The case for chess and coffee

Much ado about coffee

If you've played chess more than a few times you'll know that your results are very much linked to your state of mind.

My fellow chessheads, feel free to nod your head in agreement; if you feel good, optimistic, sharp, these feelings naturally play out on the board as you skillfully defend your king - whilst simultaneously applying pressure till your opponent cracks.

But, when we feel negative, drained, scattered, then this is reflected in a lacklustre performance that can be worlds apart from the chess we know we're capable of.

The Rza said something similar to this in his book, The Tao of the Wu; it was the first time I'd come across someone articulate my experience and I remember thinking, ahhh, so I'm not alone...

Now, this brings me to coffee - specifically its chief component, caffeine - as many can attest, a fresh brew is a reliable vehicle for delivering a tasty dose of motivation.

Recently, there was a spat of media reports about a study that confirmed that chess performance could be verifiably increased by taking cognitive enhancing substances (affectionately called smart drugs or nootropics) such as caffeine.

Now, I love me some empirical data as much as the next person. But, truth be told, this news wasn't much of a revelation considering my years of rock solid anecdotal evidence. I (along with most office workers all over the globe) realised long ago that coffee does indeed sharpen your focus, especially when crawling through an afternoon slump - a cup of the brown stuff can do wonders for your productivity.

No surprise then that my habit extends to chess; I always try to guzzle a cup of the hard stuff before playing a competitive game. A mere beverage isn't going to play moves for me, but I like to think it shifts the gears of my mind up a notch, on occasion.

Thus, for me, chess and coffee have become the most complimentary dynamic duo since rice and peas.

1984

Like many things, I eventually got around to George Orwell's classic, 1984 late in life. I feel like this is why my appreciation is probably deeper than it might otherwise have been had I only read it as a young'n.

I could bleet about Orwell's prescience in foretelling the now ubiquitous, insidious fake news; or how current events echo the precise sentiments expressed in 1984. But, I'd only be joining an already overcrowded chorus. Instead, allow me draw your attention to the closing chapter where the protagonist, Winston, ponders his allegorical interpretation of chess puzzles:

As the story drew to an end, I was already a big fan, but this final chess scene was the cherry on the cake. Winston, a broken man, sitting in The Chestnut Tree (café), lamenting over a chess puzzle, what better way to close the curtain.

Chesspresso!

It's been said, in this day and age, the most common way to play chess in England is in a pub. This is probably true, but, for me, coffee shops are the best battleground.

Traditionally, competitive chess is played in the thickest of silences. Go against the code by being too chatty and you'll quickly learn the error of your ways after receiving a barrage of daggers and chastisement. Social chess on the other hand is much more relaxed affair; it has no problem existing in the chatty spaces of coffee shops. Personally, I'm quite fond of playing in Pret and Starbucks; they generally play the kind of down tempo music that is conducive to a friendly game of chess, the clientele are usually not very shouty and Starbucks in Clapham Junction can even boast a chess board design directly on one of its tables.

For the price of a coffee you get a warm room, some comfy furniture and the distinct feeling that you're partaking in a regal pastime among your loyal subjects. This obviously provides some much needed nourishment for a fragile chess ego; it also has the additional benefit of encouraging the occasional spectator to dust off their chess set and get to chessing, too.