An end to post-mortems

I suppose we’ve all been there. You’ve played a decent enough game and you’re looking at sustaining an advantage; then  the mistake comes, and the next thing you know you’re looking to hold on for a draw. Some accurate play from the opponent, and that’s it. An intense disappointment and a haunting from that losing move.

So what do you need after that disaster? I don’t know about other people, but in my case I can tell you what I don’t need: a gleeful opponent saying "Would you like you go over the game?". I sometimes say "Not really - I’m not sure if there would be much value in that" only to be countered with "Oh, I’d like to" and the sight of him setting up the board again and looking admiringly at his scoresheet.

Well of course you want to relive it, you sod. You won the game and you’re going to love going over it time and again. But I don’t, mate. I know where I went wrong and it will bother me for long enough without you rubbing it in.

Which is why I have only very rarely met a losing opponent who wants to go over the game. Now that suits me – win or lose, I don’t like post-mortems, and I absolutely have no wish to appear smug to my opponents. After all, a handshake and an apologetic "Yes, I’ve done that myself plenty of times" is surely enough.

But the sheer cockiness of some people is unbelievable. I’ve been subjected to all sorts of one-sided assessments of the game, where the alternatives of disagreeing (and risking unpleasantness) and keeping quiet are equally unappealing. Best to shut up, I think, and let the guy have his few minutes.

For it is a feature of post-mortems that the winner never makes inferior moves, and in addition to that is an expert in opening theory; I was once told with confident authority by an opponent that such and such a move was inferior – an opponent who moved the conversation on pretty swiftly when I pointed out that it was a new idea by Korchnoi which had brought him immediate success in the recent Olympiad. Ye gods:  who needs Mark Dvoretsky when just across the table you have a 1600 who knows everything?

Now you’re probably imagining that I must be a rather surly individual: grumpy, unsporting, bad loser… everything that the thesaurus could throw at me, in fact. But I’m not sure. I’ve mentioned before the reluctance of losing opponents to demand a post-mortem – which means I’m not in a tiny minority - and yes there are occasional times when a post-mortem is indeed welcome:

The opponent must be a decent, non-triumphalist sort of a guy of course. That’s the first thing. Another factor is the grading of the opponent: I have no objection to learning something in post-mortem from a much more highly graded player, and have mostly been very happy to hear the advice of better players. Another example might be a well-fought draw with someone about the same standard as myself; these can be quite interesting, and tend not to bring along with them the niggles of most post-mortems.

So some post game discussions are fine; but for the rest? No thank you. I’ll be going over my mistakes soon enough, thank you.

Footnote: If there’s anything worse than an opponent babbling on about how well they played, it’s the passing stranger gobbing off about something he saw in your game. How do people imagine they have the right to come up to your table and start on about their ideas? Excuse me! Mind your own business, please. My games are between myself and my opponent and have nothing to do with a wandering rent-a-gob. Sheesh. No wonder chess can be stressful.