From Columbus to Capablanca: the Hispanic contribution to chess

Leonardo di Bona defeats Ruy Lopez at chess in the court of Spain (around 1575) by Luigi Mussini (1883)
Last Sunday Spain won the finals of two major physical sports: tennis at Wimbledon and the European Nations football in Berlin — a unique achievement for any country on the same day. So it is worth also celebrating the history of the major mental sport, namely chess, in Spain. In particular, we should pay tribute to that country’s role in helping to establish the new chess, more or less the game we play now.
First, one might ask why the ancient piece known as the Vizier metamorphosed during the late 15th century into a Queen. The probable answer is that, as chess moved westward, the pieces gradually took on the aspect of a royal European court, where Queens tended to be much more significant than in the more anonymous regal harems of Islamic lands. The new Queen was so devastating, compared with the older version, that some referred to it as chess a la rabiatta, or mad chess.
It has been variously speculated that the new powers of the Queen owed something to the example of powerful female rulers, such as Isabella of Castile, Queen Elizabeth
I
, Marie de Medici or Margaret of Parma, Vice Regent of the Spanish Netherlands on behalf of her brother, Philip II, of Armada fame.
Many commentators have pointed to Isabella in particular as the inspiration for the new powers of the Queen
. This was
an assertion supported by the late, great
International Master
Mike Basman
. He
wrote to me that there is a candidate for the inspiration and rapid popularisation of modern chess (two different concerns) in the influence of the mighty Queen Isabella of Spain
. She
performed the amazing feat for her day of marrying the man of her choice,
thereby
uniting Spain, and even
ruled
the new kingdom in equipollency with her husband Ferdinand of Aragon. And all this while producing several children and despatching Columbus to discover America
.
Sadly, this attractively romantic fable does not fully hold up, since the dates do not fit. The new chess was established long before the heyday of these celebrated female potentates. Indeed, the Queen piece was already known and depicted as such in Viking sets from centuries beforehand, including the Isle of Lewis morse (walrus ivory) pieces. What is almost certainly true is that the examples of the flesh and blood queens, especially Isabella, may have reinforced the status of the newly powerful Queen piece.
Far more likely is it that the reconstructed Queen represented the introduction of distance weapons on the battlefield, such as the great cannon of the Hungarian engineer Urban, famously used by Sultan Mehmet the Victorious to demolish the ramparts of Constantinople in 1453. If chess is a game representing real warfare, then such a game, lacking a piece possessed of long distance firepower, would have seemed hopelessly outdated. Hence the need for a piece with the vast powers conferred on the new style of Queen.
The first Chess Grandmaster — and hence the first mental sportsman, the first genius of mind sports — was the Baghdad chess player As-Suli. It is difficult for Western audiences to grasp that Baghdad, As-Suli’s home city, was once the world capital of chess; indeed it was the premier capital of the world for some time from the 9th century onwards. Baghdad was founded in AD 762 by the Caliph Al-Mansour, who employed 100,000 men to build it. This circular city, with a diameter of 8655 feet (2638 metres) and surrounded by a rampart of no fewer than 360 towers, almost immediately proved to be too small for the burgeoning population.
By the time of the most celebrated Caliph, Haroun al-Raschid, Baghdad had expanded, taking in quarters for commerce and artisans, and by AD 814 it was the world’s largest city. The stupendous growth of Baghdad was a most astonishing global phenomenon. By 814 AD it covered an area approximately 40 square miles (100 km2) – the equivalent of modern-day Paris within the outer boulevards. Baghdad was the dominant city of the world and As-Suli was the multi-talented mind sportsman, poet, politician, and Chess Grandmaster who exemplified the pre-eminent culture of Baghdad at that time. Baghdad dwarfed all other world cities, and in terms of culture, art, scientific investigation and chess, it was the most convincing and powerful testament to the astonishing force and vigour of Islam at that time.
In the 9th and 10th centuries chess was known in the Arabic tongue as Shatranj, and Baghdad was to Shatranj what Moscow became to the modern game – the world capital of chess. Baghdad was a cultured flourishing centre packed with Chess Grandmasters and chess theoreticians, who wrote volume after volume about critical positions and chess opening theory. The main differences between the old version of chess, Shatranj, and chess as we now know it, which was developed during the Renaissance in the 15th century, was that in the old game of Shatranj, a win could be achieved by taking all of your opponent’s pieces, apart from his King. You did not need to force checkmate. The Queen – known as the Vizier – was a comparatively helpless piece, only able to move one square diagonally in each direction, whereas today it is the most powerful piece on the chess board.
Like the modern former World Chess Champion, Garry Kasparov, As-Suli came from an area bordering the Caspian Sea, and as a young man, he travelled to the capital to become the chess favourite of the political leader of his day, the Caliph Al-Muktafi. But in AD 940 As-Suli uttered an indiscreet political comment, and had to flee from Baghdad. He died soon afterwards in Basra at the grand old age of 92.
A chess genius lives on in his published games, studies and puzzles. As-Suli set one puzzle which he described as: “old, very old and extremely difficult to solve. Nobody could solve it or say whether it was a draw or win. In fact there is no man on earth who can solve it if I, As-Suli, have not shown him the solution”. This was his proud boast and it held good until only very recently, when modern Grandmasters armed with computers finally cracked the puzzle.
As-Suli was the strongest player of his time, a composer of chess puzzles, and the author of the first book describing a systematic way of playing Shatranj. For more than 600 years after his death, the highest praise an Arab could bestow on a chess player was to say that he played like As-Suli – he won every chess match that he has known to have contested. As-Suli was a resident at the court of the Caliph where his reputation was that of an excellentconversationalist with immense encyclopaedic knowledge. He owned an enormous library, and wrote many history books as well as his two text books on chess. He was also a great teacher of the game – the next great Arabic player of Shatranj, Al-Lajlaj, was one of his pupils.
As-Suli can be seen as a symbol of the great Islamic culture that flourished in Baghdad, possessing great qualities of mind, thought and intellect at a time when Europe itself was plunged in what used to be known as the Dark Ages and much of the world was in chaos. His was a pinnacle of sophistication and culture not to be attained by others for many centuries.
Now let us jump several centuries to the time of Christopher Columbus (1451–1506).
Intrepid explorer Christopher Columbus was the first to plunge out and forward , more or less at right angles to the coastlines of Europe and Africa, across a vast ocean with uncharted waters. Whereas previous explorers had followed the littoral , when they ventured out to sea, Columbus sailed across the Atlantic in 1492-3 even though he did not know what, if anything, lay ahead.
Columbus, whose name means “the dove, bearer of Christ”, discovered the New World for Spain in 1492. The 15th century is normally termed the Renaissance, with its recovery of ancient Classical knowledge. But that age was also characterised by a new imperative towards fresh ideas in all areas of human endeavour. Take chess, for example. During the 15th century, the surprisingly rapid process had been initiated whereby the game emerged from its slower Arabic form, as practised by As-Suli; suddenly, castling was introduced, pawns gained the privilege of moving two squares forward at their first turn, and the Queen was transformed at a stroke from a highly restricted piece (the Arabic “Vizier”) to a unit of devastating ferocity.
If chess is truly a game of warfare, then, as we have seen, the increased firepower of the Queen surely mirrors the contemporary introduction of artillery as a long-range means of destroying the opposition in the sphere of battlefield technology.
These sudden developments in the game reflect the overall 15th-century dynamic. The increasingly urgent perception of distance, space and perspective which distinguished that period. Indeed, perspective in art, the invention of the telescope and the microscope were parallel developments.
Columbus not only discovered the New World for Europe, he also exported European ideas and ideals there — including chess. A later conquistador, Pizarro, was recorded as teaching chess to the Inca emperor Atahualpa. As was soon seen, at a stroke, Columbus’s discovery suddenly hurled Spain into a perfect position to become a centre for world communication — placed at the junction of the European mainland with trade routes south towards Africa, and now facing a vast new vista across the Atlantic Ocean.
Columbus was born in Genoa, the son of a wool comber. At first he was expected to take up the same trade, but at the age of 14 he went to sea, fought against Tunisian galleys and, around 1470, was shipwrecked off Cape St Vincent. He reached the shores of Portugal by surviving on a wooden plank. By 1474 he had already conceived the idea of sailing to India by travelling westwards, and he was encouraged in this by Toscanelli, an astronomer from Florence.
Meanwhile, Columbus gathered vital experience in his intended profession of becoming a great navigator. He sailed to Iceland, the Cape Verde Islands and Sierra Leone. In 1485, he applied for a patron to finance his intended expedition westwards, in order to reach the East. He approached John II of Portugal, Henry VII of England and the Catholic Queen Isabella of Castile. Over a period of seven years, he was frequently rebuffed; those who had the power to decide whether money was to be spent on such ventures were often traditionally inclined churchmen, emotionally opposed to the notion that the earth might be round. Eventually, in April 1492, King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella of the newly united Spain gave him the green light and, on Friday 3 August 1492, Columbus sailed in command of the Santa Maria, the Pinta and the Nina –three small ships with just 120 explorers on board – his avowed intention to cross the Atlantic Ocean and reach the rich trade of the East by that method.
By Friday 12 October, land was sighted after more than two months of continuous sailing. The land he discovered included an island in what came to be known as the Bahamas, and Cuba and Hispaniola – now known as Haiti. Columbus then set out on the return voyage, arriving back in Spain on 15 March 1493, where he was received with the highest honours.
It is said that Columbus underestimated the size of the globe before he set out and believed he was enroute to Cipangu (Japan), not the New World. Nevertheless, he had the determination, vision, and belief in his own new theory of the world, and the power to convert those in a position of authority to share and back that vision and his single-minded purpose.
Columbus indeed had the courage “to boldly go where no man has gone before”. It is an irony that the continent he encountered — America — was not named after him. It was, in fact, named, erroneously by the influential but misinformed cartographer, Martin Waldseemuller, after a later explorer, born in Florence in the same year as Christopher Columbus, namely Amerigo Vespucci. What truly distinguishes Columbus from all previous maritime explorers is that he did not follow the coastline. Previous seafarers had all sought to travel in correspondence with established continental contours. Not Columbus! He additionally handled his nervous crews so well that they reached their destination, and his trailblazing exploitation of the then-unknown trade winds ensured that he could return safely home.
Although there has been recent speculation about Columbus’s character and the way that he treated native inhabitants, no one can deny his genius, determination and bravery in exploring the uncharted seas.
The very first recorded game of the modern version of chess was played in 1475, less than twenty years before Columbus set out for the New World. The respected website chessgames.com has this to say about the two protagonists in the first ever recorded game of modern chess. The intellectual heirs of As Suli, they were also fully fledged contemporaries of the Admiral of the Ocean Sea, and in one case, a specific financial backer.
Francesco di Castellvi was a lord of several manors in the area of Valencia, Spain. He was an advisor in the Aragonese court of King Ferdinand. He died in Valencia in 1506. He was one of the co-authors of the “Scachs d’amor” (Chess of Love), the Catalan poem which describes the first modern game of chess.
Narciso Vinyoles was born between 1442 and 1447. He died in Valencia in 1517. He was a politician and writer and belonged to a family of lawyers. In 1495, King Ferdinand recommended him for the position of “Justica Criminal”. He spoke Catalan, Castilian, Latin, and Italian. He was married to Brianda de Santangel, niece of a banker who financially supported the first expedition of Christoper Columbus. He was also co-author of the Catalan poem “Scachs d’amor” written around 1475, in which year, the following game was played:
Francesco di Castellvi vs. Narciso Vinyoles
The part played by Madrid in chess also needs to be reinforced. Arguably the first international competition in the new chess, chess a la rabiatta, was fought out in Madrid in 1575. Giovanni Leonardo da Cutri was born in Cutro, Calabria. In 1560, he lost a match to Ruy López in Rome. In 1566-1572, he travelled and played chess in Rome, Genoa, Marseille, and Barcelona. He had played many times against Paolo Boi in Italy and they were regarded as being equal in their chess strength.
Da Cutri won the first known international master gathering in the history of chess in Madrid in 1575, therefore becoming the strongest chess master of the time. The remaining contestants were Boi, Ruy Lopez and Alfonso Ceron. Only fragments survive and the remnants do not seriously challenge the reputation of London 1851 as the first properly regulated and fully recorded international chess tournament. Nevertheless, Madrid 1575 was a significant moment in the development of modern chess as we know it.
In 1533, Atahualpa, supreme ruler of the vast Inca imperium, was surprised, seized and taken prisoner by the Spanish Conquistador Pizarro and his cohort of Hidalgos. This coup took place, even though Pizarro commanded at most 200 troops, while the Incan legions numbered 80,000.
Legend has it that his captors taught Atahualpa how to play chess, using the newly fashionable version, with enhanced powers of the queen and bishop, which was being popularised in Spain around that time. Presumably this pastime helped to occupy those tense few days, while Atahualpa’s minions were collecting sufficient gold to pay for their emperor’s release. One can imagine that extraordinary scene. Droves of Inca menials, hauling sacks of all corrupting gold into their lord’s place of incarceration, a humiliating scenario, eerily predictive of the captivity of Alberich by Wotan in Wagner’s Rheingold, the prostrate Nibelung’s freedom solely contingent on surrendering his entire cache of gold to the treacherous gods of Valhalla.
The primary source referenced for the claim that Atahualpa was taught to play chess by his captors is said to come from the Relación de Inca Atahualpa y de don Francisco Pizarro, a partially lost manuscript, written around 1535 by Juan de Betanzos, a Spanish explorer who accompanied Pizarro on his conquest of the Incas. De Betanzos did, indeed, conduct many interviews with surviving Incas, and ended up marrying a widow of Atahualpa, whom I presume to have been polygamous.
The sad outcome of this legend, whether true or a dramatic fiction, is that learning chess may, ironically, have sealed Atahualpa’s death warrant. Apparently he had suggested a winning move (the rook rather than the knight) in a game he had been watching, between the Conquistadors de Soto and Riquelme, which resulted in the latter losing, when he had expected to win.
According to the narrative, a vote was later taken to decide Atahualpa’s fate, and it was Riquelme who cast the decisive ballot in favour of garrotting the Inca leader.
In any case, one thing is clear. If a small group of heavily outnumbered activists, who, for whatever reason, and by whatever means, can exert sufficient control, then resolve to eradicate a nation’s history, abolish its memories and traditions in order to sabotage its morale, then assassinating the opposing chief, confiscating all its wealth and enslaving the entire population, represents a most effective start to the process.
In spite of Spain’s pivotal role in developing modern chess, and in spite of the enduring renown of the chess–playing priest from Extramadura, Ruy Lopez, the chief Hispanic chess protagonist was the Cuban, José Raúl Capablanca y Graupera (1888-1942) world chess champion from 1921-1927. Apart from accuracy and invincibility, Capablanca was widely renowned for his exceptional strategic vision, endgame skill and speed of play.
Capablanca’s victory over the dominant American champion, Frank Marshall, in a 1909 match earned him an invitation to the 1911 San Sebastian tournament. Against all initial odds, he won it ahead of famous players such as Akiba Rubinstein, Aron Nimzowitsch and Siegbert Tarrasch. Capablanca only received his invitation at Marshall’s generous insistence and over the objections of the established grandmasters Aron Nimzowitsch and Ossip Bernstein. This grandmasterly duo complained about the inclusion of a relative neophyte, but in an almost inevitable stroke of poetic justice, Capablanca trounced both of them in their individual encounters.
Capablanca finally won the world chess championship title from Emanuel Lasker in 1921, thus contributing to an extraordinary record: Capablanca was undefeated from 10 February 1916 until 21 March 1924, a period that included the world championship match against Lasker. To go for eight years without loss, including several international standard tournaments, a world championship match and the cosmic gathering in London a century ago, is a record which is likely to stand until chess as we know it is no longer played.
Capablanca lost the title in 1927 to Alexander Alekhine, who, astonishingly, had never beaten Capablanca before this match. Following unsuccessful attempts to arrange a rematch over subsequent years, relations between the two colossi became embittered. Capablanca continued his excellent tournament results, including first prizes in Moscow and Nottingham, but he also suffered from symptoms of high blood pressure. He died in 1942 of a brain haemorrhage.
Capablanca excelled in simplified positions and endgames; Bobby Fischer, employing his easy going transatlantic vernacular, described him as possessing a “real light touch”. He could play tactical chess when necessary, although he rarely invited complications, and possessed iron defensive technique. He wrote several chess books, of which
one,
Chess
Fundamental
s,
was
regarded — somewhat controversially, I might add — by the Soviet
world champion
Mikhail Botvinnik as the best chess book ever written.
Despite his books, Capablanca preferred not to engage in detailed analysis but focused on critical moments in a game. His style of chess influenced the play of
several
future world champions,
such as Vassily Smyslov, Tigran Petrosian, Bobby Fischer and Anatoly Karpov. A major difference, though, was Capablanca’s reluctance to research and innovate in the openings and his reliance on his own instinct, talent and genius to support him in any situation or predicament.
Five years after his triumph in London, Capablanca undertook
perhaps
his most strenuous challenge since his struggle with Lasker for the world sceptre. The New York chess tournament, held between 19 February and 23 March 1927, involved six of the world’s strongest masters playing a quadruple round-robin, with the others being Alexander Alekhine, Rudolf Spielmann, Milan Vidmar, Aron Nimzowitsch and Frank Marshall.
Before the tournament, Capablanca wrote that he had “more experience but less power” than in 1911, that he had peaked around 1919 and that some of his competitors had gained in strength in the intervening years. In spite of such pessimistic forebodings, Capablanca enjoyed overwhelming success, finishing undefeated with 14/20, winning the micro-matches with each of his rivals, 2½ points ahead of second-placed Alekhine
. He
won a special prize for
his
victory over Spielmann.
Since Capablanca had won the New York 1927 chess tournament overwhelmingly and had never lost a game to Alekhine, most pundits regarded the Cuban as the clear favourite in their World Chess Championship 1927 match. But Alekhine won the match, played from September to November 1927 at Buenos Aires, by 6 wins, 3 losses, and 25 draws — the longest World Championship match ever, until the aborted contest in 1984–85 between Anatoly Karpov and Garry Kasparov.
Alekhine’s victory astonished almost the entire chess world. After Capablanca’s passing, Alekhine himself expressed surprise at his own victory, since in 1927 he had not truly believed that he was superior to Capablanca, and he suggested that Capablanca had been overconfident. Capablanca entered the fray with no technical or physical preparation, while Alekhine trained himself into good physical condition and had closely studied Capablanca’s play, in the course of which thorough investigation he convinced himself that he had found some promising chinks in the champion’s armour.
In his last major appearance, Capablanca represented Cuba in the 8th Chess Olympiad, held in Buenos Aires in 1939, and won the gold medal for the best performance on the top board. According to the extensive essay on Capablanca to be found on Wikipedia, for which I am grateful for many of the facts in this column, while Capablanca and Alekhine (France) were both representing their countries in Buenos Aires, Capablanca made a final attempt to arrange a World Championship match. Alekhine declined, saying he was obliged to help defend his adopted homeland, since World War II had just broken out. This was a strange decision, since Alekhine was then in his late forties and an unlikely candidate for strenuous or indeed any military service. As fate would have it, Alekhine would have done better to stay in Buenos Aires and contest a match against Capablanca on the spot.
Alekhine wrote in a 1942 tribute to Capablanca: “Capablanca was snatched from the chess world much too soon. With his death, we have lost a very great chess genius whose like we shall never see again.” Lasker once said: “I have known many chess players, but only one chess genius: Capablanca.”
Capablanca has been an inspiration for chess in Cuba ever since, culminating in the 1966 Havana Olympiad, where I, as a member of the England team, was even invited to dinner with Fidel Castro. An annual Capablanca Memorial tournament has also been held in Cuba, most often in Havana, since 1962. In 1974 I had the honour of being invited and winning the Capablanca Masters.
Astonishingly, Capablanca lost only 34 serious tournament and match games during his adult career. Again, according to Wikipedia statistics, he was undefeated from 10 February 1916, when he lost to Oscar Chajes in the New York 1916 tournament, to 21 March 1924, when he succumbed to the revolutionary Hypermodern complexities of Richard Réti in the New York International tournament. During this unbeaten streak, which included his 1921 World Championship match against Lasker, Capablanca racked up 63 tournament or match games, winning 40 and drawing 23.
In fact, only Frank Marshall, Emanuel Lasker, Alexander Alekhine and Rudolf Spielmann were able to win two or more formal games from the mature Capablanca, though in most cases their overall lifetime scores were minus (Capablanca beat Marshall +20−2=28, Lasker +6−2=16, Alekhine +9−7=33). Only Spielmann was level (+2−2=8). Of top players, Paul Keres alone had a narrow plus score against Capablanca (+1−0=5). Keres’s sole win came at the AVRO tournament of 1938 in Holland. This event was staged on the peripatetic principle of holding different rounds each day in separate towns. During this tournament Capablanca turned 50, while Keres was 22. It was overall Capablanca’s worst performance and it can certainly be explained, partly by age disparity, poor health and constant travel favouring younger players, but also by Capablanca’s infelicitous choice of the French Defence, which did not suit his fluid style.
Statistical ranking systems place Capablanca high among the greatest of all time. Nathan Divinsky and I, in our book
Warriors of the Mind
(1989) ranked him fifth, behind Garry Kasparov, Anatoly Karpov, Bobby Fischer and Mikhail Botvinnik — but immediately ahead of Emanuel Lasker. In his 1978 book
The Rating of Chessplayers, Past and Present
, Arpad Elo allotted retrospective ratings to players based on their performance over the best five-year span of their career. He concluded that Capablanca was the strongest of those surveyed, with Lasker and Botvinnik sharing second place.
Most importantly for my theme, a 2006 engine-based study found that Capablanca was the most accurate of all the World Champions, when compared with computer analysis of World Championship match games. This was confirmed by a 2011 computer analysis from the duo of Bratko and Guido, using the strong engines Rybka 2 and Rybka 3. In other words, Capablanca had, up to that moment, been the most exact champion of all time, certainly of the champions who trained without computers in the pre-Carlsen era.
Boris Spassky, World Champion from 1969 to 1972, considered Capablanca the best player of all time. As we have seen, Bobby Fischer, who held the title from 1972 to 1975, admired Capablanca’s “light touch” and ability to see the right move instantly. Fischer reported that in the 1950s, veteran members of the Manhattan Chess Club recalled Capablanca’s blitz chess exploits with absolute awe.
Capablanca excelled in simplified positions and endgames, and his strategic judgment was outstanding, to such an extent that attempts to attack him directly almost always foundered on his impervious defence. Nevertheless, Capablanca could also play stirring tactical chess when necessary — most famously in the 1918 Manhattan Chess Club Championship tournament, when Frank Marshall sprang a deeply analysed prepared variation on him, which he refuted while playing under the constraints of a time limit. He was also capable of aggressive tactical play to exploit a positional advantage, provided he considered it the most secure and efficient way to win — for example against Spielmann in the 1927 New York tournament.
In summary, Capablanca was a phenomenon, a sportsman without nerves, blessed with astoundingly rapid sight of the board and a nearly infallible instinct for the right move in any situation. If, as I believe, mathematics, music and chess in some way manifest the harmony of the universe, then Capablanca represents chess in the way that Pythagoras stands for mathematics and Mozart exemplifies music.
This week’s main game is chosen to somewhat redress the balance of the recent Spanish sporting triumphs. It is my win against the Spanish Grandmaster, Juan Manuel Bellon Lopez, latter day namesake of the immortal Ruy Lopez. Played in the Dortmund Grandmaster tournament of 1980, a competition where I captured first prize , just a few kilometres from England’s semi final victory in the football stadium against Holland, it is a clash in which I personify the impervious windmill to my opponent’s Don Quixote.
Juan Manuel Bellon Lopez vs. Raymond Keene
Dortmund, rd. 8, 1980
1. Nc3 d5 2. d4 Nf6 3. Bg5 Nbd7 4. f3 c5 5. e4 cxd4 6. Qxd4e5 7. Qa4 d4 8. Nd5 Be7?!
Presenting the bishop for capture, remains theory even until today.
9. Nxe7 Qxe7 10. Ne2?!
White fared better with 10. Bd3 in Dobos-Schmid, Postbauer, 1997.
10… h6 11. Bd2?!
More accurate is 11. Bxf6 Qxf6 12. Qa3 when the position is completely equal.
11… O-O 12. g4?
A Quixotic gesture although Black is still better after, 12. Ng3 Nc5 13. Qa3 Bd7 14. b4 Na4 15. Bd3 Rfc8 16. O-O a5 17. Qb3 Nc3 18. bxa5 Be6 19. Nf5 Qd7 with an edge .
12… Nb6
12… Nc5 is more immediately pertinent .
13. Qb4 Qc7 14. Ng3 Ne8
This error means that Black’s small advantage, now becomes White’s. Black has much better, for example: 14… a5 (14… Be6 15. Rg1 a5 16. Qa3 a4 transposes) 15. Qa3 Be6 16. Rg1 a4 17. Rc1 Kh7 18. Kf2 Rfc8 19. g5 hxg5 20. Bxg5 Ne8 21. c3 dxc3 22. Rxc3 Qd6 23 Qxd6 Nxd6 , when Black retains his slight advantage.
15. c4
White fails to exploit Black’s last. 15. Qa5 Be6 16. c3 is the right way to open things up for his bishop pair.
15… Be6
I could have gone pawn hunting with 15… a5! 16. Qa3 Nxc4 17. Bxc4 Qxc4 but my entire policy in this game was to deprive my dangerous opponent (five times Spanish champion, with wins to his credit against Tal, Larsen, Hort, Robert Byrne…) of tactical possibilities.
16. Qa5 Nd7 17. Qa3?
This mistake offers Black the advantage. White should prefer, 17. Qxc7 Nxc7 18. h4 a5 (18… f6 19. Nf5 Bxf5 20. exf5 a5 21. g5 fxg5 22. hxg5 hxg5 23. Bh3 Ra6 24. Bxg5) 19. g5 Na6 20. f4 Ndc5 21. f5 Bd7 22. Bxa5 Bc6 23. gxh6 g6 24. Rg1 , with equality maintained.
17… Nd6
18. Rc1 b6 19. h4 f6 20. Nf5 Nxf5 21. gxf5 Bf7 22. b3 Bh523. Kf2?!
An inaccuracy. White would have done better to play, 23. c5 Bxf3 24. Rg1 Qc6 25. Bc4+ Kh8 26. Bd5 , after which White has re-established a level playing field.
23… a5 24. Be2 Nc5 25. Rcg1 Kh7 26. Rg2 Qb7 27. Rhg1Rg8 28. Re1
Setting himself up for a killer denouement. 28. Qc1 Qe7 29. Qe1 a4 30. b4 Nb7 31. Qc1 Rac8 32. Qa3 Bf7 33. Qxa4 Nd6 34. c5 bxc5 35. bxc5 Rxc5 36. Bb4 , is enough to minimise Black’s advantage.
28… Rad8
Storing up energy, but an instant strike was also possible by means of 28… g6: after 29. fxg6+ Rxg6 30. Rxg6 Bxg6 31. Qc1 Bxe4 32. fxe4 Qxe4 33. Rh1 Qf5+ 34. Ke1 d3 35. Bf1 Qe4+ 36. Be3 Qxh1, the win is close by.
29. Qc1
The final straw. 29. Reg1 was the last chance to keep a foothold in the game. But after 29… Qd7 30. b4 (30. Qc1 d3 31. Bd1 g6 32. Be3 d2 33. Qc3 Bxf3 34. Kxf3 Nxe4 35. Qc2 Qxf5+) 30… axb4 31. Qxb4 Qd6 32. Qb1 Ra8 33. Bd1 Bf7 34. Bb3 Qd7 35. Bb4 g6 , Black is winning.
29… Bxf3!!
The match with which to light the fuse.
30. Kxf3 Nxe4 31. Bxh6 gxh6 32. Rg6 Rxg6 33. fxg6+ Kg7 34. Bd1 Nc5+ White resigns 0-1
Ray’s 206th book, “ Chess in the Year of the King ”, written in collaboration with Adam Black, and his 207th, “ Napoleon and Goethe: The Touchstone of Genius ” (which discusses their relationship with chess) are available from Amazon and Blackwells.
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