I’m no Tarot expert, but I do pull a card every morning, and I enjoy reading about its meaning and what it might signify about the day ahead. On the first day of my first over-the-board chess tournament, I drew The Fool, which immediately brought a smile to my face. “You’ve got that right. What am I even doing here, where I will probably be at or near the bottom of the lowest-rated section? I hate all those people who encouraged me to do this!”
As the graphic shows, The Fool card depicts an utterly carefree young man eagerly setting off on a journey, not noticing that he is about to walk off a cliff. But the card is not a warning; instead it celebrates opportunities and beginnings, urging you to take a leap of faith, whether you think you’re ready or not.
Ok, universe. Here I come.
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The first game was scheduled for 11 am in a time zone one hour earlier than mine. For this extreme lark, that meant a long wait from my wake-up time. It was agonizing. But not as agonizing as the first 10 minutes of the “game,” before my 12-year-old opponent showed up. He immediately went to the official and asked if he could leave the room to power off an electronic device (required). He did, but as soon as he returned that same device made some noises. I assumed—and, part of me, I admit, hoped—that he would have to forfeit the game. The rules about this appear to be quite strict. But the arbiter told him to take 10 minutes off his time and that it was up to us to watch the clock and enforce it. Really? I doubted that time off the clock would hurt the game of this high-rated kid, who would go on to place 5th in the tournament and win $167.
My hand shook each time I raised it to move a piece and write down my move. Before long I was down a minor piece, then two pawns, and so on. But I did hang in there until the 37th move, when I was checkmated.
But I didn’t feel sad, as I had expected. I had gotten something I had wished for since first seeing The Queen’s Gambit—to sit in a (nearly) silent room filled with people playing this marvelous game and studiously recording their moves and those of their opponent. The room was smaller than I expected—my division had only 30 players. But what a diverse crowd it was! Chinese and Indian children were the most numerous, including one who needed to sit on a thick book to reach the board! There was one other adult woman who was perhaps half my age. I think the number of females of all ages was about 10 percent. There were a couple of adult men, including one who was impeccably dressed, in a suit, tie, and suspenders. He turned out to be a software developer from Madison, Wisconsin, and I was paired with him in the second round.
This was my favorite game of the three I played. I didn’t win—he ultimately got a two-pawn advantage—but for the most part it was a long, competitive game with no distractions, except for the two little girls playing next to us, who had a touch-move dispute involving a king.
My third and final game was against another boy. He was punctual but fiddled with a pen/flashlight for the entire time. One time he started blinking the light on and off, until I glared at him. The worst was when he dropped it onto the board and it hit the pieces. I looked over at the arbiter, but I was losing at that point and didn’t want it to seem like I was looking for an excuse for my poor performance.
This whole game was a blunderfest by both sides. I captured one of his rooks early, which was cheering. Fortunately, he didn’t notice that one of mine was hanging for several moves before I rescued it. In the end I opened the door to victory for him by blundering a knight, which he did notice, and it was downhill from there.
Even though I fully expected to lose all my games due to my low rating, my fear had been that the losses might put me on the verge of tears, or worse. Instead, though, I felt happy and almost giggly. It made me laugh to think how shocked the kids I played must have been to find that their opponent was their grandmother’s age. And I had played in an over-the board tournament for the first time! By the second game I no longer trembled when I moved a piece, and my notation was improving.I also began to feel the love for playing over-the-board that I’ve heard expressed by many but hadn’t experienced myself because I have played hundreds of games online and only a few over the board.
My other fears—of falling prey to a gambit and losing in fewer than 10 moves, of being the first game in the room to finish, of blundering my queen, of not realizing when I was in check—proved to be unfounded. Plus, I still loved chess and looked forward to analyzing the games and going over them with my coach. I had also had the privilege of being an advocate for the Women in Chess Foundation during the event. I introduced myself and the organization to the tournament personnel and let them know that I was available to any female player who expressed a need for support due to misconduct. Fortunately, no one did.
Regardless of the outcome, I know that my next tournament will be a much better experience, especially without all of the first-time baggage. I can’t wait!
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