Leading from the front

I realised that in my narcissistic depression that resulted in my last post, I failed to recognise Yuan’s amazing win over Victor Bologan.  Bologan is one of the great attacking players of the modern generation, and with a rating above 2690, is a force to be reckoned with.  But Yuan, with the black pieces no less, has shown that full time medicine studies haven’t deteriorated his game one iota, rounding out a very impressive performance and his highest ever scalp.

Yuan has had a very impressive tournament to date, really shining on board one and spearheading the team.  In addition to his performance, he once again has been a very impressive roommate, and it turns out (with the exception of football) that we even have similar television habits.  Convenient.  But the point is, with him leading the charge from the front and proving that he’s able to beat anyone on his day, the team gets that extra kick when we’re up against the world’s strongest countries.

Yuan showed that again today, winning a tight contest to record Australia’s only victory in a tough 2-2 draw with Mongolia.  I had the day off, but I really couldn’t help myself and had the games displayed live on my screen in the hotel – in team events, it’s quite hard to rest on your rest days!

Having said that, I had no problems resting yesterday morning.  The infamous Bermuda Party the night before the scheduled rest day lived up to its bidding, proving quite a late night for your author.  One massive fail from the organisers is that the line for males (who have to pay an entry fee – why doesn’t anyone complain about this sexism in sport?!) stretched outside and around the corner.  As if the cold wasn’t bad enough, at some point just after I got in, the organisers decided the club was full and turned all the other would-be partygoers back – including Magnus Carlsen!

He later got in (and was quite a photo hit with the merry fans), but many didn’t, including regular partygoers Peter Heine-Nielsen and Antoaneta Stefanova.  Meanwhile, all girls continued to be allowed in with free entry, as per tradition, thus resulting in a horrendous mismatch in the male-female ratio (but not in its usual direction…).  Curious circumstances indeed.

Besides the usual novelty factor of watching 2700s (and even two 2800s) dancing in a club, the night was a great chance for most Olympiadians to socialise and get to know the other teams.  I did have my good mate Sam Collins from Ireland vigourously explaining 2.c3-Sicilian theory to me on the dance floor, but that was the only mention of chess I heard on the night.  Restful indeed, at least for the mind.

The body is another matter.  The party finished at 5 a.m., so a big sleep-in was called for, and the breakfast hall was unusually empty (so I hear).  The rest day for most of the Australian team (and many other teams) consisted of heading to the one tourist attraction Khanty-Mansiysk has to offer: an open-air museum.  You may well wonder why this remote Siberian town has an open-air anything – I certainly do.

The attraction has a whole myriad of scaled statues of wooly mammoths, saber-tooth tigers, giant arctic bears and other Siberian creatures of ancient times, as well as mock setups of how the indigenous people lived here.  Quite facinating, actually.  We took many photos, and naturally the Aussies wanted one of a team member riding a huge mammoth.  Naturally, I obliged, arrogantly showing off my dexterity and athleticism (so I thought) by climbing one of the statues.  The first photo opportunity, to be fair, was indeed impressive.

Unfortunately, while trying to climb my second mammoth, I slipped.  One pointed metal tusk went into my shoulder.  The other went into my temple.  And the whole incident was neither dexterous nor athletic, and certainly not at all graceful.  Serves me right.  I now have two very impressive bumps to myself, and a slightly bruised ego.  That mammoth may have been dead for eons, but he still won this little battle.

Tomorrow I’m back at the board, and I tell you truthfully, I’m itching to get back into the action.  At these tournaments, chess is like a drug, and these two days have been far too long without my sixty-four squared fix. 

I want to say that losing is like falling off a bicycle, in that you should get straight back on, regardless of how much you don’t want to.  But in reality, losing here is more like burning your dinner:  you’re upset that you’ve failed, but you’re still hungry.

Well then, time to get cooking.