“Dad, can’t you try the left lane? It seems to be moving faster than our lane. ” I suggested, fidgeting in the car seat. It was already seven past three in the afternoon and the games had most likely began at three on the dot, not one minute earlier, not one minute later. If there is one person that never keeps time, it’s my dad. He is a habitual and notorious late comer. Time and again I had to scroll through the contact list in his cell phone and contact, one, or another trainer, or organizers and plea to officially register us for the tournaments. I was used to his lateness but not so amused by it.
The exit is just a few meters ahead and then we should be there. ” Dad said, not taking his eyes of the road, but for a passing glance at my worried face. “We should make it without problems, don’t you worry. ” He added noticing my worry and concern. As it turns out, we barely made it. Like a kangaroo, I jumped out of the car as soon as he parked and ran up to the building. I hopped up the stairs leading to the foyer, where a board had been erected and the pairing and standing list pinned. There was a small crowd gathered in groups. Some were sipping coffee in the weathered grey, vintage drafting pub tables.
Others were discussing chess and other things. Without wasting any more time, not even stopping to catch my breath, I frantically searched my name in the pairings list, to establish which table I was placed at. A man noticed me. He quickly came and took me by the hand, then led me inside the tournament hall. Once inside, he proceeded to direct me to my seat. All this without saying a single word. Before I could even thank him, he was gone. Turning my attention back to my table, I extended my hand in greeting to my opponent, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline, who had removed his horn glasses and was polishing them.
He eyed my hand like one does a dead fish, then returned to cleaning up is glasses. I had four minutes before I forfeited my game, so I quickly wrote down my name and forgot to write my opponent’s. Just like that, the game started. I didn’t feel ready. Arriving late had me still on edge and I didn’t have enough time to get in the zone and mentally ready for the match. I made my first move hastily, while he played his first five moves fast, in rapid succession. Not wanting to fall behind, I meat each one just as fast, every now and then looking at my time. I didn’t need to worry about time. I had two hours to make my forty moves.
Funny enough, I felt as if I was under constant time pressure because my opponent had thirty minutes’ time advantage over me. The next eleven moves followed a line that I was quite used to and my opponent seemed very comfortable with the lines as well. • Since I had finally got a good rhythm going and the match was following a pattern of moves that I was very familiar with, I became complement and must have let my mind drift as my comfort levels grew. Suddenly, I reached with my hand, ready to make my next move when something I hadn’t anticipated happened. “I accidently touched the knight with the tip of my thumb.
What I actually wanted to do was move the rook to the b3 square” I told him, knowing damn well that was a lie. “Had I noticed your intention, and noticed the accidental move I would have let you play the move you intended, but that was not the case. ” The man stated, frowning at me. “It is the case. Really! ” I insisted, shedding a tear. My opponent, a man almost my father’s age, looked at my dad shaking his head in disapproval and repeated, “That wasn’t the case. ” The disappointment in my dad’s face and that of others standing nearby, made it even worse for me to stop the tears from falling.
We concluded the game and the analysis then, bade farewell. “Do you know who a Narcissist is, Ty? ” My dad asked, on our way home. “I have heard of the word Nazi before and I think a Nazi is…” I replied, confidently nodding my head. “No no no, for goodness sake; that’s not what I mean. ” Dad said, trying to hide a smile as he shook his head. I looked at him confused. “A Narcissist knows right from wrong, but can’t accept the wrongs to be their fault, so, they begin blaming other people for their mistakes; or blame their thumb for being too long and knocking off the wrong pieces unintentionally.
Dad explained. “Am I nassi…? ” I asked, looking at him with big eyes. I was petrified by the idea. “Are you one? ” Dad asked with a shrug. It was very typical of my dad to answer a question with a question. “I don’t know! ” I replied, throwing my hands up in defeat. “The man said it was not an accident, yet, you say it was not intentional. ” Dad said. I was ready to reply with a snarky remark in my defence, when I felt his hand gently land on my shoulder, “Just because he is much older than you, does not mean he is right.
I suppose,” I murmured, feeling slightly comforted by the fact that he seemed to be giving me the benefit of the doubt. After a while of driving in silence, Dad said, “Try to go back to the game and especially to that particular position. Try to put yourself in that specific moment, think of what was taking place in your mind, your emotions and recall how that moment felt for you. Then, try to remember exactly how it happened. You can lie to me, but you don’t need to and most of all, don’t lie to yourself. ” At first I thought what dad was asking of e was impossible.
But little by little, I started reflecting on the game, bringing myself back to that moment and it felt as if I was actually there. Suddenly, I had the answer. If the mistakes are yours—take responsibility. I had done the opposite. By blaming the mistake on an accidental sly of the hand, I had denied all responsibility of the mistake I made. Don’t play the victim, it won’t get you anywhere. I had done just that too. By playing the victim, claiming to have done what I did and forcing a tear out of my eye, I victimised myself and hoped the mistake would be overlooked.
Instead, I got the opposite results and the situation quickly grew out of my control. “You need to start recognizing your failures. ” Dad said, as if knowing that I’ve reached an understanding of what had transpired in the match, “No one remains undefeated over an entire career, and no one succeeds without failing. It’s easy to create an image, a character who never fails. You might even dupe people into buying this image. This might get you ahead, especially in the short term. But you’ll never be able to convince yourself.
You might be able to outrun your failures for a time, but they always catch up. If you don’t deal with them, they’ll pile up and crush you underneath. You’ll break down, your game will suffer and so will the people around you. ” Dad was right. I was disappointed in myself because I hadn’t admitted my failures. I didn’t take responsibility for them. Instead, I made up lies and excuses and they got me nowhere. I let my mistakes pile up, and my playing became a dangerous game. “You have to start getting used to failing and stop making excuses.
Blaming others for your failures only shows one thing: a weakness of character. By deflecting your mistakes onto others, throwing them under the bus, you risk destroying your reputation, respect and trustworthiness. Even if you deflect onto an opponent, you will be avoiding a learning experience, or a high point in your career. ” I nodded, while hanging on to his every wise word. “A strong man accepts his failures and uses them to learn. They pave the way to success, they’re not the pitfalls that they think they are. Failure has much to teach you. ” Dad continued saying.
Like what? ” I asked suddenly, then gasped, I had spoken the question without even thinking. But I wanted to know because I couldn’t repeat the same mistake again. “A failure of character can help build you into the person you want to become. Failing in a match can teach you its own lessons as well. ” I nodded and waited eager to hear more of what he had to say. “The next time you experience a setback, don’t make an excuse. See it as a challenge, learn from it and move on. Excuses are distractions, and they reduce your confidence and self-belief. You don’t want that, do you? ”
Dad paused to gage a response from me, so I shook my head slightly.? He smiled, glad to see that I was finally understanding why things had gone the way they did and what to do to prevent the same from happening again, “I thought so, especially when you still have a lot to show the world. ” Distracted by thoughts, reflections and his wise advice, I hadn’t noticed we had already arrived home. The ride back seemed to have taken just a few minutes, not the eternity that the drive to the tournament had taken. We both got out of the car and clapping my shoulder, dad smiled and guided me inside our home.
