...Many, Many More Times

It seems as if it was only quite recently that the Central Chess Club opened its doors for the ceremonial beginning of its work and, after less than three years had passed, held its first international tournament. And now its second decade is already under way. At first it was a little-known path; now it is a traditional tournament.

Traditions vary. In Hastings and at Wijk aan Zee, for example, the very name of the event determines almost everything: the place, the unchanged dates. The British, even at night, would never violate the formula of the main tournament: five “foreigners” plus five “home” players. It seems they are not troubled by the fact that for chessplayers, especially elderly ones, the unfavourable climate obliges them to spend most of the month not in spring, summer or autumn. The number of participants may change, and with it one of the indicators of tradition changes as well: the name of the event. After all, international tournaments, unlike federation events, are not regulated in this respect, and therefore “gaps” in the schedule are not uncommon.

The “eleventh” traditional tournament begins with something from its predecessors. First of all, it has ceased to be a purely Moscow event, but in a certain sense it has retained the idea of a tournament for chessplayers of the younger generation. Three years have passed — and one must return, preferably with a considerable gain. But for chess this is usually still early. The name is not yet ready to become an entirely established part of the tradition, either. So there is something of it — and at the same time not quite yet.

A tournament of young masters, most of whom had not yet celebrated their thirtieth birthday, was intended to bring together not merely promising players. It was conceived as a meeting of the “chess relief,” of those who are already climbing the steps of their own biographies. To what extent did this succeed?

The many-time champion of Finland, International Master Heikki Westerinen, is well known to Soviet chess lovers. Incidentally, he earned his title in Leningrad, in the tournament devoted to the 50th anniversary of October. That fact alone says a great deal. One may also recall his seventh place in the representative international event in Bamberg, his participation in zonal tournaments, and much else. Soviet masters regarded Risto Ničevski as one of their rivals. Two or three years ago, in the latest Yugoslav championship, he took an excellent third place. And earlier this summer the 24-year-old Yugoslav successfully withstood a test in the match against the Soviet team. Four encounters with Vasiukov brought him a positive score.

Slaviša Kukić can even count exactly how many times he has played in competitions with the strongest masters of Czechoslovakia. “About ten? Ten years?” he recalled. But with the greatest enthusiasm he spoke above all about his representative championship.

The brother of the well-known grandmaster Portisch, Ferenc Portisch, stands considerably lower in the Hungarian ranking table. But not everything is achieved at once; for a player at the beginning of his second decade in the national championship, that is already not bad, especially taking into account the overall strength of Hungarian chess.

If the guests mentioned above had lived roughly a quarter of a century each, then Jan Timman looked quite young among them. Only about three years earlier, as a 15-year-old schoolboy from Delft, he had finished third in the world junior championship. Now he had taken third place in the Dutch championship among adult masters. Just before his departure for the city hosting the Central Chess Club tournament, Timman had become champion of his country.

To this list one should add the Armenian champion Karen Grigorian, whose invitation was evidently a gesture of fraternal relations with that country, and the Leningrader Daniel Yanovsky. In terms of age, our participants quite accurately fitted the conception of the tournament. As for their level — well, one must also mention Jablonski. In general, one may say that the “away” group consisted mostly of young masters occupying a narrow and restless high level. And that, indeed, was the intention.

What Did the Tournament Show?

The sporting struggle was lively and full of surprises. The tournament formula — four rounds, adjournments, a rest day — naturally divided the event into three stages. In the opening stage, especially before the adjournments, Westerinen, Ničevski and Timman made serious claims to success. It seemed that only Faibisovich, the Soviet masters, and one player somewhat ahead of the others — Kukić — could compete with them. But for others, especially Timoshchenko and, strangely enough, the experienced Kanengurt, things were not going well.

Already the first adjournments showed that our young players analyse better and, with greater persistence, make use of even the smallest chances — if not to win, then to save the game. Having overtaken their opponents, the winners generally achieved a positive result in almost all adjourned games.

The middle part, rounds five to eight, was catastrophic for our guests. The most dangerous of them, Westerinen, scored nothing at all; Portisch and Timman added only one point each to their total, while Kukić and Ničevski gained half a point apiece. It is difficult to judge what happened to Westerinen. Not long before, after a crushing defeat in round five against Razuvaev, the Finnish master continued to fight sharply at the board, overcoming all the vicissitudes of the struggle.

During the same days Kanengurt three times saved himself, adjourned four games, and in all the remaining ones — apart from the game with Butnorius — alternated wins and losses with enviable regularity. It must be said plainly that he played sharply and attractively. He was distinctive, and each day he seemed to put more strength into the fight, increasing the power of his blows.

The finish proved decisive in determining the winner. Grigorian’s loss to Kanengurt in the ninth round deprived him of his chances for first place. For Faibisovich, at that moment there had been no defeat. The next day his excellent, one might say model, victory over Kanengurt, with success, allowed him once more to demonstrate his fine fighting qualities and to wrest a fully deserved victory.

The second hero of the finish was Timoshchenko, who fully rehabilitated himself after an unsuccessful start. In general, there are no objections to the sporting strength of the Soviet participants, with the exception of Kanengurt. Although this capable master did not agree with the critical assessment of his performance in the final of the All-Union Central Council of Trade Unions championship, pointing quite rightly to his heavier tournament workload and to the memory of a previous event. Still, only his youth and lack of experience could explain so many “weaknesses.” To his credit, it should be noted that after satisfactory draws in the seventh and eighth rounds, his last two consecutive defeats were by no means accidental.

Among the foreign masters, Ničevski performed reasonably well. True, he took his losses very hard. “Just think,” he said, “not a single win! For the third time already I have lost a game from a promising position!” This shows how deeply he approached his serious encounters. Perhaps it was precisely this depth that our talented guest lacked in order to achieve greater success.

Kukić left a good impression: he always fought seriously and with great simplicity. For Westerinen the tournament ended unsuccessfully because of psychological instability. Timman and Portisch, one hopes, will draw the necessary conclusions; many of their results undoubtedly still lie ahead in a larger chess future.

Overall, the tournament turned out to be somewhat above average master level and produced quite a few interesting games. That is why we give below all the preserved games, in which readers will find much that is instructive and interesting.

As for the traditions of the USSR Central Chess Club — may they be repeated many, many more times.

L. Abramov