Now the Trouble Starts

Facts

To clarify the uproar that broke out on the day of the first round, it is best first to set out the facts, without mixing them with opinions. Korchnoi arrived at dawn and therefore was not present at the opening ceremony the previous evening. In the morning, some five or six hours before the scheduled start of play, he announced that he would withdraw from the tournament unless the organizers removed Colonel Baturinsky as arbiter. Korchnoi accused him of being one of those who had made his life impossible in the USSR and of having acted as a military prosecutor in Stalin’s purges. The dissident had already immortalized his feelings when he declared in 1978: “Baturinsky should be hanged, drawn and quartered, and dragged through the streets of Moscow.”

Korchnoi based his demand on an alleged letter he had sent to the organizers several months earlier, making his participation conditional on Baturinsky’s absence. According to him, Rentero told him there would be no problem. Rentero says he never received such a letter and recalls that he personally handed Korchnoi a printed program in Thessaloniki in which Baturinsky appeared as arbiter. Korchnoi replies that he did not read the arbiter’s name and that in any case “that was not an official document.”

Korchnoi spent the whole morning with international master Ricardo Calvo, and when everything was over he left with him. The former Soviet player spoke with the dissident Boris Gulko, now an American, and asked for his solidarity. Gulko showed him moral support but decided that playing the tournament was more important. The players met to discuss the matter. Most of them came out in favor of Korchnoi playing the tournament — some, like Beliavsky, did so in writing — but they adopted no collective position. Korchnoi proposed that Baturinsky be named an honorary guest of the organizers in exchange for not setting foot on the stage. At the press conference later given by the organizing committee, it was not clear whether the proposal was rejected by the committee, by Baturinsky, or by both. According to some sources, Linares town hall was afraid of causing a diplomatic conflict if it removed Baturinsky as arbiter — for example, a protest by the Soviet embassy. According to others, there was fear that Karpov might leave in solidarity with Baturinsky.

At the same press conference the organizers said they were convinced that Calvo had decisively influenced Korchnoi’s attitude. Rentero went even further and said that, for him, Calvo was from that moment on “persona non grata for having wound Korchnoi up, using him to stir up his personal quarrels with the Spanish and international federations.” In conversations with journalists, the Spanish IM denied that accusation, explained that he had acted only as an interpreter, and assured them that Korchnoi was already surprised and outraged by Baturinsky’s presence when he met him that morning. In the end, Korchnoi left and the tournament began with eleven players, while retaining category 16.

After the Uproar

Opinions

It is no secret that Rentero hired Korchnoi thinking of something more than the ex-Soviet’s great fighting spirit. He knew that with Karpov, Baturinsky, and Korchnoi together it would be easy to rekindle the fire the three of them lit in Baguio, Philippines, eleven years ago. And in that he was not mistaken; he also correctly calculated the impact that a possible scandal would have in the media. El País ran it on the front page, Radio Nacional de España interrupted football broadcasts four times — something unheard of — to go live to Linares on Sunday afternoon, and El Independiente devoted an impressive amount of space to the subject.

Rentero is very intelligent, at least as much as Campomanes, who is one of the cleverest people I know. One may agree or disagree with his peculiar methods. His love of controversy and uproar sometimes leads him into attitudes that are indefensible, without qualification, as when he told a radio station that Ricardo Calvo “is a faggot.” I have criticized him several times and will go on doing so, because that is my job, but with equal firmness I must say that Spanish chess is in debt to him and to the town hall of Linares. I wish there were many Renteros and many cities like Linares.

Korchnoi’s life has been full of suffering, and that leaves deposits that are impossible to erase. If he wrote the alleged letter mentioned above, it was because he knew Baturinsky had officiated in Linares the year before, and because the colonel’s presence is a major problem for him. It is therefore inconceivable that Korchnoi would not have reacted strongly when Rentero handed him a program in Thessaloniki that contained the name of his enemy. But the worst thing about the whole affair is that in the end we were unable to enjoy the games of “Terrible Viktor,” an indefatigable fighter. A year ago Baturinsky denied Korchnoi’s political accusations, arguing that he had been too young to serve as prosecutor during Stalin’s purges. In any case, what has all this to do with the Linares tournament? More logical, and easier to prove, is Korchnoi’s other accusation, concerning the relationship between Karpov and Baturinsky; it seems quite reasonable that the latter should not arbitrate a tournament in which two irreconcilable enemies are facing each other and one of them is his friend. But what truly matters is that Baturinsky does not meet the conditions required by FIDE to arbitrate in Linares, since he knows only a few words of French and no English. Now then, if the players come to the tournament despite that, it is because they accept him as arbiter. So if those directly concerned do not protest, why should we journalists do it? On the other hand, Rentero maintains that Baturinsky’s influence is decisive in getting the Soviet federation to authorize five of its elite players to take part in the same tournament, which also has a certain logic.

Ricardo Calvo has worked hard for chess, which he deeply loves, and he could do much in the future, but he is venturing ever farther down the dangerous road of “either with me or against me,” which usually leads to despair. He now attacks two journalists — Fernando Urías and the writer of these lines — in the pages of El Independiente because, in his opinion, we do not write enough about the dirty laundry of chess, and of the Linares tournament in particular. In this latter case, according to Calvo, “Rentero goes to extremes in his attentions to the big dailies, to the point of paying for their hotel and then even giving them the bill as a present.”

It does not seem honest to me to use the space of this report to air my personal defenses and attacks against Ricardo, except for one small detail, with the reader’s permission: Fernando Urías and I have never been given any bill, and therefore we have never tried to charge the media we work for an expense that we had not previously paid ourselves. In other words, we have not cheated, as one might infer from the comment quoted in the previous paragraph.

What does seem appropriate to me, however, is to qualify the accusation against my professional integrity so that the reader can determine whether my byline offers credibility or not. First of all, I am not “from El País,” nor is Fernando “from Diario 16.” The great majority of specialized journalists are freelancers; that is, expenses are borne by us, because otherwise our reports would be too expensive in proportion to the importance that the media give to chess, and almost no information would be published about tournaments other than world championships, the only case in which it is possible to attend as a special correspondent for a single outlet. But even that possibility may disappear if the journalist is working for multiple employers — many of us do — and works for two or more outlets that do not belong to the same company (in my case, El País and Radio Nacional).

Given that, I see nothing improper in organizers or sponsors inviting a few or many journalists (in Linares, not only Fernando and me, as Ricardo says, but several others as well) in order to optimize the chances that the tournament will have an impact in the press. From that point on, it is the journalist who must reject any kind of pressure that might compromise his professional objectivity. In my particular case, I have had to publish unpleasant things about the organizers of Linares on various occasions: the meager fees paid to arbiter Antonio Medina in the Karpov/Sokolov match, the “Illescas case,” an exclusive interview with Kasparov in which he defended Korchnoi and Calvo and attacked Rentero, and so on. I have never received pressure from the organizing committee of Linares, and if I ever did it would be useless because, assuming everyone has a price, mine must be very high — and the same can be said of the immense majority of my colleagues, whom I know well.

Strange Beginning

The players meet to draw up the pairing table, and Karpov proposes that Ivanchuk be given number 1 in order to avoid a mass reshuffle. Knowing the runner-up’s superstitions, it is possible that he will never again suggest anything of the sort. After the last round Ivanchuk declared that this detail had been a very positive omen for him.

The games of the opening round were far too good, considering that the clocks were started very shortly after Korchnoi’s withdrawal, with the negative psychological consequences that this entails. It seems that Karpov was affected more than anyone else, because his game against Short left a lot to be desired, without that in any way diminishing the Briton’s brilliant performance. If he always played like that, we would have a real candidate to break Soviet hegemony. In any case, Karpov attached little importance to the morning incidents when he explained his poor performance: “I made the mistake of arriving in Linares on the eve of the tournament, and I have a lot of trouble sleeping because of the nine-hour time difference with Seattle.” There are two reasons supporting this theory: Karpov beat Hjartarson easily on the west coast of the United States, where he also played very well; moreover, his problems in Linares lasted only two more rounds. In the second, he drew with Gulko after standing somewhat worse, and in the third he came close to defeat against Beliavsky, although he ended up winning. Meanwhile, Ivanchuk had already got his locomotive at full steam and, after sitting out the first round, beat Short and Timman convincingly.

From the outset it was clear that the fighting spirit of almost all the players was noticeably greater than in other elite tournaments, as is usually the case in Linares. Rentero has a blacklist of great figures, such as Andersson and Spassky, who will not return to Linares because of their excessive peacefulness. In addition, before each round he offers financial incentives to certain carefully chosen players so that they fight for victory, especially if they have the black pieces. It is a debatable method because of the possible discrimination involved, but it is very effective. In the end, the percentage of decisive games came close to 50%, and “drawing-room draws” were very scarce.

As if Ivanchuk’s excellent start and Karpov’s problems were not enough to stimulate interest in the tournament, Kasparov gave the interview mentioned above from Washington, where he was taking part in an anti-drug campaign. Besides commenting on the incidents in Linares, Kasparov attacked the world pole-vault record holder, his compatriot Sergei Bubka, for signing a letter against him published on the front page of Sovietski Sport. The issue has very interesting implications, and we will have to deal with it in detail on another occasion. Two days later, Kasparov returned to the charge with a letter addressed to his colleagues in the GMA that is also remarkable. My colleague Denis Teyssou, who knows all the ins and outs of this affair, comments on it on another page of this magazine.

The Phoenix Rises Again

It is neither the first time nor will it be the last. Karpov once again displayed his enormous fighting spirit and delighted us with a fantastic victory over Yusupov. According to the runner-up, “this is the best game of Linares and will be one of the best of the year.” Ivanchuk came very close to defeat against Beliavsky in the fifth round, but he created such complications on the board that his rival ended up losing both his bearings and the game. By then the spectators were already astonished by the young Soviet player’s behavior on stage. Ivanchuk often turned his gaze toward the audience, even when it was his move and he was in time trouble, while stroking his mustache. He later explained that this was instinctive, because since childhood he had grown used to calculating variations without looking at the board. Stranger still were his trips out into the street in the middle of the game to run and do push-ups. He explained it like this: “I feel an imperative need to release tension. Exercise makes my head fresher and helps me play better.”

After the sixth day, Ivanchuk had 4 out of 5 and Karpov 4 out of 6. In third place was Ljubojevic, the local idol because he is married to a woman from Linares, who seems to have recovered from his slump in the last three Elo lists, where he lost 50 points in total. After suffering three straight defeats, Beliavsky began to climb back, while Hjartarson began to sink. As had already happened with Sokolov two years earlier, the Icelander seems to be suffering the after-effects of playing a Candidates match against Karpov.

Ivanchuk keeps charging ahead, but Karpov, who against Ljubojevic gave us a lesson in the minority attack and another in rook endings, keeps up the pace. We journalists feel happy because at last we can write about chess from a purely sporting point of view.

Thus the tournament reaches the tenth round with the star confrontation, Ivanchuk vs. Karpov. Both show that they are playing to win until the leader accepts the draw offer in a very equal position after 47 minutes of thought. The tournament seems decided because Ivanchuk has a 1.5-point lead with only the adjourned game between Karpov and Portisch still to be resumed, and that one seems headed for a draw. However, Karpov analyzes until two in the morning that night and gives us another lesson the next day in the resumption of a rook ending with three pawns on each side, using a maneuver simple in appearance but very deep in conception.

The last round is going to be marked by unexpected excitement, above all because Karpov has every chance of winning on Sonneborn-Berger if there is a tie at the finish. Ivanchuk can no longer cope with his nerves. At noon he barely touches his lunch, despite trying twice in the restaurant, first with a soup and then with a steak. He is rigid with tension and opts for a quick draw with Black against Portisch. It is the great opportunity for the “icy Anatoly,” who throws everything into the fight with White against Timman and even obtains an advantage, but the Dutchman manages to simplify and secure the draw that proclaims Ivanchuk the winner, his sixth place in the world ranking already too small for his strength.

Karpov summed up the tournament as follows: “One of the great tournaments of my life, despite second place. Ivanchuk was lucky against Hjartarson and Beliavsky, and I was not against Timman, but it is almost impossible to win a tournament like this without luck. I said two years ago that Ivanchuk will be world champion if his nerves allow it. As for me, I am in great form and I still intend to take the title away from Kasparov in 1990.”

Ivanchuk feels very tired and does not know whether he will play the New York Open organized by the Spaniard José Cuchi, but that does not prevent him from responding to the affection the people of Linares have shown him. At the closing banquet, after receiving the trophy from Rosa Conde, the government spokeswoman, and a thunderous ovation even greater than the one he heard when he triumphed in the city of skyscrapers a year earlier, the new star overcame his shyness and sang a couple of songs from his homeland. Thus a likable genius took his leave of a great tournament.

Linares ’90 is already under way with ambitious projects. Organizational details will have to keep improving, although that is not easy given the limited infrastructure of a small town. Rentero will not rest until he brings Kasparov. The tournament director and the hens of Linares have one thing in common: neither can be said to lack eggs.