A Truly Traditional Tournament

The emblem of the international tournament in memory of Paul Keres appeared almost a month in advance, together with Old Tallinn. It featured on a colourful poster inviting people to visit the tournament hall. It also drew viewers to their television screens during special broadcasts and attracted attention in reports and commemorative articles in the newspapers Soviet Estonia and Evening Tallinn. Finally, badges and envelopes bearing the emblem found their way into many collections.

The “calling card” of the international tournament read as follows:

the outstanding Estonian grandmaster Paul Keres took part in the first four events, while all subsequent tournaments have borne his name and been dedicated to his memory;

players from seventeen countries have taken part in the competition;

the winners have included Paul Keres, Leonid Stein, Tigran Petrosian, Mikhail Tal and Rafael Vaganian.

The Tallinn 1985 tournament was won by Sergei Dolmatov, an international grandmaster from Moscow and a newcomer to the event. This is what he told our correspondent:

“It is, of course, very pleasant and a great honour to find oneself on such an impressive list of winners. Frankly, I am in a festive mood. Even more important is the fact that this happened during the tournament itself. In the middle of the event I unexpectedly gained many new supporters. There was a rest day, and representatives of the Tallinn port invited me to give a simultaneous exhibition. I had never before had to interrupt a tournament in this way, but everything went extremely well: an interesting introduction, conversations and new impressions.

“I particularly remember visiting the unusual control room called the ‘Botanical Hall’, where ships entering the harbour could be watched through the windows. At the very demonstration board I met fellow countrymen from Siberia. In their company I felt at home. People say that at home even the walls help. It was not the walls, but the people and their sincere sympathy.”

After a successful start—2½ points from three games—there was another surge, a victory over Alexander Veindold. Then a series of three draws removed him from the lead. Nevertheless, he managed to remain in good spirits until the end. Why?

“Because in the penultimate round I was to play Hodzic, who had a promising position. I had begun calculating the places in the table, because the players were literally breathing down one another’s necks. Dolmatov was tightly bound up in the second game. The only advantage I had was the difference in prize money between third and sixth place.

“It was the penultimate round. I had a bye, while Jaan Ehlvest and Gennadi Kuzmin could catch me if they won. Both lost. Of course, suggestions that the games at the finish were arranged are absurd, especially as the other players were not easing off.”

Kuzmin nevertheless took clear second place by winning in the final round.

To share third place, which carried a prize, would have been an honour for almost any player. Yet the man who had to settle for it was Mikhail Tal. Incidentally, this was already the former world champion’s seventh tournament in Tallinn, and in the previous six he had finished only first or second.

For Viktor Gavrikov, the day on which the USSR Championship ended—where he was among the prize-winners—was also the opening day of this international tournament. Such an uninterrupted competitive schedule is extremely demanding.

The Leningrad grandmaster Alexander Kochyev played excellently and was the only participant to remain undefeated. Another foreign participant who distinguished himself was Milan Drasko of Sarajevo. The young Yugoslav master has a genuinely sporting character, and I liked his play.

The other foreign guests were also interesting players. The Australian Ian Rogers is fond of gambits. His wife, herself a chess master, accompanied him. A particular seat in the front row opposite her husband’s table was regularly occupied, and his results began to improve. He had not come to the tournament only for the result, however; equally important was the experience, which he undoubtedly gained.

Much had been expected from Finland’s Jouni Yrjölä. His rating was quite high—over 2500—and he had made a good first impression in Soviet tournaments. In Sochi he had shared fourth to fifth place with Tal. Here, however, his performance could not be called successful. The fact remains that Finland has produced an interesting player who works hard, is also a graduate engineer, and writes about chess programs for computers.

The young Hungarian international master Tibor Karolyi had a choice of where to play: in an international tournament in Malta or in the Paul Keres Memorial. For many people the Mediterranean coast is considerably more attractive than the Baltic, but Tibor chose Tallinn.

“I came to learn,” he said.

Indeed, a 50-percent score at the beginning was not bad, especially since Hungarian players are traditionally accustomed to strong competition. In Karolyi’s case, in my opinion, everything still lies ahead.

Two defeats at the finish prevented Jaan Ehlvest from taking a higher place. The Estonian master had a chance to achieve a grandmaster norm and needed a win in the final round. But as sometimes happens in such situations, he either tried too hard or simply exhausted himself.

The winner of this year’s tournament traditionally became an invited participant in the next one. I would gladly play in the jubilee memorial as well. The next event also promises to be interesting, since the organizers are planning to assemble an even stronger field.

And if we are speaking of traditions, this was first and foremost a tournament that was traditional in the fullest sense. That does not mean only that it had been held regularly for sixteen years, important though that was. There were many other traditions as well. Among them was the obligatory ceremonial ritual: a reception with the city mayor and the laying of flowers at Paul Keres’s grave.

The officials, and even the arbiters, were also “traditional”. Chief arbiter Lembit Vahesaar and his deputy Harry Ello had directed the arbiting work at all ten tournaments.

Tallinn 1985, in the opinion of most participants, was organized to a high standard. The players were satisfied. Nor were the spectators neglected. Every hour in the hall, lightweight printed leaflets were distributed, reproducing the current positions from the games with a delay of no more than ten minutes. Chess enthusiasts could hardly keep up with all the changes. During those ten-minute intervals the silence was absolute. The crowd followed the games on the demonstration boards. For the spectators it was not merely convenient, but above all interesting.