VARIATIONS OF MONOMANIA

Nigel Short analyses

what makes him different from the Russian grandmasters

LAST month I took part in the year's strongest chess tournament, at Tilburg in the Netherlands. It was won by two Rus- sians, Vassily Ivanchuk, aged 20, and Gata Kamsky, aged 16. At the decrepit age of 25 I suppose my fourth place was a reasonable achievement.

However, there may be a price to pay for such youthful success. One commentator at the Tilburg tournament observed wryly that it had been won by two 'social inadequates'.

Not that this would concern Rustam Kamsky, a former boxer and the omnipre- sent father of Gata. For him, Gata's triumph is a total vindication of his policy of compelling his little boy to study chess eight hours a day, every day.

`Where is your father?' Mr R. Kamsky asked me over lunch one day. 'Why is he not here?' Taken aback at first, by what I considered to be a bizarre question to ask a 25-year-old married man, I proceeded to explain that my father had stopped accom- panying me to chess tournaments when I

I got them cut price.'

was 12 or 13. 'How did you cope?' he continued in Russian, his words, simul- taneously and without expression, trans- lated by Gata in a scene that reminded me of a Saddam Hussein television broadcast. `I stayed with friends,' I replied. This appeared to be an intriguing and novel proposition for father and son, who im- mediately began to discuss the idea. 'But I have no friends,' said Gata, with his usual blank expression.

Vassily Ivanchuk is more colourful. He delighted the audience at the opening ceremony of the same tournament by announcing that he liked to play chess with his dog. He is a brilliant tactician with an unnerving habit of demolishing his oppo- nents while staring at the ceiling rather than at the chess board; a technique he developed to occupy himself on long train journeys between his home town and the city of Lvov. Though a pleasant and gentle character, he occasionally behaves in un- usual ways. During one event, he disturbed the icy tension by banging a gong, much to the consternation of the other participants, and in the Manila world championship eliminator this year he was found aimlessly wandering the streets, wailing and scream- ing at the top of his voice — after winning the tournament. I came third, but didn't feel like wailing.

Gata and Vassily are both Stakhanovite professionals, ceaselessly studying, analys- ing and updating variations. A cynic would argue that this has more to do with the low premium Soviets put on time than any inherent virtue. Nonetheless, it is precisely from this direction that the next challenge to the world champion Gary Kasparov will come. It would take a monomaniacal, workaholic to succeed in toppling a cham- pion who has based his whole career on the

same qualities. Kasparov, of course, is now engaged in defending his crown in New York. It will be December before we discover the result of this struggle between Kasparov and the former champion Kar- pov, who at 39 years of age is a veritable dinosaur, at least in chess terms. The staggering duration of the contest, due to the painfully slow rate of play, looks like a contrivance to prevent chess fans and the general public from enjoying the spectacle.

I wonder whether, at the end, the sponsors will consider their millions of dollars well spent.

For Karpov, recent years have not been kind. There has been a perceptible de- terioration in the play of the man who for a decade was considered to be almost in- vincible. In a tournament in Rotterdam last year he finished with an unprecedented three consecutive defeats. In other recent games he has displayed uncharacteristic hesitation at certain critical moments. It will be a brave man to bet on him to win this match.

What's up with poor old Anatoly? Actually, nothing too serious. He is still the world's number two, but the edge has gone out of his play. People tire after being at the top for so long, understandably, when you consider the constant effort required merely to stand still. Also, I have no doubt, he feels relieved at no longer having to shoulder the burden of responsi- bility as a world champion. It is always easier to aim a little lower, Aiming lower, however, is anathema to Kasparov. He is hugely ambitious and determined. He has won or shared first place in every tournament and match he has played in since 1982, and as a consequ- ence his rating has surpassed even that held by the great Bobby Fischer. But unlike Fischer, Kasparov's ambitions are by no means confined to chess. He has shown considerable political agility, first by being a member of the Communist Party, then a vocal supporter of Mikhail Gorbachev's perestroika and lately by actively promot- ing the Russian Democratic Party. He would like to become an ambassador, though he has generously offered to be- come foreign minister 'if necessary'. That was gracious of him.

Kasparov loves to play the card of the European democrat, though perhaps Asia- tic despot would be a more appropriate description of his methods. At a meeting of the Grandmasters' Association, earlier this year, Boris Spassky, exasperated by Kas- parov's insistence on always having his own way in our deliberations, said that Kaspar- ov exemplified not the democratic but the Bolshevik approach because he acted on the following principles: 1) He who is not for us is against us 2) He who is against us must be destroyed 3) We don't know where we are going but we are going to get there.

As if to justify Spassky's allegation, an irate Kasparov approached Yasser Seira- wan — an American grandmaster and a world championship match commentator — at the end of the debate. He threatened Seirawan (who had voted with Spassky against the champion) with dismissal from his job as commentator: 'We will see how much work you get to do in New York.'

Despite his political diversions Kasparov remains a true chess professional. All other activities ceased when he went into training this summer. The qualitative and quanti- tive difference between his preparation and everyone else's is immense. He has a serve that is very difficult to return. Even if you do manage to keep the ball in the court his volleying is second to none. His success is a result of his single-mindedness and it is likely that any threat to him will come from a similarly single-minded player.

Does this mean that we have seen the end of world chess champions who are also well-rounded individuals? Or is this article just a case of 'sour grapes' on the part of someone who does not feel himself willing to sacrifice friends and other interests to the greater glory of chess?

I hope the answer to both questions is `no'.

Grandmaster Nigel Short is Britain's strongest ever chess player, and has tourna- ment victories over both Kasparov and Karpov to his credit.