Introduction in Brief

The United Incandescent Lamp Works and the Hungarian Chess Federation organized the fourth Tungsram tournament between 4 and 22 August. Although several leading foreign and Hungarian players were absent because of the Interzonal events, the field was still very strong, as the high Elo average of 2476 confirms. In this Category X tournament, the grandmaster norm was 9 points, while the international master norm was 7.5 points — though in practice nobody was particularly concerned with the latter.

Looking back, the tournament may be described as a clear success. It produced games of an even higher standard than expected, and Hungarian success was not lacking: Vadász took first place, while Sax finished third, each among a group of strong foreign grandmasters. If we add that a grandmaster finished in last place, and that a 50% score was still enough to share the substantial fifth prize, the statistical evidence also confirms the strength of the event. In such an evenly matched field — apart from the clearly distinguished first four — it was no accident that there were many draws: exactly 50% of all games.

In the first part of our report we have confined ourselves to curiosities, dramatic moments, and the turning points of the tournament. The more detailed analysis of the less spectacular, but often more instructive, games requiring deeper examination is left for our next issue.

Kholmov Sparkles

In the first and second rounds we watched with admiration Kholmov’s almost magical technique, with which he confidently won equal endgames. “Yes, his technique is still what it used to be...” one might have thought, alluding to the passage of time and to the grandmaster’s increasingly solid style. As a side thought, however, there was perhaps also a trace of regret: “...but his tactics are no longer what they were.” He gave a sharp answer to that already in the third round.

Sax Switches On

The fifth round brought one of the most interesting games of the tournament: our Sax against Vogt of the GDR. After a weak start, both players were trying to recover. Sax wanted to make people forget his two defeats against Tatai and Spiridonov. Vogt, for his part, had lost only one game after six adjournment sessions, but had still not won; after four games both players had 1.5 points.

After the previous round, on the long evening journey from Váci út to distant Kelenföld, our grandmaster told us the story of his encounters with Vogt and their head-to-head results. They were old acquaintances — and, enviably, both still young — but nowadays they had already met in international events even as juniors. Most importantly, Sax had usually won. Our grandmaster therefore trusted himself and promised that he would “switch on”. Those present could hardly believe their eyes when, as far as we could see, the two players seemed to be charging straight into pitch darkness — at least that is how it looked to us.

Fate played a cruel joke on Spiridonov. In several games he showed grandmaster strength; he was also favoured by Fortune’s dress rehearsal, and came close to the longed-for grandmaster norm — and then came the collapse. Severe time trouble, exhaustion, errors, defeats: he left with a heavy share of regret in his heart.

What Happened to Suetin?

He arrived as one of the favourites. Almost straight from Lublin, he was first on the starting list. He began with a draw — “even Székely could not beat him with White!” we whispered behind his back. At that stage we did not yet suspect that in the fifth round he would lose with White against Vadász. Even afterwards we still assumed that he would pull himself together and make a strong showing. But all we saw were draws, and then, in the ninth round, Honfi outplayed him neatly. Although he scored a full point against the two Americans, Kholmov and Pintér kept him under water. His loss to Kholmov was understandable.

By the end of the tournament his earlier nervousness had eased, and he himself could only smile at his misfortune. “The Lublin tournament ruined me — and before it the strenuous training camp I held for the Poles,” he said by way of explanation. Let us believe him: at fifty it is wise to avoid prolonged overexertion.

Now a few words about our own players, and first of all about what gave us pleasure. We shall illustrate Vadász’s excellent performance with several examples. He played hard, accurately and energetically; he did not become discouraged, and he was capable of brilliancies as well. It is clear that he deserved the grandmaster title, this time confirming it with another outstanding result. We now present one of his endgames.

This ending arose from the Pirc Defence, of which Vadász — especially with Black — is one of Hungary’s leading specialists. His opponent soon regretted his opening choice, but late regret is of little use.

Sax’s Tour de Force

He did not invoke fatigue, or any number of other excuses, but set out for this tournament not long after Amsterdam. In other words, he put his stamina to the test. It was worth it.

The pleasant surprise of the tournament was the victory of Vadász of Hungary.

Admittedly, Sax began disappointingly. He lost to Tatai and Spiridonov, but then he decisively changed course. In the end he scored eight wins in this compact and experienced field. His momentum carried him so far that he even had first place in his sights. What he then did with White against Mednis will not soon be forgotten. Let us not dwell on it. It was enough that he drove out the first demon — or its host — and had to be content with the still very successful third-fourth place. In my view Sax is still not fully formed and is capable of more. Of course, from his present level it is already rather difficult to demand much more.

Among his inspired ideas, let us look at his miniature against Kholmov. The Soviet grandmaster had not suffered such a quick defeat for a long time — especially not with White.

The Czechoslovak grandmaster Jansa also owed his placing to a forceful finish. Up to the eleventh round he was not being counted among the prize-winners, but then, refuting his earlier poor form, he scored 3.5 points from the last four rounds. A reward for perseverance and stamina.

Before the fourth round something particularly unpleasant happened to Honfi: he was involved in a car accident. His life was saved by the seat belt, but the car was badly damaged. Had he withdrawn because of the shock, no one would have blamed him. He gathered himself and stayed. In keeping with his character, he then played several excellent games.

The Italian Tatai, who happened to be spending the summer in Budapest, gladly accepted the unexpected invitation. He began splendidly — we shall show his win against Sax — but an unexpected defeat made him cautious, and he began to take draws. That became the problem: the collapse against Spiridonov never left him, and the grandmaster norm slipped far away. Perhaps next time.

Towards the Westerinen Mystery

Those of us lodged in the “lower house” could still lay our heads down peacefully after each round in the final phase, because one thing was already clear: a grandmaster would certainly finish below us. We mean Westerinen. The Finnish grandmaster, who only a few weeks earlier had finished third in Szolnok, started disastrously: three losses. True, he began against Kholmov and fought very stubbornly, but still... His finish was no better: half a point from three games. A mystery. Poor physical condition alone is not a satisfactory explanation, although there is probably some truth in it. Throughout his career, success and failure have so far alternated in a baffling way. What is hidden in a player’s head is hard to uncover and prove; most of the time we can only draw conclusions from the games we see. “Show me your game, and I will tell you who you are.”

Weinstein has already achieved one or two fine results, and perhaps for that reason his performance caused a measure of disappointment. His playing strength is not especially great, but his preparation is better.

Mednis gave a more favourable impression: a tenacious, experienced and well-prepared fighter who bravely plays for the win. He might have become a grandmaster earlier, partly because after Fischer’s victory he devoted himself almost entirely to chess, effectively putting aside his engineering diploma. Since then he has improved further. The endgame, however, does not seem to be among his principal strengths; he made a poor move against Pintér as well. The same happened from the position below, which we considered won for him.

Two of our young players had the opportunity to gain experience. Székely was difficult to beat, although it is true that only once did he obtain a winning advantage — against Westerinen. He is a slow-maturing type; there is no need to rush him. He has an individual style, and that is the basis for development, but it has not yet fully shone through. Pintér, by contrast, sparkles and flashes. He sees astonishingly quickly and sees a great deal; his foundations are basically sound. He is interested in everything, including adjourned games — he was the most diligent spectator. He may soon be able to fight for a grandmaster norm. Perhaps he still needs a little more calmness, and of course the same unchanging diligence.

The authors of the article will remain silent about themselves — for many reasons — though not about their subject: they tried, they fought, and they became somewhat deflated.

Finally, let us list those organizers who did everything for the success of the tournament: director-general Béla Dienes, Róbert Bende, Lajos Szikriszt, Gyula Gálos, Margit Miklósicz, Mrs. Tibor Bozsik, Mrs. Pál Dercze, Tibor Szabó and Oszkár Hetlinger, all employees of the United Incandescent Lamp Works; Tibor Flórián as chief secretary; and Sándor Tulok, who contributed greatly as an activist of the Hungarian Chess Federation.