Until I began following chess Twitter and listening to chess podcasts, the word “tilt” only meant “on a slant” to me. From the contexts in which I was seeing it used now, I realized it had to do with losing, but the Urban dictionary said there was more to it:
. . . an emotional state when doing the exact same activity over and over produces negative results. It’s an emotional breakdown and frustration of your hard work not resulting in the success that you crave so desperately. When you or someone is in a tilt state of mind, the best thing to do is take a break from that activity and try not to think about it as much.
I am there. I was within striking distance of an all-time-high rating of 600 (I know, not a big deal to most of you, but. . .) at the end of last month. Since then, I have engaged a new teacher—a true coach, this time. I used to wonder what the difference was between a chess teacher and a chess coach, and now I know. My new coach is working for me all the time. All. The. Time. I can send a What’s App message about any aspect of my chess and know I will receive a thoughtful answer shortly. He is very conversant with the chess literature and chess videos, which enabled him to create a study plan perfectly tailored to my needs. I should probably be messaging him instead of writing this (actually, before censoring it, my husband suggested I send the original draft of this piece to him and to my [non-chess] therapist.) But I don’t want to come off as horribly needy in our first few weeks of work. It will just seem like I am asking him to say that I can and will get better. No doubt I have already transmitted the need for that kind of reassurance anyway. The lifetime good student in me, who managed to attain three graduate degrees, just wants to get better, partly to please him, and does not want to require any hand holding.
As long as I am still enjoying it, the only reason I would ever quit chess is if I thought I could not improve and was still at such a low level that it was hard to find decent opponents. I’m 64, so I do think I should be on the lookout for that kind of plateau. But from here, I feel that if I could just get to say, 800, I would keep at it, even if my rating never increased beyond three digits. I say that because I have a lot of experience playing strangers on chess.com who rate between 400 and 600. Many of them attempt Scholar’s Mate or other early tricks and tend to resign when their trick fails and they have almost inevitably blundered their queen. Those games get old after a while. The proportion of such tricks seems to go down somewhat above the 500 rating level, leading me to hope that it will evaporate entirely as one ascends. (I should say that I have not met many such tricksters on lichess.com, but it is hard to get a slower time control there in the lowly ranges.)
And speaking of the lowly ranges, one thing that makes tilting harder is that I don’t see many chess improvers below 800 tweeting, blogging, or otherwise making their existence known. The wonderful people whose content I devour via chess Twitter and podcasts all appear to have high ratings. Yes, there are adult improver podcasts, but they have usually improved to a level that I can only dream of, and not much lip service is paid to their presumably brief stays in the sub-four-digit rating band.
The Urban dictionary advice above notwithstanding, I do not intend to take a break from my pursuit of chess mediocrity. In addition, I should fully disclose that my coach has told me that all of the wonderful information he has been imparting to me in these early weeks may be causing my tilt. Yes, you read that right. In other words, I may be hyperfocusing on certain aspects of the game (and heaven knows, there are many) to the complete exclusion of others while I assimilate new knowledge. I can only hope that he is right.
[Image Credit: Captain Raju]