Buzz
Chess stands as the ultimate strategic battle ever devised. With only 64 squares and 32 pieces, its complexity is truly beyond comprehension. Claude Shannon, known as the 'Father of Information Theory,' once estimated the total number of distinct chess games possible. His conclusion was a staggering 10^120, a number far exceeding the count of atoms in the observable universe.
Given the game's vast possibilities, some speculate that playing chess might even push players to the edge of madness. However, no evidence has ever confirmed that chess causes insanity. It might just be that those already mentally unbalanced are drawn to chess, as it helps them maintain their sanity.
10. The Sugar Bomb Incident
Chess masters often use unusual tactics to secure victory. Ruy Lopez, the renowned 16th-century Spanish priest and chess expert, once offered the advice, “Place your opponent in a position where the sun shines directly into his eyes.” Another player, Lucena, suggested, “Play your game after your opponent has had a hearty meal or a drink.”
In the 19th century, Harry Nelson Pillsbury credited his sharp focus to smoking cigars during his games. On the flip side, Szymon Winawer purposefully chose to smoke inferior cigars, hoping the unpleasant smell would disturb his opponent’s concentration. Meanwhile, at the 1935 World Championship, the superstitious Alexander Alekhine would place his Siamese cat on the chessboard before a match as a charm for good luck. He was also said to hope for an allergic reaction from his rival. When he was no longer allowed to play with the cat on his lap, Alekhine resorted to wearing a sweater featuring an image of his pet.
This brings us to a curious incident during the 1979 Lone Pine tournament, where Filipino grandmaster Rosendo Balinas faced off against Jeremy Silman. The game began calmly enough, but things took a strange turn after 10 moves. According to Silman’s account of the event:
At this point, Balinas set a thermos of hot tea on the table, followed by a large cup of honey. I thought he would mix the honey into the tea, but instead, he surprised me! He poured the tea into the honey, which turned into a thick, sticky goo, and then proceeded to drink the entire concoction. I was shocked to see his eyes glaze over as the sugar quickly hit his system. He smiled and continued playing as if nothing had happened.
After this bizarre act of self-sabotage, the Filipino grandmaster seemed to be in a stupor. He could only manage 12 more moves before collapsing. Silman felt so bad for him that he took no satisfaction in his easy victory.
9. The Strangest World Championship Ever
Chess is primarily a battle of the mind, and players often go to absurd lengths to rattle their opponents. However, when it comes to pure craziness, the World Championship match between Viktor Korchnoi (left) and Anatoly Karpov (right) truly stands out.
The two grandmasters were fierce competitors. Karpov, a member of the Communist Party, embodied the ideal of the 'Soviet New Man.' As a reward for his success, Karpov was gifted a Mercedes, a chauffeur, a luxurious Moscow apartment, and a country dacha. In contrast, Korchnoi, a defector who fled to the Netherlands in 1976, frequently spoke out against the Soviet regime. To the Soviets, Korchnoi, who was Jewish, was viewed as a diseased and immoral character.
The 1972 title match between Bobby Fischer and Boris Spassky proved that the Cold War could be fought as intensely on a chessboard as on an actual battlefield. In 1978, Fischer had forfeited his title, and the free world was now represented by Korchnoi. His showdown with Karpov, the ice-cold calculator from behind the Iron Curtain, took place in Baguio, Philippines.
For their first game, Korchnoi wore mirrored sunglasses to hide his eyes from Karpov’s stare, which had bothered him in a previous match. Karpov complained that the mirrors reflected the light into his eyes. Karpov also requested that Korchnoi’s chair be examined for “prohibited devices” (presumably the mind-zapping kind) and distracted his opponent by swiveling in his own chair during games.
Korchnoi’s camp then objected to the yogurt delivered to Karpov during games, suggesting that the color might be some sort of coded message. Perhaps a strawberry yogurt signified one move and raspberry another. Korchnoi was also bothered by a member of the Soviet entourage named Vladimir Zukhar, a parapsychologist who would sit in the front row and stare malevolently at him. Korchnoi suspected that Zukhar was hypnotizing him and interfering with his brain waves. Thanks to the “psychic,” Korchnoi was a nervous wreck by the seventh game.
To counteract Zukhar, Korchnoi brought in Dada and Didi, two members of an Indian sect called Ananda Marga. Zukhar had the two mystics teach him yoga and transcendental meditation. It was now the Soviet delegation’s turn to be unsettled when Dada and Didi hovered around them during the games.
Revived, Korchnoi came back from being three games behind to leveling the score at five to five. Whoever won the next game would become the champion. There was an unsubstantiated claim that the KGB was ready to poison Korchnoi. If true, his life was probably spared when he lost the tiebreaker. After failing to beat Karpov in their grudge match, Korchnoi said he would bring along the CIA next time around. Moscow simply laughed him off.
8. Chess and Espionage
It’s no surprise that the KGB had such a deep involvement in chess. The game naturally lends itself to secretive operations, making it the perfect tool for espionage. Given that the USSR was absolutely obsessed with chess, using chess moves as a cover for covert communications was ideal. The KGB even included a section on chess in its handbooks. In the 1960s and 1970s, the Soviet embassy in Washington employed a chess expert who was also a KGB agent. According to defector Lev Alburt, many of the Soviet grandmasters he knew were actually 'KGB infiltrators.'
In 2009, a collection of postcards came to light, all addressed to Graham Mitchell, who had served as deputy director general of MI5 in the 1950s. The cryptic messages written on the postcards appeared to discuss chess games, and experts speculated that they might be some sort of coded communication. These postcards were believed to have been sent by an undercover agent operating from Frankfurt, a known hotspot for espionage during the Cold War. The messages, written using chess notations to outline various moves, likely concealed secret information. Suspicious-sounding phrases in the text were possibly meant to hide additional messages. For instance, one agent writes:
Without against Dr. Balogh, I always now face tough battles in my games.
I've been experimenting with a variation of the Nimzowich-defense against Collins, which seems to be doomed to failure!
I'll attempt to come up with a new defensive strategy, but my expectations are low. Nonetheless, my games tend to unfold rapidly.
By the way, have I sent any of my recent games to you? And how have your games been going?
9. . . 5435 10. 1432 12.-16./6. 16./6. = od
It remains unclear whether the agent was working for MI5, as Mitchell was suspected of being a Soviet spy at the time. As the head of counterespionage, Mitchell might have been recruiting double agents for the KGB. However, no evidence of treason was ever discovered, and Mitchell retired in 1963.
The strong link between chess and codebreaking led Alastair Denniston, director of Bletchley Park, to enlist chess players to decode the German Enigma machine during World War II. Chess masters Harry Golombek, Hugh Alexander, and Sir Philip Stuart Milner-Berry immediately withdrew from the 1939 Chess Olympiad to join Bletchley Park. The most renowned member of the codebreaking team, mathematician Alan Turing, later developed a chess program... years before computers capable of running such programs even existed.
7. The Chess Prodigy Who Gave Up Chess
In recent years, chess has evolved into a high-stakes game, involving politics, ideology, and significant monetary rewards. However, this wasn’t always the case. The first unofficial world champion, Paul Morphy, would likely be horrified by the massive prizes now offered to modern players. Morphy despised the notion of professionalism and once wrote to a rival, “Permit me to repeat that I am not a professional player; that I never wished to make any skill I possess the means of pecuniary advancement, and that my earnest wish is never to play for any sake but honor.”
Despite his rejection of professionalism, Morphy’s incredible prowess on the chessboard left everyone in awe. Born in New Orleans in 1837, Paul was a child prodigy, already defeating his father and uncle by the age of 10. Having never studied a chess book, he wielded the pieces with an uncanny and instinctive understanding of strategy and tactics. At just 13, he stunned the chess community by defeating Hungarian master Johann Lowenthal (pictured right). From that moment, Morphy was determined to challenge the top masters in both the US and Europe.
After earning his law degree in 1857, Morphy embarked on his extraordinary mission. Howard Staunton, Britain’s top player, deliberately avoided a match with him, earning accusations of cowardice. In Paris, Morphy demonstrated his unparalleled skill by playing eight opponents at once, without stopping to eat or drink for 10 hours until each of them was defeated by his brilliance. And to top it off, Morphy performed this feat blindfolded, visualizing the moves as they were called out to him.
During his travels across Europe, Morphy, an idealistic chess enthusiast, was disillusioned by how the game had become a commercial enterprise. Despite his deep love for chess, he found this trend repugnant. His feelings were further compounded when he realized how much the game detracted from his more significant pursuits, especially his legal career. The public, however, was more captivated by Morphy's fame as a chess prodigy than by his aspirations as a lawyer, leading to the dissolution of his law practice after just a few months. To make matters worse, the woman he was courting turned down his proposal, deeming him 'nothing more than a chess player.'
Disheartened, Morphy walked away from the game entirely. He became so disinterested that he refused to play even in private. His extraordinary skills faded into obscurity as he never again displayed his brilliance. Despite numerous attempts to convince him to return to chess, Morphy remained firm in his aversion. On one occasion, facing financial hardship, he asked an old friend to lend him $200. The friend offered $250—but only if Morphy agreed to play a match. Morphy reluctantly accepted but deliberately lost the game, expressing his disdain. Without collecting the money, he left in silence.
On a separate occasion, Morphy was informed that Wilhelm Steinitz, who had declared himself the world champion, was in New Orleans and eager to meet him. Morphy agreed to the meeting under the strict condition that chess would not be mentioned. After a painfully awkward 10-minute conversation, in which the two had nothing to talk about, they parted ways without any further engagement.
As time passed, Morphy’s mental state deteriorated, and he began exhibiting signs of paranoia. He grew suspicious of his brother-in-law, fearing he was being poisoned, and would only eat food prepared by his mother or sister. He also became convinced that barbers were plotting to kill him by slitting his throat. Morphy wandered the streets of New Orleans, muttering to himself, grinning absentmindedly, and brandishing his cane at anyone who came too close. He would also stalk women in the city, following them for hours on end.
Morphy’s family attempted to have him committed to an asylum, but he skillfully defended his sanity by giving articulate speeches about his civil rights, persuading officials to release him. Tragically, Paul Morphy, once hailed as the 'Pride and Sorrow of Chess,' passed away in his home on July 10, 1884.
6. The World Champion Who Conquered the Divine
Wilhelm Steinitz revolutionized the game of chess with his groundbreaking theories, earning him the title of 'Father of Modern Chess.' He marked the end of the Romantic era of chess—a time when reckless attacks and flashy sacrifices were common—and introduced a more methodical and analytical approach to the game.
Born in Prague in 1836 to Jewish parents, Steinitz was unlike Paul Morphy in that he was not opposed to earning a living through chess. He defeated Adolf Anderssen, the world’s best player, in 1866, and declared himself world champion. His arrogance and fiery temper, however, made him few friends. Despite this, he successfully defended his title. Steinitz even played a match against Mikhail Tchigorin of Russia over a cable connection. While Steinitz was in New York and Tchigorin in Havana, New York police mistakenly arrested Steinitz as a spy, interpreting his chess moves as coded messages.
The story took a bizarre twist when Steinitz reportedly claimed to have used a telephone to call God and defeat Him at chess, even after giving Him an extra pawn. This occurred during a time when electricity was still a mystery, and the telephone was a relatively new invention. It was also the height of the spiritualism movement, leading some to speculate that electricity might somehow be connected to the supernatural. If divine beings such as God, angels, and spirits were thought to be electrical entities, then perhaps it was conceivable to communicate with them through electrical means.
The tale of Steinitz defeating God is most likely a distorted blend of two different events. In the first, Steinitz entertained the idea of reaching out to God by telephone or telegraph. In the second, he pondered the outcome of a chess match against God. Considering this, it’s difficult to interpret the story as evidence of Steinitz’s madness, as some historians have suggested.
Nevertheless, there’s no denying that Steinitz had mental health issues. Whether these were a result of chess or other factors is still debated. In 1899, his condition deteriorated after a poor showing at a London tournament, and he was confined to a sanatorium. Sadly, the chess legend passed away on August 12, 1900, impoverished and mentally ill.
5. The Jewish Man Who Dined with Nazis
Aron Nimzowitsch broke free from the rigid doctrines established after Steinitz's reforms. He introduced the chess world to fresh strategic ideas and innovative methods of playing. Initially, his theories were ridiculed, but over time, the creative energy they infused into the game gained traction among players. Today, Nimzowitsch's hypermodern approach is recognized as a cornerstone of chess strategy.
Born in 1886 in Riga, Latvia, Nimzowitsch's father was a Hasidic Jew and a master-level chess player. As a child, he immersed himself in the study of the Talmud. However, at the age of eight, his interest shifted to chess, and he quickly became passionate about the game. By the early 1900s, he had already risen to prominence among the world's top players. In 1922, he became a Danish citizen.
Like many great players, Nimzowitsch had his eccentricities. One of his most famous outbursts occurred after a loss when he leaped onto a table, exclaiming, 'Why must I lose to this idiot?' His friend Hans Kmoch recalled the incident:
Nimzowitsch was plagued by the delusion that he was constantly misunderstood, attributing it to malice. This paranoia was especially apparent when dining in groups. He was convinced that he always received smaller portions than the others. It wasn’t about the size of the portions, but rather the perceived slight. On one occasion, I suggested that we switch plates with each other and order what the other truly wanted. After the exchange, he was still incredulous, convinced that his portion was still the smaller one.
During a tournament in Bled, Yugoslavia, Nimzowitsch made a dramatic entrance to the playing hall wearing nothing but a bathrobe. As the queen of Yugoslavia was about to arrive, Kmoch swiftly grabbed him by the neck and shoved him out the door. On another occasion, a doctor advised Nimzowitsch to exercise more regularly, so he decided to perform calisthenics during his games. According to grandmaster Reuben Fine, he would even stand on his head while waiting for his turn to move.
With Hitler’s rise to power in the 1930s, life became far more perilous for Jews like Nimzowitsch. Yet, he remained confident due to the protection of three consulates: the Latvian, the Danish, and the Dutch (where he worked for a newspaper). He proudly boasted about this protection to Reich Minister Hans Frank, a man who would later mass murder Jews in Poland, putting Nimzowitsch in dangerous territory.
In 1934, Germany hosted the Alekhine-Bogoljubov world championship match, and Nimzowitsch covered it as a reporter. One day, a high-ranking Nazi official entered the press room. Nimzowitsch demanded to see his credentials, and when the Nazi failed to provide them, the reporter ordered him to leave. The stunned onlookers were certain the Nazi would attack the Jew who dared to challenge him, but instead, the German simply walked away. Later, Hans Frank, who also attended the games, invited the group to his villa for lunch. At the table, Nimzowitsch’s paranoia resurfaced, and he complained that his plate and knife were dirty. Across from him, the future “Butcher of Poland” feigned ignorance.
Nimzowitsch was fortunate that his crude behavior didn’t cost him his life. He passed away from pneumonia in 1935. The entire Nimzowitsch family, with the exception of an older sister, perished during the Holocaust.
4. Simultaneous And Blindfolded
Playing chess without the use of sight is a remarkable demonstration of memory. When done against multiple opponents simultaneously, it becomes even more impressive. In the past, such feats were so extraordinary that during the Middle Ages, one onlooker believed that a blindfolded player was working with the Devil. In the 18th century, when Francois-Andre Philidor (pictured above) defeated two opponents in a blindfolded game, witnesses were asked to sign affidavits to confirm the event's authenticity.
Many chess masters can easily visualize board positions in their minds. Cuban champion Jose Raul Capablanca even considered it unnecessary to own a chess set at home. When he needed to set up a position physically, he would use ordinary household objects, such as two lumps of sugar as stand-ins for rooks.
Blindfold chess is both physically and mentally draining. Since its inception, there have been warnings about the potential harm it could cause to the brain. For instance, a New York Sun obituary for Paul Morphy stated, 'The strain in his brain produced a brain fever, from which he never recovered.' Meanwhile, The Philadelphia Evening Bulletin reported that Wilhelm Steinitz had 'been driven insane by the game to the mastery of which he had devoted his life.'
In 1930, the USSR outlawed blindfold chess, citing its alleged health risks. There were reports that a Russian player died while attempting to set a world record for the most opponents. World champion Mikhail Botvinnik cautioned against attempting such feats, and his student Garry Kasparov chooses not to attempt it seriously.
Despite these warnings, some masters continued to push the limits, steadily increasing the number of opponents they faced. Pillsbury took on 20, Richard Reti played against 29, Alekhine faced 32, and George Koltanowski challenged 34 opponents.
When war broke out in Europe, many players found themselves stranded in Argentina following the 1939 Olympiad. Jewish players, in particular, felt it would be too dangerous to return home. With no means of contacting his family in Poland, Mojsze Najdorf came up with a creative plan. He would attempt to set a world record in a simultaneous blindfold exhibition. This wasn’t just a stunt—it was his hope that the event would be reported in Europe, allowing his family to know he was safe and get in touch with him.
Najdorf took on 40 opponents, achieving an impressive 36 wins, 1 draw, and just 3 losses. Tragically, he never heard from his family. When he finally returned to Poland after the war, he learned that they had all perished. Left with nothing to return to in his homeland, Najdorf returned to Argentina, settled there, and changed his name to Miguel. Fortunately, he lived to a ripe old age, remaining lucid and mentally sound throughout.
3. For The Love Of The Game
Chess addiction is undeniably real. As H.G. Wells once put it, 'The passion for playing chess is one of the most unaccountable in the world. [ . . .] It is the most absorbing of occupations, the least satisfying of desires, an aimless excrescence upon life. It annihilates a man. [ . . .] There is no remorse like the remorse of chess.'
Chess can consume your attention to the point where you neglect your job, your spouse, and even your very existence. In AD 813, during the height of the struggle for succession between the brothers Caliph Muhammad ibn Harun al-Amin and al-Ma’mun, the latter's forces laid siege to the Abbasid capital, Baghdad. In a brutal battle, al-Ma’mun's troops advanced steadily toward the Golden Gate Palace. Meanwhile, Caliph al-Amin was caught in an entirely different conflict. Rather than fighting his brother, he was locked in a game of chess with his beloved eunuch, Kauthar.
As chronicled by medieval Islamic historian Jirjis al-Makin, a messenger rushed into the palace with news of the approaching enemy. 'O Commander of the faithful,' the messenger implored, 'this is no time for play. Please rise and attend to more serious matters.' Yet, to al-Amin, the messenger’s plea was as distant as if it had come from another world. So absorbed was the caliph in his game that he paid no attention to the impending danger.
'Patience, my friend,' the caliph calmly replied. 'In just a few moves, I will deliver checkmate to Kauthar.' A few moments later, al-Amin triumphantly trapped Kauthar’s king. However, by that time, it was already too late for al-Amin. The man who had checkmated his eunuch would soon be checkmated himself, as his enemies overwhelmed the palace. Al-Amin was swiftly beheaded, and his brother al-Ma’mun ascended the Abbasid throne.
H.G. Wells once claimed that chess can completely overwhelm a person, leaving them mentally destroyed.
2. The Rage of Chess
Bobby Fischer famously described chess as 'war over the board,' where the ultimate goal is to shatter the opponent's psyche. He revealed that his greatest pleasure came from the moment when he crushed a man's self-confidence. Losing a game of chess is not just a defeat—it's a profound blow to the ego, and throughout history, some have reacted to this humiliation with violent outbursts.
Many stories of furious losers involve nobility. Pepin the Short allegedly murdered his rival, Prince Okarius of Bavaria, by smashing him with a rook. In 1027 AD, Earl Ulf became enraged when King Canute reversed his move, causing Ulf to flip the board. In response, Canute had the earl executed.
William the Conqueror reportedly struck a French prince with a chessboard after being checkmated. In 1120, a disagreement over chess between King Henry I of England and Louis VI of France allegedly sparked a 12-year war.
Long before that, an Ummayad caliph named Al-Walid killed one of his courtiers by throwing the firzan (a queen piece) at his head. The cause of this violent reaction? Al-Walid discovered that the courtier had been intentionally losing their chess games, and he was not pleased.
While we may question the truth of such stories, there are far too many similar accounts to dismiss them all. It seems plausible that certain rulers, like Al-Walid, reacted harshly to defeat—or even to the possibility of losing. Back then, chess pieces were made from stone, making them tempting instruments of violence for an angry player. Today, however, we’re more civilized, and chess sets are crafted from wood or plastic, relegating such violent incidents to the distant past.
In modern times, many players express their frustration with tantrums, such as Alekhine throwing chess pieces across the room or smashing furniture. However, there are still occasional cases where games end in far more gruesome ways. One of the most extreme incidents occurred in Dublin in 2014, when Saverio Bellante murdered his landlord, Tom O’Gorman, after O’Gorman called Bellante's king move 'stupid and perverse.' In his rage, Bellante not only killed O'Gorman but also mutilated the body, eating part of his heart. Bellante was later found not guilty by reason of insanity.
1. Fischer and the False Prophet
No discussion on chess insanity would be complete without mention of Bobby Fischer (pictured left), the legend who descended into paranoia and darkness in his later years. His single-handed demolition of the Soviet chess colossus has recently been made into the movie Pawn Sacrifice, starring Tobey Maguire.
To many, Fischer’s obsession with chess was his undoing. The man once said, “All I want to do, ever, is just play chess.” In fact, his preoccupation worried his mother so much that she took him to psychiatrists. Legend has it that when Fischer lost his virginity at age 19, he remarked on the experience, “Chess is better.”
But Fischer was actually interested in one other thing—religion. In the mid-1960s, he got involved with a sect (many label it a cult) called the Worldwide Church of God (WCG). It was led by a huckster named Herbert W. Armstrong (pictured right) who based his radio ministry on end-time prophecies. The cornerstone of Armstrong’s bizarre apocalyptic scenario was that the US and Britain had actually descended from the Ten Lost Tribes of Israel. He taught that God would punish America and Britain via an invasion from a United States of Europe led by Germany. Normally rational and logical, Fischer bought all of this, hook, line, and sinker.
Fischer was mentally overwhelmed by trying to adhere to all the rules of the cult, such as observing the Sabbath, following dietary restrictions, and paying tithes. He was even prohibited from forming friendships with those deemed 'unconverted.' Despite his exhaustion after late nights at the chess club, returning home at 4 a.m., Fischer would push himself to engage in Bible study and prayer. He also began to donate a portion of his hard-earned prize money to the cult. After winning the World Championship in 1972, Fischer sent $61,200 of his prize money to the Worldwide Church of God (WCG).
However, Fischer never improved his own living conditions or those of his mother, who lived in a dilapidated apartment without a bathroom. On the other hand, Armstrong was enjoying a life of luxury, flying around the world in his private jet and giving lavish gifts to political leaders.
Armstrong had been predicting the imminent arrival of the Great Tribulation since the 1930s, and each time his predictions failed. In 1972, he proclaimed that the end of the world was near, but when that year passed without the apocalypse, Fischer began to see Armstrong for who he really was: a false prophet and master manipulator. Fischer also learned about the scandalous behavior of Armstrong's son, Garner Ted, and realized that both of them were hypocrites. Disillusioned, Fischer left the WCG, lamenting, 'And I should have known that it was all just a pack of lies. He was just playing with me. Lie after lie...'
