Friday, 10 July 2015

Chess Detective

Now I'm retired from full-time chess magazine editing, I can indulge my various passions (family history, local history, photography, guitar playing, etc) with a clear conscience. And also pay some attention to Britbase, the British chess game archive which I founded nearly 20 years ago.

If I were asked to choose my favourite pastime, I think I would have to summarise it as "looking things up". This encompasses family history, chess database work, and one or two other things. It dates well before the advent of the internet (I used to spend days in musty records offices, tracing ancestors in ledgers back in the 1980s and 1990s, long before Google). There's nothing I like better than browsing through the index at the back of a book - almost any book - or trying to discover arcane facts on the internet. I wouldn't dignify it with the word "research" since it tends to be unstructured and serendipitous, but it occasionally leads me to doing something useful, almost by accident.

I think this love of looking things up dates back to my discovery of literacy. I can't quite remember how or when I learnt to read, but I do remember the beginnings of my chess literacy. It was when I opened a book called Chess for Children by Raymond Bott and Stanley Morrison, probably around 1961 when I was eight. I had already been initiated into chess, thanks to my elder brother, so I didn't really need all the stuff about how the pieces moved but I was amazed to learn from the book that a chess game could be written down. That really was a light bulb moment for me. The thought that games could be recorded and played back at one's leisure greatly impressed me. I'm still not entirely sure why but it was a revelation. It still is. Imagine if one could watch historic football or cricket matches, from a hundred years ago, in full colour and all-round stereo sound - that's how it feels for me to play through some ancient chess game, witnessing the exact moves on the board that Staunton, Morphy or Steinitz played. Fifty years on the sense of wonder still hasn't worn off.

A year or two later, still before I had played in any formal competitions or joined a club, I started writing down my own pitiful chess efforts, as well as cutting and pasting chess columns from newspapers into a sort of scrapbook. We took the Manchester Guardian, so that meant Leonard Barden and his wonderful Saturday column, and also the Sunday Times, for which Hugh Alexander was an equally impressive chess writer. The recording was, if anything, more important to me than the playing, so it was almost in order to have an excuse to write more games down in my scrapbook that I felt the need to start playing competition chess in 1967.

I still have this itch to record chess games, hence my creation of Britbase and my work over the years as a game inputter for various competitions. Of course, there are plenty of other people now engaged worldwide on this important work and I salute their efforts. These days I see myself more as a chess detective and a proof-reader, trying to cudgel the mountains of games being input into some semblance of order. I have to try and keep my tendency to perfectionism in check when I witness games being input and disseminated in industrial quantities, with an inevitably large number of mistakes being made. Rather than lambast sloppy inputters (as I admit I may have done on occasions), I think it is generally better to be constructive, bridle back the criticism and help game inputters in their Sisyphean task.

We shouldn't be too surprised or shocked that commercial databases are not as accurate as we would like them to be. I know only too well the time pressures that game inputters are under to get games digitised to accompany press reports and website publicity. And once a given day's pile of scoresheets have been carted away to make room for the next batch it is often too late to fix any errors that may have crept in.

The next stage of the process is when games are collated and published on disk to accompany database software. I'm not quite sure how this process is conducted as I have never personally been involved it, but I suspect very little resource is put into it. I would guess ChessBase (or whoever is producing the disk) hire a handful of editors, who then have to trawl the net and otherwise collate four or five million games, standardising tournament and names, adding ratings, etc, etc. I doubt that they tinker very much with the actual moves as recorded but other things tend to go awry: important bits of data (whether a player lost on time or by 'phone death', a note of the source of the game, etc) can be flushed away, and dodgy decisions made as to which Smith, Jones, Garcia or Sokolov was involved.

Part of my self-imposed Britbase role is to go through old UK bulletins, looking for games which are missing completely from commercial and online databases, but also for games which might already have been recorded but are deficient in some important respect (e.g. misattributed, short on data, such as round numbers and dates, or more importantly with wrong moves). I may also generate 'stubs' or 'blanks', i.e. game records showing players, ratings, round number and date, but with no moves or only a brief textual overview of the game. This can be useful for the generation of crosstables, and also prompts future researchers to go looking for the game moves.

Here's a case in point: I came across this game in Mega Database 2014. N.B. please don't add the following to your database as it contains a number of mistakes as it stands:

[Event "Lloyds Bank op"]
[Site "London"]
[Date "1973.??.??"]
[Round "3"]
[White "O'Kelly de Galway, Alberic"]
[Black "Penrose, Jonathan"]
[Result "1-0"]
[ECO "A56"]
[PlyCount "73"]
[EventDate "1973.08.??"]
[EventType "swiss"]
[EventRounds "9"]
[EventCountry "ENG"]
[Source "ChessBase"]
[SourceDate "2000.11.22"]

1. d4 Nf6 2. c4 c5 3. d5 e5 4. Nc3 d6 5. e4 Be7 6. Qd3 O-O 7. g3 Na6 8. h4 Nc7
9. a4 Na6 10. Bh3 Nb4 11. Qe2 Bxh3 12. Nxh3 Qd7 13. Kf1 Ne8 14. Kg2 f5 15. exf5
Qxf5 16. Ne4 Nf6 17. Nhg5 h6 18. Nxf6+ Rxf6 19. Ne4 Rf7 20. Ra3 Raf8 21. g4 Qd7
22. g5 Kh7 23. Rg3 Rf5 24. gxh6 g6 25. h5 g5 26. Bxg5 Bxg5 27. Nxg5+ Kxh6 28.
Ne4 Rf4 29. Rg6+ Kh7 30. Ng5+ Kh8 31. Rh6+ Kg8 32. Ne6 R8f6 33. Rxf6 Rxf6 34.
Qg4+ Kh8 35. h6 Rf7 36. Qg7+ Rxg7+ 37. hxg7+ 1-0

I found this one amongst another batch of games attributed to Lloyds Bank op 1973. Which brings me to the first error: there was no Lloyds Bank Masters in 1973 (that wonderful series of tournaments didn't start until 1979). The other games I quickly figured out were played at the Islington weekender in December 1973 (which will be coming to Britbase very soon - my thanks to Richard James for lending this and several other bulletins) but this one clearly had nothing to do with it as nobody called O'Kelly or Penrose took part.

The identity of the white player also made me suspicious. ChessBase had already confused the Belgian GM Alberic O'Kelly de Galway (1911-80) with the English player Rory O'Kelly (born 1950) several times in the 1990s, which I had reported to them and they had fixed a few years ago. It was even possible that Black was someone else - Jonathan has a brother Oliver who is a good player, albeit unlikely to play in London since he is based in Edinburgh. I noted that Jonathan Penrose had never played the Czech Benoni before, but of course players can change their opening repertoire at any time.

My next step was to have a look through old magazines for 1973 but I couldn't find any trace of pairings between Penrose and either O'Kelly. Then I discovered that Ray Keene had annotated the game for Informator 17. Ray's version showed white as Rory O'Kelly, Black as Jonathan Penrose, the occasion simply as "England" and the game moves ending at 31.Rh6+.

The next step was an easy one - contact Ray! The Times' chess columnist responded to my email within minutes and helpfully copied in his Rory O'Kelly who, a few minutes later, contacted me to confirm that he was the player of the white pieces:

"The game was played between myself and Jonathan Penrose in a London League match between Mushrooms and Hampstead on 3rd April 1973. It actually ended 31 Rh6+ which was my sealed move. Penrose resigned without resuming. As I recall I felt confident enough to tell him what I had sealed.
My 6 Qd3 was a TN - probably my only contribution to opening theory. The point was to play h4 and Bh3 without allowing a b5 sacrifice. In this case it also had the fortunate though unintended consequence of tempting my opponent into a very unhelpful excursion with his QN."
So, mystery solved. Here is the game, for your enjoyment, and to allow you to fix the game on the database*. My thanks to Ray and Rory for helping me to solve this mini-mystery.

* To capture the PGN data, click on the c8 square on the board, then cut and paste from the pop-up window

Sunday, 22 September 2013

How Good is Your Chessfriend?

Have you come across the phrase 'chess friend'? Sometimes squidged together as one word to become 'chessfriend'? It is usually seen in the opening line of an email from a desperate chess club official or organiser who is trying to screw some money out of you or get you interested in playing in his grotty little tournament in some sullen hall somewhere (why is it that chess tournament venues so often remind me of Wilfred Owen's poem Strange Meeting?). Or some equally desperate magazine editor hoping you'll buy his wares. Yes, I admit, I've used the term myself.

The question is: does the coined word 'chessfriend' ring true? Can chessplayers ever really be friends with each other? OK - I realise I am laying it on a bit thick with the cynicism here - yes, of course they can. I have many chess friends... I think. But do you ever really forgive your best chess mates for those heart-breaking defeats they inflicted on you decades ago? Or, indeed, are the words of congratulation you offer them when they achieve some huge chess success and you finish on 3/9 really sincere? Be honest: somewhere deep down, underneath the grafted-on civility and rictus smile of the sporting loser, are you absolutely sure there are no vestiges of the appalling brat who used to hurl pieces and/or abuse across the room when he lost? Of course, the vast majority of us grow out of such behaviour when we start playing in public but I am so glad they didn't have camcorders and YouTube when I was a kid.


However, adulthood brings subtler, wittier ways to get your own back on your 'chessfriends'. Here's how revenge was exacted on me. I was at the prize-giving for the 1982 Berks and Bucks Congress (for those unfamiliar with English geography, that's the counties of Berkshire and Buckinghamshire - we provincials always abbreviate the name of our native county). I was feeling pretty pleased with myself (the adjective 'smug' would not be inappropriate), having finished a close third behind a couple of IMs in the main event. I was getting ready to step up to receive my cheque (a princely £50) from the guest of honour - who, coincidentally, was one of the two IMs who finished ahead of me, namely William Hartston.

Naturally I wanted this massive sporting achievement to be recorded for posterity and had brought my camera. When my time came to go up onto the stage to receive the cheque and acknowledge the rapturous applause of the audience, I handed the camera to my best chessfriend to take my picture. Poor chap, he had finished nowhere in the tournament, but he seemed more than happy to help out with the photography and doubtless added some kind words of congratulation on my success, being the good and true chessfriend that he is. By the same token, I've no doubt I passed on my sincerest, heartfelt commiserations to him, wishing him 'better luck next time, old man'.


A week or so later I collected the photos from Boots. At first sight they seemed perfectly fine. It was only later when I showed them to the same chessfriend - and he collapsed laughing - that I realise I'd had the Mickey Adams well and truly taken out of me. Ten out of ten to him for his ingenuity and ability to frame a photo. In the immortal words of Michael Bates as Ranji Ram in the old British sitcom It Ain't Half Hot, Mum, "it is serving me right for being clever dickie."

Here's the photo (only native speakers of British English, and possibly Aussies and Kiwis, are likely to get the joke)...

John Saunders (left) receiving a prize from William Hartston at the 1982 Berks and Bucks Chess Congress. But the photograph doesn't really need a second caption, does it?

Monday, 26 August 2013

BritBase is Back!

Yes, BritBase is back. The national chess game database which I started in 1997, that is (just in case you had never heard of it). is the address.

BritBase Home Page - Still crazily keying games after all these years...

Actually, it's never been away - it just sat there, gathering dust for a year or two, as I busied myself editing chess magazines. But now I'm retired (apart from some freelance writing, tournament report-writing, translating, etc), I'm hoping to have a bit more time to devote to what was one of my first chess projects as an amateur chess worker before I went professional.

In the meantime chess and the dissemination of chess info has continued to develop at an amazing rate online, and I am no longer sure that there is much need for BritBase to keep up with contemporary British tournaments anyway. The game scores from current tournaments find their way to consumers, usually in a prompt and orderly fashion, via a multiplicity of web sources. So I'm really focusing my attention on past tournaments which have been yet to find their way from obscure bulletins and other sources onto digital media. That said, I'm happy to take delivery of files of tournament games played in the here and now, particularly if the sender feels that it is a good way to 'get them out there'.

If you have files you want to share, or want to get in touch to discuss any aspect of this, you can comment here on my blog. (Or send an email to 'john' at the URL address you see further up the page.)

To keep track of BritBase progress (or lack of it), click on the What's New page here.

Saturday, 25 May 2013

What Did We Miss? (Solution)

Saunders - Staples
London League 1979

White to play

Here's the answer to my poser from yesterday. You'll recall that the game went 22 Ng3 Bg6, and I asked you what both players had missed.

A couple of people on Twitter suggested 22...Nxh3+ after the move played (22 Ng3) and it's a very logical try. However, this is an example of pattern recognition leading us astray. I can't recall what I was thinking about when I played 22 Ng3 but I expect I also looked at 22...Nxh3+ and decided my move was worth the risk as there is no immediate mate on the horizon. After 23 gxh3 Qxh3 24 Nxh5 Qxh5 25 Bd1! it is not at all obvious how Black prosecutes his attack.

But instead of 22...Nxh3+, Black has the surprising 22...Bf3!! which turns out to be unanswerable. White cannot take with the queen because of 23...Nxh3+ discovering an attack on the queen, while capturing with the pawn loses to 23...Qxh3 and once again White has to surrender his queen to stop mate.

Those are the main tactics but what can White do if he can't capture? The g2 pawn will fall next move and with it all remaining hope of defending the kingside. White's position collapses like a house of cards.

In retrospect I can only wish that my opponent had played it so that I could have resigned immediately and accompanied him across the road to the Old King Lud pub across the road from the (then) London League venue at St Brides' Institute in order to enjoy extra drinking time for our post-mortem session (I'm sure we ended up there anyway but pubs closed at ludicrously early hours in those days).

Bf3, to win the g2 pawn, is quite an unusual motif, and what made it harder to see was the distraction of a more familiar idea which needed analysing. I'll have some more examples from my old scorebooks very soon.

Friday, 24 May 2013

What Did We Miss?

Saunders - Staples
London League 1979

White to play

I was browsing some of my old games recently and came upon this one. I was White, with a positionally poor game. I decided I needed to do something about my vulnerable kingside and played 22 Ng3, to which my opponent replied 22...Bg6 to preserve his useful bishop.

Before long I got into time trouble, blundered my d-pawn and eventually lost. But what had both players missed in this sequence? Answer tomorrow.

Monday, 15 April 2013

Sunday, 7 April 2013

Nice Finish from Gawain Jones in the Bundesliga

The German Chess Bundesliga (not to be confused with the football league of the same name) provides a feast of chess entertainment, thanks to the rather splendid software interface they use to broadcast the games (which is now used for other major events, notable the FIDE Candidates' Tournament and the Tradewise Gibraltar Masters). And, of course, it is notable for the excellence of the players who take part in it. Former world champion Anatoly Karpov was there today, drawing comfortably with recent championship candidate Peter Svidler.

Here's the link to today's live action:

Most of England's active GMs play in this event and a game played in today's 15th round by GM Gawain Jones featured a very nice finish. I was a bit sorry to see that German GM Sebastian Siebrecht was the victim as he is a very nice guy whom I always look forward to meeting on the chess circuit but we all have to take our turn at being on the wrong side of a brilliancy.

Gawain Jones (left) and Sebastian Siebrecht