I splurged on a spectator ticket for the World Rapid and Blitz Tournament in New York!
I chose to attend on the last day, December 31, thinking that the final games would be the most exciting. But as you have probably heard, Magnus Carlsen did away with the excitement factor when it suited him, deciding–after three draws in overtime–that a “co-championship” with his opponent, Ian Nepomniachtchi, was the way to go. My ticket entitled me to attend the closing ceremony, but I skipped it: having watched five hours of exciting chess that was suddenly truncated for no immediately apparent reason, I was in no mood to celebrate the co-champions in the Open section. As for the Women’s section, I wouldn’t have minded seeing Ju Wenjun feted for a well-played match that went to its natural conclusion. She and her opponent in the final, Lei Tingjie, played to five straight draws, until Ju Wenjun finally won the second overtime game.
Despite the unsatisfactory conclusion to the Open section, I enjoyed the day overall, although the spectator experience was unlike what I had seen in videos of some other tournaments (think the Speed Chess Championship in Paris, for example), in which the audience sits in a plush-looking auditorium with the players on a stage in a soundproofed area.
I said above that I had splurged, but my “hospitality” ticket was in the next category down from VIP. I spent most of my time on the second floor, one level above the action. I had discovered that when I was on the playing level, behind the velvet rope, it was exciting, but I couldn’t quite make out what was happening on the chessboards. The second floor had a balcony that overlooked the play. I watched the first games from there, and words cannot convey how exciting it was to see nearly all of today’s super grandmasters and other top players in one place. The last day was a good choice in that the women had played in a building across the street until then, but for the finals they were playing alongside the men, with the boards set up alternating by gender. I still couldn’t see what was happening on the boards from the balcony, though, so I went in search of an alternative.
Earlier I had noticed a space labeled Commentary Room. The door was ajar, and the security person guarding it said I could go in. There were GM Maurice Ashley and GM Evgenij Miroshnichenko commentating! I sat in the front row of chairs for almost five hours, with a perfect sight line to the computer screen that was showing the action. At no time were there more than five other spectators in the room. My seat was directly across from GM Ashley, sitting only about six feet away, and our eyes met more than once. I was planning what I would say to him and how I would ask for his autograph during a break, but they never took one. For the most part, there wasn’t enough time for the commentators to do so between games, but even when there was a decent interval, they stayed put and continued to talk. They even interviewed a special guest during one of the breaks, Neil deGrasse Tyson, which was an utterly unanticipated thrill, especially from my front-row seat. GM Vishy Anand was sitting several rows behind me for part of the time, and on my way out for a break our eyes met as well. Were people wondering who this grey-haired woman was and what she was doing there?
GM Ashley did most of the commentating, and although I had already become a great admirer of his when I saw how he handled the task of emceeing the World Chess Championship, I have even more respect and appreciation for his work after my afternoon of intense exposure to it. In particular, he always chose to focus on the most interesting games, regardless of who was playing, rather than just default to the marquee matchups. Also, I loved his reaction to Magnus’ decision not to finish the tournament. We all saw Magnus start talking to Nepo after their third draw in overtime. The first assumption was that they were discussing the game, but then that didn’t seem to be the case. Everyone was puzzled, and then GM Ashley said that he would contact someone on the playing floor to find out what the story was. After he had listened intently on his earbud for a time, his normally impassive face clouded over, and then he relayed the news of the co-championship to us, his expression morphing into that of someone who had just eaten a lemon. That is the moment of the event that has stayed with me the most.
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