All the Right Moves

To Win Big, Think Different

People have been playing chess as we know it since the 15th century. Chess strategies have been analyzed, refined, and reanalyzed. That's why so many players learn one set of principles and then follow those principles mechanically. They begin each game the same way. They respond to a certain attack the same way. They are "playing by the rules" -- but they are also setting themselves up to lose to someone who has rethought those rules.

From the beginning, Bobby Fischer operated at the cutting edge of ideas. He would develop new moves to introduce early in a game, or he would discover and reinvigorate old moves that people had forgotten. I used to see him early in the morning at the Marshall Chess Club, in New York City. The club had a cupboard filled with index cards -- records of games from the 19th century -- and Fischer would be poring over those records. I asked myself, "Why is the world's best player reading about games from 150 years ago?" Sure enough, during the U.S. Championship one year, he played an opening that was inspired by one of those old games. And he didn't just play the same opening -- he put his signature on it. That was one of his great gifts: finding unusual moves and revitalizing them.

Small Advantages Produce Big Results

Chess is a game of small advantages. It all goes back to Wilhelm Steinitz, the first great modern chess teacher. Steinitz developed the theory of positional chess, which assumes that, to get an advantage, you have to give up something in return. The question then becomes "How can anyone win? Why isn't the game always held in dynamic balance?" The answer is that you play for seemingly insignificant advantages -- advantages that your opponent doesn't notice or that he dismisses, thinking, "Big deal, you can have that." It could be a slightly better development, or a slightly safer king's position. Slightly, slightly, slightly. None of those "slightlys" mean anything on their own, but add up seven or eight of them, and you have control. Now the only way that your opponent can possibly break your control is by giving up something else. Positional chess teaches that we are responsible for our actions. Every move must have a purpose.

There's one last point to keep in mind. Players often give their opponents too much credit. If a move doesn't make sense, if your opponent has put you in a position to take a piece and you don't understand why, keep looking for a reason. But if you can't find a reason, if it seems that your opponent has made a mistake, then take the piece! The only way you can punish your opponent is by taking that piece. If you do, one of two good things will happen: You just might be right, and you'll win. Or you'll be wrong, and you'll learn something. But don't be afraid to stand by your analysis.

Mind Games Are Part of the Game

There's an expression in chess: "Play the board, not the man." That's not quite right. You want the bulk of your moves to be objective and analytical. But being good at chess also requires being good at reading people. And being good at reading people starts with being able to read their eyes.

People often ask me, "How can you tell if a kid has talent?" By observing how a child looks at the board, I can tell if the child has a sensitivity to the game. When most children look at the board, they stare at a single point. But chess is a game of spatial relations. If I see a lot of eye movement, that's usually a reflection of real thinking. The thinking may be incorrect -- kids are kids -- but that eye movement tells me that the child may have something.

Few people think of chess as an intimate, personal game. But that's what it is. Players learn a lot about their opponent, and exceptional chess players learn to interpret every gesture that their opponent makes. And sometimes it comes down to psychological warfare. Kasparov breaks people down. He'll use grimaces, or he'll chuckle in a very humiliating way whenever someone makes a bad move. That can be debilitating to an opponent. When Kasparov played Deep Blue, he lost that advantage. He was playing a machine. All of his body language, which can break down other human beings, had no value.

I remember a match between two Russians, Anatoly Karpov and Viktor Korchnoi. Korchnoi was a defector from the Soviet Union, which made the match all the more intense. Karpov had a "psychologist" named Vladimir Zukhar on his team. But Zukhar was really nothing more than a specialist in staring. His role throughout the entire match was to stare down Korchnoi -- which unnerved Korchnoi tremendously. Karpov ended up winning by a very small margin.