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By Larry Parr
Chess Life Editor 1984 - 1988
Author
The
Uneasy Art of resigning a Lost Position (III)
Compare Evans’ agonizing about when to resign a lost position with
Flohr’s equanimity mentioned above or with IM Sir Harry Golombek’s blithe
spirit when surrendering a fine position to Czech master J. Podgorny at Carlsbad
1948. “There was a game I
played,” he said, “in the first round of the 1948 Karlovy Vary International
Tournament against the Czechoslovak master, Podgorny”:
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J.
Podgorny -
IM
Harry Golombek Carlsbad, 1948 |
Golombek
(to move)
Podgorny
“When adjournment time came,” Golombek said of the above position,
“I decided to resign. My opponent, with great chivalry, told me not to be
over-precipitate but to wait till the morning so as to consider the position
with a fresh mind, since he knew I’d been travelling all day and was tired;
but I was adamant and insisted on resigning.
I spent the rest of the tournament trying in vain to discover why I had
resigned a perfectly good position.” A
move such as 42. ... Qd7 would have been playable.
The point is that the player in a lost position has to decide whether
continued resistance is more painful than surrender, but the man who resigns in
a won or good position is never in doubt. He
KNOWS that the game is hopeless.
Master in Winning Position:
I resign. Finished, lah.
Master in Losing Position:
Dear friend, you have been travelling all day.
You are tired. Sleep on this
decision. Reconsider when your mind
is fresh.
Master in Winning Position:
Nevvah! My resolve is
adamantine, my will of iron.
Master in Losing Position:
In the words of Oliver Cromwell, “I beseech you, in the bowels of
Christ, think it possible you may be mistaken.”
No game has ever been won by
resigning.
Master in Winning Position:
Says who? My certainty is
cosmic, my resignation irrevocable.
Master in Losing Position:
I don’t want the bloody point!
Master in Winning Position:
It’s yours.
Master in Losing Position:
I shan’t take it.
Master in Winning Position:
You have it.
Compare, further, the sublimity and certainty of resigning unnecessarily
with the dangers of resigning justifiably. First,
you have detached chair legs in angry hands:
Alexander Alekhine reportedly demolished the furniture in his room after
losing to Rudolf Spielmann at Carlsbad 1923.
Imagine the horror if the mild-mannered winner had been around when
Alekhine had a chair leg in his hand. Secondly,
crushed fingers: Aron Nimzovich
supposedly jumped on a chess table after resigning to a relative weakling,
loudly wondering why he had to lose to such a fish.
Imagine the pain if the winner had failed to move his fingers or if
Nimzovich had lost his footing. Thirdly,
dangerous defenestration: Big,
bluff, boozing Joseph Henry Blackburne may have tossed short, stout, snippy
Wilhelm Steinitz out a window after resigning a hopeless position in a match.
Imagine the years in prison that Blackburne might have spent or the
debilitating injuries Steinitz could have suffered – all because one player
resigned a lost position to another player.
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