What Chess Can Teach You About Luck
Even games of skill depend upon opportunity
At face value, there is no luck in chess. There are no random factors beyond our control; no dice, no card shuffle, no relevant weather conditions, no basketballs tremulously skirting the rim of the basket or tennis balls scuffing the top of the net and landing inexplicably on one side rather than the other.
Most chess players think our game is resolutely a game of skill. We are in control of events just as much as our opponent is, but there are no outside factors to hope for—or to blame. Norwegian player Jim Loy captures our playful determination to take responsibility for our plight on the board: “There is luck in chess. My opponent was lucky that he was playing against an idiot.”
I have been a chess grandmaster for 20 years. In my experience, there actually is luck in chess; it’s just deeper than we usually think of it. Let me illustrate with an example.
In the summer of 2006, at the British Chess Championship in Swansea, Wales, on the eve of the final round, I was returning by bus to my hotel, having fought my way back into contention with three straight wins. We were playing with a Swiss tournament format, where the winner is determined from points accrued over the course of multiple games. I was paired with grandmaster Jonathan Parker, a friendly rival since childhood. We were due to play the following day, and we both had 7.5 points from 10 games. I had been the British champion for two years. At stake were the title and the cash prizes.
If the game was drawn, as it can be simply when the players agree to that result, we were guaranteed a good financial outcome of at least £5,000 — at the time, equivalent to more than $9,000 — which is a big payday for most professional players. That would allow us to compete for more money and the title in a playoff.
“There is luck in chess. My opponent was lucky that he was playing against an idiot.”
The last round in a chess event is like decisive moments in any sphere of life when the significance of whatever we are caught up in suddenly becomes palpable. Losing when it really matters leaves a bitter taste, but that year, I realized that…
