Lamppost Chess

As he strode towards us, he asked loudly if either of us had any drugs. My friend didn’t seem to have a clear grasp of the situation. I, on the other hand, had a pretty clear picture of what was about to happen. Maybe it was the years of bar work, maybe it was just growing up in my part of Scotland. Sure enough, without breaking stride to consider my flatmate's response to his ridiculous question (that neither of us had any drugs), the man planted one on my flatmate's chin.

In the ensuing brawl, we fought back and forth and despite the initial disorientation and shock, my friend and I managed to co-ordinate and put our superior numbers to good use. It became clear we had the upper hand and that the fight was ours. Perhaps sensing this, the big man turned around and legged it. He ran about five metres - straight into a lamppost, and knocked himself out.

I remember looking at the poor guy lying there on his back, and then looking at my friend and us both collapsing into fits of hysterical, adrenaline-induced laughter. Once we had calmed down, neither of us really knew what to do. I mean, what would you do? Help the guy? Bizarrely enough, when he finally came to, he got up and attacked us again. His second wind was short-lived however and he decided to give up the fight and head home.

I was reminded of this story as I sat having a few beers and reminiscing with the flatmate in question just last week. And the weird thing about the story was that it seemed like the perfect metaphor for every chess game I seem to play at my level.

You see, it's rare that I’ll get into a battle on the chess board and come out covered in scars, out of breath, and just barely victorious. More often than not, I’ll get into a good fight, both me and my opponent will spar, pitting our wits against each other. It’s intense and gratifying. It feels like a worthwhile and meaningful fight. As the game goes on, I develop a respect for my opponent and sense that they, too, have come to respect me. We challenge each other, we duck and faint, parry and jab.

And then one of us runs straight into a lamppost.

My opponent hangs a piece after 45 moves. I’ll hang mate-in-1 after defending soundly for most of the middlegame. One of us will just knock ourselves out and the question of who is the better chess player feels largely unanswered. In victory it feels hollow and in defeat it can often be shrugged off - though I have to caveat that it never should be.

And so I wonder if this ever ends. I long for my rating to go up, so that my rating goes up. But I also long for my rating to go up so I can play real chess. So I can battle my opponent to the bitter end. I want to win my chess games, I don’t want my opponents to lose. I want to feel like one way or another, something was earned - not given. I don’t want to play Lamppost Chess anymore and that is honestly one of my primary motivations for becoming a better chess player.

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