What is the difference between a 2450 and a 2500 or a 2500 to a 2600 or a 2600 to a 2650, etc? We sometimes see a player (example: Shabalov one year and Kaidanov another) winning almost everything in one stretch and doing so so or just fairly good at other times. Why is that? They obviously are good players.
We also see many players strong enough to be IMs or GMs and having a hard time breaking through that barrier. This is a very important thing to understand to be successful at a high level in chess.
Why do you think this is the case? What are the difference between the levels? I will offer my take after a few days to allow everyone a chance to post their opinions.
Chess Daily News from Susan Polgar
Can you explain Ben Finegold? He’s a big talent. He’s 2650. Why isn’t he a GM?
I think Ben purposely wants to be the world strongest IM.
Possible answers to the posted
question, using Fischer as an example:
1) Consistency – Fischer won
multiple national titles.
2) Motivation – Fischer hated the
Russians and used his knowledge
of their fear of him and collusion
against him as strong motivation
to beat them.
3) Ability to dominate – At times,
Fischer was able to dominate a
tournament like only few can.
If any player can excel at the above, they should be successful
against players of a similar
rating class.
I think that all aspects are important, like opening preparation, combinational vision, persistency, endgame knowledge, etc. The endgame is probably the most important one, and also the will to win. It’s important to have the right attitude : Playing to win, rather than playing not to lose.
Isn’t this something we should ask your parents?
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Good questions! The large range in playing abilities is, in my opinion, quite fascinating.
Silman quotes Christiansen as claiming that the main difference between IMs and GMs is in raw tactical ability. Although I’m not entirely convinced, it’s certainly true that we all miss tactics but that missing them at the wrong times can have disastrous consequences for our results.
A Quasi-Philosophical Explanation
For players who rejoice in reaching incredibly messy/tactical positions, there’s an easy explanation for why their results can vary: sometimes, all the tactics just “click,” whereas other times nothing works. We can’t analyze to the end of the game, so we enter such positions based on a “guess” that they’re ok for us and hope we’re proven right. Similar arguments even hold in more positional lines. This is related to Silman’s claim that the purpose of the opening is to produce some imbalance and then try to prove that it’s in our favor. Both players can complete the first task and try their best at the second, but the imbalance certainly can’t favor both players, so at least one of the players must be proven wrong, though it’s impossible to predict who that’ll be early on. (Timmerman, describing a correspondence game of his against van Oosterom, claimed that he “had the ‘luck’ that the outcome of the opening … turned out favorably for” him.” Harding doesn’t think luck was involved, but he gives no improvements for van Oosterom, so I think he misses the point of Timmerman’s comment.)
A more subtle version of the above points is that, in most positions, we have no idea what best play is, so we make a guess based on the tactics we see, our own understanding of chess, and our knowledge of what has worked in previous games in similar positions. If we are in a position for which our understanding of chess happens to correspond with the objective truth of the position, then we will do quite well. Otherwise, we may do “all the right things” (as far as we can possibly know) and still lose. Thus, our results depend crucially on which positions our opponents allow us to achieve, although it would be difficult for them to intentionally use this against us (beyond, say, aiming for open vs. closed positions).
A More Concrete Explanation
The advent of rapid-play finishes has certainly added a randomizing effect to games and thus to players’ results.