When I finally got ’round to watching The Queen’s Gambit, a limited Netflix series that was partly responsible for an online rediscovery of chess during the pandemic, I felt weirdly proud that I had no inclination to bask in the same shortlived fascination with the boardgame that other viewers felt. I’m not like others, I thought. I won’t bite.
At least, not while I was sitting enjoying the show: it looked frustrating and time-consuming, very time-consuming, I thought. Could I really spend a good portion of my hours as Beth Harmon did, hours and hours on a simple boardgame? Dutch master Paul Morphy shared these sentiments, expressing that “the ability to play chess well is the sign of a wasted life.”
But the fact that I can quote a famous grandmaster might suggest to you that, eventually, I did bite… I did create a chess.com account, and I did binge many, many videos on the topic. Shortly after I watched Beth sit down and play her final chess match in the show, I began my own journey, despite my internal affirmation that I wouldn’t budge.
I’ve spent those hours, my Elo rating starting at 800. I watched it fall down to 600, before rising again to 700 – and I can tell you now, I don’t regret indulging in this hobby. Nor do I plan for this to be a short-lived interest of mine.
The Chess Journey
The game is surprisingly addictive, and in the internet age we can surely play as much chess as we want against other people. It has stood the test of time for a reason: we can’t resist testing our intelligence and strategy against another person’s. To play the game, we momentarily indulged in the infectious fantasy that Beth’s story inspired in us.
And chess.com’s game-review feature has made the arduous venture of learning from one’s mistakes somewhat easier – one can only speculate how much more dedication and time the game would have required before the internet had made it accessible to almost everyone. As long as you know what directions the little bits of wood can move in, you’re invited.
I’d play a game, quit for a couple of days, play again, quit some more, return, and so on. I’d watch a video in between, secretly curious as to how other people manage to make certain decisions and apply certain tactics. I’d use the same openings that they’d use and fall flat on my face, because I didn’t really understand them.
My anger, slowly but surely, pushed me to try harder at understanding the game so that I could really enjoy it. And I suppose that that’s part of the difference between a short-lived interest and a long-term hobby: failure impedes a lot of people’s interest, understandably. We can’t stand to fail, although we know inside that failure (if we have the wisdom to learn from it) equates to higher rates of success in the long term. In chess, you’ll fail about half of the time.
Time is the Difference
There is also, of course, the factor of time. Not everyone has the time to reach a conclusion such as this, which explains why an international pandemic and a successful Netflix show can encourage so many people to try their hands at a game they’ve always kept in the periphery.
I vaguely remember the chess club at my school, I remember reading some articles about whether chess should be considered a sport or not, but I never really gave it time or day until I had nothing better to do. That’s the hard truth of it, I suppose: you need to give it time to enjoy it, and some simply don’t have the time.
But then, I thought, that’s everything. I have a lot of interests and hobbies that I’ve not given enough time to develop and deepen, and for the longest time they’ve only stagnated. Work at it, practice, that’s what everyone tells me… and I knew it, but I just couldn’t push myself to do it. For it required me to give a level of focus that I just wasn’t used to, and (again) an embarrassing amount of time.
Chess is Everything, Chess is Beautiful
But I don’t consider chess a waste of time at all, especially (but not necessarily) if one can derive a profession and income from it. I agree with Hans Ree’s refutal of Paul Morphy’s famous aphorism, that “chess is beautiful enough to waste your life for.”
The practice can help develop a wide variety of skills, such as time-management, empathy with one’s opponent, prudence, etc. etc. But most importantly, I believe, chess allowed me the space to put everything down and just focus on this one thing (maybe with some music on in the background), which I believed I just couldn’t do with anything for a long time. I could not comprehend that any single thing could take my attention completely, for I would just move onto something else when I got the chance, or at least think about what else I could be doing.
Personal Style
What chess has done for me, it has made me realise that my other interests deserve time from me, they deserve a level of effort (even the smallest of efforts) that is definitely possible. How? Bore yourself, put everything down, and get damn near to forcing yourself to doing that thing, and you’ll find a way to enjoy it.
One aspect of chess which I believe really highlights this sentiment of mine, are chess openings. Although chess openings have developed over years of experimentation and analysis by people you probably don’t know or care about (I know I don’t), certain ones seem to complement your personal playing style.
For instance, I prefer playing the Cow (scandalous, I know), the Stonewall, or a mix of the two – they’re just right for me. Because if you’re not doing you, then I don’t see the point of continuing with any interest. If a hobby becomes a source of income for you, then questions come in of how true to yourself you should be, and whether sometimes you have to compromise for the sake of maintaining your income. But that’s a completely different question.
If you have trouble practising at your guitar, play a riff from one of your favourite songs, or leave the rules be and let imagination take over – try everything to enjoy your interest. Take breaks too, even if you’re in a state of enjoyment, or you’ll find that you’re now giving less time to other things.
When To Quit
And, if after all that, you still can’t find it in yourself to enjoy something – whether it be practising a sport, art-form, or game – you might have to consider leaving it be, but only as a last resort. Some things just aren’t for you, and it’s cool to give them up.
I found myself becoming a near-student of the boardgame without it ever having been my intention to do so. Playing daily, watching videos, experimenting with my openings and play-style. It was almost unconscious, I was a baby finding its feet. I was both frustrated and enamoured, but my desire to improve suffocated any feeling of inferiority whilst playing the game. Even when I felt like an idiot, I kept playing, I didn’t care.
So, I suppose, that’s my final point and conclusion, that you should not care about feeling like a dumbass. Just keep going – I know, cliché, but it’s so, so true. Keep going. What does Beth Harmon do after earning the title of world champion? She keeps playing.
