Visky business

‘Visky,’ said the man driving the taxi.

 
‘Risky?’

 
‘Visky.’

 
‘Ah… whisky! Or vodka.’ I grinned as I got out. ‘Maybe see you last year,’ I ventured in bungled Russian.

 
There was no bottle to hand, but my wounded ego was soothed by the prescription. I’d been freshly eliminated from the World Cup in Siberia in a blitz tiebreak by Daniil Yuffa, an amiable young Russian. Two years ago, Daniil appeared on a Russian talent show (and YouTube). He simultaneously played three games of chess — blindfolded — and accompanied his own spectacle with a classical piano medley. Two days after beating me, he was out too. So it goes.

 
The Tragic Hero award goes to Nikita Vitiugov, another Russian who is formidably strong but just outside the world elite. He slew two giants on his winding path to the quarter final (Sergey Karjakin and Wesley So) but his tragedy unfolded in the ‘Armageddon’ game of the tiebreak against China’s Yu Yangyi. I mean no disrespect in calling it one of the worst grandmaster games I’ve ever seen, but the psychology is captivating.

 
Both players are punch drunk from five hours of speed chess, on top of their fortnight’s exertions. Our hero has the black pieces, and a draw will decide the match in his favour. He’s ready to be attacked, but can’t believe his luck when his opponent slips on a banana skin. White’s 9 Be4 is a comically bad move at this level, leaving him hopelessly lost on the board, but Vitiugov is disarmed by the slapstick. Striving to draw from a won position is like sketching a circle with a pencil: the more effort you expend, the worse it will look. That’s how one comes to play 17 … Nd7, a cautious retreat when 17 … Qc5 would clinch victory instantly, since 18 Ke3 loses the queen to 18 … Nc4+.