World Chess: Odd ritual and an ordeal for players

Bengaluru: It’s a bit of a weird chess ritual if you think about it. Two players who’ve spent the last couple of hours trying to destroy each other, sit at the same table moments later, peel off the scabs and tell the world how they feel. The victor and the vanquished share a joint deposition.
While this practice is part of major chess tournaments such as the eight-player Candidates event, it appears the most pronounced in the World Championship – where it’s just two players in a gladiatorial fight for chess’ ultimate prize who appear jointly to address the press after every game. It’s mandatory according to Fide guidelines for the match and failing to show up can lead to 10% of earnings being docked.
It’s also a moment of truth. After a couple of hours of duelling against each other in a soundproof bubble, with nothing but their instincts, calculation and preparation, they emerge to be confronted by every tactic they overlooked, every miniscule opportunity they missed. After Game 5, for instance, Ding Liren walked in for the press conference, content with the quick draw, only to be told by everyone else in the room, his opponent and the laptop on the table offering crude evaluation – that he had an advantage and could have pushed for a win. It must feel like a cold shower from hell. Chess players are only too used to it. “I didn’t see the idea with 28…Rc8… I didn’t realise that it was a big advantage for me,” said the reigning world champion.
At the heart of chess’s post-mortem exercise is the urge for those playing and watching to uncover the ‘truth’ of the position. This is possible because of the precision involved in chess, where you can replicate and recreate exactly what happened.
Over the 15-odd minutes of addressing the press together, they dissect and explain why they did what they did to their opponent — both the thick-headed moves and moments of genius, how their opponent could have bludgeoned them and what effect it had on them. All, with their opponent sitting beside them.
A touch far-fetched perhaps but it reminds one of the infamous “brain-eating” scene where Hannibal Lecter picks out a portion of Paul Krendler’s brain with a scalpel (Krendler can feel nothing), sautes it in a skillet, and calmly feeds it to him.
The press conference isn’t the only time both players discuss how they could have made each other’s lives more hellish on the board. After a game, the players sometimes choose to go over the moves with each other, like Gukesh and Ding did after their quick 23-move draw in Game 2. It’s a curious exercise – players who sit across from each other, barely make eye contact and go for each other’s throats for a couple of hours, at the end discuss what they could have done better.
During the hours that they’re locked in battle, while both players run calculations in their head and try to recall move orders from a multitude of others crammed in memory, everyone else has the luxury of computer engines which tell them the best moves right away. Five-time world champion Viswanathan Anand’s famous, “No, I was thinking about what to have for dinner,” when asked if he had calculated through the various permutations, springs to mind. It was during his 2013 World Championship match in Chennai against Magnus Carlsen.
In his book Mind Master, Anand wrote about finding the drill of post-game press conferences in a match taking place in his hometown, where he was far from his best, to be pretty torturous: “Here I was, having to painfully sit through post-game press conferences… explanations being sought for my moments of brain fade. It was humiliating. I tried to close my eyes and pretend that it was happening to someone else.”
For a portion of the match, Anand chose to appear for the post-game press conference, take the questions addressed to him and leave the room rather than go through the process together with his opponent.
During the 2016 match between Carlsen and Sergey Karjakin, after seven successive draws, the match finally saw a decisive result. A breakthrough victory for Karjakin in Game 8. Carlsen was visibly annoyed when he arrived for the post-game press conference. He waved his arms, got up and left the room before his opponent arrived. Karjakin went on to address the press by himself.
Sometimes the nature of questions can be uncharitable. Ian Nepomniachtchi was asked after Game 9 in the 2021 match, for instance, if he’d got himself a haircut “out of shame”, like the Samurais did after a defeat. Or when Carlsen, after a win, was asked if he felt sorry for his opponent. Nepomniachtchi wore a pained smirk at the suggestion. “Well, it’s a World Championship,” Carlsen replied. The unsaid bit – there’s no room for mercy.
In the final press conference after Ding was crowned world champion in 2023, as he struggled to process his joy and rush of emotions, Nepomniachtchi sat at the other end of the table – devastated at his second failed attempt at the title. He had his head resting on the table, on his arms, waiting for the ordeal of questions to blow over. “With this tournament, a huge piece of my life – all of the preparation, all of the work – has finished,” he said as his opponent of three weeks spoke of never having dreamt of becoming world champion.
After Game 5 both Ding and Gukesh were asked to pick their opponent’s favourite game from the past. Ding scratched his forehead, and picking no game in particular, said he found Gukesh’s duels with fellow Indian R Praggnanandhaa, impressive. Gukesh had little trouble choosing his favourite game of his opponent (Bai Jinshi vs Ding, Chinese Chess League, 2017). “I think it was his best game,” said Gukesh, as Ding smiled. “As a kid, I really enjoyed it.”
And now, they must find a way to run swords through each other in the match.