)s.

It is easy enough to see why the two .Q.s should be strong. The chief weakness of a .Q. is that it commands squares of only one color. If its fellow .Q. is on deck, each covers up the other's weakness. A less obvious strength is that two .Q.s never overlap. Neither of them is ever wasting its strength in commanding squares held by the other. Like a good doubles pair in tennis, they never clash.

In an endgame where you have only one .Q., you try to keep your fts on the opposite calor, in order that .Q. and fts may command the maximum number of squares between them. With two .Q.s, obviously you do not have to worry about that.

Just how good are two .Q.s? This depends largely on two main factors: ( 1) whether they have or can get open diagonals; (2) what possibilities the enemy has of exchanging them.

The first factor is obvious. In a very blocked position, the two .Q.s can easily be inferior to two d£)s. You don't have to be a master to see that when two .Q.s are shut in they are below par in value.

The second factor is also easy to understand. The exchange of one of your .Q.s means the end of the team, so if the enemy has several minor pieces, and you have to avoid certain moves because they would mean the exchange of one of your .Q.s, your two .Q.s cannot spring around with the same freedom as when the enemy's minor pieces are all gone.

An astonishing illustration of the power of two .Q.s when free from exchange was provided by the game Crakanthorp-Woinarski. Here both sides had two E(s, and the other pieces were two .Q.s versus ¥tt. The side with the ¥tf was unable to win. Suppose that side had possessed three minor pieces (say two d£)s and .Q.) instead of two El s. Then the great possibilities of exchanging off one of the enemy .Q.s would have made the win absurdly easy.

What value can we give to two mobile, unswappable .Q.s? Certainly they would very rarely be worth a Ylt-but it is safe to say they are worth a El and '£), say a ¥tt less 1 - 112 fts.

Cheron, in his Traite Complet d'Echecs, quotes Teichmann as saying, ''A Rook and two Bishops are as strong as two Rooks and a Knight."

- 1 02 -

His Writings

This appears to mean that the two forces can actually oppose each other on equal terms. As the enemy has a �' the As are not completely "unswappable," so that Teichmann' s claim goes slightly further than mine.

If the enemy has a A, the value of the two As goes down more than if his only minor piece is a �

' because the A's threat

to exchange is harder for a A to evade. But supposing the enemy does not fully

realize the importance of playing for the exchange. Then the two As may retain their maximum value.

An excellent illustration is provided by the Wallace-Gundersen game.

A.E.N. Wallace-G. Gundersen

Black played 17 ••• Qe7, thereby missing his chance. His material advantage of the Exchange ( � for A) is purely an illusion while White has the two highly mobile As.

Therefore Black should have played in the position diagrammed 1Z.. Be7!For ... Bf6. This would not absolutely force the exchange, but if White's �-A has to leave its good diagonal it comes to the same thing. The phrase "two mobile Bishops" implies that the As have or can get just the diagonals they want.

True, after 7Z .. Be7White can win a ft , but with his attack gone, his own �'s exposure would become fatal. Black would then have a slight material advantage (Exchange

for ft ) plus a considerable positional advantage, and should win ultimately.

Having warned the student against thinking the two �s are always strong ipso facto, we re-warn him that they usually are a distinctly valuable pair. It is nearly always good play to sacrifice a tempo in development in order to secure them. An example is White's play against the Nimzo-lndian Defense to the d- ft .

1. d4 2. c4 3. Nc3 4. Qc2 5. cxd5 6. e3 7. a3 8. bxc3

Nf6 e6 Bb4 d5 Qxd5 c5 Bxc3t

Or 8. �c3. White has given up two tempi altogether, because he has made three nondeveloping moves-his 5th, 7th, and 8thwhile Black has made only one, his 7th. Actually, Black has a level game, as his gain in development compensates for the deprivation of benefit of clergy.

The player of the black pieces, however, must be wary of giving up two clear tempi for the �s, for he is already behind in development and may get suffocated before his As can blossom out.

A case in point was the CrakanthorpGundersen game in the New South WalesVictoria Match of 1923.

S. Crakanthorp-G. Gundersen

1. d4 d5 2. c4 e6 3. Nc3 c5 4. N£3 Nc6 5. Bf4 Nf6 6. e3 Be7 7. dxc5 Bxc5 8. Bd3 0-0 9. 0-0 Nb4

- 1 03 -


A very common maneuver. The opponent usually makes a withdrawal with his �-.Q. to evade the exchange. Crakanthorp sees a possibility, however, of overwhelming his opponent by sheer weight.

1 0. Rc1 ! Nxd3

1 1. Qxd3 One may say that Black has lost only

two clear tempi, i.e., with his 9 ... Nb4 and 70 . . . Nxd3, both nondeveloping moves. However, notice that White has developed his Y/1-.Q. in one move, whereas Black will need two moves to develop his satisfactorily, e.g., . . . b6and .. . BbZ So White has really gained three tempi in development since the game began, and this, with his original move ahead, should mean a win. It did, very rapidly, thus: 11 .•. dxc4 12. Qxc4 Be7 13. Bc7! Qe8 14. Nb5 Nd5 15. e4 a6 16. Nd6 b5 17. Qb3 Bxd6 18. Bxd6 Ne7 19. Rc7 Qd8 20. Rd1 Ng6 21. Qc2 h6 22. Bxf8 Qxf8 23. Rcl Ne7 24. Qc5 resigns.

THE PURDY MYSTIQUE

There is something almost undefinable about Purdy's writing ... I get excited even when I proof his body of work because I am learning something (and it's not always about chess) in the process.

It might have been that Cecil had a way of conveying useful information which strong players often took for granted or were unable to write down. While there are many good writers on chess today most are not willing to go out on a calculated limb to give us the necessary insight for real improvement.

Purdy's examples were first class. They were thought out, apropos, and not necessarily from his own play yet, always stored in his own memory banks for future use.

He didn't have the benefit of chess analysis machines yet his own combinative flair was always present. Always look for combinations was his motto.

When I read his notes to Fischer-Stein 1967 I was captivated. The same was true for Reti-Alekhine 1925. How can people play chess like this? Purdy could too, see Game 49 on page 302 ofthis book. It is unbelievable ... so were his writings.

Bob Long, editor

- 1 04 -

His Writings

ROOK AGAINST TWO MINOR PIECES Very few players are confident in struggles of dissimilar forces, e.g., � against minor

pieces, or ¥11 against � and minor piece ( .ft.s on both sides). Undoubtedly the key to correct strategy in such struggles is a true knowledge of the

average relative values. Without knowing the average relative values, you cannot even begin to judge the special relative values in the position before you.

And the textbooks are usually vague. Take the subject of this article, the case of � versus two minor pieces. It is usual to say that a minor piece (A or 4J) is worth three .ft.s, and a � five .ft.s. In that case, a � plus .ft. ought to equal two minor pieces. But the books go on to tell you that two minor pieces are worth � plus two .ft.s. This, again, is grossly misleading as a general statement, for in an endgame the )"! and two .ft.s normally win!

The true facts are: In the opening, two minor pieces (excluding two Bishops) are normally equivalent to Rook and

two pawns. In the endgame, two minor pieces (excluding two Bishops) are normally equivalent to Rook and

one pawn.

As the endgame approaches, l"!s and .ft.s increase in value. The simplest way of expressing the facts arithmetically is to say that the )"! equals five .ft.s at all stages, but a minor piece equals three and a half .ft.s in the opening and only three .ft.s in the endgame.

Observe that the .ft.'s value goes up, and the � 's value goes up with it, so that its value in .ft.s is roughly constant. On the other hand, the minor piece's value stays the same; but it is worth three and a half opening .ft.s, but only three endgame .ft.s.

Where does the endgame start? For these purposes it starts when the forces are so reduced that direct mates are ruled out and .ft. promotion becomes the grand objective. This answers very simply the question as to why the .ft.'s value goes up.

The )"! 's value goes up because of its new possibilities of (a) coming safely into midboard, and (b) penetrating the enemy camp and attacking .ft.s from rear or flank.

We can now formulate general rules of strategy for playing with � against two minor pieces or vice versa.

1. If you have Rook (with or without extra pawns) against two minor pieces, play for an endgame.

2. If you have two minor pieces against Rook, and are a pawn or pawns down, or have equal pawns, avoid exchanges as much as you reasonably can.

You may remember we have so far excluded the two As from our valuations. We can best get an idea of their effect by taking an example. At New York 1924, the game YatesReti, a Caro-Kann, reached the position now diagrammed.

- 1 05 -


Reti

Yates

Black apparently regarded Bxe6 as a threat, for he now played 11 ... Nd5, which Alekhine criticized. Alekhine states that Bxe6 is "only an apparent threat," for supposing it to be White's move in the diagram, 72. Bxe6 fxe6 73. f!3e6f Rj7 (forced) 74. Ng5 Bj8, etc., gives Black "a good game," as Alekhine says and as anyone can soon verify.

White gets .§ and two .ft.s for � and 4::1 , but his position is most awkward. What causes this? Is it his minus of one tempo in development? Hardly, for if we put his a-.§ on dl , say, thus putting him ahead in development instead of behind, his position will still be awkward. The student ought to verify this by experiment. We must conclude that White's main trouble is Black's terrific horde of minor pieces. The ¥!!! and .§ s cannot assume aggressive roles or they will merely become targets for minor pieces, but particularly the two �s. To prove that this is so, imagine in the diagram that White's � were at f4 instead of at home, and it were White's move. Then, after 72. Bxe6 fxe6 73. Qfe6f Rfl 74. Ng5 Bj8 (the moves already suggested) White could play 75. Bd6!, forcing an exchange of �s. Thus, 75 ... Bxd6 76. Nxfl Bxfl 7Z Qfd6 and now White must be conceded at least a level game. His ¥!!! is safe on dark squares, and Black has to guard against permitting too many further exchanges, as White would have the better

endgame. Probably it is fair to say as a general rule

that in the opening, if there has been no previous exchange of pieces, two minor pieces should hardly ever be given up for Rook and two pawns; that if one enemy Knight has been exchanged off, the exchange is more likely to be a fair one; while if one enemy Bishop has been exchanged off (or can be), the two pieces could always be yielded without fear. If there have been two exchanges, including an enemy Bishop, then the Rook and two pawns would be rather the stronger combination, other things being equal. This would be because of the better possibility of reaching an endgame.

Whether the player giving the .§ and two .ft.s is left with the two �s or not is of more than usual importance, because the two �s in such circumstances are a greater advantage than normally. The reason is simply that the enemy, being two minor pieces down, will usually have little chance to force an exchange of �s. Normally, where each side has an equal number of minor pieces, the possibility of a future exchange decreases the two �s' value.

The two �s will be dealt with more fully in a special article on them alone. For just now, the following rule will serve.

When the enemy has no minor pieces, two mobile Bishops are worth at least a pawn more than the normal value of two minor pieces, either in middlegame or endgame.

Where the enemy has one or more minor pieces, so that there is some possibility of one of the two �s being exchanged, the superiority would usually be less than a .ft. , ranging down to half a .ft. .

Obviously it makes a difference if, in the process of exchanging the pieces for the .§ and .ft.s, one side gets a weak .ft. or an exposed �. But if the .§ -loser gets the exposed � it may not hurt him much, for the opponent has given up two attacking pieces and is not likely to be ready at once to take advantage of the exposure.

- 1 06 -

His Writings

ENDGAM E

The relative values in the endgame are well summed up by Fine in Basic Chess Endings:

In this ending, two pieces are approximately equivalent to a Rook plus one pawn. When there are a number of pawns on the board, two pieces plus one pawn versus Rook always win. With even pawns, the ending will usually be a draw, but the two pieces win more often than the Rook. Rook plus one pawn versus two pieces is usually a draw. Rook plus two pawns always win.

In all this, we must understand two ,ils as an exception.

Read that again carefully, especially the third sentence. It indicates that normally the value of the two minor pieces is a little less than � and one ft , rather than a little more. Even with no difference in fts at all, observe that the � succeeds in drawing as often as not, and sometimes will win! These times are when the � 's side possesses a "remote passed pawn" and the opponent has terribly weak fts.

Now that we know the high value of the � in the endgame, we shall read with some surprise the following note by Dr. Tarrasch in the Book of the St. Petersburg Tourney of 1914, concerning the diagrammed position from the first game between Capablanca and Lasker. It is Black's move.

Lasker

Capablanca

"Black," writes Dr. Tarrasch, "cannot avoid material loss. He has the choice between 1 . .. Bxd2 2. Rxb3, leading to a struggle with the Exchange down (,il and '£'1 against � and '£'1), and 1 ••• BeSt 2. Rxc5 Nxc5 3. Nxc5, leading to a struggle of � against A and 'tl. With excellent perspicacity Lasker chooses the second alternative, much the more favorable to Black."

This last sentence leads the reader to think that as far as material was concerned, there was nothing to choose, and that it was Lasker's superfine judgment that decided him. Actually, it was a clear choice between almost certain defeat-Exchange down should lose, even with all the fts on one wing, as a rule-and an assured draw.

Why "assured"? Because all the fts are on one wing. Here is a general rule.

Where there are pawns on one wing only, the advantage of one pawn or its equivalent is normally insufficient to win.

Many students will find this article of great help, even though space for illustrative examples is lacking.

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MINOR PIECES FOR A ROOK There is very little in the chess literature on the difference in value between two

minor pieces and �-other than very brief observations. Reuben Fine deals with the endgame values very informatively in Basic Chess Endings

(BCE), but the only exposition of the relative values at varying stages is-as far as we know-in the Australasian Chess Review of January 1944 (see the preceding article) .

The main facts are: 1) In the opening, two Minor Pieces (excluding two �s) are normally

equivalent to � + two fts, '1\vo �s, � + 2-1/2 fts, 2) In an end-game with fts but no additional pieces bar the 'if)s, the

superiority of the two Minor Pieces (excluding two �s) over the � is less than one ft, For two mobile �s, add nearly a ft.

So the difference in value (except for two �s) decreases by more than a ft as exchanges proceed!

The � has least worth in the opening because he is hard to develop. To induce the enemy to give up two pieces for � and two fts is usually fairly good business in the opening.

But the biggest jump occurs with the last exchange of pieces just before the ending described in 2) is reached. In other words, add even one piece to each side and the minor pieces's faculty for combining with other forces will appreciably increase their value. Indeed, Fine says in Basic Chess Endings:

"Three pieces versus two Rooks (equal pawns) is normally a draw, but in favor of the pieces because they have more play."

That is true for two �s and <t, the only combination that Fine gives by way of illustration. Two <i:ls and � are not quite so good; but even if they are barely equal to two �s in an endgame, that shows that the third piece strengthens its fellows by appreciably more than the endgame value of one minor piece (three fts). In other words-and this is the great point to remember-

it and <tl or two <ts, without other pieces, are usually a poor team. The two Minor Pieces are much better in combination with at least one other piece.

In BCE, Fine makes the following statements which do not quite tie up.

A) "In the ending, two minor pieces are approximately equivalent to Rook and one pawn."

B) "Rook vs. two minor pieces (equal pawns) will usually be a draw, but the two pieces will win more often than the Rook."

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If the difference were really about equal to a .ft. on the average, Fine would have to say the ending is usually a win for the pieces. Clearly, a draw might occur fairly often; but a win for the � would be so infrequent as to make the second clause of B) a manifest understatement.

Which statement is slightly out, A) or B)? Probably both-i.e. A) slightly overstates the value of the pieces, whereas B) slightly overstates the value of the � . All of Fine's other remarks and his illustrative positions would tie up better had he changed A) and B) to Ax) and Bx) . Thus:

Ax): Substitute our Proposition 2) at the beginning of this article.

Bx) : � vs. two minor pieces (excluding two As) with equal .ft.s ( .ft.s on both wings) ends in a draw or in a win for the two pieces with about equal frequency. The � may win in very favorable circumstances.

Fine goes into these circumstances in detail in BCE.

One cannot, of course, reduce chess to arithmetic. In all this, we are speaking in averages. Weak .ft.s on either side, badly placed pieces, and so forth, are likely to turn the scale; but nevertheless, a knowledge of the average values is a necessary starting point for forming a judgment in any given position.

Even masters occasionally stray through not fully appreciating the sharp drop in value the .11 and 4J or two 4)s suffer with the transition from mid-game to endgame. Here is the game Ozols-Crowl from the Australian Open tourney in which Ozols threw away a fairly comfortable win by exchanging Y!Js. We give the whole game. Ozols played the first half in his best vein, making his lapse all the more remarkable. Crow!, never noted for his endgame play, played this ending with great skill.

Ozols-Crowl

Q,ueen 's Pawn (Chigorin Defense)

1. c4 e5 2. Nc3 d6 3. g3 Nf6 4. Bg2 c6 5. d4 Qc7 6. e4 Nbd7

By transposition, we are in the Chigorin or Old Indian Defense to the Queen's Pawn. It is more cramped than the King's Indian ( W-.11 in fianchetto) which gives Black opportunities of counterplay with .. . exd4 at some stage, a line which here would only result in worse cramp.

7. Nge2 Be7 8. 0-0 Nf8 9. b3

Or h3 and Be3. 9. Ng6

10. Bb2 Bd7 11 . Qd2 Rd8 12. Rad1 Qc8 13. £4! Bh3

As White did not choose the h3 line on move 9 (after which he could have met ... �Bwith Kh2), it was logical to permit this swap. Although his light squares are weakened, White gains time and gets great control of the board.

14. f5! Bxg2 15. Kxg2 Nf8 16. Qe3 Ng4

An ingenious bid for freedom. 17. Qf3 h5 18. h3 exd4 19. hxg4 dxc3 20. Bxc3 hxg4 21. Qxg4 Ng6 22. Rh1 Rg8 23. Qf3! Ne5 24. Qf4 B£6 25. c5! g5 26. Qcl! d5

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27. Qb2 Qc7 28. exd5 cxd5 29. Rhel d4

Bold tactics in difficulties. Black opens lines to expose White's 'it', Black's 'it' being exposed anyway. If now 30. Bxd4?, then 30 .. . Qs6f starts ruffianly behavior.

30. Nxd4! Qxc5 31 . Nf3 Rxdl 32. Rxdl Ng4 33. Relt Ne3t 34. Rxe3t Qxe3 35. Bxf6 Kd7

dddP � � g � �� it� '� :li:li��) �,��, �� ' ��

36. Qd4t? Time pressure obviously. Yet, even in

clock trouble, it was a strange choice. Ozols cannot have realized what a task he was setting himself. He could have safely played 36. Ne5 f even if he only had a few seconds left (time limit: 36 moves in 2 hours), and that must win with care. For example, 36. Nxe5f Kc8 3Z Qs2t Kb8 38. Nxfl g439. Ne5. White has all he had before, and a passed ft +.

36. ... Qxd4 37. Bxd4 g4

Most adjudicators would adjudicate this position as a win for White-and probably correctly so. Yet the fact that Ozols did not win is evidence of the difficulties inherent in the position.

38. Ne5t 39. Kf2

Ke7 Rg5

40. Ke3 To avoid simplification try 40. f6f. For

example, 40. f6f Ke6 47. Nd3 Kj5 42. Ke3 Rh5 43. Nf4 Rh7 (if .. . Rh2, then a4 helps White) 44. Kd3 with better winning chances for White than in the game.

40. Rxf5 41. Nxg4 Ke6 42. Nf2 b6 43. g4 Rd5 44. Nd3 Rd7 45. Nf4t Kd6 46. Ke4 Ke7 47. g5 Rd6 48. a4 Kd7 49. b4 Rc6 50. Kd5 Rd6t 51. Kc4 Rc6t 52. Kb5? a6t!

This forces a draw. The interesting point is that, according to Kruger, it was generally assumed at the time that if White had not slipped with 52. Kb5?he could have won. This is further evidence that the two pieces are overvalued even by masters. The possibilities are too numerous for demonstration; but we have tried over several lines and compared the resulting positions with some given by Fine, and our conclusion is that a draw would be the correct adjudication even had the white 'it' gone elsewhere.

53. Kxa6 Rc4 54. Ne2 Rxb4 55. a5 bxa5 56. Kxa5 Rbl

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His Writings

Easy now- its on one wing only. In addition, White's W is out of play.

57. Nc3 Rf1 58. Bf6 Rxf6

59. gxf6 Ke6 Drawn

A mine of instruction.

Purdy Library of Chess Each volume of the Purdy Library is a stand-alone selection of material from the published writings ofCJ.S. Purdy. There are 72 articles of a general nature (41 in item 2 and 3 1 in item 7) which amply illustrate the theme Purdy returned to time and again. The Library contains more than 800 annotated games. Included is Purdy's 10 Hours series of articles on the openings (item 6), and it has his thoughts on the end-game (item 9).

Published Titles 1 . Guide to Good Chess, 1 1th edition, 1996. 2. CJS. Purdy: The Search for Chess Perfection, 1997. 3. How Purdy Won: The Correspondence Chess Career of a World Champion,

1983, presently out of print. . 4. CJS. Purdy 's Fine Art of Chess Annotation and Other Thoughts Vol. 1: 100

Annotated Games, Purdyisms, The Purdy Player, 1992. Limited stock.

Titles Under Consideration (all in algebraic notation) 5. CJS. Purdy Annotates the World Championships: Alekhine-Euwe I, 1935;

Alekhine-Euwe 11, 7937; Fischer-Spassky I, 1972. (An all-in-one-volume reissue of Purdy's books How Euwe Won, The Return of Alekhine, How Fischer Won).

6. CJS. Purdy's "Starter Set" Opening Repertoire. An edited version of the series of articles The Openings in 10 Hours plus material on the Colle System.

7. CJS. Purdy 's Fine Art of Chess Annotation Vol. 2: 120 Annotated Games plus 3 1 Articles and Studies.

8. CJS. Purdy 's Fine Art of Chess Annotation Vol. 3: Purdy on Purdy, Annotations to 70 over-the-board games of CJ.S. Purdy and to 30 games of John Purdy, Purdyisms (revised), The Purdy Player, The Road to 2000 (How to Become an Expert) .

9. CJS. Purdy on the End-Game. 10. CJS. Purdy's Fine Art of Chess Annotation Vol. 4: 200 Annotated Games

( 15 Championship, 40 Master, 145 Australia and New Zealand). 1 1 . CJS. Purdy's Fine Art of Chess Annotation Vol. 5: Annotated Games from

1938-1945 and 1976-1979. 12. CJS. Purdy: Caissa Remembers. Articles on the History of Chess, Obituary

Notices for 14 Chess Masters (appreciation of each master's chess career plus a few of the master's best games) .

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WEAK PAWNS AND WEAK SQUARES By far the most important thing about weak its and weak squares is not to overrate

their importance. Always the main difficulty in chess is to estimate the relative importance of different factors, and this is where the books often fail the student.

I have seen a player give up a piece rather than submit to a very bad it formation round his w-side-castled w (isolated doubled its on f2:f3/f7:f6 and it on h2/h7!) .

This player had read a book or two, and he had acquired a horror of such a it position. But the big question was, what could his opponent do with it? Unless the opponent could at once institute a crushing attack, almost anything was preferable to giving up a whole piece (or it may have been a piece for a it -the same applies). As there was no immediate attack, the drawbacks to the position were relatively slight. Indeed, if the player himself was ahead in development, he might have time to get his W to h llh8 and his �s doubled on the g-file, and become the attacker himself.

I recommend the student to turn up the game Klass-L. Steiner, 1946, in which Klass, as White, deliberately allowed Steiner to give him that position because in order to do so Steiner would have to exchange one of his two As for a .:£). Steiner, who had previously had a fairly safe it plus, found himself too poorly developed to make the slightest use of White's "weakened" w-side, and was left with an insecure game.

This preamble will serve to remind the student that a theoretical weakness must be assessed according to the advantage, if any, which the opponent can take of it.

If no immediate advantage can be taken, that does not mean no advantage can ever be taken.

An endgame weakness matters in the middlegame, because the opponent knows that you don't want an endgame and can harass you by inviting exchanges.

Once again, however, let us keep a sense of proportion. The books rightly stress the importance of weak squares and isolated and backward its because such weaknesses are lasting. You cannot easily get rid of them. But the books do not emphasize that, even so, such weaknesses are of smaller account than the purely evanescent weaknesses of pieces, e.g., a "loose" (undefended) piece in an exposed situation, a Yf1 on the same file, rank, or diagonal as her W, or a piece with insufficient means of retreat and therefore liable to be caught in a "net."

Such disabilities can usually be rectified in one move; but if it is your opponent's move, that vital one move is lacking, and you may lose a piece-whereas even the weakest weak it is rarely a worse evil than losing a it .

We have all noticed the moderate sort of positional compensation a strong player is satisfied with for a it minus. Naturally, still less compensation is needed for a weak it or a weak square.

Mter these necessary warnings, let us now examine this question of weak its and weak squares, for I know that many players have only very hazy notions about them.

The most familiar type of weakness is the isolated it , i.e., a it that has no fellow it

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on either adjacent file. Of the same ilk is the "backward" .ft. . This .ft. has a fellow .ft. on at least one adjacent file, but the fellow is in front of it, and the "backward" .ft. is prevented by adverse weather conditions from moving up into line with it. This .ft. is to all intents and purposes isolated, i.e., it cannot be supported by a .ft. if attacked.

That is the obvious disadvantage of a weak .ft. : that it may need the protection of pieces, whose freedom of action is thus restricted.

The weakness is seldom very serious unless the file on which the .ft. stands is open onto it. I do not say simply "open," because by definition a .ft. cannot possibly stand on an open file; an open file is one unoccupied by a .ft. (it can have a crowd of pieces on it, but is still open). But if all that part of a file in front of a weak .ft. is clear of .ft.s, it means that enemy t!s can easily bear down upon it, and that usually makes all the difference.

In an endgame this factor is much less important, because t!s can then hop about more and are likely to attack the .ft. from flank or rear; or else there are no t!s at all. In either case, the "weak" .ft. is really weak, irrespective of the other occupants of its file.

So a weak .ft. is specially to be deplored in an endgame.

The question of weak squares is inextricably interwoven with that of weak .ft.s. Note that a weak square or weak point (same thing) is also called a strong pointfor the opponent.

A weak square, just like a weak .ft. , is one which cannot be guarded by a .ft. . In other words, a piece can occupy it without fear of being driven off by a .ft. . 4)s are the specially good pieces for occupying such points.

Look now at Diagram 1.

Here we have the famous "isolated clpawn". This almost always refers to a .ft. on the fourth/fifth rank, i.e., at d4/d5. If on d3/ d6 as in Diagram 2, the weakness is considerably greater, and if on d5/d4 it is often less.

This is easily explained. A plan to gain a weak .ft. outright is

usually not feasible of execution, and therefore bad. The normal use to be made of weak .ft.s is to put pressure on them to tie up the opponent's pieces.

Even in the endgame this is the main use of weak .ft.s, and a very big use it is.

But in the early stages, as a rule, not much tying up can be done in this way.

More certain of success is the policy of taking advantage of the weak square or squares just in front of the .ft. . For if the .ft. itself is isolated, i.e., there is no fellow .ft. on an adjacent file, the same applies to the other squares on the file. Thus, in Diagram 1, a white 4J on d4 would be very well posted. This d4-square is known as the "blockade" square (Nimzovich), since a

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piece there completely blockades the weak .ft. . Nimzovich showed how the blockade of a single .ft. might exert a cramping influence on a whole army. And the blockading � at the same time radiates power from the blockade square. The � should, however, have the support of a .ft. .

So the routine play in Diagram 1 is 1. Nb5! This � can then be posted on d4, secure in the knowledge that if he is ever exchanged, another � will take his place. If not a �' there should at any rate always be some piece ready to recapture, rather than a .ft. ; for once the square d4 is plugged with a .ft. , obviously the two opposing isolated dfts cancel out. Not altogether-for the new .ft. on d4/ dS acts as a support for a � on eS/ e4, and then the question is, which player is ready to post a 4J on his eS/ e4? That player should have the initiative, other things being equal.

In Diagram 2, Black is much worse off, for now the blockade square is in his own camp; a 4J on dS in Diagram 2 will be a far worse thorn in Black's side than a � on d4 in Diagram 1.

An even more important aspect is that a .ft. /d6 is a worse obstruction to Black's pieces than the one on dS.

In Diagram 3 the same square ( dS) is still weak, even though it actually can be protected by a .ft. ; for . .. c6 will leave Black's .ft. on d6 weak-not as weak as if it were completely isolated or backward, but obviously weak all the same, since it can only attain security by going to dS, and White may be able to prevent that. Therefore a white � is well posted on dS, if only to induce ... c6.

The position of Diagram 3 commonly arises in the Ruy Lopez, through Black, sometimes more or less under compulsion, playing ... exd4, and thus giving White the major share of the center. It is in general slightly disadvantageous to Black unless, in his turn, he can prove White's .ft. on e4 also weak.

Next we come on to the important question of moving .ft.s in front of the castled �. The beginner is told to keep them unmoved, and then sees that experts move at least one of them in almost every game they play!

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ON CASTLE WALLS This article was to have been entitled, "Moving pawns in Front of a Castled King,"

but as that is too long for the page we have commandeered a half-line from Tennyson which serves our purpose equally well.

With all the vast literature there is on chess, it is remarkable how easy it is to find new subjects. One would think that since at least one player castles in nearly every game of chess played, someone would have ere now written an article on the lines of the present one, but to the best of our knowledge nobody has.

To simplify discussion, we shall deal at first only with 'if;-side castling, adding a section on �-side castling near the end.

lt All Depends We are all familiar with the time-honored advice not to move fts in front of a castled

'if(. Rigid adherence to this rule would be about equivalent to imposing on oneself the handicap of ft and Move at the very least. If we had a dollar for every player who has been mated through not moving a ft in front of his castled 'if;, we should be enormously wealthy.

Everything depends on circumstances. To move one of the fts of the castle wall may be extremely helpful; to move another may be suicide. Again, moving it one square is usually far less risky than moving it two squares. It is vitally important whether your opponent has castled or can castle on the opposite wing. If so, a break in your castle wall is likely to be so much the more dangerous, because the opponent can embark on a pawnstorm without spoiling his own castle wall.

The first six diagrams illustrate the six different ft moves in front of the castled 'if;: h4, g4, f4, h3, g3, f3.

On h4

1

White has played M!

The move h4 after 'if;-side castling is usually nothing short of insane, but in Dia-

gram 1, from a game Koshnitsky-Purdy in the Australian Correspondence Championship, it was the best move on the board. For that to happen, its attacking effect must be more important than the weakening effect on the player's own position.

With few pieces on the board, a ft is a proportionately greater fighting unit than in a crowded middlegame; and Koshnitsky, in his efforts to draw with a ft down (they were successful), had to make use of every available unit of force. With his 26. h4!, the move just played, White threatens h5 followed either by h6 for a mating net or else by a ft exchange reducing the black �'s

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security. If Black's � were nearer the �-side,

Black might be able to turn White's sortie to his own advantage; but it isn't, and he can't.

The move also has some defensive value, in that White's � now has two flight squares (g2 and h2) instead of only one-a decided asset.

Strength of Unmoved f-Pawn And here note an important general

rule. White's it position in Diagram 1 is almost the ideal one for a � shelter in a Ykversus-Y!/ ending-with or without other pieces. We say "almost" because from a purely defensive viewpoint it is better to have the h- it on h3 than on h4. But the main features of the shelter are the unmoved ft on f2 and the ft on g3. The ft on f2 prevents check on the rank, while the it on g3 prevents checks on the file. And if driven to g2 and then checked diagonally, the � can escape perpetual check by going to h2.

No other shelter is 'just as good." Don't be fooled by substitutes. Imagine the reverse it chain (h2, g3, f4) and howl with laughter. Or Diagram 3 or 6. Another leaky shelter consists of its on g2 and h3 (Diagram 4 with the f- it flicked away), for it is highly vulnerable to perpetual check.

The main thing to remember is that against a Oyeen an unmoved Bishop-pawn is a great blessing.

On g4 (Worst of All)

�:'! '� �.§i .. �.i

2

Diagram 2 shows a position almost always miserably unfavorable to the castled �. It usually arises through overanxiety to

get rid of a pin. Almost always, the correct treatment of a J1 which pins a � on f3/f6 is first to drive it to h4/h5 by h3/h6, and then think. It is extremely useful to know that in an emergency you can end the pin by g4/g5, but that move should not be made except as a last resort-unless it gains material. As may be seen from Diagram 2, the squares f3, f4, h3, and h4 are all left indefensible by its, and there is great scope for enemy As on the long dark and light diagonals.

Onf4!?

Diagram 3 is a familiar sight. The advance of the f- it often opens up possibilities for the castled § .

At the moment the only square seriously weakened is e3, but one must reckon on having to play Khl in answer to a diagonal check, and afterwards h3 to avoid mate on the back rank. The square g3 will then be weakened.

Thus one may say that f4, while it can be very strong, is often risky; if one's attack is unsuccessful, the move may contribute to one's own downfall.

On hJ (Often Good)

Diagram 4 is a position that is usually quite safe. No squares are immediately weakened, as g3 is still protected by the f- it . The � gains a valuable flight square at h2. Trouble arises only if:

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His Writings

(1) the enemy can castle on the other wing and can advantageously rush down . . . g5 and .. . g4, opening an avenue for an attack on the 'it>;

(2) the enemy can advantageously sacrifice a piece by taking the .ft. on h3.

As a general rule, one can at least say that if h3 hits a piece away-so that one can play it without losing a tempo-it is normally a good move.

5

Diagram 5 is in general a very bad one unless there is a A in fianchetto, and in that case, provided the A cannot be exchanged off, it is usually a very strong defensive position! Without the said A, the weakening of f3 and h3 is often fatal.

This explains why masters make such strenuous efforts to exchange off enemy fianchetto As. A pawnstorm against such a position by . . . h5-h4 is often tempting, but is usually futile unless the fianchetto A can first be liquidated.

On J3 (Sometimes Bad)

6

�,: � ��-� L.�

Diagram 6 shows the f-.ft. moved one square-usually to support the e- .ft. . This formation has the same objection as Diagram 3. If White has a .ll on dark squares and the enemy has not, it is usually pretty safe; but if the opposite state of affairs prevails, it tends, of course, to be highly vulner-

able.

Long Castling (0-0-0)

7

Castling on the i;f"-side, sometimes described as "long castling," is usually less secure than short castling for two reasons (see Diagram 7) :

1. The point a2 is defenseless. 2. The point c2 is protected only by a

King.

The first drawback can be remedied at the cost of one tempo by Kb 1, but not the second (it would be ludicrous to castle on the �-side and then play both Kb1 and Rc1). Therefore, before castling "long" one should investigate whether the weakness of c2 is likely to tell.

Once having castled "long," the points for and against moves of the a-, b-, and c- .ft.s are the same as those for and against moves of the corresponding .ft.s after short castling, with these main differences:

a. The move a3 does not create a flight for the 'it> unless he moves to b 1 .

b. The move c4 is wholly weakening, unlike f4 after 'it>-side castling which may give mobility to the castled .§ .

A Teasing Problem One often finds it necessary or desir

able to create a flight for one's castled 'it>, and has to decide between h3/h6 and g3/g6.

From what has been said, it is clear that h3/h6 will nearly always prove the better move, but here is a position which shows how teasing the problem can be. It occurred in the radio match between Australia and France. M.E. Goldstein (White) had

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to move in Diagram 8 against R. Daniel.

White to play.

White has reached one of those positions in which nothing very progressive can be done, so that one may as well do something that is certain to be necessary sooner or later-here, make an escape for the �. The routine h3has the objection that Black's

� runs on dark squares; also, White's �' if ever driven to h2, would no longer protect f2.

Thus Goldstein was led to play g3, despite the weakening effect on his light squares. Was he right? It is hard to say. Many players would select h3, and not g3 unless obliged to later on.

A third possibility was Rfe 1 followed by Kfl. This is often well worth consideration if an endgame is in sight; but the enemy may be able to make something out of the exposure of the �.

We do not attempt to reach any conclusion. What we have done is to point out the general issues involved to assist players when similar problems arise in their own games.

TO TAKE OR NOT TO TAKE The beginner frequently declines a sacrifice merely because he thinks his opponent

"must have something up his sleeve," even though he himself cannot see it. That is no way to play chess. If the position is too complicated for you to work out, the following considerations will prove helpful.

1. If the piece or pawn offered can play a part in the attack if not taken, always take it if you cannot see a clear objection.

2. This is more likely to obtain where the unit sacrificed is a piece than where it is a pawn. To decline a piece is usually more dangerous than taking it, but this is not true of fts-except advanced passed fts.

3. Where the Exchange is offered ( .§ for � or 4)), much depends on whether the .§ is mobile. It is often bad to give up a mobile � or 4J and ft for an immobile .§ , despite the small gain in material.

4. Where the material offered is "lf1 for !'( and piece, and you are winning, make sure you haven't a stronger move before accepting, as this small advantage is deceptive and the game is often drawn.

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His Writings

HOW TO AVOID TRAPS A player of average strength asked us how to avoid traps in the opening. We gave him

four rules. 1. Move nothing beyond the fourth/fifth rank till all your pieces are developed

(except a ft , if it hits a piece or takes something). 2. When Black, develop your �-A at e7. 3. Avoid h3/h6 or a3/a6 unless it hits a piece. 4. Castle as early as possible (first making sure the enemy hasn't a quick mating

attack starting with Bxh2f!Bxh7f).

These rules will not enable you to play masterly chess, but they will avoid almost all the stock opening traps. If your judgment tells you to break a rule in any particular instance, break it.

Rule 1 stops you from playing Bb5/Bb4, often a good move but a fruitful source of trouble. Yes, it forbids the Ruy Lopez, but the Lopez is a pointless opening unless backed by much study.

An example of Rule 2 is 1. e4 e5 2. Nj3 Nc6 3. Bc4. Here either the Two Knights Defense (3 ... Nj6) or the Giuoco Piano (3 .. . Bc5) is risky without study, whereas the Hungarian Defense (3 ... Be7) is comparatively safe. See Modern Chess Openings.

Once your development is completed, forget the rules. No rules will enable you to beat a better player. But they can show you how to avoid trouble in the early stages.

LOPEZ SUBTLEnES AND STEAMROLLERS Although I have written over a million words on chess, I do not remember ever

having written much about ft majorities in the middlegame. My reason in days gone by was that Nimzovich's My System was so widely read that there was not much need. But for years this book has been out of print, and we must reprimand Messrs. G. Bell and Sons for giving priority to reprints of other books, seeing that My System is the most important chess work of the century. That Nimzovich carries his system to excess is of little consequence; he discovered and brilliantly expounded basic chess truths.

Another thing I have been meaning to do for some time is to give a few thoughts on the Ruy Lopez. Znosko-Borovsky's article in our December 1946 number was admirably provocative, but was clearly a piece of special pleading. In this article I shall not answer Z-B directly, but merely give an idea of some of the subtleties of the Ruy Lopez from White's viewpoint.

I can accomplish both objects by discussing the extraordinarily interesting opening play in the game L. Steiner-B.Y. Mills, Australian Championship, Adelaide 1946-47.

Stein er lost the game from a superior position, but what we are concerned with is the first part of the game; how Mills acquired an inferior position and why it was inferior.

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Purpose of the Lopez The Ruy Lopez cannot guarantee

White an advantage, but neither is it a suitable subject for ribaldry, as the popular Znosko-Borovsky implied in the final paragraph of his article.

Admittedly, it is a bad opening to adopt against a stronger player. Its virtue is that it avoids any favorable simplification and sets all kinds of positional problems for both sides. This will be very clear as we proceed.

L. Steiner-B.Y. Mills

Ruy Lopez-Steinitz Defense

1. e4 e5 2. N£3 Nc6 3. Bb5 Nf6

The Berlin Defense, now used mainly to transpose favorably into the Steinitz Defense. Here we quote R.F. Combe, the Scottish master and 1947 British Champion. B.Y. Mills, by the way, is the grandson of a Scottish champion, D.Y. Mills, who played for Great Britain in eight matches against the U.S.A., ending up at Board 3 Qust below Blackbume), and never lost.

Combe, commenting on 3 .•. Nf6 in one of his own games (B.C.M., January 1947), writes,

Though it may be heretical to say so, I cannot affirm any faith in the Ruy Lopez as an effective line of play for White. Almost any defense can be developed satisfactorily, although Black's usual reply, 3 .. . a6, tends to obscure the deficiencies of White's Plan.

We do not agree with the "almost any," but we do think the defense adopted here is good, and certainly simpler than 3 . . . a6.

4. 0-0 Be7 The more usual way of transposing

into the Steinitz is 4 . . . d6 5. d4 BdZ The text

may have a virtue in giving White less option, since an immediate 5. d4 would be met by 5 ... exd4 with ... Nxe4 a threat. Mills had evidently given the matter plenty of thought; he told me beforehand that he intended to play this line.

5. Rel d6 6. c3

More usual is 6. d4 Bd7 and now mostly Z Nc3, but sometimes Z c3 to avoid the simplifying line Z .. exd4. As Stein er intends the latter, he plays c3 first, thus avoiding .. . exd4 even on Move 6. We called this line "theoretically ineffective," meaning ineffective according to "book theory," but that means very little. Mter all, "theory" maintains that Black should obtain a satisfactory game in any event, and the question here is: can Black equalize more easily against energetic moves that obey the elementary principle of quick development, or against a subtler line which foregoes development in order to keep Black's game restricted? In practice, the answer is that an opponent will usually find more difficulty with the less familiar line.

And we should remind new readers who have not studied our old A.C.R. articles that "opening theory" in chess really means "fashionable opening practice." In spite of the vast literature of chess, there is still no real opening theory. Analysts are constantly making new discoveries which upset current ideas.

6. . . . 0-0 7. h3

As Black has not been forced into an early . . . Bd7, he could now answer d4 with . .. Bg4, or .. . exd4 and then . . . Bg4; and in the Lopez White should never permit that. One is tempted to say that the necessity for this loss of time condemns White's sixth move, but play on to Move 10.

7. . • . Bd7 Again virtually preventing d4, which

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His Writings

would enable Black to exchange off two pairs of minor pieces and thus eliminate the restriction, e.g., 8. d4 Nxd4! 9. Nxd4 exd4 10. Bxd7 Q3d7 71. cxd4 d5 72. e5 Ne4 73. Nc3 f5! with a good game. Therefore, to prepare d4 White must lose another tempo in removing his �-�.

8. Bfl!

Combe's opponent also did this, though in a different variant: 5. NcJ d6 6. d4 Bd7 7. Re1 exd4 (the line Steiner avoided) 8. Nxd4 0-0; and now 9. Bfl. But Combe's note to Bfl could apply in either case. Combe writes:

Tarrasch' s recipe-to profit by the supposed advantage of greater "lebensraum." If this line is really best, it shows that b5 is too sensitive a spot for the King Bishop, and Black has here revealed this fact by the simplest of developing moves.

While we admire Combe's wittily precise style, seen also in the first note we quoted, his reasoning is questionable. The opposing argument is that the � has already accomplished good work at b5, in inducing Black to adopt a restricted position. It is now justified in moving away to preserve that restriction.

Note that White has not lost two tempi with Bb5-fl, but only one, because in returning home the A has not undeveloped itself, but merely moved to another square where it is still developed; for it obstructs no other White piece and is in play.

To see how little Black's "development" helps him, note that his position would be far easier with his �-� still undeveloped, for he could then play .. . d5 with a clear advantage! As it is, he could play it as a .ft. sacrifice, as in the Marshall Gambit, but here White's A/fl affords additional protection to the �-side, and h3 is already played; we doubt if even Harry Klass could get away with it.

Black has various continuations which should be adequate.

One is 8 . . . Re8 9. d4 Bf8!, and if 10. d5, ... Ne7. If then 71. c4, . . . h6 12. Nc3 Nh7! and Black can enforce . . .f5 with the better game. But White could forestall this with 12. Nh2! himself, and if then 12 ... Nh7, 73.f4! 0r, in this, if 12 .. . g5, then 73. g4 and both players would get <tls to their respective f5/f4-squares. White could try to keep the �-side blocked and hope to make something of his extra space on the �-side. It would be fair to say "equal chances."

Or, again, the Kecskemet System, with 8 .. . Be8followed by .. . Nd7, ... Kh8, and .. f6.

But neither of these plans tries to make anything of Black's plus in development; more logical was the one adopted by Mills, which was to answer White's coming d4 with ... exd4 and then .. . d5. This does not mean complete freedom, but Black's pieces will look less silly than at present.

8. . . . h6 Black had to choose some move which

could be of use in the coming position; originally we thought . . . Be6 better, but as we shall see, the move played is excellent.

9. d4 exd4 White now reaps the reward of his

sacrifice of time. He acquires a strong .ft. center. In chess, one does not sacrifice only material. Here White has sacrificed time for space, i.e., has retarded his own development in order to keep Black restricted.

10. cxd4 d5

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Stop a moment to see what Black would play if White had omitted h3:naturally 70 .. . Bg4 (even though this .il has previously moved once) . White's center fts then become weak as well as strong. Thus we see that White's h3 was not a mere forced loss of time through a transposition of moves, but a strategical necessity in White's plan of keeping Black cramped.

1 1. e5 Ne4 12. Nc3 Nxc3

In such positions one plays usually .. .j5 if possible, but obviously not here. Black could play 72 ... Bf5 73. Bd3 (best) Nxc3 74. bxc3 Bxd3 (or .. . Qj7) leading to the same position as in the next note.

13. bxc3 Be6 Far simpler was 73 ... Bf5 at once, al

though, as we shall see, it does not necessarily save a tempo. White could not reply 74. c4?because of ... Nb4.

14. Bd3 15. Bc2

Qd7 f5?

Black's one and only mistake, but a very serious one. He could have played 75 .. . Bf5, and the extra move of this .il is balanced by White's extra move with his (Bc2). Black would come out with essentially the same position as he could have obtained by playing .. . Bf5 on Move 12 or 13. Mills thought 75 .. . Bf5 would lose a ft , but Steiner pointed out that after 76. Bxf5 03f5 77. @3 �6! there is no .ft. to win. "An easy game for Black" (our verdict, not Steiner's) might be improved by substituting "equal" instead of "easy," the latter being rather meaningless. Is a balanced chess position ever "easy"?

Mter 75 ... Bf5! 76. Bxf5 03f5 a better line for White might be an attempt to mobilize his 'it'-side starting with 77. Nh2. Then 77. .. Na5 78.f4 (say) �6 79. Q,d3 (or Qg4) f5! This last move is most important, in order to prevent White's .ft.s from turning into a steamroller by J5, but it should not be played

too soon-certainly not till White has moved his <t\, else he could play exf6 and step into e5 at once, as in the game.

Note that in all these variations the move ... h6 is quite good for Black, as it absolutely prevents Ng5 or Bg5 at any stage.

16. exf6 Rxf6 17. Ne5 Nxe5 18. dxe5 Rff8

The "Steamroller" White's advantages in this position are,

first and foremost, his 'ift-side majority of fts-he threatens to obtain a steamroller of fts with f4, g4, and f5, which would turn Black's pieces into a lot of weak-kneed crocks-and secondly, his command of the mating diagonal bl-h7. In all this, the main trouble for Black is his ... h6. After 'iff-side castling, it is usually safe enough to move the f- ft or the h- .ft. (one square), but not both of these fts, as a "hole" is created at g3/g6. This is why Black's 15th move was so harmful. Mills, of course, realized it was harmful, but it was the only alternative to what he thought was the loss of a clear .ft. .

In the diagram, picture Black's .ft. still on h7. The steamroller threat is then much milder, as Black can wait for f5 and g4 and then play ... g6. Black would have time to initiate 'l;¥ -side counterplay.

PAWN DEVELOPMENT

Note carefully that White's advantages which we have just detailed are structural,

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His Writings

i.e., lasting. Black's partial compensation lies solely in his plus of two tempi in piece development. I say "piece" because, where an advancing ft majority is involved, the passed ft and its adjacent supporting ft can be counted as fighting units, so that one can introduce the conception of ft development; and in that, White is well ahead. Moreover, Black cannot readily turn his dft and c- ft into a steamroller, because his d- ft is not yet a passed ft ; to make a steamroller, he would have to advance all four of his fts on the 'l;Y-side and play . .. b4-a very slow process for which Black has no time, because White's operations include a mating threat at h 7.

Again, in the middlegame the most effective steamroller is one that can assist an attack on the enemy �-

In the endgame, of course, the more remote a passed ft is from the enemy �

' the better.

Pseudo-Development

The student taught from infancy to respect the principle of quick development of pieces may ask in horrified tones: is Black's plus of two tempi to count for nothing at all?

I reply that, especially if there is no open file for E!s, there is always a danger of a plus in development silently stealing away. If one cannot increase it-the ideal-it is usually best to try to exchange it for some more lasting advantage, or to destroy some advantage of the enemy. Suppose you are two tempi ahead and merely try to keep them, then you may be like the man who tries to follow the subtle ironical counsel of Gilbert:

Take a pair of sparkling eyes . . .

Take and keep them-if you can.

You will be beaten by Father Time, if nothing else, and so in chess; a plus in development tends to decrease in value as development on each side progresses. It is a simple statement of ratio-that to have two pieces out to your opponent's none is more advantageous than to have eight pieces out to your opponent's six. But there is more in it than that; if your opponent has an advantage in space, and there is no open file (as in the game before us), you will not be able to develop effectively and may end up with eight ineffectively developed pieces; then you can do nothing much, and your opponent can effectively develop his other two pieces and have a clear advantage.

WHEN AlTACK IS

THE BEST DEFENSE

But the second part of my answer is: an advantage in development can always, or almost always, be used somehow.

In the position diagrammed after Black's 18th, Steiner tried for too much. Wishing to control the mating diagonal completely, he played 19. g4, because he wrongly thought he could stand Black's counterattack (19 ... Bc5).

But if 79. f4!, again, not a "developing" move, be it noted (i.e., not piece-developing), Black is on the brink of a precipice. White threatens g4, acquiring the dreaded steamroller, all the more deadly because of the additional threat of Qj3.

Desperate ills demand desperate remedies, hence my idea of answering 79. f4 with 79 ... Bc5f 20. Kh2 g5! This guards the mating square h7 with the 'l;¥ and, above all, nips the steamroller in the bud (if an editor cannot mix his metaphors, where is our much vaunted freedom of speech?).

With the simple 79 ... Bj5 (after 79. f4) Black could eliminate the mating threat ( 2 0.

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Bxj5 Rxj5), but then after 20. g4 Rjj8 21. f5! the steamroller floats in full bloom.

The plan based on . . . g5 offers a ft and exposes Black's '1;, and these are very good substitutes for the advantages White has to give up, but lines are opened so that Black's advantage in development has at least a chance of making itself felt.

I thought at first that Black might be able to get satisfactory counterplay in all variations, but my analysis was one-sided; in some variations, Black does get "brilliant counterchances," but if White plays with care, attending both to defense and attack, he can show a clear advantage.

Nevertheless, the risky counterattack is Black's best chance. The old saw "The best defense is attack" does not necessarily apply if you are actually being attacked; but it almost always applies if you are in danger of serious cramp. The reason is that no great precision is required to win against a badly cramped game, since the time factor ceases to matter much, but precision is required where the opponent has counterchances.

Some Difficult Analyses

After 1 9. f4

Before proceeding, I mention the immediate 19 .. . g5!? (my "second string") . In reply, not 20. fxg5 because of the "brilliant counter-chance" 20 ... Bxh3!!, for if then 21. gxh3, ... Q!h3 22. Q!d5f Kh8 and White has

to allow a draw. But 20. @5 Bj5 21. e6! Bc5f 22. Be3! Bxe3f 23. Rxe3, and if 23 . . . Q!'8it is White's turn to be brilliant, with 24. Q!h6! (Steiner). White gives up a piece but gets three fts and an attack. [Ed.: Thus, 24 . . . Bxc2 25. Q!g5f Kh7 26. Q!d5, hence the three fts; if25 . . . Bg6, then 26. g4!; if25 . . . Qg6, then 26. e7!]

So we return to: 19. f4 Bc5f 20. Kh2 (not Kh1, . . . Bxh3)

g5! Now our main line ran as follows: 21. @5 Qg7 22. fxg5 Rf2 23. Bg6 hxg5

24. Bxg5 Bj5 25. Oj1. Here we became over-exuberant with

25 ... Q!g6? 26. Q!d5f Be6 2Z Q!c5 RafB 28. h4 Qs2 with a win for Black, but we missed 28. Re3! (Steiner), which breaks the attack and leaves White with a win on material.

So Black must fall back on 25 ... c6 26. Bxj5 Q!g5 2Z Be6f (forced) Kg7 28. Qg4 Q!g4 29. Bxg4 RafB (and if 30. e6, .. . Rc2, as 31. e7? would just lose the ft) . In his superior )":!s and White's weaknesses at a2, c3, and g2, Black has fair compensation for the ft . Steiner proceeds with 30. Rad1! Rc2 31. Rd3 Rjf2 32. Rg3, when 32 .. . Kh6 continues the indeterminate struggle.

However, White can improve on this. Instead of the obvious 23. Bg6, he can play, more solidly, 23. Bd1 !; and if 23 .. . RafB, not 24. Q!h6 but 24. Bg4! (Steiner) . If Black exchanges (what else?), White's passed ft is unblockaded, and White's position becomes virtually impregnable (25. hxg4 is probably White's best way to recapture, though Q!g4 is also good) .

Going right back to Move 21 (after 19. f4 Bc5f 20. Kh2 g5 from the diagram), Koshnitsky suggested the simple 21. fxg5. Then comes the sacrifice, 21 .. . Bxh3! White cannot accept, nor does the obvious 22. @5 promise much (22 .. . Bj5 23. Bb3 Bf2!, and if 24. Rd1, ... Be4 and we believe Black can draw in all variations); but the quieter

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His Writings

developing move 22. Be3! (Steiner) is sufficient to rob Black's counterplay of most of its force; then Black's exposed 'If becomes a very clear disadvantage, and White's e- lt is menacing.

To return to the diagram, although 19. f4 is the sharper move, White's positional advantage is fairly clear if simply 19. Be3. Thus 19 .. . Bf5 (our preliminary ... Qs6 has little point after 20. Rc1!, suggested by Steiner) 20. Bxf5 Rxf5 21. f4 Qs6 (and if 22. g4, ... Rj7). When necessary to hold up f5, Black will play .. . g6 and probably double § s, in certain eventualities even threatening ... g5. The steamroller can be halted, but White retains a clear initiative which cannot be wrested from him if he plays with due care.

Nothing "Just As Good"

In the position diagrammed after Black's 18th, some students may still be skeptical. Has Black really nothing better

against 19. f4 than the desperate sortie discussed? Well, a plausible move is 19 ... Qs6, which certainly delays g4. White plays 20. Qf3. Then if 20 ... RadB(say), 21.f5!(Steiner), for if 21 .. . Bxf5, 22. Bxf5 g6 23. g4 gxf5 24. gxf5 and the steamroller blossoms again. If 24 .. . Qg6t, 25. Qg4!

So we say yes, Black's best chance is the risky line we suggested, and the chief morals are:

1. Mter 'If-side castling, look for danger if you leave the square g3/ g6 without ft protection, especially if the enemy has his w-�.

2. Consider the steamroller, how it grows.

An enemy supported passed ft on eS/ e4 is not necessarily strong at all. If, in the diagram, Black had a ft on fS, White's passed it on eS would be no menace; it is only the advance of the supporting ft to fS that makes a steamroller.

Wltil� we would never pr� to write as weD as CedlPurdy, we do publish. our "Chess Gazette" ten timea per year. If we b.ave one hnprovement over Mr. Purely it is that we are on time (Cecll was notorious for being late to the printer}!

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- 1 25 --


THE TRUE ELEMENTS OF CHESS Fifty years ago, the idea that combinations might be classified logically had never

entered anyone's mind. Writers concentrated on the positional side of chess, not because they thought combinations didn't matter, but because no way of discussing them had been thought of.

Thus, in any book dealing with positional play, you saw, and still see, notes like this interspersed: "White cannot yet play Re7 because of 28 .. . Bxh2f, " etc. Thus the writers always tacitly admitted-even if they were not conscious of it-that every positional idea is subject to combinative sanctions. When the tyro came to apply the ideas, he would find himself overlooking combinations, and would wonder why the books were not helping him as much as he hoped.

The writers, however, could do nothing about it. If a player kept missing combinations, all he could be advised to do was to keep on practicing-or he might play through the various combinations Uust given higgledy-piggledy) in excellent works such as Mason's Art of Chess. You could either see combinations or you could not-just as you can either juggle three oranges or you can't.

Then, first in German and later in English, came Emanuel Lasker, the thinker, with his Manual, in which he showed that combinations could be classified according to the kind of "motif' which gave rise to them. Lasker was followed by Tarrasch, the teacher; although an old man in the last years of his life, Tarrasch rapidly absorbed Lasker's ideas and turned them to his own ends in his famous book, The Game of Chess.

After studying the other articles in this series, most of my readers will now see fairly clearly the difference between positional and combinative ideas. But some of them, I am sure, would like to see it more clearly still.

Take, for example, an attack against the enemy <i1t. Here, the main positional principle is just this:

Superior force conquers. Thus, if you have four pieces posted for attack on a castled <i1t, and the enemy has

only three pieces on that wing (including the <i1t himself, who must be counted as a defender), that's a rough indication that an attack on that wing may have a chance of success.

But in any particular case, the actual possibilities and the methods of procedure must be determined by calculation based on visualized moves.

A famous writer began a book with the proposition that the "elements" of chess were force, space, and time. That is not true. Force, space, and time come into many things besides chess; the things that go to make up chess must be the things that go to make up the whole chess and nothing but the chess, and these are:

The units of force, the 64 points in which they operate, and the rules under which they operate.

If we look into these rules closely, we shall find that all combinative ideas are based directly on them-a thing never pointed out before, except by the present writer in 1938,

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His Writings

but less clearly then. A huge majority of combinations, for

instance, are based mainly on that simple little rule which we all take so much for granted while appreciating so little of its significance. This is Rule 4, clause iii (F.I.D.E. Code) :

"The persons shall play alternately, one move at a time."

See what a huge gulf this fixes between chess and war, though chess was invented as a war game-in the days when war was comparatively civilized. In war, each side just makes as many moves as it can, while it can. The idea of fairness is ludicrous in war. But a contest of pure skill has to be fairhence the artificial rule of moving in turn and one thing at a time.

What do we deduce from this key rule? That we should at all times be on the lookout for an opportunity of placing our opponent under the necessity of making two moves at once, and should avoid getting into such a jam ourselves. A vast majority of games of chess are won and lost by the operation of this rule.

Reuben Fine, in a praiseworthy effort to simplify chess for the tyro, goes to the length of saying, "All combinations are based on a double attack." This is not true, but what I want to emphasize just now is that it would be true with "most" substituted for "all."

There are four types of combination that fall decidedly under the heading of "double attack." They are:

1. "Geometrical" combinations (forks, pins, skewers).

2. Discovered attack. 3. Desperado combinations. 4. Ties-our short term for combina

tions based on a tied piece, i.e., a piece defending another piece or defending, say, the back rank against mate. Lasker called them combinations based on the motif of

"function."

"Geometrical" Motif

Don't let "geometrical" worry you. It is merely the term applied to any attack by a single unit against two enemy units simultaneously. Very often, the three units concerned stand on the corners of a triangle; with a �' the two forked units stand on two corners of a regular octagon; and with a pin, the three units stand in one straight line. A pin may be regarded as merely a particular case of a fork. The same applies to a "skewer," which occurs when two pieces are caught in the same line, with the more valuable one in front-instead of in the rear, as with a pin.

Picture a white )':! and a black � and ¥11 on the same rank or file, no obstructions, )':! never in danger of capture. If the )':! is in the middle, you have a fork. With ¥11 in the middle, a pin. With � in the middle, a skewer. But the effect is always the same: double attack on the � and Y/1, even though in two cases only one unit is actually en prise.

There is another and much commoner kind of pin, where the front piece is not attacked at all, but only pinned. This is more of a "tie." We'll come to that.

Before passing on, let me give an example of how easy it is to miss a fork more than one move ahead. The diagram shows the position just before the winner's final move in the game Keres-Smyslov, 1948 World Championship, second round.

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Do you see any move here to induce Black to resign? The solution is 2Z h4! Bh6 (if 2Z .. Bxh4, 28. Qf4Bg5 29. Q3b8f) 28. Qg3 Kp 29. Bxf6 Rh7 30. @3f, etc.

Discovery Motif Now for 2, Discovered Attack. Here

one piece unmasks an attack by an ally, at the same time attacking something itself. Discovered check is one case of it. This is obviously a double attack.

Desperado Motif That's easy. Now for 3, Desperado. To

show that a desperado combination is also a double attack, let us take an example. See the diagram below, which occurs after the moves 1. e4 e6 2. d4 d5 3. Nc3 Nf6 4. Bg5 dxe4 5. Nxe4 Be7 6. Bd3? Nxe4 7. BxeZ

Black plays Z . . Nxf2! This is called a desperado combination, the � being the desperado-he is doomed to die, so he sells his life for a 1l: rather than give it away. It amounts to a double attack on ¥ff and .Q.. Never mind that both the attackers (¥fi and ltl) are en prise themselves. White can take only one of them under Rule 4(iii) . You could not have a more striking example of the rule's importance over all others.

Tie Motif

No. 4, the Tie Combination, is essentially different from all the other attacks, because one attack was already there and you merely add another to it. Suppose your

¥ff is bearing on an enemy !! supported by a �- No effect. All right, now attack the � with something else. Now you have a double attack, and it's effective. Your opponent needs to move the !! to free the �' and at the same time to move the � from danger. And again Rule 4(iii) inexorably bars him.

A piece may be tied (and therefore vulnerable to a combination) in other ways than by having to defend an ally. It may be guarding a mating square, or a mating line, or it may be pinned, e.g., A pins � to ¥ff and then comes e5 hitting the � with great effect, unless the pinning A can be driven off before the blow falls.

There is no point in giving special examples of such everyday occurrences, but here is a more subtle example of a "tie" which I have never forgotten, because through not seeing it I missed tying for the Australian Championship at my first attempt (Sydney 1926).

Purdy

C.L.R. Boyce After 22. N(e2)xd4

Two moves earlier, Black had embarked on a combination which he had now intended to continue with 22 . . . bxa2! 23.Nb3Rh8(threatening .. . Rxb3).Now Black saw that White would then play 24. Na 1, and he reasoned that White would then have a piece for two fts and a surely defensible position, seeing that Black himself is

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His Writings

not yet developed, while White has three pieces tastefully arrayed around his '31 for defense. So Black sadly played 22 ... Qxd4, with a poor game but at any rate getting back his piece.

That was common sense, in its way, but chess is a game of romance.

Black missed that, after the moves indicated up to 24. Na 1, he could reply by putting his ¥11 en priSe with 24 . . . Qs3!!1t gives a forced win in all variations-which it would have been unnecessary4 to calculate in advance, the move 24... Qs3 being so obviously strong once seen.

But that's the catch, to see it. And that is what I have always concentrated on in writing about combinations-what you should look for in every position to avoid missing combinations.

The double attack here is, first, the masked attack on the mating square b 1, and then the second attack on the tied or pinned b- ft . By what kind of search would you be likely to see, several moves ahead, a move like this?

There are two different ways in which the combination might be found, and I suggest to each student that he pick the way

4 [Ed.: Ralph says that both Chess World 1948, p. 268, and the Hammond&Jamieson reprint give "unnecessary." He believes this word is required by the sense of the sentence. Experience has shown that H&J did little, if any, serious editing, of the original articles. While I may be incorrect in what Purdy wants to say, I believe the word he should've used is "necessary," especially in light of his following paragraph. That is, seeing some of these combinations can be very difficult, hence it is often necessary to do hard calculation first. If, however, one is "lucky" to find the right move quickly, then the "hard" calculation becomes wmecessary.]

that appeals to him and employ it consistently.

The first way would be the mechanical one of looking at all moves that threaten something (no matter how absurd-looking), just as one looks at all checks and all captures. Thus, in addition to visualizing the obvious 24th move ... Qj6, also attacking the b- ft , you would force yourself to visualize . . . Qsz3 and .. . Qs3, even though they put the ¥11 en priSe.

The second way would be always to look for any square, file, rank, or diagonal under a masked threat of mate. Here, the square b 1 is under a masked threat of mate from the t'! , and that should immediately suggest a sacrifice, since any material can be given up for mate.

The second way is preferable, because it is more logical. By forming such a habit you would soon develop a valuable intuition in attack. But perhaps one should employ both methods.

I have now dealt briefly with the types of combination based on double attack. They are the ones in which Rule 4(iii) is the main ingredient, though actually it comes into almost all combinations.

Note: Of course other board games have the rule of alternate moving. The reason that these other games do not have combinations comparable with those of chess is because the chess pieces have special moves, and each piece a different one. One result is that most attacks in chess are nonreciprocal, i.e., the attacker attacks without being himself en priSe to the thing attacked, and this of course greatly multiplies the combinative possibilities.

The special moves of the chess pieces are part and parcel of all chess combinations, whereas other rules come into some combinations and not into others, e.g., the rule that a piece cannot occupy or leap over an already-occupied square.

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WHY A PAWN CENTER? Don't be too puzzled by what the books say about the center. It's partly nonsense. A �' A, or Y/1 radiates more power from the center (e4, d4, e5, d5), and can be

rapidly transferred from there to any other part of the board. But it is useless to put pieces in or near the center if they can be driven away, e.g., a

common blunder by raw beginners after 7. e4 e5 2./4 exf4 3. Nf3 is 3 ... Bc5? Then, of course, comes 4. d4 and Black must lose a clear tempo (move) in develop

ment. Being already behind White, he now has a position so bad that, between two masters, it would almost always mean defeat.

In the opening, all one can do is to push .fts forward into the center, which at any rate gives you a free run of the space behind them and prevents your opponent from getting too much central space himself.

Mere number of .fts in the center means nothing, however. Take these three positions.

1

2

3

In the first one, White has a central .ft majority of 2-0. In the second, he has numerical equality. In the third, he has a minority.

But the first position is as good for Black as for White, while the other two are to White's advantage.

There is a simple test: Have I files for my Rooks? If I have, I am sure to have freedom for

my other pieces as well. Applying this test to the first diagram,

we find that both sides have a fairly free game. Black will ultimately develop his .§ s on the c- and cl-files, where they will be

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His Writings

rather better placed than White's, since they have the offensive. White's center fts are targets.

In the second diagram Black has just been induced to play .. . exd4. This is called "giving up the center," and you can see this tells the story quite well. White has the run of one file up to d5, and he can also develop a !'! in the e-file without making it look absolutely silly. Black, however, has only one file on which a !'! could even pretend to be developed. All this confers on White a slight advantage (don't imagine that Black is necessarily lost) .

In the third diagram, White obviously has the freer game. Black would stand better if he were free to open up a file with . . . c5.

Now we come to the part where the books talk nonsense. What is the idea of the King's Gambit ( 7. e4 e5 2. f4), the Queen's Gambit ( 1. d4 d5 2. c4 ), the Center Game ( 1. e4 e5 2. d4), and the allied Scotch Game ( 1. e4 e5 2. Nj3 Nc6 3. d4)?

All these openings are characterized by:

( 1) the advance of one of the two center fts, followed by

(2) the advance of an adjacent jt .

The purpose of the adjacent jt is simply to produce the possibility of an exchange of its (not necessarily at once) . Thus provision is made at the outset for the opening or semi-opening of a file so that the t'!s may be developed.

Fundamentally different is such an opening as the Giuoco Pianissimo: 1. e4 e5 2. Nj3 Nc6 3. Bc4 Bc5 4. Nc3 Nf6.

Neither side can now advance either its d- it or f- jt two squares, so that the development of the �s will be long postponed. Thus, the "advantage" of the move tends to disappear.

In other words, the openings we looked at first are attempts to make something of

the advantage of the move. There are more subtle openings, such

as the Ruy Lopez, in which the push of the adjacent jt is held for a long time in reserve.

For beginners, perhaps the most telling point is this: if the possibility of development of t'!s plays such a big part in opening theory, how important it must be to develop the t'!s as soon as possible.

And yet in "simuls" one still meets such play as the following:

Mter 1. e4 e5 2. Nf3 Nc3 3. Bc4 (see diagram), a tyro will often tamely push 3 .. . h6?

He wants to play out his 4::1, and first stops Ng5. He doesn't realize that in retarding his development by one move he is doing more damage than his opponent could do to him by Ng5 (after 3 . .. Nf6).

As Ng5 is not yet threatened, he should simply develop his free A (at c5 or even e7), then move out his 4J to f6. And then if White is mad enough to waste time playing Ng5, which would retard his own development, Black can simply castle. This will completely protect his f- jt (for A and 4J are worth more than a !'! and jt while other pieces are on the board).

Interlude in the Center

The Editor, Dear Sir, Forgive me for being critical {We don't

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forgive, we thank.-Ed.). Re "Why A Pawn Center?" by CJ.S. Purdy.

Well, why a pawn center? No finer example than the game Tarrasch-Alekhine, Pistyan 1922, Blumenfield Countergambit, can be found to support the theory that there is something in a strong center other than the development of Rooks, which Mr. Purdy is so strong for. Since this game, no attempt has been made to accept the gambit. In the progress of that game Tarrasch had plenty of squares for his Rooks! I personally do not think it is a good way to introduce a series for novices, as the first article could be very controversial. Far better would it have been to state that "the object of a gambit is twofold" -in the first place, e.g., King's Gambit, it opens up the f-file, on which the h-Rook can be quickly developed {if accepted). In the second place, it offers the possibility, after elimination or exchange, of forming a STRONG CENTER, whereas in the Queen's Gambit, which after all is not a true or real gambit since Black cannot take and keep the pawn . . . (Our correspondent breaks off here, evidently leaving us to fill in the blank.-Ed.)

Even if the Giuoco Piano is fundamentally different (as Mr. Purdy continues), it can hardly be said that it is a good continuation, viewed in the light of modem chess conception. The move 3. Bc4

by White continues his development, to be sure, but does not advance his positionally indicated attack against Black's epawn. This, I think, explains why this opening has pretty well disappeared from tournament play. Whereas the Ruy Lopez does, as Mr. Purdy will be well aware.

So I would say that the approach in the article could very likely confuse the novice just as much as the weight ofliterature concerning pawn centers, and tend

to start him off on the wrong foot. I sincerely hope you will accept my

notes in the spirit offered. Yours faithfully, J. Hibbert.

Our answer to the last paragraph is contained in parenthesis in the first.

Mr. Hibbert's is more or less the voice of the orthodox student who has read a good deal about chess and is naturally inclined to rebel at having his icons shattered.

Let us deal first of all with the criticism which is merely a misunderstanding. Since this reader has misunderstood us, perhaps others have. By the way, students would do well to run through the article before proceeding-it is very short.

We were not writing on the relative merits of openings. We simply picked out the Giucco Pianissimo (both sides playing Bc4/c5, both .i£)s to f3/c6, and d3) as the opposite kind of opening to the King's or Queen's Gambit, since in it there is no early provision for developing �s.

It is interesting for average players to know why some openings are in fashion among the masters and some out of fashion, but such knowledge will not improve their own play. Any opening one is used to is a good opening.

Our Test The second criticism we answer is that

we began with something controversial. It may have been controversial, but we believe that we are right. We believe that we can best help beginners by simplifying the problem of the center down to the problem of developing �s. We said:

"There is a simple test (of whether a central position is favorable).

"Have I .files for my Rooks? "If I have, I am sure to have freedom

for my other pieces as well."

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His Writings

Our correspondent would like us to have said, "It offers the possibility . . . of forming a strong center . . . "

All right, what is a strong center? We don't know anything vaguer in chess. For a start, there is a general confusion between the terms "center" and "pawn center." The center, strictly speaking, is "the four squares which enclose the midpoint of the board, i.e., the squares e4, d4, e5, d5 for both sides" (Nimzovich, My System). A ft center I have never seen defined, but it is generally understood as consisting of one or more fts in the center, the enemy having no fi in the center, or he may have one if the "pawn center" contains two, e.g., after 1. e4 e6 2. d4 d5 White has, temporarily at least, a ft center (two versus one), and after 3. Nc3 dxe4 4. Nxe4 he still has a ft center (one versus zero), Black's "center pawn" being only on e6 and therefore not in the center proper. Rather confusing, we agree. On the other hand, after 3. exd5 exd5 we have equality of fts in the center, and it is not customary to speak of either side as having a .ft. center then.

The thoughtful beginner may ask, why should a ft center be strong? Why indeed? Quite often, it isn't strong.

Nimzovich Lashes Out As far back as 1913, in the Wiener

Schachzeitung, Aron Nimzovich was already attacking prevalent notions about the center. He then wrote:

If in a battle I seize a bit of debatable land with a handful of soldiers, without having done anything to prevent an enemy bombardment of the position, would it ever occur to me to speak of a conquest of the terrain in question? Obviously not. Then why should I do so in chess?

It dawns upon us then, that control of the center depends not on a mere occupa-

tion, i.e., placing of pawns, but rather on our general effectiveness there.

Here we interpose, how is that effectiveness to be measured? We have given a very simple test, which even beginners can apply intelligently. Namely, have we effective provision for developing �s?

For preference, the provision should be on central or near-central (c-, f-) files. To see this, play through again the correspondence game Purdy-Goldstein Uune 1948, Chess World). Here White allowed his opponent to double �s on the only open file, but it was the b-file, which had little bearing on the center. In an endgame, the �s would have been strong; in the middlegame, they were not.

Nimzovich went on to give several examples where one player had a ft center and yet his opponent had the better control of the center.

Again we quote Nimzovich:

''All this teaches us that by counting the heads of the pawns in the center, nothing, literally nothing, is gained."

Rescue from Chaos Again, then, comes the question, what

are we to substitute? Counting heads was easy for beginners. Are they now simply to be told, "That's bunk," and given no substitute? Our substitution is rough, but it is easy and will be found reliable, and the reason is always this: if the �s have scope in the center, the other pieces are sure to have.

Test for Our Test Now let us examine the game quoted

by our correspondent, Tarrasch-Alekhine, Pistyan 1922.

1. d4 Nf6 2. N£3 e6

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3. c4 c5 4. d5 b5 5. dxe6 fxe6 6. cxb5 d5 7. e3 Bd6 8. Nc3 0-0 9. Be2 Bb7

10. b3 Nbd7 1 1 . Bb2 Qe7 12. 0-0 Rad8 13. Qc2 e5 14. Rfe1 e4 15. Nd2 Ne5

On Wedges

Black has more than a .ft center now. Once a .ft gets into the enemy side of the center, it acts as a wedge; the wedge is doubly effective if on the square nearer the enemy castled 'i£7, i.e., on d5/d4 with enemy 'i£7 castled "i;¥-side, or e5/e4 with enemy 'i£7 castled 'i£7-side, as here. In general, the defender cannot afford to ignore it. Either he must undermine its support (which cannot be done here because White has no c- .ft left to attack the supporting cl- .ft) , or else he must challenge the outpost itself (with j3) or push past it lj4), a procedure which also weakens the outpost's effect.

Unfortunately for White, either 16. j3 or 16. f4 is too unsafe here, and that is why White has a losing game, e.g., 16. f4? exj3 e.p. 17. gxj3 Neg4!, a winning sacrifice. Or in this, 17. Bxj3 Neg4 and again the attack wins.

Before we leave the diagram, let me explain that the effectiveness of the wedge

is due to the well-developed pieces behind it. They are poised for a swoop. So don't start driving a wedge into Bill Brown's position next time you play him without having support ready. A wedge without proper support is easily broken up, and then the would-be attacker's position often collapses.

On the other hand, don't be scared. Here is an example of an early wedge that is quite good:

1. d4 Nf6 2. c4 d6 3. Nc3 e5 4. d5! Here the wedge can be further sup

ported by e4 (if 4 . . . Bf5, then 5. g3 and Bg2 first), and Black's undermining move, .. .j5, is obstructed by his 'i£7-{), while .. . c6will do nothing worse than open the c-file for both sides, White being left with the major share of the board.

The notion of wedges goes rather beyond the question of mere .ft centers. In a .ft center, the .ft or .fts merely guard important squares. A wedge, on the other hand, also acts as an obstruction. It tends to divide the enemy forces, i.e., it prevents them from crossing readily from wing to wing.

Having once got on to the subject of wedges, we give the rest of the game, with which Alekhine won a brilliancy prize, just as an example of the effect a wedge may have. Then we return to the part of the game which concerned the .ft center before it became a wedge.

One question? At what stage has White had "plenty of squares for his Rooks"? Not for one moment so far has White had an effective file available for a E\ . We had to mention this, as our correspondent makes such a point of it.

Now we finish the game: 16. Nd1 Nfg4 17. Bxg4 Nxg4 18. Nfl Qg5! 19. h3 Nh6 20. Kh1 Nf5 21. Nh2 d4!

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His Writings

22. Bel d3 23. Qc4t Kh8 24. Bb2 Ng3t! 25. Kgl Bd5 26. Qa4 Ne2t 27. Khl Rf7! 28. Qa6 h5! 29. b6 Ng3t 30. Kgl axb6 31. Qxb6 d2! 32. Rf1 Nxfl 33. Nxfl Be6!! 34. Khl Bxh3! 35. gxh3 Rf3 36. Ng3 h4! 37. Bf6 Qxf6 38. Nxe4 Rxh3t 39. Resigns

Were You Right? Now we return to the opening.

Tarrasch-Aiekhine

1. d4 Nf6 2. N£3 e6 3. c4 c5!? 4. d5!

The correct answer to Black's attempt to usurp the initiative. White seizes the chance of driving a wedge. This move would not have been good against, say, 3 .. . b6, because the wedge would have been too vulnerable. In general, the "wedge" move d5 is good only if the enemy has already challenged the d- ft with either . . . e5 or . . . c5. For example, 7. d4 c5 2. d5! Or 7. e4 e6 2. d4 c5? 3. d5! An exception is where d5 hits a piece, e.g., 1. d4 Nc6 2. d5!

4. • • • b5!? Blumenfeld Countergambit. A ft is

offered for the purpose of undermining the wedge.

5. dxe6 White, however, has no need to let

himself be sidetracked. Simply 5. Bg5!, making e4 possible, keeps his grip. Instead, White chooses to barter his grip for a ft . This idea, too, was entirely sound, though not commendable for players wishing to avoid difficulties.

Annotators commonly attribute players' defeats to moves which were not bad at all.

5. fxe6 6. cxb5 d5

According to orthodox notion, Black has what might be described as a "fearsome pawn center." Its main strength, however, lies in the fact that there is no open file on the board. White's problem is simply to open a file, preferably in or near the center, or at least to threaten to-nothing more than that. For this, it is quite obvious that White must somehow contrive to play e4. As Black can guard the key square with three units (by ... Bb 7), White must also get three units onto the square, or else play it as a ft sacrifice.

For this plan, a logical first move would have been 7. Nbd2. Alekhine suggested following that up with b3 and Bb2, delaying the challenge in the center.

7. e3! This, however, is also an excellent

move, probably the best. The trouble was that Tarrasch played it as part of a wrong plan.

7. Bd6 8. Nc3 0-0

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The Real Crisis

This was where Tarrasch made a mistake-in our opinion his only one! He played 9. Be2? He should have played 9. Bd3! for e4.

The objection-why play e3 first if e4 was the objective?-is superficial.

To have played e4 in one move would also have involved an interruption in development and would have meant returning the .ft , e.g., 7. Nbd2 Bb7 8. e4!? dxe4 9. Ng5 Qf-5!

The idea of e3 for Bd3 for e4 is well known to addicts of the Colle System.

In reply to 9. Bd3, Black could upset White's immediate intention (e4) with 9 . . . c4. No matter. That move itself makes Black vulnerable in a new place and renders e4 unnecessary. Mter 10. Be2 followed by castling, simply b3 forces open a file. And Black's . . . e5-e4 this time permits the .1£) to take the central square d4. If 9 .. . Bb7, then 70.Qs2 reinforces the threat of e4. True, Black can prevent e4 by . .. Ne4, but again this allows White to open a file (Bxe4, after castling) .

If (after 9. Bd3 Bb7 10. Qs2 as above) 10 .. . e5, 11. e4 d4 12. Nb1 with a solid position.

It is then the c-file which White's ,l'!s can use, bearing on the backward c- .ft . Black has a supported passed lt , but it is completely blockaded. Of course Black still has some compensation for his lt minus, but nothing like what he obtained in the

actual game. Finally, if 9 ... e5 ?, 10. Nxd5!

The Two Ways Home

Now there is surely no question that White should have played for e4.

The question is rather this: Is e4 aimed at Black's center .fts, or is it aimed at getting freedom for White's pieces, including his ,!'!s?

The answer is that both paths lead to the same place (e4).

Nimzovich would undoubtedly have stressed the idea that it was important to halt Black's "pawn roller"-see my article "Lopez Subtleties and Steamrollers." Black's three center is constitute a very powerful "roller" indeed. Note how it came on. First the three .fts abreast on c5, d5, eS. Then, later on, the two abreast on e4 and d4.

However, a center lt roller is rather a rarity. I wanted a general idea which would cover any closed kind of opening position at all.

My solution was this: Play your pawns in such a way as will give

freedom to your pieces. However, nearly every learner in try

ing to accomplish this would forget about his poor old ,!'!s. Even Tarrasch did that!

Instead, if the learner thinks always of his .!":( s, he will find good squares turning up for his other pieces anyway.

And even in the exceptional case of a central .ft roller, and a case difficult enough to baffle the great Tarrasch, I have shown, I hope, that thinking about t':(s would have sufficed to point the way to White's right general plan. Not necessarily 7. e3, 8. Nc3, and 9. Bd3 precisely, but the general idea of playing in some way for e4.

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His Writings

WHAT IS POSITION PLAY? I have long been conscious of a missing link in chess theory. Just what is position

play? Nimzovich rightly sneered at the old idea that every chess move was either "attack

ing" or "defensive." Well within the last quarter-century, this crude conception was still current. I well

remember a conversation I had as a schoolboy with the Yugo-Slav master, Boris Kostich, on his visit to Australia in 1924. It was his last night in Sydney, and I asked him whom he considered Australia's best player. "Viner," he said. Keeping up my bright chatter, I asked where Viner's special strength lay-in attack or defense? But he brushed these words aside. "He just seems," he said, "to have a better sense of position than the others" -and added hopefully a few minutes later, as he waved me into a tram, "Well, try and improve." I sensed vaguely then that the master and the amateur viewed chess from different planesas though the one were a bird and the other a fish.

I knew that Kostich, fluent though he was, could not have explained just what he meant by a "sense of position." Evidently, as soon as one became a strong player one automatically abandoned crude ideas without necessarily being able to put one's new ideas into words. One became more intuitive oneself without necessarily being able to explain chess to other people one whit the better. Vague phrases like "a sense of position" would serve well enough among masters to convey what they all felt in common-felt rather than knew.

The master thinks mostly in moves and is impatient of words. The amateur wants words, because moves fog him. He lacks the master's mechanical ease and skill. To reduce chess to words-that is a hard task. All the thousands of chess books have not quite accomplished it.

Steinitz, Nimzovich What is position play? Steinitz, seeing

that chess could not be reduced to the simple concepts of attack and defense, saw position play as the "accumulation of minute advantages."

Concerning this, Nimzovich wrote as follows in My System:

Another erroneous conception may be found among masters. Many of these and numbers of strong amateurs are under the impression that position play above all is concerned with the accumulation of small advantages, in order to

exploit them in the endgame .. . . We are inclined rather to assign to this plan of operation a very subordinate role ... . There are quite other matters to which the attention of the positional player must be directed, and which place this "accumulation" wholly in the shade.

What are these things, and in what do I see the idea of true position play? The answer is short and to the point: in a prophylactic . . . .

Position play . . . is an energetic and systematic application of prophylactic measures. What it is concerned with above all else is to blunt the edge of certain

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possibilities which in a positional sense would be undesirable. Of such possibilities, apart from the mishaps to which the less experienced player is exposed, there are two kinds only. One of these is the possibility of the opponent making a "freeing" pawn move.

What the other possibility is, Nimzovich never clearly tells us; but as he goes on to advocate the overprotection of strategically important points, one assumes that the second possibility is connected therewith. But it is not clear how the phrase "blunting the edge or' could be properly applied to this possibility.

Just here, then, Nimzovich's attempt to put position play into words breaks down.

A little further on, Nimzovich says:

In the last resort, position play is nothing other than a fight between mobility {of the pawn mass) on the one side and efforts to restrain this on the other. In this all-embracing struggle the intrinsically very important device of the prophylactic is merely a means to an end.

Even this idea of position play is not wide enough. It is one kind of position play rather than position play in general.

Going back over these quotations, note first of all that Nimzovich is not quite fair to Steinitz in limiting his purpose (in accumulating advantages) to the endgame. Sometimes the advantages might bear fruit earlier. On the other hand, Steinitz's conception is too narrow, if only because it excludes the player trying to improve an inferior position. The player is trying to lessen or eliminate disadvantages, or reduce enemy advantages, rather than to accumulate advantages. Yet he is playing positionallythat is quite certain.

Nimzovich's idea that position play

consists in prophylactic measures is also too narrow to cover position play in general. Take any game of chess: nearly all the moves will be positional, but there will be many of these which cannot be called "prophylactic measures" except by straining the language beyond all reason.

In any case, we are in a sorry state if we have to resort permanently to a metaphor to explain position play. Nimzovich had a fanciful mind, and, up to a point, his picturesque notions help the student to understand his ideas. They are all very well in a book, where the author can devote plenty of space to explaining his meaning. But for a current expression that will make sense even to players who have not read Nimzovich, we must abandon metaphor and seek some self-explanatory word or words in the same category as "attack" and "defense."

It must not be a word that is merely a substitute for "prophylactic." For, as we have seen, that idea is too narrow. But it should certainly be capable of including it.

The Solution

I believe I have found the solution. Try it out on every possible kind of position play, and you will find it satisfactory. This is it.

Position play is the treatment of positions in which sound attacking play is not possible, and purely defensive play is not necessary. It means either strengthening one's own position or weakening the enemy's.

"Strengthening" and "weakening" are the simple words that sum up position play. The word "weakening" is very familiar to all chess students. The words "strengthen" and "strengthening" are used very little, and they could be used more with advantage. The average player finds many moves in master games which he cannot understand; some of them, I am sure, would be clearer once the student got hold of the

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His Writings

general idea that the master was trying to strengthen his position.

In a note to one of his games with Boleslavsky, Botvinnik says, "White is trying to strengthen his position to the maximum." That, I maintain, is the comrnonsense idea at the back of positional play in general.

A military leader, at times when circumstances do not favor an attack, and, on the other hand, he is not compelled to concentrate on the defense of certain threatened points, still has plenty of things to keep him busy-improving lines of supply and communication, fortifying various points, and also planning air-raids and bombardments, not necessarily as preparation for a specific attack but simply to weaken the enemy generally. Even in Caesar we read such things as, "The Gauls have been driven back, our troops busied themselves in fortifying their camp."

When there is nothing you can accomplish by force and nothing you are forced to do, what logical course can you possibly follow except one of these two-to strengthen your position or weaken the enemy's?

And yet the average player is rarely guided by this simple idea. If he cannot force something, and is not himself forced to defend, he flounders about-looking, as likely as not, for some "trap" to set. If the opponent makes a certain silly reply, the result will be delightful; but it may be that some other reply will leave the trapper in a worse situation than before. Thus, the trappy move may have been positionally a bad one.

Position play, unlike combination, is not concerned with calculated lines of play-1 go there, he goes there, I go there, he goes there, and so forth. If your move is not forcing, i.e., if it is positional, that is the same as saying that the enemy has a fairly wide choice of reply. Therefore your move

must be of a sort that will serve you well in every possible eventuality. Developing moves in the opening are always of this kind.

How are we to select such a move? We cannot do it by calculation-except that we must, before playing any move, be sure we are not inadvertently giving the enemy the chance of a sound combinative reply. Apart from that, we must rely not on calculationbecause there would be far too much for any human brain to calculate-but on judgment and knowledge.

This is where the playing over of master games helps us particularly. They build up in us something of the intuitive judgment which guided the master we are following.

Emanuel Lasker

A writer who has said a great many valuable things about both combination and position play is Emanuel Lasker. Yet he seems to equate position play to the business of planning. Even if that were true, one would then ask, planning for what? But is it true? Plans are of course highly important in position play, as a rule, but not invariably necessary.

For instance, looking at a certain type of position, any strong player will quickly decide without making any plan that White should play h3 to make a "blow hole" for his '\t1. There is no specific threat, but the move will free the t:ls from the task of guarding the back rank. It is certainly a positional move, but no plan was necessary. The player has simply made the most strengthening possible move.

Lasker, speaking of the gaps in Steinitz's theory, writes:

Steinitz, after his advice to both the attacking and defending parties, does not speak of the strategy that a player should

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follow who feels that he is neither the attacker nor the defender. What plan has the player to follow in a balanced position? Of course, none with the immediate intention of winning, none which embodies the fear oflosing, none that would not develop the pieces-these answers to the query may be anticipated, but they are not decisive. I should say that besides all of the above he must play-to maintain the cooperation of his pieces.

one which it will pay him best to take advance measures against, say the enemy freeing move .. .j5. Not all positional moves are like that. For instance, most developing moves in the opening are rather a preparation for any kind of eventuality at all, either offensive or defensive. Certainly if we can pick out certain eventualities as specially important to provide against, our play will gain in precision; but it is not always possible to do this. But the point just now is that a "prophylactic" move is, in fact, one kind

This is not convincing. Some positional of strengthening move. operations in balanced positions do not fit Let it be clearly understood that I am

into the idea very well, e.g., the removal of not attempting to upset Nimzovich's cona .ft weakness in your own position or the ception, but only to fit it into a wider one. attempt to induce the enemy to advance a Following Nimzovich, a student might try ft and thus create a weakness. On the other to make every noncombinative move a "prohand, the simple concepts of strengthening phylactic," and become rather puzzled at and weakening will include these ideas and finding it not always possible to fit the idea Lasker's idea of maintaining cooperation of in. pieces as well. Moreover, the concepts of strengthening and weakening apply to superior and inferior positions as well as balanced ones. That is important, because the ordinary player is frequently uncertain as to whether his position is superior, equal, or

In Guide to Good Chess I said, "Position play is the art of improving your position in small ways when no sound combination is possible."

That is quite true. It does not contradict anything I have said here. But perhaps it lays emphasis rather on the strengthening of one's own position than on weakening the enemy's, whereas the emphasis should be equal. It depends purely on the circumstances of any particular position which of the two it is best to try to do. On the other hand, the proviso "when no sound combination is possible" is one always to be borne in mind. To make a positional move when a sound combination was possible is a serious lapse. One is then on a par with the tennis player who has the opportunity for an overhead kill and, instead, feebly puts the ball back into play. That sort of tennis, and that sort of chess, just doesn't make sense.

inferior, on the whole.

Back to Nimzovich

Returning to Nimzovich, let us see if "strengthening" includes Nimzovich's idea of"prophylactic" play. A prophylactic might be roughly defined as a drug or chemical aimed at combating this or that particular germ or virus which has not actually attacked the subject as yet. In other words, the subject is strengthening, in advance, his resistance to a possible attack of some particular kind. So it is a strengthening not for any eventuality, but for one kind of eventuality.

In chess this means that, from among the numerous possible eventualities, the player has selected that one or that kind of

It is axiomatic that position play is concerned only with small advantages and disadvantages. Big ones, naturally, occur

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only through forcing moves, i.e., combinations. But because the great majority of chess moves have to be positional, position play is, taken all round, of roughly the same importance as combination.

If we admit that position play means strengthening our position or weakening the enemy's, of course that does not enable us to find the best positional moves. No, but it must be a help to know what we should be trying to do.

THE SPIRIT OF

POSITION PLAY

This is a sequel to "What Is Position Play?" That is an important article, and I suggest going over it again.

The magazine presentation has this advantage over the book-that the author has the opportunity of making amendments as he goes along, whereas a book enshrines everything its author writes for all time. He may dearly wish to have changed something, but there's nothing he can do about it. An omission in my article has been pointed out by Mr. Edward Krisch of Cleveland, Ohio, and this has led me to nose out a still more important omission. Mr. Krisch, in an airmail of October 23rd, writes:

Dear Mr. Purdy: The August issue of Chess World is at

hand; I'm intrigued by your highly original article, "What is Position Play?" It is the only articulate thesis on the subject that I have ever read or even heard of.

Please don't judge me extremely presumptuous for suggesting that a third alternative is possible rather than simply two. Your rhetorical question on page 171-"What logical course can you possibly follow except one of these two-to strengthen your position or weaken your

enemy's?" I suggest a third: maintaining the sta

tus quo-thereby placing the enemy under compulsion to move. James Mason puts it neatly:

"Obliged to move, he will make that move by which his position is least modified or disturbed-will stand as he is, until he gets some idea of where he is going. When he can find no good way to better his situation, he will stop short of tryingand wait for light. This his adversary's very next move may furnish."

Psychological chess? Yes, and sound logical chess! Since neither of your two

logical courses covers the foregoing, is your solution 100% correct all of the time?

Yours truly, Edward Krisch

There is no argument. Mr. Krisch is quite correct. There are positions in chess which are unimprovable, and at the same time tenable-positions in which the best play for both sides is to maintain the status quo, and where if either party assumes the initiative he should suffer for it, although it may happen to be less risky for one than the other. Naturally it is a part of position play to judge such positions and to avoid activity that may compromise them. A draw is the result, unless one player is tempted into indiscretion.

In such cases, whoever has the slightly inferior position has the better winning chances! For instance, I owed my win against Bruno Strazdins in the 1949 New South Wales Championship to his having the preferable position at the adjournment. My only sound play was to move a ):'! up and down between f1 and f2, whereas he had a wide choice of moves-and the two �s-hut could not force an advantageous breakthrough. Naturally I offered a draw, but he was tempted into declining; and indeed, after

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the breakthrough he could still have drawn easily, but he pressed for a win, and lost.

Amended Definition

We are here dealing with situations in which one can neither strengthen one's own position nor weaken the enemy's, but in which it is possible to maintain the status quo. But there is a fourth and very frequently occurring possibility-that you are forced to weaken your position. Only rarely does this happen through zugzwang;it nearly always happens because of an enemy threat or capture. And yet your problem may not be one of pure defense, so that it can be said to belong to position play; examples will crop up. So I would amend my definition of position play thus:

Position play is the treatment of positions in which sound combinative play is not possible. It means strengthening one's own position or weakening the enemy's, or, if neither course is possible, a minimum weakening of your own position.

If the minimum is zero, we have the particular case instanced by Mr. Krisch.

While on the job, I have altered the first part, for I believe that the fundamental contrast is not so much between attack and defense on the one hand and position play on the other, but simply between combination play and position play. Attacking moves may be combinative or-as with the preliminary it advances to open lines-positional. Again, a player may utilize a combinative point in selecting a defense.

Thus, my new definition is more like my simpler one in Guide to Good Chess. "Position play is the art of improving your position in small ways when no sound combination is possible." Only, here again, we have the failure to allow for positions that must be weakened, and where the problem

is to weaken them as little as possible. "The principle of defense," says Emanuel Lasker somewhere, "is to make the smallest possible concession to the opponent."

In any event, it ought not to be possible to class every possible chess move as undeniably positional or undeniably combinative. Chess just isn't made that way, and whatever definition you gave, you would always find borderline cases.

An Illustrative Game At the end of my last article, I prom

ised to go through a game to illustrate how strengthening and weakening are the root ideas of position play. Now I keep that promise. As you go through, see if it would be possible to fit the moves into Steinitz's, Lasker's, or Nimzovich's definitions or descriptions of position play, and you will find that some would fit one or other of them all right, but that many would not. And yet the moves are positional. These great writers had in mind some aspects of position play rather than the whole of it. Probably it is impossible to arrive at any form of words which will fit every positional move like a glove. At one time it was thought that everything could be defined; now it is suspected that hardly anything can be defined, except those things which are themselves determined by definition, like a circle, a geometrical progression, etc. Position play is complex and probably not absolutely definable. But it should be possible to get near enough to it in words to assist players to get something of the real spirit of it, and that is all that my attempt claims to do.

Now here is the illustrative game, which was played in the sextangular quadrupleround tourney for the Absolute Championship of the U.S.S.R., 1941. I make use of the voluminous and excellent notes by Reuben Fine in Chess Marches On, and the also excellent notes by Botvinnik in Championship

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Chess. Yet I have an idea that even these two action is slightly limited by a threat. great annotators have not plumbed the game 3. Nd2 to its depths, and I doubt if it is possible to A very controversial move. Botvinnik do that with any highly positional game. would never be so foolish as to attempt to

Botvinnik-Boleslavsky French Defense

1. e4 e6 Are opening moves positional? Of

course. Very much so. For in the opening, very few moves are combinative. Is 7. e4 strengthening? Naturally, since it contributes towards the mobilization of White's at present imprisoned and therefore weak forces. Both Tarrasch and Nimzovich agreed that a cramped game was itself a weakness. I know that Breyer, the apostle of "hypermodemism" -an ironic word, for the school was outdated long ago, though it made valuable contributions-declared that after 1. e4 "White's game is in the throes," but this was a dramatic exaggeration of the kind to which pioneers in thought have to resort in order to force people to take notice of them, e.g., Bemard Shaw at one time. Objectively, Breyer's saying is nothing but an obvious untruth.

But for Black to answer 7. e4 with 7 . . . e5, while it may in fact be the most strengthening move, can be objected to on the grounds that it leaves the traditionally weak point f7 vulnerable-when it is considered that White has the first chance to attack it-and this is one of the arguments for 1 ... e6, the French Defense. It is often impossible to say that one move is better than another, but at least there is nothing about these moves to upset the idea that each side is trying to strengthen his position.

2. d4 d5 These moves play themselves, as they

obviously effect the maximum possible strengthening of both positions. Now we have a position where White's choice of

demonstrate that it is stronger than the obvious 3. Nc3, but the point is that at least a case can be made out for its being more strengthening-or, to put it another way, less weakening-than 3. Nc3. The question is whether .ft. position or quick development is the more important, for 3. Nd2 certainly hampers White's development.

3. . . . c5 The most aggressive possible move,

which virtually forces a disturbance of White's .ft. center, though not necessarily immediately. Black says, in effect, "White has deliberately slowed up his development (by obstructing a .Q.), so I can afford what I otherwise could not, an isolated center .ft. , in return for which I get a slight start in development."

4. exd5 Here White has the choice of strength

ening his own position (by 4. Ngf3) or weakening-or trying to weaken-his opponent's. In general the tendency of modem chess is to choose the latter where feasible; there is something attractive about a fixed weakness in an enemy position, and always the hope that the rather intangible compensation of a slightly better development may dwindle away. Nevertheless, 4. Ngf3is often preferred.

4 . . . . exd5! Here is a case where Black is forced to

weaken his position slightly, either by submitting to an isolated d- .ft. or (by 4 .. . Q::d5) making his � a target, which will enable White not only to catch up to Black in development but to overtake him. You'll find that after a few more moves White is 1 - 1/2 tempi ahead, and the .ft. Black can win is regained without trouble.

It is clearly not logical to accept such a

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disadvantage without compensation merely to avoid "complications." This way of handling the black pieces-"inferiority complex" -does not pay in the long run, though Fine sanctions 4 . . . Q§d5. In the wide sense, backwardness in development must certainly be classed as a weakness.

5. Bb5t Having opened the e-file, naturally the

first consideration of both sides is quick castling. Hence this check is very logical, as it moves a 'it'-side piece and prevents Black from doing likewise. Thus it has a slightly weakening effect on the opponent and fulfills the requirements of sound position play.

5. . . . Nc6 A self-pin, but only temporary, and

based on the idea that the white ,il itself is not ideally placed at b5. The alternative 5 . . . Bd7, though preferred by Fine, is another example of the "inferiority complex" policy with the black pieces. The text move is more optimistic, and, in a sense, therefore more logical! Nimzovich says: "In chess in the last resort optimism is decisive. I mean by this that it is psychologically valuable to develop to the greatest length the faculty of being able to rejoice over small advantages."

Thus, Black is sorry that White has gained in the race to castle, but can secretly chortle over having induced White to place a piece on the square where it is unlikely to remain useful permanently.

6. Ngf3

A very subtle positional problem here!

Whether it is worth a tempo to avoid an "isolated d-pawn" by 6.. . c4. There is a strong note in M. C. 0. in which two variations are given after 6.. . c4 Z 0-0, one in which White is credited with a slight advantage and the other with only equality, although in the second one Black is a tempo behind the first one! Obviously, one of the verdicts is wrong, and the consensus seems to be that it's the second-in other words, after 6 .. . c4 White's position is slightly preferred by leading practicians.

6. . . . Bd6 It is characteristic of the Russian mas

ters to eschew a move that slows up development -for instance, 3. Nd2 is not typically Russian at all. Apart from 6 . . . c4, the text is the only move. For Black must be ready to cope with Re 1, so that . . . Ne 7 is indicated, but naturally the � must emerge first. This is where calculation of actual moves is necessary. White's threat of castling and then checking takes precedence over other considerations.

The superiority of 6 . . . Bd6 over 6 .. . c4 is deducible only from a very precise appraisal of the position after the "isolated d-pawn" is isolated, so let us go on to that.

7. dxc5 Overanxiety to isolate Black's d- ft

might have induced an amateur to play dxc5 before Black had moved his 'it'-.il. That, of course, would have lost a clear tempo, and Black's game would be appreciably easier than now-indeed, thoroughly comfortable.

7. . . . Bxc5 8. 0-0 Nge7

The eighth moves on both sides are obviously the most strengthening possible. Like 2. d4 d5, they shriek to be played. But, apart from forestalling Re 1 f, the development of Black's JLJ/e7 has an important bearing on the "isolated d-pawn" question, which I doubt if one player in a hundred

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His Writings

has ever realized. We'll come to that. 9. Nb3

Of course-assisting White's development while retarding Black's-Black having to move the .Q. again. Not necessarily, someone might say: Black could develop his Y!f and protect the .Q.. But time would still be lost, as Be3 would afterwards hit the YJ/.

9. • • • Bb6

Besides, when both players have both their Bishops in a fairly open game, it is usually well worth a tempo to preserve one from exchange by a Knight

10. Be3 One of the most surprising positional

experiments in modem chess. The routine positional play against an "isolated d-pawn" is the establishment of a .:i)-assuming you have one-on the blockade square d4, so that here one would expect 10. c3 or perhaps 10. h3, first eradicating the possibility of a pin, since the �-4.) is wanted for the support of his fellow on d4. The question is whether such a blockade is maintainable here, e.g., 10. h3 0-0 11. Nbd4 Bd7 12. Be3 (what better?) Nj5!

You'll observe that White's plan tends to break down because Black can get too many pieces onto the command of the key square, d4. Hence the virtue of ... NeZ Botvinnik's move is to remedy this right at the start. Neither Botvinnik himself nor Fine gives a very coherent positional explana-

tion of the move. Fine says that White "is going to set up a majority of pawns on the Queen-side." Botvinnik says that the move "enables White to provoke the exchange of the black Bishop, after which Black has a weak d4-square."

The real point is that White, having decided that a quieter attempt to control d4 is not quite satisfactory (see the analysis above), is prepared to purchase that control at the price of submitting to an isolated ft himself.

It would be a great mistake to laud the idea to the skies just because Botvinnik won the game. In positional matters, common sense reigns, and common sense indicated that Botvinnik's idea is-just an idea. White gets a grip on the dark squares, but his weak e- ft should balance it; let people analyze and analyze as they like-if you just hold on to simple realities like this, you need not fear shadows. Fine suggests that Black might more safely have castled instead of exchanging As. However, if Black cannot afford 10 . . . Bxe3 here, there is something wrong with chess! That is quite a satisfactory way to reason in many situations, and often saves wasting time on vain cogitations.

10. . . . Bxe3 11. fxe3

Fine passes this move over, as Botvinnik himself did when first annotating the game for Chess in the U.S.S.R. But in Championship Chess, Botvinnik points out that by playing this way he obtained "no tangible advantage whatever" (p. 107), and that the better play was 11. Bxc6f first, which he played against Boleslavsky later on. Botvinnik also won that game, but for the sake of substantiating the commonsense theory that the game is even, I will digress and suggest a method by which Boleslavsky might, it appears, have equalized. The game in question went: 11. Bxc6t bxc6 12. fxe3 0-0 13.

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After 14. Qc3 in the other game

This 14 .. . RhB is passed by Botvinnik without criticism. It delays Nc5 but only temporarily, and after 15. Rab l Re8 76. Nc5 (which Botvinnik did not play but says he ought to have), it is a slight but appreciable handicap to Black that his A has to keep on its original diagonal to stop the fork by NdZ Worse still, Black is unable effectively to answer White's b4with .. . a5, as he can if he leaves the Y!J-)':! on its original file. Therefore, try simple development in the diagram by 14 .. . Bj5 15. Nc5 Rfd8 16. Nd4 Bg6. Once Black's "bad" .Q. becomes a "good" A, like this, White has no further claim to superiority. One feels sure that Botvinnik himself would have no objection to taking the Black side. Furthermore, tournament players sometimes deliberately avoid pointing out a player's first error (like 14 .. . RhB here), preferring to hoard up the secret for personal use. Chess in Russia must be hard enough without telling your opponents all you know.

To sum up, we have a case of a positional struggle. One position is not substantially better than the other: it is rather a question of which can make the most of the good points of his own position and the bad points of his opponent's. This was so even in the second game referred to above, and still moreso in the present game.

11. . .. 0-0

12. Qd2 Pointless now is 12. Bxc6because of the

simple reply .. . Nxc6 (previously answerable by the pin Re1, recapturing the .Q./e3 with the � ) . That's a tactical point. Anything that belongs to calculation of specific forced play-feasible when simple forcing captures, checks, or threats are involved-is tactics. You cannot get away from tactics.

White's grip on d4 is absolutely firm, and he can attend to development.

12. . . . Qb6 Once again, a move that shrieks-de

veloping while hampering White's development by a threat.

13. a4 Bf5 The excellent move which Boleslavsky

made impossible for himself in the subsequent game through his ill-considered 14 . . . RhB already dealt with.

Boleslavsky "Simplifies" 14. Nfd4 Nxd4

Players often make doubtful moves in the interests of "simplification." To remove an opponent's weakness is as bad as giving yourself one. Botvinnik calls the move "a positional mistake increasing White's superiority." Fine says 14 .. . Be4 was "far better." We fear that students often get wrong impressions because writers use condemnatory words about errors that are really extremely slight. If we weigh up 14 ... Nxd4, we find two "pros": if White retakes with the .ft , he can no longer occupy the "blockade" square d4 with a piece, nor can the isolated d- .ft ever be attacked frontally; in other words, the "isolated d-pawn" becomes much less weak; secondly, Black saves time by not having to move his A again. But there are also two "cons": White's own weakness is entirely eliminated; secondly, White's remaining 4) gets a fine post at c5. All in all, a small net gain to White.

Besides 14 .. . Be4, after which Botvin-

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nik admits the game would be "almost even," there is 14 .. . Bg6. If 15. aS, .. . QJ7 16. a6 Ne5 and the weaknesses on both sides balance.

15. exd4

Capablanca coined an instructive term which is well worth remembering when dealing with ft positions. In this game, before 14 ... Nxd4, he would have said that each side had three "pawn islands," i.e., three different groups of fts. The middle "islands" consisted, of course, of only one ft each. Now, after 74 .. . Nxd4 15. exd4, Black still has three islands but White has only two, as the middle island, the e- ft , joins up with the western island (now consisting of four united fts). It is good to have two islands for winning purposes, as a single island is drawish, but three are a liability: their proprietor is vulnerable in three quarters.

15 . . . . Rac8 When first annotating the game Bot

vinnik suggested 75 .. . Qg6, but Fine considers that White retains a clear superiority after 76. Rf2! Be4 (Botvinnik's idea) 7Z Nc5 Rac8 18. c3. In Championship Chess, Botvinnik passes over 15 .. . Rac8 without adverse comment. Yet I believe this was a crisis. Boleslavsky's previous move has made his game difficult, but that only means that it is easy to drift into disadvantage, not that disadvantage is inevitable.

I suggest that the diagrammed position illustrates rather well a dictum in Guide to Good Chess which a grateful reader rang me

up about, chortling gleefully that it had enabled him to win an important game. This was it.

"Where there is a completely open file, and only one, it is no use trying to sidestep it. The game must be decided on it, whether you like it or not."

Of course, as with all generalizations in chess, you could easily concoct a queer position in which it would not apply, but it will be found reliable as a guide. It enables you frequently to shear through complications and arrive at the simplest and best plan.

Here, in order to occupy the e-file Black must evict the -'l. So, try 15 ... a6. This is slightly weakening, certainly, but not nearly as weakening as conceding the open file to the enemy. Fortunately, there is a very simple proof that 75 .. . a6 was better than the text play, without going into a maelstrom of analysis: simply that Black did play . . . a6 next move, when, as we shall see, it was obviously less effective. However, just as an illustrative line, look at 75 .. . a6 16. Bd3 (if White tries Re7 as in the game, simply . .. axb5 7Z Rxe7 bxa4 in reply, and if then 18. Nc5, .. . Qg6 with a relatively easy game) Bxd3 7Z Q!:d3 Nc6. Now let White play his most aggressive move, 18. Nc5, and suppose Black, avoiding all risks, simply plays for a safe position, 78 .. . Rfe8 19. Qf3 Re7 20. c3 (if Q!:d5, .. . Rd8) Rae8 (doubling on the open file) 21. b4 Q!-8. Despite White's initiative on the i!Y-side, you will find he can never do anything serious in the face of Black's command of the open file in the center.

That Black has other playable lines after 15 .. . a6 shows that his game has eased.

16. Nc5 a6 This no longer accomplishes the ob

jective aimed at. As so often in chess, Black finds that his interpolation of quite a natural developing move ( . . . Rac8) has marred his

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chances. Capablanca tells us to "bring out our pieces as fast as possible and put them in the right places." Well, you'll find that as development advances, the rapidity becomes slightly less important, and selecting the right places becomes slightly more important. Black has developed a !! , but has got no nearer to placing a !! in the right place, the central open file.

17. Rae1 Played when Black can neither move

the 4) or protect it by ... Rfe8, taking the open file. And of course .. . axb5 is no longer playable now that the white 4) has moved. Thus Black must cede the open file entirely.

Is Boleslavsky's game still tenable, or can Botvinnik push through to victory?

My opinion is that White now has sufficient pressure to assure a win; for this I blame Black's 15th move, ... Rac8.

Summing up positionally-wait a minute, before you can sum up any position "positionally" you must first examine any forceful continuations: captures, checks, and other direct threats. Otherwise you will probably be wasting time. But here we can quickly see that 7Z .. axb51eads to disadvantage ( 78. Rxe7, and if 78 . . . Rxc5, 79. dxc5 Q3c5f 20. Qs3), and all other violent moves can be dismissed quite quickly as unsound. That means we can treat the position as a quiet, static one where positional pros and cons can be weighed up.

All right, what's the first great point? That White holds the open file (e-file). Add

to that, White's pieces in general, other than his en prise .Q., are better posted than Black's, especially White's 4) ; also, White has obvious pressure-the black 4) is tied to the defense of a .Q. -and finally, White's .ft. position is superior because White has only two "pawn islands" while Black is burdened with three. Against all these small inferiorities, Black can show no compensating superiority anywhere. All he can do is to make a strenuous resistance and hope White will commit a slight inexactitude somewherewhich White does, in fact, even though he is Botvinnik.

17. . . . Rc7 18. Bd3

Here Botvinnik devoted much calculation to 78. Bd7, finally discarding it. This gets right into tactics-combination. The ordinary player is well advised to save time on his clock by quickly playing the move that must be good, rather than one which leads to no clear gain and requires much calculation even to show that it is not disadvantageous-advice easier to give than take! Of course the exchange of .Q.s unties the black 4), but that cannot be helped; clearly 78. Be2 is not very good.

18. Bxd3 19. (txd3 (td6

� � �� m�t��f?A�t··· ' '�'ta�t� � � � � ·� �;Jf��;� ��-- �-�� Wi� :.»;;� Wi� � � �et� � �-�ft� �ft�-� <� ��ZA Y�<

" � ,, ,�� This has two worthy positional aims: (a) to evict the white 4) from its strong

post by .. . b6 ( . . . a5 first) ; (b) to create a possibility, at any rate, of

challenging the open file by ... Re7 after

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moving the �. No need to fear the "fixing" move 20. a5, as that would be absolutely refuted by . . . Nc6.

As this article is on position play, we shall not go into the complications of 19 .. . 0Jb2. Suffice it to say that you'd expect it to be too risky, and it is. A ft is too small a compensation for such insecurity.

20. c3

Example of a purely strengthening move not necessarily a part of a specific plan. It secures both the d- and c-pawn, and thus makes White's pieces freer generally. If permitted, White may follow with a5 to establish the Knight firmly, thus strengthening himself still further.

20. . . . a5 White is now going to be forced to

move his �' it seems. He must provide a good square for it.

21. Qf3! An example of combination interwo

ven with position play. Not only is . . . b6 delayed, but Ne6! is an immediate threat. How would one most easily get onto this possibility? I still think the most reliable method is to run quickly through all the aggressive moves on the board, no matter how absurd. Thus you would be forced to look at Ne6, from which it would be no great step to think of Qf3.

21 . . . . Ng6 This certainly seems more strength

ening than . .. Nc6, as it helps to protect the castled t:3l and also guards both eS and f4 from White's �.

22. Re3 b6 The 4) 's reign is ended. But now White

retains his major advantage, control of the only open file. That is traditionally decisive.

23. Nd3 Rd7 If . . . Re7, 24. Rxe7 Nxe7 25. Re1 and

White regains complete control of the file.

What now? Of course White's position is much too strong for him to consider such absurd woodshifting as 25. Ra 1 ?to save the threatened ft . But I think most players would content themselves with the simple line 25. Ne5 Nxe5 26. Rxe5 f6 2Z Re6, getting ft for ft and remaining with a substantial, but not crushing, positional advantage. You must not expect an article to tell you how to play quite as well as Botvinnik.

25. g3!! Rd6 If 25 ... 0Ja4, 26. h4 RfdB 2Z h5 NfB 28.

h6! is the idea. Botvinnik, refraining from exaggeration-as we wish all chess writers would-says it would then be "difficult for Black to defend the many weak spots in his position." All in all, the ft sacrifice seems to give better winning chances than the more conservative line indicated above. This is a case of weakening White's t:3l in order to weaken Black's more-positionally quite sound.

26. h4 f6 27. Qf5!

Positional again. Instead of playing at once h5, White first strengthens his position; either Black will now accept the ft , and then the attack will come in more strongly, or else the threat to the ft will end, giving White a peacefully advantageous endgame. However, the immediate h5 was also good.

27. 28. Qxc8

Qc8 Rxc8

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29. h5 Nf8 White is happier with the ¥11s off, be

cause now the exposure of his own � matters very little.

30. Re7 Rcd8 To prevent the horror of two enemy

�s on the seventh rank. 31. Nf4 R8d7

32. g4 Here Botvinnik's splendid positional

intuition deserts him temporarily. He points out that 32. Kf2 was better. And note its much more consolidating, coordinating-in short, strengthening-effect. The text move gives his forces a dangerously separated look. With Kf2, everything would be linked.

32. Flxe7 33. Flxe7 g5! 34. hxg6

And here a rather serious error, as Botvinnik admits. He should have kept the 4:)s on with 34. Ng2.

Endings with Rook and piece versus Rook and piece are slightly more winnable than Rook versus Rook, because there are such possibilities of coordination of pieces.

In � versus � , the cooperation of � and � is often ruled out because a too venturesome advance by either � permits a marauding raid by the enemy � . An additional 4:), however, may guard a vital square and permit the coordination of all three pieces.

After 34. Ng2, say .. . Re6. Then 35. Rh7, and if 35 .. . Re4 36. Rxb6 Rxg4, White would win because his majority of .ft.s is on the wing remote from the enemy �.

From here we are decidedly in the realm of endgame technique. That's still position play, it's true, but � endings are a special field. I could continue to discuss the moves from the strengthening and weakening aspect, but the article is already long enough. For a real understanding of � endings without too much labor, I recommend Part Ill of Guide to Good Chess-this is a genuine tip, not an advertisement.

However, I hate half-finished games, and I think most players are the same, so I give the rest fairly briefly.

34. Nxg6 35. Nxg6 hxg6 36. Rb7

Black had a specific drawing threat, . . . b5!

36. Kf8 37. Kf2 Ke8 38. Ke3

38. . . . g5 Fine says that the entry of White's � at

f4 would otherwise be decisive. But Botvinnik-or rather his translator-tautologically dubs the text move "an unnecessary waste of time" and says Black should have played 38 .. . Kd8, which he implies would have given good chances of a draw. If then 39. Kf4, presumably .. . Re6, and if 40. Rg7, ... Re4f 41. Kf3 g5 42. Rh7 (or 42. Rj7) Re6, and now

- 1 50 -

His Writings

the white '1/ is held on the wrong side for winning purposes.

39. Kd3 40. b4 41. cxb4 42. a5

Re6 axb4 Kd8 Kc8

The trouble with ... bxa5 is that White can afterwards attack the d- ft by Rb5. It might have been the smaller evil. Had Black not lost a tempo on Move 38, he could have driven the � from the b-file first, and then a5 could have been answered with .. . bxa5 safely.

43. a6 44. Rxb5 45. Rxd5 46. Rc5t 47. d5

b5 Rxa6 Ral Kb7 Rfl

48. Rc4 f5?? The game ends with a curious blunder

which Boleslavsky "prepared" during adjournment analysis, reckoning on 49. gxj5 Rxj5 with a probable draw. However, White should win anyway, e.g., if 48 . . . Rg1, 49. Rd4.

49. Ke2 Resigns

Summary Well, that was an exceptionally posi

tional game, i.e., there were few, if any, combinative moves. Actually, both players certainly calculated out numerous combinative variations before discarding certain moves that we have barely touched on. So, just because we have discussed the game as an illustration of our ideas on position play, don't imagine that anybody can play good chess by principles alone. Combinations must be watched-for and against-at every turn. Don't forget, I mean little combina-

tions, not deep "brilliancies." People persist in misunderstanding me on this point.

How did my definition of position play stand up to the strain? Any form of words will come up against trouble in chess, and all I claim is that my definition comes up against less trouble than any other yet attempted. I am sure those simple notions of strengthening and weakening are fundamental, and will help many players in complex situations.

Run over the various crises: 1. With the surprising 10. Be3, Botvin

nik purchased, as it were, some strength at the cost of some weakness, i.e., he gained control ofthe dark squares (and the f-file) at the cost of isolating his e- ft .

2. On Move 14, Boleslavsky made a slight error with 14 ... Nxd4. This exchange did strengthen his own position a little, but, on the whole, it strengthened his opponent's a little more.

3. On Move 15, Boleslavsky missed a way of strengthening his position by securing the single open file-always vital. In the sequel, Botvinnik won by dominating that file.

4. After forcing a winnable endgame, Botvinnik, on Move 32, failed for once to play the strengthening move, and a following error of endgame technique (Move 34) gave Boleslavsky good drawing chances, which he let slip by the single error on Move 38.

The chess was of an accuracy rarely excelled. Any famous chess struggle turns out to contain mistakes on both sides when annotated as searchingly as this game has been.

- 1 5 1 --


AN AMAZING LESSON ON THE CENTER Nimzovich in My System lays some stress on the fallacy of counting .ft.s in the center

to see who stands better there, but in actual practice we so often see a preponderance of .ft.s in the center doing well for the possessor that Nimzovich's wisdom gets blunted in our minds, and we are ready to fall into error. Perhaps everyone ought to brush up My System every few years, but even in Nimzovich's own book you will find nothing to bring the truth home to you as sharply as the really wonderful game I hereby introduce.

It was played in the world correspondence championship between the present leader, Dr. Mario Napolitano, and the player who started as favorite, Dr. Edmund Adam. It was Napolitano's only loss.

These two are colossi of the correspondence chess-playing world. Dr. Adam won the correspondence championship of Europe when it was last held-before the war. Dr. Napolitano crushingly won his section in the current world championship, the same section in which international master Barcza only notched three draws in six games.

The winner's play has all the polish, precision, and depth that the best correspondence play should have.

The comments are ours, but we have the benefit of Dr. Adam's own notes from Caissa.

Napolitano (ltaly)Adam (Germany)

Sicilian Defense (in effect)

1. Nt3 c5 2. c4 Nf6 3. b4

Napolitano's opening play is rich in ideas, and in this tournament they have paid good dividends; this is his only defeat so far. Here Napolitano aims at a Wing Gambit in which his c- .ft. will be already at c4, helping him to command the center. Only by extraordinarily deep play-virtually impossible over the board-does Adam refute the idea.

3. 4. d4 5. cxd5

cxb4 d5! Nxd5!

Subtly stronger than 5. .. Qfd5, which White probably expected. White then continues with 6. Nbd2 and e4, afterwards play-

ing his �-,il strongly to c4. It is that last move that Black is concerned to prevent; it would just make all the difference to White's �-side attack. White's next move makes the game essentially a "Sicilian."

6. e4 Nb6! Black's �-side is weakened in a sense

by the 4:)'s flight, but White's attack is also weakened: (a) for the reason mentioned; (b) because White's e- .ft. will not have a 4:) to hit if it ever goes to e5.

7. d5 Apparently very cramping, as it virtu

ally prevents 7. .. e6 (8. Bb5f Bd7 9. dxe6! with a powerful attacking position). White's game could easily become overwhelming against routine play.

7. • • • e5!! This deeply thought-out return of the

.ft. looks almost suicidal by old-fashioned standards because of the huge preponderance of .ft.s granted to White in the center.

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His Writings

8. Nxe5 9. Bb5t

Bd6 N8d7

Not ... Bd7, presenting White with "the two Bishops" ( 10. Nxd7).

10. Nd3 0-0 11 . 0-0 f5!

Black must do this before White plays f4 himself with steamroller effect. Remember .. .j5 as the normal anti-roller move.

12. Bf4 A sad renunciation. White dreamed of

Bb2, but if 12. j3 to prepare that, . . . Q!t4!

Ne6.

12. . . . Qc7 If 12 .. . Bxf4, the recapture threatens

13. Bxd6 14. f3

Qxd6 a6

Having immobilized White's centerthe chief need-Black now forces White to develop Black's pieces for him.

If 15. Ba4?, Black wins the h- ft by an obvious sequence.

15. Bxd7 16. Nd2

Bxd7 Rac8

Perhaps you'll admit without dispute that Black has the advantage, but how do you account for it? If you say he has it in spite of White's "strong center," you land in a complete morass. No, the truth is that Black is stronger in the center than White, though he has no fts there to White's two. Indeed, if one of Black's fts were in the center, say on e5 or d6, Black would not stand quite so well. Complete absence of fts in the center sometimes makes for great

freedom of movement, always provided that if the enemy has fts there they can be absolutely fixed, like White's here.

Let us turn now to Nimzovich's My System, p. 160.

It dawns upon us then, that control of the center depends not on a mere occupation, i.e., placing of pawns, but rather on our general effectiveness there ... . Certainly pawns, as being the most stable, are best suited to building a center. Nevertheless, centrally posted pieces can perfectly well take their place.

Obstruction! that is the dark side of occupation of the center by pawns. A pawn is by nature, by his stability, his, so to speak, conservative spirit, a good center building, but alas, he is also an obstruction.

Here, a different piece setup could easily make White's game superior. If instead of one of his �s he had a dark-squared �

' his deplorable weakness on the dark squares would vanish. Yet note also that if Black's � itself were on dark squares instead of light, his game would be even better than it is. And yet his light-squared � is far from "bad," despite the white fts, because it can get an excellent diagonal by going behind them, as it were, with . . . Bb5.

It is the fixity of White's fts that is his trouble. Of course, as the board is now, a phalanx ( fts abreast) could not be maintained, but one can see now that White made an error in voluntarily breaking the phalanx he once had; his Z d5 was wrong, even if there was but one way, and a very surprising way, to refute it.

17. Re1 fxe4 Well-timed, now the )"! has left that

file. It did so to forestall the pin, ... Bb5. 18. fxe4 Na4 19. Nfl Qb6t

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20. Khl Forced; if Ne3, .. .Nc3 wins the e- ft . 20. • • • Qd4!

This move is curiously decisive. It proves that White must have had some more resistant 19th move, but there was probably nothing to save him permanently. Black now has two threats: firstly . . . Bb5 winning a piece(!) because the 4J has no escape, and the support Re3 would be a broken reed because of . .. Rxflf; secondly, . . . Nc3 winning the e- ft . White is reduced to a desperate throw.

21. d6 22. Qb3t 23. e5

Nc3! Kh8

Black would refute 23. Nxb4 by 23 ... Nxe4!Philidor' s Legacy, which is then threatened starting with . . . Nf2 f, cannot be stopped by 24. Rxe4, since then 24... fJ!a 1 wins,

-

while 24. h3 would lose after . . . Rc3! (E.A.) [Ed. Note: But first 24 . . . Nj2f 25. Kh2 as if 24 . . . Rc3, then 25. Rxe4 fJ!e4 (25 . . . Rxh3f 26. fJ!h3 fJ!a1 27. fJ!d7 Rxf!f 28. Kh2 Rhlf 29. Kg3 Qs3f 30. Kf2 and nothing happens) 26. fJ!c3}.

23 . • . . 24. e6

Qxd3 Rce8!

If now exd7?, it's soon mate. And if 25. Rd1, ... Nxd1 26. fJ!d3 Nj2fregaining the ¥tl with overwhelming interest.

25. Ng3 Qd2! Threat . . . Bc6. If 26. Rad1 Nxd1 27. Rxd1,

the reply is 27. .. Rxe6!Everything dovetails. 26. Resigns.

Kmoch calls the game "a dream of the Sicilian." Dr. Adam's other results in this event have not done him justice. A bout of ill health affected him, and he was a little too daring in a few of his openings.

- 1 54 -

His Writings

MORE ABOUT PAWN CENTERS The books generally tend to exaggerate the value of a .ft. center as such. If a .ft. center

really hampers the enemy pieces, it is advantageous; otherwise not. Things that count against a .ft. center are: (a) ample maneuvering space for enemy pieces, even though on a wing; (b) a completely open file, which at any rate means freedom for � s; and (c) exchanges of pieces, especially minor pieces. Real control of the center is always advantageous, e.g., 4':)s posted there and not vulnerable to .ft. s. But a .ft. center does not always guarantee such control; all one can say is that it usually helps.

Much of the talk about "attacking the center" or "challenging in the center" is claptrap, in the sense that the main motive of such moves in the opening (e.g., . . . c5, very often) is not understood; it is simply to make provision for developing .§s. If .§s can develop otherwise, such moves are often unnecessary.

This 70-mover from the Australian Correspondence Championship further illustrates how the value of a .ft. center can be almost nullified. As a game, its length is excused by its sheer excellence. Rarely does one see a 70-mover entirely free from obvious errors.

K. Ozols-H. Klass Catalan Opening (in effect)

1. c4 Nf6 2. g3 e6 3. Bg2 d5 4. Nf3 dxc4

A move that forces the opponent's Yf1 out is seldom bad. Watch how this little disability always mars White's position a little. This is not to say that White's game is inferior-just that there is "a little rift within the lute" to give Black consolation in a rather backward position.

5. Qa4t Bd7 6. Qxc4 Nc6

An idea favored by the American Master Kevitz-in place of the usual . . . Bc6. With "crude development," Black may have better chances of harrying White's exposed YfJ.

7. d4 Making it a "Catalan" (constituted by

the moves d4, c4, and g3, etc.) . 7. . . . Be7

8. a3 b5! The crisis. If Black permitted b4 with

out a blow, White's command of space in the center and one wing, taken together, might give White a decisive advantage. Instead, Black himself takes the initiative on the Yfy-side. If 9. Q3b5, ... Nxd4 10. Qs4 Bc6! and Black has sufficient freedom.

9. Qd3 b4! Black is now saddled with the respon

sibility of playing for . . . c5 to eliminate a weakness that might be fatal. But he knows he can enforce it. Meanwhile, he has gained his objective-namely space, terrain, or fresh air, a frequent strategical motif in top-line chess.

10. a4 Rc8 The first step. Incidentally, Black in

vites 77. Qg6?, when . . . NbB would be a sound .ft. offer. [Ed. Note: Purdy is referring to 12. Q3a7 c5!}

1 1. Nbd2 12. b3 13. Bb2

Na5 c5 Bc6

- 1 55 -


14. 0-0 0-0 15. Racl Qb6 16. e4 Rfd8

As yet White's ft center consists of the e- ft only, since the d- ft can be liquidated whenever Black chooses. And the e- ft , though it does a vital job in guarding d5, is a target for pieces. White can seek only to hold the position. Black has the initiative. Note that conditions (a) and (b) are both satisfied-inasmuch as the c-file can be opened any time either side chooses. The one thing favoring a ft center is that all the pieces remain on the board.

17. Rfd1 Bb7 18. h3 h6

White's h3 was on compulsion. White must move his ¥/1, and wishes to continue defending the b- .ft. to avoid tying his <tl. Black's . .. h6 was a far-sighted provision of sanctuary for his � against check on the back rank, made at a moment when the time factor is not vital-White being unable to do anything much.

19. Qe3 Ba6! 20. Rc2 c4!

This leaves White in undisputed possession of the ideal ft center ( .ft.s on e4 and d4), but Black gains a passed ft on the ¥11-side and additional maneuvering space there; also, he forces some exchanges. The remote passed .ft. of course is the main factor.

21. bxc4 22. Nxc4 23. Rxc4 24. Rc1 25. Nd2 26. Nb3 27. Qxcl 28. f3! 29. Kh2 30. Nxa5!

Nxc4 Rxc4 Bxc4 Ba6 Rc8 Rxclt Bb7 a5 Bc6!

A resource not available had White played Qs3 on Move 28 to protect his e- ft .

Of course 30. Qgl? is too cramping. Note that White, not Black, is in danger of cramp.

30. . . . Bxa4 31. Qc8t Kh7

See note to 18th. 32. Nc4 33. Qxc6 34. Ne5

Qc6 Bxc6 Bb5!

Fine play. White has no time to take the f-ft , because then .. . Nd7-b6-a4, seeming a slow maneuver, cannot be stopped and would force White to yield his ¥/1-..Q. for the passed ft . White's next move looks fair enough. Who would dream that it could bring him into serious trouble?

35. f4 Kg8

��-�� 'ii�� u�U -�?if"% �%�"!-t%'"%�� j��-� � � �� · ��. " � � � �

It looks now as though White should have no difficulty at all in drawing by simply developing his �. However, it is not easy. Ozols probably looked at such lines as 36. Kgl Ne8! 3Z Kf2 (not 3Z Bf! Bxfl 38. Kxfl Nd6 39. Nc6 Kj8. For if then 40. Nxb4, Black wins two fts for one. Or if 40. e5, . . . Nc4 wins off hand.) Nd6 38. Ke3,f6!

From this it appears that White had not yet quite realized on Move 35 that his position contained the seeds of danger. He should at once have started "developing" by 35. Kgl! to be followed by Bfl, surely drawing. Probably Ozols was playing to the score-that old tempter-and fishing for complications rather than equality. He now plays the move evidently prepared by his 35th; it is to open up for his As. It also gives him a passed ft , but, being in the center instead

- 1 56 -

His Writings

of remote, a vulnerable one. 36. d5 exd5 37. exd5 Bc5! 38. Bf3 Ne8! 39. Kg2 f6 40. Nc6 Nd6 41. Na5 Bb6 42. Nb3 Kf7 43. g4 Ba4!

And if 44. Nd2 ?, .. .Be3. 44. Bdl Nc4 45. Bel Ke7

Very elegantly, Black carries out the procedure of "changing the blockaders." The W will be able to blockade and assail the .ft. simultaneously, which the l£'1 can't. Black's passed .ft. is too remote for White to reciprocate.

46. g5 47. Na5 48. gxh6 49. Nb3

Kd6 Bb5! gxh6 Be3!

Before winning the .ft. Black forces an exchange, reducing White's drawing chances. Two checking lis can be very annoying to a player trying to win.

50. Kf3 Bxcl 51. Nxcl Kxd5 52. Bc2 Nd6 53. Kg4 Be8 54. Bb3t Kd4 55. f5 Nc4 56. Kf4 Nd2 57. Be6 Bh5! 58. Na2 b3 59. Nb4 Be8!

The li, having got the .ft. a step further, resumes its all-purposes defensive post. Not 59 . . . b2 60. Ba2 b7=Q. 67. Bxb7 Nxb7 because of 62. Nc6ffollowed by . . . Ne7 and .. . NgB, making the win an arduous business at best.

60. Bxb3 Nxb3 Now comes the last phase: turning the

piece plus to account. It still needs care, with so few .ft.s left. White's W must be forced away from its f- .ft. .

61. Nc2t Kc5 62. Ne3 Bh5 63. Nfl Nd4 64. Ke4 Ne2! 65. Ne3 Nc3t 66. Kd3 Nd5 67. Nfl Bf3! 68. h4 Bg2 69. Ng3 Kd6 70. Kd4 Ne7! 71. Resigns

After 77. h5, . . . Bc6 and it's zugzwang, the great bugbear of ltls and Ws who, if allowed to refrain from moving, could often laugh superior foes to scorn-highly beneficial to the facial muscles.

The game is a fine example of sustained accuracy by Klass combined with strategy of a high order. Going through the longer games of the Botvinnik-Bronstein match, could you match this one for excellence? Probably not. This exemplifies the truth about correspondence chess: the players may not be so good, but the chess is often better.

- 1 57 --


COMBINATION VERSUS PLANNING

Ortvin Sarapu, champion of New Zealand and joint champion of Australasia for 1952, wrote a most helpful series in the New Zealand Chessplayer entitled, "Ortvin Sarapu Coaches."

The July 1953 issue contains No. 4 of the series. Here Sarapu mentions a system which he credits to the famous Soviet grandmaster Levenfish, also famous as a writer and analyst.

It is a system for evaluating a position: simply compare each white piece with its opposite number in the Black camp. With the permission of the NZ. C.P. we crib the article holus-bolus.

(Sarapu takes over . . . )

Judgment

"First we examine the situation for material.

"White has Rook for Bishop and pawn, but Black has two powerful Bishops. So material is about equal.

"Second, we come to the more important part-to judge the positional advantages and disadvantages.

"The system of comparing every piece and pawn individually with its rival comes, as I know, from old grandmaster Levenfish, who drew a match 5-5 with Botvinnik in 1937.

"The system's advantages are that it helps you to get a correct or nearly correct understanding of the position, to judge which player has the better chances. It enables

avoidance of obvious blunders and gives direction to your efforts to discover what you must do to improve your position.

"Its disadvantage is mainly that you have a limited ration of time on your clock, but you can do a lot of 'work' during the opponent's thinking time.

Kings

"We start with the Kings. It is clear that the white King is dangerously placed. He has no move and is "x-rayed" by the black Queen's Bishop. He is guarded mainly by two pawns.

"On the contrary, the black King is safe, far from any threats. An endgame advantage for Black is that his King is closer to the center.

Queens "The white Queen protects the weak c

pawn and the weak square £2, but she pins the Knight. The Queen cannot move much without allowing . . . Nj2f or . . . Nxc3. Therefore she is tied to defensive tasks.

"Black's Queen protects her weak fpawn and is unguarded; also she is indirectly attacked by the white Queen. But she can move and improve her position without incurring disadvantage.

- 1 58 -

His Writings

"Our 'diagnosis': both passively placed. one of them. This is the only, but strong, threat White has.

White King's Rook and Black Rook "The King's Rook has pressure on the

f-pawn, but is pinned to defense of square f2, so his mobility is limited.

"The black Rook is actively placed, close to the center, has pressure on White's weak c-pawn and on the weak King-side, but is unguarded.

"We give the black Rook superiority.

White Queen's Rook and Black's Queen's Bishop, King's Bishop Pawn

"The Rook is undeveloped, can be developed in one move, but remains passive, and Rd1 will lose the Exchange after . . . Rxd1.

"Black's Queen's Bishop controls two center squares and 'x-rays' White's King. Its power will increase when the black Knight moves. The f-pawn is backward and under pressure, also it would be hard to improve its position.

"At present the Bishop is stronger than the white Queen's Rook: another plus for Black.

The Other Two Bishops

"The black King's Bishop controls the long open diagonal and bars the white King from moving. In cooperation with the Knight, it has strong pressure on White's weak f2.

"The white Bishop has merely defensive duty in protecting the c-pawn, is unguarded, but controls two center squares and supports e5 for the white Knight.

"The black King's Bishop is the superior piece.

Knights "The white Knight is unguarded, but it

has a protected square on e5 from which it would attack simultaneously the adverse Rook and Bishop, and exchange against

"The black Knight is pinned and is in the way of the Queen's Bishop. It is protected, in the center, and has pressure on f2, g3, and c3.

"As the white Knight has a good threat, we can say it has some advantage over its rival . . . unless the black Knight has a threat to balance.

The Pawns "We compare a-pawn versus a-pawn,

e-pawn versus e-pawn, and so on. "The a-pawns are about evenly placed,

protected, but not under pressure. "The b-pawns are the same, only that

White's is protected by the weak c-pawn and can become weak itself.

"The c-pawns: White's pawn is twice attacked, by Rook and Knight, and just protected-by the valuable Queen and the Bishop. It is a clear weakness in White's game. (An inexperienced player as Black would go after it, but wrongly in this case.)

"g-pawns: The white pawn is semipinned by the Queen's Bishop. Its value is in covering its King. The black g-pawn is well advanced and very dangerous for White. It is threatening to advance and break the white King's position by attacking f2 and h2. Also, by advancing this pawn to g3 Black can play his Queen to h4 with mating threats. So there is one strong threat against White's possible Ne5.

"Now, last, the h-pawns: Black's pawn is advanced, and also is threatening to break White's King's position in two moves by going to h4 and h3. While White's g-pawn is semi-pinned, that is another dangerous threat against White. But it is two moves long, during which White would have time to play Ne5 and Nxc6. The white h-pawn is merely protecting the King from frontal checks and barring enemy occupation of

- 1 59 -


g3. It can be attacked by the black g-pawn. So his h-pawn is a decided weakness in White's position.

"By means of all this comparing, we are able to judge the position as it is at present on the board.

"Black has a big advantage. "Further, we know where his advan

tage lies: it is on the King-side, particularly against White's King. Black's pieces 'aim' in this direction; so it would be wrong to concentrate against White's weak c-pawn. Black must do something on the King-side, otherwise his advantage would slowly disappear after Ne5!

Planning "As we know White's threat and one of

Black's threats, we (as Black) have to find which weakness on White's King-side can be exploited successfully and in less time than White's threat takes for its execution.

"Weaknesses, we know, are on White's f2, g2, and h2.

"To use f2 we need more pressure on it, so we make the attempt 1 . . . g3, which also threatens White's h-pawn and ... Qh4 and mate on h2.

"If White plays 2. Ne5, . . . Q!t4 3. h3 QJh3f 4. gxh3 Nf2t 5. Kgl Nxh3#.

"We can disregard the threat of 1 . . . h4, which gives White ample time to defend. For instance, 2. Ne5 h3 3. Nxc6 and White has avoided a quick loss.

"So attack on White's g-pawn is too slow."

(Sarapu evidently intended to mention the objection to 1 ... g3. We leave it to our readers, for they would have to see it in actual play.)

Against White's h-Pawn "As we know, the white g-pawn is semi

pinned. Therefore perhaps we can play 7 .. . Rh3, with the threat of mate or win of the

Queen by ... Ng3f, as gxh3 cannot be played because of .. . Ng3f and mate.

"But the catch here is that White will make room for his King by 2. Bd4, to play Kgl after .. . Ng3f.

"We could continue the attack by 2 ... g3! 3. Rf4 (of course 3. gxh3 Nj2t 4. Kgl Nxh3#) Rxh2t 4. Kgl Nj2! 5. Rxf2 ( 5. QJe7 Rhl#) gxj2f 6. Kxj2 Rxg2f with a winning attack. But it is too long again.

"There must be something better. Only the white h-pawn and the black Knight are in the way.

"How can we remove them? "We see it all now: 1. •• Ng3t!! 2. hxg3

Qh4t!! 3. gxh4 Rh3#. "White can of course decline to die so

beautifully by playing 2. QJg3, but Black still wins with ease.

"Combinations do not 'come to us.' We have to find them. When we know exactly where the weaknesses are in a position, we have covered the most difficult part. The rest is what is generally called 'routine,' but care is always required. There is no excuse for carelessness."

(End of Sarapu's article.)

Commentary There is a great deal to be said for

Levenfish's form of reconnaissance from a positional viewpoint. As Sarapu says, it can usually be carried out during your opponent's move-a far better way of using the time than speculating on possible moves, of which he can play only one. Moreover, although it cannot give a precise estimate of a position, nevertheless it forces you to observe many things you could easily miss by reconnoitering less methodically. I think many readers will have occasion to bless Sarapu for drawing their attention to the system.

- 1 60 -

His Writings

(article diagram repeated)

Black to move

Now note that I said, "from a positional viewpoint." Look at the diagram again, reprinted on this page. You already know the combination that wins for Blacka very nice sacrifice of� and 4). It is based on the white �'s lack of squares: one safe check must be mate-a type of "net." Just how much is the combination based on the positional valuation, or upon Black's positional superiority as estimated by that valuation? I say that it has very little connection therewith. For supposing we greatly improve White's position in various ways, and make it like the next diagram.

(Hypothetical diagram)

Black to move

Here we have eliminated White's glaring weakness at c3; we have transferred his undeveloped § to the positionally magnificent square e2, where it reinforces the pres-

sure on the black 4::1; and we have advanced the other § to f4 so that it threatens Rxe4.

If we now apply the Levenfish system, we shall at least be in grave doubt as to who, on the whole, comes out on the credit side. No longer are the black § and 4::1 bearing on a weak ft , nor are any white pieces tied to its defense; no longer can we claim that Black's �-.il must be rated above White's �-§-always remember, we are not supposed to have seen any combination yet, for if we had, the reconnaissance would be unnecessary. We can only judge on purely general grounds. On those grounds, how could we place Black on the credit side? Indeed, if it were White's move he would win material forthwith, and Black might begin casting about desperately for some way to save his 4), and consider the sorry resource .. .j5-ifhe didn't see the combination.

Yes, the combination is still on, and is even stronger now! There are several other changes we might have made in the position without eliminating it, just as there are numerous possible ways of ruling it oute.g., in the first diagram, place the white 4::1 on e2, and then, although you could not say the 4::1 was as well placed in a vague, positional sense as on c4, yet it would be nearer its own � and would prevent Black from making a crushing assault; and Bd4 would become a good defensive threat.

In short, we can improve White's game "positionally" and make him lose more quickly: we can make it "worse" and give him a fighting chance! No kidding? No, no kidding!

Why did I say "even stronger"? Because after 1 ... Ng3f 2. Q;cg3 Rxg3 Black has a § en prise, and of course White cannot take Black's � because of ... Bxg2#. So, for the combination, White's § is worse placed when well developed (on e2) than away in a corner doing nothing. Such paradoxes are

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typical of combinations in general. General principles count for nothing when there is a way for one player to force certain moves by his opponent. By a combination, as Emanuel Lasker says, in effect, you may twist credits into debits and debits into credits. Looked at positionally, combinations are sheer "Alice in Wonderland." They upset the logical side of chess-using "logical" in the popular, narrow sense-with romance. In chess, the hero really does rescue the heroine when surrounded by brigands, gangsters, tigers, crocodiles, and whatnot, and the intrepid secret service agent really does get out of prison and through the enemy lines with the vital documents. It is so in the second diagram-not so much in the first, because there Black does happen to have a positional advantage and his win comes as no surprise.

In the second diagram, we did not make the position nearly as bad for Black as we might have. If you like, throw in an extra white .il, say at b3. White becomes a Ei up, and his position is "overwhelming" -only it is Black's move, and the combination still wins for Black. That should convince anybody.

Conclusion

So what do we conclude? Simply that a positional valuation is reliable only if we can exclude combinations from our thoughts, i.e., we are sure that the player whose move it is cannot do anything startling, and that his opponent is not threatening anything startling either, or that if he is, it can be prevented without inconvenience.

Does this mean that a hunt for possible combinations should altogether precede the positional reconnaissance? Not necessarily. Especially at your opponent's turn to move, a positional reconnaissance will pay. His move may radically alter the situation, so that in any case you will need to check up

for combinations after he has moved. And even suppose your opponent moves too soon for you to complete or even begin your positional reconnaissance-well, still go ahead with it if you cannot decide on your best move easily. And then, after completing it and forming a rough positional estimate, temporarily erase that estimate from your mind and examine the board for possible combinations-forks, pins, nets, ties on the one hand (see Guide to Good Chess} and checks, captures, and threats on the other. For two ways of looking for combinations are better than one-just as a detective may miss a clue when following one line of investigation but may pick it up when he changes over to another.

It may seem that much time would be consumed over all these reconnaissances. Not nearly as much time as most players waste in haphazard calculation-going over the same ground several times and perhaps missing something that would stare them in the face if they searched methodically.

Let us suppose that the first diagram were slightly altered so as to preclude an immediate combination, e.g., &i:J/e2 as already suggested. Then the Levenfish system of valuation could be very helpful to Black. It would show him his big positional advantage and possibly suggest a plan for turning it to account. But it is not strictly a combination-finder.

In a previous article Sarapu used the Levenfish system in a quieter position, where its merit was more obvious. It is very useful where no combination is "on," which means in the great majority of chess positions. But in my opinion a player should never omit to comb the board for combinations in the two ways I have often written about: ( 1 ) forks, pins, nets, ties; (2) captures, checks, and threats.

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His Writings

THE STEINITZ·LASKER "LAW" EXPLODED Showing that the "law" stated by Emanuel Lasker does not work even for combina

tions of the grand type-also showing how Lasker lost the world championship by following the "law" -various useful sidelights for those already firmly convinced about the main issue.

The scene is Baden-Baden in the merry month of May 1925. We are visitors to the great chess tourney in progress. Just as we enter, something of an altercation is going on at a board occupied by two of the tallest grandmasters of chess, Richard Reti, who is six feet four inches, and Alexander Alekhine, who looks almost as tall because he holds himself straighter.

Alekhine has falsely claimed a draw by repetition. The director easily upsets the claim, and the game proceeds. Mter a few more moves we arrive at the first diagram. White (Reti) has just played 25. b5 axb5 26. axb5.

Alekhine

Reti

From the wording of Alekhine's next note in the book of his games ( 1924-37), which I quote further on, it is clear that he takes it for granted that on purely positional criteria White's game seems preferable. He speaks of White's "attack" and finds it "almost incredible" that Black should have a move to overthrow what would appear to be the natural order of things. Yes, summing up the position in a purely positional

way, I think most experts would say White had an edge, while granting him but faint winning chances since he will have fts on only one wing. Others would call it "fairly balanced." I am making the purely imaginary assumption that you could find masters who would not recognize the position, although to confront a chess master in real life with this position and ask his opinion would be rather like asking a student of English literature what would be a good line to follow upon . . .

. . . The blue deep thou wing est,

And singing still dost soar

Still, making that assumption, there is one thing certain: that nobody would claim for Black a "considerable plus." If anyone did so just to be "contrary," you could ask him, "Why, then, did Alekhine use the words 'almost incredible'?"

But Emanuel Lasker states as a law, based on the tenets of Steinitz: "No combination without a considerable plus."

This "law" is easily shown to be false as regards "little combinations," but I said that some people might try to defend Lasker by

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saying he intended to refer only to combinations of a more grandiose type. That is why I now discuss one of the longest combinations ever played-"grandiose," if you like, though "grand" fits it better, and "beautiful" better still.

Here I must digress to admit to a vague recollection of having seen the same position discussed by another chess writer, and from the same viewpoint as mine, but ransack my files as I will I cannot find the reference, so I hope some reader will write and inform me so that due acknowledgment may be made later on. Chess literature suffers enough already from lack of acknowledgment; some chess writers have no compunction about lifting chunks of analysis and leaving readers to assume it is original, which is unjust both to the originator and to the student, who has a right to know whether the authority for the analysis or statements is one to inspire (a) trust or (b) doubt-though, to be sure, trust is in general a bad attitude in a chess student, and doubt always safe.

I suggest reconnoitering the position by the Levenfish scheme detailed by Sarapu. This will not give a very clear-cut verdict, but at least it will not give a considerable plus for Black. White's aggressive 4)/cS and the isolated ft soon to appear on Black's �-side (b- ft or c- ft ) make that impossible on any purely positional reconnaissance. By Znosko-Borovsky's system of positional valuation-material equal, "time" in White's favor, space obviously so-we get a plus for White, but I don't press this point, as Z-B's system of positional valuation is quite illogical and a serious flaw in his otherwise excellent work on the middlegame. Also, by Weaver W Adams' system we at any rate get no plus for Black. Nor by any other system I have heard of could we arrive at an appreciable plus for Black-let alone a "considerable plus."

Therefore, according to Steinitz and Emanuel Lasker-formidable authorities, surely, seeing they monopolized the world championship for about the last four decades of the 19th Century and first two of the 20th-there is no point in Black's searching for a combination in the position of first diagram. He will only waste time.

Now, Alekhine was once asked, "From what player have you learned most?" and he replied, "Steinitz." Then he was asked, "With what master do you feel the most affinity?" and he replied, "Anderssen."

It is clear that he did not despise Steinitz, but he knew that chess was a bottomless ocean; you can survey it and acquire knowledge about it, but you cannot plumb it. So he ignored the advice of Steinitz and Emanuel Lasker and searched, like Anderssen, for the magic talisman. He played:

26. • • • Re3!!! Now I quote his very important note:

"It seems almost incredible that this spectacular move not only stops White's attack but even brings him into serious trouble. And yet it is so." He adds, "It is obvious that the Rook cannot be taken . . . "

Yes, obvious enough once you see the move at all, but the difficulty is to see moves that put pieces en prise-especially here, for even if one glanced at . . . Re3 the tendency would be to think, "Yes. White can't take the Rook straight away, but surely he can fix things so that it will have to retreat sooner or later, and the net result will be loss of time."

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His Writings

The point of . . . Re3 is that it contains a threat, namely . . . Rxg3f, with obvious winning variations. White, however, has various parries, and the difficulty is in proving that against all of them Black can come out all right. Note that 2Z Rd3 is answered by 2Z .. Rxe2, whereas if 26 .. . Ra3, then 2Z Rd3 is good.

27. Nf3? All immortal brilliancies require the

defender's cooperation. He must, by chance, select the replies which allow the brilliant sequel. Alekhine tries to make out that he could have gained an advantage still after 2Z Bj3 Bxj3 28. exj3, and his analysis, so far as I know, has never been challenged. But it is quite wrong, and the truth is that Black has an easy draw but nothing more, e.g., by simply extricating his � . He will afterwards lose his weak ft on the 'i;Y-side, and because of White's doubled ft on the 'itl-side White would not have a vestige of a chance to win. This is enough to prove the combination sound, seeing that any other line would be at least slightly in White's favor. But Alekhine claims an advantage for Black, and his analysis (after 2Z Bj3 Bxj3 28. exj3) runs 28 ... cxb5 29. Nxb5 Qg5! "still with advantage for Black, as 3 0. Rxd5? would lose immediately after 30 ... Re7f 37. Rxe7 ():elf followed by . . . Ra 7. "

That is simply not true. Mter 32. Kg2 Ra 7 White plays 33. Rd8f. If then 33 ... Ne8, 34. Rxe8f Q:e8 35. Nd6. White cannot lose, and has winning chances. Or if 33 .. . Kh7, 34. Q!!Af Kg6 35. f4 and White wins, for now he has a safe piece plus, and if Black regains it by 35 ... Qf7 fand 36 ... Q:b5, White wins easily by 3Z Qg5fand 38. Qj5f, etc.

Alekhine's analysis up to 37 ... Q:e7fis, however, okay for a draw, but Black must then play 32 ... Nxd5 before . . . Ra1, leaving White to force perpetual check.

It only occurred to me to check Alekhine's analysis after writing all the article

up to this point; otherwise, I'd have chosen a more convincing combination and a more convincingly "inferior" position. I'll do that.

Just to show how the Alekhine game went, here are the moves; and observe that the combination goes on all the time, though it takes turns which could not possibly have been visualized at the outset. The better the player, the less he needs to analyze a combination right through; in each variation he stops where his judgment tells him his attack is sufficient. How do you tell when a combination ends? The answer is, when a "quiet" position is reached again-even if only for one move. In this game, violent, forcing, or semi-forcing moves by Black persist right from Move 26 to the end. For full notes, see My Best Games 7924-JZ

27. cxb5 28. Qxb5 Nc3! 29. Qxb7

If 29. Qs4, .. . b5. 29. 30. Nxb7 31. Kh2

Qxb7 Nxe2t

Alekhine shows that Kf7 also loses. 31. . . . Ne4!

Alekhine calls this the beginning of a new combination arising out of the first, but that is a subjective way of regarding it. Objectively, it is a brilliant move by which the original combination is kept alive.

32. Rc4! Nxf2 33. Bg2 Be6! 34. Rcc2 Ng4t 35. Kh3 NeSt 36. Kh2 Rxf3! 37. Rxe2 Ng4t 38. K.h3 Ne3t 39. Kh2 Nxc2 40. Bxf3 Nd4! 41. Resigns

Because of 47. Re3 (or 47. Rj2) Nxj3f 42. Rxj3 Bd5! and Black wins a piece.

Thus the combination was 17 moves

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long. In November 1948 Chess World, we gave one of Botvinnik's that ran to 22 moves-believed to be the longest in the annals of chess.

Hoist With His Own Petard Since I have demonstrated that Reti

had a saving line, thereby weakening my case-but demonstrating once again that far more published analysis is unsound, Horatio, than is dreamed of in your philosophy-I shall look at another position. And why not one ofEmanuel Lasker's own, since it was he that announced the crazy "law"?

In this case Lasker obeyed his own "law," or Steinitz' s if you like, and thereby lost the game he could have won-and he lost, at the same time, the world title. For the loss put him two down against Capablanca, a terrible handicap against a player whose drawing technique was nearly infallible; a win would have made the score one-all, with the final result unpredictable since Lasker would have gained new heart. You might wonder why I didn't seize on this dramatic refutation forthwith-I just didn't think of it till the Alekhine combination failed to work out a hundred percent.

Capablanca 1

Lasker (to play his 1 7th)

Reasoning on purely positional lines, Black must be conceded a slight edge.

White's move ahead in development is vitiated by the pin of his �. White has an isolated d- .ft . True to his Steinitzian "law," Lasker thought only of equalizing the position and played, accordingly, 17. Bxd5 Nxd5 18. Bxe7 Nxe7 19. Qb3 Bc6 20. Nxc6 bxc6. White has come out quite well; his yielding of the "two Bishops" was only temporary, and as against White's "isolated clpawn", Black himself now has an isolated eft . The position is balanced. Lasker drifted unaccountably, and lost, but that has nothing to do with the case.

The Hungarian, Breyer, demonstrated an absolute win for White in the position diagrammed, by 77. Bxf6!This gives up the two .Q.s without any positional compensation (if simply ... Nxf6in reply), and it is only when treated as the first move of a combination that it begins to make sense. Lasker failed to do so. It seems to have been part of Lasker's method-never mentioned by him in his books-to play the opening as quickly as possible, going mainly by principles, so as to conserve time; if he could be well ahead of his opponent on the clock in the middlegame, he did not object to a slight disadvantage; his defensive skill was great, and in trying to increase his slight advantage against a precise defense, the opponent was liable to get still further behind on the clock. Of course Lasker had no chance of getting ahead of Capablanca's clock, but at least he did not want to get far behind, so he would naturally pursue his normal policy. Thus Lasker would be averse to pondering over "anti-positional" moves like 7Z Bxf6. He must, however, have glanced at it; I wonder if he considered 7Z .. Nxf6 or 7Z .. Bxf6 as the probable reply; very likely he pictured either of these moves as good for Black, not seeing any compensation for giving up "the two Bishops."

No doubt had Lasker thought 7Z Bxf6 worthy of a good look, he would have seen

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His Writings

its merits; but a player must follow his principles in cross-board chess, as time is short. Lasker' s results show that his principles must have been decidedly good, by and large, but the one he followed here let him down. It remains now to give Breyer's demonstrations, after 7Z Bxf6!!

2

After the suggested 1 1. Bx/6!!

Variation I 17. .. Nxf6 18. Ng6! Rfe8 (If .. .fxg6, 79.

Rxe6 regains the piece with a passed ft plus, therefore winning.) 19. Rxe6!!

And again White is a passed ft +, and wins, for if 19 ... fxe6? White mates prettily in four [Ed. Note: It goes 20. Bxe6f Kh7 21. Nj8t Kh8 22. Q!t7f Nxh7 23. Ng6#.} It is easy to see how even Lasker, if his principles told him a combination was not likely in the position, would fail to see all this.

Variation 1 1 17. .. Bxf6! 18. Bxd5 exd5 19. Ng4! In annotating the game in Mein

Wettkampf mit Capablanca, I do not know whether Lasker had as yet seen Breyer's analysis. At any rate, he gives Variation 11 only, and at this stage 19. Qj5, placing Black in difficulties. But Breyer's move is stronger.

19 ... Bg5. Black cannot let his position be wrecked. Nor can he guard the threatened � with his 'U1 because of 20. Qj5 with multiple threats. If 19 ... Bd8, 20. Qj5 forks .§ and ft . If 19 ... Bh4, 20. g3 Bg5 21. [4

forces ... Bd8. 20.f4! Bxf4 21. Q/5. At last! Now the 'U1 comes here with

gain of tempo because it hits a loose piece. 21 ... Bc7 (so that after Q:d5 the 'U!-� is

not pinned, e.g., if 27 ... Bb8, 22. Q:d5 a6 23. a4 Rfd8 24. Qj5 g6 25. Qs5 and wins, for . . . Re8 loses the Exchange). [Ed.: 25. Qs5 loses to 25 . . . Bxe5. On the other hand, 21 . . . Bb8 is no prize and 21 . . . Bg5 is certainly better. 24 . . . g6 is bad because of25. Nxh6f. We don't know what Purdy had in mind here.}

Breyer did not analyze 21 . . . Bg5 22. Q:d5 a6 23. Q:b7 @4; however, after 24. Nxb5 axb5 25. Re2 Black has a ft- and virtually no compensation.

22. Nxd5 Kh8 (White threatened mate in three, also a fork.) 23. Nxh6! gxh6 (Else White has a ft + and still his attack.) 24. Nf6 and wins. (If 24 .. . Kg7, mate in three. If 24 .. . Bd3, 25. Q,xd3 with a winning attack and a ft + thrown in.)

Other Variations If 7Z .. Nxc3, 18. Bxe7 and White will

emerge with .§ and two pieces for ¥fJ [Ed. Note: After 19 . . . Ne2f 20. Rxe2 Rxc2 21. Rxc2].

If 7Z .. gxf6, 18. Ng6! is a simple and decisive little combination, easily worked out.

Breyer seems to have proved that 7Z Bxf6 gives White a sufficient advantage to win in all variations.

What then? The logical mind must then insist that

there must have been an advantage for Black inherent in Diagram 2. Of course! What are we to deduce? There are two lines of thought available.

1. That a positional valuation is valid only on the assumption that the player to move has no sound combination and is threatened with none.

2. That the accepted ways of evaluating a position are too rough and ready-that

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we ought to go further and look for combinative "motifs" (signposts suggesting the mere possibility of combinations) as part of our valuation.

Now, proposition 1 is absolutely true, so we can let it stay put whether 2 is sound or not.

Proposition 2, up to the dash, is also right. In particular, none of the systems of positional valuation sufficiently emphasize the overriding importance of the respective �s. Most of them ask you to compare the �s, but they merely treat them as a factor without stressing that they are an overriding factor. The �s must be looked to from two viewpoints:

(a) degree of exposure ( ft shelter or lack thereof) ;

(b) number of hostile pieces able to be brought to bear quickly, relative to the number of defending pieces.

If we look at Diagram 1 from these viewpoints, we see that White is slightly ahead in (a) and clearly ahead in (b), and then Breyer's combination begins to look less surprising. This reduces the romance, but gives us a chance to become better players. True, both (a) and (b), but particularly (b), are always almost impossible to estimate with precision in the matter of degree or extent, but that is no tragedy. It is not so vital to decide who, on the whole, has the better game as to decide where each player's prospects lie.

The question that matters to you in actual play is simply "What is my best move?", and if you can decide without being sure who has the theoretical advantage, so much the better.

What about "motifs" for combination other than the �s-"pins," "nets," "ties," etc.? Well, if you notice a tied piece you are entitled to count it as a positional disadvantage anyway, and the same applies to a piece with limited or no retreat (therefore in

danger of netting). Pieces standing on the same file, rank, or diagonal, or on squares of the same calor bearing a certain geometrical relation (subject to a 4J fork if a 4J is handy), cannot always be treated as weaknesses; so much depends on whether an enemy piece is available to make something of it.

It boils down to this-that if you try to combine the positional and combinative reconnaissance and call it all positional, your verdict will be very indeterminate. Better to make a purely positional reconnaissance first (but including the �s as paramount), because then-ifthere are no combinations around, as usually there aren'tyou have a reasonably precise valuation going on. But you must remember to look for combinative possibilities then.

The truth about combinations in general can be illustrated in a way more fantastic than precise-and fantastic ways are the best because easily remembered-by a tale of Baron Munchausen. He had only one charge for his gun, but, for some reason I cannot call to mind, needed quite a large number of ducks for provisions. So he waited patiently for days, hidden in the rushes, and was at last rewarded by seeing the ducks, for one instant, ranged in a straight line passing through his post of vantage. Taking rapid aim, he fired, and the musket ball went clean through every duck in the pack. That was a combination. Munchausen had to wait for one particular configuration; in chess, there are a great many-a book which sets out the types in full variety is Winning Chess by Chernev and Reinfeld.

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His Writings

WHAT IS A COMBINATION! In a previous article [Ed.: How to Tackle Wild Positiom, Chess World, August 1955, to

be reprinted in CJ.S. Purdy 's Fine Art of Chess Annotation VtJl. 2 }, I wrote a good deal about the investigation of threats in any position to see which ones, if any, are real.

Before proceeding with the present article, I ask every reader of it to cast his eye over the first diagram. It is Black's move, and you are asked what you consider his best. White has a very real threat in Bg5, winning the Yf1 in a few moves. Black cannot play 7 ... Qf5because of 2. e4 Q_h5 3. Be2 and again the Yf1 is lost. In development, Black is already three or four tempi behind. But still, his position is not yet resignable. What do you think he should play, and why?

Don't turn over the pages yet, because a suggested answer is given further on, and it is really important that the reader should decide on his own answer first. So I will go on to something else.

Position Play v. Combination For many years I have been writing,

off and on, about the distinction between combination and position play. There is no doubt that even if the two merge occasionally, the broad distinction must be understood if anything remotely resembling sane chess is to be played. For instance, there is

no doubt that in some positions there is a winning combination to be found, and either the player finds it and wins, or doesn't find it and doesn't win. There is equally no doubt that in most positions there is no such combination to be found-there are probably spectacular, forcing moves that have to be looked at, but they all prove to be unsound-and in these positions, since nothing can be forced and the opponent has a wide choice, the art is to find, if possible, the move, at least a move, which will give the best results attainable no matter what the opponent does. That is position play, and it covers an enormously wide field. It deals only with small improvements in a position, never with big gains; but it is just as important as combination because, between experts who can usually prevent accidental combinations, neither player is very likely to get the chance for a combination unless he can build up an advantage in little ways first.

Some authors do not explicitly differentiate between the two different ways of thinking in chess-the combinative and the positional. But they still have to use the two different ways, even if they don't enable the student to realize it or don't even realize it themselves. For in such a book, where positional ideas are being discussed in connection with some illustrative game, the author will find himself compelled to interpolate such notes as, "Not yet Nd6 because of the sacrificial reply ... Bxh2t"followed by a string of moves. Perhaps the author does not ever

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discuss sacrifices and combinations in the book, but still he is unable to write a chess book at all without bringing them in. For, whether he likes to admit it or not, a sound combination overrides all positional "principles" whenever it chances to crop up. Such a book can be informative to advanced players who understand that, but may terribly confuse those who don't.

Combination: Attempts at Definition In this article I deal with combinations

alone, because I have lately carried my investigation of the subject a stage further.

Attempts to define a combination have been legion. The trouble is that a combination can be looked at from so many different aspects. These are some of the attempts:

Emanuel Lasker: "A variation or net of variations which leads to a desirable issue by force." (Manual, p. 123.)

Znosko-Borovksy: "A maneuver distinguished by surprise (usually springing from a sacrifice) which brings about a sudden change in the position, and should gain some advantage." (Art of Combination, p. 19.)

Euwe: "A short part of the game within which a certain purpose is attained by force." (Strategy and Tactics, p. 58.)

Romanovsky: "A variation (or group of variations) in the course of which both sides make forced moves and which ends with an objective advantage for the active side." (As translated from the Russian by S. Garry in Botvinnik's 100 Selected Games.)

Botvinnik: "A forced variation with sacrifice." (As translated from the Russian by S. Garry in 100 Selected Games.)

Fine: "A double attack." Gardner: "A series of moves, with a

threat at every stage and at least one of the threats a double threat, so that the opponent is compelled to lose material or otherwise submit to disadvantage." (Lecture in

Dunedin, New Zealand, 1954.) Purdy: "Play of which the initial move

would lead to gain in every possible variation, through weakness at more than one point." ("Secrets of the Chessboard," ACR, March 1938.)

Purdy: "A sudden coup which brings about a substantial gain, no matter what reply the enemy makes." (Guide to Good Chess, 1950, 1952, 1954.)

The last is not an attempt at complete definition, but at one which will be understood by beginners, since it occurs in Part I, the portion of Guide to Good Chess intended partly to introduce the game to people who know nothing about it.

Romanovsky gives a traditional sort of definition, while Botvinnik "rolls his own." Botvinnik criticizes Romanovsky's definition because it would include things which come under the category of maneuvers rather than combinations. It lacks the crashbang-wallop effect that we always associate with a combination.

Botvinnik's own definition covers most combinations, but it does not cover a combination like the one in the second diagram. I hardly think that Botvinnik would call this a maneuver. Even if he would, few other people would. Then again, his definition fails to include a great many combinations of the "net" type. Here we have a succession of threats winding up with the capture of the netted piece, where the netter may have sacrificed nothing at all. Combinations are characterized by violent moves, but not necessarily sacrifices, see Diagram 2, for example.

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His Writings

White to play, wins by 1. Bb5t Ke7 2. Nf5t Ke6 3. Nxg7t, etc.

Fine's definition is an obvious oversimplification. It cuts down to three words the leading idea of most combinations, but not all.

Dr. Gardner's definition is an excellent one for combinations other than "nets," which do not necessarily contain a double threat unless you define a threat in a very special way merely to fit in with the definition. Since mate is a particular case of a net ("encircling motif," to use Lasker's more grandiose language), this is a serious matter. But Gardner's definition has advantages over the others.

Difficulty of Definition The word combination covers so very

wide a field that it is hard to define it precisely and usefully at one and the same time. A wide definition is likely to be too abstract, and a less abstract one is likely to be too narrow.

It is possible to give a good idea of what a combination is in one word.

A combination is a coup. There is no other single word that

comes anywhere near it. Thoughtful players often wonder how

the word "combination" in chess arose. I am certain it was merely a literal translation of the French "combination," which can have the meaning of "a contrivance." This meaning is lost in the translation. A combi-

nation in chess is indeed a special contrivance by which an out-of-the-way effect is achieved. To use a very crude analogy, position play is like a number of people lifting a car with their bare hands; a combination is utilizing the special principles of physics and jacking it up, but in chess it is only sometimes that a jack is handy. Or, to take another analogy, while position play is pedestrian, a combination is the utilization of a car, a plane, or a helicopter-a contrivance in which physical laws of various kinds are utilized to produce extraordinary speeds.

Answer to Problem with Commentary

I tried to set this problem (see diagram at start of article) without giving the show away. Mostly, problems from actual play are too easy because the mere fact that an author thinks one worth a diagram indicates a surprising type of key move, and the student is thus led to examine moves which would entirely escape him in actual play.

In the present case, for example, a caption "Black to play and win" would have made the problem so easy as to destroy its value. Black does win, and quite easily, by 1 ... d5. This happens to be a double threat. One of the threats is very obvious, the other not so obvious unless you have read the masterpiece by Kahn and Renaud, The Art of Checkmate. Since the second threat is mate (in two), the first threat cannot be parried, so White must lose a piece, for which even his four tempi are not nearly enough compensation.

White's threat of winning the � by Bg5becomes meaningless, since 7 ... d5 produces a counter-threat that sends it reeling back on its haunches. This shows how important it is, once you have discovered the opponent's threat or threats, to imagine pro tern that he could not possibly execute them, and then examine possible attacking movessince one of these may wipe the threat out.

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Once you become obsessed with an opponent's threat, you are liable to start scratching around for a defense. On the other hand, if you don't even bother to see if he has any, you will be constantly making absurd blunders, because very frequently a defensive move does happen to be necessary.

It is interesting to observe that the winning move would be much easier to see if Black's c- ft were on c6 instead of c7. For then 1 . . . d5 would be shrieking to be played from a purely positional viewpoint. Not only would it gain a refuge for the threatened ¥!1 (at e6), but it would open a line for the �-A while gaining time by hitting White's �-A. In other words, Black would play it whether he saw it threatened mate or not. Let us suppose that in answer to 1 ... d5 White withdrew his � to f1 or e2. So far, let us assume, neither side has seen the combination. Now, with the �-A's diagonal open, Black does see it. Let's say we have started from this position (after .. . d5, Bfl) and do not know what has gone before. Now we have the two-move combination 1... Q:c3f!! 2. bxc3 (absolutely forced) Ba3#.

I have put the matter this way so as to get a combination which Dr. Gardner's otherwise excellent definition would not well fit. Neither of the two moves of this combination can reasonably be described as containing a double threat. Both are single threats, but it just happens that there is no defense. On the other hand, if we begin with the actual diagram, the first move 1 ... d5 does happen to be a double threat.

Another Moral Look at the diagram again in the light

ofEmanuel Lasker's erroneous proposition: "No combination without a considerable plus, no considerable plus without a combination."

I proved the absurdity of this in my

Chess UfJrldarticle of November 1953 to the satisfaction of all but a few readers who apparently regard any disagreement with Lasker as sacrilege. I regard Emanuel Lasker as occupying in chess a position almost like that of Shakespeare in literature, but Ben Jonson was able to say of Shakespeare, "I loved the man this side idolatry," and still to believe that he had written a few of the worst plays ever published-as indeed he had. Equally, it was quite possible for Lasker occasionally to talk nonsense.

I have had correspondents argue that if a player has in a given position a winning combination, he must for that very reason have had "a considerable plus." All right, but they admit that very often it is absolutely necessary to see the combination before you can see the plus. In that case, we first see the combination, then deduce that there is a considerable plus, and from that fact draw the marvelous conclusion that there may be a combination!

Lasker's statement quite obviously implies that it is no use looking for a combination unless there is a positional advantage. Here, reasoningpositionally, White is about four tempi ahead, and he has what is generally regarded as ensuring the safety of a �plenty of pieces around him. As it happens, the �/d2 and the .§/d l deprive the � of flight squares, and it is true that this should help to give Black the clue to a mating combination; but to call this a "considerable plus" is to twist words in a way that neither Lasker nor any other person could possibly defend.

It is true that combinations are usually brought off by the player with the clearly superior position, but many combinations arise entirely through an error by one side. This is quite often made in a position which, before the error, was much superior, and which, even after the error, cannot be seen to be inferior unless and until one sees the

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combination which the error has made possible. Nobody can possibly dispute these statements.

The conclusion is that in any position we should be optimistic enough to look around for possible combinations, even if we can often cut the search down to a mere glance, that being enough to show that the search is hopeless. We must never be deterred by what appears to be a general positional disadvantage. Every part of the board must be examined for some acciden-

In 1 99 5 Thinkers' Press was fortunate in securing a purchased agreement with Mrs. Anne Purdy, and others, to republ ish any or al l of C.j .S . Purdy's chess writings.

tal feature of a sort that we know may give rise to a combination. Such things override all "positional" rules and precepts.

In the diagram, remove White's 4:'1 from d2 to any other square but e4, and then it is quite correct to say that White ought to win-on the purely positional reasoning that he is three or more tempi ahead in development. But if it is at d2, there is a sound combination, and positional reasoning is misleading.

CECIL JOHN SEDDON lt is her wish that the PURDY 1 906- 1 976 next volume in the Purdy library Series that we publ ish wi l l be "How Purdy Won" because she felt it never got the attention it deserved (th is is true).

In early 1 998 we wi l l republ ish "How Purdy Won" by C.j .S . Purdy, Frank Hutchings , and Kevin Harrison . l t wi l l be done in algebraic notation, completely reformatted, and reedited.

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HOW TO THINK IN CHESS

ON THREATS

Threats are the basis of winning chess. In my article "What Is a Combination?" I included nine different definitions of a

combination by eight different writers; I implied that none was fully satisfactory, and that I was brewing a follow-up article which would attempt to throw new light. This is it.

The essential of a combination is an attempt to gain something by force. What exactly does force mean? Simply limitation of choice of moves. When we have

a move that leaves the opponent a wide choice, as we usually must, our move cannot possibly form part of a combination. It cannot effect a substantial gain of any sort.

Limitation of our opponent's choice is not in itself a combination. We may so force him that he has only one move, but that move may be a winner! So the limitation must be unfavorable.

How is limitation achieved? In general, only by threats. There is one solitary exception, and that is in positions where if it were the opponent's move he would have to suffer some loss. In such a case, if we can find some move which leaves the situation in essentials absolutely undisturbed, we place him in zugzwang (literally "move-compulsion") . Because such a move strikes a paradoxical note (masterly inactivity as a forcing measure!) , it is reasonable to class it as combinative. Emanuel Lasker did class zugzwangas a type of combination.

If we avoid doing so, and treat zug;::wang as something unique, we can say that:

Every move of the attacker in every variation of every combination is a threaL

That excludes the culminating move to which every variation must lead-either a mate, a capture, or-some authorities exclude this-a very great positional gain, such as the establishment of two � s on the seventh/second rank. That move is not part of the combination, but its payoff. The payoff may be entirely different in each variation.

Combinations shade off, till you get down to such simple coups that few or no players are prepared to dignify them with the title of combination. For instance, I play d4, hitting your AleS early in the opening and forcing it to move a second time. My move had a threat, and I have gained a clear tempo. This can be given a material equivalent. Roughly a third of a ft -a little more or less according to circumstances. So it might be argued that it is a combination, though of a very rudimentary kind.

I doubt if it matters whether we call it a combination or not. Certainly general agreement to do so would never be reached.

The important thing is to recognize the overriding importance of threats in chess. In real life, a threat is an unpleasant thing, often punishable by law. But chess is a

game. We are allowed to strive for victory with all our powers, within the rules of the game, and victory without threats is impossible. A threat in chess is not a threat to our

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opponent as a person, but a threat to his pieces. And the pieces themselves are the only abstractions. They are "such stuff as dreams are made on."

As I shall be writing so much about threats, I am at pains to dissociate the term from any unpleasant connotation. Chess is a wholly pleasant game, rightly played.

What do we mean by a threat? Assuming it is your turn to move:

A threat is a move the opponent could make if it were his turn to move which would be damaging to your game.

It is most important to get this wording clear. A threat is a move. Loosely, we often say "He seems to be threatening to trap my Queen." Or "His threat is to trap my Queen." In such vague thinking lies the root of many bad moves. Instead, you must think in actual moves. Look at an actual move that could be a threat, and try to find, by a little calculation, whether it is a real threat or only an apparent threat.

A threat is Rxd4, BcB, Q.h6-not a threat "to take my pawn," "to chivvy my Queen," or "to come down here and start trying to mate." Cut out all baby-talk.

To think of threats in words will continually throw you astray. Listen to experts in a postmortem, and you will continually hear them say things like "Is Rc7 a threat?Well, let's see if it is." They get down to brass tacks-moves, not words.

Having got it straight that a threat is a move, let us remember that it is always an imaginary move, since, by definition, it violates the laws of chess. It is a move the opponent could make ifit were his turn to move, which it never is ("opponent" is used in the old legal sense of "player not to move").

An actual move made should never be alluded to as a threat. But we may, I think,

speak of it as a threatening move, meaning that it contains a threat, e.g., a move like Qj2 may be "threatening" because it contains the threat of @6. If that threat is not parried and @6 is played, then Q.h6 is no longer a threat because it has been played. Whatever is done in chess is the past and ceases to matter. Theoretically, you are not interested in any particular move your opponent has made, but only in the total present position and the future. That was the view of Alekhine, the greatest player of all timebut it's not "view" at all, any more than there can be a "view" that two and two make four.

Mter Q.h6 has been played, it may be that Qg74F is a threat.

A little point arises with a check. To be consistent, we must say that a check, once made (say Rg7f), is not a threat, but that it contains the threat of ):! takes �.

Well, that may sound funny, but it is right. Every threat is an imaginary move, and every check threatens the imaginary capture of the �. The threat is never executed, because if the opponent fails at first to parry it he is compelled by the rules to retract his move and do so-except in lightning chess, where Rxe7 is perfectly legal.

But although a check, when given, is no longer a threat, it may well be a threat before it has occurred.

It is impossible to play chess even passably well unless you see all captures and checks at your own and your opponent's disposal.

Observation must precede thought, else the "thought" will be waste of time.

But seeing captures and checks is not enough. Thu must see all real threats. That means you must also see the unreality of unreal threats.

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Here we come to a nice point. It is often difficult to determine whether a threat is real or unreal.

(An unreal threat is a move which your opponent might make if it were his move and which may appear damaging, but which a deeper examination will prove harmless or even suicidal.)

When in doubt, you can always save time by remembering that it is really your move. Try then the following way of thinking.

Imagine the threat could not possibly be executed. Then what would be my best move? Try out each attractive move separately, considering each one as follows. Visualize the whole position as it would be after this move of yours, and then work out whether the opponent would gain by executing his ''threat. "

This is not only a good way to think when you are uncertain if a threat is real, but even when you know it is real. For if you know it is real, you are prone to play defensively, which may lose you an opportunity: Capablanca-Bogoljubov, Carlsbad 1929.

After 8 . . . NcS

It may be a little tricky to work out whether 9 . . . Ncxe4 is a real threat. Actually, it isn't, and it is very easy to see that 9 . . . Nfxe4 isn't. But Capablanca reasoned that 9. Nbc3 was a developing move he wanted

to play anyway, and it would make calculation unnecessary, as it gives the e- ft extra guard. So he played it.

But forcing the enemy to move a � out of play is usually even better than development. Had Capa reasoned on the lines set out in my last paragraph in italics, he would have considered 9. b4! This would force the � to withdraw (if 9 . . . Ncxe4??, 10. j3) and gain valuable space on the �-side.

Znosko-Borovsky published Capa's failure to play 9. b4 in a list of "Carlsbad Blunders."

Since exaggeration in chess writing is rife and harmful, I mention that there is only a fine shade of position involved. After 9. b4 Ncd7 10. Bb2 a5 11. a3, Black can free his game by a .§ swap, and White's advantage is slight. On the other hand, after 9. Nbc3 a5 White probably had none at all.

In your own games, I suggest you try investigating threats (both real and doubtful) on the lines suggested.

MORE ON THREATS

My last article opened with the sentence, "Threats are the basis of winning chess."

It is most important to realize this fully. Apart from zugzwang, you cannot gain ground in a game of chess without threats. This is easily proved by definition.

We defined a threat as:

'� move the opponent could make if it were his turn to move which would be damaging to your game."

Equally well:

'� move you could make if it were your turn to move which would be damaging to your opponent's game."

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So if either player makes a move that does not contain a threat, it means he could not damage his opponent's game even if he were suddenly given the right to make two moves in succession. Still less can he do so if the opponent has a move in between.

"Still less" is subject to occasional exceptions. In some positions, the opponent has no move which will improve his position, e.g., his best course is to let his � oscillate between h l and gl. In such positions, "still less" would be the wrong words. "No more" would be correct. But the proof is not affected.

Finally, there is the very exceptional case of zugzwang. This is a case where the player is under no threat, but any move will make his position worse. So of course we had to give this as an exception at the outset.

We cannot always threaten, nor is a threatening move invariably better than a non threatening one, since the opponent may be able to parry the threat with a powerful threatening move of his own. Indiscriminately selecting moves just because they contain dangerous threats is no use; you must pay some attention to what the opponent can do in reply. Never imagine that you can under any circumstances dispense with calculation, though only a very little will sometimes suffice.

However, without regarding every threatening move as necessarily strong, we should search for strong ones at every move, even when the opponent himself is strongly threatening us.

A tennis player, when caught in a terribly defensive position, may startle his opponent with an unanswerable shot, as when he volleys a smash and, being near the net, easily passes his opponent. Still commoner are attacking resources by a defender in chess. It is perfectly true that a player with an "overwhelming position" ought theo-

retically to win a game of chess, just as he ought to win a rally in tennis. But attackers rarely play perfectly; they make mistakes.

Get away from the time-honored concept of military strategy in chess, where plans of campaign are the dominating factor. Chess is better regarded as something like a long rally in tennis. You plan, but must not be at all surprised if you have to discard your plan next move, either because your opponent plays weakly and gives you a new opportunity or he plays strongly and shows that your plan is not feasible.

All this is true for correspondence chess at least as much as cross-board. Truer, in fact. For adherence to plans has the advantage in cross-board chess of gaining on the clock. But correspondence chess is pure chess, divorced from such extraneous considerations, and is therefore better than crossboard chess as a starting-point for discussing pure chess theory. It is here that the old chess concepts based on military strategy will let you down most seriously. This is the branch of the game in which my views are least likely to be disputed. It is quite true that correspondence-chess methods cannot be profitably applied to cross-board chess in general, but correspondence chess does teach us a lot about basic chess theory.

In cross-board chess we have to strike a compromise between pure theory and practical politics. It does not pay to ponder deeply on a search for the perfect move in all positions, as many champions do to their cost -they know it is unwise, but get bogged down in such cogitations in spite of it-but it does pay to be invariably alert for tactical resources-more simply, moves that contain strong threats.

Formerly, I always put the advice in the form "Always be on the lookout for combinations." The difficulty with that term is that agreement has never been reached, and will never be reached, as to just what

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kinds of series of threatening moves merit the designation. There will always be borderline cases, but a series of threatening moves may be decisive whether all authorities are willing to call it a combination or not.

In other words, my emphasis is henceforth on threats, which are the component parts of combinations, rather than on combinations, since this is a controversial term.

That is the general answer to the following valued letter from Mr. Max Salm, whose opinions-as one of the world's best correspondence players-can never be treated lightly.

In the course of the letter we make interpolations, answering the points seriatim rather than en bloc.

Mr. Salm fails to see eye to eye with me mainly because I have not previously explained my new viewpoint fully. In spite of that, his letter is opportune, since argument is more instructive than monologue.

Dear Cecil, I suppose you are inviting comment

on your articles on threats even if you are too busy to answer!

Actually the term "combination" is not really defined. Your "definition" only describes what each move is, that is, a threat. Often in games we have a series of moves which presents the opponent at every turn of move with a threat that requires answering until ultimately one threat leaves the opponent without adequate counter. Is this a combination? It could be only middlegame play, or could even start right from the opening itself, and yet by no stretch of the imagination lead one into describing it as a "combination." But it does meet the requirements of your "combination."

All this has been answered above. If

you define a combination in a way narrow enough to suit all views, you will exclude some kinds of forcing lines composed of threats, just as important to see in actual play, but too humdrum to most players' notions to be called combinations.

If you see all moves containing threats, you will inevitably see all combinationshowever widely or narrowly you define a combination. So I am no longer vitally concerned with the endless controversy as to what is or is not a combination.

Mter saying "it is reasonable to class 2Jigzwang as combinative," how can you leave it out of your definition. If one does accept your position that it is unique, what then do you call 2Jlgzwang?

While it is "reasonable" to class the production of zugzwang as a kind of combination, few writers do so, and I think it is more helpful not to. In actual play, thinking about such a wide concept as combinations might help you to see you could produce a zugzwang, but thinking about zugzwangwould be a surer help; and the clue would consist in noticing an already existent limitation of moves. What do I call zugzwang? Just zugzwang. If it is unique, it cannot be classified.

There are also drawing combinations {with stalemate as the ultimate) which are not covered by your definition of a threat; for a draw is not damaging to one's game, even if it could be to one's ego. This aspect you do not consider-perhaps you doubt their existence altogether.

The execution of a threat to draw would always be damaging to a superior position. If a player in an inferior position notices that his opponent is "threatening" to draw, it is up to him to decide whether it is a threat or not. Supposing him to be much the stron-

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ger player, confident of winning even from his inferior position, he could regard the threat as real and part of the combination which, from his viewpoint, would be a sound one. Otherwise it would be an unreal threat or non-threat, and part of an unsound combination. There are plenty of spectacular series of moves that look like combinations, only they lead to bad results. One can only call these "unsound combinations." They consist wholly or partly of unreal threats. Theoretical writing cannot treat blunders as combinations.

In your definition of a threat, the word "damaging" is very vague. One could lose a pawn, and this would be damaging to one's game but it would not necessarily mean the loss of the game, for in many types of endings a pawn minus is not fatal. Then positionally what is damaging to one player may not be deemed so to another type of player {Crow!, for instance!)

Individual idiosyncrasies cannot concern a theorist. A player in his own game may consider some fancied threat to be real, i.e., damaging. If an annotator subsequently can show that, for chess players in general, it would not have been damaging even if executed, then that is the truth for players in general, which is all that can concern a writer. One can go further-it might pay a player, over the board, to prevent something rather than spend a long time wondering if he ought to or not. Writing purely objectively amounts to treating every position as in correspondence chess.

But the point is not of practical importance. In any situation in actual play, it rests with the player to decide whether something would be damaging.

Another thing, all threats are real, that

is, capable of being executed. The point at issue is whether they are profitable or not. An unreal threat just does not exist!

Exactly! An unreal threat is not a threat. It looks as if it might be a threat atfrrst, or to some players all the time, but it is not a threat. But it is convenient to speak of an unreal threat, just as it is convenient to speak of imitation pearls. An unprofitable threat by my definition cannot exist. To be real, i.e., to exist, it must be damaging to the opponent and therefore profitable to the threatener.

A Little Problem

In the opening, say after 1. e4 e5, can we say Black is "threatening" to develop a piece? No, if both sides make developing moves with nothing else involved, we have merely a see-saw. Neither side is "gaining ground" -please read again the second paragraph of this article. Threats are concerned with upsetting the balance, e.g., getting "the two Bishops," forcing a weakening move, gaining a tempo, winning a .ft , and so forth.

"How to Win"

The cover caption "How to Win" refers to this whole series rather than this one article. The brass tacks are to come later.

Students must remember we are on to new ground in chess literature, and plenty of justification is needed for breaking with tradition. Most of what has been written on combinations is based primarily on Emanuel Lasker's pioneer work, and secondarily on my own amplifications and divergences over the years 1932-55. There has been very little other original work. So, although it appears to many that I am challenging other writers' opinions, what I am mainly doing is developing my own-and this automatically involves disagreeing with writers who have accepted my earlier ones.

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EVERY MOVE IS PARTLY WEAKENING! "Except the mating move, there is no move which does not weaken some part of a

position."-Tarrasch. Of all the pronouncements of Dr. Tarrasch, "the man who taught Europe chess," the

one just quoted has always impressed me the most. It is not often that one can lay down a rule without an exception, or what amounts to the same thing-with only one exception, and that clear-cut.

Moreover, Tarrasch's dictum is one that is worth bearing in mind at every move in every game you play.

Every move you make, however strong it may be, robs something of protection; perhaps a piece or ft , perhaps some squares, or perhaps only one square.

Tarrasch's exception can be extended slightly. Not only the mating move, but every move in a combination leading to a forced mate in every variation can be excepted; or, if you like, any "weakening" effect is purely academic. This exception is not important to remember. After all, "strengthening" and "weakening" are useful in practice only as positional terms, and have validity only if there is no forcing line (combination) to supersede them in any particular position.

Whatever is weakened, it is most important to see before you move whether the weakening is serious. In many cases, it will not be; e.g., a � moved from captivity at all a8 onto an open file moves away from its protection of the a- .ft. , but usually this will be a matter not worth bothering about. All the same, you should investigate; it might conceivably be quite serious or even disastrous, as in this position, C. Purdy-Awdiew, Melbourne 1956-57.

After I 0. 0-0

Here Black played the plausible development move 10 ••• ReS?, when 11. Nb5 gave White a big advantage ( 11 ... RaB 12. Nd6).

The weakening caused by the move of

a piece is temporary; the weakening caused by the move of a .ft. is permanent.

But a "temporary" weakening may be of more importance than a permanent one, e.g., a � may vacate the back rank and allow a mate in one. Combinations usually take advantage of temporary and permanent weaknesses at the same time.

The conception that every move is partly weakening helps us to understand Nimzovich's dictum:

"There is no such thing as an absolutely freeing move."

In other words, an opponent with a cramped game must aim at some freeing move or other, but that freeing move can

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always be utilized by the opponent for his own benefit to some extent. It follows that Znosko-Borovsky's dictum that a proper way to proceed against a cramped game is to prevent freeing moves is not quite exact. One should say not "prevent," but "provide against."

That wording includes either direct prevention or what Nimzovich calls, for want of a better term, "prophylactic" play.

To make this clear, let us examine an example from a game between two A-grade club players in Sydney.

White to play.

White has an immensely superior position; Black is very cramped. Apparently White noticed that Black might free his game slightly if permitted to play .. . b5. This induced him, on the strength of ZnoskoBorovsky's dictum mentioned above, to play the absolute preventive move a4!?

Now, such a move is really a concession to the enemy. White interrupts his development to make a move that is in its nature weakening. Before doing such a thing, one should look for a move which may be of a generally helpful nature and which, while allowing the "freeing" move, provides for some means of taking advantage of it.

If such a move can be found, the opponent will probably be deterred from making the "freeing" move, and the effect will therefore be the same as if you had made

the absolute preventive move, only that you will have strengthened your position instead of weakening it.

In this case, any developing move will do for White, e.g., 1. Racl (the most natural) . For if 7 . . . b5, then 2. cxb5 cxb5 3. a4!

Here a4 comes in as an attacking move instead of a preventive one. After 3 .. . bxa4 (forced) 4. Nxa4 many lines are opened up, and all White's pieces blossom out. This . .. b5 proves itself most decidedly "not an absolute freeing move."

Another example occurred a little later. The play went:

1. a4 Re8 2. c5

Not consistent; better on the previous move, if done at all. Better now to omit it, as it releases the pressure on the point d5, and thus makes it possible for Black to manage the freeing move . .. e5. We should have preferred 2. h3, providing a safe place for the valuable �-A if threatened with exchange by . .. Nh5.

It may be objected, "But isn't h3 seriously weakening?"

When the opponent has castled on the �-side, no; the weakening effect of h3 is then very slight, and the move provides a useful escape for the � later on.

True, ... Nh5 could be answered by Bd6, but then Black could force an exchange and free his game slightly by . . . dxc4 Bxc4 Nb6. Exchanges, especially of a mobile ,il, should be avoided, as a rule, when the opponent is seriously cramped.

2. . . . Nf8 And now White made another preven

tive move, 3. a5!?

This certainly prevents Black from ever moving his b- ft . But such a move is not worth preventing, since it would weaken Black more than it would free him. However, the freeing move that Black really

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wants to play, and can enforce, is ... e5 (routine in such positions) .

Visualizing ... e5 played, White should see that he will have to play dxe5. This will partly open the cl-file. Therefore it will be helpful for him when that time comes to have a t! on the file. Therefore, far superior to 3. a5 would be 3. Rfd1!

Once again we come back to the value of simple development. Don't leave t!s undeveloped merely because there are as yet no open files!

The game proceeded thus: 3. . . . N6d7 4. Bd6

Necessary to defend the c- ft after what is coming.

4. 5. dxe5 6. Be2 7. Bxf3 8. e4!

e5 Nxe5 Nxf3t Nd7

A nice ft sacrifice, the only way to keep the initiative. With 8 . . . Bxc3 Black can win a ft , but will have a very difficult game because of the deplorable weakness of his dark squares. But White's game would be much better if he already had a t! on dl. Black's position in the diagram was so poor that he should never have been allowed to get as playable a game as he now has.

White's ft moves are to blame. Besides losing time, they prevented a break-

through on the Y;¥-side at any stage by b4, a4, and b5.

And these preventive moves were reasonably in accord with Znosko-Borovsky's advice. That advice is valuable, yet inexactly worded.

We repeat: one should not always prevent freeing moves. Provide for them: but absolute prevention may be bad if the preventive move is not otherwise useful.

Hint: Playing Over Games Playing over annotated games is the

best cheap way to improve at chess, but only if you cover the moves. Get a card and cut in it an aperture about as long and wide as a printed move of one side of a game. When you have decided what you would play and wish to compare your move with the text, slide the card down until the move shows. Then, after making a comparison, slide the card across until the other side's move shows. Don't ponder in advance about both side's moves-only one side's.

If you like, you can keep a record of the number of moves you get the same as in the text and watch it rise. It won't rise evenly, as some games contain many obvious moves-others not. But if you take an average over ten games, your average for the next ten games will be higher. And so on.

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NOTES ON PLANNING IN CHESS Planning in chess is hard because you can seldom be sure you are choosing the best

plan. The soundness or unsoundness of a combination is a matter of sheer calculation, even though in actual practice it is not always feasible to take the necessary time. In that case, you decide either not to risk the combination or else to take a chance; in other words, it's yes or no-not a case of comparing one possible combination with another, for it is not often you have a choice of combinations.

With planning, however, there are usually alternatives, and comparison is a matter of shades.

Don't Always Plan It is most important to realize that plan

ning and position play-more or less synonymous-are concerned with positions in which:

(a) you are not called upon to parry threats, and

(b) you cannot make a good forcing move of your own.

By a good forcing move, I mean a move that forces the opponent to make a reply which at least incommodes him in some way. The value of a threat is not to be measured by its target, but by the extent to which it inconveniences the opponent, e.g., a threat to win the ¥/1 may be parried by a mating combination, whereas a threat to win a ft may be decisive because there is no good reply.

If there is a "good forcing move" available, it is probably the best move on the board, or, at any rate, the only move likely to be better is another forcing move.

Therefore, do not waste time planning until you have first combed the board for good forcing moves-whether these are always capable of being described as combinations is only a matter of definition, and does not matter much.

How can I explain how vital this is?

Everybody has seen tennis played, and can see how absurd it would be for a player, all set to make a kill at the net, to put the ball tamely back into play. Yet in tennis he would only throw away one sure point each time he did it, whereas in chess he is often throwing away his chance of winning the game.

The search for good forcing moves involves looking at all forcing moves. These comprise all checks, all captures, and all threatening moves. A check is only one kind of threatening move, but so compelling in its very nature that it is best looked at separately. However, remember that you can check a ¥/1, a <tJ, or anything-the opponent may not be compelled by law to evade the check, but may be compelled in his own interests. And remember that most forcing moves are silly because the opponent has an excellent answer; but the occasional good forcing move is so valuable that the search must never be neglected.

So, after all, the main thing about planning is to avoid planning when there is something better.

However, planning is important, because most positions in chess are of a kind where both (a) and (b) apply, and although nothing very much can be done with them, it is important to do what little can be done to ;'our advantage or to do nothing to your

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disadvantage. Master chess is much concerned with

fine shades of position, but for players below that class, even very good players only a little below it, it is a mistake to waste too much clock time on them; the players will do better to conserve the time for positions in which calculation af forcing lines is compulsory, since Hanks' dictum that most games are won and lost on tactical oversights is truly absolutely beyond doubt.

Hanks' Theory I once queried the oft-made assertion

that even a bad plan is better than no plan. My reasoning was that a strong player, once he forms a plan, may induce himself to play moves that violate elementary principles, whereas if he just compared the merits of the several moves that looked feasible, he would be less likely to select a really bad one.

For illustration I quoted the game Lazare-J. Purdy, Perth 1954-55, in which]. Purdy, an excellent tactician but at that time a poor strategist-which shows the relative importance of strategy and tactics, since he was able to win the Australian Championship, which a poor tactician could never do-evolved a plan which was so bad as to do little credit to a certified lunatic. This plan changed his position from a level one to a losing one, without any assistance from his opponent -it so happened that his opponent did not reap his reward, and finally lost, but that is no argument for bad plans.

John Hanks put up the counter-argument that a plan is of some use even if a bad plan, since it reduces the possibility of tactical oversights, and it is mainly tactical oversights that lose games-I fully agree. If, says Hanks, a player first determines on a certain strategical aim, good or bad, he will have fewer moves to consider than if he doesn't. The fewer moves he considers, the

fewer he has to check for possible combinative replies, and the smaller chance he has to make a blunder.

This reasoning is certainly valid for cross-board chess below a certain level, and possibly even for correspondence chess at a still lower level. It was certainly not valid for J. Purdy in the game cited; he would have done better, seeing that no forcing play was possible, to look for moves that would at least avoid weakening his position.

Short Plans Best The truth is that there is something in

both the opinions, and the problem is to evolve some way of reconciling them.

Choose a simple aim, one that requires extremely few moves and one that you feel quite sure cannot make your position worse.

Still better would be "extremely few and commonsense moves." If a plan requires for its execution any move or moves that look bad on principle, it nearly always means the plan is faulty. In my own games, I have had this brought home to me time and again, yet still have a tendency to hypnotize myself occasionally into making a move that has an attractive object, but which, if I could get outside the game for a few seconds, I would unhesitatingly say "could not possibly be good." Try to bring the cold blast of common sense onto any moves that are not combinative, i.e., nonforcing. Combinations have nothing whatever to do with common sense, but plans have. If you cannot make a forcing move, it almost always means that your opponent will have a wide choice of replies, and will therefore most likely be able to improve his position in some way. Therefore it is silly to think you can achieve anything much with a plan. If you can make the very slightest gain in

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position, you are doing very well, and you are not likely to do this with a move that looks bad on the face of it. Nearly all plan moves that look bad are bad-the exceptions are those which force the opponent to do something that is bad for him, and then they are essentially not plan moves, but combinative moves.

Masters proceed by a series of shortrange plans revised at every turn according to the opponent's play. In actual war, the plan must be the master; in chess, you can and must revise the plan at every move, especially when your opponent makes a move you have not expected. It would actually be an advantage in war for a commander-in-chief to be able to change his plan with lightning rapidity, but it just cannot be done-large bodies of men take time to move, ships in one ocean cannot flit to another like jet planes, and great organization is involved even in changing an air campaign. In chess, on the contrary, each player moves in turn; until your move is made, the opponent can do nothing. It should be obvious that your opponent's move will often change the position in such a way as to make it wrong to continue with your plan, and you must invariably look to see if this has happened. A plan in chess is something to guide you in making the one move you have a right to make before the opponent's next move, and perhaps, but not necessarily, later moves.

Confirmation by Lasker This advice seems so contrary to what

many players have read that I will once again quote Emanuel Lasker: the evidence that he knew something about planning is that he was World Champion for 27 years and was the world's best tournament player for even longer. Lasker was criticizing some remarks by Reti which gave the idea that a single strategical plan could be followed

almost right through a game. Lasker says:

Reti's explanations, wherever they are concerned with analysis which covers a few moves, are correct and praiseworthy. As yet, nobody has been able to do much more than . . . conceive plans as the game proceeded. The reader of Reti's remarks is led to think that an altogether new and profound strategy has recently arisen and is probably tempted to cast very deep strategical plans.... He is in danger of losing his sound judgment.

Reti was correct, insofar as some particular motif may persist right throughout a game; e.g., after 4 . . . dxc6 in the Ruy Lopez, White's three �-side fts hold Black's four, and White knows that ifhe can ever bring about a .ft. ending without this factor disappearing, his majority on the 'it'-side should win. This will make White hanker after exchanging pieces, but will at all times be only one factor in his calculations; at times, other factors may completely override it; White must still proceed by short-term plans, and must be ready to discard even these if he has to meet threats or if opportunities for something better crop up.

Quick Rule for Plans I have found a certain rough-and-ready

rule extremely serviceable in choosing an aim for a plan. It would be still more serviceable to players of less experience, who often cast about quite vainly for a strategical aim in "quiet" positions and end up by doing any old move. This rule is:

Look for your least active piece or pieces, and then look for a plan to make them active.

A plan really involves two things: ( 1 ) an aim, and

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(2) a series of moves for carrying it out-and by a series, I mean a series of moves of one side only, regardless for the moment of possible intervening replies.

For example, you have started with a Stonewall and have fts at c3, d4, e3, f4. Your development is in a sense complete, but your .Q,/d2, very inactive and quite unable to take part at present in any w-side assault, which is therefore likely to be futile, being a piece short. A good plan in such a situation would have the aim of bringing this .Q, to life, and the moves envisaged would be Be1-h4.

Naturally, before deciding on Be1 as your next move you would comb the board for possible strong replies, but, if you found none, you could conclude that the plan seemed at least not a bad one. Another player, perhaps imaginative but untaught, might waste a lot of time working out a plan involving the advance of the w-side fts, which might or might not be good. The taught player would know that even if good, it could not be very good, and that it might be very bad since it would involve the weakening of the attacker's W, and why should not this lose rather than win?

Here is an example-honestly taken at random, for if my rule is any good it should apply in most positions that one could come across, except of course those in which (a) or (b) fails to apply; again see above if you have forgotten what (a) and (b) are, as they are about the most important things in the article.

Reshevsky

Euwe (after 2 1 . Rdc I )

The first thing we are called upon to decide is whether c5 is a threat. The answer seems to be no, as . . . Rd5 would be a good counter. It is easy to see that Black has no good forcing move. In short, (a) and (b) apply, and Black can think up a plan. Following my rule, we note that two black pieces are inactive; the ¥11-l':'i cannot become active till the otJ becomes active. So a good aim for Black is to get his otJ out. The only way to do so in one move is by 21 ... Ne7, as 22 ... Nb6 is "potassium cyanide."

However, if it weren't for the fork, clearly the otl would be much more effective on b6, as he would be tying up a hostile 1':'i . So can we make a preparatory move which would rule the fork out? The obvious attempt is 21 . . . c5. This we have to examine for forcing replies, but the only forcing reply would be 22. bxc6 e.p., which brings Black's 1':'i to bear on the weak ft and is therefore to be welcomed, not feared.

Thus, our plan will consist of the moves . .. c5 and .. . Nb6. Where to from there? is a question that most players tend to ask. An expert does not worry too much about the future. In a quiet position, if he can effect a slight improvement in his position he is doing the most that can in reason be expected, and looking further ahead than necessary is waste of time. The expert is not usually concerned with what he is actually

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His Writings

going to do with a good position in the future. Enough for him to get the good position, and he knows that it will lead to something; what the something turns out to be will depend partly on his opponent's moves, and he does not care much what these are once he makes sure the opponent has no good forcing moves.

If Quick Rule Fails

If my quick rule turns out to be inadequate in any given situation, as it quite often will, apply the rules given on p. 77 of Guide to Good Chess, i.e., "List of possible weaknesses and the normal way of taking advantage of them," "List of enemy strengths and normal ways of removing them," followed by formulation of a plan which does some or all of the following things:

( 1 ) exploits enemy weakness(es), (2) removes enemy strength(s), (3) removes your own weakness(es), (4) establishes your strength(s).

Circumstances will guide you as to which and how many of the four things it will be wise to attempt-usually you can do only one or two at a time.

Need Not Be Sure of Success One thing I have often written about

plans is that the aim envisaged ought to be a feasible one, as striving after an unattainable object means wastage. This is true of an objective that is absolutely attainable; but if, in order to make it unattainable, the opponent must weaken his position, then your plan may be perfectly correct. The first example that strikes me will do-a simple one from Foster-Bachtiar, Sydney 1958-59.

After 1 3 . . . Qg6

Here a certain aim for White shrieks aloud, namely to put a third attacker on the pinned ft . Foster mistakenly did it with 14. g4?, a move that looks bad at first glance, and therefore probably is (it lost the game). The obvious and correct plan consists of the moves Re 1-eS, and the mere fact that Black can make the objective unattainable by 14 .. . d6(in reply to 14. Rft1} is of no importance, for ... d6is a weakening move which permits the forcing move 15. Re6, giving White a winning position in another way. Black could also upset the plan by 14 . . . h6, but this also loses-not because it creates a new weakness, but rather because White's 14. Rfe1 has created new strength; it gives the new possibility of Be7, which results in White's obtaining altogether too strong a position.

Most plans are like this. Plans that are longer than two moves are all the more easily upset, and the only question is whether the upsetting moves still allow the opponent some good continuation other than the one planned.

You cannot always see whether your opponent has a good way of upsetting your plan or not. What you can see is whether the initial move or moves of your plan are of a strengthening kind or a weakening kind. If the former, your plan is almost certain to do you no harm-provided you are not creating some temporary accidental feature which permits a combination (this is

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somewhat different from a move which is in its nature weakening, like g4). If the latter, it is odds-on that your plan is crazy. And it is well to remember that the vast majority of plans made in chess are crazy by master standard. They are evolved from a player's inner consciousness rather than from the position on the board.

Much the best advice for planning is, keep your feet on the ground. An ambitious plan is absurd, except with an already won game, for it is not in the nature of plans to achieve major gains.

Replies Must Be Considered In the case before us White's position

is greatly superior, so that a small gain should mean an outright win. The initial 14. Rfe 1 is so strong as to fall on the borderline between a plan move and a forcing move. It

is only reasonable to expect such borderline moves, for it is not in the nature of chess moves to fit into pigeonholes. Nor is it possible ever to play chess without considering possible replies. Although the series of moves you envisage as your plan is a series of moves on your side only, you must not embark on them before considering possible replies to the initial move. Your plan is just a sort of working hypothesis. However, do not make the mistake of considering all possible replies. Only the ones that can be classed as forcing moves need calculation; replies that are pressing but not forcing can do with attention in advance, but it is not a case of absolute necessity, whereas to overlook a good forcing move may at any time spell disaster, even though before you moved your position was overwhelming.

THE PURDY MYSTIQUE

In August 1996 we published one of the best books ever written on chess instruction! We know it's good because it went through 10 printings before our 1 1th! Our version has been reformatted and converted to algebraic notation. No. 1 in our Gold Series.

Yes, inside you will find the same lucid writing as in this book. Excellent examples, tips, small lists of things to remember, and a much more readable book than was available in the earlier Australian editions.

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His Writings

AIDS TO SEEING COMBINATIONS The most important thing in chess is to see combinations-and by combinations, I

mean anything from the simplest lt fork up to the grandest Alekhine sacrifice. The problem of how to see combinations is really two problems. Problem 1: to become familiar with the many types of combination. Problem 2: to see them consistently in actual play. Problem 1 is that of all beginners, but also of students who have concentrated on the

positional side of the game, and are therefore prone to blunder. Dr. Emanuel Lasker first tackled it in his "Lehrbuch" in 1925 (Manual, 1927). It was he who first discovered a logical method of classifying combinations. Mason, in his Art of Chess ( 1898), gave 177 exercises in combination, very good practice for good players. But there was no attempt to classify, and no explanatory matter.

Since Emanuel Lasker, the real thinker and pioneer, there have been many other books dealing with the subject, e.g., Znosko-Borovsky's Art of Chess Combination with about 70,000 words and 200 examples.

Spielmann's Art of Sacrifice is perhaps the most interesting of all books on combination, but it is just a collection of games in which combinations occur.

For the purpose of Problem 1, books with a great number of examples are best; above all, Reinfeld's 7001 Winning Chess Sacrifices and Combinations.

Why We Siip Problem 1 is mainly a question of giv

ing plenty of exercises for the student to practice on. Our space can be much more advantageously devoted to Problem 2, which has never been tackled seriously except by the present writer. It is the problem of all players-not only beginners and over-theoretical students, but even masters.

For we all miss combinations that we are capable of seeing. The tyro is capable of seeing forks one move deep, yet he sometimes misses them. Masters are capable of seeing any combination at all, yet they often miss them, and sometimes quite elementary ones. All players have had to ask themselves, "How on earth can I have missed that?"

We miss combinations that we ought not to miss simply because we look for them in a more or less haphazard way. In

business, oversights are avoided by system and method. In chess, system and method will not enable a beginner to play like a master, but what they will do is to help every player to be consistent. Not one player in the world is 100% consistent.

Primary Rule First and foremost, you must get used

to forcing yourself to:

Look around for combinations for yourself at every move; and before playing any move, visualize the whole position with that move made, and then look around for combinations for your opponent.

Winter, in his Chess for Match Players, deliberately contradicts this advice, which I first published in 1930, saying that it is impossible to carry out. The context shows

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that he is confusing the process of looking for combinations with that of working combinations out! As Winter himself says, a glance is sometimes sufficient to tell a strong player that no sound combination can be on. But woe betide him if he forgets to glance!

My 1 93 1 System But a glance is not always enough,

especially for players below master class; and even a good "look around" is comparatively useless in complicated positions if done only vaguely.

The search should be made systematically. In 1930 and 1931, I gave a system for finding combinations based on the classification of combinations given in Lasker's Manual. I quote the following from p. 275 of the Australasian Chess Review of December 1931.

Question 8. Have I a sound and correct combination? To help in answering this, look for the presence of the following motifs.

1. Geometrical motif (pieces on the same line, pins, pieces liable to a fork, loose pieces, etc.).

2. Motif of confined pieces, including castled King.

3. Motif of function. See if any piece is burdened with more than one defensive task.

The next three motifs are endgame motifs.

4. Pawn promotion. 5. Zugzwang. 6. Stalemate.

The System's Fault

For such a young writer, it was prudent to pay such heed to Lasker's classification-

also adopted in the main by his successors, with a few changes in terminology.

My method was an attempt to make practical use of a ready-made theory.

However, I realized later that the method does not carry out its main purpose with maximum efficiency.

That purpose is:

To break down the power of illusion.

Purdy

C.L.R. Boyce (after 3. Nexd4)

The position diagrammed occurred in the Australian Championship in 1926. Previously, Black's b- ft was on b5, he had a '£) on d4, and White's '£) was on c3.

Correctly thinking that the combination must be good, but without working it out fully, I played in the previous position just described 1. .. b4 2. Ne2 b3! Then came 3. Nxd4 (forced), and we have Diagram 1 .

Here I had intended 3 .. . bxa2! 4. Nb3 RbB 5. Na1. But I was now unable to see how the combination could be followed up. I should only have two fts for the piece, and, as I thought, not much of an attack. So, choosing what I thought the lesser evil, I wrote the ft off and retook the '£) (3 ••• Qxd4) with a very inferior game.

The late G. Gundersen, then chess editor of the Australasian, pointed out a forced win by the very pretty pseudo-sacrifice of the ¥11 after 5. Na1, by 5 . . . Qs3!!

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His Writings

This forces 6. Kd1 Rxb2 7. Ke2 Rh 1 8. Rdd1, when 8 ... f!!a 1 wins.

That calculation would not be necessary. One would only have to look for a second at the one move 5 ... �3 to perceive its obvious merit. But even the simple combinations are sometimes hard to see a few moves ahead. The point is, what rule could I have followed, if any, which would have made it easier to see 5 . . . �3 on Move 3?

The motif is that of "function" (Lasker) or "overload" (Euwe). The white b- .ft. has the "function" of blocking the b-file against .. . Rb1#.

But telling a player to look for units with defensive "functions" or "loads" is rather like telling a man to look out for all fences that have bulls on his side of them. It would be much better for him to keep his eyes skinned for the bulls themselves.

In order to see that the b- .ft. had the function of preventing mate, I must first see that mate. Therefore, it would be better to look for the mate first. With the mate once seen, the possibility of either .. . Qg3? or .. . �3!would suggest itself automatically.

The mate is hard to see because of the power of illusion. We find it terribly hard to look at moves that involve jumping over pieces. Such moves are the real motifs of innumerable combinations.

New System The moves of this sort that matter most

are mates, because they give rise to the most amazing sacrifices and pseudo-sacrifices, which are very hard to see. But strong checks are nearly as important.

Any good player looks at all reasonable checks on the board, but I maintain that by carrying this policy much further, most of us could reduce our output of blunders enormously.

The rule might be put thus:

In any position you are considering, present or future, look around for all possible checks (however absurd-looking); also all checks-and above al� mates-that would be possible if every piece could jump over anything in its way and could not be captured.

Shortened form:

In any position, present or future, look around for all possible checks, all jumpchecks, and particularly all jump-mates.

Nearly all combinations that cannot be found with the check, jump-check, and jumpmate rule will be amenable to the following:

In any position, present or future, look around for all possible captures and jumpcaptures.

A jump-capture of the ¥11, for instance, may be as important to see as a jump-mate . But, in general, it is not so important to look at jump-captures as to look at possible captures that have an illusion of impossibilityfor instance, a ¥11 giving itself up for a .ft. , the prelude to many mating nets.

Needless to say, the application of these rules involves looking at many moves that not only look absurd, but are. However, every such move can be dismissed in a fraction of a second, so that the total wastage of time is infinitesimal. It is compensated for many times over by the discovery of moves that look absurd and are not!

I now give several other examples which will illustrate the practical advantages of my 1938 rules over my 1931 rules. I have selected mostly positions in which oversights actually were made, usually by myself.

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Missed by Hundreds Diagram 2 shows a position from a

game in the Steiner Invitation Tourney, Sydney 1937.

Black to play

In the game, I correctly played 1. .. ()6, but afterwards, both in the A. C.R. and Chess, I suggested 7 .. .f6, challenging the White .ft center. Nobody wrote to either magazine about this, so it is a fair inference that many hundreds of readers failed to see the flaw, which was pointed out by Steiner himself in ChessReview (U.S.A.). Now, years later, with the standard of play higher, a great many readers would see the slip, but still many hundreds would miss it.

In answer to 7 ... [6, White would simply play 2. Nxd5! The combination is not devastating, but Black's nice position in the center is spoilt, and White obtains an advantage in all variations. The variations do not matter just now. The point is that any player would merely need to look at this single move, 2. Nxd5!, to see that it was worth examination, since the � cannot be taken. The trouble is that our eyes are just not conditioned to rest on such moves. The d- .ft has the illusion of being supported, and we are bluffed.

If we apply my 1931 rules and look for forks, we may see that the black � and ¥f1-El lie on intersecting lines, but the fact is comparatively obscure; and if we are going to look at everything on intersecting lines,

we shall lose ourselves in Euclidean nightmares. Again, we might very well observe that the black c- .ft had the function of guarding the d- .ft , but that abstract truth would not necessarily suggest a combination to an inexperienced player.

But if we force ourselves to look at all captures, that is, visualize them actually made on the board before us, then we cannot fail to consider 7. Nxd5!, and that is as far as any mechanical rule can take us. The rest is up to our judgment and calculation.

Master's Oversight Diagram 3 is from an old game, Pod

horzer-L. Steiner, Vienna 1938.

3

After 2 1 ... Qxd4

Podhorzer played 22. Rdl? He had overlooked the combination. 22 ••• Qxdl t! 23. Nxdl Rxdl t 24. Kh2 Bb5.

This locks up the white Yf!. It was a comparatively difficult combi

nation to see. On my 1931 rules, it might be suggested by the motif of a confined piece, the white Yf!, but in the diagrammed position the white ¥t1 does not look confined at all. She only becomes so after the sacrifice, and what we want is something that will make us think of the sacrifice.

I cannot find any better chance of seeing the combination than the rule of considering all captures. Had Podhorzer, before playing 22. Rd7, seriously visualized the move .. . Q3d7 f, he would have had to carry

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His Writings

on with the forced moves given above, and could hardly have failed to see merit in the combination. Mter all, the sacrifice is a small one, about equivalent to the Exchange. And Black would have to lose at least one ft , anyway, if he withdrew his Y/1. Further, by making the sacrifice Black gains time instead of losing it-a net difference of two clear tempi.

An interesting point is that this combination does not readily fall into any of Lasker's pigeonholes-or any other author's. It is not exactly based on the "encircling motif," for the white Y/1 cannot be won, nor yet is it a "desperado" combination. Fundamentally, it is just a sacrifice of material to save time. But it does not matter what sort of combination it is, if only you can see it.

A jump-Check Diagram 4 shows a position from an

old correspondence game ( 1937).

G.F. Mclntosh

C.j.S. Purdy White to play

It would be bad to accept the offered 4). Black threatens ... Bxc3, etc. The obvious move is 1. e4, and this would almost certainly have saved the game. Thinking to "consolidate," however, I posted "1. Qb3, and if 1 ... Bxc3, 2. bxc3."

Black, of course, accepted the conditional, and then played 2 ... Qb5t!, which

wins easily. In the diagrammed position, White had

failed to look at this check simply because of the illusory effect of the A on e5. Once the check is seen, the necessity to look into it is obvious, for it is not a sacrifice, not even a pseudo-sacrifice. Had White followed the rule of looking at jump-checks (I had not invented it when this game was played), the oversight would have been impossible.

With a few alterations, Diagram 4 turns into Diagram 5, which is full of thrills.

Might You Miss lt?

White to play

In Diagram 5, Black has the same threat as in Diagram 4, but intensified, because the white r3;J has no flight square.

Now 1. e4?would be answered simply by 1 . . . Bxc3. Suppose with the same idea as in Diagram 4, White played 1. @3 (or Qg4)? Bxc3 2. bxc3. Then comes a very pretty move, 2 . . . @5!! Not a check, and the square is not supported this time, yet the move is devastating. Black must get the � on his a6.

With a flash of hope, White might look at 3. RxdBf RxdB 4. RaB!? And wins for White? Joy! Well, it does, except for the neat resource 4 . . . Oj8#.

Although pretty, 2 .. . @5 is comparatively easy to see because the mating threat is obvious, and a mating threat should lead you to expect even the wildest sacrifice.

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Anything can be given up for mate. Many players might come to the con

clusion that White's position in Diagram 5 was hopeless, as a preliminary exchange of :§ s still leaves the mating threat on.

And if 7. Rd5, still 7 ... Bxc3!This pseudosacrifice of the ¥11 is easy to find, by the rule of looking at all captures.

However, if White keeps his nerve and remembers to look for all jump-mates, he can not only save the game, but win it off hand! Thus: 1. RxdBf RxdB 2. Qj5!!

The first step in seeing this is to look at the jump-mate, RaB. Then you naturally look at the exchange of one pair of ;§s, which obviously brings the mate nearer. Then it is not a difficult step to 2. Qj5!! If a player could not find the combination this way, he would never find it.

An Absurd Fallacy Combinations by the player who is

apparently on the defensive, like 7. RxdBf and 2. Q,d5 in Diagram 5, are often missed

for two reasons. Firstly, having accepted the role of de

fender, a player tends to look only at defensive moves. Secondly, most of us are influenced by the utterly mad advice proffered by so many writers-even the great Emanuel Lasker-that it is useless to look for combinations until you have a positional advantage.

The fallacy is that you can only tell whether one side has a positional advantage by first making sure that there are no combinations.

It is correct to say as a general rule that one should not attack without an advantage, at least in that quarter of the board, but an attack usually involves a slow ft storm before any combination can start.

But a combination consists entirely of forcing moves, and a player can lay himself open to one at any time through an error, however overwhelming his position was before the error. That is what gives chess its biggest thrills.

THE PURDY GENIUS

Purdy was a bona-fide original thinker, explorer, and discoverer, like Richard Feynmann was in physics. Besides writing about and playing chess, he thought about chess, its origins, its rules, and its best games by its best players. Genius does what it wants, and it often suffers as a result, yet the internal reward must be worth it. This

book was written by a genius for budding geniuses of chess.

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His Writings

THE DUAL SOUL OF CHESS I have recently been emphasizing the combinative or tactical side of chess, rather

than the positional or strategical side. There are special "elements" in chess that belong to chess alone. It is these unique

characteristics of chess that give rise to combinations-things that have no counterpart in war or any other sphere, but are found in chess only.

I have emphasized, above all, that in reconnoitering a position one should always look for combinative possibilities before making a final judgment.

But more often than not, there are no combinative possibilities. In other words, such forcing moves as there are can be refuted with ease. Neither side has left itself vulnerable to a bolt from the blue.

In such positions, the player's problems are more like a general's problems in war, and more like the problems we encounter in our daily life. Chess combinations have no counterpart in war or life; they are picturesque, almost fantastic.

As I wrote long ago, it is as though two good fairies had cast their spells on Caissa at her birth. One, the spirit of universal truth; the other, the whimsical sprite of romance. Two kinds of beauty whose conflict and whose union are the soul of the game.

It is in such positions-the noncombinative ones-that Lasker's principles of struggle will guide us.

The fundamental principle of struggle is the maximum utilization of all your resources. In an article in Chess World of September 1956, I called it the Principle of Economy. Here, "economy" is used in a much wider sense than merely "parsimony."

We shall now see that all the big general principles of chess are just various aspects of the fundamental guiding principles, e.g., development in the opening, cooperation of forces, reserve the greater option, waste as little energy as possible on defense, an unsuccessful attack will recoil on the head of the attacker, choose only feasible aims or those which can be defeated only by some concession, e.g., a badly weakening move.

Development

The principle of development in the opening is only part of a wider principle that runs throughout the game: that it is better to employ an inactive unit rather than one already active.

For if you move an active piece, you only transfer him from one job to another; if you move an inactive piece into play, you must gain.

In the opening, especially right at the start, nearly all one's pieces are inactive, so

that the principle looms very large. It pays never to flout it unless you are sure you are right. Exceptions occur when there is some specific weakness which can be exploited only by a piece already in play, or you wish to save or gain material.

Cooperation of Forces By cooperation is meant not overlap

ping. Except for the purpose of attack on a single square, pieces accomplish most when they command most squares. That is why it

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is useful in the endgame to have your .fts on opposite-colored squares from that of your A. More squares are commanded, and the .fts do not obstruct the .Q.. It is also the reason why it is generally better to place your l==(s on two adjacent open files, rather than double on one file and leave the other unoccupied-adjacent because their force, while not overlapping, will be better concentrated than if they were a long way apart. It is also the reason why a ¥11 and 4J cooperate better than a ¥11 and a .Q.. The perfect partners are two As, for under no circumstances can they overlap.

This aspect of the principle of economy is clear. Overlapping is wasteful!-uneconomical.

Reserve the Greater Option The principle of reserving the greater

option is of tremendous importance. If you waste an option, you are losing something. Keep as many irons in the fire as possible.

The player who has the initiative cannot always exploit it by a direct attack; usually he has to build up new threats until the opponent is so hard pressed that he has to create permanent weaknesses. A wide choice of action is itself an advantage.

One reason that control of the center is so important is that it gives you the chance of transferring your attack from one part of the board to another.

Do not Over-Defend The principle of defense in all struggles

is to make the smallest possible concession. Thus, a skillful boxer tries to evade a blow by the slightest possible movement, so that he will be in a position to deliver a counter. Any defensive move at all is a concession to the opponent-a holding up of your own forward march. A player who persistently acts on the defensive when it is not necessary will gradually work himself into a posi-

tion that is indefensible. Thousands play this way.

Since the smallest possible concession must be made, it follows that you should, if possible, avoid any concession at all. In other words, always look for a way of ignoring a threat before you look for ways of parrying it.

Do Not Attack Unjustifiably

Attack must always be your goal, but it needs first a positional advantage, at least in the sector where you attack.

Unsuccessful effort means waste-a violation of the principle of economy-and must be punished. If you attack and fail, you will not be in the comfortable situation of being able to start afresh; you will inevitably have damaged your position, and will be vulnerable to a counterattack. Attack is never justified in a balanced position. We all know what happens to people who try to win drawn games. They are like a boy on a seesaw who tries to weigh the other boy down by giving a little jump in the air. The other boy outweighs him as soon as he jumps.

An attack must be distinguished from a combination. An attack involves a plan, usually starting with rather slow preparatory moves, and a combination may never occur in it, although usually it does at the end. If it involves slow preparatory moves, such as a pawnstorm, a big initial advantage is necessary or the loss of time will prove fatal.

But a combination, as I always emphasize, can arise at any time, however weak your position may be, through an opponent's blunder-to take a simple case, he may leave his � and ¥11 to be forked, though his position before the move was overwhelming.

Chess Is Logical, But . . .

Consequently, although chess may be a thoroughly logical game when boiled

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His Writings

down, you can't boil it down when actually playing, so it is of more practical use to see it as logic and romance in conflict. Be ready to adjust your mind to combinative possibilities at every turn. Do not, as Lasker did in a famous game in his 1921 match with Capablanca, allow your mind to become imbedded in "positional" channels. Think of the positional principles as operating only if combinative possibilities are "off."

It is this extraordinary conflict between purely chess principles (tactics) and the general principles of struggle that is one of the secrets of the game's fascination.

Choose Only Feasible Aims It is better to play with some aim than

no aim at all. But the ideal aim is one that is feasible. If you try for a too ambitious aim, you may by accident accomplish something smaller-but you may, on the other hand, spoil your game completely. It is all right to have a plan the opponent can upset, provided he can upset it only by damaging his position more than you damage yours by not accomplishing your aim.

Another exception occurs when you have a losing position. In such a position, it often pays to play unsoundly, for in any case you cannot save the game unless the opponent makes a mistake.

The commonest example of an unfeasible aim is an attack on a moveable object. Such an attack is justified if the aim is to gain time for some other purpose, but beginners often make it with the idea of actually winning the unit in question-which is ridiculous, unless there is a "net" combination afoot.

In general, one's aim should have to do with gaining command of squares. This is the least ambitious aim you can have, and therefore the most feasible. "Position play" is just a fight for squares.

Prophylactic Play

When you cannot prevent the enemy from doing something he wants to do, you have two alternatives. The first is counterattack; sometimes, however, counterattack is useless because the enemy's attack will get home first. The second is what Nimzovich calls "prophylaxis." You make a move which merely anticipates the threatened maneuver, with the idea of making that maneuver assist you as well as your opponent. For instance, if he threatens to open a file at present closed, you can place your El on that file. It is useless there just now, but if the opponent opens the file he automatically brings your El into play.

By "prophylacting" you may deter your opponent from executing his scheme, and may then proceed with your own "counterattack" at your leisure. Thus by prophylacting you can often wrest the initiative-an important Nimzovichian paradox.

So there is nothing bizarre about Nimzovich's ideas. They are only aspects of the fundamental principle of economy. You employ "prophylaxis" where both prevention and counterattack are uneconomical.

Conclusion It is vital to recognize that these prin

ciples are of practical assistance only outside the sphere of combinations. You must always have the two spheres of thought in your mind, and the combinative sphere first.

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HOW TO REDUCE OVERSIGHTS TO A MINIMUM

Main Cause of Slips What is the most important thing in practical chess? There can be only one answer:

avoid oversights. It is perhaps a defect in chess that a real chess connoisseur-one who has a good

knowledge of theory, appreciation of master strategy, and an insight into the true spirit of chess-is often defeated by a banal woodshifter, one whose understanding of the game is very limited, but who has acquired by years of club "skittling" a mechanical skill that enables him to play with consistent mediocrity.

The answer to this is that the connoisseur has other strings to his bow. In playing over the games of the masters he derives keen enjoyment; here he is like a music-lover listening to a master musician, while his friend the woodshifter listens to himself strumming on a guitar. But even in the realm of struggle, the connoisseur can find a suitable medium in correspondence play. Here he can beat the woodshifter, whose deficiencies are shown up when time is allowed for thought.

And even over the board, the connoisseur could do much better by following a few purely mechanical rules. The same applies to the young, ambitious student who has had more study than practice, and whose chess knowledge is always disappointingly better than his or her chess results. Perhaps it applies to almost all chess players.

In the next decade, somebody may succeed in programming an electronic computer to play a good game of chess. It will doubtless be inferior to human experts, but will occasionally beat them because most experts occasionally make bad blunders. The computer will play at a dead level of mediocrity, never below it. What a tremendous advantage it would be to any player if he could achieve such a degree of mental discipline as to combine a human brain's intuitions with a computer's consistency!

There are one to two must questions or, rather, mechanical operation about which there is no option if one is to make any attempt at all to avoid absurd slips.

The first is the search for the opponent's threat or threats. The second is the search for possible dangerous replies ("surprise moves") to a move

you are considering. This is usually carried out, but seldom properly. What is the proper way? To answer this, you have only to remember how often you

see your mistake after you have made your move-very often, the instant after. Well, then, the solution is: before playing a move, force yourself to visualize that

move made, and while visualizing it, cast your eye over every part of the board. All this time, you must see the position as it will be, not as it is. This requires effort.

Try doing it invariably, forcing yourself at move after move in game after game, until it becomes a habit.

Right from the start you will notice that your oversights decrease, especially the blatant ones. Your actual chess capacity will not improve, but the point is that all chess

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His Writings

players, from masters to beginners, tend to play below their full capacity because they make avoidable oversights-that is, oversights well within their capacity to avoid, and sometimes so bad that they can hardly believe they have made them. In chess, as in real life, the great number of things requiring attention makes oversights inevitable. In life, they can be reduced only by system and method. So in chess.

Purdy

L. Steiner (to move)

Here is an example of an oversight made by a master through failure to visualize. In this game, Steiner-Purdy, Sydney 1937 (invitation tourney), Black had just played ... c4. It seems obvious that Black's idea is to tempt White to take the a- ft and then trap the 4J. Can the 4J get out? That is the puzzle that Steiner must have busied himself with for about 15 minutes, and he finally satisfied himself that the 4J would not be lost, for he played-1. Nxa5? [Ed.: See Part 3, Game 10.}

All this time, Black had no intention at all of trying to entrap the 4:), and he now made the simple but effective reply 1 ... c3.

This at least wins a ft . White's mistake was that he made an

assumption. Had White simply visualized the position after 1. Nxa5, forgetting preconceived notions, and looked all over the board for possible surprise moves, he could

not have missed .. . c3. Nor could he have wasted valuable time on irrelevant calculations.

Second Cause of Slips So the cause of slips is the failure to

search properly for forceful replies the opponent might make to the move you are considering.

The other main cause of slips is the failure to search properly for threats in the move the opponent has just made. Yet another cause is the common habit of treating a threat in a defensive spirit. This sort of error does not lead to major blunders, but rather to missed opportunities.

So I divide this section into two parts: ( 1 ) the search for threats; and (2) the way to treat threats.

Search for Threats

A move may have an object without containing a threat. A threat may be defined as a move by which the opponent could harm you if it were now his turn to move.

As soon as the opponent has moved, comb the board for possible threats, looking first at all checks and captures, however fantastic.

Most of the moves you look at, you will see at a glance are not threats at all; but occasionally you will find that one of the moves that looks fantastic is a real threat, and thus avoid a terrible blunder.

Other moves may need quite a lot of calculation to discover whether they are real threats or not; in other words, whether, if it were the opponent's move and he played Bxd5f (say), it would ultimately be to your detriment or his.

In such calculations you may waste much time, because you are not allowing for your next move. You may have a very simple move which you want to play in any

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case, and which rules the threat out of court. Here our inquiry merges into the second part of the article, how to treat threats. For just now, let us state this rule:

When in your search for threats you come across a move which seems to require considerable calculation to discover if it is a threat or not, pigeonhole it in your mind and continue your search for other threats. When your search is over, mentally name all the moves (usually two at most) which you know are threats or which may be threats.

How to Treat Threats Let us examine the usual case, in which

there is only one threat. It may be a real threat, or you may not be sure; the treatment of it should be exactly the same! And that treatment should be:

Imagine the threats could not possibly be executed. Then what would be my best move? Try out each candidate separately; imagine the position as it would be after this move, and then (and only then) work out whether the opponent would gain by executing his "threat."

Why this particular treatment is right can be shown most clearly by an example.

Capablanca (to play)-Bogoljubov

At Carlsbad, 1929, Bogoljubov had just played 8 ... Nc5. Is either ... Nfxe4 or .. .Ncxe4

a real threat? That may require a little calculation, so don't let us bother to find out just yet.

Capablanca played now 9. Nbc3. He probably reasoned quickly somehow in this way: I don't care if ... N(f!c)xe4 is a threat or not, as there is an obvious developing move that I'm going to play in any case, and it rules out the capture.

That sounds very plausible, and thus, according to Znosko-Borovsky, Capablanca missed a chance of forcing a clear positional advantage. On the next move, Black played, of course, the routine ... a5, establishing the 4J on its good post. By imagining that whatever you do Black cannot reply with . . . N(f!c)xe4, you would surely examine 9. b4, forcing the 4J to go back, and thus showing 8 ... Nc5 as a loss of time. You then look at 9. b4 Ncxe4 and see at once that Black would lose a piece by f3.

Znosko-Borovsky published Capablanca's "miss" in a list of "Carlsbad Blunders." This was a decided exaggeration, as after b4Black, despite his deficiency in space, would have a fair chance of equalizing by opening the a-file. Still, it does seem that Capablanca missed a good move.

Another example: Suppose you were Black in a "simul," and the game opened thus: 1. e4 e6 2. d4 d5 3. Nc3 Bb4 4. e5 c5 5. Qg4. Many would bluff themselves into 5 . . . Kf8?or 5 ... g6?Certainly 0"g7is a very real threat, but you must first ignore it and consider such moves as 5... cxd4 and 5 ... Ne7.

The second of these can be proved sound by quite easy calculation (but not 5 ... cxd4? 6. 0"g7 dxc3 7. Kd1 !). After 5 ... Ne7, if 6. 0"g7?, .. . Rg8 7. 0-h 7 cxd4 with advantage to Black ( 8. a3 Bxc3f! 9. bxc3 Qs7).

Notice that calculation of moves can never be dispensed with. Chess cannot be played by rules alone; they merely help.

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His Writings

A GUIDING RULE FOR ENDGAMES Although as a general work on endgames there is nothing to equal Euwe and

Hooper's Guide to the Chess Endings, students ought not to dispense with the endgame section of Guide to Good Chess, as it is the only book, as far as I know, that gives the general principles of endgame play.

Reuben Fine, in his Chess the Easy Way, gave "ten rules for the ending," but some of them are rather vague, and important ones are left out. However, his sixth rule, "Do not place your pawns in the same color as your Bishop," is an important one omitted inadvertently from Guide to Good Chess.

The first and guiding rule for endgames in general, and the one this article is about, is stated nowhere but in Guide to Good Chess and in occasional articles in this magazine down the years. You will find that the masters of endgame play all follow it, but they must do it intuitively, i.e., on the basis of unconsciously formulated experience. For those who are not great masters and have no such intuition, the rule can be extremely helpful, and the only reason it does not appear in textbooks in general is that the writers themselves have never thought of it and have probably not read the Guide, perhaps thinking it too elementary.

The rule as stated in the Guide is:

Rule (1)-Before ever beginning to think of making a passed pawn, get all your pieces into as good positions as possible.

This presupposes that you do not already own a passed ft . If you do, the rule could have many exceptions. It might be advisable to rush the passed ft quickly, even though your pieces have not yet attained their best positions.

Where you are likely to get sidetracked in endgames is in excursions for winning material. Material is certainly important in endgames, and yet . . . I was reminded what a good rule this Rule ( 1) is when looking at the end of my game with Hay in Perth. In the position where he resigned because he would lose the Exchange, there was a possibility of a long and tedious struggle if White made what most players would consider the obvious moves. White to play

I am under no obligation to use the Purdy-Hay position, and to make it slightly

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harder for White to win, I have made a slight alteration in placing a black ft on hS instead of h7. In any case, Hay actually resigned two moves earlier.

If confronted with this diagram, I am sure the great majority of players below master class would quickly play 7. Rc8f Kh7 2. RaB, and even some masters might carelessly play it. True, it wins the a- ft , but it takes a very well placed E! momentarily out of play at a8, and Black can start good counterplay with 2 ... Rd3 3. R8xa7 Rxb3. If 4. Rb4, . . . Rd3 5. Bb2 Nd5 6. Re4 Rb3 and the road to victory still stretches for miles.

If White applies Rule ( 1 ) , the win is not startlingly easy, but it makes just that little difference that is all the difference.

How to apply the rule? White's E! s are already well situated, but White's A would be better on the long diagonal. Then again, Black has a threat, namely ... Nd4.

This suggests of course 1. Bb2! We quickly see that this leaves Black with no progressive reply. If the black E! leaves the seventh rank, then Bxf6 and Rxa 7 threatens mate. Or if 7 . . . Nd5, 2. Be5 places White in so dominating a position that the win is not in doubt. If Black plays the developing sort of move, 7 . . . Kj7, it is at least clear that 2. Rea 7 saves a move as compared with the originally obvious 7. RcBf, as the ft is won with only two E! moves instead of three.

Again, if 7 . . . Kh7 (so as to keep the � from check), White could afford to simplify by 2. Bxf6 gxf6 3. Rea l Kg6 4. Rxa7 Rd5 5. Rh 7 Rxb5 6. Ra6 Rxb3 7. Rbxb6, which forces the E! off and thus gives a slow but easy win.

The analysis is not very important. It is given only to prove what is fairly obvious. Since 7. Bb2 improves White's position without giving Black a chance to improve his, it must be a good move, whereas 7. Rc8-a8 only amounts to an exchange of fts.

And, as Fine succinctly observes:

To win, exchange off pieces; to draw, exchange off pawns.

In the example just above where we exchanged off the black .§ , we did it at the cost of swapping all the fts on the �-side. But it was worth it. It does not matter if a win is slow, if it is easy. With fts all on one wing, a ft up is usually not enough to win, but the Exchange up does win. The final winning coup is almost always to give up E! for piece and win a ft , producing a winning ft ending.

In a winning endgame, if it is not a question of racing as yet, do not be overanxious to "do something." The win won't run away. See first if you can apply Rule ( 1 ) , i.e., improve your position without giving the opponent a chance to improve his in any substantial way. Of course, if the opponent has threats, they must be looked after; but if the situation is "quiet," remember a winning position is a winning position, and you can keep it so. Don't jeopardize it by rushing to win weak fts. A weak ft can usually wait.

The reason for Rule ( 1 ) is that in the endgame there are very few pieces, and the fewer the pieces, the more important it is to get the most out of each one.

(This means, in general, getting them all into attacking types of positions. The � is often an exception. He is frequently better kept back to protect fts that might otherwise fall a prey to a marauding E! . It is mainly in minor-piece endings that the advice to rush the � out is mandatory.)

One final word. Why did I place the black ft on hS instead of h7? Had it been on h7, 7. Bb2 would still have been the best move, but the difference between it and the obvious play would have been less marked. However, the rule would have held just the same.

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His Writings

BRONSTEIN WINS WITH THE "ISOLATED d-PAWN" After starting to annotate Bronstein-Berger "briefly," I realized it would make quite

an article on the old "isolated d-pawn." Bronstein gives an excellent illustration of how the player with the "isolated d-pawn"

should conduct the attack. Berger does not give an equally good illustration of how to play against the "isolated d-pawn", so the annotator must fill in.

Just at present, "isolated d-pawn" theory rather leans toward the attacker. A proviso is that the attacker should be White. If it is Black who has the "isolated d-pawn", and if White has not lost a tempo somewhere, White's chances of emerging safely from the middle game and proving the "isolated d-pawn" weak in an endgame are pretty good. The odd tempo makes a big difference, so finely balanced are the chances. It follows that any lack of precision can spoil the attacking chances of the player with the "isolated cl-pawn", even though he opened with White.

Here, however, it is Black who lacks precision, and the "isolated d-pawn" wins in short order.

D. Bronstein (U.S.S.R.)-B. Berger (Australia)

Queen's Gambit Declined 1. c4 e6 2. Nc3 d5 3. d4 Nf6 4. Bg5 Be7 5. e3 Nbd7 6. Nf3 0-0 7. Bd3

Pachman, in his monumental work on the d- ft , calls this a "colorless continuation rarely seen now in master play." This, however, was written before the current fashion of deliberately courting the "isolated clpawn" took hold. If deeper study is given to the defense, the pendulum may well swing back.

7. dxc4 8. Bxc4 c5 9. 0-0 cxd4

Must be good, as it does not have the objection it sometimes has of freeing White's ¥11-A, it being free already.

10. exd4

10. . . . Nb6 In all such positions, unless White

castles ¥1¥-side it is best first to "put the question to the Bishop" with . . . h6, while Bxf6 can still be met with .. . Nxf6. The A is forced either to h4, where it can never again threaten the sacrifice Bxh6, or else off the semi-pin diagonal, removing the pressure on the .I£) which protects the mating square h7.

1 1. Bb3 Bd7 12. Ne5

The "isolated cl-pawn's" main and al-

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most sole virtue is that it supports this powerful 4).

12. 13. Qd3 14. Rfe1

Rc8 Nbd5 Bc6

By now, Black cannot afford 14 ... h6 because of 15. Nxd5 Nxd5 16. Bc2!, and if now 16 .. . g6, 17. Nxg6 Bxg5 18. Ne7f! and mate next move [Ed.: Alas, there is no mate here, it just looks that way at first glance. 18 . . . Kg7 19. Q!t7f Kf6 20. Nxd5f exd5 21. f4 Bxf4 22. Rf1 Ke7 23. Rxf4 @6 24. Raf1 gives White a niggling edge; 17. Bxh6 is simpler and gives White an immediate edge.]

15. Qh3 a6?

Loss of valuable time needed for safeguarding his �- When White is cooking up a mate on h7, an excellent defensive plan is to get the �-� to d8 as soon as possible to make a flight for the � at f8. In order to check on h7, White first has to play Bxf6, bringing Black's .Q. from e7 to f6, and this gives Black's � a further necessary flight square at e 7.

On Move 17 Berger plays ... Qj6 and it loses off hand. Had he played it immedi-

ately, for a quick ... Rfd8, he would still have a good game, e.g., 15 .. . Qj6:

a) 16. Rad1 Rfd8 17. Bc2 Be8! 18. Bb1 (if 18. Nxd5, .. . Rxc2! 19. Bxf6 gxf6! 20. Nxe7f Q:ce7 and White's attack breaks down) @4! 19. Nxd5 Rxd5 20. Bxf6 Bxf6 21. Bxh7f (or Q:ch7f) Kj8, and Black will regain his ft with advantage.

b) If 16. Bc2, ... Rfd8! 17. Nxd5 Q:cd5 18. Bxf6 Bxf6 19. Bxh7f Kj8 20. Nxc6 bxc6 (not . .. Rxc6 21. Be4), and again Black will regain his ft with advantage . .Q.s on opposite colors in the middlegame are an advantage to the better A (Black's, here) .

16. Rad1 Bronstein's choice of squares for his

�s is the best. It would be! 16. . . . b5

Fiddling while Rome burns. Here 16 .. . Qj6, instead of next move, was still quite playable.

17. Bc2 Qd6?? Now a blunder losing outright. Black

cannot play 17. .. g6because of 18. Bh6 Re8 19. Nxj7! He could, however, play 17. .. b4, and if 18. Ne4, .. . Nxe4 19. Bxe4 j5 20. Bxe7 Q:ce7 with an inferior but not lost game. In this, if 18. Nxd5, ... Bxd5 19. Bxf6 Rxc2.

18. Nxc6 Rxc6 19. Bxf6 Nxf6 20. Ne4 Resigns

Black must lose the Exchange. Had he not played ... b5, the combination would not have been on, as a ft could have taken on Black's c6. See note to 16 ... b5.

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His Writings

HOW TO ADVANCE IN CHESS A corny title, but the subject is near to almost every player's heart. Even if the player

doesn't seek to become a champion, he rightly feels he could get more fun from chess if he played it with more facility, less tendency to spoil his games with oversights.

Oversights Psychology We all make oversights. Petrosian In my student days, psychology was a

makes oversights; they are few and far be- more conceited science than now. It thought tween. At the other end of the scale, we itself adolescent. Now it seems to know it is have a game I once saw at Sydney Univer- still a child. The once revered Macdougall sity in which one player-of extremely high is derided as an oversimplifier. The amount intelligence but not high skill, since I was of solid truth in Freud is variously estimated able to give him a ltl-played a spectacular at anything from a fraction over nil up to handicap game against another student who who knows what. Dogma is out, groping is knew the moves and rules and nothing m.

more. The second student was also very intelligent, and is now a leading figure in

As applied in chess, however, psychology has advanced from wild guesses to rudimentary science. De Groot's Thought and Choice in Chess has shown up many fallacies, has shown partly how chess masters think and how they don't think. Because of that book, what I write now about chess must be a bit different from what I

the legal world. The first student gave the second student all his pieces except his 'tl and his eight fts. The first student won. You don't believe it? I could bring witnesses, but I could not descend to such unkindness to an eminent member of the legal profession. For there are many people who insist absurdly on correlating chess skill with intelligence, and his reputation would suffer.

Intelligence is an advantage in chess. But intelligence and skill are entirely different things.

Can chess skill be inborn, in the sense that certain nerve connections may be almost ready-made in an infant's brain, so that very little instruction is needed to establish them? We just don't know. There are infant prodigies. But who is to say whether they might not have shown extraordinary ability in other directions if prodded? It might be helpful to know what was the I.Q of Morphy, Capablanca, Reshevsky, and Fischer, for I.Q still means something, if not very much.

wrote many years ago. But don't let's kid ourselves. Despite

Thought and Choice, our knowledge of how thinking in chess proceeds is still vague. Nor can any of us have much idea of what innate capacity for chess we have. And supposing we omitted to learn chess when very young, are we justified in saying, "It's a bit late to start now"? Certainly not. It is helpful to learn chess in the formative years, but not vital. Amos Bum did not take up chess seriously till he retired from business late in life, yet became one of England's aces and one of the world's top 20. George Hastings did not even learn the moves till he was 30 or 31, yet about five and a half years later was runner-up for the Australian Championship; the next time, to show it

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was no fluke, he shared in the quadruple tie for the title. ]. Kopp, the Sydney player, learned at 50, yet in three years was able to cope with state champions, and would have beaten one in Melbourne but for forgetting to stop his clock.

Evidently, if a person retains an agile brain by constantly exercising it, his capacity to learn new things need not be wrecked by age. Or, alternatively, he may acquire a sudden passion for chess, combined (either through good or ill fortune) with a plentiful supply of spare time, and thus the game itself may give his mind an agility it had not previously shown. I think that might be said of Hastings, a man of high intelligence (I think) but taciturn, and one whose earlier background, insofar as I know it, did not suggest that he had previously used that intelligence in an intellectual sphere.

Is There a Panacea?

In short, few of us can gauge our capacity for chess. The question I now ask is this: Is there some recipe for improvement which will assist everybody, no matter what his present age or skill? That is, leaving out prodigies and grandmasters, who need not concern us.

To answer this question, we need to inquire into the nature of chess skill. In the first place, chess is rather more like batting at cricket than it is like tennis. In tennis, you can strike a bad patch, but that is far from fatal. You may lose a set. So what? But in batting, one false step can doom you. So in chess.

And yet chess is still vastly different from batting. Batting may be a bit like lightning chess, but not straight chess. In straight chess, you can and must deliberate. There are so many things to look at, and if you fail to look at something you ought to look at, you may make a hideous oversight, after which all the skill in the world won't save

you. We now arrive at this:

The main desideratum in chess is avoidance of oversights.

To put it another way, if we could all play chess always at our full strength, we should all play far, far better than we do.

Obviously, we all make moves below our full strength. "Saw it as soon as I'd done it!" We have all said this many times. Evidently, in such cases, had we taken the trouble to visualize clearly the position as it would be after our proposed move, and to look for shock replies in this visualized position instead of the position before us, we'd have seen the oversight before it could happen.

Going a bit beyond that, we have the Purdy system, that little series of self-questions given at the end of Chess Made Easy. Employed at every move, such a system will cut down slips enormously. Yet in actual practice, it proves hard to discipline the mind even to that small extent. Had I used the Purdy system every move and in every game since I evolved it, and had the same degree of good and bad luck that I have had during my chess career, I believe I'd have won about 40 tournaments and matches instead of about 30, and would often have come second instead of third, and so on.

Making Your Best Better Still, let's say you are capable of the

necessary self-discipline-by practicing yoga or whatnot. You don't play as well as Boris Spassky, or Korchnoi, or Petrosian, or Fischer. Why not, damn it? Because even your consistently best chess, or mine, is not as good as they can play with or without the Purdy system.

So the second question is: How do you make your best chess better?

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Houdini was once asked, "What is your secret?" He replied, "I haven't one, I have a thousand."

In chess, that would be as big an exaggeration as it was with Houdini. Yet it is true that in chess there is more than one road to success. One player may be fortunate enough to have a very good coach on tap. If that coach will go through the player's games with him, he's got it made. But good coaches are rarer than good players.

Supposing you have no good coach. My own case is one I can write about with first-hand knowledge. I had nobody to give me one word of advice.

So at 14, I had to work out a method of learning for myself. A friend lent me Green's Chess, a miserable little book with a dozen or so unannotated games at the end. I thought that if I played over these, always covering the moves with a card before looking, I must learn something. I was right. I did not try to guess only the moves of one side-perhaps the best idea-but both sides. Doubtless this was because I had just had one book, and it had very few games.

Mter that I started on Morphy's Games. Very much more useful, of course, for although P.W. Sergeant's notes hardly do Morphy justice, they are infinitely better than no notes at all.

The scheme must have worked, because a few months after learning the moves and teaching my brother and sisters and young friends the game, I was able to win a handicap tournament in which I conceded odds up to �' � '

'£\, ft and Move (that's about half your fighting force). My opponents were far from dumb but quite unskilled, whereas I had been, by a more or less unconscious process, acquiring just a fraction of the know-how of the masters whose games I had been playing through.

And that's just it. Good annotations help, but are not essential. What chiefly

matters is that you put in some work yourself on each move, and then compare your move with the text move, either confirming that yours was okay or discovering, if you can or if the annotator will tell you, why it wasn't. If you want the process to be quite painless-and why not?-you can nowadays make it so with Chernev' s Logical Chess Move by Move, with notes to every single move. Mter that, you are ready for other books of games.

Books and More Books

Today there are hundreds of good chess books, and the process of improving at chess is much easier. But although it is good to read textbooks, you must not regard them as a substitute for the playing over of games-rather, an important supplement. Reading chess theory helps you very much in the long run. It does not produce steady progress, but a series of occasional jumps forward. Suddenly something clicks, and you jump. Playing over games and solving problems from actual play-like in Winning Chess and Win at Chess and The Art of Checkmate-is quite different. It improves you minute by minute. You can feel it doing you good!

Openings Many players think they could play a

good game "if only they knew the openings." This idea is really crazy. You can improve your opening play at any stage of your career. Make the most of your early years by using them to improve your intrinsic chess skill, which has very little to do with special openings. The general remarks on openings in Guide to Good Chess are enough until you become fairly good.

Blindfold Practice You don't have to work hard at chess,

but if you feel like it, here is a way you can

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The Search for Chess Peifedion

infallibly improve your chess ability. Force yourself to play through published games blindfold. I know it's hard when there's no necessity. It would be a good idea to go camping with a book of games and "forget" to take a chess set.

It's like rowing. In my student days, cars were a rarity for young people. There was more hiring of rowing boats. Now, one thing about rowing is that you may go with the tide but come home against it; moreover, a strong wind may get up and fight you. But you just have to return the boat to shore, not to mention the girl. Thus, because you have to, you become an almost tireless rower. And afterwards, rowing in calm water is a pushover.

Same with blindfold chess. When you have to, because you have undertaken it, you can play quite a number of games blindfold simultaneously. When you don't have to, it seems irksome to play over even one game blindfold. But if you make yourself do it, it soon gets easier. Sarapu used this kind of practice, and it may have helped him to become Champion of Zone 10.

Why does blindfold chess help? Because a vital element of chess skill is to force yourself to visualize positions several moves ahead. In one way, that is harder than blindfold chess, because you have the present position before your eyes to distract you. In another way it is easier, because at least part of your future picture is the same as now; you have less to fill in. But if you want to practice visualizing future moves while distracted by the position before you as in actual games, you can do so by making a practice of religiously ploughing through the strings of analysis given by tough annotators, and making sure you really do "see" the position as it changes move by move: do not give up halfway through a note.

If you find it very hard to play right through a game blindfold, do not be dis-

couraged. One of the very worst blindfold players I know is John Purdy, yet a player who has twice won the Australian Championship cannot be utterly hopeless. He seems to find the second kind of visualization, i.e., unseeing the position before him and seeing it a few moves ahead, quite easy, but he is handicapped if he has no board at all.

If you find blindfold chess hard at first, begin by playing with a blank board and no men. Another tip: when lying in bed, spend a minute or two each morning saying the names of squares, like c6, and immediately telling yourself whether it is dark or light. Koltanowski, the great blindfold expert, learned this way. It shows that blindfold chess is not something you either can or cannot do. You can learn it and improve at it. We all know that hl and a8 are light. Therefore, g2, £3, e4, dS, and b7 are light. And of course fl, dl, bl, c8, e8, g8. From that you can work out the rest. But with practice you stop working them out, you just know.

More on Books

I do not agree with "Zugzwang" on all points. He says "players of talent" do not need many books. They do not need them if they merely want to play better than untalented players. But if they want to improve their own chess rapidly, books will help them enormously.

There are two great differences between chess today and chess in my boyhood.

1. The number of competent players the world over is vastly greater; I would say it has multiplied twentyfold or even a hundredfold. It is impossible to be more exact than that, because the word "competent" itself is vague. In my boyhood, almost every player of great skill had, as far as I could see, a rather keen mentality, and there were very few of them. Now there are a great

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His Writings

many players of about their strength, with extremely varied mentalities.

2. The number of helpful chess books is also vastly greater, and ( 1) has happened because of (2). Chess literature in my boyhood was pitiful compared with now. The main trouble was a general belief that the finer points of chess were unteachable. There were books on openings and books of recorded games (with superficial notes), and very little else. Nobody dreamed that actual skill in chess could be taught, e.g., the ability to see combinations and to make good plans.

The Big Breakthrough Although it is not realized now, one

single, superior intellect was responsible for the change-Emanuel Lasker. His Manual showed (in 1928) that both these things could be taught. Because he himself blew no trumpets about his pioneering, but simply launched his book as though it were just one more chess book, and secondly because he obscured his brass tacks by dragging in bits of idealist philosophy that were rather boring, but above all, because he gave the credit for his theories to Steinitzthus disguising new lamps by calling them old-ordinary players did not realize that a new chess era had started. The people who did wake up to it were writers, and the first was Lasker's old rival, Tarrasch. Tarrasch had previously taught only by annotation. Now he produced his textbook, The Game of Chess. This was so crammed with brass tacks and free from Lasker's irrelevancies that nobody seemed to realize it was based directly on Lasker and would have been impossible without Lasker-that Lasker was the genius, Tarrasch just a great teacher serving up Lasker's dish in a new, and to most people, a more acceptable form.

Lasker was not the only great pioneer. There was also Nimzovich. Later writers do

not use Nimzovich's rather humorous terminology, and they avoid his exaggerations, but all his insights are essential ingredients of their works. Nimzovich dealt mainly with special types of positions (mainly very closed ones). Other writers try to deal with all types, but their treatment of the special types is still based on Nimzovich.

Other Pioneers Another pioneer was Znosko-Borov

sky. Unfortunately, he started off, like the old philosophers Descartes, Spinoza, Leibnitz and that crowd, with an a priori theory that the "elements" of chess were force, space, and time. Capablanca realized that this was bunk, but his own attempt to patch it up was a silly one. He said that Z-B had left out a "fourth element," namely "position." He went on to describe "position" in such vague, complex terms that the absurdity of calling it an element should have been obvious to his mathematical mind-so crystal-dear when dealing with actual chess situations over the board.

Just as the philosophy of Descartes is full of good, fruity stuff despite its false premises, so Znosko-Borovsky made an important contribution to chess literature, especially by showing how lucid a chess writer could get without bursting at the seams. The best parts of his book, The Middlegame in Chess, are quite independent of his force-space-time theory; they deal extremely practically with the treatment of superior, inferior, and equal positions. Capablanca, in Chess Fundamentals, was just as lucid, and did not handicap himself with any special theory at all. His criticism of ZB's theory is merely mentioned in passing in another book, his Primer (out of print) ; and here again, although he says the four elements of chess are force, space, time, and position (sheer bunkum), he makes no fur-

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ther mention of them, so that they don't handicap him in the least.

Larry Evans similarly gave some mad list of "elements of chess," but again he does not allow it to handicap him in his intensely practical work New Ideas in Chess, which is really a splendid series of practical problems in strategy and tactics, with the solutions fully explained.

"Myself When Young" My own pioneering work, started in

1930, was of great practical assistance to those who had the chance to read it. Not many, for it did not appear in book form but only in the A.C.R.-now all collector's pieces. What I did first was to explain just how Lasker's teaching on combinations could be utilized in practical play. At first I used Lasker's own grandiose terminology, and only years later did I evolve my own exceedingly simple one, "forks, pins, nets, ties," and so forth. I did deal with position play, but I concentrated on "how to see combinations," and time has proved me right. For the great lesson of De Groot's scientific experiments detailed in Thought and Choice in Chess is that combinations (tactics) are the fundamental things in chess, and strategy mainly derivative, so that the difference between rabbits and fair amateurs, fair amateurs and strong amateurs, strong amateurs and masters, masters and grandmasters, boils down almost completely to one thing-the ability to see tactical possibilities and see them quickly. It's actually hard to believe, until you read Thought and Choice and see how scientifically the experiments were conducted.

Principles

All the same, though strategy may be a derivative of tactics, meaning that general principles in chess are based, deep down, on mere practical experience of the results

of actual moves, that is no reason why the average player should go to all the trouble of deriving his own strategy in that way. If clever writers have arrived at certain fairly reliable principles, it saves an enormous amount of labor if you study those principles and employ them, more or less on trust at first, rather than go through all the labor of trying to work them out for yourself. This way, you may get in a few months the fruit of five centuries.

Elementary, Watson We could all think of players like C.G.

Watson whose tactics were obviously far superior to their strategy. Watson did study chess books, but he never bothered with general principles. He reveled in sheer calculation and probably whipped through a dozen variations almost every move; he saw far more, and far more quickly, than most of his opponents, including me. Abstractions bored him. Yet I, for one, had a hoodoo over him, and the reason was that I had some faith in principles, and discarded quickly many of the lines he took the trouble to calculate out for many moves ahead.

It makes me wonder how Watson and I would have compared had we been used as guinea pigs by De Groot. Watson certainly saw tactical possibilities faster than I did. Yet he nearly always lost to me. What's the answer? Would De Groot say that Watson was potentially a more skillful player than I, or would he discover that, although I looked at fewer lines than Watson, I hit the sounder ones sooner than he did? I don't know, because, quite frankly, I have not fully read De Groot. Perhaps he makes some provision somewhere for exceptional cases like Watson.

The Moral

The fact remains that Watson did despise general principles and did suffer for it.

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His Writings

And the moral is that the reading of general works on the game is beneficial, even though it remains true that seeing tactical possibilities is absolutely essential to skill in chess. Faith in, and use of, general principles will save you a vast amount of clock time.

Purdy, Iconoclast My later contribution to chess theory

was to point out the bunkum inherent in a

priori theories like Z-B's force-space-time one, and to show that the proper way to examine chess was to start from the game itself, not to impose something upon it from outside. Thus I started to examine the moves and the rules. Above all, I pointed out that almost the whole basis of chess is the rule that each player must move in turn and only one thing at a time. This makes it entirely different from war, and explains why such enormous advantage results if one side can face his opponent with the often impossible task of doing two things at once. Not impossible always, for one move will sometimes do two things. But often, combinations are all based on that rule.

For years I searched around for a true definition of a combination-there have been at least a dozen attempts-and finally realized that a definition was unnecessary. And why? Because combinations can be split up into something simpler, namely threats. Thus I arrived at my most important dictum:

Threats are the basis of winning chess.

Position Play I also got down to a very basic idea of

position play. Position play is for when no sound combination is "on," and it does not necessarily involve a "plan," as other writers insisted it did-including even Laskerbut primarily a much simpler thing, and that is the idea of strengthening one's posi-

lion or weakening the opponent's. This is evident from the fact that al

though one should usually have a plan, sometimes it is obvious that your best move, come what may, is simply to create a flight for your W by h31 . . . h6, thus freeing your Eis, or Re7/Re2 to take the seventh/second

rank with a Ei . If you say, "Oh, well, that's a plan

consisting of one move only, but still a plan," my reply is that it is bad to stretch words beyond their accepted meanings. A plan is rightly thought of as a series of moves, not a single move. In either case, you cannot dispense with an inspection of the position for possible shock replies; but if you find there is none, and you have obviously one good move only, and it is not a threat nor a parry of a threat, you are playing positionally, and yet are not making a plan because there is no need for a plan. The idea of "strengthening" or "weakening" covers all position play. It usually involves a plan, but need not.

It was because my ideas differed so sharply from other writers-even my original hero, Emanuel Lasker-that I entered for the World Correspondence Championship, in which I felt that sound theories, rather than the tactical facility I would never possess, should tell. It is only reasonable that a player with unusual theories should be expected to bring some evidence that they can achieve results. I knew my theories were at least 90% right. My winning the event did not prove them right, but it offered some evidence that I was not an eccentric crank.

In recent years I have written nothing along these lines, but have now resumed.

Position Play Made Easy As explained, position play is for when

no sound combination is "on," and that is most of the time. lt need not involve a plan,

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as most writers insist that it must, but it does usually.

What does the average player do when he can neither threaten anything useful nor has to parry some specific threat? He just has no guide, and probably ends up making a .ft move which he thinks will do least harm, but may actually ruin him because a .ft move is irrevocable; a .ft cannot afterwards return.

The simplest recipe for a plan in such circumstances is to find which of your pieces is doing least good, and try to utilize it.

This applies right through the game. For example, take the simplest case. In trying to mate with ¥11 and W against W, never move the ¥11 if the W is able to advance. Why? Because a W is absolutely null and void at a distance. The only exception to this rule is that you must avoid giving stalemate-a special trick rule in chess which supersedes the principle that gaining squares is always good.

Coming back to the opening, my principle applies in the well-known rule that you should develop unmoved pieces rather than move ones already out. In this case you usually have a choice of pieces that are doing "least good," but if you have only one piece left to develop {usually a EO, then the choice is narrowed down to it. Remember, this is only for when you can threaten nothing useful and do not have to parry a threat, though even then it might still be good to develop that last � .

For the middlegarne, we need a specific example. Take this one from the Australian Championship, Perth 1954-55. It shows the difficulty that nonpositional players have in vague positions.

John Purdy

S. Lazare (after 1 8. Qe3)

Here Black could, indeed, have played a mildly threatening move, 18 ... j5, but it is two-edged and falls into the category of risky .ft moves. John Purdy, then aged 19, won the national title, but he was not yet a positional player. Floundering for a plan, he chose the weird 18 ... Kh8 with the "aim" of .. .Ne5 and ... RgB. All meaningless, and it only spoiled his level position. He later extricated himself and won brilliantly, but that is irrelevant.

All he had to do was to look for the piece that was doing least good, and mobilize it. That's either � . The ¥11-� is not needed to protect the a- .ft , nor is there any early prospect of attacking via ... a4. Moreover, the serious weakness in Black's game is the c- .ft , which has two guns trained on it and needs the d- .ft to stay "backward" to guard it. By simply placing the ¥11-� on c8, Black would have made an inactive piece useful {defensively) and eliminated his only serious weakness. No "looking ahead" was necessary.

Here's how the game went: 18 ... Kh8? 19. Bb2 Ne5 20. Na4 Rg8?

21. h3 f5 22. f4 Nd7 23. Bb5 Bxb2 24. Rxb2 Nf6 25. e5! Nd5 26. Qt2 dxe5.

With a few swift, sharp strokes, Black has transformed his entirely satisfactory position into just about a dead loss. Simplest now for White was 27. fxe5, but he

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His Writings

chose to complicate with 27. c4, and a wild game developed. White thought he could play Rd7 after 2Z .. Nxf4, but then ... Qg5 would threaten a deadly fork.

Black probably thought for a long time about 78 .. . Kh8, yet it made no sense. By not thinking at all and just following the principle (activate least useful piece), he would have saved minutes on his clock and preserved a good game.

It's true the other l"i was also inactive, but the possibility of later playing .. .j5 for attack makes it potentially active. So a move by the �-l"i would not have been as good as . . . Rac8, but would have been far better than the useless move chosen.

So you see, position play is not as hard as you think. If a move "looks" silly, it probably is silly, so avoid it unless you can prove beyond doubt that it is good.

Digression

Recently I did something I have not done for several decades-gave a lesson to a fairly raw beginner. This pupil, age 13, was very intelligent, and had read Chess Made Easy, and had played some games, though only with a girl who did not fully know the rules.

I was surprised to find that in spite of her perusal of C.M.E., evidently only a brief one, she was still not absolutely clear about "en passant." She knew the rules of castling as well as Averbakh5 did before Adelaide 1960, but did not know them fully.

Furthermore, her "sight of the board" was virtually nonexistent.

The lesson took the form of a game in which the pupil thought out a move each

time entirely for herself, but was only permitted to play it if it was not a serious error. If it was, the error was explained and she was asked to think again, and if necessary again, till she found a good move.

Thus she improved by almost a whole ¥11 in a lesson lasting a little over an hour. If anyone thinks this an exaggeration, we must explain that a player who can be given a ¥11 by a master can easily find opponents to whom he or she can give a ¥11, and those opponents can find victims to whom they could concede a § or more.

What would I charge for such a lesson normally? Well, at least $20, assuming I was willing to give one at all. Not many beginners care to pay so much for early lessons.

What is the answer? I saw it at once, and told the pupil, who realized I would not have time to give further lessons.

Ten years ago, there was no answer. Now there is. It is Chemev's Logical Chess Move by Move.

For this is the only book of annotated games that is comprehensible to a tyro. Every other book of annotated games leaves some moves unexplained. The annotator assumes that the pupil will find some moves fairly obvious, whereas in fact he or she finds none at all obvious.

Some students are satisfied to remain completely puzzled by some moves. Provided they can follow most of them, they realize the game is doing them good. This is the best way to be. This was how I myself had to be, as the first book of chess I ever possessed had games with no notes at all.

But this is part of my nature. I am happy to remain in complete doubt about

5 Ed.: In Averbakh-Purdy, Adelaide 1960, Purdy castled ¥11-side and Averbakh argued that Purdy's l"i had passed over a square (b8) commanded by a white piece-so the castling was illegal! Averbakh's misconception was pointed out to him by his Russian friends and the game went on. See Chess World, Oct. 1960, p. 198.

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many things. But about 90% of us are not. These

90% or so like to understand everything when they study something. Gaps of incomprehensibility in a game worry them. This is remedied by Chemev, who annotates every move in every game, even going to the lengths of saying something new each time about 7. e4 or 1. d4.

Even then, beginners will naturally find a few bits of the notes not fully understandable, but they will at least understand all the moves of each game.

In this series, I have mentioned the value of books mostly in a general way. There are now so many that readers have suggested that I offer a sort of guide to them.

When somebody asks me what books he should get, I need to know first of all what books he has already, and about what strength he is. If he has some books already, I want to know his reactions to them. For example, some students find Nimzovich's My System extremely illuminating, helpful, and easy to understand. Others have difficulty with him, and if I can discover why they have difficulty, I can pick books that will help them.

In some cases the difficulty is simply that they have never acquired a quick "sight of the board." Nimzovich takes a good deal for granted. Every now and then he mentions that the move that would be indicated by the "system" is no good because of . . . and he reels off a little string of moves. A player who is already good enough to know that tactical possibilities must invariably have precedence over "principles" is not worried by this. But the player who has come on to Nimzovich too soon is confused.

As to strength (or weakness) of play, I also need to know just where his weakness lies. Often he thinks his weakness is in

openings, and is usually wrong. Most players have one weakness in common, though they may have others: they do not see the "obvious" quickly. Look at the nearest diagram and see how long it takes you to see White's correct move. One second? That is satisfactory. But suppose, three moves earlier, you saw that you could win a piece but would be then faced with the position in the diagram; might you not hastily conclude that being faced with such a diabolicallooking fork three moves later would make the whole thing unsound, and might you therefore refrain from winning the piece? If you are quite certain you would not allow yourself to be fooled in this way, either you are kidding yourself or you are a good tactician. In the latter case, you need advanced books on position play, having already a fair grip of the mechanics of the game.

The mechanics of the game are the great bottleneck with most learners. Anyone of intelligence can understand the principles of quick development, control of the center, and so forth, but nearly everyone, at any age, is slow in acquiring facility in chess geometry.

The hardest moves to see are: (a) very long moves backwards, and (b) the Knight's move.

Many writers describe the .:tl's move as two operations. This is bad. Nobody is ever going to get to even "Z" class in chess until he stops seeing the .:tl's move as two steps and sees it as only one. Therefore it is best to describe it as one only from the start. The main thing is to show it in diagrams, for in actual play it has to be seen, not thought about. So long as you have to think about the .:tl's move, you cannot play chess.

If a learner can stand it, it is best to give him innumerable exercises in 4J forks, other forks, pins, and skewers. But show him that

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His Writings

forks, and pins and skewers of a sort that threaten to win material, are really all the same thing-pins and skewers are really only particular cases of forks, both the forked pieces lying on the same line instead of on different lines.

I spoke of Logical Chess Move by Move as an answer to a learner's prayer.6

Since then, I have found that it is not enough for most learners. They need actual chess exercises.

How to Force Checkmate The best book of exercises for a learner

to start with is Reinfeld's How to Force Checkmate. Reinfeld's best books are those with hardly any words at all, but only diagrams, captions, and solutions. This is one.

It starts with 36 diagrams in which the problem is to mate in one. It is surprising how long it takes most beginners to see these, and this shows how much they need them.

After whipping through these, the learner is introduced to 156 mates in twonot those frightfully difficult sort that are specially composed and appear in Sunday newspapers, but ones where the first move is almost invariably a check, as in real chess. All these positions are from actual play.

When the learner has been through these, taking a little more time, he is introduced to 108 mates in three-again, all starting with a check or other forcing move. No mate in three in real chess or in this book is ever as hard to see as a cleverly composed mate in two.

In other words, all the exercises are either very easy or fairly easy, and this is

good. It means that you get through 300 fairly quickly, and you are then no longer a raw beginner-whereas if a learner merely reads a book that tells him some principles, useful though they may be, his actual play will still be ghastly because he is not yet seeing. He is only thinking, and this is futile.

It is obvious from lightning chess that it is not absolutely necessary to think in chess-though it's a help. But it is absolutely necessary to see. A person may have a terrific brain, but until he starts seeing the "obvious" in chess he will continue to commit the most atrocious blunders. There is nothing inherently obvious in chess. You can get to a stage where the "obvious" is really obvious just by playing chess for years and years. Or you can get to it in a few weeks with the right books of exercises or books of games, but exercises give you more specific practice in the essentials.

"Win at Chess"

After How to Force Checkmate, there is another good book by Reinfeld called Win at Chess.7

These exercises are not quite so easy. They are all combinations, but not all ending in forced mates. It is important to realize that although mating combinations are the most vital, they are not the commonest. Little combinations involving loss or gain of material come into calculation at every move in the game, even when it is only a case of avoiding a certain move because it would permit a little combination by the opponent. In master chess, a minority of moves are actually combinative, but this is because both players are seeing all the corn-

6 Ed.: Unfortunately, Logical Chess Move by Move by Chernev has been out of printfor some time and as of 1997 there is no word of a reprint.

7 Ed.: Thinkers' Press, the publisher of the book you are reading, also publishes a title called Win at Chess! by Ron Curry. Available ! rom many fine booksellers.

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binations that certain moves would give the opponent, and are avoiding such moves.

A thing not often realized is that in most grades of chess, when you get a chance for a winning combination it is usually through an error by the opponent, and when your opponent gets one it is usually through error by you. It follows that unflagging attention has to be given to checking up at every move to see if it permits an enemy combination. For once you have moved, the board is at your opponent's mercy.

Equally, since your opponent may make an error permitting a combination at any time, you must also look for possible combinations on your own account, when it is your move. Every time.

Play through a game by a couple of learners or average players, and you will find that both of them constantly overlooked dramatic possibilities. Their games have few combinations because they didn't see them. The games of masters do not, as a general rule, contain a great number of combinations, either. But this is for the opposite reason that the masters see all the ones that would arise through errors, and avoid the errors.

Like Tennis

The difference between books of games and books of exercises is a bit like the difference between playing sets of tennis and having special practice at volleying against a wall or with the aid of an apparatus, or even with another player across the net. Or practice in serving by serving a dozen balls from corner to corner several

times. Playing the set gives you varied practice, but does not improve you rapidly in particular shots. Volleys may be likened to combinations because they are the finishing shots, and if you volley too feebly you are usually vulnerable to an easy passing shot, so you lose where you should have won. And a good service will pay off in aces, forced errors, and weak returns. And volleys and serves are shots that not many players become very good at, but they are the ones it is possible to become very good at more quickly than any others in the ways described.

Books for Practice!

The main point is that practice is better than theory, but practice against other learners is of little use because they do not take advantage of most of your errors, so that you go on making such errors. And you cannot, in common humanity, ask an expert to play with you. Not only will it bore him, but it may have a really bad effect on his play. I have known players to go right off their game through being inveigled frequently into playing weak opponents. A book of exercises from actual play or a book of games is practice of the very best sort, always provided you never peep at the solution or the text move until you have "had a go." And provided that if you went wrong, you try to find out why you went wrong. But don't spend too long at that. As I always say, even if you only understand 50% of the moves, you are getting somewhere and your percentage will rise. Don't expect to understand everything at firstjust forge ahead.

- 2 1 6 -

His Games

A

Cecil Purdy competed in his Championship tourney in 1926, the year I was born. Despite this generation gap, it seems that, except for Garry Koshnitsky, I had the longest close contact with Purdy of any current player. My first encounter was in 1941 when, as a schoolboy who had learnt chess only the year before, I brashly wrote to A. C.R. suggesting an analysis of an endgame was wrong. Not surprisingly, I was in error, but I received back a pleasant letter giving more detailed analysis and offering a book if I could refute it. Later I was taken by Steve Kruger to meet Purdy at No. 1 Bond Street, the first of numerous trips of mine to the office of incredible chaos at the top of the stairs-a habit broken only when I graduated at Sydney University in 1945 and then came to live in Melbourne.

During my Sydney years I saw Purdy in action many times, ranging from some years in the same interclub team through several N.S.W Championships up to the 1945 Australian Championship.

My contact was not confined to chess events. Mter our 1973 personal distress, Cecil showed a high order of sympathetic sensitivity. When possible, we were tennis adversaries. I often visited his home-Cecil was a learned yet entertaining conversationalist. We were frequent correspondents. Cecil had the great virtue of being prepared to objectively look at new concepts and, even more unusual, at heterodox ideas challenging accepted wisdom. We argued at length over abstruse areas of chess philosophy, much more than ever was mentioned in Chess World. He was always willing to espouse any suggestion that he thought to be good for chess.

- 2 1 7 -


THE PLAYER

When a player is a F.I.D.E. International Master and is capable of winning four Australian Championships, his ability must be of a very high order indeed. What then were his skills? He was a most effective player; his genius for winning the important games and the important events, even against innately better opponents, was unparalleled. But above all, he was extremely efficient in his play, more so than anybody else I have seen. That is, he marshaled his talents and applied them in the most effective way. Never was there whimsy for the sake of being different or showiness or other forms of waste of effort. In a way, his great skill was methodical organization of thought, and systematic application of one overall, overriding concept.

I do not mean that his play was stereotyped, only that his games (and his successes) were based on one idea. Purdy was the perfect example of how a person's own abilities influenced not only his actual play, but also his philosophy of how the game should be played. Running through all his writings is the theme that a bad positional mistake may sometimes be decisive, but almost always defeats arise from tactical errors, minor or major, so that the key to winning chess is to avoid such mistakes oneself and take advantage of the opponent's mistakes. Except perhaps at the very top levels, that proposition is undoubtedly correct, and Purdy's great contribution to chess literature was to emphasize it, to classify the

types of situation, and to provide a scheme which could be used by players of all strengths to at least minimize such tactical errors. All this echoed his own merits: even at his peak, his aims in play were modesthis successes arose from his avoidance of minor tactical errors, his perception of when his opponent so faltered, and his ability to keep a game in channels where constant vigilance was required. Most illuminating was his own comment to an unexpected loss to a tail-ender-that Tymoshenko obtained a position where the right moves were straightforward.

It can be deduced that Purdy would be troubled by players of reasonably comparable standard who did not make mistakes or, in a particular game, until they made a mistake. I do not mean somebody who stolidly did nothing, as the Purdy style of constant small tactical possibilities is dynamite against such types. Instead I refer to somebody who keeps the minor tactics under control, but who may be fertile in ideas. In such cases deeper, long-range plans come into play, and Purdy's advocacy and use of merely finding the best piece-improvement move is found wanting. Games over the years verify this deduction.

Among Cecil Purdy's attributes have to be placed iron nerves. If he ever got nervous, it was certainly well concealed. Over the board, his concentration was renowned. Immersed under his famous eyeshade (to avoid distraction), it was rare to see him stir. Chess was a struggle, and no matter who the opponent, how the game was going, what the event was, or whether he was in the running, all games were given full attention.

Purdy was the epitome of the fighter. Never was he one for the casual draw, and still less for the pusillanimous grandmaster draw. If you were a leader, you aimed to beat other leaders to open up a margin;

- 2 1 8 -

His Games

even if you were an also-ran, you aimed to win to improve your standing. This implies both courage and a concern for self-respect. As a fighter, he was never beaten until he turned over his W. In bad positions he was the master of finding the best chance, and his games are full of sacrifices of a ft , or of the Exchange for a ft to provide counterplay; and many a time the game thereby swung his way. Given the great influence he had on me, it is no surprise that we drew only three of our 18 games, and two of these were 80-move hairsbreadth escapes and the other was by forced repetition in a wild position in which I was vast material behind.

In a major event, Purdy believed in getting plenty of rest, at night or before play as appropriate to the session times. Except for sometime press duties, he rarely stayed around long after he finished his game, and he was never one who returned to an adjournment session merely for interest. Likewise, he was not of those who socialized or went to parties or "did the town" at nights or on rest days. All this is very wise, as a major tournament is a test of stamina, and he never seemed to tire in an event (or for that matter even in a game until advanced in years) .

OPENING PREPARATION

Purdy placed great store in preparing the opening, not so much for gaining a theoretical advantage, as his own concepts would show how ephemeral that could be, but rather to run the game into the type of position he wanted and whose basic ideas were known to him. In a major tourney, he would often beforehand prepare very deeply in one or two openings and confine himself wholly to them. That worked pretty well, though occasionally he came unstuck by running into somebody whose own pet

opening it was. The idea behind opening preparation

is to avoid unnecessary time expenditure, but Purdy rarely succeeded in this. His slowness and consequent perennial time trouble were notorious. However, he then was coolness personified. Nobody avoids all mistakes in time trouble, but I'd say Purdy did better than most. So often was it a feature of his game that he even worked out a scheme of prior marks on the score sheet to allow a move tally to be maintained with just one pencil stroke. Without getting flustered, he would work out an answer to possible moves and reply instantly-again the systematic approach. Since he used the transmission time to think, he was ideally suited to telegraphic play, and his record was superb. As his teller, I once saw him shoot out about ten instantaneous replies consecutively. A most curious discrepancy was that he had all the requirements for lightning play, yet he was a complete flop at this: I cannot explain it.

If the game was adjourned, Purdy would analyze it deeper and deeper until it held no secrets. He seemed to be invulnerable to fatigue, and for him this approach was very successful; but one's physiology plays a part, and for others a more circumspect approach to food needs and recuperation between sessions might turn out better.

His analytical ability was outstanding, as evidenced by his correspondence achievements. From the start I was impressed by his skill in playing over an unknown game and very rapidly locating the critical error moves. His annotations were to the point and could well be emulated in aim by most of the present day: he aimed to show where the mistakes were, why they were in error, and what should have been played. Of course, he was not always correct, but when sound analysis was provided it would be accepted ungrudgingly and without rancor.

- 2 1 9 -


It was the same in over-the-board analysis at game completion. He could confine his attention to critical positions, avoiding the trivialities where a loser attempts to show otherwise by more-or-less lightning analysis. Equally, he was very rarely averse to agreeing that he had been in error or even losing-very unlike many players I could name.

Cecil Purdy had the old-fashioned but still desirable ethical attitude to play. You do not cheat, you do not use gamesmanship, but the rules are to be kept and you do not allow your opponent to breach them or otherwise take advantage of you. You do not give up while a chance remains, but you do not go to a further session with a game demonstrably past salvation. Still less do you commit the utterly appalling act of failing to appear at that next session. Likewise, you play on for a win whilst any reasonable opportunities exist, but you do not continue games where your only chance is for the opponent to blunder due to fatigue, boredom, or annoyance.

Lest the reader feel that CJSP was a paragon, I must now admit that he was human and did have his imperfections. Nevertheless, about his conduct at the chessboard "I find no fault of this man," and it was as magazine editor that some flaws were seen. We all tolerated the incredible unpunctuality of issues of the magazine and soon learned to discount the promises of future articles, features, books, etc., so few of which ever came to fruition. Perhaps the most amusing were his proclaimed retirements. At the Brisbane 1951 prizegiving, I heard him declare his abandonment of all future competitive play! If this was the first time, it certainly was not the last, and what he was engaged at when he came to his untimely end shows how strong the attraction of the battle is to the true warrior.

In his writings, he was occasionally

unduly dogmatic. One case was his reiteration that a position could not be judged statically on head-counting and positional grounds until after all tactical possibilities were surveyed. This overlooks that the merit of a tactical flurry often cannot be evaluated without prior assessment of the existing positional and material aspects; yet his own practical successes were often due to his use of that self-same reasoning. He constantly tempted opponents to exchange great position plusses for only slight material gain. Likewise, his dismissal of the claim that combinations only arise in superior positions was obscurantist. No writer has ever denied that the easiest win can be destroyed by a tactical blunder: the real claim is that, provided patent blunders are avoided, winning combinations arise only after the opponent has been pushed downhill so far that he can no longer attend to all dangers.

The magazines always tended to be rather Purdy-centered, and in the later years of Chess World the achievements of the Purdy family were certainly unduly prominent. Cecil sometimes came on rather much about ethics and, like us all, showed his little biases about certain persons and States and incidents. He was so scrupulously fair over the board that I was always surprised that in his magazine writings he was sometimes very less than fair and distinctly ungenerous about his strongest rivals and their achievements. Still, even an angel needs some warts lest he becomes cloying.

To finish, I have left the best till last. If Cecil Purdy's attitude to the playing of tournament chess had to be summed up in one word, I would say Integrity. In fairness to all competitors, every game has to be treated alike. Even if well out of the running, never should one indulge in such disreputable practices as not turning up, or withdrawing, or coming very late, or playing moves at allegro speed. Moreover, the easy draw or a

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His Games

casual attitude is almost as reprehensible. Cecil had a special worry in that his son was often a competitor in the same events. However, at no time and in no event, regardless of the scores, was there any concession made to John P., or for that matter to friends or proteges.

Perhaps the most notable example of his principled attitude was the last-round game Purdy-Rogers in the 1979 Sydney International, the last important game that he was fated to play. He was already last for sure, whilst Rogers needed but half a point for his IM norm. A quick draw? Not bloody likely! Any score has to be earned. The course and eventual result of that game is now history, but for his honorable approach I respect him most of all.

Vale CecilJ.S. Purdy

( I ) Australian Championship (1931)

C. Purdy-G. Gundersen Ruy Lopez

1. e4 e5 2. Nf3 Nc6 3. Bb5 a6 4. Ba4 Nf6 5. 0-0 Nxe4 6. d4 b5 7. Bb3 d5 8. dxe5 Be6 9. c3 Bc5

10. Nbd2 0-0 1 1. Bc2 f5 12. Nb3 Bb6 13. Nfd4 Nxd4 14. cxd4

Nxd4 is "book." 14 . . . • a5

Vienna 1882). White has no more than equal chances.

15. f3 Ng5 16. f4

Or Bxg5 followed by Q,d3 with some slight advantage.

16. Ne4 17. Be3 Qe7 18. Rc1 Rac8

If . .. a4, 19. Nd2 c5 20. Nxe4 and White is preferable.

19. Bd3 c6 20. a3

White tries for too much. He wants to play Nc5 without the possibility of Black equalizing by . . . Bxc5 followed by ... d4, and first moves the a- .1t out of range of the A. But this .1t advance gives Black chances on the � wing. Nc5 at once.

20. Qa7! 21. Qc2 a4! 22. Nc5 Bxc5 23. dxc5 Rb8! 24. Bd4 b4 25. Rf3! Rf7 26. Qe2! Rfb7 27. Ba6!

By these maneuvers White preserves equilibrium.

27. 28. Bd3 29. Ba6

Rf7 Rfb7 Rf7

More energetic was 14 ... f4 15. j3 Ng3!! 30. h3 16. Rf2! Q!t4. This has occurred after 14. Avoiding a draw by repetition and pre-Nxd4 Bxd4 15. cxd4 (Mackenzie-Fleissig, paring possibilities of �-side counterplay.

- 22 1 --


30. lta8 31. Bd3 Rb7 32. Kh2 b3

Seeing that after all he can make nothing out of the \1!lt-side (e.g., .. . bxa3 33. bxa3 Rh3 34. Bb2), Black decides to close it up and seek fresh fields. This makes the game very drawish.

33. Rff1 34. Qe3 35. Rf3

Rf7 Qe7

White was scrambling to beat his clock, which he had been racing for almost 20 moves.

35. 36. Rcfl 37. Bxe4

Kh8 ltaS?

After his 36th move White has time to think, and he prepares an entire re grouping maneuver; he centralizes his i"(s, which Black fails to do.

37. 38. R3f2 39. Qc3 40. Rd1 41. Rfd2 42. Be3!

dxe4 Qf8 Rb5 Rd7 Qd8

Black's position is now most difficult, owing to the unhappy maneuver with his \1!l{- )"( . White threatens Rd6.

42. . • . Bd5 43. e6!

A surprise move which opens up avenues of attack.

43. • . . Bxe6 If .. . Re7, 44. Qs5 Qj8! 45. Rxd5 cxd5 46.

Rxd5 with good winning prospects. But this gave Black more chances.

44. Rxd7 Bxd7 45. Qd4 Rb7 46. Qxa4 Qe8 47. Rd6 h6 48. Qa6 Qc8 49. Bd4 Kh7 50. Be5 Be8

51. a4 Bd7 52. a5 Be8

Black is in zugzwang. 53. Re6!

A neat stifler. Threatens RxeB, and if . . . Bd7, Re7, or .. . Bfl, Rxc6.

53. • . . Qxe6 54. Qxb7 Resigns

If . . . Bd7, 55. a6 e3 56. a7 e2 5Z Bc3 Qs4 58. OjB, etc.

(2) Melbourne Annual Tournament (1932)

F. Crowi-C. Purdy Polish Opening

1. b4 Having a move in hand, White can

afford almost any freak. This is the Polish, alias Orang-Outang, Opening. The advanced b- ft and the .\1/b2 are not without their effect, but the loss of time on Move 4 outweighs that.

1. . . . d5 If . . . e5, Bb2 compels .. . d6 or . . f6, as a

b- ft is no compensation for a center ft . 2. Bb2 Nf6 3. e3! e6

If . . . Bj5 first, [4 and the A is liable to get hemmed in by fts.

4. b5 5. N£3 6. c4 7. Nc3 8. Qb3 9. d3

10. Be2

Nbd7 Bd6 Qe7 c5 Nb6 0-0 Rd8!

Black wants to play .. . e5, but at present can only do so after dxc4 dxc4, which would allow White later to post a 4J strongly at dS. Black therefore prepares ... d4 to drive away the 4J first.

1 1. 0-0 Bc7! 12. ltadl

Best was Rac7 or e4.

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His Games

12. d4 13. exd4 cxd4 14. Nb1

If Ne4, Black gets a passed ft by exchanging lt)s.

14 . . . . 15. Rfe1

e5 Nbd7!

Nimzovich was screaming for Black to put this 4) on the blockade square (c5) .

16. Bfl Nc5 17. Qc2 Bg4 18. Nbd2 Qd7

White threatened Bxd4. 19. h3 Bxf3 20. Nxf3 Re8 21. Ba3!

To induce the weakening . . . b6. 21. b6 22. g3 Rad8 23. Bg2 e4!

And the fun begins. 24. dxe4 d3 25. Qb1 Nfxe4 26. Bb2

26. Bxc5 Nxc5 2Z Rxe8 Rxe8 28. Re1 to simplify gave more chance.

26. f5 27. Nd4 Qfl 28. Nc6 Rd7 29. Ba1

If 29. Nxa7, . . . Q,xc4threatening ... Bxg3. White could save his c- ft by 29. Bxe4 followed by Qs1, but his W position would be left weak.

29. . . . Qxc4 30. f3

Leads to exchange of two live pieces for a dead � and two fts, but exposes the w.

30. . . . Bxg3! . . . Nd6is bad (Ne5), and if . . . Nf6 31. Bxf6

Rxe 1 f 32. Rxe 1 gxf6White regains his ft by Ne7f.

31. fxe4 Bxe1 32. Rxe1 Nxe4

Not .. .fxe4 33. Ne5. 33. Qb3

Primarily because of his exposed �, White is forced to exchange ¥/!is at the cost of a tempo and doubled fts.

33. Qxb3 34. axb3 d2 35. Rd1 Rd3

�'l��"iW'�� 0. .t ' ��-�� "� .,. �� ······�� j��,�� z�ra:,z r��;.;�� )�

36. Bfi Black threatened to win in one by .. .Ng3!

36. • . . Rg3t Black saw . . . Re3 won easily, but thought

he could win still more easily by driving away White's W first; he overlooked the ingenious idea in the next note.

37. Kh2 Re3 38. Bc4t Kf8

Black had thought to win offhand by . . . KhB, but now sees his error: 39. Rg1 Nf6 40. Bxf6! gxf6 41. Rd1! and wins the passed ft !

39. Bb2! 40. Ba3t 41. Bb4

g5 Kg7 Rxh3t

Owing to his tiny lapse on Move 36, Black's task is lengthened by about 20 moves! If ... Re1, of course simply Rxe1.

42. Kxh3 Nf2t 43. Kg2 Nxd1 44. Bxd2 Ne3t 45. Bxe3

Better was Kf2, suggested by Mr. Watson, but by . . . Ng4f followed by . . . Kg6 and . . . h5 Black wins as in the game.

45. • • . Rxe3

- 223 -


46. Nxa7 ReS! 47. Nc6 Kf6!

Black resists the temptation to race ahead with the h-.ft and develops his '3; in accordance with correct principles.

48. Nb4 Ke5 49. Nd5 Re6 50. Ne3 Rf6

... Rd6 is not good while the fork at c4 looms.

51. Kf2 h5 52. Be2 g4

Keep your .fts on the same color as an enemy A. Then it cannot blockade them, and they take squares away from it.

53. Ng2 f4 54. Nh4 Rd6

Aiming at . . . Kf6-g5 to unblockade. Black wants all three to advance.

55. Bc4 Kf6 56. Ng2 Kg5 57. Nel Rd2t 58. Kgl h4 59. Bfl f3 60. Nd3 g3

.. . h3 was more crushing; see note after Move 52.

61. Ne5 62. Ng6t 63. Ne5 64. Kg2 65. Nf3t 66. NeSt 67. Nc4

Kf4 Kg5 t2t Rdl Kg4 Kf5

If Nj3, ... R.xf7 and ... h3 wins. 67. Ke4 68. Nxb6 Rxf1

Resigns On Kxf!, mate in two.

(3) N.S.W. Championship {1933)

C. Purdy-G. Hastings Qyeen 's Gambit Accepted

1. d4 2. c4 3. Nf3 4. e3 5. Bxc4 6. 0-0 7. Qe2

d5 dxc4 Nf6 c5 e6 a6

The i!Y-<tl is reserved for d2 in case of . . . b5, a5, . . . b4 .

7 • • • • Nbd7 8. a4

White now prefers to stop ... b5 altogether, seeing that Black cannot fill the hole at b4 by .. .Nc6-b4.

8. 9. Nc3

10. Rdl 1 1. Bd2!

b6 Bb7 Qc7

At least as good as b3. White's idea is to utilize the c-file rapidly in order to avoid having to play h3.

1 1. Bd6 12. dxc5! Nxc5 13. Racl Qe7

If 73 .. . 0-0 (threatening . . . Bxj3 and . . . Bxh2f), 74. b4! Ncd7 75. e4 Bxb4 76. Bxe6! fxe6 7Z Nd5, regaining the .ft with advantage.

14. b4 Nce4 15. Nxe4 Nxe4 16. Bel! 0-0

If 76 ... Bxb4, 7Z @2 Bxe7 18. Nxe1 and White recovers the piece with advantage.

17. Bd3! Rfd8 Not 7Z .. Bxb4? 18. Bxb4 Q:b4 19. Rc4.

White had always to try to avoid b5, which would release the pressure.

18. Rc4 f5? Weakening, . . . Nf6 should equalize.

Thus, in spite of the utmost finesse, White has been unable to force an absolute advantage; this indicates that 8. Rd1 ! (allowing b5) is a shade better than 8. a4.

After the text, however, White should win.

- 224 -

His Games

19. Nd4 Kh8 20. f3

But here, less impatiently, Rdc1! 20. Nf6 21. e4 fxe4 22. fxe4 Nd7 23. Nc6 Bxc6 24. Rxc6 Bxb4 25. Bxb4 Qxb4 26. Bxa6 Ne5!? 27. Rxe6 Qxa4 28. Rxd8t Rxd8 29. h3 Ng6 30. Qb5! Qd1t

Black is again in a quagmire; exchange of�s gave some chance. Both players were now fighting their clocks.

31. Kh2 Rf8 32. Qxb6 Qe1 33. Qd6 Qf2 34. Qg3 Qa2 35. Rb6 Qa5 36. Rd6 Qa1??

Through time pressure, Black loses in one, but the ft up would win.

37. Rxg6 Resigns If .. . hxg6, � checks, A checks, Qj7!

forces a won ft ending.

(4) Match (1934)

G. Koshnitsky-C. Purdy Bird's Opening

1. f4 c5

Black refrains from ... d5, as it means playing White a move behind.

2. e3 e4 gives Black a favorable variation of

the Sicilian, while b3 could be met aggressively by ... d5-d4!

2. g6 3. Nf3 Bg7 4. Be2 Nf6 5. 0-0 0-0 6. d3

Adopting the formation which had worked well in the previous game, but perhaps better was Nc3, for b3, etc.

6. Nc6 7. Nc3 d6 8. Bd2 Rb8

Preparing to build up command of the �-side. In close games, the object is to get command of space where you can, and keep equilibrium where you can't.

9. a3 b5 10. Qe1 a5 1 1. Nd1

To make ... b4 stingless, but Q,h4 at once seems better.

11 . • • • Qb6 12. Qh4 d5

To keep White cramped, and deliberately offering him a tempting pseudo-freeing maneuver which will result in open lines favorable to the better developed sideBlack.

13. Ne5 14. fxe5 15. Qxe7 16. Nc3

Nxe5 Nd7 Nxe5

Hardly consistent, but White's game is difficult.

16. . . . Bb7 17. Qh4

To save the �. 17. . • . Rfe8

Prophylactic against e4. 18. Rae1 b4

- 225 -


Now that White has left the a-file. 19. axb3 axb3 20. Na4 Qc6 21. b3 Nd7

White has at least induced a temporary retreat-he threatened d4.

22. Bf3 f5 23. c4

Tempting, but creates fatal weaknesses. Bel at once for Bb2 to challenge Black's most dominating piece offered good resistance.

23. 24. Bel

25. Qf4

Qd6 Ne5

If 25. Be2, ... dxc4 26. dxc4 Be4, winning. 25. NxfJt 26. Rxf3 Be5 27. Qh4 Bf6

Anti-clock. 28. Qf4 Be5 29. Qh6?

Loses immediately. White was somewhat clock-pressed. But after 29. Qh4 Black wins by 29 .. . dxc4 30. Rh3 (if Q::c4t, ... Bd5 wins) cxd3!! 31. Q::h7f Kj8. If now 32. Bb2, .. . Bd5!, and White's attack dwindles to a few "spite checks."

29. dxc4 30. Rh3 Re7 31. dxc4 Be4

Threatens . . . Bc2. White's game is hopeless, and his next move is a desperate red herring, his opponent being mildly pressed for time.

32. g4? 33. Rh4 34. Nb2 35. Rf1

fxg4 Bf3 Bg3 Bxh2t

Black mates in two more moves.

(5) Match {1934)

C. Purdy-G. Koshnitsky OJteen 's Gambit

1. d4 Nf6 2. c4 e6 3. Nc3 d5 4. Bg5 Nbd7 5. cxd5 exd5 6. e3 c6 7. Bd3 Be7 8. Qc2 h6 9. Bh4 0-0

10. Nge2 ReS 1 1. 0-0-0

Made popular by Alekhine. 1 1. . . . b5

This, aiming ultimately at . .. b4 after preparation by .. . a5, ... a4, and . . . Qg5, is the most energetic counter.

12. h3 Ne4? All right on the previous move, but

now inconsistent. 13. Bxe7 14. Bxe4 15. g4

Qxe7 dxe4

Prepared by White's 12th, this strengthens Ng3.

15. . . . Nf6 16. Ng3 a6

Black's idea is to play . . . Be6 as soon as White plays Kbl (allowing . . . Bxa2f), but had Black properly visualized the ensuing endgame he would have chosen . .. a5! as his waiting move, and drawn.

17. Kbl Be6 18. Ncxe4

Ngxe4 is wrong. Why?

- 226 -

His Games

18 . . . . Nxe4 19. Qxe4 Bxa2t 20. Kxa2 Qxe4 21. Nxe4 Rx:e4 22. Rcl Re6 23. Rc5 Rf6 24. f4 Re6!

25. Re5 Rx:e5 Black had not foreseen his danger in

this ending. Had he played . . . aS on Move 16, he could draw by ... Rae8 (followed by . .f6), met by the terrible b4!, which now holds three fts with one. And if . .. aS first, 26. Rc1 forces .. . Ra6 or ... Rc8, and the aggressive .§s should win.

26. fxe5 c5 If . . . aS, 2Z Rc1 Ra6(if .. . Rc8, 28. dS) 28.

e4 Kf8 29. dS. 27. dxc5 ReS

If ... aS, 28. Rc1 followed by c6, ReS, and then W development, winning.

28. b4 a5? ... Kj8 gave more fight. 29. bxa5 Rx:c5 30. Kb3 Rxe5 31. a6 Rxe3t 32. Kb4 Re4t 33. Ka5

A valuable shelter! 33. . . . Ra4t 34. Kb6 b4 35. Rb1

Ending resistance. 35. Rl8 36. a7 Ke7

37. Kb7 38. gxf5 39. a8=Q 40. Kxa8 41. Rxb4 42. Kb7 43. Kc6 44. Rb5t 45. Rxh5 46. Rh4t 47. Rg4 48. Rx:g2

£5 K£6 Rx:a8 Kx£5 g5 h5 g4 K£4 g3 Kf3 g2 Resigns

(6) Match (1934)

G. Koshnitsky-C. Purdy English Opening

1. c4 e5 2. Nc3 Nc6 3. Nf3 f5 4. e3 Nf6 5. d4 e4 6. Nd2 g6

Losing a tempo, but . . . Bb4 is well met by NdS, while ... Be7 is obstructive. And 6 ... d6 is refuted by Z b4! with a big gain in space for White.

7. Be2 Bg7 8. 0-0 0-0 9. b4

Not so good now. Black emerges with the preferable game .

9. Nxb4 10. Ba3 a5 11. Qa4 d6 12. Bxb4 Bd7 13. Nb5 axb4 14. Qxb4 c5!

Black wants to open the long diagonal for his w-.\l.

15. Qb3 16. Nc3! 17. Nxb3

Qb6 Qxb3 Ra3

Gives strong pressure.

- 227 -


18. Racl Bc6 19. dxc5

Opening the diagonal, but correct. 19. dxc5 20. Nxc5 Nd7 21. Nb3!

For in order to regain the ft Black has to exchange the powerful .\1, and White should be able to draw.

21. 22. Rxc3 23. Nd4 24. Rb1 25. Rc2 26. Nxc2 27. Nd4 28. Bfl

Bxc3 Rxa2 Nc5 Rfa8 Rxc2 Ra2 Kf7

But this fatally hinders the develop-ment of White's �.

28. Ke7 29. h4 Kd6 30. Nxc6 Kxc6 31. Rd1 Rc2

Playing for . . . Nd3 and .. . Rxc4 in order to get a remote passed ft .

32. h5 gxh5 33. Rd5 b5! 34. Rxf5 b4

If . . . bxc4, 35. Bxc4! draws. 35. Rf6t Kc7 36. Rf5 Nd3 37. f3! b3 38. Rb5! b2 39. Kh2! Rf2

40. Bxd3??

A marvelous instance of mental aberration. White forgot his � could go back! After 40. Kg1 Rd2! 41. Kh2, Black has only one clear-cut win, namely, 41 ... Nj2! (threatening . . . Nd1-c3). If then 42. fxe4, ... Nxe4 wins, and if 42. Rh3 (say) , . . . h4!, threatening . .. Rd1, . . . Rxf1, and .. . Rh1#.

40. exd3 41. Kg3 Rc2

Resigns

(7) Match (1934)

C. Purdy-G. Koshnitsky Nimzo-Indian Defense

1. d4 Nf6 2. c4 e6 3. Nc3

Sharper than Nf3, if riskier. White was not playing for a draw.

3. . . . Bb4 4. Qc2

The only correct move! 4. d5 5. cxd5 Qxd5 6. Nf3 c5 7. Bd2 Bxc3 8. bxc3 Nc6 9. e3 0-0

10. Be2 A casual suggestion of Tartakover's.

Capablanca played c4. The text preserves the threat, thus inviting complications by . . . c4.

10. b6 11 . 0-0 c4 12. Ne1!

Black's last was influenced by his score. White's reply is knife-edged. Can Black exploit his opponent's cramp, or will White regroup in time? If White does, his command of the center will be demoniacal.

12. e5 13. f3 exd4

- 228 -

His Games

Loses. Koshnitsky suggested . . . Be6-much better, but then 16. Nc2 threatens both a4 and e4, e.g., 16 .. . Qg6 17. a4! a6 18. axb5 axb5 19. @2!, or 16 .. . a5 17. e4 Qg7 18. Bg5! b4 19. Qs3 b3 20. Bxf6 gxf6 21. d51eads to White's advantage.

16. a4! 17. Ne2 1S. axb5 19. Na3 20. Bxe4 21. Nxb5 22. Bb3 23. Qb2 24. d5 25. e4 26. Bf4 27. Rfcl 2S. Qd4 29. Qc3 30. Qd4

Ba6 RabS Bxb5 a6 Qd7 axb5 RdeS Ne8 Ne7 Nd6 Rb7 Ne4 Ne6 Ne7

Gaining on his clock. 30. Ne6 31. Qc3 Ne7 32. Bg3! h6 33. Qd3 Ra7 34. Rxa7 Qxa7t 35. Bf2 Qa3 36. Rb1 Qd6 37. g3 f5 3S. Bd4 fxe4

39. fxe4 Ng6 40. Bxe4 Rxe4!

By giving up a second ft , Black gets fighting chances. Koshnitsky's play is a lesson in how to fight a losing game.

41. Rxb5 Rcl t 42. Kg2 Qd7 43. RbSt Kh7 44. h3

Took White half an hour, leaving him 14 minutes for ten moves. Black threatened .. . Qg4, or .. .Nh4ffirst.

44 . . . . 45. Rb2 46. Bxe5 47. Re2

Forced.

Qe7 Ne5 Qxe5

47. . . . Re1 4S. d6! Qa1

Black has obtained the old �-and-� attack with the � correctly in front, as explained by Reti.

49. e5t g6 50. Re7t KhS 51. ReSt Kh7 52. Re7t Kh8 53. ReSt Kh7 54. d7

Although pressed for time, White still refrains from securing the championship with a draw.

54 . . . . 55. Kf3 56. Kg4 57. Rh8t 58. d8=Qt 59. Q3d4

and White won.

Rg1t Rf1t Qxe5 Kxh8 Kg7

The finish was instructive: 59 ... h5t 60. Kh4 Qxd4 61. Qxd4t Kh7 62. Qa7t Kh6 63. Qe3t Kh7 64. Qe7t Kh6 65. Qe5 Rf8 66. g4 hxg4 67. hxg4 Rg8 6S. Qf6 Rg7 69. g5t Kh7 70. Qf8! Ra7 71. Qh6t Kg8 72. Qxg6t Kh8 73. Qe8t Kg7 74. Kh5 Rf7 75. Qxf7t Resigns.

- 229 -


(8) Match (1934)

G. Koshnitsky-C. Purdy Reti s Opening

1. Nf3 d5 2. c4 e6 3. b3

Not correct, but played to avoid the simplifying .. . dxc4 (if 3. g3!). But "playing for complications" is two-edged!

3. c5 4. g3 Nc6 5. Bg2 Nf6 6. Bb2 d4 7. 0-0 Be7 8. d3 0-0 9. e4 e5

10. h3 Qc7! The game hinges on the possibility of a

White break by f4. 1 1. Qe2 Bd7 12. Nbd2 a6

Prepares for a break on the 'i;¥-side. 13. Kh2 b5 14. Nh4? g6

Proves White's last move a mistake, as the .1£J is now only a target. But even after 14. Ng1! Black prevents /4 by .. . Bd6 and . . . Nd8-e6.

15. Nhf3 Black can force this anyway by . .. NeB,

which helps the �-.ltl into g7-itsgoal. White considered this move for half an hour. His game is paralyzed, since f4 is ruled out forever-of course not 15. f4, because of . . . exf4 and . .. Nh5.

15. 16. Ng1 17. Racl

Nh5 Nd8

In a very cramped game, any plan must turn out to be bad! For example, if 17. Rae1 and Bel Black could attack on the 'i;¥side, playing . . . bxc4 as soon as White moved his 'i!¥-.ltl.

17. . . . Ne6 18. Rc2 b4

Changing over to .. . a5-a4. 19. Bel Bg5 20. Ngf3 Be7 21. Ne1 a5 22. Bf3 Nhg7 23. Ng2 Bc6 24. Re1 Bd6 25. g4

For air! By courting the opening of the g-file, White utilizes his 13th move. Black must now abandon the 'i;¥-side temporarily and try to put the opening up of the �-side to his own advantage.

25. . . . f5

26. gxf5 27. Nfl 28. Bg4 29. Nd2 30. Rgl 31 . Nf3 32. Ngh4 33. Rxg4!

gxf5 f4! Kh8 Be7 Be8 Bh5 Bxg4

White's recovery is rather illusory: the � and A out of play must tell. Very plausible was 33. hxg4 (for Nj5), but Black wins nicely by 33 ... Bxh4 34. Nxh4 Q57 35. Nj5 Nxf5 36. exf5 (forced) Rxj5!!

33. • . • Rf6! For . . . RafB and . . . Rh6 followed by

... Bxh4 and ... Q57 or ... Qj8--to force White either to play Nj5 and lose a ft or to retire into his former seclusion.

34. Ng5

- 230 -

His Games

To make room for the VJ/-� , per f3. 34. Nxg5 35. Rxg5 Rh6 36. Rxg7 Rxh4 37. Rg4 Qd7! 38. f3

Best, since Rxh4?only helps Black's .Q. into g3 when f3 comes. Not 3 8. Rxh4 Bxh4 39. Q,h5??because of . . . Qg7!! [Eel.: Perhaps an hallucination. After 40. Qxh4 Rg8 Black gets stopped with 41. Qg4, forever.]

38. Rxh3t 39. Kxh3 h5 40. Qh2

If, say, 40. Qj1 (for Rg2), . . . hxg4f 41. fxg4 Bh4!, etc.

40. hxg4t 41. Kg2t Kg7 42. Qh5 Qe6 43. fxg4 Rh8 44. Qf5 Qxf5

Or . . . Qf6!, forcing White to exchange (to avoid Black's . . . Q,h4!); but the ending is won for Black anyway, owing to White's irremediable cramp. Not 44 . . . Q,h6?because of �e5fand Q!t5.

45. gxf5 Bh4 46. Re2 Bg3 47. Rd2

The lost tempo makes no vital differ-ence.

47. Kf6 48. Kf3 Rh1 49. Bb2 Kg5 50. a3 Rf1t 51. Kg2 Re1 52. f6

Taking the one chance-that Black, who was in clock trouble, might play . . . Kg4 (correct) and then not see the win after 53. Rf2 (a problem for beginners). Black, being hurried, took the slower way.

52. . . . Kxf6 and Black won.

The finish was 53. axb4 axb4 54. Kf3

Kg5 55. Bel (for a stalemate joke) Rf1 t 56. Kg2 Rxcl 57. Kh3 Rhl t 58. Kg2 Rh2t 59. Kf3 Rf2t (not . . . Rxd2 ??) 60. Rxf2 Bxf2 61. Kxf2 Kh4, White resigns.

(9) Australian Championship (1937)

C. Purdy-G. Koshnitsky Qyeen s Gambit

The following was about Purdy's only good game in the tournament. It was played in the ninth round, when he had to win, as a draw was enough to make Koshnitsky almost a certainty.

1. d4 Nf6 2. c4 e6 3. Nc3 d5 4. Bg5 Be7 5. e3 0-0 6. Rcl

A transposition, the idea being to take the game out of the normal lines if Black plays the somewhat drawish Lasker Defense, . . . Ne4.

6. 7. Nf3 8. Bd3

c6 Nbd7

Refusing to "play the score," White chooses a line that allows simplification in preference to the more complicated Qs2. It sometimes pays to let an opponent with drawish intentions "have his head" if his style is not normally drawish.

8. dxc4 9. Bxc4 Nd5

10. Bxe7 Qxe7 1 1. 0-0

Alekhine's Ne4, to avoid simplification, has lost all its sting. White must permit the simplification and have faith in his superior development.

1 1. . . . 12 . Rxc3

Nxc3 c5

Koshnitsky had intended to play this

- 23 1 -


in the 77. Ne4 variation ( 11. Ne4 N5f6 12. Ng3 c5!, Euwe-Fine, Nottingham 1936) and had got "mixed." But the text has been played in this position, and may be safer than 12 ... e5, which allows White such a wide choice of reply.

13. Qc2 This works out all right, but Qs2 is

probably sounder. The '(g should nearly always go to e2 in this opening. White's idea was to storm the c-file.

13. cxd4 14. Nxd4 Nb6 15. Rcl! Bd7

To exchange would help White to the seventh rank.

16. Qe4! Rfb8 The other � seems better.

17. Bb3 Much better than Bd3, when Black's 4J

has access to dS; Black now has only one move . . .

20. R7c3 White had a pretty combination, start

ing with 20. Nxe6!! It looks dubious, as it leaves the 4J pinned and the � en prise. Of course, Black cannot take either of these worthies at once, nor can he play 20 .. . RcB, as White wins a .ft by exchange of � s followed by Qs5! And if 20 .. . KhB to get the '3;1 off the line of the .\l, White wins delightfully by 21. Ng5!!White's immediate threat

is simply to unpin by 21. Qj4. But the defense that made White worry

was 20 .. . RdB!White must then give up his "(ff by 21. NxdB! Q!e5 22. Rxd7. Now the crushing answer to either 22 .. . Nd6 or 22 . . . Q!b2 is simply 23. Rcd1. The point is to reserve the option of taking atf7 with .\l, 4], or � . Black could avoid immediate loss by 22 ... h6, but 23. Rxf7! Kh7 24. Ne6, threatening mate by Bc2f and Rj8, is probably decisive. Or 22 .. . h5 23. Nxf7! Q!b2 24. Rcd1 Kh7 25. Ng5ffollowed by h4, and again the attack should be hot enough to win.

However, White could be excused for "funking" such complications, even after 40 minutes' thought!

Black had played 19 . . . NeB with the idea that the combination was unsound. Otherwise 19 .. . RcB, leaving White with pressure but nothing clear. That is what White still has.

20. 21. Qa5 22. Qb6 23. Rxc3

Rc8 a6 Rxc3 e5?

Black is too impatient to free his game. He gives himself a weak .ft and opens the white .\i's diagonal. Open lines benefit the better-developed army. Of course White must not play 24. Q!b7??

24. N£3 Bc6 Black is lost. If 24 ... Bg4 or ... Bj5, 25.

Nxe4!!wins. If 24 .. . RbB, 25. Qs5wins. 25. Qc5 Qxc5 26. Rxc5 e4 27. Ne5 Rd8 28. Nxc6!

Simpler than 28. Nxj7 Rd2, etc., as White can now force the exchange of �s, or else have two remote passed .fts. .fts on the '3;/-side are comparatively useless.

28. . . . bxc6 29. Rxc6 Kf8

The point! Black has to lose his tempo, and White keeps his b- .ft .

- 232 -

His Games

30. Kf1 Rd2 31. Bc2 f5 32. Ke1 Rd5

For some reason Black thought this less hopeless than . . . Rd6, allowing the exchange of �s. The continuation was 33. Rxa6 Nf6 34. Ra8t Ke7 35. Ra7t Kf8 36. Bb3 Rc5 37. Rf7t Ke8 38. Rxg7, and after a few more moves Black resigned.

( 1 0) Australian Championship (1937)

L. Steiner-C. Purdy Sicilian Defense

The feature of the game is an all-conquering passed .ft which Y!Js in the face of a whole army.

1. e4 2. N£3 3. d4 4. Nxd4 5. Nc3 6. Be2 7. Be3 8. f3

c5 d6 cxd4 Nf6 g6 Bg7 Nc6 0-0

Black cannot yet play . . . d5 because of Bb5! Black assumed that White's idea was to induce him to castle and now play 9. g4! for a 'ifil-side attack, central counterattack by . . . d5 being impossible on account of g5; and Steiner afterwards admitted that this would have been his most energetic procedure. But he continues in a more positional style.

9. Qd2 d5 10. Nxc6 bxc6 1 1. e5

Steiner's favorite move! 1 1. . . . Nd7 12. f4 e6

Have you not sometimes rebelled at Nimzovich's insistence on centralization, e.g., the necessity for dislodging a .ft I e5 by .. f6, and wondered what would happen if

you just left it there? Here, Black is tempted to take that very course, partly because after 12 . . . f6! 13. exf6Bxf6 14. O-O e5 15.fxe5Nxe5 White's Yl!-A is freed. Black wanted to keep that A blocked by its own .ft /f4. But Black in the 12 . . . f6! line would have a free game and a good hold on the center-at least an equal position.

Black also had another, more logical reason to ignore Nimzovich. He thought he could gain the initiative in the center with . . . c5. But he finds he can't, and is left with extremely difficult problems to solve.

The moral is: Don't ignore a .ft/e5! 13. 0-0 Qe7

After long thought, Black regretfully decides not to play . .. c5 after all, because White could compel either the c- .ft or d- .ft to advance a step further, creating a weakness, e.g., 13 ... c5 14. Na4 Qs7 15. Qs3! c4 16. b4! with a potential passed .ft . Or 14 ... d4 15. Bj2 and White threatens b4, and if 15 .. . a5, 16. c3!

14. Na4! a5! 15. Qc3

Leads to tricky play requiring very exact calculation by the defense; but Black was more afraid of the quieter 15. c4. It would carry no threat, but seems to give White a useful initiative.

15. Ba6 16. Bxa6 Rxa6 17. Nc5 Raa8 18. a4

To fix the isolated .ft . Not 18. Nb7? Nxe5! nor 18. Nb3 a4 19. Nd4 Rfc8!

18. • • • Rfc8 19. Nb3

Too ambitious. White should have maintained the blockade by 19. Nxd7 OJ.d7 20. Bc5 Bj8 21. Rf3, but this seemed too barren of winning chances. Not 19. Nxd7 OJ.d7 20. Bb6?, as Black wins a piece by 20 ... c5!, etc.

19. • • • c5

- 233 -


20. Qel c4! A deceptive move, as the ostensible

idea is simply to cut off the �'s retreat after 21. Nxa5. In making prolonged calculations on this basis, Steiner forgot to search for any other devilry the move might contain, and thus overlooked its real purpose altogether.

21. Nxa5? The only move was 21. Nd4 with a

shade of advantage for Black after .. .Nc5. 21. c3! 22. Nb3 cxb2 23. Ra2?

An attempt to keep the a- ft and thus maintain equal material. Who would dream that the move loses offhand? But it does. After 23. Rh 1 Rxc2 24. Nd4 (best) Rc4 25. Rxb2 Raxa4 Black is a passed ft up, but the game would not be easily won.

23. . . • Rxc2

Three ¥tis on the board as early as the 25th move are quite an uncommon sight.

25. Nxcl bl=Q 26. Rfb2 Qe4

And Black won: 27. a.5 f6 28. exf6 Bxf6 29. Re2 Bd4 30. Nb3 Bxe3t 31. Rxe3 Q4b4 32. Rd2 Nc5 33. Nd4 Qd6 34. Nf3 Qdxf4 35. g3 Qf6 36. Qe2 Ne4 37. Rc2 Qxa5 38. Kg2 Qa6 39. Qd1 Rf8 40. Rb3 Ng5 and White resigned.

�) ( I I ) Australian Correspondence

Championship (1938) C. Purdy-F. Crowl Nimzo-lndian Defense

1. d4 Nf6 2. c4 e6 3. Nc3 Bb4 4. e3 0-0 5. Nge2 ReS

Purdy favors 7. e4 in correspondence play, but played 7. d4 against Crawl in anticipation of this variation (a Nimzovich one). Better is 5 ... d5.

6. a3 Bf8 7. e4!

The point! Against Con don in the South Australian Championship ( 1937), Purdy played 7. g3, which did not give much.

A paradox! Black has only one piece 7. • • • e5 actively in play, while all of White's are White had expected .. . d6 first, and available for defense. Yet White has not a would then have answered .. . e5 with d5. His single move on the board to avoid immediate disaster! Can a passed ft have such power? White pondered for 30 minutes in vain.

24. Rf2 Rcl! This was the pretty threat, which White

could have parried in only two ways: 24. Qg3?, losing a l:'=l forthwith, or 24. Qj 1 ?, when Black wins a piece by 24 ... Rc3! The loose pieces, therefore, were the deciding factor-the lt the �' and the ):'=l/a2.

a3 would have assisted the ¥11-side push Qj4, etc. But now 8. d5 would be met by 8 ... aS and 9 . .. Bc5.

8. dxe5 Ng4 9. Ng3 Qh4?

With the good idea of sacrificing a ft to get an attack, but overlooking a tactical point.

10. Be2 d6 Hoping for 71. exd6, which would give

Black a strong initiative.

- 234 -

His Games

1 1. Nb5! Na6 12. exd6 cxd6

If 12 .. . Rd8, probably 13. Bd2; and if then 13 ... c6, 14. NcZ

13. (tc2 d5! Black has a losing position, but this

sacrifice of a second .ft gives him counterchances.

14. cxd5 Nxh2!? Creates weird complications, Black's

only hope. 15. Be3 Bd7 16. (td2

Gets White's 'lt!f off the exposed file and threatens to win Black's. Black has a reply that seems to save him.

16. . . . Rxe4! 17. 0-0-0

White could not afford either Nxe4 or Rxh2, but now these are threats, and Black must lose at least the Exchange in all variations, e.g., 7Z .. Re5 18. QjA Q3d4 19. Bxd4 Rxe2 20. Nxe2 Bxb5 21. Nc3 and Black must lose one of the two pieces he has for his t:! . Black decides to make a virtue of necessity.

17. Rxe3 18. (txe3 Bc5 19. Nd4 Re8 20. (td3! g6

There was a masked threat to Black's h7, and Nj5 would also become a threat.

21. Kb1 White must evade .. . Qf4f before he

can exploit the pinned 4). 21. ... Bd6!

It is amazing how, despite his pinned 4), Black continues to maintain a fight by tactical finesses. If now 22. Nf3, . . . Q3g3!!

22. Ka2 White rightly chose this in preference

to KaT to give less encouragement to ... Nc5. 22. Nc7 23. Nf3

Finding it strangely difficult to exploit the pin, White now releases it, having worked out a combination to win more material; but that should have made the win very hard. White's worry was that Black was threatening .. . Nxd5!, as a white recapturer would be subject to a pin by ... Be6. To obviate this the right move was 23. Ka l!!!, leaving Black helpless. Having already played Kb 1-a2, however, this third � move was extraordinarily difficult to see.

23. • • • (ta4 24. Rxh2 Bb5

In this position White had counted on playing 25. Qj,4, which enables him to remain at least a clear � up in all variations. Now, however, he saw that Black would sacrifice still more material after 25. Qj,4 with 25 ... Rxe2!!! 26. Nxe2 Bc4f (not on with White's �/al) 2Z Kb1 Nb5!Then White is a � and 4) up, but is faced with a terrific concentration of force on his �, by which Black should at least draw.

A wonderful lesson in the futility of mere material in chess!

Baulked of his planned prey, White has yet a resource that gives a steady win.

25. Rh4! By introducing his hitherto dead � ,

White eliminates danger and keeps enough material plus to win despite the two �s. Black could have made a lengthy resistance, but preferred to keep complications.

25. (ta6 26. (td2 Bxe2

- 235 -

The Search for Chess Perftction

27. Rcl! Nb5? White has deliberately played to in

duce this meretricious move. He allows his own � to be caught in a mating net, but wins the game before the net can close.

28. Qh6 Bxa3 29. Qxh7t Kf8 30. Qh8t Ke7 31. Re4t Kd6 32. Qf6t Resigns

( 1 2) Australian Correspondence

Championship (1938) C. Purdy-R. Condon

Ruy Lopez

1. e4 2. Nf3 3. Bb5 4. Nc3

e5 Nc6 Nge7

Not 4. d4, when Black gets a comparatively easy game by 4 .. . exd4 5. Nxd4 d5!

4. . . . g6 5. d4

Must be good. The customary move is 5. Nd5, but its merit is uncertain.

5. exd4 6. Nxd4 Bg7 7. Be3

A point in White's system is that having developed his �-4) at e7, Black can never threaten to hit this A by .. . Ng4.

7. 0-0 8. Qd2 d6 9. 0-0-0 a6

10. Bxc6! Although this exchange frees Black a

little and concedes the two As, a valuable tempo is gained for White's attack. Besides, the A had no very good square (Ba4 or Bc4 would have encouraged .. . b5).

10. . . . Nxc6 If 10 ... bxc6, 11. Bh6 Bxh6 12. Q!,h6 f5

(else comes Nj3-g5!) 13. Nj3! Rj7 14. Ng5

Rg7 15. e5 with a decisive attack. 1 1. h4 Be6 12. h5 Qf6 13. hxg6 hxg6 14. Nxe6 fxe6

Preventing Bh6. Rather than lose a tempo to make that move feasible, White abandons it in favor of a new plan of attack.

15. f4! Rad8?

An oversight, but in any case White has a winning attack starting with g4.

16. f5 Nb4 This merely trappy move ultimately

loses Black a tempo. His next move, giving up the exchange for a .ft. in preference to having his �-side completely wrecked, should have been played at once.

17. Kb1 Not Bg5? Nxa2f.

17. exf5 18. Bg5 Qfl 19. Bxd8 Rxd8 20. exf5 gxf5

Of course not .. . Bxc3?? 21. Q!,c3 Q!,a2f 22. Kc1, as Black then has no move.

21. Qg5 Rf8 22. Rh4!

This, instead of the obvious a3, gains a tempo for doubling �s.

22. Nc6 23. Nd5 ReS 24. Rdh1 Qxd5 25. Qg6! Kf8 26. Rh8t Bxh8 27. Rxh8t Ke7

- 236 -

His Games

28. Qxe8t Kf6 Kg5 Kf4 Ke3

29. Rh6t 30. Qh5t 31. Qh4t 32. Re6t?

White's last seven moves were posted as a series of conditionals with his 25th, and 32. Re6f was inserted as a subvariation, White having forgotten that the 4J could interpose. This slip prolongs the game, of course.

32. Ne5 33. Qe1t Kf4 34. g3t Kg4 35. Re7 Qg2 36. Rxc7 Nf3?

An oversight in a lost game. 37. Rg7t Kh5

If 3Z .. Ng5, 38. Qs1! If 3Z . . Kh3, 38. Rh7fand 39. Qj4f.

38. Qe8t Kh6 39. Qg6#

( 1 3) Private Match (1938)

C. Purdy-F. Crowl Ruy Lopez

Notes marked (G) are by Goldstein, from the "West Australian."

1. e4 e5 2. Nf3 Nc6 3. Bb5 Nf6 4. 0-0 d6 5. d4 Bd7 6. Re1 Be7 7. c4

"Apparently new at this stage. White prevents for all time Black's freeing maneuver in the center, . . . d5" (G).

7. 0-0 8. Nc3 Re8 9. Bxc6

The black 4), bearing on the central squares e5 and d4, is an important piece in

this opening, and often worth the white ��. Here, with the center so clogged by fts on light squares, that � had little future.

9. . . . Bxc6 10. h3

A little calculation will show the student that neither here nor on the next move could White win the e- ft without losing his own and getting behind in development. The move played is better than it looks, but simple and strong was 10. Nd5!If 10 ... Bxd5, 11. cxd5 and Black has a backward c- ft .

10. . . . h6 Black prepares for . . . BJB by first pre

venting the pin. 1 1. Qc2 12. b3

Bf8 Bd7

A good point about White's exchange on Move 9 was that this � would sooner or later have to retrace its steps in order to have any play, with consequent loss of time. Also, the merit of 10. h3 is now clear, as . . . Bg4 would threaten to exchange off the 4J that bears so powerfully on e5 and d4.

13. Bb2 c6 14. Rad1 Qc7

Black now has the well-known Hanham formation, which Crowl likes. In addition, Black has the two �s. Strangely enough, however, the absence of Black's �-4:'1 turns out to be worse for him than the absence of his �-� does to White. In such positions, one usually sees a white � lounging lifelessly on e2 or somewhere while the black �-4:'1 either supports the point e5 from d7 or else meanders into e6 or g6 and pulls his weight.

15. Rd2 Rad8 16. Red1

- 237 -


The position is interesting. Crowl was under the impression that he had an excellent game, while Purdy felt rather mystified, thinking that Crowl's game looked good on general considerations but not seeing any satisfactory move for Crowl. If 76 .. . BcB White wins a ft , and if 76 .. . Nh7 (suggested by Crowl) , then 7Z c5! Ng5 78. Nxg5 hxg5 79. cxd6 Bxd6 20. dxe5 Bxe5 27. Nh5! with advantage. Crowl's optimism finds expression in a wild '1!7-side pawnstorm.

16. . . . g5? The best answer to a flank attack is an

attack in the center if possible. So . . . 17. c5! g4 18. cxd6 Bxd6 19. dxe5 gxf3 20. exd6 Q.a5 21. Rd3 Nxe4 22. Nxe4 Rxe4 23. Rxf3

"White is now a strong passed pawn to the good. Black's only chance of saving the game rests on 'Bishops on opposite colors' " (G).

23. Bf5 24. b4! Q.d5! 25. Rxd5 Re1t 26. Kh2 Bxc2 27. Rd2 Bg6 28. Bf6 Rd7 29. h4 Re6 30. Be7 Re4 31. b5

"Decisive, opening a file for one of his

Rooks to enter the eighth rank" (G). The ending is lost for Black because one of his )::(s is tied.

31. 32. Bf6 33. Rc3 34. Re3 35. Rg3t 36. Rg5 37. f3 38. Kg3 39. Be7 40. Rxh5t 41. Rh8 42. Rf8 43. Kf2 44. g4 45. fxg4 46. h5

cxb5 h5 Rc4 Be4 Kh7 a6 Bb1 Rc6 f6 Kg6 Kg7 Bg6 f5 fxg4 Bf7 Rcxd6

Black blunders, but his game was past hope.

4 7. Bxd6 Rxd6 48. Rxf7t Resigns

( 1 4) Australian Correspondence

Championship (1938) C. Purdy-A. Harris

Sicilian Difense

One of the most interesting games from this tourney is one that did not count! Harris wrote down a move he did not intend, and resigned on the following move. Purdy claimed that he had a winning advantage in any case, and the game was played out as a friendly challenge. Its interest lies in the unusual but very successful method of countering the Paulsen system.

1. e4 c5 2. N£3 e6 3. d4 cxd4 4. Nxd4 Nf6 5. Nc3 d6 6. g3!

- 238 -

His Games

Recommended by Becker, but we have never before seen it tried. The .Q. usually finds its way to the fianchetto diagonal ultimately, via e2 and f3, but there it is sometimes in the way of other pieces.

6. . . . a6 7. Bg2 Qc7!

First point: ... b5 is held up because of e5. Black's last move crosses White's fell design of fianchettoing the other .ll also, when his two .\ls would rake the center.

8. 0-0 Nbd7 9. Qe2 Rb8

10. a4 b6

Unfortunately, Black wrote down

16. h3! White found this the hardest move in

the game. All the aggressive lines failed, and he reluctantly decided that he must quietly free his Yf/ from the defense of the g- ft .

16. Nc5 17. Nd2 Rd8 18. Qc4! �d7

Better to bring the .§ back to c8, but such a doddering policy did not appeal to Black. He hopes now for 19. b4?, when comes 19 . . . Nxa4!

19. Qb4! Apparently places the Yff in jeopardy,

but she is all right. If 19 . . . Qs7, 20. Nc4. Black decides to give up freely that which must fall.

19. 20. exd5 21. d6

Important. 21. 22. Qxb6 23. Qxb7

d5 Nce4

Bxd6 Nxc3

" .. . b5, "a clerical error that lost him a ft and position as well. After 71. axb5 he resigned on. at once. The game that should have been

Without d6, this would not have been

23. Qxb7 Ncd5 then proceeded.

White thought he should win because of his better command of space in almost all parts of the board and the strength of his forthcoming advance of the f-ft . And yet Black has played quite in accordance with the Paulsen system!

1 1. f4 Bb7 White threatened e5.

12. f5! e5 Black thought he could stand the back-

ward d- ft . 13. Nb3 14. g4 15. Be3

Be7 h6 Rc8

If Black castled there would be trouble from h4, etc.

24. Bxb7 25. Bf2

and won. Black's game was now lost, and he ceased work, finishing up with an oversight or two: 25 ... Rb8 26. Bxa6 Rxb2? 27. Nc4 Resigns.

( I S) N.S.W. v. Victoria (Telex Match 1943)

C. Purdy-G. Lamparter Benoni Defense

1. d4 e6 Lamparter is always keen to play some

thing unorthodox. Therefore White chooses a second move (e4) to which the only good reply is orthodox (2 .. . d5).

- 239 -


2. e4 c5 Transposing into the Benoni Counter

Gambit, but ... e6 doesn't fit in well. 3. d5 Nf6 4. Nc3 exd5

This could be met by 5. Nxd5! (if 5 ... Nxd5, 6. Q:d5 ), giving Black a "strategically lost game" with a backward .ft on an open file. White's actual reply gives him less advantage.

5. exd5 d6 6. Nf3 Be7 7. Bd3

To prevent the good development of Black's ¥11-A at f5. Also, White rather hoped that Black would now fianchetto his ¥11-A, attacking White's d-.ft but getting his A cramped. This did happen.

7. a6 8. a4 b6 9. Bf4 Bb7

10. Bc4 Qd7!? White has three loose units (two ,ils

and the g-.ft ) and . .. Qg4 is a deadly threat. However, the move violates a principle, and White finds a way to turn its edge against the violator.

11 . h3 Qf5 12. Bh2 h5

Without this, Black is always threatened with g4 if ever he plays .. . Nbd7.

13. Qd2 And Black still can't play .. . Nbd7 be

cause Bd3 wins his ¥/J. Nor does he care to castle �-side after ... h5. Having no inviting move, a player often hypnotizes himself into a blunder, and so here.

13. . . . Ne4?? 14. Qd3 Rh6!

Black has no move to save his �, and therefore does not try, but plays the only move to give White a chance to go wrong. If now 15. Nxe4, Black was finished. However, White had consumed a long time weaving his nets, and now erroneously thought he

had six moves to make in five minutes. 15. Qxe4? Re6!!

The Lamparter touch. White has a counter, however, which enables him to come out at least the Exchange up in all variations.

16. Ne5 Qg5

.• �� -1.� %.;�� '% ��::��-- �� %%� ��-�i'_?f{;.��t� � " -� ft � \UJ l�i.��- �� ft ��'�·<i".a. ��'zf"�'rM "" � ..!!. � "' � ..!!. 00 �- - '� "�-- - ,�� , , � '-·" �

A player often spends most of his time on moves he never plays. Now, for instance, having learned that he was not in clock trouble at all, White pondered deeply over 17. dxe6, because in one variant it would produce an "immortal" (chess slang for a sacrifice of ¥11 and both .§s) . Thus 17. dxe6Bxe4 18. exj7f Kj8 (not . . . Kd8 19.j8=Qj Bxj8 20. � forks); 19. Nxe4 Q,xg2 ( . . . Qj5 is another line) 20. Bd5!! Q:h1f 21. Ke2 Q:a1 22. Ng6#! or 21 .. . Qg2 24. Rg1, etc.

Delightful, but if 20 .. . dxe5 (21. Nc3 then), White's win is not as clear as in the simple line he actually chooses. On Move 18. White again gave much time to dxe6.

17. h4 Qf6 18. Qe2 Rxe5 19. Bxe5 dxe5 20. Qxh5 Nd7 21. Qe2

Prevents castling and threatens to castle. 21. • • . Qh6! 22. Rd1

White begins woodshifting. Here 22. g4! would prevent any progress by Black whatsoever (if 22 ... Bxh4?, 23. g5).

22. f5! 23. Qd2 Qg6

- 240 -

His Games

24. Kf1 Nf6 25. Qe2 Bd6 26. h5 Qh7 27. Rd3 Kf7!

Hatching a little plot which comes off and enables Black to make a spirited fight. Both players were short of time.

28. Rdh3? b5! 29. Ba2

Refusing to give Black counterplay in the a-file.

29. • • • Qh6 Tempting is 29 ... c4, but 30. axb5 axb5

31. Nxb5! Rxa2 32. Nxd6f Ke7 33. @c4 [Ed.: 33. @e5 is more explicit and virtually eliminates cheap shots by Black.] Ra 1 f 34. Ke2 wins. If 34 .. . Ba6, 35. Nb5.

Ineffective also is 29 .. . b4 30. Nd1, as the cl- ft cannot be taken.

30. Qe3 Qh7 Black's fun is over. To regain his ft he

would have to swap ¥/Js. Or if 30 .. . f4, 31. Qs2! with no more troubles.

31. a.xb5 a.xb5 32. Nxb5 Ba6 33. Bc4 Bxb5 34. Bxb5 f4

35. Qcl e4 36. Ra3 Rxa3 37. bxa3 Nxh5 38. Rh3 Qf5 39. Bd7 (White was again racing his clock) Qxd5 40. Bg4 Nf6 41. Qd1, adjudicated a win for White.

White's El. is now mobile. With "the Exchange" up, the remote passed ft gives a sure win. A good rough-and-tumble.

( 1 6) N.S.W. Championship (1944)

C. Purdy-L. Steiner Sicilian Defense

(Notes by M E. Goldstein.)

1. e4 c5 2. Nf3 b6

Klass states that there are "book" examples of this move, which Steiner played

on the spur of the moment presumably to get Purdy short of time. After considering the miserable position reached on his 22nd move, I doubt whether Steiner will play it again in a hurry.

3. d4 4. Nxd4 5. Nc3 6. Be2 7. 0-0 8. Be3 9. f4!

cxd4 Bb7 g6 Bg7 Nc6 Nf6

With a tremendous grip on the center. Black's b- ft blocks the normal reaction by . . . QJ6.

9. . • . 0-0 10. Bf3 Na5

White reaps a big advantage from this, though in any case Black's position was inferior.

11 . e5 12. Bxb7 13. Qf3 14. Rad1 15. b3! 16. Ne4 17. c4 18. Bxd4 19. Ba1 20. f5! 21. Qxf5 22. Rf3

Ne8 Nxb7 Na5 Nc7 Qc8 Nc6 Nxd4 Ne6 Qc6 gxf5 Rad8 Nc5

White is already in a winning position, and Black has only a choice of evils.

23. Nf6t! exf6 24. exf6 Bh6 25. Qh5

White later pointed out a neat win by 25. Rh3! Qs6 26. @5 Be3f 2Z Kh 1 h6 28. Re 1. Stein er then intended .. . Bg5!, giving up his ¥/1; but White's material advantage of¥/1 and ft against El. and � must win in the long run.

25. 26. Qxh6

Kh8 Rg8

- 24 1 -


27. Rd5 28. Bc3 29. Qh3?

Qe6 Rg6

This gives Black real chances. 29. . . • Rdg8 30. Rd2

Now Black could force simplifying exchanges by 30 . . . Ne4 31. Q;ce6 dxe6, and Black recovers the f-ft with a slightly inferior � ending. But, seeing that Purdy was very short of time, Stein er preferred to keep up the complications.

30 • • • • 31 . Rf1

Qe4 Nd3

Now came the succession of incidents which made chess history. Both players, pressed for time and evidently flustered, omitted to record their next dozen moves. Noticing that Stein er's flag had fallen, Purdy suggested stopping the clocks and reconstructing the play from Move 32. Unfortunately, before the existing position after the clock race could be recorded it was dismantled by Purdy, suffering a natural reaction from the excitement of the previous five minutes. The players, after consulting with spectators, found that they had apparently completed 44 moves, with Purdy still a ft ahead and in the better position.

However, as players could not agree on the final position reached, it was referred

to the Games and Tournaments Committee. The game was ordered to be replayed from Move 32, the times being estimated at Purdy: one hour 56.25 minutes, and Steiner: one hour 55 minutes. Both players were put on their horror not to look at the position during the adjournment.

When the players were about to resume the following evening, Purdy's clock several times started of its own volition, assisted by vibration from the passing traffic. After further clock adjustment, during which time both players' nerves were on edge, play continued.

33. Re2 Sealed and forcing Black's reply. 33. Qh4 34. Bel Qd4t 35. Khl Nd3

The obvious reply 36. Rd2 gives Black good drawing chances by . . . Nxe1! Pondering this, Purdy was suddenly told that his time was up, and he spasmodically played Re4. Purdy stated that he was intending 36. Bfl!

It was then found that the Director, in adjusting the clock before Move 33, had let the seconds-hand run on, but had omitted to put back the minute-hand. Mr. F. Ross allowed Purdy one minute's grace, and play was resumed.

The Committee afterwards pointed out that this was Purdy's mistake. His proper course, if he felt himself prejudiced through the incident of the faulty clock, was to refuse to continue play, and if then ordered to do so by the Director, to consent only under protest, and giving notice there and then of an appeal to the Committee.

The game continued . . . 36. Re4 Nxdl 37. Rfxel! Qxf6 38. Qxf6t Rxf6 39. Re7! Rf2 40. Rxd7?

- 242 -

His Games

White's last move to beat his clock; a blunder, giving Black two E!s on the second. Mter the natural 40. g3, Black still has to fight for the draw, which he should obtain by 40 ... Rj8! 41. Rxd7 Rxa2 42. Ree7 RaJ (or ... R.h2!) 43. Rxa7 Rxb3 44. Rxfl Rxfl 45. Rxfl R.h2 and 46 ... Rc2 (Steiner) .

40. . . . Rgxg2 41. Rxf7??

White was past his clock trouble but was evidently badly rattled. The obvious 41. Rxa7 forces Black to take a perpetual check.

41. 42. Kgl 43. Kxh2 44. Kg3 45. Re7

Rxh2t Rxf7 Rf2t Rxa2

A miscalculation. Re3, followed by a � march, would give drawing chances. The conclusion was: 45 ... Ra3 46. Kf4 Rxb3 47. Rxa7 Rb4 48. Kg5 (if 48. Rc7, .. . b5!) Rxc4 49. Ra8t Kg7 50. Ra7t Kg8 (which White had overlooked on his 45th move) 51. Ra8t Kf7 52. Ra7t Ke6 53. Rxh7 b5 (leading to a "book" win, White's � being too far away. Reuben Fine in Basic Chess Endings gives the general rule that, for a b- or g- ft on the fourth/fifth rank, the hostile � must be cut off at a distance of three files from the ft , i.e., on the f-file in this case) 54. Rb7 b4 55. Rb6t Kd5 56. Kf5 Kd4 57. Rb8 Kc3 58. Ke5 b3 59. Ra8 b2 60. Ra3t Kc2 61. Ra2 Kb3 62. Resigns.

In giving these details of a curious succession of incidents, I must emphasize that both players remained good friends. Both were at fault in not recording their last 12 moves, a duty which is laid down in the F.I.D.E. rules. Purdy suffered grieviously for dismantling the position in the heat of the moment, but a player of his experience should have known better.

Considering the game itself, Purdy's strategic maneuvering and .:tl sacrifice were

first-class, as was Steiner's defense of a very difficult middlegame position.

( 1 7) Australian Championship (1945)

C. Watson-C. Purdy French Defense

1. e4 e6 My nerveless fingers were incapable of

pushing anything more than one square. 2. d4 d5

Both hands for this. 3. Nc3 Nf6 4. exd5 Nxd5

Better than the "book" 4... exd5, as Black's .:tl should not be at f6 in the Exchange Variation. If now 5. Nxd5, Black can quite well play 5 .. . Q:,d5, avoiding symmetry.

5. Nf3 Euwe, in his Theorie der Schaakopeningen,

recommends 5. Ne4, but clearly Black's game must be satisfactory, for Black then has the 3 ... exd5 variation with �/d5 instead of back at g8.

5. . . • Nxc3 White evidently invited this to strength

en his center. However, I hoped the doubled fts would also prove to have a weak side.

6. bxc3 c5 7. Bb5t!? Bd7 8. a4 Bxb5 9. axb5

White has prevented the natural development of Black's .:tJ/c6, while Black has acquired hopes of obtaining a remote passed ft . But just now Black's position cries out for development. Not 9 .. . Nd7 because of 10. d5! The game hinges on Black's next move. By breaking a fine old maxim, Black obtains the initiative.

9 • • • • 10. 0-0

Qd5! Nd7

Winning the offered ft would be play-

- 243 -


ing into the hands of such a master of attack. 1 1. Bf4 c4 12. Re1 Be7 13. Ne5 0-0!

Now I breathed. 14. Re3 Nf6 15. Rb1

At last White is induced to vacate the a-file to guard his ft . Now is the time to produce the trump.

15. • • • a5! If White takes in passing, he only gives

the b-file to Black later on. 16. Qe2 Rfc8 17. Rg3 a4 18. Qf3

-�-� �� lWi .t m � .t � .t � � � � %� %� f . .... ,� � �� ":-{ � �

,�,,�� lWi %'� lWi .M.�; � � � � �'{,9?',0 "� ft'��"�r�ft'� �§� "� · ·'�' � � � ?�

Realizing he has overplayed his hand somewhere and should lose, White stakes all on a long chance, i.e., that Black will refrain from immediately swapping '/trs. If 78 .. . a3 (say), then comes the Watsonian coup, Rxg7f!

18. • • • Qxf3 19. gxf3? Nh5

Looks as if White was blind to this, but the remote passed ft confers a winning advantage anyway.

20. Rg4 f5 21. Bg5 fxg4 22. Bxe7 a3 23. Ra1 a.2 24. Nd7 gxfJ! (best way to dispose of the fork: be forked and get it over) 25. Nb6 Re8 26. Bb4 Nf4! 27. Nxc4 (regaining the Exchange leaves White helpless) Nd5 28. Bc5 Nxc3 29. Nd6 Red8 30. Kf1 (if Nxb7, ... Rxd4!) b6 31. Ke1 bxc5 32. dxc5 Rab8 33. White resigns.

( 1 8) N.S.W. v. Victoria (Telex Match 1945)

C. Purdy-F. Crowl Ruy Lopez

This game was full of excitement after the slow opening. Critics thought Purdy was in peril at the adjournment; all missed his spectacular sealed move, as did Crow!. It was not at all deep, but rather surprising.

1. e4 e5 2. Nf3 Nc6 3. Bb5 a6 4. Ba4 Nf6 5. 0-0 Be7 6. Re1 b5 7. Bb3 d6 8. c3 Na5 9. Bc2 c5

10. d4 Qc7 1 1. a4!

An interpolation by Keres. It aims at disorganizing Black in some way; it must be played just at this point to have any effect.

11 . • • • b4 12. Nbd2 Be6

Better ... bxc3 followed by pinning, see-ing that White has omitted the routine h3.

13. d5 Bd7 14. cxb4 cxb4 15. b3 Rc8 16. Ra2 0-0 17. Bd3 Ra8

The §. 's oscillation has not been in vain. Had Black not played it to c8 on Move 15, White would have developed freely by 76. Nfl and Ne3.

18. Qe2 19. Rc2

Qb7 Rfc8

Black's 4:)/aS, though quite immobile, ties the white 4J down. Hence White's next.

20. Bc4 Rc5 21. Bb2 Qc7 22. Reel Rc8

White's 20th was also to bar §. ex-

- 244 -

His Games

changes. Black's last three moves seem to overlook what is coming. I expected Crow! to move his �-4:) and go for .. .f5.

23. Nel! Nxc4 24. Nxc4 Qb8 25. Nd3 R5c7

Now the fun starts. 26. f4 27. Khl 28. Qel 29. e5

Qa7t Bg4! exf4

Not as powerful as it looks, as Crowl unearths a strong counter-combination. Before Black's Y!¥-A had a good square, White should have seized the chance to play 29. h3!, as a � sanctuary would have been a godsend to him later.

29. Bf5! 30. exf6 Bxd3 3 1. fxe7 Rxe7 32. Qxb4 Bxc2

And now 33. Rxc2 would lose after . . . RceB, but White has a saver.

33. Qc3 f6 34. Qxc2 Rce8

Again White has only one move. Not 34. Qj1, . . . Qj2.

35. Qd2! Re2 36. Bd4! Qb7

Bearing on two fts. Black should have secured equality with . . . Rxd2, but his attack looked promising.

The game was now adjourned. What move can White seal to stem the tide?

37. Qxe2!! Rxe2

38. Nxd6 Qb8 39. ReSt Qxc8 40. Nxc8 Relt

Disappointment for Black; 40... Rd2 does not win the d- ft . Black can, however, win the b- ft and obtain good drawing chances. But he goes for counterplay, and more excitement develops.

41. Bgl Kf8 42. h3 Rdl 43. Nb6 Kf7 44. Kh2 g5 45. Bc5 h5 46. d6 g4 47. hxg4 hxg4

If now 48. d7??, Black mates in a few moves!

48. g3 f3 49. d7 f5 50. b4 Rd2t 51. Kgl f4

Again White is threatened with mate, and 52. gxf4?is no defense. But again he has a dramatic saver.

52. Nc4! Rdlt 53. Kf2 fxg3t 54. Kxg3 Ke6

Black again threatens to patch up his mating net. White can rend it by K.xg4, giving up his passed ft , but would need about 100 moves to win. Therefore White lets it close around him slightly again.

55. Nb6! Kf5 56. a5! Rd2

And this time the way out is obvious. 57. Bf2 Rdl 58. b5 Rhl 59. Bd4 Rh3t

White's last move ensures queening, and Black's mating net is tom. The finish was 60. Kf2 Ke4 61. d8=Q g3t 62. Kel Rhl t 63. Kd2 Rh2t 64. Kc3 f'1 65. Qd5t Kf4 66. Qe5t KfJ 67. Qd5t Ke2 68. Qe4t Kf1 69. Qf3 Rh3 70. Bxf'l g2; White mates in two.

- 245 -


( 1 9) Sydney Invitation Tournament (1946)

C. Purdy-A. Fryda English Opening

1. c4 e6 2. g3 Nf6 3. Bg2 d5 4. Nf3 Be7 5. 0-0 0-0 6. b3 d4

Better to wait till White committed himself to Bb2. Therefore 6... c5. These "hyper-modern" openings are easy to cope with in theory, but in practice it is still easier for Black to make a slight error, and then the "hyper-modern" opening becomes better than a good opening. The term hypermodern was given to fianchetto openings when they suddenly became all the rage after the first World War.

7. d3 c5 8. e4 dxe3

Otherwise White would never fianchetto his '{:¥-A at all, but use it on its original diagonal in conjunction with a later /4 and a �-side attack.

9. fxe3 10. Bb2 ll. Nc3 12. Qe2 13. Rad1 14. d4 15. exd4 16. Kh1

Nc6 Qc7 a6 Bd7 Rfd8 cxd4 Be8 b5

A bold .ft sacrifice for liberty, if not equality or fraternity.

17. cxb5 18. Nxb5 19. a4 20. Ne5 21. Rcl

axb5 Qb6 Rac8 Nb4 Nbd5

Black's ft sacrifice has justified itself insofar as White's As have been deprived of most of their strength by the powerfully situated and well-supported blockading lb. The '{:¥-side fts (which can at any time be changed into doubled fts) are quite immobile. I found the position intensely difficult, and finally decided on a surprising scheme for returning the ft in order to obtain an endgame with a mobile passed ft .

22. Rc2! Rxc2 Else White doubles Ei s.

23. Qxc2 Ne3 Here Mr. Fryda rose from his chair as

though expecting his game to be easier from this point; the position is very deceptive.

24. Nc4 Nxc2 Not 24 ... Q3b5 or . . . Rc8 25. Qj3. And

24 .. . Bxb5 merely transposes. 25. Nxb5 Bxb5 26. axb5 Nxd4

If 26 .. . Rb8, 2Z Rcl Rxb6 28. Rxc2 h6! 29. Rc8f Kh7 30. Bc6 followed by rapid development of the �. Black can be allowed to win the front passed ft by .. . Nd5, .. .Bb4, and . . . Nc3, but afterwards the rear one advances under royal patronage, and White should win.

27. Bxd4 28. Nc4

Rxd4 Nd5

To shut out White's A. I expected 28 ... Rd3, when White could probably win by sacrificing the rear ft ; but 29. Rbl is surer, as White can still get his front ft to the

- 246 -

His Games

seventh and without letting Black's � get behind it, and the rear ft could become an additional weapon.

29. b6 30. b7 31. Ra1 32. Ra8t 33. Bxd5 34. Rc8

(20)

Bd8 Bc7 g6 Kg7 exd5 Resigns

Radio Match v. France {1946) C. Purdy-S. Tartakover

Nimzo-lndian Defense

1. d4 Had I expected to play the famous

Tartakover, I should have prepared against Alekhine's Defense, which he has been playing lately, and adopted my usual e4. But I thought he was situated harmlessly in England.

create difficulties for himself. Above all, I wanted to avoid clock trouble.

5. Bd3 Bb7 6. Nf3 Ne4! 7. Bd2

At once eliminating the strong f), as Z .. j5 would lose a ft .

7 . . . . 8 . Bxc3

Bxc3! Nxc3

Black-of course-has chosen the only way that promised him chances, as Rc7 threatened to give White a very comfortable game. The point is that from now on White can secure his �-side from attack only by exposing the weakness of his doubled fts. This will be explained later.

9. bxc3 f5 Must, else e4 gives White his ideal

formation in this opening. 10. 0-0 0-0 11. Qe2 Qf6!

In view of the coming e4, Black wants 1. N£6 to avoid weakening his e- ft by .. . d6, but not 2. c4 e6 to play ... Nc6till he can exchange .Q.s. White 3. Nc3 Bb4 has to dance to this tune, or Black might tie

Steiner had said that Tartakover was him up with .. . Qg6. Or if 72. f) (moves), . . . e5! certain to spring a surprise in the opening, 12. e4 fxe4 and when I now pointed out that he had 13. Bxe4 Bxe4 played what is probably the theoretically 14. Qxe4 Nc6 most correct defense to the Yff's ft , Steiner The scene has changed. Black has a answered, "That is his surprise." vital "pivot square" at/ f5; you must visual-

4. e3 b6 ize a � ending, and a black � pirouetting This was to me the most worrying re- on f5, then dancing off to a5, battening on

ply. I had designed to play not at once White's weak fts. Rubinstein's Nge2 followed by a3, but first But by playing e4White has nipped in Bd3 and then that, so that if his A retired the bud a �-side attack and created chances when hit by a3my �-f) would not obstruct for central counterplay. A reliable critic-or my A and I should have an easy develop- was he a pundit?-said I had a "bad game," ment. Now it was goodbye to all that. Either but I had some faith in my freer position in I had to play Rubinstein's way, with a corn- the center. plicated game, or else develop in an easy 15. Radl! Qf4 way, but a way which would give Black no 16. Rfe1 Rae8 difficulties at all. I chose the latter because This came through just before 2 AM, no one can make an opening difficult for and I had to seal with all the officials waiting Tartakover-though he sometimes likes to patiently in the cold. However, there was

- 247 --


too much at stake to hurry, and I had plenty of time on the clock for once. Tartakover wanted the ¥t!s off, and yet by accommodating him I could make use of my temporarily better .§.s and attack him. Was it sound? At any rate, I thought it gave better chances than trying to hold the position intact, because the Y!1-side was permanently weak.

17. Qxf4 Rxf4 18. d5

Completely wrecked my Y!1-side, "yet there is method in't."

18. • . . Na5 19. dxe6 dxe6

Not the obvious .. . Rxe6because of 20. Rxe6 dxe6 21. Rd7!, for if then 21 ... Rxc4, 22. Ne5! threatens mate and forces the .§. back to f4, and then 23. Rxc7 with advantage. And if 21 .. . Rf7, 22. RdBf RJB 23. Rd7 forces a draw.

20. Ng5! e5 For if 20 .. . Rxc4, 21. Rxe6 and Black

cannot take because of mate. So 21 ... RcB (say) 22. Rd7!! Rxc3 23. h4 (to avoid mate). Now if Black stops White's threatened Re7 with 23 ... Nc6, comes 24. Rxc7!, offering the .§. . And if 23 .. . h6, 24. Ree7! at least draws.

I fear that some students, when they see notes like this, are discouraged by thinking the player worked them all out before taking his plunge ( 1Z Q!f4, in this case). Over the board, that is rarely done. The player relies mainly on his judgment of the attacking possibilities of a position, notes a few important tactical points (such as the mating threats in this example), works out a main line or two, and leaves a little to chance. To rely on sheer calculation, as opposed to judgment, is actually very risky. Even Alekhine admitted that he rarely worked out more than two or three varia-

demonstration. For if his .§. crosses to the Yl1-side, 22. Rxe5!, offering the .§. for the old mate. And if 21 ... bxc5 ?, 22. Rd5 with advantage.

22. Ne4 Nc6 23. f3 Rff8!

The .§. has outlived his usefulness at f4 (if 23 .. . bxc5, not 24. Nxc5 but 24. Rd7! Rf7 25. Rd5 with advantage) . But why not 23 . . . Rf7, preventing White from taking the seventh rank? Because Black wants to induce the exchange of one pair of .§.s; otherwise, White can threaten to control the only open file. Crafty!

24. Rd7 Rf7 Now White's best course was 25. Rd5!

to double .§.s. Black could force an exchange by .. . RdB, but less favorably.

25. Red1 Rxd7 26. Rxd7 Re7 27. Rd1

The 4) ending is bad for White with two fts isolated, but with .§.s on it should be a draw.

27. 28. Kf2 29. Ke3

Kf7 Ke6 Rd7

The student will ask two questions. Why has White not undoubled the fts? Because that would open a file for Black's .§. against the isolated a- ft . And why did Black not try . . . b5, keeping the fts doubled? Because that would give counterplay for White's .§. . Thus, 29 ... b5!? 30. Rb1 a6 31. a4! bxa4 32. Ra1 Rd7 33. c4! a5 (to answer Rxa4 with .. . Rd1) 34. Nc3!followed by Nb5 or Nd5, tying Black up lugubriously.

I now exchanged the .§.s because the 4) ending is better now, and I did not like to leave the open file to Black's .§. .

30. Rxd7 Kxd7 31. cxb6 cxb6

tions. Black wants to have a passed ft as 21. c5! h6 remote as possible in case he ever wins one

Black admits the success of White's of White's Yf1-side fts.

- 248 -

His Games

White's next "think" was his longest in the game. It is bad to play for a double attack on Black's e- .ft , e.g., 32. Nj2 ? Ke6 33. Ke4 Na5 34. Nd3 Nc4 followed by .. . Nd6f, driving the W back.

32. h4! Drawn White offered the draw. The point of

etiquette that one should not offer a grandmaster a draw but wait for him to do so would not be supported by the genial and logical Tartakover, we feel sure, for it is obviously unfair to deprive the weaker player of a right possessed by the stronger.

The Final Position

Black to play his 32nd

White's move here, like his sealed move and its sequel, follows the sound principle of trying to create counter-weaknesses rather than defend your own. The threat is h5, fixing Black's g- .ft .

(2 1 ) Australian Championship {1946-47)

F. Crowi-C. Purdy Nimzo-/ndian Defense

1. d4 Nf6 2. c4 e6 3. Nc3 Bb4

White now chooses the Samisch Attack, which provides immediate .ft support for the d- .ft against the coming .. . c5. The followup is pure Crow!, and sets Black un-

usual problems. 4. a3 Bxc3t 5. bxc3 c5 6. Qa4 0-0 7. Bg5 h6 8. Bh4 d6 9. N£3 Nbd7

10. e3 g5 Could well have waited ( 10 ... e5!).

11 . Bg3 Ne4 12. Rcl

Hallucination: 12. Bd3 offers Black nothing better than 12 ... Nxg3 13. hxg3 Kg7. However, Black's chances remain good, as White gets no time to attack in the h-file, e.g., if 14. 0-0-0, .. j5 15. Rh2 Nf6!for ... Ng4. Or 14. e4 j5 15. exj5 exj5 16. 0-0-0 Nf6, when 17. dxc5 fails because of 17. .. Ng4 18. Qs2 Qg5. Or 14. g4 Nf6!

12. 13. Bd3 14. 0-0 15. Rfd1 16. h4 17. Nd2 18. fxg3 19. Rf1 20. Bxe4

f5 Ndf6 Qe7 h5 g4 Nxg3 d5 Ne4 dxe4

White has emerged with what looks at first a tenable position, but his 4) is bad and his Y!f is tied to the protection of the a- .ft . Black can break through by .. . e5, and if d5, ultimately . . f4.

21. Qb3 22. Qa2

b6 Qd6

- 249 -


23. Rf4? e5 24. dxe5 Qxe5

White now has too many weaknesses; his only hope is to prepare his &Ll for sacrifice, which he does.

25. Qc2 Be6 26. Rcfl Rad8 27. R1f2 Rf7 28. Kh2 Rd3 29. Qa4 Rfd7

The finish is exciting. 30. Nxe4 fxe4 31. Qc6 Rxe3 32. Rd2 Red3

Black declines the � for simplicity. If now 33. Re2, .. . Q3f4!!

33. Rxd3 exd3 34. Re4 Qd6 35. Qa8t Kg7 36. Re1 d2 37. White resigns.

(22) Australian Championship (1946-47)

B. Mills-C. Purdy Nimzo-Jndian Defense

1. d4 Nf6 2. c4 e6 3. Nc3 Bb4 4. e3 0-0 5. Bd3 c5

In the A.C.R. of 1935, the sequence of moves suggested was 5 .. . d5 6. Ne2 dxc4 7. Bxc4 c5 8. a3 cxd4. I did not remember this, but in any case I thought Mills would an-swer 5 . . . d5 with 6. Nj3! Once Black has played .. . d5White no longer has to fear the doubling of his c- fts.

6. Nge2 d5 7. a3 cxd4!

This and the following it capture, nonchalantly leaving the A en prise, give this game its special interest for opening students. To capture the A at either move would give White a bad it position with only barely compensating advantages.

8. exd4 dxc4!

And if now 9. Bxh7f, . . . Kxh7 10. axb4 Nc6 with equal chances.

9. Bxc4 Be7 Now that White cannot play c5.

10. 0-0 Nbd7 Against the isolated d- it one tries, if

possible, to establish a piece on the "blockade" square d5. This is just routine Nimzovich. Hence Black's rapidity.

1 1. Bg5 h6 12. Bh4 Nb6 13. Ba2 Bd7 14. Qd3 Bc6

Here again, Black forced himself not to dawdle over calculations based on White's mating threat at h 7, but relied on faith in the defensive setup with Alf6 (explained below).

15. Rad1 Nbd5 16. Bb1 Re8

Creating a flight square at f8, so that even if his f-&Ll is exchanged off and he has to recapture on f6 with the A, White cannot mate him-Black can answer Q!t7fand Q!tBt with . . . Kj8 and . .. Ke7. This defense nearly always works. White's best now seems 17. Rfe1, when Black could also develop with . . . Rc8 with the better position. But White tries to force things, and fares worse.

17. Nxd5 Qxd5 18. Nf4 Qb5

White had missed the force of this, and his whole setup is wrecked. If 19. Qs2 ?, ...Be4. And if 19. Qg3, the it -grab is sound.

19. Bxf6 Qxd3

- 250 -

His Games

20. Nxd3 Bxf6 21 . Ne5 Ba4!

Now, in order to preserve his advantage, Back proceeded to calculate almost every move exhaustively. The obvious 21 ... Bd5 is feeble (22. Ng4 [A moves] 23. Ne3).

22. Rd2! Some said White should have seized

the open file with 22. Rcl, but then 22 ... Rad8! wins (if . . . Red8, Be4 is annoying).

22. • . . Red8 23. Rel

Better f4 at once, reserving an option. 23. • . . Rac8 24. f4 Bxe5!

A big decision: to cast aside the permanent advantage of the two As for a ft win extremely difficult to sheet home. This move occupied nearly 30 minutes.

25. fxe5 Rc4 26. b3?

Mills thought that after 26. Be4! Rcxd4 2Z Rxd4 Rxd4 28. Bxb7 the ending should be a win for Black (28 ... Rd2 and will soon be a ft up again) . A big factor would be the weakness on e5. But the win would be very arduous. The text move, giving up a ft in a different way, was a brain wave based on an optimistic hallucination. But White subsequently finds the most tenacious defense at every move.

26. 27. Rb2 28. Be4 29. Rd2 30. Rd3! 3 1. Bxd3 32. Re3 33. Be2 34. Kf1 35. Rc3 36. ReSt 37. Rc7

Bxb3 Rc3 b6 Bd5 Rxd3 Rc8 g6 Rc2 Rd2 Rxd4 Kg7 a5!

The sealed move, and much the strongest, though . . . Ra4 was tempting. The point

is soon clear. It pays to treat winning positions with extreme care if time permits.

38. Bb5 Re4! 39. Be8 Kf8!

And Black must win a third ft . 40. Bb5 Rxe5 41. a4 Rf5t 42. Kgl e5 43. ReSt Kg7 44. Rd8 e4 45. g4 Re5 46. Rd6 e3 47. Kf1 Bf3 48. Rxb6 Rc5 49. White resigns.

White can save his position only by allowing mate.

(23) Australia v. England (Radio Match 1947)

C. Purdy-H. Golombek Caro-Kann Defense

This game will interest (a) students of the opening, and (b) players who enjoy a hard fight even if unspectacular.

1. e4 c6 2. d4 d5 3. Nc3 dxe4 4. Nxe4 Bf5!

Capablanca, who thought highly of the Caro-Kann, always depended on this move.

5. Ng3 Bg6 6. Nt3

Alekhine wrote in the Book of the New York Tourney of 1924: "The formerly so popular 'attacking' move, 6. h4, which is suitable only for a 4J attack and weakens the �'s position without compensation, has been discarded little by little and rightly so."

In later years, Lajos Steiner gave new life to 6. h4, afterwards playing Bd2 and 0-0-0 and following with Kb 7, c4, and Bd3. But I knew Golombek would be well primed in that.

6. . . . Nd7 Stops Ne5.

7. Be2 A new move of my own, which I had

- 25 1 -


already tried against Brian Reilly in the world correspondence championship. My idea sprang from Alekhine's favorable comments on Yates' 7. Bc4 in place of the usual 7. Bd3. As Bc4 hinders c4, which White wants to play later, I was led to think of Be2.

7. . . . e6 8. 0-0 Bd6!

The Reilly game shows better the possibilities of my idea: B ... Qc7 9. c4! Ngf6 10. Bd2 Bd6 11. b4, Reilly to move. I don't know if Golombek' s move is really stronger than Reilly's, but it keeps open the possibility of .. . h5-h4. This induced me to change my original plan, with doubtful wisdom. Actually, I ought now to have played, as against Reilly, 9. c4!, and if 9 . . . h5!?, 10. Bd3 h4 11. Ne4 Bxe4 12. Bxe4 h3 13. g3, as the weakening of the 'it'-side matters little since Black is now committed to castling on the �-side, which is also vulnerable.

9. Re1 Ngf6 10. c4 0-0 1 1. Nh4 Qc7 12. Nxg6 hxg6 13. Be3

No use trying to keep the two ,ils, e.g., 13. b3 e5, etc.

13. Bf4 14. Qd2 Bxe3 15. Qxe3 e5 16. Rad1 Rfe8 17. d5

J�� ,��.t�� .tM4l�t� ��"��-� ��·· .. ·� �� ·� , .. � '

��'�·�·�4.�'�·� .il. % -� �� ·� a % ·� � ·'� ,§?� '� ' � � ' ' ' "

In my anxiety to play quickly and avoid subsequent clock trouble, I played superfi-

cially in a position which would have repaid ten minutes' analysis. White acquires a passed ft , but isolated and on a light square, an obstruction to his -'l.

The best chance of maintaining a slight pull was probably 77. Rd2 for doubling §.s, e.g., if 77. .. RadB, 18. Redl and White is then threatening dxe5. If Black is lured into . . . e4, all the better, as f3 would eliminate this ft , leaving White with a �-side majority while Black's 'it'-side fts would be immobile.

17. cxd5 18. cxd5 Qd6 19. Bb5! a6

Sealed move. 20. Ne4 Nxe4 21. Bxd7 Qxd7 22. Qxe4 Rac8!

White has rid himself of his awkward -'l, but is now faced with the impossible task of holding both the open file and the passed ft .

23. Rc1 Qd6 24. Rc4

Tempting was 24. g4, but I thought Black's answer would be simply . . f6! aiming at . . . Kf7.

24. RedS 25. Rd1 b5! 26. Rxc8 Rxc8 27. h3 f5! 28. Qe3 Kf7

Entering the " (d6) square" of the passed ft , and thus greatly reducing that infant's potentialities. Now White cannot face a §. ending, nor even a � ending, with confidence, because Black's r3] is a force while his own is not. And a policy of masterly inactivity, while superficially it looks all right at the moment, is almost certain to lead to some such unfavorable exchange . White's next move cost him 25 minutes.

29. g4 Rc4 White's sortie was open to the objec

tion that it exposed his r3}, but it was logical

- 252 -

His Games

in that it aimed at turning Black's developed � into an exposed � also. And there was a tactical point: if 29 .. . Rc2?, 30. gxj5 gxf5 31. Qj3! Qs6f 32. Kj7 f4 (if . . . Rxb2 ?, d6 should win) 33. Q3g6f Kxg6 34. d6 and White has the winning chances.

30. b3 ReS 31. Qd3 e4 32. Qd4 Rc2 33. Rd2 Rc1t 34. Rd1 Rxd1 t

White should draw this '& ending, as enough lines have been opened up for his -&.

35. Qxd1 e3! An ingenious little combination to ex

pose White's � and retain winning chances. If 35 .. . fxg4, simplest was 36. Q.xg4 Q3d5 37. QsB, drawing by virtue of Black's exposed �-

36. Qf3 exf2t 37. Kxf2 Qe5

If 37. .. Q.h2t, 38. Kj7 Q3a2 39. Qs3! 38. a4! b4 39. gxf5! gxf5 40. Qd3 Qh2t

If 40 ... a5, White's '& and passed .ft. cooperate and force the draw: 41. @5, and if then Black checks and wins a .ft. , White, after driving the black � well away, plays d6, when loss of .ft.s no longer matters-a typical drawing motif in '& endings. With only a few minutes left for ten moves, Golombek at last gives up his valiant efforts to win.

41. Kf1 Qh1t 42. Kfl Drawn

Messages: "Thanks, most interesting game." -Purdy.

"Many thanks, hope to meet you over the board Sydney some day."-Golombek.

(24) N.S.W. Championship (1947)

C. Purdy-H. Klass English Opening

What may happen if you try to bypass a strong enemy 4J instead of trying to drive it away or swap it off? This.

1. c4 e5 2. Nc3 Nc6 3. Nf3 Bc5

Inferior to . .. Nf6. 4. e3 d6 5. d4 Bb6 6. h3

Varying from 6. Be2, played against Lindgren in Adelaide. White is anxious to maintain his .ft. center.

6. . . . a5 Not yet necessary.

7. Nd5 8. Be2 9. 0-0

10. b3

Ba7 Nge7 0-0 Bb8

At this, I looked up to see if my opponent were Crawl in disguise. Black visualizes an eventual . . . c6. However, White suddenly changes the central setup entirely.

11. e4 exd4 12. Nxd4 Nxd4 13. Qxd4 Nc6 14. Qc3 Ba7 15. Be3 Bxe3 16. Qxe3 Re8 17. Bd3 Bd7 18. Rfe1 b6 19. Rad1 Ne5 20. f4 Ng6 21. Qg3 N£8

- 253 - -


This was Black's last chance to hit the � with . . . c6, but the reply would be 22. j5! cxd5 23. fxg6 hxg6 24. Q3d6 with a winning advantage.

22. e5 23. fxe5 24. Rfl 25. N£6!

The best hope.

dxe5 Kh8 Be6 Qe7

26. Nxe8 Rxe8 27. Be4 Nd7 28. Khl! Qc5?

A mistake which avoids slow torture. 29. Rxd7 Resigns

If . .. Bxd7, 30. Rxf7 Q3e5 37. Q3e5 Rxe5 32. Rxd7 and Black cannot regain the piece because of mate. [Ed.: A slip by Purdy because 32. Rf8 is mate.]

(25) (ltf' \ Australian Correspondence

Championship {1948) C. Purdy-M. Goldstein

Evans Gambit

The following Evans Gambit from the 1948 Australian Correspondence Championship was considered by both players to be unusual enough to warrant very full annotations, making it into an article all on its own. The winner annotated it, but submitted the notes to the loser for correction and amendment.

We published in the A.C.R. of December 1937 a game, Keres-Eliskases, which

Keres won after moving the same � eight times in the first 15 moves. We believe that was a world's record for the winner of a serious game-anyone could move a� eight times and lose.

In the game now before us, the winner moves the same � six times in the first 15; the � then proceeds on further travels, and his tenth and last move is the winning one {28th) . It is an Evans gambit. Winning it assured Purdy (holder) of first place in the Australian Correspondence Championship, either outright or in a tie with Koshnitsky.

1. e4 2. N£3 3. Bc4 4. b4

e5 Nc6 Bc5 Bxb4

There is this to be said for accepting the gambit-it enables Black to select some particular line which he may have prepared, because White is more or less tied down to specific methods of countering each form of the defense. The Gambit Declined, on the other hand, allows White quite a variety of choice.

5. c3 Ba5 6. d4

Captain Evans, the inventor, used to castle first; but that comfortable line is quite spoiled by the Lasker Defense.

6. . . . b5! Leonhardt's Counter Gambit. It is one

of the mysteries of chess that it has not been played more often. M. C. 0. gives it as "theoretically quite strong," which might imply that practically it had some defect, but nobody has ever found it; and the lines given in M.C.O. end in Black's favor, though one of them is given with the verdict of equality. So, on the face of it, the Leonhardt was the refutation of the Evans, and naturally I had not ventured the gambit against Goldstein in correspondence play without looking into the Leonhardt very carefully. My conclusion

- 254 -

His Games

was that the book play could be improved on for White, though whether he could permanently maintain an initiative was too big a question.

7. Bd5! M. C. 0. gives this as the weaker alterna

tive, and Bxb5 as better; and Ulverstad in his Chess Arts actually gives Bxb5 as a win for White, but both authorities are wrong. Mter 7. Bxb5 Nxd4 8. Nxe5 Nxb5 9. Qd5 (here Ulvestad ends up, assuming White wins because he gets a � ), there follows 9 ... Qf6! 10. Qxa8 Ne7 (as in W.R. Morry-R.D. Wormald). The white � is shut in. Wormald won the game, and M. C. 0., which correctly gives the line, has no justification for claiming equality; White could be said to have "drawing chances" at best.

7. . . . exd4 Now M. C. 0. considers only the thor

oughgoing "gambit" move, 8. Qj3, which is superficially attractive but ends disastrously, as shown by M. C. 0. itself. But White has no need to be so rash.

8. Nxd4! Qf6 9. 0-0 Nge7

Now comes the crisis. Although the players had left M. C. 0., they were not in entirely uncharted waters. Both, as it turned out later, knew Leonhardt's own analysis, published in the B. C.M. of February 1906.

At this stage Leonhardt continues with 10. e5 Qg6 ( .. . �e5? loses) 11. f4 Bb6 12. j5 Nxd4 73. fxg6 Ne2f 14. Khl Ng3f 15. hxg3 hxg6fand Black mates in two.

A very pretty variation, but unsound. IfWhite plays 12. Kh1!instead of 12.j5?, he wins! For if 12 . . . Nxd4, 13. Bxa8 Nc2 14. g4!! and Black cannot save the game. In my glee at this discovery, I nearly went ahead with it, and afterwards Goldstein asked me why I had not, for he himself had also found the flaw. My answer was that unfortunately there is still another flaw in Leonhardt's analysis. Instead of 11 . . . Bb6? (which takes a useful

flight square from his �) , Black can play simply 77 ... Nxd4!with advantage. For if 12. Bxa8, ... Nc2 (as g4 is now useless) . In fairness to Leonhardt, one should add that his analysis was intended as illustrative only.

So I returned to the drab and unromantic move which I had decided was best a year before the game started. But there was nothing drab about the sequel.

10. Nxb5! I know of no previous instance of this.

Yet it seemed to me that one should forget one is playing an Evans Gambit and just play chess. And here is a perfectly good ft .

10. . . . 0-0 I hoped Black would try to regain his

ft plus by 10.. . a6 11. N5a3! Bxc3; this would eliminate my weak c- ft and undeveloped 4J and give me a strong initiative well worth the ft minus. Also ineffective would be 10 . . . Ba6 11. a4.

1 1. Be3 a6 12. Nd4 Bb6

My main concern was always to be sure, by painstaking analysis, that at each move there was something to discourage Black from playing .. .Nxd5, or to put it another way, some solace to White for the grief of parting with his "two Bishops."

It is on that idea that my variation ( 10. Nxb5) was based. For example, 12 ... Nxd5 13. exd5 Ne5 14. Nd2! d6 (taking loses) 15. N4b3 Bb6 76. Bxb6 cxb6 1Z f4 Ng6 18. Oj3 is in White's favor. A nice problem now faces White. See diagram.

- 255 -


13. Nc2! It is remarkable that with three of his

pieces still on their original squares, White's best move should be a retrograde step with this apparently well-posted i£l, which has already moved four times. It reminded me of Reti's words in his Modern Ideas In Chess.

From a careful study of Capablanca's games I learnt in tbe end that instead of applying Morphy's principle of developing all tbe pieces as quickly as possible he was guided in his play by some plan based as much as possible on positional considerations. According to that method, every move not demanded by tbe plan amounts to a loss of time.

The natural move was 73. Bb3, preserving the two .\ls. Over the board, one would play it almost automatically, and only a great deal of calculation persuaded me that my mysterious i£l move was better. The plan itself is simple: to establish the i£l/e3 commanding the vital square dS. Black should certainly have played now 13 .. . Nxd5 before the i£l could get there. Then 74. OJ:d5! RbB (looks best) 75. Bxb6 Rxb6 76. Ne3 d6 7Z Qj3 (threatening Nd5, the theme move) Be6 78. f4 and White threatens f5 and again Nd5. So in this line, too, White would have kept the initiative despite his retarded development. The main secret of White's small advantage consists in his center it , which Black cannot easily assail.

Maxims about quick development, and all other maxims in chess, are valuable labor-saving devices for avoiding bad moves rather than for finding good ones.

13. Rb8 14. Bxb6 Rxb6 15. Ne3 d6

Goldstein considers this doubtful. Possibly . . . Rb8 and ... Bb 7 was better. White is behind in development by counting pieces, but dominates the center.

16. Qc2 Be6 17. Nd2 Rfb8

Black still relies on development, leaving White's central domination intact. However, if 7Z .. Bxd5, 78. exd5 Ne5 19.[4 and the position of Black's ¥11 comes into question.

18. f4 Rb2 19. Qd3 Na5

Black has reached a stage on which White had built his hopes: Black has completed his development and is at a standstill because White still dominates the center. The text move stops trouble from White's i£ls, but gives White a new opportunity.

20. f5 Nxd5 Virtually forced now. Black hopes for

27. fxe6? OJ:c3 22. exj7f Kj8, when he is quite safe, e.g., 23. OJ:c3 Nxc3 24. Nj3 Nxe4! 25. Nd4 Nc5 26. Rac7 Nab7 (Goldstein).

21. exd5 Bc8 Mter 27 ... Bd7 White gets a winning

attack by Ne4, e.g., 22 .. . f!!5? 23. Ng4 f!!8? 24. Nef6for 22 .. . fl!7 2J.f6 (Goldstein).

22. Rael! A surprising ft sacrifice, as Black would

not only win a ft but threaten to get two t!s on the second. However, if 22 ... Rxa2, 23. Ng4 Qj8 24. Qg3! Kh8 25. f6 and the attack should win. Black prefers a crafty retreat.

22. • • • Qd8 23. Nc2!

The peripatetic i£l is again drawn to this apparently futile position, but only as a jumping-off ground for further hops. One could have bet that he would end up in a W-side attack. Strangely enough, that is his goal, but he selects an extraordinarily roundabout route. Reason: he mustn't let Black get two t!s on the second.

23. • • • Rxa2 Just what the i£l wants. Black's last

- 256 -

His Games

fighting chance was 23 .. . BdZ 24. Nb4 Rb2 25. Nc4!

Again, a surprising move, because positionally it seems bad to give Black a chance to exchange off his miserable � on the edge. But a combination overrides all such bloodless considerations.

25. Nxc4 26. Nc6 Q£8 27. Qxc4 Bd7

The � really wanted the !! to move, and then he could have extended his tour in a blaze of glory, e.g., 2Z .. R8b6 28. Ne7f Kh8 29. Ng6f!!!, thus completing 1 1 moves with a sacrifice which wins in all variations. [Eel.: How does White win in the variation after 29 . . . fxg6 30. fxg6 Qg8 ?] If 2Z .. Ra8, however, then 28. Ne7t and 29. 0Jcc7, winning less glamorously. Even as it is, the � makes ten moves, more than a third of all White's moves to date.

28. Nxb8 Qxb8 If ... Bb5, 29. Qs4!wins (Goldstein) . 29. Qxa6 Bb5 30. Qa3 Rd2

If ... Bxfl ?, 31. Q,xb2! 31. c4! Bd7

If ... Bxc4, 32. Qs3, finis. 32. Re7 Qd8

Forced, as White gave conditionals to settle the slightly longer resistance by 32 ... h6.

33. Rxd7 Resigns It was really a pleasure to lose this

game, in which Purdy broke all the classical canons of development to maintain his grip on the center. I felt my loss due in no small measure to the weakness of Black's c6 and c4 squares (see White's 25th and 26th moves), which in their turn were created by Leonhardt's own move, 6 . . . b5.

Hence Purdy's original treatment of the opening makes the game of exceptional theoretical interest (Goldstein) .

(26) Australia v. New Zealand

Cable Match (1948) C. Purdy-R. Wade

French Defense

1. e4 e6 2. d4 d5 3. Nd2 Nf6

More fashionable than . . . c5. 4. e5 Nfd7 5. Bd3 c5 6. c3

This, of course, is the point of 3. Nd2. Now Black sometimes plays 6 .. . b6 to exchange his "bad" .Q..

6. Nc6 7. Ne2 Qb6 8. Nf3 f6

If 8 ••• cxd4, 9. cxd4 Bb5t 10. Kfl! (Alekhine-Capablanca, A.V.R.O. 1938) leaves Black rather stranded.

9. exf6 10. 0-0 1 1. Rb1

Nxf6 Bd6

To free the .Q. (b3 is weakening). 11 . . . . 0-0 12. Bf4 Qc7

An old game, Canal-H.Johner, Zurich 1917, continued 12 ... Bxf4 13. Nxf4 Qc7 (if . .. Ne4, 14. Ne2 cxd4 15. Nexd4 Nxd4 76. cxd4 with advantage [Tartakover]) 14. g3 e5 15. dxe5 Nxe5 16. Nxe5 Qxe5 17. Re1 Qd6 18. Bc4! with advantage to White.

13. Bxd6 Qxd6 14. Re1?

- 257 -


White impatiently sent this rather superficial move as a conditional; had he waited until he had the position in front of him, he might have seen that the only way to retain any advantage was by 14. dxc5! fl!c5 15. Ned4. Black could not then advance his e- .ft. (because of Nxc6), and after 15 ... Bd7 16. Re! RaeB 17. Nxc6 Bxc6 18. Ne5 White's initiative is clear ( 18 .. . Nd7? 19. Qs2).

14. e5! 15. dxe5 Nxe5 16. Nxe5 Qxe5 17. Ng3 Qg5

The salient feature now is Black's center .ft. . It is an asset, but also a liability insofar as it deprives Black's A of a central diagonal. In masters' jargon, White has a "good" A, Black a "bad" A -fair compensation for Black's central majority. Black's ambition, after developing, will be to exchange off the As.

18. t3 19. Qcl 20. Rbxc1 21. Kf1 22. Rxe8 23. Re1

Bd7 Qxcl Rae8 g6 Rxe8

With only one open file, it rarely pays either side to avoid exchanging §.s.

23. Kf7 24. Rxe8 Nxe8! 25. Ke2 Nd6 26. Ke3 Kf6 27. f4 a5 28. Ne2 Bb5! 29. Bxb5 Nxb5

Black has achieved the exchange of As, and White could now easily drift into a loss. However, White now finds a maneuver which actually reaps some benefit from the disappearance of his A.

30. Ncl! a4 31. a3 Nd6 32. Nd3 Nc4t

White's 4) finds the square formerly occupied by the A a perfect defensive post. A balance is thus achieved, which neither side can well afford to upset.

33. Kt3 b5 34. g4 Nd2t 35. Ke2 Ne4 36. Ke3 Ke6 37. h3 Kf6 38. Kt3

Drawn by agreement.

(27) Australian Open (1948) D. Armstrong-C. Purdy

Nimzo-/ndian Defense

1. d4 Nf6 2. c4 e6 3. Nc3 Bb4 4. a3 Bxc3t 5. bxc3 c5 6. e3 0-0 7. Bd3 Nc6 8. Ne2 d6 9. 0-0 Qc7

10. e4 e5! If I did not do this, I was in for deadly

cramp. I therefore decided to invite the following little combination in which White expends his energy on winning material at the cost of position.

1 1. d5 Ne7 12. f4 exf4

To allow f5 would be fatal. If now White recaptures, Black obtains control of eS ( 13. Bxf4 Ng6and 14 .. . Nd7, or 13. Nxf4 Nd7).

13. e5 14. d6 15. dxe7

dxe5 Qc6 Re8

White has gained a piece for two .ft.s, but has a A and 4) without future. So far from exploiting his material advantage, he must seek salvation in a counter-sacrifice.

- 258 -

His Games

16. Bc2! Bd7 17. Nxf4! exf4 18. Bxf4 Rxe7 19. Bg5 Bg4

And if Q,d3, . .. Rae8. [Ed. : But then U'hite plays 21. Bxf6 and Black is in bad shape. Perhaps a slip of the pen.] Had White sacrificed without first playing Bc2, Black could safely have answered 19. Bg5 with ... Re6.

20. Rxf6! Bxd1 21. Rxc6 Re1t 22. Kf2 Re2t 23. Kf1 Rxc2 24. Rxc5 Be2t 25. Kg1 Rxc3 26. Rc7 b6 27. Re1 Rxc4

Better was . .. Bxc4. The two white E\s on the seventh would be ineffective here, and the A will now be pinned on e2 far worse than it would have been on c4. The ending is in any case very hard, with �s on opposite colors. But after 27. .. Bxc4! 28. Ree7 h6 29. Bh4 Rd8! it is certainly a win.

28. Re7 h6 29. Bxh6 Bg4 30. Bd2 Be6 31. Rcl b5 32. Rb7 Rxclt 33. Bxcl Rc8 34. Bf4 Rc4 35. g3 a6 36. Rb6 Bc8 37. h4 Rc2 38. Rd6 Kh7 39. Rd2 Rc3 40. Bd6

White's re grouping since Move 36 was the result of looking up Fine's Basic Chess Endings during the adjournment.

40. Kg6 41. Kf2 Kf5 42. Bb4 Rb3 43. Rd4 Be6 44. Rf4t Ke5

45. B£8 g6 46. a4 Bc4 4 7. axb5 axb5

Fine again! Fine says it is more drawish in these endings to have a single passed .ft than to have two .fts to one, for reasons he explains. However, Black's W is now too near for comfort.

¥!!.

48. Bg7t 49. Re4t 50. Rd4t 51. Rd2 52. Rc2 53. Be5 54. Rb2t 55. Rb1 56. Rcl 57. Ke2 58. Bf6 59. Bg7

Ke6 Kd5 Kc5 Kb4 Rd3 Kb3 Ka3 b4 Ba2 Rd5 Rd6! f6

60. Rc8 Bd5 61. R£8 b3 62. Rxf6 b2! 63. Rxd6 Bc4 t

The point. Queening would lose the

64. Ke3 and Black won.

b1=Q.

Returning to the diagram, note that White still had drawing chances with 60. BJB, e.g., 60 .. . Rd4 61. Ke3! Rg4 62. Kj3! f5 63. RcB Kb2. Black will get his passed .ft to the third rank, but to get it to the second he will have to give up his g- .ft . Black will win the A, but White will have possibilities of

- 259 -


arriving at § -versus-§ and �' which is a difficult book draw.

(28) Australian Correspondence

Championship (1948) F. Crowl-C. Purdy

King's Gambit

The Limited Bishop's Gambit (LBG) At New York 1924, Tartakover thrice

played the LBG, and Dr. Alekhine recommended against it a certain line, adding, "Unfortunately, however, one must apparently wait a long time before this interesting defense will be played . . . " He assumed that the LBG would not be resurrected very often, and from that day to this we have not seen a single game in this opening, until the following one, played in the 1948 Australian Correspondence Championship. The LBG game given by "Chielamangus" in Among These Mates was a brilliant piece of analysis by Crowl, not an actual game.

1. e4 e5 2. f4 exf4 3. Be2

Alekhine wrote:

This unusual move is based upon two ideas: first, the white Bishop, in case Black defends the gambit pawn by .. . g5, can be played to £3, which makes possible the development of Ne2, thereby avoiding the eventual attack of .. . g4. Secondly, the counter move of . . . d5, if not made at once, is less forceful than in the ordinary Bishop's Gambit inasmuch as in this case the Bishop is not directly attacked. One consequence, among others, is that Black cannot well play . . . Nf6, on account of e5, which-with White's Bishop on c4-would be met by

. . . d5. For all that, this backward maneuver of the Bishop is not to be recommended . . .

3 . . . . f5! This was Alekhine's recommendation,

never tried at New York. It is curious how two great masters can contradict each other on openings. Alekhine remarks, "The reply 4. e5 cannot very well be considered on account of 4 . . . d6, etc." Tartakover, on the contrary, in Die Hypermoderne Schachpartie, published a year after New York 1924, says, "The antiquated defense 3 . . . j5 4. e5! d6 5. d4, etc., gives White the advantage."

This complete contradiction called for some patient analysis. Following on Tartakover's moves I considered 5 ... dxe5 6. dxe5 Q3d1 t 7. Bxdl Be6! 8. Bxf4 Nd7 9. Nf3 0-0-0. Or in this, 8. Nf3 Nd7 9. Ng5 Ke7!; if now 10. Bxf4, . . . h6. In either case, White's .ft. on e5 becomes a fixed weakness, and one had to conclude that while 4. e5 might be the least evil for White, it should lose!

4. exf5 Qh4t 5. Kf1 d5

Alekhine stopped here, except to mention that 6. Bh5f Kd8!leaves Black standing decidedly better, "inasmuch as it would be easier for him than his adversary to dominate the f-pawn, in addition to which the open f-flle would afford him a welcome avenue for a direct attack on the white King." Crowl avoids this line, but finds none better.

6. Nc3 c6 Of course not . .. Nf6, as the it! needs

that square. 7. d4 Bd6 8. Bd3 Ne7 9. Qe2 0-0

10. Nf3 Qf6 For White, now it is only a choice of

evils. 1 1. g4 fxg3

- 260 -

His Games

12. Bg5 Qf7 13. Bxe7 Qxe7 14. Qxe7 Bxe7 15. Re1 Bd6 16. Kg2 gxh2 17. Nh4 Nd7 18. Ne2 Nf6 19. Ng3 Ng4 20. Rhf1 Bd7 21. Kh3 h1=Qt!

A surprising move which appears to gain nothing. Better might appear simply ... Nh6 at once, since 22. Kxh2 leaves White pinned.

22. Nxh1 23. Kg2

Nh6 Rf7

Now the point comes. White's W has been virtually forced to g2 instead of h2, blocking the retreat of his other 4), so that Black now threatens . . . Be7, forcing the win of the second ft and thus turning White's almost playable game into a hopeless loss. White's next move attempts to sacrifice the Exchange rather than the second ft , as the two central fts (after ... Bxe5 dxe5) would give White some vague counterchances.

24. Re5 Re7!! This second surprise-a most paradoxi

cal move, yet quite correct-lifts the game to publication standard. If 25. Rxe7, . . . Bxe7 and wins the f-ft , leaving White with no semblance of a counterchance at all.

25. f6 Bxe5 26. fxe7 Bxd4 27. Rf8t Rxf8

28. Bxh 7t Kf7 29. exf8=Qt Kxf8

White has had this little jest and could now resign, seeing that it is a correspondence game, but prolonged matters thus: 30. c3 Bf6 31. Ng6t Kf7 32. Nf2 Bf5 33. Nh8t Ke6 34. Ng6 (forced) Kd6 35. Kf3 Bb1 36. a3 Kc5 37. Ke2 Bf5 38. Nf8 Kc4 39. Bxf5 Nxf5 40. Kd2 Kb3 41. Kcl d4! 42. cxd4 Bxd4 43. Nd3 g5 44. Ne6 g4 45. Resigns.

Crawl fell victim to his love of bizarre openings.


L. Endzelins-C. Purdy

English Opening

When, at the opening luncheon, Brisbane's acting Lord Mayor drew Round 15 from a hat, it meant that Roundl5 became Round 1. Another dive into a hat meant that the first-named player in every pairing would have black instead of white. This first (lucky dip) round is always the most nerve-racking, at least for the writer, whose confidence was not improved on learning that he had to meet Endzelins, a shade the strongest of the "new Australian" masters on European results. This was the first tournament game ever played between one of these masters and a representative of New South Wales, and merits publication on that score.

I think Endzelins, also, was affected by first-round "nerves." At any rate, I hoped so, and chose what I meant to be a surprise defense, so that his clock would start piling up minutes as early in the game as possible.

1. c4 d6 2. d4 e5

Exchange of fts and Y!Js is bad for White now, despite Black's forfeiture of castling, as White's c4 becomes meaning-

- 26 1 -

The Search for Chess Perftction

less and, worse still, a source of weakness. The idea of Black's early ... e5 is to induce Nj3, after which the King's Indian Defense ( ... g6, etc.) is so much the better for the obstruction of White's f-ft .

3. Nc3! It is Black who gets the surprise! A

quick look convinced me that in this move of Endzelins' lay the refutation of 1... d6 (and surely 1 . . . d6 ought not to be as good as other more commonsense moves?) because it keeps White's position as free as possible, simply ignoring Black's "threat" of bringing White's Yf1 under fire by . . . exd4.

3. . . • exd4 Or 3 ... Nf6, when White could still

refrain from 4. Nj3 ( 4 .. . Nbd7!) and play 4. g3! Then 4 .. . exd4 would transpose into the game.

4. Qxd4 Nc6 5. Qd2!

Suddenly I remembered I had seen this before in the same or at least a similar position. At first sight the Yf1 is ill placed, but she will be beautifully posted after b3 and Bb2, protecting the fianchetto ,il-the usual disability of a YIJ-fianchetto is that the A is "loose." A few players thought Endzelins was "losing time" with his Yf1 moves; sometimes very strong players are astray on fundamentals. White has lost no time: he has made two moves in developing his Y!J, but Black has equally lost one move in development by . .. exd4, and-what is worse-abandoned his ft center. The position had me worried.

5. . . . Nf6 6. g3 Be6

Threatening to equalize by . . . d5. 7. Nd5! g6 8. Bg2?

This after very long thought-but it quite spoils his game. Compulsory was 8. b3 and Bb2 before it was too late. Of course he could have played b3 on Move 6, also. I

concluded that Endzelins was nervous about the complications that might result from 8. b3, but as far as I can see White always comes out with the better game. Evidently he did not like leaving his 'it'-side undeveloped so long, but he can live through it, e.g., 8. b3 Bg7 9. Bb2 0-0 10. Bg2 Re8 11. Nh3! Thus it seems that in this instance firstround "nerves" affected my opponent more than me.

8. . . . Bg7 Now it's too late for b3 and White's

setup loses its point. 9. Nf3 0-0

10. 0-0 Re8 1 1. Ng5 Bf5 12. Re1 h6 13. Nf3 Ne4

Black starts punching, and White is already worried by his clock.

14. Qd1 Nc5 15. Be3!

Offering the Exchange for counterplay. I did not want this-was hoping for a steady crush, but he would not play ball.

15. . . . Bxb2 16. Bxh6 Ne5

Clearly bad to accept the offer yet. 17. Nxe5 Rxe5 18. h4! Re6

Still wrong to take, I thought. I much preferred to keep him dock-worried rather than grab wood and give him obviously good moves. What was his best now? Would anyone care to dig into the complications

- 262 -

His Games

and see if White still had good counterplay? etc. 19. Nf4 ReS 20. Nd5 e6 21. Ne3 Be4! 22. Bxe4 Nxe4 23. Rbl Bc3

Not .. . Nc3? 24. Qs2. 24. Qb3

Not 24. Rf7 ?, as Black then wins the Exchange without parting with his �.

24. • . . Bxel At last Black has won the Exchange on

his own terms. Both players were racing now, up till Move 36.

25. Rxel 26. Rbl 27. Bf4 28. Rdl 29. exd5 30. Qd3?

Re6 b6 d5 ReS exd5

Of course 30. Rxd5 QsB, when White has a ft for the Exchange. In his wild clockscramble White was evidently under some hallucination.

30. Nc3 31. Rd2 Rc5 32. Ng4 Ne4 33. Rdl d4 34. f3 Nc3 35. Rd2 Qd5 36. e4 Qe4

The clock race is over. White's position has deteriorated through his having to play even faster than Black. The game again becomes interesting at Move 41, with White's ingenious bid for counterplay in a losing position.

37. Nf2 38. Nxd3 39. Ncl 40. Kg2 41. Kh3

Q?cd3 Ra5 Ra4 Re6 Nxe4

White has offered this ft just to get some play. Steiner suggested declining it and simply piling ;§s on with .. . Rcc4, . . . Ra3,

42. Re2! 43. ReSt 44. Nb3

Nc5 Kg7 Ne6

Trying to be clever. The swap was simpler.

45. Bb8 d3 46. g4 f6 47. Re7t Kf8 48. Rd7 Rxa2 49. Rxd3 Ke7 50. h5 gxh5 51. gxh5 a5 52. f4 a4 53. Nd2 Ree2 54. Nf3 Ral 55. Re3 Rhlt 56. Kg3 ReS!

And if 5Z Ba7, . . . Rg8t 58. Kf2 Kf7 threatening . . . Nxf4.

57. Nd4 Rg8t 58. Kf2 Rh2t 59. Kf1 Rhlt

Black hurriedly returns his !! to a light square, for at h2 it is under a masked attack from the �.

60. Kf2 61. Rxe6 62. Re6 63. Re7t 64. Ne6

Kf7 Rxb8 Rxh5 Kg6 ReS

To return the Exchange. 65. Kf3 Rh7

With two ;§s against !! and 4J, a !! swap is the heart's desire.

66. f5t Kh6 67. Resigns

The onlookers broke into applause, presumably atleast partly for White's plucky and ingenious fight in a losing position.

- 263 -



C. Purdy-R. Zile King's Indian Defense

1. d4 Nf6 2. c4 g6 3. Nc3

Inviting the complicated Griinfeld (3 . . . d5). Easier is 3. g3.

3. Bg7 4. e4 d6 5. g3 0-0 6. Bg2 e5!

Correct. No need for ... Nbd7 first. 7. Nge2 Nc6

Perhaps better still is Z . . exd4 B. Nxd4 Nc6; and if 9. Nc2, ... Be6. Indeed, although it is seldom played, probably the best answer to 6 .. . e5 is an immediate Z d5!

8. d5 Nd4

Dr. Learner, of Melbourne, former Birmingham Champion, won two fine games in Australia with this Russian countergambit. Here's one-it could happen to you, if you accepted the .ft : 9. Nxd4 exd4 10. Ne2 (if Qfd4 ?, Nxe4!) Re8 11. f3 c5 12. dxc6 bxc6 13. Nxd4 Qb6 14. Nb3 Ba6 15. Qc2 d5 76. c5 Qd8 77. Bg5 dxe4 18.Jxe4 Bd3 19. Qd2 Nxe4 20. Bxd8 Nxd2t 21. Kxd2 Raxd8 22. Rag1 Bc4t White resigns (C.G. Watson-A. Learner, Interclub, Melbourne 1950).

9. h3 Obviously more precise is 9. 0-0, as it

reserves more options. However, after 9.

0-0 Nxe2f 10. Qfe2 a5 White would have played h3 as a preparation for Be3 in any case, transposing into the game.

Fine says somewhere that 8 ••• Nd4 is "refuted" by 9. 0-0 c5 10. dxc6 bxc6 11. Nxd4 exd4 12. Qxd4 as in Ragosin-Chistyakov, Moscow 1939. The move refuted is not 8 . . . Nd4, but the reckless follow-up 9 . . . c5!?? Masters with aggressive styles, like Chistyakov, inevitably overstep the bounds of discretion occasionally. Instead, Black should continue like Zile here, and like Dr. Learner in Goldstein-Learner, Australian Championship, Melbourne 1948-49: 9. 0-0 Nxe2f! 10. Qxe2 a5 11. bJ Nd7 (still better was 11 . . . b6, keeping as long as possible the option of .. . Ng4if Be3) 12. Be3 b6 13. a3 Nc5 14. Rjb1 f5 15. f3 J4 16. Bfl Bd7; difficult game for both sides, which Black, in this case, won.

9. . . . Nxe2 Quite simply! Black has a slightly freer

game than in a normal King's Indian. 10. Qxe2 a5 11. 0-0 Nd7 12. Be3 b6 13. Qd2 Nc5 14. Bh6 f5 15. Bxg7 Kxg7 16. exf5 gxf5

This is the routine recapture in the normal King's Indian, but here 16 .. . Bxf5 was better because it carries a direct threat ( . . . Bd3), and would thus delay White's [4 and give, in our opinion, equal chances.

17. f4 e4 Giving Black a superficially attractive

position; but the passed .ft is easily blockaded, and White's .'£) obtains a splendid post. But if Black allows fxe5, he gets "hanging .ft s" and is far from happy.

18. Nb5! Ba6 19. Nd4 Qf6

If . . . Bxc4?? Black loses a piece: easy exercise for students.

20. b3 Rae8

- 264 -

His Games

21. Qe3 22. a3 23. Rfdl

Bc8 Nd3 h5

Bastion against an ultimate g4. 24. Bfl Nc5

Must you go, so early! 25. b4 Nb7 26. Be2 Rh8 27. Kh2 Bd7 28. Racl Ref8

An instructive position. It looks pretty hard for White to do anything. But look more closely. White is positioned for a decisive breakthrough on the '�!¥-wing ifBlack moves his 'tl. That means Black's ltl is tied, so that on the �-side he is a piece down. Therefore, by patient regrouping (calling perhaps for l==!,s/g2 and fl, A/dl, and �/ gl), White should at last be able to break on the �-side with g4, and, having an extra piece there, probably win.

29. Rd2 h4? This oversight makes it easy. Zile, who

was usually too meek in this tourney, shows fight at the wrong moment.

30. g4 fxg4 31. Bxg4 Bxg4 32. hxg4 Nd8

Of course not . . . f!!f4?? That's what Zile missed on Move 29.

33. Nf5t Kf7 34. c5

When the eat's away! And note that this move is the one that White keeps before his eyes from the moment he plays d5.

Though White may never succeed in playing it, he must try at least to threaten it.

34. Rh7 35. cxb6 cxb6 36. Qxb6 Resigns

The game was to be adjourned, and Zile, displaying both realism and chivalry, adjudged it too hopeless to warrant dragging his opponent back to finish it.

After 36 .. . axb4 37. axb4 Kg8 the simplest is 3 8. Q§3, winning a second it while still retaining an attack (if 38 ... Re8, 39. Rc4).

(3 1 ) Australian Championship {1951)

J. Hanks-C. Purdy Dutch Defense

This game contained some of the best moves (if you like '1!¥ sacrifices), and a few of the very worst, in the whole tournament. For sheer nervous tension, both players would probably admit that it was the greatest nightmare of their chess careers.

1. d4 Like Rubinstein, Hanks has always

stuck to this. It is a policy that reduces the element of chance.

1. . . . f5 I had played this only twice in my life,

losing both times. I hoped that in the many intervening years I had learned how to play it, though the aberration at Moves 8 and 9 appears to belie this.

2. g3 Nf6 3. Bg2 e6 4. Nf3 Be7 5. 0-0 0-0 6. c4 c6 7. Nc3 d5 8. b3 Nbd7 9. Qc2 Kh8

Both players suffered the same slight mental aberration. Black has played .. . Nbd7

- 265 -


prematurely, instead of . . . QsB first. White, however, both on his 9th and lOth moves, misses Ng5 forcing the � home again. Of course White's � would not be well placed at gS, and the "gain of time" in development would be illusory, but by the immediate withdrawal to h3 (best!) White would produce a position traditionally good for operation against a Stonewall.

10. Bf4 Qe8 11. Rad1 Ne4 12. e3 Qh5 13. Nd2 g5 14. Bc7 Bd6 15. Bxd6 Nxd6 16. f3 f4

Prevents White from getting a colossal advantage in space by e4-e5 and f4.

17. e4 Qfl Must hold dS.

18. Rfe1 Rg8 19. cxd5 cxd5 20. g4 Nf8 21. e5 Ne8

This � is buried alive, like a character in an Edgar Alien Poe story. You'll see that he has no possible future on the W-side. I visualized using him purely defensively, i.e., for guarding the important square c7, where White might otherwise force an entry if Black massed on the W-side. Thus he might have pulled his weight, even though but a corpse. White's 20th, of course, was to bar him from fS.

22. Bfl 23. Bd3

Ng6 Bd7

I was anxious to make up leeway in development; but stronger was 23 ... Nh4!, merely for the purpose of forever barring h4, while Black could prepare his own . . . h5 at leisure.

24. Bxg6! Rxg6 25. a4 Rc8 26. Qd3 Nc7

Mter White's 25th, which looks like

part of a plan he never carried out, I changed my plan and resuscitated the �. I had previously envisaged . . . Bc6 and ... Rd8-d7, leading this t=l to the w-side by devious paths.

27. Rc1 Rgg8 My previous plan had been simply to

protect the key squares of the c-file (meaning c8 and c7, of course) with the minor pieces. My new plan was the more orthodox one of challenging the file outright.

28. Kg2? Loss of time. The move was Kfl, so

that White need not fear the opening of the g-file. Both players were playing rapidly now, having consumed much time over the very difficult earlier moves. I had the feeling that Hanks was losing grip slightly, and that my position was developing better than it deserved.

28. 29. Rh1 30. Kf2

h5 Qe7 Rcf8

Another change of plan, perhaps optimistic but justified by results. Bitterly regretting my omission of 23 . . . Nh4, I had feared I might have to close up the w-side forever by . . . h4 to stop h4. But in view of White's slight vacillation, it now seemed I might make the play on that wing.

31. Ne2 Be8 32. Qc3 Na6

This � is now in sight of a real square at last, a thing that formerly seemed only a dream. After playing a4, White could have gone with b4 and kept the � out. During his race against the clock he has somehow allowed Black to get a footing on both wings!

33. Rcg1? More vacillation. White cedes his pres

sure on the c-file without giving the )::l a useful post on the w-side. Apparently, in his hurry, he had not yet thought of the ingenious plan which he embarks upon next move.

- 266 -

His Games

33. • • • Rg7 34. h3

For doubling on the h-file in preparation for h4, or alternatively to force Black to block the �-side by .. . h4. But it's just too late; Black now has the bit between his teeth.

34. �4 35. Rh2 Bg6 36. Rghl Rh7

White now had to seal. Should he play passively and hope for the best, or boldly? Either course was risky. He chooses the latter.

37. h4!? hxg4 38. fxg4 £3!

Black, if he wants to win, must answer boldness with boldness. However, my brief adjournment analysis had not shown me the way to follow up this ft sacrifice, and Hanks was surprised when I took about an hour over my next two moves. Search as I would, every line seemed to fail, until suddenly the winning combination burst upon me. The grandmasters see these things quickly, and that's their main secret.

39. Nx£3 Nd3t This unpins White, and is good only

because of the combination involved. White now has a choice of two moves, both needing calculation. One is 40. Ke3, which we'll look at later.

40. Kg3! Be4! For a long time this pin had seemed

futile because of the obvious reply, by which White wins a second ft and hits a .§ .

41. Nxg5

41. . . . Qxg5!! This gets two marks only because it's

spectacular. It's not at all deep, and the play after 42. hxg5 is easy to see when you're told it's there, but not so easy on Move 39, ¥/1 sacrifices being so rare in practical play.

The same temporary ¥/1 sacrifice oc-curs after 40. Ke3. Thus 40 ... Be4 41. Nxg5 Bxh1 42. Q::d3 (if 42. Nxh7, ... Q::h7 43. Rxh1 Q§4f, etc.) f}Jg5f!!, and this time the play is even simpler.

Feeling rather smug about the ¥/1 sacrifice, I was expecting a babel of excited whispering to burst forth among the onlookers. But Hanks-the cad!-hardly gave them 30 seconds to begin taking it in before his large fist crashed onto the board to steal my thunder with . . .

42. Qxd3! The spectators were probably puzzled

how two players who could ponder so long over dull regroupings of pieces could fling away their ¥/Js instantaneously and with gay abandon. (Black had made his previous move almost before Hanks had quitted the 4).)

However, I was so taken aback by Hanks' swashbuckling gesture that I now failed to see that I had within my power a means of making him gnash his teeth in impotent rage with still a third ¥/1 sacrifice, 42... Q,xg4f!! However, it leads only to a winning f(s' ending and requires calculation at that ( 43. Kxg4 Rg7t 44. Kh3 Bxd3 45. Ng3 Rf3 46. Rg2 Be4! 4Z Rhg1 Rxb3 and

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Black has regained his ft and must win more). So even had I seen 42 . . . Qfg4f I would not have played it, as I was short of time and wanted a line with lots and lots of checks in it, which I obtained with . . .

42. Qg6 43. Qe3 Rf3t 44. Qxf3 Bxf3 45. Kxf3 Qe4t 46. Kf2 Rf7t 47. Kel Qblt 48. Kd2 Qb2t 49. Kel Qxb3

A sign that my brain was already cracking under the strain, as I missed the obvious chance of repeating my last two moves before taking the ft . This omission nearly cost me the game, as things went.

50. g5 Qb4t 51. Kdl Qxa4t 52. Kd2 Qb4t 53. Ke3 Qb3t 54. Kd2 Qb2t 55. Ke3 Qa3t 56. Kd2 Qa5t 57. Ke3 Qa3t 58. Kd2 Qa2t 59. Ke3 Qc4???

A glance at the score sheet would have shown me that I could still check again at b3. Then, after 60. Kd2, there is a quick win by 60 . . . Rf3. But presupposing I was too short of time for such niceties, and wanted a move to change the position, moving the Y/!1 was utterly absurd; obviously, the thing to do was to make some move of future value, e.g., 59 ... b5. If 60. Rc7, . . . b4 with an easy win. But of all possible Y/!1 moves, the text was the worst, as White can now hit the Y/!1 with a developing move, gaining two vital tempi, certainly assuring a draw, theoretically, and with winning chances. As I had more than 1.5 minutes, there seems little excuse for such a panic move. But I had made my last dozen moves, perforce, at

feverish speed, and perhaps it was hard to pause and think.

in.

60. Rcl Qb3t 61. Rc3 Qbl

This is where the second tempo comes

62. h5 Qe4t 63. Kd2

This is where the incident occurred, described under "Misguided Chivalry"; then followed Black's second "panic move." Several moves give a better chance than the text, e.g., 63 . . . b5.

63. . . . Qf5? 64. g6

Black now sealed, in what has become a losing position.

Although depressed after throwing away a win and perhaps a draw, I took enormous trouble over my sealed move, trying to find one which seemed to give least opportunity for clear-cut analysis, did not look very good, and yet was not bad. I have several times followed such tactics with success when sealing in bad positions. Theoretically best was probably .. . Rg7. I chose . . .

64. . . . Rd7 Success crowned my efforts, insofar as

Hanks, on resuming, consumed about 35 minutes over his next two moves; they were, however, both excellent.

65. Rhh3! b5 During the adjournment I had inexpli

cably overlooked White's 65th move. My

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His Games

blindness at least saved me from a defeatist outlook.

66. Rc£3 If it goes to g3, as was suggested, then

. .. Rg7. What then? 66. . • • Qg5t 67. Nf4?

This 4:'1 does want to come here, but the ,!":( should go in front of it first. The more patient 67. Kd1 is a winner. Could White still have forced a win after the text move?

67. Rc7 68. Rhg3 Qh6 69. Kel

An annotator suggested Kd3, threatening Nxe6. However, 69 .. . b4 (for .. . Rc3f) leaves things not very clear.

69. . • • b4 70. Ne2 Kg8

White, realizing his mistake on Move 67, has-rather unwisely-retracted it, at the cost of two tempi which Black has utilized to advance a passed ft dangerously.

71. Rh3 a5 72. Rf6

This position would be terrific for White had he obtained it earlier. Now he should not even draw, but Black, short of time, decides to play safe. He could afford 72 .. . a4!

72. 73. Rxb3 74. Rfi3

b3!? Qxh5 a4

Hanks, who was "rattled" now in much the same way as I had been near the end of the second session, now made the move I had hardly dared to hope for. With 75. Ra3 he had good drawing chances.

75. Rh3?? axb4 The third ¥11 sacrifice in the game, this

time obvious. 76. Rxh5 b2

And Black won. As Black had 14 moves to make in

about three minutes, White naturally played

on till Move 90, when he was mated. I was lucky to save this game, let alone

to win it-though had White won it, he would have claimed to be even luckier. Of such games one can say the loser won it once, but the winner twice. Such a prolonged war of nerves I have never been through before, and Hanks felt the same.

(32) Australian Championship {1951)

C. Purdy-L. Steiner Q,ueen 's Gambit Declined

1. d4 Nf6 2. c4 e6 3. Nc3 d5

In Europe it is notorious that Steiner is less happy with Black against d4 than e4, hence White's choice. Steiner's third move surprised me, as he rarely plays the Orthodox Defense; but it was logical enough in the state of the score, there being no point in striving at all hazards for a full point-as Stein er usually does.

4. Bg5 5. N£3

Be7 h6

Sensing that this might come, I had moved the 4:'1 (instead of the routine 5. e3) so as to have the option of playing e4 in one hop. Of course, Black could have transposed into the normal line by castling first ( 5 . . . 0-0 6. e3 and then 6 .. . h6, when White's best is certainly 7. Bh4). Even as it was, I played 6. Bxf6 only because of the score; it seemed right to "mix it," to gamble, to get out of stereotyped lines as soon as possible, come what might.

6. Bxf6 Bxf6 7. e4 dxe4!

Unerringly selecting the one way to attempt to capitalize on his two �s-by avoiding a fixed ft position even though it meant retarded development.

8. Nxe4 Be7

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9. Bd3 Nd7 Injudicious would be 9 .. . Bh4t 10. Ke2,

putting White still further ahead in development. Black would be too far in arrears to attempt to hurt White's �.

10. 0-0 b6 11. Qe2 Bb7 12. Rad1 0-0 13. Ne5 Qe8

Black is cramped. White can claim excellent compensation for his opponent's "two Bishops."

14. f4 Rd8 15. Bc2 f5!

Mter long thought, Black selects by far the best method of getting someplace-students must have noticed how often this idea occurs in Botvinnik's games. If the "weakness" of Black's e- i cannot be turned to account, the scheme must be good.

16. Nc3 Nxe5 The point is that if 77. Q3e5, keeping

the possibility of a frontal attack on the e- i , 17. .. Bf6 and White's d- i becomes at least as weak as Black's e- i ( 18. Q3c7?? would lose the '(1:{ to 18 ... Rd7).

17. fxe5 Kh8 18. a3

In case Black answered d5 with ... Bb4. 18. Qf7 19. d5 g6

�%'?. �: �: � � - - ·� �.t.·····!�� .. �

��,�� "�r�·�i� .... . ��;�:� �\�·�A�� ·�r�r�· � � � ?�

20. Bb3? White was playing unusually rapidly;

being desperately anxious not to get short of time against Steiner-just for this once-I

tended to move with almost nervous haste. The text move is wrong because it shuts the A away; he can be happy only if Black exchanges fts. White has an advantage in space, but, with two As to cope with, it usually pays to try and swap one off or at least neutralize it. Therefore 20. Be4!I should then prefer White's game. As it is, the initiative passes to Black.

20. 21. Rfe1 22. g3 23. h3 24. Qf3 25. Kh2 26. g4 27. Re2 28. Bc2 29. gxf5 30. Rf1 31. Qf2

Rfe8 Bh4! Be7 h5! Qg7 h4 Rf8 Bg5 Qh6 gxf5 Rg8 Rg7

A position difficult to size up. Bowman gave an excellent popular discussion of it in the Courier-Mail. It certainly looks healthy for Black, with his two As and White's exposed �. Against this, all that White can boast of is his great command of space in the center. This is always a nebulous sort of asset, impossible to evaluate with precision.

Another example occurred in Botvinnik-Bronstein, 1951. There, too, Black (Bronstein) appeared to have a splendid attack on White's �

'yet White should have

drawn. Quoting our note: "This is not surprising, since, despite all Black's ingenuity,

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His Games

White always had a little central superiority to offset the insecurity of his King." That also applies here.

Black's last move, threatening to double B:s, looks very strong.

32. dxe6! This undoubtedly came as a surprise to

Steiner. At first it looks bad. White deliberately abandons his pretty central phalanx and-worse still-removes the obstruction to Black's second �. In particular, the move invites the fairly obvious combination 32 . . . Bg2. A postmortem showed, however, that after 33. Bxj5 Bxf7 34. Q3fl White does not stand badly; he has two fts for the Exchange (doubled but central) and his 'tl can come in well.

The strategical idea behind White's abandonment of his ft center is that it gives life to his two minor pieces. His 4), from being a mere defender of a ft , now has access to d5; his �' instead of "biting granite," bears upon a real target. It's just a question of whether White can survive the momentary insecurity, and it seems that he can. But if White waited until Black doubled B:s, it would be too late. Shakespeare, as usual, sums it up: "To jump a body with a dangerous physic, that's sure of death without it."

However, the move was not so good as to deserve the windfall it actually produced.

32. . • . Be3? A case of "chess blindness." The �

itself cannot be taken, but Black has somehow missed the obvious counter or miscalculated it, and his game is ruined.

Now to return to the position one more move before the diagram, i.e., after 37. Qfl. After a postmortem, Steiner finally concluded that he ought to have prevented 32. dxe6 by the quiet withdrawal 37 . . . Be7! A hard move to play, because 32. dxe6 looks at first sight something to invite rather than prevent. But it certainly would have given

White a terribly difficult game. This is a good illustration of the fallacy

of judging positions on first appearances. After throwing away his attractive ft phalanx, White appeared to have made his position worse, whereas he had in fact saved the situation-that's not counting Black's blunder, which, of course, alters things completely.

33. Qxf5 34. Be4 35. Nxe4 36. Khl 37. Nf6

Rdg8 Bxe4 Bglt Bd4

Sealed. I saw a steady win this way and was too tired to work out the pretty smash that Baay demonstrated afterwards by 37. Qf6! Qjt5 38. Q3g7f!! Kxg7 (after . . . Rxg7 the win is obvious) 39. Rg2f Kh6 40. Rf6f Kh7 47. Rflf Kh6 42. Rh7f!! Kxh7, and now White wins back his B: and ¥11 with successive checks.

37. 38. Nxg8 39. Nxh6 40. Kg2 41. Kh2 42. Nf5

Rg5 Rxf5 Rxflt Rglt Rg6 c5

If 42 . . . Bc5, 43. b4!and mustwin the �. 43. Nxh4 Rxe6 44. N£3 Kg7 45. Kg3 Kf8 46. Kf4 Rh6 47. h4 Ke7 48. Kg5 Rh8 49. h5 Rf8 50. Kg4 Rg8t 51. Kf4 Rf8t 52. Ke4 Rg8 53. h6 Rh8 54. Nxd4 cxd4 55. Rh2 Resigns.

- 27 1 -


(33) Australasian Championship Match

{1952), 4th Match Game C. Purdy-0. Sarapu

Ruy Lopez

Two down and seven to play looked to most people a gloomy prospect for Australia's emissary. Twenty years ago I had the idea that such a disadvantage in a short match between two masters meant certain defeat, because the leader "only needed to play for draws." Then, in 1934, came the Botvinnik-Flohrmatch { 12 games) in which Botvinnik was two down with only five to play. Did Botvinnik gamble wildly? No, he coolly played the French Defense in Game 8. Drawn two down and four to play! Then he won the 9th and lOth games, and, winding up with two draws, halved the match.

Yet I could not understand how such a thing could happen between grandmasters until long afterwards, when experience of top-line correspondence chess convinced me that "machine-like accuracy" in overthe-board play was impossible. At last I saw why it was so hard to "play for a draw," especially with Black, and saw how easily it was for Flohr to fail to win that match. Consequently, it was not so much the score that worried me as the problem, could I play better chess?

Now in the fourth game, I played good moves, but not fast enough; a very good save by Sarapu.

1. e4 2. Nf3 3. Bb5 4. Ba4 5. 0-0 6. Re1 7. Bb3 8. c3 9. h3

10. Bc2

e5 Nc6 a6 Nf6 Be7 b5 d6 0-0 Na5 c5

1 1. d4 (tc7 12. Bg5

Suddenly bursting from super-orthodoxy into the unorthodox. Usual is 12. Nbd2, with a snake-in-grass development. The idea of the text move is "to develop the Qside quickly and if possible to bring the Queen's Bishop back to g3 with pressure on Black's e-pawn."

12. . . . cxd4 Black hypnotizes himself into an illogi

cal move, opening a file onto his ¥11. It is good play after 12. Nbd2, but not here where White is developing quickly. In the World Correspondence Championship Dr. Balogh played against me 12 ... h6 13. BM Nc6, which Lajos Steiner considered to be Black's strongest answer.

13. cxd4 Nc6 14. Nbd2 exd4

Black cannot escape the slight but telling consequences of his 12th move.

Black could delay White's seizure of the c-file by 14 .. . Nb4 15. Bb 1, but his own 4:) would be out of play, leaving White an absolutely free hand in the center.

15. Racl Developing and thus avoiding my mis

take in Game 3, rushing to recapture a weak .ft. . Here if 15. Nb3, .. . Nb4 is most annoying.

15. . . . (tb6 If 15 .. . Be6 16. Nb3 Bxb3 1Z Bxb3 QjJ6,

either 18. Bd5 {simplest) or 18. Rc2 regains the .ft. with a big advantage.

16. Nb3 ReS 17. Nbxd4 Nxd4 18. (txd4

I felt that either recapture should win, and preferred the simpler. Sarapu feared Nxd4 more. The text move, by the way, follows the general principle, recapture with a developing move.

18. 19. Nxd4 20. Bf4

(txd4 h6 Nh5

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His Games

21. Be3 Gain, not loss, of time, as Black's 4J

has been lured from the center. 21. Bb7 22. Nf5 B£8 23. f3 Rac8 24. Bb3 Nf6

Theoretically, White has a winning position, and without any obvious errors by Black after his 14th move. This vindicates White's judgment on Move 18. Practically, White did not have a winning game at all, as he had played too slowly and now had 21 moves to make in a quarter of an hour, not quite enough for the accurate play still required. Here I wanted to play 25. Bd4!, clearly a powerful centralization, but somehow 25 ... Nd7 seemed to me an adequate reply. I failed to see that it could be refuted by 26. Bxg7!, a combination pointed out by the backroom boys, and absolutely decisive, as students should verify as a valuable exercise. Instead, I attacked the d- .ft. . This was less logical. The important thing is to ensure that Black can never safely play . . . d5; Black should thus die by slow torture.

25. Bf4 Red8! 26. Rxc8 Bxc8 27. Nd4 d5! 28. Nc6

A move hard to avoid under time pressure, as the obvious 28. e5 seems so well met by 28... Bc5. However, this was actually White's last chance to win, which is very instructive as showing the importance of

maintaining a blockader, a la Nimzovich: 28. e5! Bc5! 29. Be3 Nd7! ( . . . Re8is worse) 30. Nc6 (now) Re8 31. Bxd5 Nxe5 32. Bxc5 Nxf3f 33. Bxj3 Rxe1f 34. Kf2, and White has two pieces for � and ft , which is advantageous here because he has the As, and the three minor pieces can combine. If 34 .. . Rc1, 35. Bd4! Be6 36. a3 Kf8 37. Bc3, and Black has an extremely difficult and perhaps losing game, with his � rather bottled and his a- ft rather weak.

28. Re8 29. e5 Bb7 30. Rcl Nd7 31. Bxd5 Nxe5!

The point of Black's well calculated defense. Although his game seems only to hang together by bits of string, it does hold.

32. Bxe5 Bxc6 33. Rxc6 Rxe5 34. Be4 a5 35. Kf1 g6!

An amateur would have played 35 .. . Rc5 to get the �s off, thinking thus to make the draw surer; but it would in fact make it harder, White being well ahead in � development, which is more important than anything else in opposite-A endings, e.g., 36. Rxc5 Bxc5 37. Ke2 Kj8 38. Kd3 Ke7 39. Bc6 b4 40. Kc4 Kd6 41. Be8 f6 42. Kb5 gaining a .ft. and at least some excuse for continuing play.

36. Rc8 37. a3

Kg7 Be7

Drawn by agreement. It was a mistake to say, as many did,

that White "should have won." A player who gets short of time is always taking a risk. It is good luck if he continues to find the best moves, rather than bad luck if he doesn't.

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(1952), 5th Match Game 0. Sarapu-C. Purdy

Sicilian Defense

This was the game in which I took the advice given by CJ.S. Purdy in a lecture at Morrinsville. The results were such that, as Spielmann said when he suddenly went over to the d- it opening and achieved the greatest success of his career (second at Carlsbad 1929), "I myself was almost speechless."

It may be of interest to some that, since a score of two down and only six to play, and the Black pieces to come, seemed to demand some new form of preparation, I went to a cocktail party the night before the game. It is important to time these things well; years of experience are necessary in order to judge exactly at what point, if any, in a chess event a cocktail party may be attended with good results.

1. e4 c5 2. N£3 Nc6 3. d4 cxd4 4. Nxd4 g6!

This is what I call the Uninhibited Dragon. Normally, to avoid the Maroczy "Bind" (5. c4) Black prepares the way with 4 ... Nf6to force 5. Nc3. That in turn makes it necessary for him to play .. . d6(to prevent e5 hitting the �). Yet Black wishes to play .. . d5 ultimately, so .. . d6loses time. I have always suspected that the Maroczy Bind is a bit of a "have."

If the Maroczy Bind is okay for Black, quite obviously the best way of playing the Dragon is the one adopted here.

5. Nc3 Sarapu suggested either 5. Nb3 or 5. f4

as better. In either case, the advantage of delaying .. . Nfti would still be evident.

5. . . . Bg7

6. Be3 Certainly Nb3 is better here (see note

to Move 7). 6. . . . Nf6!

Black no longer fears 7. Nxc6 bxc6 8. e5 Ng8 because White has, in a sense, lost a tempo, in that his Be3 does not fit in with the defense of his outpost it . If 9. Bf4, ... Qg5 just about wins. If 9. f4, ... d6.

7. f3 This idea against the Dragon (Nd5 in

view) is better with the ¥11-A at home, protecting the b- it for the time being. Better now was 7. Be2 and 0-0, but Black would . . . 0-0 and free his game by .. . d5 with at least easy equality. In the Dragon, . . . d5 usually equalizes even if played in two steps. Black's idea in this game is to play it in one step.

7. 0-0 8. Nb3 d5! 9. exd5 Nb4

10. Qd2 Sarapu could have gained a lot of clock

time here by playing 10. Bc4, the answer to which I had not worked out-1 merely felt that 8 ... d5had to be right. The only answer to 10. Bc4 is 10 .. . BJ5 (I intended that anyway) 11. Nd4 Qf8!This move is not obvious, but regains the it with advantage in all variations, e.g., 12. Bb3 Rd8 13. g4!? Nfxd5 14. Nxd5 Nxd5 15. Bxd5 Rxd5 16. gxf5 Bxd4 17. Bxd4 Q3f5 and Black must regain the piece with a winning game.

White's actual plan, of¥!1-side castling, is positionally very attractive, but all positional ideas must be checked against possible combinations.

10. 1 1. Nd4 12. Nxd5 13. Nxf5

Bf5 Nfxd5 Nxd5 gxf5

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His Games

14. 0-0-0?? There must be something fatally easy

about this blunder. I showed the position to several strong players, and they all chose castling for White! Bad luck for Sarapu that his h- ft was not on h3, as 0-0-0 would then have been, instead of a blunder, a move of extraordinary brilliance.

A curious feature is that White has, in any case, no quite satisfactory move. Mter 14. c3 Qg5! (Sarapu) Black is threatening to sacrifice his 4), and White's best defense then is 15. Bh6, but after 15 .. . f4! (Sarapu) 16. Bxg7 Kxg7 it is clear that White is at a serious disadvantage, no longer having the two ..\ls as partial compensation. In a correspondence game, Black could consider himself in a winning position.

14. . • • Nxe3 15. Qxe3 Bxb2t!

Obvious, of course; but before playing it, Black had to make sure White could not retaliate with an "immortal," i.e., routine sacrifice of two �s. Once the spectators had seen .. . Bxb2f, most of them probably wondered why Black spent several minutes over it.

16. Kxb2 Qxd1 17. g4 Rac8!

I worked out that the quickest way to win was to compel White, now, to try an "immortal," having first made absolutely sure that it was unsound. Thus, one more principle, "destroy counterchances," goes by the board. Very often the most artistic

(shortest) way to win is the one that gives the opponent rope-to hang himself.

18. Bd3 Virtually forced, else he might as well

resign at once. 18. Qxh1

Kh8 19. Qg5t 20. Qxe7 21. Bxf5 22. Bxc8

f6! Qxh2 Qe5t

The point. 23. Qxe5 fxe5

Because now White can play neither Bxb7??, losing the .,\},, nor Bj5??( ... Rxj5 and ft queens) . Therefore he must lose a ft in addition to the Exchange, and can make no fight.

24. Be6 25. Kcl 26. Kd1 27. a4 28. Bc8 29. a5 30. c4 31. Be6 32. Resigns.

(35)

Rxf3 Rf2 Kg7 Kf6 b6 Kg5 Rf4 Rxg4

Australasian Championship Match 6th Match Game

C. Purdy-0. Sarapu Ruy Lopez

In some ways the most interesting game of the match. It had the spectators puzzled from start to finish; and even Sarapu, just after the game, confessed that he could not see where he had started to go wrong. That was before he had studied it, of course. For my part, it was the best Lopez I can remember playing over the board, not counting some wins against weaker opposition. It takes two to make a genuinely good game.

1. e4 e5 2. N£3 Nc6

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3. Bb5 a6 4. Ba4 d6 5. c3 Bd7 6. Bb3

I had not prepared against the Steinitz Defense Deferred, and wished to avoid prepared lines. The text move has some point, inasmuch as Black cannot immediately play ... Nf6 (because of Ng5). Nevertheless, there can be only one really good move, 6. d4. If 6 ... Nge7, then 7. Bb3, threatening Ng5, is strong.

6. 7. d4 8. Bg5 9. dxe5!

g6 Bg7 Nf6!

Decidedly best. It prevents Black's fianchetto � from blossoming out, and also rules out a frontal attack on White's e- it .

9. . . . dxe5 There was much to be said for 9 ...

Nxe5, and here we have an additional virtue in 6. Bb3. With White's � still on a4 Black would certainly have played ... Nxe5, facing White with a freeing exchange of �s (freeing Black).

10. Nbd2 h6! Facing White with a difficult decision:

h4 or e3? I have not made up my mind yet, but incline to e3.

1 1. Bh4 0-0 At least Black should reserve the op-

tion of . . . 0-0-0, which would make the ad-vance ... g5 a Good Thing. Therefore 7 7 ... Qs7.

12. Qe2 Qe7 13. h3

To force Black to play ... g5 at once (with some weakening effect on his castled <;f;l) or else to abandon it entirely, because once White is allowed to play g4 his � can go to g3 without fear of ... Nh5.

13. Rfe8 14. g4! Qc5 15. Bg3

As the game goes, this appears to be a loss of time, but AL. Fletcher in the New Zealand Chessplayer showed that had Black continued with 75 .. . Na5 instead of the way he does, the value of the text move, putting pressure on the e- it , would have been evident.

15. . . . Be6 16. Nh2!

With Black's A no longer able to go to b4 (after ... Na5), White embarks on a highly Steinitzian central setup- its on e4 and c3-an extremely difficult one to assail.

16. Rad8 17. Nhf1 b5 18. f3 Na5

By . . . b4, Black might give White an isolated c- it , but as he would get a weak a- it himself it would not help much, and meanwhile 79. Bj2would worry Black, since . .. Q95 would be spoiled by Nc4.

19. Bf2 Qc6 20. Bxe6 Rxe6 21. Ne3 Red6

The onlookers, I heard afterwards, almost all thought Black's position very strong here, and Sarapu himself was inclined to view it fairly optimistically. I had been under the impression ever since Move 14 that my position was superior. This seems about right. The illusion of Black's advantage is created by his formidable doubled )::'!s, as compared with White's, which are still in the corners. But the latter trouble can be rectified in one move. Less obvious is the

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His Games

feebleness of Black's minor pieces on the �-side, which now have no bearing on the center or '*-side at all, while White's minor pieces are well centralized. The upshot is that Black's l==!,s, insufficiently supported by other units, can be held at bay while White's l==!,s get into the game. White's delay in 0-0-0 is typical of this maneuvering type of game.

22. 0-0-0 b4 23. c4 Qa4

Black continues in aggressive vein. 24. Kbl b3

Which, however, only facilitates White's task. It is indeed difficult to say just where Black started to have a losing game, but undoubtedly his premature 11 . . . 0-0set him difficult problems from then on. Even at this stage, so prevalent was the notion of a Black advantage that White was expected to close things up with 25. a3, a bad move, as it would enable Black's A to "talk" at once by . . . Bj8, threatening a subsequent sacrifice. I must confess that I had previously thought I might have to play a3 at this stage, and only when the position cropped up did I see the simple solution.

25. Nxb3 Nxb3 26. axb3 Qxb3 27. Qc2 Qb7

Now that the l==!,s are doomed to exchange, Black's only consolation is the slightly exposed position of White's �; therefore Black keeps the '*s on. The ending with '*s off should be lost for Black, because White's minor pieces and � are in play and Black's are not.

28. Rxd6 Rxd6 29. c5! Rd8 30. Rdl Rb8

Choice of evils, but leaving White's !! on the open file seems the greater. Sarapu had realized the inferiority of his position right from the nasty surprise on Move 25, and was not "playing to win" as some thought, but desperately trying to stem the

tide. 31. Nc4

Point of White's 27th. To play Nd5 would swap off one of Black's bad pieces.

31. . . . Nh7 32. Bg3 Ng5

Excitement was at fever heat now because White had 13 moves to make in under ten minutes-stop me if you've heard this before.

33. Bxe5 f6 Not .. . Nxj3, losing a piece. 34. Bg3 Nxf3 35. e5!!?

It was curious that, being now in fairly serious clock trouble, this rather fantastic method of winning should occur to me, rather than the simple win of material pointed out by the umpire, A.E. Turner. These umpires are cagey fellows. Had Turner troubled to mention his idea to me at the time, I should have adopted it, namely 35. Na5! Any reply loses either the c- ft or the Exchange, and without giving Black any serious counterplay.

35. Nxe5 36. Bxe5 fxe5 37. Qxg6 Qb3???

An extraordinary attack of chess blindness; he was only moderately short of time.

38. Rd7 Resigns Of course 3Z .. Qf3! Then 38. Qf6f

followed by 39. Rd7 invariably won easily in the postmortem. Sarapu always answered 38. Qf6f with the natural .. . KhB, and he would very likely have played it. But try the self-pin, 38 .. . Kh7! 39. Rd7 and now 39 ... Rh4! This makes the win quite difficult, as White cannot now check at d8 and g8 and then fork � and '*. Instead, he has to play 40. Na3. This probably wins still. White threatens Q3e5. Failing that, RxcZ And, Black's '* must continue to guard against mate by Qj5f, etc. We see no defense, but Black could make a long resistance.

- 277 -


This was the first time in his life that Sarapu had lost two successive games!


(1952), 8th Match Game C. Purdy-0. Sarapu

Ruy Lopez

Sarapu was one up and three to play. This time, it was his turn to make a mistake in the opening. But only one, and a very keen struggle developed.

1. e4 e5 2. N£3 Nc6 3. Bb5

Most players, when badly needing a full point, think it necessary to play something extremely unusual to avoid the "risk of a draw." But you are not playing a machine. A draw comes about only through failure to play better than your opponent. To play wildly in the opening certainly increases the element of chance, but why should it increase it in your favor?

3. a6 4. Ba4 Nf6 5. 0-0 Be7 6. Re1 b5 7. Bb3 d6 8. c3 0-0 9. h3 Na5

10. Bc2 c5 1 1. d4 (tc7 12. Nbd2

Completely orthodox so far. This move initiates what I describe as the snake-ingrass development, as compared with the unusual 12. Bg5 which I played in the 4th Game.

12. . . . cxd4 Many years ago, this was hailed by

Flohr as almost a refutation of the orthodox snake-in-grass line. Because White's il¥-side development is retarded, Black opens the

c-file with the idea of gaining further time by hitting the white <it?-A ( . . . RcB). The intervening years of further analysis have confirmed that White can still hope for a shade of advantage.

13. cxd4 Bb7 This Russian idea has had a fair vogue

for some years. The idea is subsequently to liquify the center completely by ... d5, or alternatively to induce White to close up the center by 14. d5. The latter is White's simplest, and it is not yet certain who has the better chances. Black's intention was to regroup by 14 ... Bc8.

14. Nfl d5 An error, though not as serious as at

first appears. Black should play 14 .. . Rac8, the point of playing 12 ... cxd4 in the first place. Sarapu's reason for omitting it was that he thought White could afford the reply 15. Ne3, advancing his development, but he realized afterwards that it would be refuted by 15 ... Nxe4 since 16. Nj5 0Jc2 17. Nxe7f Kh8 18. Nxc8 is answered nastily by 18 . .. OJJ2f, etc. In fact, the best reply to 14 .. . Rac8 seems to be 15. Bb1, and I had spent some time studying this line before the game, from Euwe's Archives. After 15. Bb 1, then 15 .. . d5, and knife-edged play follows.

15. exd5 e4 16. Ng5! Rac8

Now there is no need for White to retard his development by Bb 1.

17. Ne3 Rfd8 18. Nxe4 Nxd5 19. Nxd5 Bxd5

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His Games

Black has largely rectified his slight error on Move 14 because, with the disappearance of White's � from e3, White is faced, after all, with some loss of time over his c:a;-A. Therefore Black has considerable compensation for his ft -at least 2.5 tempi in development. It was a great temptation to me here to save some time by 20. Nc3. Black would then have to withdraw his A from d5, presumably. This, however, would actually be a gain to him, as it would disclose pressure on the "isolated cl-pawn"'. But 20. Bd3would also weaken the cl- ft by preventing its protection from the rear. Finally, 2 0. Re2 allowed the combination 2 0 . .. Bc4 21. Rd2 Bb4 22. Nc3 Be6 and apparently Black at least regains his ft with a good game.

20. Bd3 Finally I decided that as Black's pieces,

though well developed, were massed mainly on the �-side, I should play whatever move gave the best chances of a ®-side attack, even if the valuable passed ft fell in the process. Therefore the � should not voluntarily withdraw from its strong post. Over all these problems I took 40 minutes.

20. (tb7 21. Qg4 Be6 22. Qg3 Kf8

White's reward is swift. Already Black is on the defensive. Not 22 . . . Rxd4 23. Bh6 g6?because of 24. Q§5. Or, in this, 23 . . . Bj8, when Nf6f is strong.

Black's choice of the text move instead of . . .KhB reminds one of Tarrasch's dictum that when tempted to "play for the endgame," one must remember that "the gods have placed the middlegame before the endgame." One can almost always treat . . . KhB as the lesser evil.

23. Nc5! By means of a combination, White is

able to show in a few moves that Black's ® move was wrong. After 22... KhB White

would have had to rely on steady play by 23. Be3, probably.

23. 24. dxc5 25. b4 26. Be4 27. Be3

Bxc5 Rxc5 Rc3 (tc8

The point of the whole combination is the threat of Bc5f now. Black's next move sets an ingenious trap. Both players were clock-pressed now.

27. Rd4! 28. Reel! 29. Rxc3

Rxe4 Nc4

The trap was that if Racl ?? on Move 28, instead of Reel, 29 . .. (}}cl would win here, for although the � would be lost, Black would get tons of wood. But now Black has nothing.

30. Rdl f6 31. Rcd3 Kf7 32. Rd8 (tc6 33. Bc5 g6 34. (tb8 Re5

Clock trouble, but it was hopeless anyway.

35. (ta7t and Black overstepped his time.

(37) Australasian Championship

{1952), lOth Match Game C. Purdy-0. Sarapu

French Defense

Once again Sarapu had the lead. This fmal game was the only one not played at night. It was played on a Saturday afternoon, and because of big outdoor sporting attractions and the general desire for excursions on the first fine weekend seen in Auckland for a month, the attentance was expected to be the lowest of all. But it was the highest by a few heads-total 104.

The New Zealand Chess Player credits

- 279 --


Chess World with stating that the match created a record for attendances for any event of the kind ever held in Australia or New Zealand. What we said was that the match pulled the biggest average daily "gate" of any chess event ever held in Australasia. "Gate" is ambiguous; we meant it as gate receipts. For actual numbers, there was one event that beat it, only the admission charge was slightly lower. That event was the Australian Championship held in Sydney in 1945, organized and conducted solely by the Sydney Chess Club. For that event, 1200 people paid a gross total of about 1 15 pounds. With 15 rounds, the average paid attendance was 80 per day. The Auckland average was that, or very near it, and, considering that the populations are in the ratio of something like four to one, Auckland's figures certainly constitute a record proportionately.

It was indeed a momentous gamefrom an international viewpoint the most momentous of both players' careers. Sarapu had the comfort of knowing, however, that whatever happened, he could not emerge as the vanquished. Above all, a draw would give him victory.

On the other hand, I had the white pieces. This is always an advantage in practice, but especially when giving "the odds of the draw."

1. e4 e6 This was easily foreseen. I knew Sarapu

liked the French Defense, especially the Winawer Variant, and the circumstances favored it. He had fared badly as Black in the Lopez.

2. d4 d5 3. Nc3

Statistics would show, I am sure, that fewer games are drawn with this than with 3. Nd2. A draw was a loss for me. Therefore the choice was clear.

3. . • . Bb4

I knew Sarapu favored this. He does not care for 3 ... dxe4, preferring if possible to make every move strengthen his hold on central squares. In this respect Sarapu tends towards dogmatism, but that is actually an advantage for over-the-board play. A tendency to be systematic in the opening saves time later in the game. The one disadvantage is that one's moves can be more easily foretold. For instance, had I been more familiar with Sarapu's style in the early stages, I would have saved a vital tempo in Game 3 (where I played h3 to stop a move he would not even have considered in that position, .. . Bg4).

4. e5 This is best, and yet the other moves

( 4. Nge2, 4. a3, and 4. Qg4) which Alekhine tried in his 1935 match with Euwe should appear more often than they do; most players have forgotten the correct play against them.

4. . . . c5 5. a3 Bxc3t

Acceptance of the ft gives White ample compensation in position, and is rarely tried. As yet not fully analyzed is 5 .. . Ba5.

6. bxc3 Qc7 This move, usually credited to the Rus

sians, was first discovered by G .H. Hastings, the Western Australian player, about 1937, the year he shared in a quadruple tie for the Australian title; it was extensively analyzed by him and played by several Australians. About ten years later, it was reinvented by the Russians, and occurred in the tourney for the World Championship 1948. The idea is simultaneous protection of g7 in anticipation of Qg4 (White's theme move in the Winawer) and masked attack in the c-file.

7. Qg4 f5 8. Qg3 cxd4

Golombek queries this move of Botvinnik's (Book of the World Championship,

- 280 -

His Games

1948), and points out that 8 . .. Nc6 would force White to play 9. Nj3, losing the possibility of the strong maneuver Ne2f4. My opinion is that White's superior .ft. position, which gives him much more maneuvering space than Black, is his chief asset, and this remains wherever his 4:'1 goes. And Botvinnik's method (withholding the 'l:¥-4:'1) enables Black to threaten White's c2 and thus gain time on Move 10.

9. cxd4 Ne7

The g- .ft. can be left undefended pro tern, and Black himself threatens .. . Q3c2 (because Bd2 in reply could now be answered simply by castling). White is debarred from any good developing move (Bd3?? would lose a §) . Reshevsky now played 10. Bd2, which is technically a developing move, but a concession, in that the ,il gives up the possibility of taking its ideal square a3. Further, the d- .ft. will still need protection. Sarapu had closely studied Reshevsky-Botvinnik, and believed Black could obtain a very satisfactory game after 10. Bd2.

10. c3! Surely a distinct improvement on Re

shevsky's move, for although the white i:¥ is now tied to the protection of c3, it is not for a great many moves, while White's other pieces are all freer. Subsequent analysis has failed to reveal any clear equalizing defense.

10. . . . 0-0 This could safely be delayed still, in

favor of ultimate i:¥-side castling ( 10 ... Nbc6 is okay because 11. Q,xg7?would lead, after .. . RgB, etc., to an obvious pseudo-sacrifice of the i:¥-4:'1), but still a4 followed by Ba3 and probably Bd6 is rather strong.

11 . a4! �c6 Black might exchange off one of

White's two ,ils by 11 ... b6, but his own e- .ft. becomes a glaring weakness, e.g., 12. Ba3 Ba6 13. Bxa6 Nxa6 14. Ne2 and Black cannot stop Nf4, after which his position is very uncomfortable.

12. Nh3 Ng6 To stop the powerful Nf4. If 12 .. . Na5,

we have the reason for the early a4. White must play Ba3 before . .. Nc4. Mter 12 ... Na5, 13. Ba3 Nc4 14. Bxc4 (okay, because Black cannot now recapture with his 'l:¥) dxc4 15. Bd6 QP 16. a5! and Black's cramp is preserved. Remember in coping with a cramped opponent, don't attack, simply keep him cramped.

13. Be2 f4!? White cannot accept this .ft. (because

of subsequent obvious sacrifices and ultimately 17. .. Qs3f), but a new weakness is created in Black's game. Nevertheless, Sarapu showed his usual good position judgment in estimating his plight as already desperate enough to try desperate remedies. White's control of the dark squares is so vast and permanent that there could not be any really satisfactory defense.

14. Qd3 Bd7 15. 0-0 Rac8 16. Ba3 Nce7 17. Bh5! Rf7

Sarapu had evidently intended ... Rj5 here, when playing .. f4, but after thinking 50 minutes he worked out that by extremely precise play White could obtain a winning position. In such cases one often discards what is really the best chance, forgetting that passive moves involve almost certain defeat-better to take the chance of the op-

- 28 1 -


ponent not finding the precise win. Sarapu gave as the main line 7Z .. Rf5 78. Bg4 (8:c3 79. (8:c3 Rxc3 20. Bxe7 Nxe7, and now 27. Rfc7! with a winning game. Here White's threat of winning the Exchange is stronger than the execution.

18. Rfc1 (tc4 19. (tb1 b6

Black is in a sad way. However, White had 26 moves to make quickly, so there was still some practical hope.

20. Bxe7 Rxe7 21. Bxg6 hxg6 22. (txg6 Be8

White has not only a ft plus, but still a far superior position. However, much hangs on White's next move. Is the win to be easy or rather tricky?

23. (!g5! Rf7 The point was, if 23 ... Rec7 24. Nxf4

(8:d4 (offering '#! for mate), White obtains a treble fork.

24. Nxf4 Rf5 25. Qg3 Bt7 26. h3 (tb3 27. (te3 g5 28. Ne2 Bg6 29. g4 Rf7 30. (txg5 llg7

Black is three fts down, but he had to continue, as White was now getting both hands to his clock and moving with his teeth, in effect.

31. (tf6 32. (txe6t 33. (th6 34. (te3 35. Ng3 36. Nh5 37. t3 38. Nf6t 39. exf6 40. Ra2 41. Kg2 42. Rh1

Rf8 Bt7 Rg6 (tc4 Be6 (tc8 (td8 Rfxf6 (tx£6 (th4 Rh6 llesigns

White still had a minute or more and only three moves to make, and no problems, so that "Resigns" was sound.

{38) Eastern Suburbs Invitation

Tournament (1953} V. Walsh-C. Purdy

King's Indian (Notes by M.E. Goldstein.)

1. d4 Nf6 2. c4 d6 3. g3 e5 4. d5

After exchange of center fts and '#Is, Black has a minute advantage for the endgame because White's c- ft is advanced and potentially weak when his rat-A is fianchettoed.

But psychologically, when playing against a master like Purdy who may not be in top form in the first round, 4. dxe5 and 5. (8:d8fmight be preferable. (But Walsh, also, was not in top form. What then? -Purdy).

4. • • • g6 Now Black transposes into a King's

Indian in which the tension in the center has already been resolved. White retains, as against that, an advantage in space.

5. Nc3 Bg7 6. e4 0-0 7. Bg2 a5 8. Nge2 Na6 9. 0-0 Nc5

10. h3 A line practiced by Bronstein is 70. j3

followed by Be3. If Black then pushes .. .J5-f4, White's '#!-A can withdraw to f2, with a '#!-side ft push to follow. The '#!-A also helps in the defense of his rat-side.

10. Bd7 11 . Be3 b6 12. b3

Not 72. a3? a4! paralyzing White's '#!-

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His Games

side fts-an artifice which should be carefully noted by the student.

12. . . . Nh5 13. Qd2

Consistent with White's 12th would have been 13. a3, for b4.

13. f5 14. Rad1 f4

Positionally a killer. White should have played 14. exj5 gxj5 15. Racl, preventing .. f4 by supporting the 4) on c3.

15. Bxc5 bxc5 16. g4 f3 17. gpdh5 Qh4! 18. Bx£3

With the disappearance of the white �-.Q. the weakness of White's light-colored squares soon proves fatal.

18. Fbd3 19. Ng3 Bxh3 20. Nce2 Raf8!

White is already dead; he now elects to grab fts to fill in time during his burial service.

21. Qxa5 Bh6! 22. Qxc7 Be3! 23. fxe3

Or 23. Nhl 0$4f 24. Neg3 Rxg3f and mates.

23. . . . Rxg3t 24. White resigns

A good example of the venom in the King's Indian when White fails to get his counterattack going. Purdy gives a fine demonstration of Black's possibilities in this line,

which has pitfalls for both sides.

(39) Victoria-NSW Telex Match {1953)

J. Hanks-C. Purdy King's Indian Defense

At Board 2, Hanks opposed the King's Indian in original style, but his 7. g4, a move rather in tune with modem aggressive tendencies in the opening, proved premature here.

1. d4 Nf6 2. c4 g6 3. Nc3 Bg7 4. e4 d6 5. Be2

This and the next move are good. The idea is to meet . . . 0-0 with a quick rush of the h- ft 0

5. Nbd7 6. Be3 e5 7. g4

But this is premature, Black not having castled. I incline to the simple 7. Nf3, as 7. .. Ng4 would accomplish nothing ( 8. Bg5 [6 9. Bel and Black has lost as much time as White) . But there were also 7. h3, 7. f3, 7. d5, 7. Qd2, and even 7. f4 to be considered.

7. . . . h5 Black must keep an equal share of the

board. 8. g5 9. Bxg4

10. d5

Ng4 hxg4 f5

White was banking on Black's inability to play, as Black would wish, 10 .. . Nc5 {because of b4). However, the text is quite safe. Then we have a position in which the overriding feature is White's terribly weak h- ft .

1 1. gxf6 Nxf6 12. Qd2 Qe7 13. 0-0-0 a6 14. Nge2

If, instead, White freed his �-side by

- 283 -


j3 it would be at the cost of giving free rein to Black's light-squared 1,l.

14. Bd7 15. Kb1 Rh3

Not wishing to tell White yet whether he will castle, Black plays the first move of doubling on the h-file. If 16. Ng1, at least Black can lose no time. Quite tempting was 15 ... b5 ( 16. cxb5 axb5) followed by a policy of playing on both wings. However, Black's c- ft would become weak, and besides, such strategy requires finesse and may involve clock trouble. In general, act on the wing where you have the initiative (as Emanuel Lasker impressed upon Edward, vide Chess Secrets).

16. Ncl Massing too obviously for an attack

against Black's castled (he hopes) 'iff. 16. . . . Kf7

This leaves White with virtually no option but to give up the h- ft , and very little prospect of compensation.

17. Nd3 Rah8 18. Rdfl Bh6!

It was a wrench to part voluntarily with "the two Bishops," but if ... Rxh2, etc., a subsequent pin was unpleasant.

19. Bxh6 R8xh6 20. f3!?

Black's immediate threat was .. . Kg7, making things safe. The text move is a rather desperate combination designed to obtain drawing chances. Black can just go ahead and grab everything, as he cannot

lose. 20. 21. Rxf3 22. Qxh6 23. Rg1

gxf3 Rxf3 Rxd3

Not 23. Rf1 Rh3. Now Black can give back some wood, remaining only the Exchange up for a ft , but in a position where the § is powerful.

23. Bg4 24. Rxg4 Nxg4 25. Qh7t Ke8 26. Qxg6t Qfl 27. Qxg4 Kd8 28. Kc2 Rf3 29. h4 Rf4 30. Qg1 b6! 31. Qg3 Kc8 32. Qh3t Qd7

No need to allow tricks by Q!6 at some stage, as might occur if the 'iff went away at once.

33. Qh2 Qg4 34. h5 Qh4 35. Qxh4 Rxh4 36. b4 Rxh5 37. a4 Rh2t 38. Kb3

Or Kd3, permitting . . . Rh2. 38. Rd2 39. a5 bxa5 40. bxa5 Rd4

Establishing paralysis. 41. Kb4 Kd7 42. Kb3 Ke7 43. Kb4 Kf6 44. Kb3

In vain would be 44. Nb5, etc. Black takes the �, then the e- ft , and still stops the ft .

But if now 44 ... Kg5, then Na2-b4!would prolong it.

44. 45. Kc2 46. Kxc3

Rd3 Rxc3t Kg5

- 284 -

His Games

4 7. White resigns Black wins the e- .ft. by the Abbe

Durand's rule of limits (see Guide to Good Chess, Part IV)-just as in the finish to the game at Board 1. If the c- .ft. marches, Black ignores it.

(40) (�.,\ � :J! World Correspon ence

Championship (1953) C. Purdy-M. Napolitano

Nimzo-Indian Defense

1. c4 In all games as White I opened with

the English, except two in which I played the Lopez. Today if I had the same task before me-which heaven forbid-my first thought would be to play 7. e4 in all the White games, and I should probably end up doing so.

1. . . . Nf6 2. d4

White has gained nothing by his transposition except the dubious satisfaction of having avoided a Queen's Gambit Accepted. My main idea, actually, had been to lure a few opponents into the Reversed Sicilian, as this gives a complex game with good possibilities for both sides. In C. C., a simple style won't win a world title.

2. e6 3. Nc3 Bb4 4. a3

This is at any rate the fiercest line against the Nimzo. In the next decade it slipped back a little, but it is still popular.

4. Bxc3t 5. bxc3 c5 6. e3 Nc6 7. Bd3 e5 8. Ne2 d6 9. e4 Nh5

This is the aggressive scheme that Napolitano was playing for all along and

that I was deliberately inviting. Black could win a .ft. , but of course only pro tern.

10. 0-0 g5 Later on, this appeared in M.C.O. (9)

with an equals sign. That only means that the editor did not like to assert that either side had any advantage. Personally, I prefer White slightly.

1 1. Bc2 This A maneuver is vital. He becomes

"good." 1 1. Nf4 12. Ba4 Bd7 13. Ng3 cxd4

The "improvement." It releases the pressure and deprives White of the two As, but it undoubles the .ft.s.

14. Bxc6 bxc6 15. cxd4 Qf6 16. Be3 h5! 17. dxe5 dxe5 18. Rb1 Rd8

In his all-out attack on the �' Black seeks to gain time by sacrificing the a- .ft. . He has to, really. If 18 ... h4 19. Nj5 Bxj5 20. exf5, of course not 20 . . . �f5?Because of 21. Qj6.

19. Qc2 h4 20. Nf5 Bxf5 21. exf5 0-0! 22. Rfd1 Nh5

The white f-.ft. is an obstruction to Black's ¥!f. "Attack is the removal of obstructions." (Emanuel Lasker.)

23. Bxa7 Ng7 24. a4 Nxf5

- 285 --


White was now faced with a question Tarrasch discusses in one of his books, whether to let a ft come on to h6/h3 or to stop it in its tracks with h3/h6. Tarrasch says that letting it come on and then playing g3!g6is "better for the endgame." It is then that he makes his famous crack, "But the gods have put the middlegame before the endgame." And he therefore concludes with the wise general advice to bar the march by h3/h6. Looking at the game coldly and objectively now, I conclude that it bears out Tarrasch's counsel.

True, by defying it here White gets a passed ft rapidly to the seventh rank, and thus restricts Black's !:is. But a disruption of the castled position is in general not outweighed by a considerable asset gained on a far wing. Threats of mate start looming up, and it is no use being able to 'if1 a ft in answer to mate.

Over the board, I should recommend 25. h3 unhesitatingly, leaving White with a small but sure advantage. Such reasoning is also applicable to C.C., since a position of immense complexity cannot be analyzed right out, no matter if you spend days and days.

25. a5 26. a6

h3 Ra8

A compulsory retirement into obscurity. The trouble is, Black's "lff and .tJ will acquire vast nuisance value unaided.

27. Bc5 Rfe8 28. a7 e4!

And the rt;-!:! , now, is not entirely restricted to defense.

29. Rb7 Nh4 The effect of .. . h3 begins to be felt.

Black threatens .. . Nj3f. 30. Qb3 Qf5!

Here I analyzed and analyzed without being able to find a win for White. And indeed, many players would feel happy to escape from such rtf trouble with a draw. If 31. RhB, .. . Qg4 32. g3 e3!

31. Rdd7! In playing this I almost resigned my

self to a draw. And yet I realized that a player of Napolitano's style is usually optimistic, so I had good hopes of his going after a win.

31. . . . Nf3t!!? If 31 .. . Q:c5, one of the sheets of analy

sis that I kept shows 32. Rxfl Qs5 33. Rfd7! Qp1f 34. Rd1 Rxa7 35. c5f KhB 36. Rhd7!! QJ-3 37. Qj7 and wins.

However, after 31 .. . Q:c5 32. Rxflwhat I thought would draw was 32 .. . e3!, e.g., 33. @2 exj2t 34. Q:f2 Q:j2t, etc. In this, White can vary some by !:! checks first, but might only jeopardize the draw by so doing.

It was understandable that Napolitano should refrain from forcing the draw, as on all the positions as he knew them, it would give me the title. Probably right. With this game out of the way, I should almost certainly not have made my subsequent quasiclerical blunder against Mitchell.

32. gxf3 exf3 33. Kfl!

ThE miserly move 33. Be3 allows a draw by <3 .. . RadB 34. Qg1 Qg4f 35. Kf! Q:c4f, e•c. Each player was probably pleased to see his opponent refraining from forcing him to force a draw.

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His Games

33. . • . Qxc5 34. Qc3!

If 34. rJ!f3, ... rJ!c4f. Or if 34. Rxf7, ... Re2.

34. . . • Rf8 Black's .E!s are powerless, but only tem

porarily, and the drawing threats remain if White treads unwarily. If the it /£3 is captured, the one on h3 lives on.

35. Qd3! Renewing the threat of Rxf7!

35. • . . Qe5! Indirectly parrying the threat and start

ing new devilment. 36. Qxf3 Rae8!

In permitting 25... h3 I had slightly overrated the effect my passed it would have on Black's ,E!s. They have almost laughed it to scorn.

37. Rbl White himself has .E! trouble now.

37. • • . Qxh2 And the h- it even becomes a potential

¥!1. At this stage, I was covering sheet after sheet with scrappy but useful analysis. I was not sure White could win, but at least was sure I was finding the best move available each time.

38. Rb3 39. Qxh3

Qe5 Qf4!

Both 'it's are under attack. I now wrote out and analyzed 20 pos

sible 40th moves for White. At first I could not make a single one of them win. On the sheet of analysis, I have given No. 15 as 40. c5, with a query and the following sequel: 40 .. . Qs4t 41. Kg2 rJ!c5 42. Qg3 Qj5 43. RbB rJ!d7 44. rJ!g5f and White can have two ¥!1s but cannot win.

However, there was a very attractive feature about this quiet decoy move 40. c5. After capturing on his c5 (instead of c4), Black would be deprived of checks.

Also, it involved a beautiful variation, namely 40. c5 Qs7f 47. Kg2 Re7 apparently winning for Black or at least drawing, but in fact not, because of 42. Qj3! Rh7 43. Q3f7f!! trading in an old ¥11 for a brand new one.

And in this, if 42 ... Rg7 f 43. Kh2 g4 the same ¥11 sacrifice wins.

Cheered up by this, I looked again at 40. c5 Qs4f and now saw a curious win.

40. c5!! Qc4t 41. Kg2

� �·-�� t!�t� :%1��""-� � � -� � "" � "�� "� 'u '� �u � � � �r�� -� � And now if 47 .. . rJ!c5, the curious win

- 287 -


was 42. Q.h6. If 42 ... g4 (to stop Rh3), 43. Rg3 Re4 44. Q.h4 (and if then 44 ... Oj5, 45. RdB).

� .

41. Re4 42. Qf5 Qxb3 43. Qxe4 Kg7 44. Qf5 g4 45. Qxg4t Resigns

If ... Kh7, 46. Rd1 mates or gets ¥1!1 for

When such a wild game develops in cross-board play, even in grandmaster class, it is usually diverted from its logical course by inevitable miscalculations on both sides caused by clock trouble. Moreover, annotators cannot afterwards afford the time needed to discover just what the logical course was. Only the C.C. player has both the time to analyze deeply and the incentive to take that time.

Therefore it is possible to learn much by correspondence play. But it does take a lot of time that not all can afford.

{4 1 ) SA-NSW Telex Match (1956)

L. Endzelins-C. Purdy

English Opening

1. c4 e5 2. Nc3 Nc6 3. g3 f5

This is the Tacacs, which obeys the "Guide' rule of getting out two adjacent center fts two squares.

4. Bg2 5. d3

Nf6 Bb4

Apparently new here. Euwe's Theorie gives Capablanca-Bogoljubov, Nottingham 1936, which ran 5 ••• d6 6. Bd2 g6 7. RIJ 1 Bg7 8. b4 0-0 9. b5 with initiative for White.

6. Bd2 0-0 7. Nh3 a5

This ft is for impeding a White ¥�!!-side push by b4, which served Bogoljubov well against Capa (see previous note). Woinarski

always used to say that .. . a5 was "Purdy's favorite move." Perhaps 8. Nd5 was White's best now, virtually forcing exchange of .lls.

8. 0-0 h6! Black now plans to answer Nd5 with

the complicating move .. . Bc5, but for that he must first prevent the pin, which after Nd5 would be deadly

9. f4 10. Nd5 1 1. e3 12. Nf2 13. Rcl

d6 BeSt Be6 Qd7 Qfl

14. fxe5 Nxd5 If .. . dxe5, 15. Nxf6f Q3f6 16. Ne4.

15. cxd5 Bxd5 16. Ne4

Enables White to maintain almost equality, but his having to play for that shows his conduct of the opening was open to improvement somewhere.

16. Bb6 17. exd6 Qe6 18. Nc5 Bxc5 19. Rxc5 Bxg2 20. Kxg2 cxd6 21. Rb5 Qxa2 22. Rxb7 Ne5 23. Qb3t

White would have to lose a move some-how, to save his � from the fork.

23. Qxb3 24. Rxb3 a4 25. Rb6 Nxd3 26. Rxd6 Nxb2 27. Bc3 Nc4 28. Rd7 Nxe3t

In clock trouble-which is not fatal in these matches because the time lag in transmission allows you to calculate between moves-1 could not make up my mind whether this or the simple .. . Rf7, giving back the ft , gave the better winning chances. And now, with time to analyze, I still can't.

29. Kf3 Rfc8

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His Games

Of course not . . . Nxfl ?allowing a forced draw.

30. Kxe3? White, in more serious clock trouble,

wastes his .§-.il combine that he has gone to such trouble to get. He cannot afford 30. Rxg7f??, but the right play was 30. Rcl Ng4 31. Rxg7f Kj8 32. Rh7 and the question is, can Black win? In the actual game, Black could only calculate far enough to see that he could not lose in that line and had winning chances.

30. 31. Kd2 32. Rel

Rxc3t Rc5 Rc6

Black had to play too quickly to see 32 ... Kj8! If then 33. Reel, . . . Rd5f!, returning one ft for a "book" win.

33. Ree7 Rg6 34. Ra7

It is no use "fooling about," as . . . Rg4, etc., is coming anyway.

34. 35. Rxa7 36. Ra5 37. Ra7 38. Ke3 39. Kf3 40. Ke3 41. Kf3 42. Ke3

(Ra5 is futile.)

Rxa7 Rg4 g6 h5 h4 h3 Rb4 g5

42. . . . Rb3t 43. Kd4 Rxg3!

A touch of color. However, T.C. Gal-

lery, umpire in Sydney for South Australia, afterwards pointed out that it would have been all the better on Move 40! Black, however, only had a few seconds then. If White takes the .§ , . . . h2 and the next five moves on both sides are forced; then White must resign, his .§ + being useless.

44. Ke5 Rg2 45. Kf6 Rxh2

White can only play for "tricks," and Black can calmly ignore them. The best chance now is 46. Rxa4, giving Black a chance to go wrong with 46 . . . g4? (student to work out draw then) . But 46 . . . Rg2 wins.

46. Rg7t Kf8 47. Rxg5 a3 48. Rxf5 a2 49. White resigns

Interesting game. White never got clear of his opening disadvantage.

(42) Australian Championship (1956-57)

L. Endzelins-C. Purdy Sicilian Defense

1. e4 2. N£3 3. d4 4. Nxd4 5. c4 6. Be3 7. Nc3 8. Qxg4 9. Qdl

A well-worn path. 9. . . .

c5 g6 cxd4 Bg7 Nc6 Nf6 Ng4 Nxd4

e5

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But this was something rather new from Smyslov-Botvinnik, Alekhine Memorial Tourney, which I had just seen. Certainly more energetic than either 9 ... Nc6 or 9 ... Ne6 (Nimzovich).

10. Qd2 At least more aggressive than Smyslov' s

10. Bd3 (Smyslov got a bad game and drew it only because of inexact play by Botvinnik later on) ; it makes way for the Yfi-.§ , and thus turns Bxd4 into a threat.

10. • • • 0-0 And if 11. Bxd4, ... exd4 72. Nb5 Re8.

1 1. 0-0-0 Qa5 12. Kb1 f5 13. f3 fxe4 14. Nxe4 Qc7?

An example of how crazy a player can get when overanxious to avoid a draw. Black gives up a whole tempo to avoid an exchange of Yfjs which he ought to welcome with glee, since his own � is more vulnerable than White's, or certainly will be with the tempo lost. It is curious that the same player also gambled somewhat against Ozols, and there also it came off.

15. h4 d6 16. h5 Bf5 17. Bd3 a6

A bit slow, but in any case Black's game is difficult.

18. Bh6 Endzelins pointed out that 78. g4 was

the way to carry on the attack, and although there is counterplay (e.g., by 78 ... Bxe4 79.

Bxe4 Q,xc4), it ought not to prove adequate. 18. b5 19. Bxg7 Kxg7 20. hxg6 Bxg6 21. Qh6t Kg8 22. Ng5 Nf5!

By sacrificing the Exchange for a it , Black suddenly changes from defender to attacker.

23. Qh2 24. Ne6 25. Nxf8 26. Be4 27. Qg3

bxc4 Qfl Rxf8 Nd4

The natural and obvious move, and it should have drawn. Also good enough was 27. Rc7.

27. . . . c3! This combination at least draws, and

contains one very pretty variation. This is 28. bxc3 Rb8f 29. Ka 7 Qs4. Now the problemesque point is that White's .§ must defend c3 either at d3 or c l. If d3, he shuts off his A and allows the � to mate; if c l, he unguards d5, and this allows the � to sacrifice itself at b3 without White afterwards being able to win the Yf1 by Bd5f. So Black wins.

28. Bxg6 hxg6 29. Rde1??

Both sides were in clock trouble, and White misses the draw by 29. Rxd4 exd4 30. OJ:d6.

In his hurry, Endzelins probably took it for granted that Black's menacing its

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would suffice to ensure a win, and I think Pikler must have made the same assumption, else he would not have considered the game seriously for the brilliancy prize. In the actual game, I also made this assumption, but Black's own et; is too exposed.

29. . . . Rb8 White is helpless now, for if b3, ... Rxb3f.

30. Qt2 Qf5t 31. Re4 Rxb2t 32. Qxb2 cxb2 33. Kxb2 d5 34. Re3 Qc2t 35. Ka1 Qd2 36. Rxe5 Nc2t 37. White resigns

(43) N.S.W. Championship (1963)

C. Purdy-M. Fuller Sicilian Defense

1. e4 c5 2. Nf3 Nc6 3. d4 cxd4 4. Nxd4 e6

The Taimanov, now usually answered by simple development, 5. Nc3. Then the system move is 5 . . . Qs7, which has the immediate purpose of stopping e5 (after Nxc6) before playing .. . Nf6. It all looks "artificial," but nobody knows enough about chess to condemn moves on appearances. Tarrasch's standards of"correctness" have taken many knocks. The Meran, for example, is highly artificial, yet is still in vogue after 40 years of intensive trial.

5. Nb5 Formerly regarded as the automatic

answer, and the reason why the line now called the Taimanov was rarely seen in classical times. It just appeared as a footnote, "Not 4 . . . e6because of, etc."

5. . . . d6 Virtually forced. Of course not 5 ... d5??

6. exd5 exd5 7. �d5! "offering" the ¥11. 6. B£4 e5 7. Be3 N£6

Better than 7. . . a6 8. N5c3 Nf6, as White can then transpose into the game (by 9. Na3) but need not. The text position was formerly thought bad for Black without analysis because of the backward .ft , but since the NajdorfVariant came in, that idea has been laughed out.

8. N1c3 a6 9. Na3 Be6

I myself thought this an improvement on the "book" 9 ... b5, which was thus continued in a Fischer game (Fischer White) : 10. Nd5 Nxd5 (forced) 11. exd5 Ne7 12. c4 Nf5 13. Bd2 Be7 14. cxb5 0-0. It is hard to see that Black has more than bare compensation for his .ft at best.

10. Nc4 b5 11. Nb6 Rb8 12. Nbd5 Ng4

Very complicating. Simplest was 72. . . Bxd5, as White could not recapture with the 4:) (Bb6 being no longer "on"). Black evidently didn't like to concede "the two Bishops."

13. Bd2 £4 The "logical sequel," but logical sequals

sometimes only prove the original idea wrong.

14. ex£5 Bx£5 15. Bd3!

- 2 9 1 -


Simple but effective. Now if 15 ... Bxd3, 16. cxd3 Nf6 1Z Bg5 Be7 18. Nxf6t Bxf6 19. Q!t5f and Black must forfeit castling (in a position where it is serious) or lose a ft by 19 ... g6 20. Qj3 Bxg5 21. Q!,c6t. In this, if 16 ... Qj7, 7Z Ne4 (threat Q!,g4!!) Be7 18. h3 Nj6 19. Nexf6f Bxf6 20. Q!t5f, and again Black must forfeit castling or lose a ft (20 .. . Qj7 21. Nc7f).

Again, on Move 16, . . . Q,h4!? 7Z Ne4! (threat f!3g4!) Be7 18. Nxe7 Nxe7 19. Nxd6f or 19. Bg5, etc.

15. Be6 16. Be4 Nd4 17. 0-0 b4

Better 7Z .. Be7 18.J4! Nf6(not . . . 0-0 19. j5) 19. Nxf6t Bxf6 20. Nd5 0-0 21. Nxf6t Rxf6, but White gets a decisive-looking advantage by 22. Bc3 Nc6 23. Q,d3! (two As and an attack).

18. Ne2 Nf5 19. Nef4!

Must strike quickly or there is nothing. 19. exf4 20. Qxg4 Nd4 21. Qdl

Sometimes a crushing move! 21. Bxd5 22. Bxd5 Qg5 23. Bc4 d5

When desperate, Fuller usually flings fts away-an excellent idea.

24. Bxa6 Be7 25. c3! Nf5 26. g3 Ne3?

But flinging pieces away is usually not so good. They are useful for "swindles." Fuller usually shows excellent judgment in lost games-one of the hallmarks of every master.

27. fxe3 28. QfJ 29. Kh1 30. Qf7t 31. Rf5 32. Rxd5t 33. Rd4 34. Rf1!

and White won.

(44)

fxg3 gxh2t Rb6 Kd8 Qh4 Kc7 Qf6

NSW Championship (1964) C. Purdy-M. Fuller

Chigorin Defense

In anthropology, it is not true. But in chess it is true, that White is superior to Black. I have often quoted statistics which prove that in master chess White scores approximately 54 to Black's 46, in an average 100 games. The percentage of draws varies according to the standard, but the 54 to 46 remains practically constant.

If the standard is such that about three games in every ten are drawn, it means that White wins almost 4 to 3. If only about one in ten is drawn, the wins are more like 5 to 4. It boils down to this, that if two experts are dead equal, and bets are off if the game is drawn, you will make money, in the long run, if you lay 6 to 5 on White. If you think chess is a game of equal chances, you're just a square.

I know that many players, like many nonplayers, are impervious to simple logic, and also to simple arithmetic. It is useless to argue with them. If for some explicable or inexplicable reason they dislike a fact, they will not accept it. But the fact remains a fact.

It is particularly when an opponent is

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His Games

ahead of you in the score that the white pieces are balm to the spirit. This was my case against Max Fuller in the 1964 New South Wales Championship. He informed me that he had spent the whole afternoon preparing against me with the assistance of Crowl. I replied, of course, that this could not fail to produce results harmful if not fatal to his chances. But my real consolation was that no matter how hard he had prepared, he still had to play Black. In chess, at any rate, gentlemen prefer blondes.

Let us see if the game illustrates all this. It was about Round 5, Fuller half a

point ahead. 1. d4 d5 2. c4 Nc6

So this is what the conspirators had plotted!

3. Nf3 Pachman believes that 3. Nc3 may be

better. The text gives rein to the characteristic Chigorin move, . . . Bg4. Chigorin's name is much linked with early exchanges of A for �.

3. . . . Bg4 4. Nc3

Knowing very little of the opening, I selected a move which l-and therefore, I hoped, my opponent-had never seen, but which obviously could not be bad. This is a great thing about playing White-that a simple developing move is always adequate.

4. . . . Bxf3 Pursuing the Chigorin theme-capture

while a ft must recapture. White must either accept a position where he cannot castle safely or accept a weak d- ft . White does not hesitate, but plays the developing move, and the one that offers safe castling.

5. exf3 e6 6. cxd5 exd5 7. Bb5 Nge7

At first glance I was not rapturous about my position, as I visualized a battery trained

on my weak d- ft , forcing pieces to defend it. Then I began to see the effect of the time factor. Were it Black's move now, what a delightful game he would have! e.g., 7. .. g6 8. 0-0 Bg7 9. Bg5 0-0. We shall see what a vast difference the move makes.

Fuller suggested 7. .. g6 at once, but this doesn't save him, e.g., 8. 0-0 Bg7 9. Re1f Nge7 10. Bxc6 bxc6 11. OJ2! and we have a routine type of attack against an uncastleable w. If Black accepts the d- ft , we have 11 ... Bxd4 12. Bh6 followed by Rad1 with a winning attack.

8. 0-0 9. Bg5

10. Qd2

g6 Qd6 Bg7

11 . Bxe7! Very simple strategy; make Black's W

move. 1 1. . . . Kxe7 12. Bxc6

Before checking, White makes Black choose how to capture. If with ft , check will force Black to f8, blocking his 1"!. , as ... Kd7 would invite Na4-c5f.

White has sacrificed two As for two �s in return for either an exposed black W or retarded Black development.

12. . . . Qxc6 13. Rfe1t Kd7

To free his l"!,s, but the move behind always beats him, so . . . Kf8 was the lesser evil.

14. Qf4 15. Racl

f5 Rae8

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17ze Search for Chess Perfection

16. Ne4 Qb6 17. NeSt Kc8

Black has succeeded in freeing his �s and withdrawing his �, but now a new Gorgon rears its head.

18. Ne6 Rxe6 Or 18 ... Re7 19. Nxc7 Rxe1f 20. Rxe1,

and if .. . O!c7, Rc1. 19. Rxe6 c6 20. Reel Qxd4

Come what might, . . . Bxd4 gave the only chance, yet not a good chance.

21. Qd6 Rd8 22. Re8 Bf6 23. g3 Qxb2 24. Rxd8t Bxd8 25. Re8 Qb6 26. Qe6t Kc7 27. Qt7t Kc8 28. Qxh7 c5 29. Rg8 c4 30. Rxg6 Qblt 31. Kg2 c3

White had to calculate carefully. 32. Rg8 d4 33. Qe7 Qb6 34. Qe5 a6 35. Qxf5t Kb8 36. Qd5?

Badly pressed for time, White missed the obvious kill.

36. Kc8 37. Qf5t Kc7 38. h4 Qc6 39. Qe5t Qd6

Also pressed for time, Black indulges his passed fts in delusions of grandeur, but there was no defense anyway.

40. Qxd6t Kxd6 41. Rxd8t Kc5 42. Kf1

and won. It must be admitted that White's ad

vantage of the move persistently made itself felt against Black's otherwise excellent strat-

egy. Any early faltering by White would have given Black a terrific game. Black just had to be stopped from getting going. And he could be stopped.

(45) NSW Championship (1964)

B. Berger-C. Purdy Ruy Lopez

The 1964 New South Wales Championship produced this interesting clash between the then ( 1963-66) and past (1960-63) Champions ofF.I.D.E. Zone 10-SouthEast Asia and Pacific. It provides an interesting illustration of the distinction between strategy and tactics.

1. e4 2. Nf3 3. Bb5 4. Ba4 5. c3 6. 0-0

e5 Nc6 a6 d6 Bd7

Strategy is the choosing of aims. You can also speak of "a strategy," meaning the kind of position aimed at in a particular case. The move c3 usually indicates the aim of building an aggressive ft center by d4. But it can be part of the quieter Steinitz system of attack ( fts on e4, d3, c3) which aims at holding the center and slowly maneuvering pieces to the best advantage.

By avoiding 6. d4, White keeps the option of either strategy. Sounds good. But it isn't. The more aggressive 6. d4 is the only way White can hope for an edge against the Steinitz Deferred (see Barden's book, The Ruy Lopez).

6. . . . Nge7! Reserving options is always good, pro

vided you don't lose more options than you reserve, or concede a valuable option to your opponent. Having consulted Barden just before the game, I knew that after 6. d4 the text defense is dubious, but only be-

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His Games

cause of either of the sharp lines Z Be3 (and if Z .. Ng6, 8. h4) or Z Bb3 (and if Z .. Ng6, 8. Ng5 winning). But now White has deprived himself of both these options, since h4 would now be absurd, and Z Bb3 is meaningless, as Z .. Ng6 cannot be answered with Ng5.

Thus, Black has been granted the valuable option of a very solid defense. The strategy of .. .Nge7is the build-up ... Ng6with .. .Nf4 in view, or in some lines ... Bg5 (from e 7) in response to a <£) maneuver to e3 by White.

Strategy is inseparable from tactics. Black knows his strategy is right only because of the tactical points mentioned. The simplest definition of tactics in chess is "Calculation of moves and replies." All good players must be good tactically. All masters must be good both tactically and strategically. Someone who is good strategically and not tactically may understand the play of masters up to a point, but cannot possibly play well himself.

7. d3 The Steinitz setup loses some punch if

Black can freely play .. .j5. Here we have Steinitz Attack against Steinitz Defense!

7. Ng6 8. Re1 Be7 9. Nbd2 0-0

10. Nfl f5 The Ruy Lopez is worthless to White

unless played with great precision. Then perhaps it is the best of all. Here, Black has at least equality. If now 11. Ne3, .. .fxe4 12. dxe4 Kh8 and Black has a solid basis for �-side play. White loses a little material if he plays 11. @3f Kh8 12. Q;tb7, but I hardly think Berger bothered to work that out-he would just know it could not be good, from the "look" of the position. Is that strategy or tactics? Well, tactics; only a weaker player would probably carry the move-by-move calculation further and, of course, lose clock time.

11. exf5 Bxf5

This way, White at any rate gets his <£) to d5 before Black gets his to f4. But White's Steinitz setup goes, showing that his whole idea was faulty. Again, probably neither player wasted time thinking about 12. @3f and 13. Q;tb7?, but it is a useful exercise (in tactics) for students to prove it bad.

12. Ne3 Bd7 Once again Black can offer his b- .ft .

Why? 13. Nd5 Kh8

Earlier the pin ... Bg4 could have been met by @3 but now it threatens, leaving White a difficult choice. In practical play, the question of how big or how small a theoretical advantage one side has is not important. If one side's moves are easy and the other's hard, that is important. To have an easy game means to have a clearly good aim or strategy (Black's is based on the f4-square, mainly) and no difficult tactical problems to solve in achieving it.

14. Nxe7 Ncxe7 Easy choice, as it brings a second <£)

nearer the key square. 15. Ng5

With a threat, White transfers the <£) from its weak post (weak because on the f-file) . This is strategy-defensive strategy, though it starts with the fierce threat of Q!t5.

15. . . . Bxa4 16. Qxa4

The sacrifice @5 fails. 16. . . . Qc8

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17. Be3 h6 18. Ne4 Nd5

The pressure mounts. The immediate threat is . . . Qg4 pinning.

19. Ng3 Ndf4 20. Bxf4 exf4

An interesting instance of a clash between strategy and tactics. In chess, as distinct from war, a plan is only something to follow if nothing better turns up. Positionally-or strategically-obviously it would be decidedly better to have a 4J or � on f4 than a ft . But because of the tactical point that the threat of .. .fxg3 forces a 4J move, Black has the opportunity to break up White's castled position, and this is better than a mere superior placement of pieces.

21. Nfl f3 It is not easy to see why 22. g3 won't

work now, yet any expert would think, "It just can't be playable." However obscure the knockout, it must be there. Not 22 .. . Q,h3 23. Ne3 (and if .. . h5, 24. Kh1}, but 22 ... Nf4! (threatening .. . Nh3f, and if 23. gxf4, ... Qg4f! 24. Ng3 Q,h3 and mate). If 23. Ne3, simply .. . Nxd3 wins a ft and keeps the attack.

White selects possibly the least evil, as it brings about a game of ¥!1s and four �s, traditionally drawish.

22. Qe4 23. Qxg6 24. Rxf1 25. Qe4

fxg2 gxfl=Qt Rf6 Re6!

An important decision in strategy. Shall Black try to attack the '3;? Very speculative.

But the '31 can't run away. He is exposed and will stay exposed. On the other hand, there is one fully open file, and if Black can get control of it, this advantage with the exposed '31 thrown in means a certain win.

26. Qg4 If White stays on the long diagonal,

Black pursues his strategy, using as tactics the offer of the b- ft , e.g., 26. Qj3 Qs8! 2Z Q:cb7 (if Kh1 as in the game, then quietly ... c6 now the file is secure) Rb8 28. Q:ca6 Rg6f 29. Kh 1 Qj7! 3 0. j3 (not Qs6? d5) Rxb2 with a crushing attack. Or in this, 28. Q:cc7 Rxb2 and wins, as 29. Rab 1 leads to mate (two checks, then .. . Rxb1).

26. Qe8 27. Kh1 Qc6t! 28. f3

If 28. Qg2, ... Re2 and the ending is a win. Also 28... Q,xg2 first might win, but it seems better not to lose the tempo.

28. Rae8 29. Rf2 Qd5 30. d4 R8e7

Black now had to play fast, but reckoned he had a winning position and only had to hold it.

31. b3 b5 32. Rg1 Re3 33. Qf4

If 33. Rc1, swap [Ed.: i.e., 33 . . . Re1f 34. Rxe1 Rxe1f 35. Kg2} and . . . Rc1.

33. . . . Qfl Wins a ft . 34. Qxfl 35. Rcl 36. Rxf3 37. c4 38. c5

Rxfl Rfxf3 Rxf3 b4

Oversight. Could be hard after 38. Re1 Rj2 39. Re7. Best 39 ... c6! to get White off the seventh, e.g., 40. Rc7 Rxa2 41. Rxc6 a5! 42. Rb6 (forced, else ... a4 wins with second rank absolute, see Nimzovich's My System} Kg8 43. c5 dxc5 44. dxc5 Kj7 45. c6 Ke7 and

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His Games

wins easily. 38 . • . . Rc3

and Black won. White loses a second ft and has no

counterplay.

(46) Ararat (1964)

M. Fuller-C. Purdy Sicilian Defense

1. e4 c5 2. Nf3 d6 3. d4 cxd4 4. Nxd4 Nf6 5. Nc3 a6

The Najdorf, favorite of Fischer. 6. Bc4 e6 7. Bb3 Be7 8. f4! 0-0 9. 0-0 Nbd7

10. Qf3 I was more worried about 10. j5. Origi

nally my intention was 10 .. . Nc5, but probably I'd have played 10 .. . e5 11. Nde2 (or -j3) Nc5, and if 12. Bd5, .. . Nxd5 13. OJ,d5 Bd7 for .. . Bc6. Here Black emerges satisfactorily.

10. . . . Nc5

11. Be3 Here again if 7 7. j5, ... e5 probably. But

it was best. 11. . . . Qc7 12. Rae1 b5 13. e5

Too late now, e.g., 13.j5 b4 14. Nb1 (or

somewhere) e5 15. Ne2 Nfxe4 16. Bd5 BbZ White has missed the bus and is in a typical Sicilian mess.

13. . . . Bb7 14. exd6

Best was 14. exf6, getting three pieces for ¥11 and ft . White's minor pieces would be much impeded by Black's fts, but it would be terribly difficult for Black to win.

14. Bxd6 15. Qh3 Nxb3 16. axb3 Bb4

Fuller thought 16 ... b4 simpler and bet-ter. Right.

17. f5 e5 18. Nde2 Bc5 19. Ncl Bxe3t 20. Qxe3 Rfe8

Better than . . . b4. The passed ft is a valuable asset.

21. Nd3 Rac8 22. b4

An alarming move; threatens Nc5. 22. . . . a5! 23. Re2

Not Nxb5? Qs6. If 23. bxa5, I had not decided whether to play 23 ... OJ,a5 or 23 .. . b4 or 23 ... e4, and as Fuller was short of time I was fairly sure he would be equally uncertain. White's game was very hard under time pressure.

23. 24. Nxb4 25. Nd3 26. Nf4 27. Na4 28. b3

Good ft to win. 29. Nb6 30. Qg3 31. Kh1 32. Qxg4 33. Nd5

axb4 Qc4 e4 b4 Qb5 Qxf5

Ng4 Qc5t Qxb6 Ba6

Curious incident here. Black picked up his ¥11 in mistake for the �

' to capture the

- 297 -


� . Fuller just looked up from his score sheet in time to see this and claimed Black must move his VJ1 (no hardship as it happens, Black still wins) . However, Director Harkin pointed out that Black had first picked up the � . Therefore Fuller's only claim could be that Black must take the � , the first piece touched. Therefore,

33. • . . Bxe2 34. (txe2 (te6?

Oversight in time trouble. However, not too serious.

35. Nxb4 36. h3 37. Nd3 38. Rf4 39. Rf3 40. Rf1

e3 (te4 Rc6 (te6 Ra6 Rc6

41. White resigns. A well-judged resignation. With

White's VJ1 so tied, the win is not really difficult, and White would only tire himself out to no purpose. To play on against someone floundering to beat his clock is one thing; to play against someone fortified with adjournment analysis and stacks of time is quite another.

(47) Australian Championship Playoff

(1965) C. Purdy-0. Hamilton

King's Indian Defense

1. d4 Nf6 2. c4 g6 3. Nc3 Bg7 4. e4 d6 5. f3

The Samisch (pronounced Zaimish). Just about the favorite nowadays.

5. . . • 0-0 6. Be3 Nc6

This is probably best. 7. (td2 ReS

But this is outside the scheme. The § is better at f8, supporting .. .j5 in answer to d5. Correct is Z .. e5. If 8. Nge2, .. .Nd7 clears the decks for .. .j5 (in answer to d5).

8. Nge2 e5 9. d5 Ne7

10. Bh6! The purpose of playing this so early is

to block . . . h5 as an answer to g4. White can afford it because Black is unable to play .. .j5 as yet.

10. . • • Bh8 Imprecise, as White would not play

Bxg7 yet. Better 70. . . c6 at once. In that event, more exact than 77. g4 would be 17. 0-0-0, which would also be good in the actual game.

1 1. g4 c6 12. Ng3 cxd5

Plausible is 72 .. . b5 73. dxc6 bxc4 74. Bxc4 Nxc6, but the trouble is 75. g5! Nh5 76. Nxh5 gxh5 7Z Nd5!with the terrible threat of Nf6fopening the g-file. Or if 75 ... Nd7, 76. Qf-5 winning a piece. Better on Move 13 the ft sacrifice, 73 ... Nxc6 74. Nxb5 Nd4 75. Nxd4 exd4, but it is none too bright.

13. cxd5 a6 14. 0-0-0 b5

15. Bd3 In the Samisch, it usually pays to defer

the development of this .Q. and rush ahead with the ft storm. Here 75. h4!, etc., would have won without allowing serious counterplay.

15. . . . (ta5

- 298 -

His Games

16. Kb1 17. h4 18. Nce2

Rb8 b4 Nfxd5!

This counter-sacrifice (impossible if White had omitted Bd3) gives Black a real fight. Defensive play would be merely a slow kind of resignation. In games of opposite castling, if one pawnstorm is far ahead, that side must win in the normal course.

19. exd5 Nxd5 20. Ne4 Be6 21. b3 Nc3t

The best chance. 22. N2xc3 bxc3 23. Qxc3 Qa4!

Threatening .. . Bxb3. 24. Bc2 d5 25. Nc5

White does not yet find the win, but is given the same position again on Move 27.

25. Qc6 26. Ne4

26. . . . Qa4 Black for once makes a tactical miscal

culation. He thought 2Z Ka1 would be bad for White. Black should have tried 26 .. . @6, when White's task is much harder. In criticizing a game, the main thing is that one move is better than another, and the possible sequel is of secondary interest. But advanced players may be interested in the following lines after 26... @6, especially those who were present on the night. Best is 2Z Ng3! e4 28. Qj2, and now Black's best try is 28 . . . Bxg4!threatening ... Qj6. Now 29. Be3

Qj6 30. Bd4: (a) ... Q:f3 31. Bxh8 Kxh8 32. Rhg1 Qj6

(if . .. e3, Qd4fand Rdf1 wins) 33. Rdfl Qe6(if . . . Qe5, Nxe4; or if 33 ... e3, 34. Q:e3!!) 34. Qj4f Kg8 (if . . . Qe5, swap and Nxe4) 35. Rf6 Qe5 36. Q:e5 Rxe5 3Z Nxe4 with a piece for two is; difficult win.

(b) If 30 .. . Qxd4, 31. Qxd4Bxd4 32.fxg4 Be5 33. Ne2 Rhd8 34. Nd4, again a piece for two is with a difficult win.

27. Ka1! This is what White ought to have played

when he had the position earlier, but putting Yf1 and 4J in a skewer goes against anyone's conscience. Hamilton had calculated on its being bad, but actually it wins.

27. . . . Qb5 If 2Z .. Qg3, 28. Qs5. If 2Z .. Qd7, prob

ably best is 28. Bg5. 28. Nd6 Qd7 29. Nxe8 Qxe8

At Move 26, Black had overlooked that Nxe8 enabled White to meet ... e4 with Nf6f.

30. Kb1 The white '31 thought al was all right

for a holiday, but he wouldn't like to live there.

30. . . . e4 31. Qe3 Bxg4!

The same sacrifice as in the note to Move 26. But now it is more easily answered.

32. Rxd5 Bxf3 33. Rh2 Qe6 34. Rhd2 Qf6 35. Qd4 Qxd4

White threatened mate. White's maneuver is based on the good old adage, destroy counter-chances. Small material advantage and safe '31 is better than large material advantage and the '31 with nitroglycerine in his shoes.

36. R5xd4 37. Rxd4

Bxd4 ReS

- 299 -


38. Be3 Re7 39. Rd6 Be2 40. Kcl f5 41. Kd2 Bfl 42. Ke1 Bd3 43. Bxd3 exd3 44. Kd2 Re4 45. Rd4 Re5 46. Kxd3 Resigns.

(48) Australian Championship

(Brisbane 1967) C. Purdy-M. Woodhams

King's Indian Defense

A single open file is a drawish thing, God wot. The 14 fts keep the game closed except for the open file; the four �s tend to come off, then usually the ¥tts also, and any attempt to win the probably balanced minor-piece ending is likely to be risky. It may happen that even a marked plus in development fails to overcome the inherent drawishness.

The commonest example is the Exchange Variant of the French Defense, 1. e4 e6 2. d4 d5 3. exd5 exd5. So inherently drawish is this opening that at the age of 16 and playing in my first tournament, the New South Wales Championship of 1923, I succeeded in drawing in 70 moves with the holder A.E.N. Wallace, who invariably played the Exchange Variation against the French.

Morphy did the same, and usually won because his opponents neglected development. Of late, Larsen has found a way of twisting into a winnish game for White, and Alekhine even did this with Black, often castling ¥!1-side.

A player trying to win such a game often does best to try to turn it into a game of 12 fts instead of 14, to remove the deadening influence of the single open file. To

bring about a second ft exchange without compromising one's position can be difficult.

A single-open-file game that became very exciting was mine with Michael Woodhams in the 1967 Australian Championship in Brisbane.

1. d4 2. c4 3. Nc3 4. e4 5. Be2 6. Bg5 7. d5

Nf6 g6 Bg7 d6 0-0 c5 Qa5

Tempting where White has played Be2, since 8. Bd3 would involve moving this piece twice. White's actual reply also involves moving a ii twice, but the tempo will be regained some time, as Black's ¥11 cannot remain permanently under a masked threat. Perhaps . . . e6 is better.

8. Bd2 e6 9. Nf3

I did not then know that in Round 6 of the tournament Fuller had played against Woodhams 9. f4. But after 9 •.. exd5 Fuller could not safely play 10. cxd5, so his game got out of tune. I decided to rely on quick development, hoping to win in spite of the drawish effect of the single open file.

9. • • • exd5 10. exd5 a6

See note to Move 23. 11. 0-0 Bg4

Black gives up the light squares to get important dark ones.

12. h3 13. Bxf3 14. Be2

Bxf3 Nbd7 Ne8!

Else f4 with the possibility of f5, traditional 'it;>-side winner. Now Black can meet f4with .. .f5.

- 300 -

His Games

15. Qc2 Not yet having read my own remarks

at the top of this game, especially the fourth paragraph, I go here for simple development, neglecting a magnificent opportunity for twisting the game out of its drawish tendency, quite safely because of the black YIJ's voluntary exile. Thus, 15. f4 j5 16. g4! This threatens either to open the g-file or to play g5 and later break open the h-file with h4-h5. If 16 ... fxg4, White has the choice of Bxg4 or hxg4. Either is good, but hxg4 would have the merit of again threatening g5. It is hard to imagine how Black could defend himself.

15. . . . f5 16. Rfe1 Qe8

Here Woodhams makes the mysterious remark, "Black now has full equality." How come? Apart from the small asset of the .Q. pair, White is at least 2.5 tempi ahead in development. More reasonable would be a claim that it is difficult for White to exploit his plus in development. But even this would be wrong, as White can still afford the attacking maneuver f4 and g4, even though Black has .. . Q!z4 available now. If 17./4!, ... Q!z4!? 18. Kh2 for g3.

17. Qcl This would make more appeal had

White not moved his ¥11 already. The idea is that f4 is going to obstruct the ¥11-.Q., so get him to gS first. Quite good, but the forthright 17. f4! was better.

17. . . . Ne5

Woodhams queries this for a wrong reason. It is wrong because it gives White the chance to play f4 with gain of tempo so that he could still follow with g4 attackingly. Woodhams gives 17. . . Nc7 18. Bg5 Nf6. But then Black renounces eS and White keeps the edge with the two ..Q.s. In this, if 18 ... Bf6, 19. h4.

18. Bh6 It is not a law of chess that Bd2 and Qs 7

must be followed up with Bh6. It may be done simply to hold the dark squares. In any case, in chess opportunism comes before planning. So 18. f4! But at least 18. Bg5 was preferable to Bh6. If 18 ... Bf6, 19. Bh6 Bg7 and now exchange �s with gain of tempo. And then still f4 and g4.

18. Nc7 19. Bxg7 Kxg7 20. f4 Nd7 21. Qd2 Qf6 22. Rad1 h6

Now it is Black who tries to twist the game out of its drawish character. Unjustifiably, since he is behind in development. After 22 ... Rfe8, as Woodhams says, there is no reason why Black should lose. His 4:'1/ c7 is poorly placed, but the game is drawish. Having got into clock trouble in some games, White's main concern in this game had been to keep out of it. So he played it cool, neglecting earlier opportunities to attack. Now White should be penalized by being held to a draw, but he is saved by his opponent's optimism.

23. a4 At last Black has extorted this move,

justifying his ... a6, which, however, there was little point in playing as early as Move 10.

23. g5 24. Bfl gxf4 25. Ne2! Ne5

The routine riposte is .. .f3, but then 26. Nf4 threatens a fork. If 26 .. . Qg5, 27. Re6! Or

- 30 1 -


if 26 ... Kh7, 2Z Ne6! 26. Nxf4 Qg5 27. Qt2 Kh7

The open-file strategem won't work, 2Z .. Rae8 28. Re3 with threats.

28. Rxe5! dxe5 The Exchange can be sacrificed more

lightheartedly than is generally supposed. I did not spend much clock time on this, because (a) it was the only chance to win, and (b) I felt at least fairly sure of not losing. The Exchange is overrated. If the sacrificer gets a ft and can keep one !! tied a long time, he is compensated.

29. Qxc5 Rac8 30. d6

�·� a � � �- · · �* ��'' %'"'��%'"' W#��%"�'� � '-'fY} " " .&. '-U.i "� '£� - '� "� •:�:-�,� - �'�� .§ � ,, ��

30. • . . Qxf4? Black underrates the attack and is

tempted by the idea of united fts. The only chance was .. . exf4. Woodhams gives 30 .. . exf4 31. d7 Rcd8 32. Q!c7 f3 "and . . . Rg8with winning chances." The analysis is right, but for "winning" read "drawing." Thus, 33. Q!b7 fxg2 34. Bxg2 RgB 35. Kh7 and now there are about three lines to consider:

(a) 35 .. . Oj3 36. Qj5 with the double threat of Q.xj5t or c5 (for c6);

(b) 35 .. . Rg7 36. b4! Kh8(if .. . Oj3, again Qj5) 3Z b5 axb5 38. cxb5 Oj3 39. Qf3! and wins;

(c) 35 ... a5 36. b4 axb4 3Z a5 and if ... Oj3, again Qj5.

It may be possible to find a draw for Black, but certainly not a win if White is wary.

In Variation (b), the !! sacrifice 36 .. . Rxd7, or 37. .. Rxd7, does not force a perpetual, though it takes some working out.

31. d7 Rcd8 32. Qxc7 Qe3t 33. Khl f4 34. Qxb7 e4 35. Qd5 f3 36. c5 Rg8 37. Qf5t Kh8 38. Qf6t Kh7 39. Qe7t

White goes to the trouble of calculating that Black's virtually forced sacrifice is now unsound. Foolproof was g4.

39. Rg7 40. Qxd8 fxg2t 41. Bxg2 Rxg2 42. Qh8t Kxh8 43. d8=Qt Kh7 44. Qd7t Kg6 45. Rd6t Kh5 46. Qt7t Kh4 47. Kxg2 Qg5t 48. Kf1 Kxh3 49. Qe6t Resigns.

(49) Australian Championship

(Brisbane 1967) C. Purdy-D. Hamilton

Game of a Lifetime

This was the most astonishing finish in Purdy Senior's long career, and probably that of Hamilton's then short one, even though the astonishment was for Hamilton mixed with grievous disappointment. Still, he saw the funny side, and congratulated his opponent with genuine enthusiasm.

The first diagram shows the position in C. Purdy-Hamilton after the second adjournment.

- 302 -

His Games

After 68. Rgd4

At first sight, it seems that Black should win on sheer material. This was why I spent the whole of my first Thursday morning (free day) analyzing 68 .. . Kc7 69. Rd7f Kc8 70. Rd4. I came to the conclusion that because of Black's bad 'l), White had a draw in all variations, and covered several sheets of paper with them.

Hamilton came to the same conclusion, and correctly gave up his it +. He had sealed his 68th.

68. Bg5 69. Rg4 Bd8 70. Rd4 Bb6!

This worried me, as I simply had not had time to analyze it. � will draw against � and 4) with level its all on one wing, but this is different. Easy draw if Black's passed it were a rank further back. As it is, it's a runner.

71. Rxh4 Kb5 72. Rf4

The only hope. 72. • • • a4 73. h4 Nc2

tion; (b) the ending � -and-4) versus 'lf is at best very tedious; and (c) most important, Black saw an obvious way he could get a whole ¥11, and White not. The game looked a push-over. It might have needed an Averbakh to see the fallacy in (c) .

74. h5 a3 75. Rf1 a2 76. h6 Bd4 77. h7 Na3

Too late now for . . . a 1=(6 but the text move seems to force White to resign, so what the hell.

78. Rdl

78. • • . Bh8 Some other square would be better,

but it wouldn't matter! We return to this point later.

79. Kf7 Nbl Looks a killer. "Very slow resigner, this

Purdy," some onlookers thought. 80. Kg8

First shock. If 80 ... a 1=(6 81. Rxb1t forces a book draw.

80. . . . Bb2 81. Rd8!

Just the same if White's 'll were only at There was a simpler procedure, 73... f7.

a3 74. h5 a2 75. Rf1 Bd4 76. h6 a1=Q 7Z Rxa1 Bxa 1 78. h7, and now, provided Black makes the right tour with his 4), he can retain both pieces and stop White queen-

81. . . . al=Q Nothing else to be done now.

82. Rb8t Kc6 83. Rxb2! Qa8t

ing. Three considerations, luckily for Purdy,

deterred Hamilton: (a) it took some calcula-

Taking the .§. would be useless even with the white 'll still on f7, Kg8 would follow, with book draw.

- 303 -


86. Rg2!! White cannot afford to keep his !':'! .

Nor can Black usefully avoid taking it. 86. • • • Qxg2t 87. Kh8 Drawn

Black is a ¥11 and 4J up, but his r3} is one square too far away and so is his 4J. Black must allow either stalemate or promotion.

Now return to the second diagram. Instead of 78 .. . Bh8, try 78 .. . Bb2. Then 79. Kj7 Nh 7 80. Rd8 and the same old joke is on, as Ra8 is one threat. Or if 78 ... Bc3, 79. Rc7 Nh8 80. Kj7 a 7=Q_87. Rxc3 Q3c3 82. Kg8 and still draws.

So the tempo lost by 78 .. . Bh8 did not matter.

(SO) Sydney International Tournament (1979)

C.j.S. Purdy-1. Rogers Hennig-Schara Gambit

Notes by Michael Woodhams.

This delightful little game was Purdy's last major tournament game. His opponent, Ian Rogers, only needed a draw to secure his second IM norm (and equal first place in the tournament with English GM Ray Keene). Cecil, at 73 years of age, declines an offer of a draw. Always a sportsman and a great Australian, Cecil believed that titles

are earned the hard way. 1. d4 d5 2. c4 e6 3. Nc3 c5 4. cxd5 cxd4

One of Rogers' favorites, and an aggressive way to go for a full or half point. Cecil, however, was never upset by gambits, and in his true classical style lets the gambit run its course.

5. Qxd4 6. Qd1 7. Qxd5 8. Nf3 9. Qd1

10. e3 1 1. Be2 12. Bd2

Nc6 exd5 Bd7 Nf6 Bc5 Qe7 0-0-0

Given a !? (deserving attention) in Encyclopedia D-Cecil had obviously done his homework.

12. g5 13. 0-0 Kb8 14. Rcl g4 15. Nd4 Qe5

If 75 .. . Nxd4, 76. exd4Bxd4 7Z BJ4t Be5 78. Q,d4Bxf4 79. Q3J4fKa820. Rfe7 Rhe827. Bf! and White retains a small plus.

16. Ncb5 Ne4 17. Qc2 Nxd2?

Instead 7Z .. Rhe8 protects the ¥11 and contains a veiled threat against the white .\lle2 (Rogers) . Not 7Z .. a6 78. Bc3!

18. Qxd2 a6 19. Qc3! Nxd4

- 304 -

His Games

20. exd4! If 20. Nxd4 (threat Nc6f), ... Bd6 21. g3

h5! and Black has a big attack on the �side. After the text, it is White who gets the attack.

20 . . . . 21. Qg3t 22. Nc7t 23. dxc5

Qxe2 Ka8 Ka7 ReS

Probably designed to keep White's ¥11 out of c7 as much as to harass the 4). 23 . .. Q7b2 wou1d be too risky, e.g., 24. Rh1 Q7a2 25. Ra 1 Q§2 (Black must guard against White's Qg3) 26. Nxa6!; or 24. Rh1 Q§2 25. Nxa6! (Rfc1 Qg4) Rhe8 26. Nb4 Qg4 2Z Rh3 wins or 26 ... Q7c5 2Z Qg3f Kb8 28. Na6f;or 24. Rb1 Q§2 25. Nxa6 Q§4 26. Q§7! Q7a6 2Z Rb3! wins. However 23 .. . Bc6 1ooks more logical-if 24. Qg3, .. . Qs5!; or 24. Rc4 Rd3! 25. Oj4 Rhd8threatening . . . Rd1; or 24. Rfe1 Q.d3 25. Q7d3 Rxd3 26. Re7 Rhd8and . . . R3d2.

24. Nd5 Bb5 25. a4! Bc6

And Black now offered a draw. If 25 ... Bxa4?, 26. Nb6; or 25 . . . Rxc5?,

26. Nc3! 26. Rfel 27. Ne7 28. Nxc6t 29. Qxg4 30. h3 31. Qf5 32. Qxh7 33. Qd3

34. Qd6?

Qxb2 Rce8 bxc6 Qb7 Qc7 Rhg8 Qf4 Qc7

34. Oj5! would have left Black paralyzed. With his � exposed and two fts down, the game would be over. By swapping ¥/!is, Black has a ray of hope-his passed c- ft .

34 . . . . 35. cxd6 36. Rxel 37. d7 38. Re7?

Qxd6 Rxelt Kb6 Rd8

38. Rd1! followed by h4 looks more logical (l='!s belong behind passed fts) and White wins easily, e.g., 38 .. . c5 39. h4 c4 40. h5 Ka5 (40 .. . c3 41. Rc1) 41. h6Kxa4 42. h7 c3 43. g4 c2 44. Rc1 Kb3 45.f4and White easily wins the race. Once fts are established on d7 and h7, Black's ):'! is immobilized.

38. • . . c5 39. Kfl?

White is still winning, but when an ending develops into a ft race, you can't afford to play two plans at once (� to ¥/1-side and pushing the h- ft ) . 39. h4! still wins.

39. . . . Ka5 40. h4 c4

Apart from pushing the h- ft , White could also win by getting his ):'! behind the d- ft , e.g., 41. Re4 Kb4 42. Rd4 Kc3 43. Rd6 Kb2 44. h5 c3 45. h6 c2 46. Rh6f Ka 1 4Z Rc6 Rxd7 48. Rxc2 Rd6 49. Rc7 and wins. White could also have sealed (and thus won easily), but sportingly played on to allow Rogers to catch a plane.

41. Ke2? Kxa4 42. Kd2?

White can no longer win-the last chance was 42. h5 Kb3 43. h6 c3 44. Re8 Rxd7 45. h7 c2 46. Rc8 Rd8 4Z Rxd8 and wins.

42. . . . Kb3 43. Kcl a5 44. h5

An easy draw was to be had by 44. Re5! a4 45. Rh5t Kc3 46. RbZ

44. . • . a4

- 305 -

45. h6 a3 46. Kbl??


47. Kal 0-1.

(sealed)

And now a draw is gone too. 47. Re5! a2 48. Ra5 Rxd7 49. h7 RdB 50. Ra7 RhB 51. Rh7t Kc3 52. Ra7 Rxh7 53. Ra3t Kd4 54. Rxa2 and the game should be drawn.

Cecil's last ten moves were obviously affected by tiredness, but one cannot but admire the clarity and logic of his play up to the first time control.

46. • • • c3

COLOPHON

Typeset in various fonts such as Berthhold Baskerville, Doughboy, Goudy Sans, Huxley, and our C.R Horowitz, 10/12. Copy entry and editing: Pat Scoville Cover: Rob Long Layout: Bob Long Proofreading: Ralph Tykodi & Bob Long

- 306 -

Back of the Book

.. 27 . 45

. . . 12 (2ID

. . . . . . . . . . 43, 44, 46 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ®

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1

Hamilton, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 47, 49 Hanks,] . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 , 39 Harris, A . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 Hastings, G . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 Klass, H . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 24 Koshnitsky, G . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 Lamparter, G . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 Mills, B . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 22 Napolitano, M . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . � Rogers, I . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50 Sarapu, 0 . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33, 34, 35, 36, 37 Steiner, L . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10, 16, 32 Tartakover, S . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20 Wade, R . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 26 Walsh, V . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 38 Watson, C . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17 Woodhams, M . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48 Zile, R . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30

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Index of Openings Numbers refer to game numbers. The game section begins on page 22 1 .

Benoni Defense . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15 Caro-Kann Defense . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 23 Chigorin Defense . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 44 Bird's Opening . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 Dutch Defense . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 31 English Opening . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6, 19, 24, 29, 4 1 Evans Gambit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25 French Defense . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 17, 26, 37 Hennig-Schara Gambit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50 King's Gambit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 28 King's Indian Defense . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 30, 38-39, 47-48 Nimzo-Indian Defense . . . . . . . . . . . . 7, 1 1 , 20-22, 27, 40 Polish Opening . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2 Queen's Gambit . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3, 5, 9, 32 Reti's Opening . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 Ruy Lopez . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1, 12- 13, 18, 33, 35-36, 45 Sicilian Defense . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10, 14, 16, 34, 42-43, 46

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Back of the Book

Index of Article§ Aids To Seeing Combinations . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 189 Amazing Lesson On The Center, An . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 152 Bronstein Wins With "The Isolated d-Pawn" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 203 Combination Versus Planning . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 158 Common Rook Endings . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 72 Compensation For A Pawn . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 85 Dual Soul Of Chess, The . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 195 Every Move Is Partly Weakening! . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 180 Exchanging . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29 General Endgame Strategy . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 55 Guiding Rule For Endgames, A . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 201 How To Advance In Chess . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 205 How To Avoid Traps . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 19 How To Improve At Chess . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 1 How To Reduce Oversights To A Minimum . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 198 How To Think In Chess . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 7 4 Lopez Subtleties And Steamrollers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 19 Method Of Thinking In Chess, A . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 5 Minor Pieces For A Rook . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 08 More About Pawn Centers . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 155 More On Those Two Bishops . . . . . . .. . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 102 Notes On Planning In Chess . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 83 On Castle Wails . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 15 Play For Position After The Opening, The . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 65 Play With The Pieces . . .. . . . . . . . . . . .. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6 1 Rook Against Two Minor Pieces . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 05 Snare Of The Odd Pawn, The . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 5 1 Snare Of The Swop, The . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . 53 Stenitz-Lasker "Law" Exploded, The . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 163 That Isolated d-Pawn . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 1 Those Two Bishops . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 100 To Take Or Not To Take . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 18 Transition From The Opening To Middlegame . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 88 True Elements Of Chess, The . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 126 Weak Pawns And Weak Squares . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1 12 What Is A Combination? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 169 What Is Position Play? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 137 When Attack Is The Best Defense/When Counterattack is Wrong . . . . . . . . . . 91 , 98 Why A Pawn Center? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 130

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John Hammond, one of Australia's wealthiest men, was

a close friend of CJ.S. Purdy. After Purdy's death he and IM Robert

Jamieson put together the "best" of Purdy's writings from his

various chess magazines and published them as a book in a quantity of 10,000-

all of which sold (better than most chess best sellers) ! Purdy had a knack for writing about chess which

few could equal. In his quirky language he would always get to the "core" of the issue,

no matter how complicated. After reading a Purdy essay on Rook and pawn

· endgames you feel an immediate sense of reliefl Chess isn't easy to play and consistently

win, but Purdy will show you those finesses, tricks,

kn

subtleties, and ideas which will add significantly to your winning armory. When Cecil Purdy shows how to find

combinations, and how to avoid blunders, and then self-effacingly admit he hasn't always taken his own advice, you know

you have a real honest people's advocate! When he won the first world's correspondence chess championship in 1951 against

the best in the world, it was no fluke. It was the result of a "system," a s� • � of checks

and balances which are n (Y') t used in ms. "The illy explore tt just theory, ies of chess {ou will be en

cour ..... 0 _ _ _ _ _ _ .. rritings live on collection

5 2 2 0 0 (and othe1 this magnificent ideas, his games championship

unabashed writings; quality.

play), ar all gem

The Search for Chess Perfection

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