Chess: Checkmates over playdates

For a long time he stares at the board across from his opponent, without a timer and without saying a word. The only noises in the room are the rustling of Daniel’s synthetic pants and the heavy breathing of his opponent’s stuffed nose. Daniel is standing, leaning over the table with his legs twisted. His adversary reclines back and looks up at the ceiling in hopes of divine advice for his next move. None comes.

“I mean, you’ll still be down two pawns either way,” Daniel offers reassuringly. In the end, his opponent makes his move. Daniel smiles. “I like my position,” he says and then giggles.

Daniel is what makes this night, and each Friday night with the Princeton Chess Club, worth watching. Daniel is not interesting because of his talent, which is at or slightly above the level of most of Princeton’s best. The striking thing about Daniel is that he actually fits in quite well in both skill and demeanor. Where there should be many major differences between him and other players, only one is noticeable.

Daniel is nine.

I sat to Daniel’s left during his match and faced his board directly, so I did not notice a little girl walk over and take a seat across the table from me. “Do you want to play?” she asked me politely, her dark hair falling in two neat braids on each side of her face.

I hesitantly agreed. I had just seen her peer Daniel crush his competition, so I was nervous. I figured (hoped) we had equal levels of experience, but because I was her elder I might have the advantage. The large piece of pizza in her baby-carrot-sized fingers emphasized her minute size and age. She could not even see the chess pieces without resting her knees on a wooden chair and straightening above the board. She is 10 years old and was here with the Chess Club because her older brother was honing his nationally ranked skills with the team tonight.

I let her play as white, a handicap to make our match more even. She beats me. We flip the board around, and this time I control white. She wins again. The matches are competitive, but she wins them both soundly. I am twice her age. She has twice my skill.

Former Chess Club president Eugene Leypunskiy ’11 has been playing chess in his home country of Russia since he was five. “I think it was the usual story of your grandfather teaches you how to play,” he explained of his beginnings. “I lived in Russia back then, and my grandfather actually taught me for two or three summers in a row. We’d go to our country house, and every afternoon we’d play for an hour or two.”

He doesn’t remember much from this time aside from the never-ending string of defeats. “At first I’d lose miserably,” he said. “But I’ll never forget when I actually beat him once. That was the proudest I’ve been.” Despite the impressive upset, Eugene did not witness a family changing of the guard, and his grandfather went back to crushing the young boy. Despite only one win sandwiched between years of losing, he kept trying and learning happily.

“Chess starts in the family,” Leypunskiy said. “Everyone has a chess board in their house.”

Everyone, that is, except for little Daniel. Daniel’s parents had little knowledge of the game. So who was Daniel’s first true teacher and inspiring influence? A computer.

Yes, Daniel first started playing chess on his mother’s computer on a preinstalled application that comes with every Apple computer. He played against the program and picked up most of what he knows by copying the movements and learning the patterns of his digital opponent. He was five years old and began increasing the difficulty of the program to keep up with his growth. But he didn’t stop there.

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His parents saw that he needed more competition than he was getting from his peers, so they hired a tutor from the area. That tutor was Gabe Frieden ’12, a Princeton chess club member. Daniel’s parents believed Frieden would be tutoring their son, but Frieden said he’s not so sure that their roles weren’t reversed. “I don’t think I taught him much,” he said. Frieden, in turn, invited Daniel to come play with the Princeton Chess Club. Leypunskiy and other club officers only slightly hesitated to let the fourth-grader compete with the big boys. “After a few meetings, we realized these kids were really good at chess ... So we’re really glad they are around.”

“So does age matter?” Leypunskiy asked himself. “Of course, to a certain extent. But the time you put into the game is really the determinant for a serious chess player.”

As club members pack up for the night, I challenge the little girl one last time. After a full night of observation, I want to avenge my losses. We set up the board and I give her no advantages. I take white. I want to control the opening.

I don’t have the knowledge of proper chess openings, but I do the best I can. I open the third matchup with my pint-sized rival with the only opening I know, moving my king’s pawn two spaces forward, which I learned from my grandfather. My experience in chess compares closely to Leypunskiy’s.

The importance of the opening in chess extends outside of just winning individual games. The age of one’s “opening” to chess helps determine skill. The opening plays of a computer program turn into middles and victorious endings. It takes the opening up of a grandfather’s knowledge to spark an interest, and it is the opening of a little girl’s mouth that reduces a man’s confidence.

How do I know all this? Because with my simple opening, I gained control over my pint-sized rival, and I kept that advantage throughout. I won. Checkmate.

But my night with Princeton Chess Club ended there, and my opponent and I played no more games. It was past her bedtime. Until next Friday.