Sept 2011 FIDE Rating List

Alexander Morozevich – the biggest climber on the new rating list

The top 100 list:

Name Nat Elo
1 Carlsen, Magnus NOR 2823
2 Anand, Viswanathan IND 2817
3 Aronian, Levon ARM 2807
4 Kramnik, Vladimir RUS 2791
5 Karjakin, Sergey RUS 2772
6 Topalov, Veselin BUL 2768
7 Ivanchuk, Vassily UKR 2765
8 Ponomariov, Ruslan UKR 2758
9 Grischuk, Alexander RUS 2757
10 Kamsky, Gata USA 2756
11 Gashimov, Vugar AZE 2756
12 Nakamura, Hikaru USA 2753
13 Radjabov, Teimour AZE 2752
14 Mamedyarov, Shakhriyar AZE 2746
15 Gelfand, Boris ISR 2746
16 Svidler, Peter RUS 2740
17 Morozevich, Alexander RUS 2737
18 Adams, Michael ENG 2733
19 Wang, Hao CHN 2733
20 Leko, Peter HUN 2728
21 Vitiugov, Nikita RUS 2726
22 Moiseenko, Alexander UKR 2726
23 Giri, Anish NED 2722
24 Nepomniachtchi, Ian RUS 2718
25 Le, Quang Liem VIE 2717
26 Wang, Yue CHN 2716
27 Jakovenko, Dmitry RUS 2716
28 Vallejo Pons, Francisco ESP 2716
29 Vachier-Lagrave, Maxime FRA 2715
30 Movsesian, Sergei ARM 2715
31 Shirov, Alexei ESP 2713
32 Caruana, Fabiano ITA 2712
33 Jobava, Baadur GEO 2712
34 Dreev, Aleksey RUS 2711
35 Li, Chao b CHN 2710
36 Tomashevsky, Evgeny RUS 2710
37 Almasi, Zoltan HUN 2710
38 Dominguez Perez, Leinier CUB 2710
39 Malakhov, Vladimir RUS 2710
40 Naiditsch, Arkadij GER 2707
41 Berkes, Ferenc HUN 2706
42 Navara, David CZE 2705
43 Bacrot, Etienne FRA 2705
44 Andreikin, Dmitry RUS 2705
45 Wojtaszek, Radoslaw POL 2704
46 Efimenko, Zahar UKR 2703
47 Laznicka, Viktor CZE 2701
48 Polgar, Judit HUN 2701
49 Short, Nigel D ENG 2698
50 Zhigalko, Sergei BLR 2696
51 Fressinet, Laurent FRA 2696
52 Inarkiev, Ernesto RUS 2692
53 Sutovsky, Emil ISR 2690
54 Motylev, Alexander RUS 2690
55 Van Wely, Loek NED 2689
56 Sasikiran, Krishnan IND 2689
57 Riazantsev, Alexander RUS 2688
58 Nielsen, Peter Heine DEN 2687
59 Volokitin, Andrei UKR 2686
60 Eljanov, Pavel UKR 2683
61 Grachev, Boris RUS 2682
62 Bruzon Batista, Lazaro CUB 2682
63 Rublevsky, Sergei RUS 2681
64 Akopian, Vladimir ARM 2681
65 Smirin, Ilia ISR 2678
66 Kasimdzhanov, Rustam UZB 2678
67 Gharamian, Tigran FRA 2676
68 Kobalia, Mikhail RUS 2674
69 Sokolov, Ivan NED 2673
70 Harikrishna, P. IND 2672
71 Areshchenko, Alexander UKR 2672
72 Potkin, Vladimir RUS 2671
73 Korobov, Anton UKR 2671
74 McShane, Luke J ENG 2671
75 Ni, Hua CHN 2670
76 Onischuk, Alexander USA 2669
77 Feller, Sebastien FRA 2668
78 Roiz, Michael ISR 2668
79 Bu, Xiangzhi CHN 2666
80 Kryvoruchko, Yuriy UKR 2666
81 Zvjaginsev, Vadim RUS 2666
82 Georgiev, Kiril BUL 2664
83 Timofeev, Artyom RUS 2664
84 Balogh, Csaba HUN 2662
85 Alekseev, Evgeny RUS 2662
86 Mamedov, Rauf AZE 2660
87 Ding, Liren CHN 2659
88 Sargissian, Gabriel ARM 2658
89 Bologan, Viktor MDA 2656
90 So, Wesley PHI 2655
91 Lupulescu, Constantin ROU 2655
92 Ragger, Markus AUT 2655
93 Seirawan, Yasser USA 2652
94 Fridman, Daniel GER 2652
95 Milov, Vadim SUI 2651
96 Istratescu, Andrei FRA 2650
97 Cheparinov, Ivan BUL 2650
98 Petrosian, Tigran L. ARM 2649
99 Kurnosov, Igor RUS 2648
100 Meier, Georg GER 2648
101 Azarov, Sergei BLR 2648

The top 100 women:

Name Nat Elo
1 Polgar, Judit HUN 2701
2 Koneru, Humpy IND 2600
3 Hou, Yifan CHN 2578
4 Kosintseva, Nadezhda RUS 2560
5 Lahno, Kateryna UKR 2554
6 Muzychuk, Anna SLO 2545
7 Kosintseva, Tatiana RUS 2536
8 Ju, Wenjun CHN 2536
9 Stefanova, Antoaneta BUL 2528
10 Dzagnidze, Nana GEO 2525
11 Cmilyte, Viktorija LTU 2525
12 Danielian, Elina ARM 2517
13 Sebag, Marie FRA 2512
14 Zatonskih, Anna USA 2508
15 Harika, Dronavalli IND 2505
16 Chiburdanidze, Maia GEO 2500
17 Gunina, Valentina RUS 2499
18 Galliamova, Alisa RUS 2498
19 Zhao, Xue CHN 2497
20 Khotenashvili, Bela GEO 2497
21 Socko, Monika POL 2490
22 Zhu, Chen QAT 2490
23 Cramling, Pia SWE 2489
24 Atalik, Ekaterina TUR 2481
25 Ruan, Lufei CHN 2477
26 Mkrtchian, Lilit ARM 2475
27 Krush, Irina USA 2472
28 Xu, Yuhua CHN 2472
29 Dembo, Yelena GRE 2471
30 Skripchenko, Almira FRA 2470
31 Kosteniuk, Alexandra RUS 2469
32 Munguntuul, Batkhuyag MGL 2465
33 Javakhishvili, Lela GEO 2464
34 Ushenina, Anna UKR 2462
35 Paehtz, Elisabeth GER 2461
36 Arakhamia-Grant, Ketevan SCO 2456
37 Muzychuk, Mariya UKR 2456
38 Shen, Yang CHN 2448
39 Pogonina, Natalija RUS 2446
40 Hoang, Thanh Trang HUN 2446
41 Gaponenko, Inna UKR 2445
42 Zaiatz, Elena RUS 2441
43 Rajlich, Iweta POL 2440
44 Khurtsidze, Nino GEO 2440
45 Matnadze, Ana GEO 2433
46 Moser, Eva AUT 2432
47 Tan, Zhongyi CHN 2429
48 Houska, Jovanka ENG 2427
49 Khukhashvili, Sopiko GEO 2426
50 Vasilevich, Tatjana UKR 2423
51 Repkova, Eva SVK 2423
52 Huang, Qian CHN 2421
53 Kovalevskaya, Ekaterina RUS 2421
54 Peptan, Corina-Isabela ROU 2421
55 Tania, Sachdev IND 2419
56 Li, Ruofan SIN 2419
57 Bodnaruk, Anastasia RUS 2417
58 Cori T., Deysi PER 2416
59 Foisor, Cristina-Adela ROU 2416
60 Zhukova, Natalia UKR 2416
61 Vijayalakshmi, Subbaraman IND 2415
62 Batsiashvili, Nino GEO 2413
63 Paikidze, Nazi GEO 2412
64 Turova, Irina RUS 2410
65 Romanko, Marina RUS 2409
66 Ovod, Evgenija RUS 2408
67 Madl, Ildiko HUN 2399
68 Wang, Pin CHN 2397
69 Melia, Salome GEO 2396
70 Michna, Marta GER 2396
71 Vasilevich, Irina RUS 2393
72 Alexandrova, Olga ESP 2392
73 Girya, Olga RUS 2390
74 Zdebskaja, Natalia UKR 2389
75 Galojan, Lilit ARM 2389
76 Zhang, Xiaowen CHN 2387
77 Majdan-Gajewska, Joanna POL 2386
78 Kashlinskaya, Alina RUS 2385
79 Tsereteli, Tamar GEO 2383
80 Shadrina, Tatiana RUS 2378
81 Fierro Baquero, Martha L. ECU 2378
82 Bojkovic, Natasa SRB 2378
83 Zozulia, Anna BEL 2377
84 Peng, Zhaoqin NED 2377
85 Matveeva, Svetlana RUS 2377
86 Gara, Ticia HUN 2375
87 Kononenko, Tatiana UKR 2375
88 Milliet, Sophie FRA 2374
89 Kovanova, Baira RUS 2369
90 L’Ami, Alina ROU 2368
91 Guo, Qi CHN 2367
92 Vajda, Szidonia HUN 2367
93 Lomineishvili, Maia GEO 2366
94 Pham, Le Thao Nguyen VIE 2362
95 Wang, Yu A. CHN 2360
96 Stockova, Zuzana SVK 2360
97 Gaprindashvili, Nona GEO 2360
98 Guramishvili, Sopiko GEO 2359
99 Rudolf, Anna HUN 2359
100 Pokorna, Regina SVK 2359

The top 20 juniors:

Name Nat Elo Born
1 Giri, Anish NED 2722 1994
2 Le, Quang Liem VIE 2717 1991
3 Caruana, Fabiano ITA 2712 1992
4 Feller, Sebastien FRA 2668 1991
5 Ding, Liren CHN 2659 1992
6 So, Wesley PHI 2655 1993
7 Yu, Yangyi CHN 2646 1994
8 Negi, Parimarjan IND 2631 1993
9 Matlakov, Maxim RUS 2630 1991
10 Sjugirov, Sanan RUS 2627 1993
11 Safarli, Eltaj AZE 2627 1992
12 Hess, Robert L USA 2625 1991
13 Salgado Lopez, Ivan ESP 2614 1991
14 Kovalyov, Anton ARG 2612 1992
15 Ipatov, Alexander ESP 2591 1993
16 Swiercz, Dariusz POL 2585 1994
17 Robson, Ray USA 2583 1994
18 Zherebukh, Yaroslav UKR 2580 1993
19 Hou, Yifan CHN 2578 1994
20 Hovhannisyan, Robert ARM 2578 1991

În sfârşit, campion mondial de juniori

Repetatele confruntări internaţionale din ultimii doi ani, confruntări ce au culminat cu Olimpiada de la Varna, au influenţat evident pozitiv jocul meu în turnee. Începusem acum să joc mai bine poziţional, nu mă mai grăbeam ca înainte în situaţii complicate (motiv din care ratam de multe ori poziţii bune), jucam mai sigur şi mai calculat, într-un cuvânt începeam să capăt experienţă competiţională. Peste câteva luni, în toamna lui 1963, trebuia să încerc pentru a doua oară să devin campion mondial de juniori. Ştiam că va fi foarte greu, dar doream atât de mult acest titlu care îmi scăpase printre degete cu doi ani în urmă, în Olanda! Îmi amintesc că m-am pregătit extraordinar pentru „concursul vieţii mele”, cum îl numeam atunci! Începusem pregătirea teoretică de multe săptămâni, revăzusem sute şi sute de partide ale viitorilor mei adversari, găsisem câteva noutăţi teoretice, studiasem zeci şi zeci de finaluri unde ştiam că mai sunt încă slab. Am avut ocazia să încerc o parte din aceste scheme şi planuri de joc, participând la Bucureşti la un turneu internaţional, destul de puternic, câştigat de marele maestru sovietic Holmov. (Eu m-am clasat pe locurile 3-4, la egalitate cu D. Drimer.) Nu am jucat rău, însă pierzând la Holmov, ratasem câştigarea turneului. „Proba de foc” a pregătirii mele, pe care o consideram perfectă, a constituit-o meciul susţinut de echipa noastră naţională contra Ungariei, în acea vară la Bucureşti. Oaspeţii deplasau o echipă foarte puternică, în frunte cu L. Portisch, încă de pe atunci reputat mare maestru, în prezent unul din candidaţii la titlul mondial. Iar eu urma să-l înfrunt tocmai pe Portisch. Pentru echipa noastră meciul era foarte dificil prin prisma rezultatelor anterioare: nu-i învinsesem încă niciodată pe unguri! Îmi amintesc perfect ziua a doua a meciului, când Aula Bibliotecii Centrale Universitare – aceeaşi sală în care cunoscusem primul meu mare succes – devenise neîncăpătoare, iar aplauzele nu se mai terminau. România învinsese Ungaria cu 13-11, iar Portisch ceda şi cea de a doua partidă în faţa matului imparabil. Învinsesem! Pentru mine, cele două victorii au reprezentat un puternic tonic înaintea campionatului mondial de juniori. „Proba de foc” fusese trecută cu succes.
După acest meci, antrenorul meu de atunci, maestrul V. Urseanu, a declarat că mă consideră excelent pregătit şi că în mod normal nu pot pierde titlul suprem al juniorilor. În mod normal… De câte ori auzeam aceste cuvinte, îmi aminteam nopţile nedormite de la Haga şi antrenamentele reîncepeau, tocmai pentru ca totul să ajungă să se desfăşoare normal! Ultima fază a acestei pregătiri minuţioase a reprezentat-o o tabără la Snagov, în cadrul căreia am reuşit să aprind pasiunea pentru şah în aproape toţi componenţii echipei de lupte a ţării noastre, cărora le plăcea să asiste la antrenamentele noastre. Îmi amintesc că odată, în glumă, am vrut să fac o „repriză” cu Martinescu… Am renunţat însă repede, diferenţa de categorie era mult prea mare! Odată sosiţi în Iugoslavia, am aflat că toată lumea – pe baza ultimelor mele rezultate – mă considera mare favorit şi acest lucru îmi îngreuna şi mai mult sarcina! Primele partide din serii au vădit buna pregătire a sovieticului Zaharov, cehoslovacului Janata şi iugoslavilor Kurajiţa şi Bojkovici, probabil cei mai periculoşi adversari pentru finala turneului. Nici eu nu am jucat însă prea rău primele întâlniri (4 jumate din 5 posibile), astfel că anu am avut emoţii cu calificarea. În finală, surprinzător, în primele runde am făcut două remize, cu singaporezul Tan şi polonezul Adamski. În runda a doua îl învinsesem, însă, în primul derby al concursului pe Zaharov. În acest timp, un start foarte bun a avut Janata, care a condus în primele patru runde. Din această cauză, întâlnirea directă dintre noi, programată în runda a şasea, a suscitat un interes deosebit, însă din punct de vedere tehnic ea s-a situat sub aşteptări. Janata a fost depăşit de importanţa partidei, a jucat destul de slab şi la mutarea a 32-a s-a recunoscut învins. În seara aceea, antrenorul meu şi-a permis să bea (singur!) un pahar în cinstea viitorului campion mondial, dar, după cum se va vedea, a fost puţin grăbit. După ce în runda a şaptea l-am învins şi pe Kurajiţa, marea speranţă a gazdelor pentru acel campionat, se părea că nimic nu mai stă în calea mea spre titlu! Şi totuşi, nemaiputând să-l înving în finală pe englezul Lee, am realizat „numai” 7 jumate puncte din 9 posibile, un procentaj extraordinar pentru o finală de campionat mondial. Dar Janata, beneficiind de o neobişnuită şansă de concurs, obţinea exact acelaşi procentaj, câştigând poziţii net pierdute la Adamski şi Zaharov! Câte nădejdi păreau că se năruiseră din nou în ultima noapte, când analizam întrerupta cu norvegianul Zweig, în care am găsit de-abia la 4 dimineaţa o cale de studiu de câştig! Se repeta oare istoria de la Haga? Realizasem în acest campionat mondial 12 puncte din 14 (10 victorii şi 4 remize), fusesem singurul jucător neînvins şi nu era de ajuns! Pentru prima oară, urma să se dispute un meci pentru titlul de campion mondial şi tot pentru prima oară următorii clasaţi erau devansaţi cu trei puncte (Kurajiţa, clasat pe locul 3 cu 4 jumate puncte, urma să devină peste doi ani următorul campion al juniorilor). După câteva săptămâni a urmat în aceeaşi localitate iugoslavă, Vrnjacka Banja, meciul pentru titlu. După o luptă înverşunată, cele patru partide ale meciului s-au încheiat remiză, dar pentru că îl învinsesem pe adversarul meu în finală şi aveam un coeficient Sonneborn net superior am devenit campion mondial. În acea seară, am trăit momente de neuitat. Pentru prima oară, un şahist român primea un titlu suprem, pentru prima oară răsuna imnul şi se ridica tricolorul românesc pe cel mai înalt catarg în întreceri şahiste de asemenea amploare.
Nu mi-e ruşine să spun că în noaptea aceea de noiembrie a lui 1963 am plâns de bucurie! Titlul pentru care luptasem atât şi care fugise de mine la Haga era acum al meu şi al României! Câteva ore mai târziu, la hotel, în timp ce maestrul Urseanu închina o cupă de şampanie, eu încă mai stăteam cu cununa de lauri pe umeri şi-l întrebam neîncrezător: „Am câştigat, maestre? Nu visez?”. Nu, nu visam! La întoarcerea în ţară, în semn de deosebită preţuire, am primit titlul de maestru emerit al sportului, cel mai înalt titlu la care poate aspira un sportiv al ţării noastre.

Gheorghiu,Florin – Honfi,Karoly

1.d4 Nf6 2.c4 g6 3.Nc3 d5 4.Nf3 Bg7 5.e3 0–0 6.b4 b6 7.Bb2 Bb7 8.Be2 e6 9.0–0 Nc6 10.a3 Ne4 11.Rc1 Ne7 12.cxd5 Nxc3 13.Bxc3 exd5 14.Qb3 Kh8 15.Rc2 a6 16.Rfc1 f6 17.Bb2 c6 18.a4 b5 19.Ne1 Qd6 20.Nd3 Rae8 21.Qc3 Rf7 22.Ra1 Qb8 23.Bg4 Bc8 24.Bxc8 Rxc8 25.Nc5 Qb6 26.axb5 axb5 27.Ra6 Qb8 28.Qb3 Nf5 29.Qa2 Nd6 30.Rc1 Nc4 31.Ra1 Bf8 32.Bc3 Qd6 33.Ra8 Rcc7 34.Re8 Rce7 35.Qa8 Kg8 36.Rd8 Qc7 37.Rc8 Qb6 38.Ra6 Ra7 39.Rxf8+ Rxf8 40.Qxa7 Qd8 41.Ne6 1–0

Sajtar,Jaroslav – Gheorghiu,Florin

1.c4 Nf6 2.Nc3 g6 3.e4 d6 4.g3 Bg7 5.Bg2 c5 6.Nge2 Nc6 7.d3 Bd7 8.h3 Qc8 9.Be3 0–0 10.Qd2 Re8 11.g4 Rb8 12.Ng3 Nd4 13.0–0 h5 14.f3 a6 15.Rab1 b5 16.b3 b4 17.Nce2 Nxe2+ 18.Nxe2 e5 19.Ng3 a5 20.Bg5 hxg4 21.fxg4 Nh7 22.Bh6 Qd8 23.Be3 a4 24.Bf3 axb3 25.axb3 Qh4 26.Kg2 Ra8 27.Ne2 Ra3 28.Qe1 Qxe1 29.Rfxe1 Bf6 30.Bc1 Ra2 31.Kg3 Ng5 32.Bb2 Kg7 33.Nc1 Ra7 34.Ra1 Rxa1 35.Bxa1 Rh8 36.Rh1 Ne6 37.h4 Nf4 38.g5 Be7 39.Ne2 Nxe2+ 40.Bxe2 Bxg5 41.Bb2 Bf4+ 42.Kg2 f5 43.Bf3 Ra8 44.Ra1 Rxa1 45.Bxa1 Bc1 46.h5 f4 47.hxg6 Kxg6 48.Kf1 Kg5 49.Ke2 Bg4 0–1

Interviu cu maestrul Pavlov si maestrul Suba

Mat cu Nebunii

1. Ne3 Re4 2. Ne2 Re5 3. Ng2

Libertatea Regelui Negru este tot mai limitata. Rf5
4. Rf3 Re5 5. Rg4 Rf6 6. Nd4+ Re6 7. Ne4

Rd6 8. Rf5

Rd7 9. Nc5 Rc7 10. Re6 Rb8 11. Nb6 (11. Rd7 Pat!) 11… Rc8 12. Rd6 Rb8 13. Rc6 Rc8
14. Nf5+ Rb8 15. Nc5 Ra8 16. Rb6 Rb8 17. Nd6+ Ra8 18. Ne4#

1-0

Cum să dai mat cu Tura ?

1. Th4

Această mutare are ca scop restricţionează libertatea regelui Negru dincolo de linia roşie de demarcaţie. Rf5 2. Re3 Regele Alb intră în joc, cooperând cu Tura, în manevra lor spre mat. Re5 (2… Rg5 3. Tf4 Rg6 4. Re4 Rg5 5. Re5 Rg6 6. Tf5 Rg7 7.
Tf6 Rg8 8. Rf5 Rg7 9. Rg5 Rg8 10. Rg6 Rh8 11. Tf8#) 3. Th5+ Re6 4. Re4 Rd6 5.
Te5 Rc6 6. Td5 Rb6 7. Rd4 Rc6 8. Rc4 Rb6 9. Tc5 Ra6 10. Tb5 Ra7 11. Rc5 Ra6 12.
Rc6 Ra7 13. Ta5+ Rb8 14. Ta6 (O mutare de aşteptare )Rc8 15. Ta8# 1-0

The Match of the Century

preluat din Endgame, de Frank Brady

October 1956
Scattering fallen leaves as he rushed down the tree-lined street, thirteen-year-old Bobby vaulted up the red-carpeted stairs of the Marshall Chess Club two steps at a time and entered the Great Hall. It was not his first visit. Indeed, he’d already begun making frequent visits to the Marshall, New York’s other major chess club, where he enjoyed a heady feeling of being where he belonged, of possibly writing his own page into chess history. The club—which was located on Tenth Street, between Fifth and Sixth avenues, one of Manhattan’s most attractive neighborhoods—had been quartered in this venerable brownstone (built in 1832) since 1931, when a group of wealthy patrons, including one of the Roosevelts, bought the building so that their beloved Frank J. Marshall, the reigning U.S. Champion, who would hold the title for twenty-seven years, would always have a place to live with his family and to play, teach, and conduct tournaments. Walking down the street with its rows of stately brownstones festooned with window boxes of flowers, and a private boarding stable on the same block, Bobby could have easily felt he was transported back to the Gas Light or Silk Stocking era of the nineteenth century.

Most of the world’s most renowned masters had visited the club—it was steeped in the echoes of legendary games, epic battles, hard-fought victories, and heartfelt defeats. Indeed, its only peer in the United States was the Manhattan Chess Club, forty-nine blocks to the north. In team matches, the Manhattan usually, but not always, came out on top. Looking somewhat like a British officers’ club, the Marshall was wood-paneled, with plush burgundy velvet curtains, several fireplaces, and oak tables fitted with brass lamps.

It was at this club that Cuba’s brilliant José Raúl Capablanca gave his last exhibition, where World Champion Alexander Alekhine visited and played speed chess, where many of the most gifted international grandmasters gave, and continue to give, theoretical lectures. Artist Marcel Duchamp lived directly across the street and was an active member of the club, and became a great fan of Bobby’s. The Nobel Prize winner Sinclair Lewis took lessons there. If a motion picture location scout were searching for an idealized chess club, the Marshall might be his pick. Certainly, there was a sense of decorum that permeated the club, even when it came to dress. Bobby’s habitual mufti of T-shirt, wrinkled pants, and sneakers was considered an outrage by Caroline Marshall, Frank Marshall’s widow and the long-standing manager of the club, and on several occasions she informed him of his sartorial indiscretion, once even threatening to bar him from the premises if he didn’t dress more appropriately. Bobby ignored her. He was at the Marshall that night in October to play in the seventh round of an invitational tournament, the Rosenwald Memorial, named for its sponsor, Lessing J. Rosenwald, the former chairman of Sears Roebuck who was an important art collector and chess patron.

The invitation came as a result of Bobby’s having won the U.S. Junior Championship three months earlier, and the Rosenwald was the first important invitational and adult all-masters tournament of his career. The other eleven players were considered some of the finest and highest rated in the United States, and the club members were excited by the event. Bobby’s opponent that night was the urbane college professor Donald Byrne, an international master, former U.S. Open Champion, and a fiercely aggressive player. Dark-haired, elegant in speech and dress, the twenty-five-year-old Byrne invariably held a cigarette United States was the Manhattan Chess Club, forty-nine blocks to the north. In team matches, the Manhattan usually, but not always, came out on top. Looking somewhat like a British officers’ club, the Marshall was wood-paneled, with plush burgundy velvet curtains, several fireplaces, and oak tables fitted with brass lamps. It was at this club that Cuba’s brilliant José Raúl Capablanca gave his last exhibition, where World Champion Alexander Alekhine visited and played speed chess, where many of the most gifted international grandmasters gave, and continue to give, theoretical lectures. Artist Marcel Duchamp lived directly across the street and was an active member of the club, and became a great fan of Bobby’s. The Nobel Prize winner Sinclair Lewis took lessons there. If a motion picture location scout were searching for an idealized chess club, the Marshall might be his pick. Certainly, there was a sense of decorum that permeated the club, even when it came to dress. Bobby’s habitual mufti of T-shirt, wrinkled pants, and sneakers was considered an outrage by Caroline Marshall, Frank Marshall’s widow and the long-standing manager of the club, and on several occasions she informed him of his sartorial indiscretion, once even threatening to bar him from the premises if he didn’t dress more appropriately. Bobby ignored her. He was at the Marshall that night in October to play in the seventh round of an invitational tournament, the Rosenwald Memorial, named for its sponsor, Lessing J. Rosenwald, the former chairman of Sears Roebuck who was an important art collector and chess patron. The invitation came as a result of Bobby’s having won the U.S. Junior Championship three months earlier, and the Rosenwald was the first important invitational and adult all-masters tournament of his career. The other eleven players were considered some of the finest and highest rated in the United States, and the club members were excited by the event. Bobby’s opponent that night was the urbane college professor Donald Byrne, an international master, former U.S. Open Champion, and a fiercely aggressive player. Dark-haired, elegant in speech and dress, the twenty-five-year-old Byrne invariably held a cigarette between two fingers, his hand high in the air, his elbow resting on the table, in a pose that gave him an aristocratic demeanor. Regina accompanied Bobby to the club, but as soon as he began to play she left to browse at the nearby Strand Bookstore, whose shelves contained millions of used books. She knew it would probably be hours before Bobby’s game would be over and she’d have to return. To that point Bobby hadn’t won a game in the tournament, but he’d drawn three, and he seemed to be getting stronger each round, learning from the other masters as he played. In chess tournaments, contestants are not only assigned opponents, they’re also given, for each round, a color: black or white. Where possible, the tournament director alternates the colors, so that a player will play with the white pieces in one game and with the black in the next. Since white always moves first, having that color can provide a player with a distinct advantage in that he can make immediate headway on a preferred strategy. Alas, against Byrne, Bobby was assigned the black pieces. Having studied Byrne’s past games in chess books and magazines, Bobby knew something of his opponent’s style and the strategies he frequently used. So Bobby decided to use an atypical approach—one unusual for Byrne to face and for Bobby to try. He played what was known as the Gruenfeld Defense. Bobby knew the basics of the opening but hadn’t yet mastered all of its intricacies. The point was to allow white, his opponent, to occupy the center squares, making the pieces a clear target that would be vulnerable to Bobby’s attack. It wasn’t a classical way to approach the game, and it leads to a very different configuration as the game progresses; but Bobby took the chance. Because he hadn’t memorized the sequence of moves, Bobby had to figure out what to do each time it was his turn, and he became time-troubled early on. Increasingly nervous, he bit his nails, toyed with his hair, sat on his folded legs, then kneeled on the chair, put his elbow on the table, and rested his chin first on one hand and then on the other. Byrne had just defeated Samuel Reshevsky, the strongest American grandmaster in the tournament, and his chess ability was not to be disrespected. Bobby wasn’t panicked, but he was decidedly uneasy. Kibitzers began gathering around his board, and each time Bobby had to get up to visit the tiny restroom in the back of the club, he almost had to fight his way through the scrum. It interfered with his concentration: Normally, an ongoing game resonated within him even if he left the table. “The onlookers were invited to sit right next to you and if you asked them to leave or be quiet they were highly insulted,” Bobby recalled. He also noted that the warm Indian summer weather and the press of a large number of people made the room stifling. Bobby’s complaints were heard by the club’s organizers, but too late to do anything about it that night. The next summer the Marshall put in its first air conditioner. Despite his discomfort, Bobby plunged ahead with the game. Surprisingly, after only eleven moves, he’d almost magically built a positional advantage. Then, suddenly, he moved his knight to a square where it could be snapped off by his opponent. “What is he doing?” said someone to no one in particular. “Is this a blunder or a sacrifice?” As the onlookers scrutinized the position, Bobby’s ploy became obvious to all: Although not profound, it was cunning, perhaps ingenious, and even brilliant. Byrne dared not take the knight; though he would have won an important piece, ultimately it would have led to Bobby’s victory. The tournament referee described the electricity that Fischer’s audacious choice created: “A murmur went through the tournament room after this move, and the kibitzers thronged to Fischer’s table as fish to a hole in the ice.” It was exactly the madding crowd that Bobby wished would stay afar. “I was aware of the importance of the game,” recalled Allen Kaufman, a master who was studying the game as Bobby played it. “It was a sensational game and everyone was riveted on it. It was extraordinary: The game and Bobby’s youth were an unbeatable combination.” As the game progressed, Bobby had only twenty minutes remaining on his clock to make the required forty moves, and he’d so far completed just sixteen of them. And then he saw it: Using a deeper insight, he realized that there was an extraordinary possibility that would change the composition of the position and give a whole new meaning to the game. What if he allowed Byrne to capture his queen, the most powerful piece on the board? Normally, playing without a queen is crippling, almost tantamount to an automatic loss. But what if Byrne, in capturing Bobby’s queen, wound up in a weakened position that left him less able to attack the rest of Bobby’s forces and less able to protect his own? The idea for the move grew on Bobby slowly, instinctually at first, without any conscious rationale. It was as though he’d been peering through a narrow lens and the aperture began to widen to take in the entire landscape in a kind of efflorescent illumination. He wasn’t absolutely certain he could see the full consequences of allowing Byrne to take his queen, but he plunged ahead, nevertheless. If the sacrifice was not accepted, Bobby conjectured, Byrne would be lost; but if he did accept it, he’d also be lost. Whatever Byrne did, he was theoretically defeated, although the game was far from over. A whisper of spectators could be heard: “Impossible! Byrne is losing to a 13-year-old nobody.” Byrne took the queen. Bobby, now so focused that he could hardly hear the growing murmur from the crowd, made his next moves percussively, shooting them out like poison darts, hardly waiting for Byrne’s responses. His chess innocence gone, he could now see the denouement perhaps twenty or more moves ahead. Yet, other than the rapidity with which he was responding to Byrne’s moves, Bobby showed little emotion. Rather, he sat still, placid as a little Buddha, stabbing out one startling move after another. On the forty-first move, after five hours of play, with his heart slightly pounding, Bobby lifted his rook with his trembling right hand, quietly lowered the piece to the board, and said, “Mate!” His friendly opponent stood up, and they shook hands. Both were smiling. Byrne knew that even though he was on the wrong end of the result, he’d lost one of the greatest games ever played, and in so doing had become part of chess history. A few people applauded, much to the annoyance of the players whose games were still in progress and cared not that history had been made just a few feet away. They had their own games to worry about. “Shh! Quiet!” It was midnight. Hans Kmoch, the arbiter, a strong player and internationally known theoretician, later appraised the meaning and importance of the game: A stunning masterpiece of combination play performed by a boy of 13 against a formidable opponent, matches the finest on record in the history of chess prodigies.… Bobby Fischer’s [performance] sparkles with stupendous originality. Thus was born “The Game of the Century,” as it was dubbed by Hans Kmoch. Bobby’s game appeared in newspapers throughout the country and chess magazines around the world, and international grandmaster Yuri Averbach, among others, took notice, as did all of his colleagues in the Soviet Union: “After looking at it, I was convinced that the boy was devilishly talented.” The British magazine Chess relaxed its stiff upper lip, calling Bobby’s effort a game of “great depth and brilliancy.” Chess Life proclaimed Bobby’s victory nothing short of “fantastic.”
“The Game of the Century” has been talked about, analyzed, and admired for more than fifty years, and it will probably be a part of the canon of chess for many years to come. In the entire history of the game, in terms of its sheer brilliance, not only by a prodigy but by anyone, it might only compare to the game in Breslau in 1912 when spectators showered the board with gold after Frank Marshall—another American—also employed a brilliant sacrifice and beat Levitsky. In reflecting on his game a while after it occurred, Bobby was refreshingly modest: “I just made the moves I thought were best. I was just lucky.” David Lawson, a seventy-year-old American whose accent betrayed his Scottish birth, was one of the spectators that night. Earlier he’d invited Regina and Bobby to dinner after the conclusion of the game, whenever it was finished, whoever won. A tiny man, Lawson was a collector of chess memorabilia and had a particular interest in the diminutive Paul Morphy, America’s first (though unofficial) World Champion. Lawson saw a connection between Fischer and Morphy in their precocious rise, although Bobby had yet to prove himself the world’s—let alone America’s—greatest player. Lawson was an opportunist, and although he was soft-spoken and possessed Old World manners, his invitation wasn’t proffered completely out of courtesy. He’d wanted to acquire one of Bobby’s score sheets in the boy’s own handwriting to add to his collection, and by coincidence he chose to attend the Byrne-Fischer encounter, not knowing, of course, that the game would become one of the most memorable in the two-thousand-year history of chess. Lawson’s preference for dinner was Luchow’s, the German restaurant that had been far beyond the Fischer family’s means when they’d lived across the street from it some seven years before. But since it was past midnight, the kitchen was closed, so the trio repaired instead to an all-night local eatery on Sixth Avenue, the Waldorf Cafeteria—a Greenwich Village hangout for artists, writers, and roustabouts. It is here that the story of the score sheet becomes cloudy. Normally, in important tournaments, a score sheet is backed up with a carbon copy, the original going to the tournament organizers or referee for safekeeping should there be a subsequent dispute of any kind. The carbon is retained by the player. That night Bobby kept his copy—the carbon—which he wouldn’t part with for many years. Indeed, upon request, he’d take out of his pocket the folded and slightly worn sheet and show it to admirers. So what happened to the original? Kmoch, the arbiter, sensing that Bobby was a champion in the making, had already begun collecting the prodigy’s original score sheets as if they were early Rembrandt sketches. And somehow, most likely by paying for it, Lawson acquired from Kmoch the original “Game of the Century” score sheet, which bore Kmoch’s notation in large red-penciled numerals: 0–1 (indicating the loss for Byrne, the win for Fischer). Eventually, upon Lawson’s death, the score sheet was purchased by a collector, sold again, and for the last number of years it has rested with yet another collector. In today’s market, the estimated auction price for the original score sheet is $100,000. Bobby’s remuneration from the American Chess Foundation for his sparkling brilliancy? Fifty dollars.