Wednesday, 18 December 2024
Wednesday, 18 December 2024
On December 12, in a tense room in Singapore, 18-year-old Gukesh Dommaraju sat across from defending World Chess champion Ding Liren, on the verge of etching his name into history.
The World Chess Championship was tied at 6.5-6.5 after 13 games. The final game was anticipated to be a masterpiece of strategy and resilience. It turned out to be just that — but for reasons no one could have predicted.
As the clock ticked down, Ding, known for his calm demeanor and exceptional endgame skills, appeared poised to force a draw and take the match to rapid tiebreaks, where he would have an edge.
Gukesh, in contrast, seemed unnervingly calm for an 18-year-old in the most crucial game of his life. His focus never wavered, even as the board revealed no clear openings for a decisive victory.
Then it happened — a move so baffling that it shocked even the unflappable Gukesh.
Ding slid his rook from f4 to f2 — a move so seemingly routine that it barely registered at first. Gukesh paused, his eyes narrowing as he studied the board. Was this a trap? He leaned in closer, his mind racing through the possibilities, but none of them held.
There was no trap. There was only an inexplicable opening, a glaring opportunity handed to him on a silver platter in the World Chess Championship’s most crucial moment.
The silence in the room grew deafening as Gukesh recalculated the sequence. It was all there, plain as daylight: A simple exchange of rooks, followed by a decisive bishop maneuver, would render Ding helpless.
Two of Gukesh’s pawns would march toward promotion, unchallenged, while Ding’s lone pawn stood stranded, his king impotent against the inevitable.
The realisation hit Ding like a thunderclap. His eyes widened as the blunder revealed itself in all its horror. Then, as if the weight of the moment had crushed him, his head sank into his hands. He froze, a portrait of disbelief and despair, the defending champion crumbling under the magnitude of his error.
When he finally made his move, securing the win, Gukesh broke into tears, his face buried in his hands. Ding rose and offered a handshake, acknowledging his defeat. The youngest world champion in chess history had been crowned, but the chess world wasn’t ready to celebrate just yet.
The controversy erupted almost immediately. Andrei Filatov, the outspoken president of the Russian Chess Federation, wasted no time in alleging foul play. In a scathing social media post, he accused Ding of deliberately throwing the game.
“The behaviour of the Chinese player during the decisive moments is highly suspicious and warrants a thorough investigation by FIDE,” Filatov declared. He called the blunder “inexplicable,” suggesting that Ding’s actions were unbecoming of a player at his level.
The claims ignited a firestorm. Former world champion Vladimir Kramnik piled on, calling the game “disappointingly weak” and labeling Ding’s blunder “childish.”
Even casual observers found the move shocking, with some wondering if the immense pressure of the moment had caused Ding to crack.
Ding addressed the situation with grace. “I was totally in shock when I realised I had made a blunder. It took me some time to process it. I have no regrets, though. Gukesh played brilliantly and deserved the victory,” he said at the post-match press conference.
Yet, questions lingered. The move to f2 wasn’t just a miscalculation; it was a monumental error that even amateur players would avoid. Ding’s otherwise strong performance throughout the championship made the mistake all the more puzzling.
For Gukesh, the road to the championship was anything but easy. His rise in the chess world had been meteoric, drawing comparisons with his idol, Viswanathan Anand.
While many had expected Rameshbabu Praggnanandhaa of India or Hikaru Nakamura of the US to dominate the tournament, it was Gukesh who emerged as the dark horse, defeating top players like the Iranian Alireza Firouzja and Azerbaijani Nijat Abasov on his way to the final.
Gukesh’s preparation was meticulous, supported by a team that included Indian stalwart Pentala Harikrishna and rapid chess expert Jan-Krzysztof Duda.
Facing Ding in the championship, Gukesh displayed a mix of youthful energy and old-school classical chess brilliance. He fought for every inch of the board, often squeezing victories out of drawn positions.
By the third game, he had found his rhythm, outmaneuvering Ding in the Queen’s Gambit Declined and pinning his opponent’s bishop in an endgame that showcased his ability to capitalise on the slightest of weaknesses.
Still, Ding was no pushover. In games 9 and 10, Gukesh pressed hard, cornering Ding in seemingly unwinnable positions. The Chinese champion clawed back, salvaging draws with inspired defensive play.
By game 13, Ding seemed to have the upper hand mentally, steering Gukesh toward rapid tiebreaks, where his experience would likely prevail.
Then came game 14, the finale. It wasn’t supposed to end this way—not with a single, devastating blunder. But it’s certainly not the first time either.
The chess world was reminded of similar moments in history, like Garry Kasparov’s first title in 1985, when Anatoly Karpov hesitated on a decisive pawn push, or Bobby Fischer’s victory over Boris Spassky in 1972, marked by tension and unexpected errors.
Ding’s mistake, though, will stand as one of the most glaring in modern chess history.
Amid the controversy, one truth remains clear: Gukesh’s victory was no fluke. His preparation, mental resilience and ability to stay calm under pressure were extraordinary.
Ding’s blunder may have handed him the decisive moment, but Gukesh’s journey to that point was filled with battles won through sheer grit and brilliance.
In the aftermath, debates will continue. Was Ding’s mistake a product of the immense psychological strain of defending his title? Could Filatov’s allegations actually hold any weight?
Without a Fide investigation, these are merely rhetorical questions.
For now, the chess world can only marvel at the emergence of a new star. At 18, Gukesh has become a symbol of India’s chess renaissance, a beacon for young players aspiring to greatness.
The road ahead will be challenging — defending the crown is often harder than winning it. But if this championship has shown anything, it’s that Gukesh possesses not just the talent but also the resilience to carve out a lasting legacy.
