London 1984: USSR vs the World
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In 1970 in Belgrade the mighty USSR Chess Team was challenged by an elite selection, representing the Rest of the World, in what was dubbed the “Match of the Century”. The Soviets won by the tightest of margins, 20½ points to 19½; close though it was, nobody could deny their achievement in taking on and beating the World. The event was no less memorable in that it marked the return, after a two-year absence from international chess, of Bobby Fischer.
The mercurial Fischer agreed, most surprisingly, to play on the number 2 spot for the World team, behind Bent Larsen, and then proceeded to score 3-1 against the former World Champion Tigran Petrosian. Since that great and closely fought contest, chess organisers throughout the world had hoped to set up a return match.
This dream came to fruition in 1984, and I was fortunate enough to play a significant role in the events leading up to and during the second USSR vs. Rest of the World match, billed as the “strongest chess event in history’”, and held from 24 June to 29 June in what was then still known as London Docklands.
This narrative examines how the Soviets came to play against a World team, shortly after the announcement of their boycott of the Olympic Games in Los Angeles and traces how bids to hold the Match in Yugoslavia and then in Rome, possibly chasing the chimera of Bobby Fischer, came to nothing. It explains how organisers in London set out on a rescue mission. Finally how a group of people from the London Docklands Development Corporation and the British Chess Federation, aided by fortuitous visits to London of leading Asian chess sponsors, successfully faced up to the challenge of organising the event, having been given the green light just six days before the first players were due to arrive. That was a unique achievement, possibly for any sport, and the mechanics of this lightning operation are recorded here in blow-by-blow detail, reviving the glory days of London as a fulcrum and epicentre of global chess from the mid to late 19th century.
The very first international chess tournament was organised in London in 1851 by the energetic English Champion, Howard Staunton. After that, Victorian London immediately became the acknowledged centre for leading chess players the world over. Zukertort came, as did the future World Champions, Steinitz and Lasker, and splendid tournaments were arranged in which they could display their powers. On looking through anthologies of the most brilliant games from the second half of the 19th century, it will be seen that a vast number of them were played in London. In chess terms, therefore, 1851 is “ab Urbe condita”. But as the 20th century progressed, a decline set in, not only of London chess, but of British chess in general. During this time, Moscow established a chess hegemony and secured its own, apparently unassailable position as chess capital of the world.
Now, towards the middle of the 9th decade of the past century, things were changing again. As the late Roman Empire had two capitals, Constantinople in the east and Rome in the west, my ambition was to see London flourish again as the chess centre of the western world. In the previous four years, great events had been staged in London, on a scale not witnessed since the last days of the 19th century. The World Champion and his challengers began to compete here on a regular basis. Meanwhile, major sponsors had come forward to support and maintain the city’s international chess life – a life sustained by England’s own Grandmasters. At that time there were eight English Grandmasters, including the world’s youngest, Nigel Short, compared with none before 1976. London, which did not have a single major chess event between 1946 and 1973, had now become a transformed environment.
Great chess players have a special quality – the noted political commentator and chess lover, Brian Walden, had compared the champions to Cézanne, Picasso and Tchaikovsky. Yet chess grandmasters are not simply creative but also executive artists, whose work takes shape in public and in the shadow of an opponent bent on frustrating their every idea. From this chaotic crucible of struggle, we are fortunate, indeed, if a coherent pattern emerges at all. It is a tribute to their supreme intellectual skills that the games between great masters are frequently possessed of a profound inner beauty which belies the conditions of their creation. Winning the world title in chess demands the fierce will to win of a Wimbledon champion, the reflective genius of a great composer and the practical skills of a concert pianist. Not for nothing did Stravinsky once say of his Russian colleague, Prokofiev “…his mind is truly engaged only when playing chess.”
It was individuals such intellectual distinction who, in the 1980s, had been drawn increasingly to London. They were attracted by London’s quality of life, its brilliant communications, which could display their moves around the world within minutes of their being played, and by the generosity of our sponsors. If London was to assume and maintain the role of chess capital of the west, our achievements hitherto, Phillips and Drew tournaments, the World Championship semi-finals and USSR-ROW, now had to be capped. The culmination indeed manifested itself in the staging of four World Championship matches in 1986, 1993, 2000, and after a hiatus, 2018.
The 1982 Philips and Drew Kings, one of the two strongest tournaments ever to have been held in England and certainly the most impressive chess event to have graced the capital up to that moment, ended with honours shared between Anatoly Karpov and Ulf Andersson. Neither player reached the top without some luck. Karpov beat Boris Spassky from a most dubious, possibly lost, position in the final round, while Ulf Andersson could equally have gone down to Jonathan Mestel, but ultimately won. Both players, however, displayed just that extra degree of determination plus solidity which deservedly carried them to the fore.
Other remarkable exploits at London 1982 were Seirawan’s fantastic finishing burst of four wins from four games against Ljubojevic, Karpov, Nunn and Miles; Portisch’s disastrous run of one point from his last six games, when he had scored six out of his first seven; and Jon Speelman’s splendid effort in finishing at the head of the English contingent. If the main intention of our sponsors, Phillps and Drew and the GLC, had been to see some spectacular chess played in London, then they succeeded magnificently.
Following on this promising start, the second USSR v World match occurred in London, June 24–29, 1984 and carried the same “Match of the Century” billing as the first encounter.
Played at the Isle of Dogs, the match only took place thanks to a last minute rescue package, when sponsors withdrew from the previously proposed venues of Belgrade and then Rome. I think it is fair to say that I personally orchestrated the entire whirlwind undertaking. The London bid was also made possible thanks to the efforts of the London Docklands Corporation, the British Chess Federation and a wealthy co-sponsor, Indonesian businessman Mr H.M. Hasan, who wished to be named as captain of the Rest of the World side.
The format followed that of the previous 1970 match. This time the teams looked closer to equal strength, with average Elo grades being almost identical. Korchnoi had by now swapped sides, following his defection to the west and this was just one conceivable reason why Moscow (the logical “home and away” choice for a re-match) was not put forward as a venue: it would be an understatement to say that there was a great deal of antagonism between Korchnoi and the Soviet authorities. Mr Hasan wisely handed over executive captaincy duties to Lubomir Kavalek while the Soviets employed the grandmaster and psychologist Nikolai Krogius in the same role. The chief arbiter was Robert Wade OBE.
For the World side, Portisch had been insulted by the offer of board 7 and refused to play. Spassky had only just left the USSR to move to France and felt it would be overly painful to line up as an opponent of his old friends. Hort simply had other commitments. Bent Larsen and Korchnoi were the other veterans present on the world side.
The newcomers Karpov and Kasparov strengthened the top half of the USSR side, an area of weakness in the previous match. The veterans Tal, Smyslov and Polugaevsky participated once more and again turned in respectable performances. Petrosian was absent through illness, and was soon to leave the stage at the tragically premature age of 55, but the solid Yuri Razuvaev deputised admirably. The World’s Miles and Torre restored some pride on the bottom boards, but the real damage was done on board 6, where the rampant former world junior champion Beliavsky could not be contained by the combined efforts of Seirawan and Larsen. Some observers believed, with some justice, that Seirawan had foolishly been preferred to the higher-rated Walter Browne because he had a more “glamorous image”.
The last minute approach to substitute sponsors in Britain meant that the story that the match would take place on the Isle of Dogs did not break until Sunday, June 17th, and the early stories in the Fleet Street giants did not state the venue. Most chess fans in Britain would not have known details of the match until they saw Leonard Barden’s Guardian column on June 23rd, the day after the Soviet team arrived in London.
Last minute visa delays in Moscow, with the Soviet side keen to know their opponents’ board order before they left on the Friday morning, were allayed by the senior civil servant and Bletchley Park codebreaker, Sir Stuart Milner-Barry. My task, therefore, was not limited to mobilising sponsors, venue and hotels at lightning speed, but also to engage with the UK political establishment to ensure success.
Vigilant monitors of BBC programmes may have got to know that the match was on from a chat show on Monday June 18th. If you were prepared to listen through the tedious prattle of GLC politician Ken Livingstone and gossip columnist Nigel Dempster, you finally heard me give the background. Points of interest I brought out were that all strong chess players were individualists, usually inclined to buck discipline. Korchnoi, I suggested, would always have been a rebel, no matter what society he grew up in.
Some fears were expressed about how quiet the playing conditions would be on a building site on the Isle of Dogs. I knew, for example, that there was an industrial strength steam hammer on site, but it was well muffled.
Logistically, the players were hosted in a city centre hotel in Tottenham Court Road, apart from John Nunn and Murray Chandler who opted to have easier access by staying at Murray’s place, just south of the venue in London SE18. The coach bringing the players and officials took between thirty and fifty minutes to get to the site, depending on the state of London traffic, so that a prompt 3.00pm start was not always possible.
Unfortunately, it was also not always possible to have all the facilities within the same building. The 1970 match in Belgrade was played in a huge theatre with a massive stage and room for over a thousand to sit in the auditorium. The Northern & Shell Building was long and narrow with room for only about 80 to be seated, in two long rows. Much of the front row was taken up by FIDÉ officials, journalists and VIPs, so it was often standing room only at the back of the seats. Progress from one end of the room to the other was accomplished by pushing through a mass of bodies.
The other components of the split site were a yellow marquee to house the bookstall, game demonstration (Bill Hartston and Andrew Whiteley) and refreshments, and the press centre with telephones and photocopy machines. The latter were perhaps 600 yards from the playing area, but a monitor kept the up-to-date positions in sight. Amongst the prominent personalities there in an administrative or journalistic capacity were FIDÉ President Campomanes, Vice President Toran, German Federation President Kinzel, Grandmasters Adorjan, Marovic, Zaitsev, and leading members of the international and national chess press corps: Roshal, Barden, Golombek, Wood, Reilly and many more.
The British Chess Federation was represented by Stewart Reuben, who headed much the same team of London-based organisers, board-boys and stewards that had become well-known for their endeavours at the Phillips and Drew tournaments and the 1983 Candidates Semi-Final matches.
Perhaps I should close with a reference to the bon mot that Stewart Reuben related with some relish – but out of hearing from his helpers. A USSR vs. World contest arranged at a few days notice is not a bad effort; how do you cap that – cope with a world title match at three days’ notice, or an Olympiad at one day’s notice?
And the overall result? The USSR went one better than in 1970, winning by an overall two point margin.
Viktor Korchnoi vs. Lev Polugaevsky
Alexander Beliavsky vs. Yasser Seirawan
Alexander Beliavsky vs. Bent Larsen
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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