Eraclides versus the Masters Part 2 ~ Slam-Dunked by Greg Hjorth
Hi Pilgrims,
Here is another game against a master level player. This time it’s against International Master Greg Hjorth.
When I played him in 1986, he was quite young, still a student at University, and already a very strong player. He had represented Australia in youth tournaments and was rated in the top three or four players in the country.
Greg had, and probably still has, a very relaxed style. He never seems to rush his moves, which seem simple and direct. Invariably they are positionally sound, particularly when contrasted to a player at my level. Somehow, during the course of a game, his opponents seem to self destruct and that’s exactly what I did in the game below.
In a lot of open tournaments, they use what is called an ‘accelerated draw’ when matching players. Someone rules a line through the median point of chess players listed by rating level; who-plays-whom in the first two rounds is determined by the principle of matching the top-half (the strongest players) against the bottom-half (the weaker players). The idea is to get the strongest players out in front so they can then be matched or paired in further rounds by points scored as well as ratings.
The assumption is that the strongest players will most likely win their first two round games and form a glamorous subgroup within the general tournament participants, the rest of us ‘hoi poloi’. Great for the onlookers, not so good if you are in the bottom half of the draw, because you end up on minus two points before you get to play someone remotely close to your rating level. Sometimes a weak player manages to get a point or two and join the elite group in the tourney, but most times he or she just gets hammered. And to think you paid to enter the tournament!
As you can tell, I was invariably in the bottom half and generally went into the third round on minus two.
So, in this tournament, in the first round, I was matched against the number one player of the top-half, International Master Greg Hjorth. He was rated 2390. I was rated 1471. I have to confess, that if the fascists who organise such tourneys select a strong player for me to play, I would rather it was someone really strong and even famous. Then I could say I was beaten by somebody, rather than another nobody who just happens to be a few rating points on the other half of the dividing line. And maybe I could learn something. Was I nervous? Not really. What’s wrong with conceding 900 rating points in a slam-bang weekender?
What was the first thing I learned in playing against this level of opponent? One of the characteristics of Greg’s play was speed. He played very quickly, and not just against a bunny like me, but against anyone. He knew intuitively the right squares to place his pawns and pieces. One of the dangers you face against someone much faster than you is being tempted to speed up your play to match theirs. Don’t do it!
In order to avoid falling in with your opponent’s speed of play, you may need the willpower of a Botvinnik. The old Bot was definitely on the slow side in playing speed, and even avoided lightning games with the lame excuse that it would make him superficial in normal time games. I think he just did not fancy getting duffed up by lesser players who could play quickly.
I know it’s hard, but you must MAINTAIN YOUR NATURAL PLAYING TEMPO. Sorry to shout, but the point has to be made. You must not speed up. Equally important, you must not slow down too much in compensation or to get your nerves under control. If you have a way of playing which gets you good results and manages the clock effectively, then try and stick to it. Ignore the clock pounder on the other side.
To underscore this point, here’s a story about what happened to me in a club game. I once faced a schmuck who played a normal time game at blitz speed. He would slam down the pieces after his moves, belt the clock, and glare at me while I thought. I was less experienced back then and should have given him The Three Stooges ‘two-fingered eye poke’, for daring to disturb my strategic ruminations. You can probably tell I did not like this schmuck, I mean fellow. I concentrated on my play and slowed right down to annoy him in return. You want speed? I’ll give you glacial slowness and hope your arteries are hardening. Alas I overcompensated. I slowed down too much, and although I got ahead in material and had a winning position, I lost on time. So I became the schmuck in the end.
Greg Hjorth was a very fast player, but throughout our game he was polite and a fine sportsman. He did not even get up disdainfully from the board, although I am sure he was often bored as I tried to get my fossilized neurons to synapse with each other. I played too quickly at the start of the game and then slowed right down when I saw I had made things difficult for myself. I managed to play reasonably well and could have done a lot better but by then I was in my all too familiar time trouble. I went from too fast to dead slow.
When I arrived at the table, Greg Hjorth was already sitting down, reading a book on philosophy. He was demure, soft featured, with an ersatz pageboy haircut. He looked very young. We shook hands, and I resisted the temptation to improve my playing chances by dislocating his shoulder. I’m not that kind of player.
He noted my surname and asked whether it bore any relationship to the surname of the ancient Greek philosopher, Heraclitus. Coincidentally, I had an honours degree in philosophy, and was able to explain to the young master that my surname was of Greek-Cypriot origin and meant ‘son of Hercules’. You know how we Greeks love our classical heritage, and wasn’t the old Hercules some kind of philosopher as well? At any rate, I lacked both my namesake’s physical and chess playing strength. You didn’t know Hercules played chess? Let me set you straight, the ancient Greeks invented chess, or rather their mythical heroes did. The Trojan War as recounted by Homer, was actually just an allegorical account of the great chess match between the top clubs of Mycenae and Troy. At stake was which club would get Helen - an indifferent player with great knockers. Even back then, it was hard to get women to join chess clubs.
Greg Hjorth is now a mathematics professor somewhere in the United States, I think in California, and plays in chess tournaments in the USA. If you’re reading this Greg, ‘Hi from Oz’, and while Eraclides is not a lineal descendant of Heraclitus, the Eraclides playing style may suggest some kind of connection. It’s all those disconnected fragments that fall short of coherence.
Victorian Chess Association Daylight Weekender March 14 to 16, 1986
Greg Hjorth IM (2390) VERSUS George Eraclides (1471)
1. Nf3 e6!?
2. g3 Nc6?!
Hjorth used to play the Catalan formation against almost anything. I was trying to get out of the books early and although my moves look odd, the position I reach is not as bad as it looks. Thank you Nimzovich.
3. Bg2 d5
4. 0-0 Nf6
5. d4 Be7
6. c4 0-0
7. b3 b6
8. Nc3 Bb2
Seems pointless, as Hjorth now just closes the diagonal, but how do you develop the Queen’s Bishop otherwise in this position? Or maybe it’s all about overprotecting d5. Thank you Nimzovich.
9. cxd5 exd5
10. Bg5 Ne4
Best under the circumstances. An outpost. Thank you Nimzovich.
11. Bxe7 Nxe7
At least Black is trying to play actively instead of just sitting back waiting for the master player to unleash his genius.
12. Qc2 Nxc3?!
Hjorth does not want to ‘release’ the b7 Bishop’s diagonal by exchanging on e4 but did Black have to capture on c3? A clamp on the centre may have been tried with 12...f5. I let Nimzovich down by turning away from central ideas.
13. Qxc3 Nf5?
Hjorth is going to pummel my c7 so why didn’t I try Rac8 intending c5, or even Ng6? I was playing too fast for my own good (see introductory warnings above).
14. Ne5 Qd6
15. Rac1 f6?!
We now get a series of exchanges and I start to play too slowly because of the complications my play had generated. I lose a Pawn and get into my regular time trouble (see introductory warnings above).
16. Qxc7 Qxc7
17. Rxc7 fxe5
18. Rxb7 Nxd4
19. Bxd5+ Kh8
20. e3
The discovered skewer of the Rook at a8 leads to nought.
20..............Rad8
21. Be4!?
If 21. e4 Nf3+ Black can play his Rook to f6 and perhaps generate counterplay.
21..............Nk7+
22. Kg2!?
He wants to be nearer the centre for the ending and also avoid a back rank check at some stage. See notes at move 26 below.
22................Nc3
23. Bf3 Nxa2
I could have tried e4 but after Bg4 I could not see a clear and strong line. In time trouble I play the check.
24. Rxa7 Rd2
25. Rd1 Rb2?!
I was nervous about the possibilities of a back rank mate but 25...Rxd1
26. Bxd1 Nc3 was better, although the Knight’s flightiness will not prevent a lost ending.
26. Rc7
What was it Nimzovich said about the seventh rank? Absolutely fabulous. Could I now have played 26...Rxb3? If I move my Rook from it’s seventh rank and a possible double attack on f2, Hjorth plays 27. Rdd7.
26 .............Re1?
So I oblige with a silly move in time trouble. Instead 26...e4 was worth a try:
27. Bxe4 Rfxf2+ 28. Kh3 Rxh2+ 29. Kg4 h5+ 30. Kg5 Rhd2 is a more noble way to go down.
27. Rdd7 e4?
In time trouble I thought I still had my Rook on f8. Daft play with more daftness to come as I get slammed for the count.
28. Bxe4 Rg8
29. Bd5 h3
30. Rxg7! Rxg7
31. Rc8+ Kh2
32. Be4+ Rg6
33. Rc7+ Kg1
34. Bxg6 Rxb3??
35. Bf7+ Resigns
Black saves his best move for last. Goodnight Irene.
If I had a little more time at the end or used a bit more time at the start - in other words played to my own tempo - perhaps I could have done more with a reasonable position (see note at move 12).
But equally, if I was a good player, or played at master level, or if the sea breezes had not irritated my sinuses (the Tarrasch excuse for losing to Lasker) then I would not have lost.
In the counterfactual world where ‘maybe’ is reality, we are all world champions. Hooray!
Here is another game against a master level player. This time it’s against International Master Greg Hjorth.
When I played him in 1986, he was quite young, still a student at University, and already a very strong player. He had represented Australia in youth tournaments and was rated in the top three or four players in the country.
Greg had, and probably still has, a very relaxed style. He never seems to rush his moves, which seem simple and direct. Invariably they are positionally sound, particularly when contrasted to a player at my level. Somehow, during the course of a game, his opponents seem to self destruct and that’s exactly what I did in the game below.
In a lot of open tournaments, they use what is called an ‘accelerated draw’ when matching players. Someone rules a line through the median point of chess players listed by rating level; who-plays-whom in the first two rounds is determined by the principle of matching the top-half (the strongest players) against the bottom-half (the weaker players). The idea is to get the strongest players out in front so they can then be matched or paired in further rounds by points scored as well as ratings.
The assumption is that the strongest players will most likely win their first two round games and form a glamorous subgroup within the general tournament participants, the rest of us ‘hoi poloi’. Great for the onlookers, not so good if you are in the bottom half of the draw, because you end up on minus two points before you get to play someone remotely close to your rating level. Sometimes a weak player manages to get a point or two and join the elite group in the tourney, but most times he or she just gets hammered. And to think you paid to enter the tournament!
As you can tell, I was invariably in the bottom half and generally went into the third round on minus two.
So, in this tournament, in the first round, I was matched against the number one player of the top-half, International Master Greg Hjorth. He was rated 2390. I was rated 1471. I have to confess, that if the fascists who organise such tourneys select a strong player for me to play, I would rather it was someone really strong and even famous. Then I could say I was beaten by somebody, rather than another nobody who just happens to be a few rating points on the other half of the dividing line. And maybe I could learn something. Was I nervous? Not really. What’s wrong with conceding 900 rating points in a slam-bang weekender?
What was the first thing I learned in playing against this level of opponent? One of the characteristics of Greg’s play was speed. He played very quickly, and not just against a bunny like me, but against anyone. He knew intuitively the right squares to place his pawns and pieces. One of the dangers you face against someone much faster than you is being tempted to speed up your play to match theirs. Don’t do it!
In order to avoid falling in with your opponent’s speed of play, you may need the willpower of a Botvinnik. The old Bot was definitely on the slow side in playing speed, and even avoided lightning games with the lame excuse that it would make him superficial in normal time games. I think he just did not fancy getting duffed up by lesser players who could play quickly.
I know it’s hard, but you must MAINTAIN YOUR NATURAL PLAYING TEMPO. Sorry to shout, but the point has to be made. You must not speed up. Equally important, you must not slow down too much in compensation or to get your nerves under control. If you have a way of playing which gets you good results and manages the clock effectively, then try and stick to it. Ignore the clock pounder on the other side.
To underscore this point, here’s a story about what happened to me in a club game. I once faced a schmuck who played a normal time game at blitz speed. He would slam down the pieces after his moves, belt the clock, and glare at me while I thought. I was less experienced back then and should have given him The Three Stooges ‘two-fingered eye poke’, for daring to disturb my strategic ruminations. You can probably tell I did not like this schmuck, I mean fellow. I concentrated on my play and slowed right down to annoy him in return. You want speed? I’ll give you glacial slowness and hope your arteries are hardening. Alas I overcompensated. I slowed down too much, and although I got ahead in material and had a winning position, I lost on time. So I became the schmuck in the end.
Greg Hjorth was a very fast player, but throughout our game he was polite and a fine sportsman. He did not even get up disdainfully from the board, although I am sure he was often bored as I tried to get my fossilized neurons to synapse with each other. I played too quickly at the start of the game and then slowed right down when I saw I had made things difficult for myself. I managed to play reasonably well and could have done a lot better but by then I was in my all too familiar time trouble. I went from too fast to dead slow.
When I arrived at the table, Greg Hjorth was already sitting down, reading a book on philosophy. He was demure, soft featured, with an ersatz pageboy haircut. He looked very young. We shook hands, and I resisted the temptation to improve my playing chances by dislocating his shoulder. I’m not that kind of player.
He noted my surname and asked whether it bore any relationship to the surname of the ancient Greek philosopher, Heraclitus. Coincidentally, I had an honours degree in philosophy, and was able to explain to the young master that my surname was of Greek-Cypriot origin and meant ‘son of Hercules’. You know how we Greeks love our classical heritage, and wasn’t the old Hercules some kind of philosopher as well? At any rate, I lacked both my namesake’s physical and chess playing strength. You didn’t know Hercules played chess? Let me set you straight, the ancient Greeks invented chess, or rather their mythical heroes did. The Trojan War as recounted by Homer, was actually just an allegorical account of the great chess match between the top clubs of Mycenae and Troy. At stake was which club would get Helen - an indifferent player with great knockers. Even back then, it was hard to get women to join chess clubs.
Greg Hjorth is now a mathematics professor somewhere in the United States, I think in California, and plays in chess tournaments in the USA. If you’re reading this Greg, ‘Hi from Oz’, and while Eraclides is not a lineal descendant of Heraclitus, the Eraclides playing style may suggest some kind of connection. It’s all those disconnected fragments that fall short of coherence.
Victorian Chess Association Daylight Weekender March 14 to 16, 1986
Greg Hjorth IM (2390) VERSUS George Eraclides (1471)
1. Nf3 e6!?
2. g3 Nc6?!
Hjorth used to play the Catalan formation against almost anything. I was trying to get out of the books early and although my moves look odd, the position I reach is not as bad as it looks. Thank you Nimzovich.
3. Bg2 d5
4. 0-0 Nf6
5. d4 Be7
6. c4 0-0
7. b3 b6
8. Nc3 Bb2
Seems pointless, as Hjorth now just closes the diagonal, but how do you develop the Queen’s Bishop otherwise in this position? Or maybe it’s all about overprotecting d5. Thank you Nimzovich.
9. cxd5 exd5
10. Bg5 Ne4
Best under the circumstances. An outpost. Thank you Nimzovich.
11. Bxe7 Nxe7
At least Black is trying to play actively instead of just sitting back waiting for the master player to unleash his genius.
12. Qc2 Nxc3?!
Hjorth does not want to ‘release’ the b7 Bishop’s diagonal by exchanging on e4 but did Black have to capture on c3? A clamp on the centre may have been tried with 12...f5. I let Nimzovich down by turning away from central ideas.
13. Qxc3 Nf5?
Hjorth is going to pummel my c7 so why didn’t I try Rac8 intending c5, or even Ng6? I was playing too fast for my own good (see introductory warnings above).
14. Ne5 Qd6
15. Rac1 f6?!
We now get a series of exchanges and I start to play too slowly because of the complications my play had generated. I lose a Pawn and get into my regular time trouble (see introductory warnings above).
16. Qxc7 Qxc7
17. Rxc7 fxe5
18. Rxb7 Nxd4
19. Bxd5+ Kh8
20. e3
The discovered skewer of the Rook at a8 leads to nought.
20..............Rad8
21. Be4!?
If 21. e4 Nf3+ Black can play his Rook to f6 and perhaps generate counterplay.
21..............Nk7+
22. Kg2!?
He wants to be nearer the centre for the ending and also avoid a back rank check at some stage. See notes at move 26 below.
22................Nc3
23. Bf3 Nxa2
I could have tried e4 but after Bg4 I could not see a clear and strong line. In time trouble I play the check.
24. Rxa7 Rd2
25. Rd1 Rb2?!
I was nervous about the possibilities of a back rank mate but 25...Rxd1
26. Bxd1 Nc3 was better, although the Knight’s flightiness will not prevent a lost ending.
26. Rc7
What was it Nimzovich said about the seventh rank? Absolutely fabulous. Could I now have played 26...Rxb3? If I move my Rook from it’s seventh rank and a possible double attack on f2, Hjorth plays 27. Rdd7.
26 .............Re1?
So I oblige with a silly move in time trouble. Instead 26...e4 was worth a try:
27. Bxe4 Rfxf2+ 28. Kh3 Rxh2+ 29. Kg4 h5+ 30. Kg5 Rhd2 is a more noble way to go down.
27. Rdd7 e4?
In time trouble I thought I still had my Rook on f8. Daft play with more daftness to come as I get slammed for the count.
28. Bxe4 Rg8
29. Bd5 h3
30. Rxg7! Rxg7
31. Rc8+ Kh2
32. Be4+ Rg6
33. Rc7+ Kg1
34. Bxg6 Rxb3??
35. Bf7+ Resigns
Black saves his best move for last. Goodnight Irene.
If I had a little more time at the end or used a bit more time at the start - in other words played to my own tempo - perhaps I could have done more with a reasonable position (see note at move 12).
But equally, if I was a good player, or played at master level, or if the sea breezes had not irritated my sinuses (the Tarrasch excuse for losing to Lasker) then I would not have lost.
In the counterfactual world where ‘maybe’ is reality, we are all world champions. Hooray!
posted by George Eraclides at 8:57 PM
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