More about Smyslovin the role of exchampion
If a man may be summed up by a single characteristic, then the most suitable one for Smyslov as a chess player would be - assurance. Not only in his method of play but also in his movements Smyslov gives this impression. Tall and strongly built, he walks firmly and steadily, his speech is quiet, but not condescending, his movements slow and dignified, in whatever he says there is always a tincture of delicate irony. It is not pomposity but good humour, which perhaps stems from Smyslov's belief that he is above petty human weaknesses.
Smyslov's humour is without malice and springs from his own feeling of impartiality. If he is an artist in chess, he is also a scientist. He has never been interested in psychological tricks, only in objective values. It is characteristic that, perhaps from prejudice, Smyslov for a long time regarded the King's Indian Defence as a half-correct system in which Black does not pay enough heed to space. While almost all Soviet grandmasters have owed many of their successes to this system of play, Smyslov remained true to himself and resisted the general fashion for several years, even though it afforded obvious advantages to his rivals. For a long time others took first place, but Smyslov obstinately continued to go his own way. It was as if he believed: what I create neither time nor fresh analyses will erase. When the vogue for fixed systems passed, Smyslov's moment had come.
Smyslov makes his moves as coldly as if his thoughts were unaccompanied by any sort of emotion. None the less, he is not an automaton but a man. When his opponents try to make things awkward for him, he begins involuntarily to set down his pieces with greater emphasis. Is he angry at something in his opponent or in himself?
That he never loses his head was shown at a banquet in Switzerland. Smyslov was asked to sing, as music was his lifelong interest apart from chess. He was accompanied by an amateur choir of Swiss provincial officials, which had striven as a surprise to learn for the occasion a Russian song. Smyslov, unworried, sang 'Stenka Razin' in his strong baritone voice, as if unaware of the strident sounds which assailed him. He assiduously carried out his part as soloist, leaving the 'choir of Swiss Cossacks' to do as it liked, and then once more patiently took over the melody. Though the grandmaster was the high spot of the evening, those present eagerly awaited the close. Not for a moment did Smyslov become confused. He calmly accepted his share of the applause and sat down once more at his table.
In what state of mind did Smyslov appear at his third Candidates' Tournament in 1959 in Yugoslavia, now as former world champion? Alone among the participants Smyslov had no happy illusions. He had had to step down in order to give himself the chance of returning to his former position. Within himself he was probably irritated with Botvinnik, who had contrived his right to a return match and had forced it through the disinterested fide Congress, just at the time when his first deposition from the throne was imminent in 1957. If the results of both their matches, in 1957 and in 1958 (when Botvinnik recovered his title) were collated, Smyslov still had one more game to his credit.
What sort of situation had arisen? Botvinnik, sitting inviolate at
Moscow, still had his rights, while Smyslov, the ex-world champion, was levelled with the others and had to wander through the world, once more enduring the fiercest competition from other grandmasters before he could create the possibility of revenge, which Botvinnik had obtained so simply and easily. It was very exhausting. As Smyslov said in public at Kiev, he must this time destroy the law of probability and for the third time running be victorious in the Candidates' Tournament, which was a
'pretty difficult task'.
Two photos, found by chance in some leaflet, arouse thoughts of the impennanence of fame. In one of them Smyslov, burdened with a 'symbolic' but enormous laurel wreath about his shoulders, stands frowning and exceedingly dignified, looking straight ahead of him as if gazing at the accomplishment of his dreams, as if conscious that the world championship was his by right. He had achieved so much in one decade and his efforts had been crowned with success after his second attempt in six years. In the other photo Smyslov is seen emerging, smiling and excited, into the street as the new world champion, surrounded by an admiring crowd. Nothing but success gives a face such an expression of satisfaction and serenity.
All this was quickly lost in a moment of natural and inescapable relaxation. Tacit indignation at the injustice of his position could avail him nothing. For many years to come he would not succeed in obtaining his unrecognized rights.
'It is very difficult to win first place in the Candidates' Tournament even once/ someone said before Amsterdam in 1956, 'and twice is impossible.' Smyslov accomplished the 'impossible'. When a man like this is in question, one who sits at a chessboard like an immovable rock, the law of probability loses value - but only once.
For six years he wrestled stoically with his rivals and with Botvinnik, till at last, in 1957, he wrested the title from him in the ninth year of Botvinnik's reign. That the whole of that superhuman effort should be swept away after only a year was a blow which could discourage anyone.
After the lost match Vasily appeared for the first time abroad at the Munich Olympiad in 1958. The inquisitive expected some change in the thirty-seven-year-o 1 d ex-champion, who had till recently dominated the international scene. Smyslov's sovereign calm, however, appeared unruffled. His reaction was more like one of wonder that the lost opportunity could have occurred. He did not blame his form so much as his health during the return match. That was a sign that he still had not lost the will, that like Sisyphus he would once more push the same rock up the same hill, and that, if need be, he would still play a fourth, or a fifth, match with Botvinnik. Time, however, swept all that away.
By i960 Smyslov was waiting in the wings, for the first time surpassed by others. He had needed two victories at the Candidates' Tournament, two matches with Botvinnik (that is to say twice as many as his rivals) to become world champion. And then - his laurels had remained green for only a year.
But for the return match he would have had a year's rest, fame and social satisfaction, filled with hospitality on both sides of the ocean. Smyslov had had to renounce all that and to think constantly - and unwillingly - of his great rival. It seemed that Smyslov, in the logical order of things, had initiated a fresh epoch. Unexpectedly, even for Smyslov himself, the healthy Botvinnik arose from his too precipitately dug grave, and restored the old order once again.
Smyslov had to take a step back, to the spot where he had been earlier -the Candidates' Tournament. The mischievous tactics of Tal dealt the supremacy of Smyslov's style an even heavier blow. Two more steps back - to the very beginning! After a long time Smyslov would again appear in the Soviet championships. Only after that would come the Interzonal Tournament, then the Candidates' Tournament. How terribly distant, all of a sudden, were Botvinnik and Tal!
They asked Smyslov:
'Who is your most dangerous opponent?'
'In chess, as in life, a man is his own most dangerous opponent.'
'To what extent does chess play a role in your life?'
'Fifty per cent.' (The other fifty per cent was probably opera singing.)
'What is your greatest ambition?'
'Nothing. I have abandoned all my ambitions.'
Through chess he expressed his thoughts; through singing, his emotions. He had had to forsake singing because of chess, and chess meant a road entangled by thorns, far longer than ever before.
At the concluding ceremony of the Leipzig Olympiad in i960 both rivals won cups. Botvinnik was serene; he had the best result on the second board which he regarded as an encouraging sign before his return match with Tal. Smyslov's face betrayed the opposite reaction. He also returned from the dais with a cup for the best score as - first reserve! His expression spoke volumes.
I never saw Smyslov so reserved as at that Olympiad. But his step was full of energy, clearly that of a man burning with impatience to restore things to their proper place.
jjc seldom talked; as if every word spoken meant a watering down of resolution. His road was a long one. He must begin literally at the beginning----
But he did not give the impression that his resolve had weakened.
We in Europe did not often meet Smyslov in the following years. For chess seasons he wandered a good deal in Latin America, taking first prize wherever he appeared-in Argentina, Chile and Cuba. In the meantime he lost, astonishingly easily, his match in the first round of the challengers' matches, as if he wanted to free himself from official matches is soon as possible. He was expected to play Botvinnik. But Botvinnik announced his withdrawal at the last moment and, instead of 'old Misha', [efim Geller, probably Smyslov's most difficult opponent, appeared. For Geller had beaten him in a match for the Soviet Championship (five draws and one win) and that many years before when Smyslov was at the height of his powers and had seemed almost invincible.
Geller was small of stature but physically extremely robust (he was an excellent basket-ball player) and Smyslov chose a strange method of preparation before meeting him at the chessboard; the tall and quiet Smyslov took boxing lessons. But, as we know, it was all in vain.
Among the great players there are some completely devoted to chess and to chess alone, whereas others have other interests or at least hobbies. Smyslov certainly belongs to the second group. One gets the impression that he wanted to become an opera singer more than anything else, but his exceptional gifts transformed him into a chess champion. He had no other profession than chess. None the less, he always remained divided within himself.
There is something strange in Smyslov's personality. He is ready to make a quick draw, even with White, as for example with Reshevsky at Mar del Plata or with me at Monte Carlo. At other times he wins by making his usual simple moves (are they really so simple?) when he feels that the moment is ripe. It might be thought that he is lazy by nature; nevertheless, among contemporary masters, it is he who has invented the greatest number of basic new ideas in the Ruy Lopez, French Defence, Caro-Kann, Queen's Gambit accepted, Slav Defence, the Nimzo-Indian, the Griinfeld Defence, the English Opening, and even in irregular systems. He has an intuitive genius for maintaining the balance or taking the initiative. He also has an exceptional talent for the endgame, but he has no love for the patient memorizing of variations, as modern competitive chess more and more requires.
2 Botvinnik-Tal 1959-1961
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