How Playing Chess Revealed My Habits in Life

I didn't know how to play chess until I came to America.

I was taught by my husband, who is American. Setting aside the finer rules, roughly speaking, it is the Western version of Shogi. If you know Shogi, learning chess isn't that difficult. After playing a few times, I became able to put up a decent fight.

A few years ago, the Netflix series "The Queen's Gambit" became popular. It is a story depicting the life of a chess prodigy.

At that time, a bit of a chess boom occurred in America. That wave reached our home without exception.

After dinner, days began where we would sit on opposite sides of the table, staring each other down across the chessboard.

Defeating my husband is by no means easy. It seems he had a period in high school where he was deeply into chess, so our experience levels are different.

Even if I can put up a good fight from the opening to the middle game, a small mistake made somewhere along the way comes back to haunt me. Before I know it, I'm overwhelmed by defense. Even if I try to launch an attack in between, it doesn't become a decisive blow. Eventually, I get checkmated, and it's game over.

Chess requires an incredible amount of brainpower from start to finish. It also requires concentration. After it's over, I always let out a big sigh.

Besides, there are times when it is difficult to keep my emotions calm.

It's the same with Shogi, but when you lose in chess, you lose slowly and painfully. If I'm going to lose anyway, I'd rather lose quickly and refreshingly, like being thrown for an ippon in judo, but chess doesn't have that kind of quickness. It's a slow burn. Moreover, even though I know I am walking step by step toward defeat with my own feet, I cannot stop that progress. I cannot change the path either.

In chess, when you lose, you tip over your king to surrender. That is also humiliating.

I tell my children not to worry about winning or losing, and to compare themselves to their past selves rather than others. Despite that, I am an immature person who obsesses over winning and losing, feels frustrated when compared to my husband, and sometimes gets into a bad mood. Changing the consciousness that is ingrained in your body is difficult.

Recently, I played another game with my husband and lost as usual. While I was trying to maintain my composure despite having the look of a stray dog, my husband made an interesting point.

"You had a plan to lead to checkmate in a few moves, didn't you? I knew that. But your weakness is that you are afraid of sacrifice."

I cannot sacrifice what I have now and bet on future possibilities.

...Um, is this a life consultation or something?

My husband explained with a laugh. He said that if I had sacrificed my queen a few moves ago to advance, I would have had a chance.

The queen is a powerful piece. If you lose it, your combat ability drops significantly. However, there is a perfect timing for a match. If necessary, you must be willing to sacrifice and take risks.

While we were talking about that, I thought the same thing could be said about my life. It might be an exaggeration to use the word "life," but two things immediately came to mind.

The first thing is about work. When I decided to marry my husband, I worried about what to do with the job I had been doing until then. It was a job that involved frequent overseas transfers, so if I continued it, it would inevitably cause friction in relation to my husband's work. Furthermore, if we were to base our lives in the United States, I would have to be prepared for a long-distance marriage.

Even though I knew that, it took me several years to make the decision to quit. I couldn't easily let go of the job I had in my hands. I don't think that's a bad thing, but I can say that if I had decided a little sooner, I could have moved on to the next step sooner.

Another thing is about when I participated in a jiu-jitsu match. Struggling against a superior opponent, I didn't want to lose at any cost, so I couldn't take the risk to strike. I fell into a defensive posture, trying to protect the points I had gained from a takedown early on, and as a result, I was attacked and lost by a submission hold. It was a bitter experience.

The hurdle for making sacrifices is high.
That's why I naturally choose options that don't require making sacrifices.

Sometimes that's fine. Although it's difficult to judge when that is.

Chess really brings out your true nature. Or rather, you can't hide it. This is a story about how I realized that the habits of my way of life appear just as they are.

Thank you for reading.
I got Chinese takeout today, and this was the message inside the fortune cookie that came as a bonus.

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