on the tata steel chess tournament
From the 23rd to the 26th of January 2024, I had the pleasure of visiting the Tata Steel Chess Tournament in Wijk aan Zee in the Netherlands, and boy, when I tell you I had the time of my life! For those of you who might be curious, this blog post documents my experience as a spectator of one of the most prestigious chess tournaments to exist.
The 23rd of January, the day that I arrived in the Netherlands, was the ‘Chess on Tour’ day, where the participants of the Masters section travelled to The Hague to play chess in a new, exciting venue! Unfortunately for my mother, this meant that she had to drive for extra time in a foreign country where the road users are extremely rude, but I’m sure it was worth it for her as it was for me; stepping into the AFAS Circustheater and seeing the players’ faces up on the wall was mind-blowing, bringing out the little autistic boy within me in an instant.
I was only there for about five minutes before my mother and I bumped into Pragg’s mother, Nagalashkmi, who was exiting the playing hall. I could scarcely believe it, and it only got more awe-inspiring when we entered the playing hall ourselves a few moments later and there they were. Somehow, I was sitting less than ten metres away from some of the best chess players in the entire world, including two world champions. I could only watch in half-disbelief as Alireza Firouzja paced around the playing hall and the camera appeared to be stuck on Max Warmerdam and Parham Maghsoodloo’s game, and there was Nodirbek. Long-time followers of my Twitter account (@thechessqueer) will know that Nodirbek Abdusattorov is my favourite chess player (in perhaps the entire world other than Vaishali Rameshbabu), so perhaps they can guess how I was feeling seeing his famous ‘death stare’ in person.
It was all too much. I needed a drink and a game of giant chess with my mother.
About halfway through the game (which I won, by the way), my mother goes up to me on the other side of the board and says “I think that’s Alireza’s brother.”
Sure enough, though I wasn’t quite sure at the time, Mohammadreza Firouzja was there, analysing his brother’s game against Alexander Donchenko with an almost frightening intensity. Out of the several times I saw him over the course of the tournament, perhaps the only time I ever saw him relax was during postgame analysis with a guy he had beaten the shit out of several moments prior. I watched Mohammadreza Firouzja taking apart a random guy that probably had no idea who he was for five games in a row, and I didn’t ask him for a game. Sure, a 2100 FIDE-rated player would absolutely destroy me, but maybe it would’ve been a good learning opportunity? Perhaps that is my only regret of the tournament.
The only thing I had to criticise about the venue is that the game display—projected onto the back of the stage—was too far away to be readable. It’s awfully hard to spectate a game of chess when you can’t tell what the players are doing. Consequently, I spent most of the Chess on Tour round watching the players as opposed to what moves they were making. Chess is an intense sport, and this is evident just as much through the players and their body language as well as the games played.
Unfortunately, all the chess players left before I could get any of their signatures—except Ju Wenjun, who was kind enough to wait for me while I fumbled to get the plastic wrap off of my new chessboard, even signing it again when her first signature smudged. She was perhaps one of the nicest players I met at the event, and I met all of them!
After the round, it was time to head to Wijk aan Zee, where I got the shock of my life coming downstairs to breakfast and seeing none other than Praggnanandhaa himself eating scrambled eggs and engaging in animated conversation with his mum and chess coach. My mother and I ate our breakfast in astonishment as chess players poured into the breakfast hall, and I may have had far more servings of yogurt than I needed in order to stay longer and see who I would see next. In my defense, the yogurt was delicious, as was the juice I acquired while standing next to Nodirbek. Being the civilised individual I am, I didn’t want to bother them over breakfast, so I just whispered to my mother excitedly as I counted the GMs we saw over the two hours we spent there. The total: thirteen!
The actual chess didn’t start until much later, and when I tell you I was not prepared for the intensity of the tournament’s host venue. I may have had the beginnings of a panic attack in the hallway, not at all helped by the relatively unhelpful staff at the entrance who despite speaking perfect English could not communicate to me that they wanted to see my registration confirmation—thankfully I finally realised what they wanted from me after the initial confusion.
Having finally made it into the playing hall, I shouldered my way past many old men and Mohammadreza Firouzja as politely as I could to get the perfect spot—right in front of Nodirbek’s game versus Max Warmerdam, with Divya Deshmukh (my favourite Challenger!) playing Daniel Dardha in the foreground. I stayed there for what must’ve been several hours watching Nodirbek’s game, and I may have made awkward eye contact with Daniel Dardha once or twice—sorry Daniel!
Once the first game ended, I decided that now was the time to accomplish my life’s mission and get all 28 players to sign my chessboard, which had come all the way from London—a well-travelled board, especially now that it’s back home in New Zealand! This, unfortunately, involved sitting out in the cold for what must’ve been about five hours waiting for the chess players to exit the building via their secret entrance one by one (or two by two, in the case of some players on good terms!) in order to ambush them brandishing a chessboard and a pen. Thankfully, I knew I was in the right place relatively quickly since Eline Roebers exited the building shortly after I found my waiting spot. She seemed happy to sign my board, and brought my signature count up to two!
Collecting signatures wasn’t easy for a shy guy like yours truly—particularly since the pen I had kept smudging! Sometimes the players would take half an hour to exit the hall after a result, but thankfully, I had some company to make the weight bearable, as I met two fellow chess enthusiasts who were also vying for signatures from their favourite chess players. Somehow, I have forgotten both of their names, but we had some nice discussions—one of them had travelled from Germany, the other was at an academic conference (or something) in Amsterdam and decided to drop in. They may have gotten fed up with my consistent jabbering about Nodirbek, but they were very polite and I was very disappointed when they both left to catch busses and trains back home.
After hours standing in the dark and the cold, Nodirbek’s game against Max Warmerdam finally finished, and I was so worried that he wasn’t going to appear that I was just waiting with bated breath the entire time pacing around the driveway outside. He was, quite literally, the last player to exit the venue, and I’m sure he didn’t expect anyone to be waiting for him.
Everyone, when I tell you that Nodirbek was the sweetest, you better believe me. After seeing clips of him giving signature after signature without saying a word at Norway Chess last year, I was worried that he was going to completely blank me and I’d be lucky to get away with his signature. Fortunately, out of the best experience I had with meeting a chess player (Divya) and the worst (Anish Giri), he exceeded Divya’s level (and when I tell you that girl was lovely) the moment he smiled and said a soft ‘thank you’ when I told him he was my favourite player in the entire world. I was so starstruck that I forgot to ask him for a photo.
Shit.
Fear not, dear reader, as I still had one final day left! That day, I ambushed some of the players early, while they were entering the venue, to get the missing signatures. This time, I was part of a crowd, and it broke my heart to see people chasing after the Masters like Giri or Ian Nepomniachtchi and completely ignoring the Challengers, but I hope that one or two people followed my example and asked for some of their signatures too.
Heartbreakingly, even after leaving the playing hall early in hopes to get the final few signatures I was missing, I missed one signature—Salem Saleh, who disappeared after his win against Harika Dronavalli and I never saw again. However, I did manage to get the signature of FM Machteld van Foreest—#2 among Dutch girls and #88 on the January women’s ranking list—so that softened the blow a little.
And yes, dear reader, I did get the picture with Nodirbek.
Overall, attending this tournament was an experience I will never forget. Though I didn’t exchange more than a few words with any of the players, in most cases the warmth shown towards their fans was a truly wonderful thing to experience—particularly from some of the younger Challengers, who still seemed in disbelief when I asked them for their signatures! Watching chess games in person was something very special for me, and I am forever grateful for this opportunity.
Peace and love from across the river!