One must taste the pain of defeat before one can reach the path of improvement. That was my mantra. A man who has never experienced defeat has no reason to improve, but a man who's felt that pain will fight tooth and nail to avoid it.
For a while, I lost countless matches against my classmates. Even though I thought I was smarter or a stronger player than them, I still lost constantly.
Through those defeats, like a sponge, I absorbed their techniques, and their moves into my brain. I played them back to myself on repeat so I'd never forget. Every day after chess club, I would set up my chess board at home and replay the matches against myself. I'd see what it was that I could have done differently, which pieces I could have saved, and what moves I could have made.
As I practiced against myself, I listened to the audiobook my grandfather gave me on repeat. I listened to the narrator speak of strategy and the mental techniques necessary to improve and I implemented those into my training and my real matches.
Before long, I started to win matches against my peers. At the end of every week, we voted on who we thought was the best and I was steadily climbing from the very bottom.
As if I had a backpack filled with stones on my back as I clawed my way up a mountain, I climbed the rankings, continuing to improve myself with every opponent I faced. I thought of each opponent as a foothold; a foothold I'd need to make my way to the top.
Eventually, the chess club and practicing against myself weren't enough. I started playing online using a screen reader, climbing the online leaderboards. Online chess was yet another challenge for me. I couldn't use my senses to my advantage, I couldn't feel the board with my own hands, nor could I sense the moments where my opponent would hesitate.
It felt as if I had gone blind a second time. I constantly lost track of where things were on the board and I felt lost. I needed to find a way to remember where every piece was without being able to see or feel it through the screen.
I began imagining the chess board as a battlefield. On each side of the board were sixteen warriors, all with their own names, backstories, and dreams of their own.
The rooks were strong men of massive stature; like paladins, they wore heavy armor that protected every single inch of their body. Their weapons of choice were two battering rams the size of their own hulking bodies. Their names were Elbrus and Sigmund; brothers from a family of warriors.
The bishops were members of the clergy who stood beside the king and queen, protecting them with their sorcery. They wore cloaks with hoods over their heads, concealing their identity from everyone but the king. They were nameless, yet the way they cast their magic was distinct enough for one to tell them apart. One cast flame spells from his palms while the other used a staff of ice.
The knights, Jayce and Clive rode on horseback with their swords and shields in hand. They were smaller than the rooks, but they too wore armor that covered their bodies. Even their horses wore armor to protect themselves in battle. Using their trusty steeds, they hopped and skipped across the battlefield unlike any other. They'd give their lives for the king and queen in a heartbeat.
The pawns had no names, nor did they have any distinct traits. They wore rags because they were just that, pawns. Nothing more and nothing less. They were to be commanded by the king to their deaths, though a few lucky souls would return home once the battle ceased.
That leaves the King and the Queen. The King was a massive man, incapable of truly engaging in combat like the units who surrounded him. However, his wife was agile and a capable fighter. Those who lived to see her fight would say she was the most powerful warrior they'd ever witnessed.
As I played the game. I pictured these warriors on the battlefield and I was their commander. When I put myself on the battlefield with them, it helped me remember everything. Each battle was completely different.
When I lost a piece, it was as if I lost a man and it made me respect each piece as if they were alive. Even the pawns had value despite having to be sacrificed.
Seeing the board like this instantly improved my vision of the board and my win rate began to rise. I started implementing this way of thinking into my in-person matches, and I could tell
I was improving at an exponential rate.
At the end of the school year, I was ranked second in the chess club. On the final day, we had a tournament and it wouldn't be hard to guess who faced off in the grand finals.
It was me against Zayn. He refused to play against me the entire year because of my disability, he said it was a waste of his time. However, he couldn't run from me this time unless he wanted to throw the tournament. Zayn was too much of a cocky little bastard to forfeit the year-end tournament.
As I sat across from him, I could hear him scoffing and muttering to himself. Even though I was voted second best, he couldn't believe that I was the one in front of him in the end.
"Just so you know, I'm not going to go easy on you like everyone else."
"That's fine with me. I want you to play the best game of chess that you've ever played in your life. I want to learn from you." I could imagine him scrunching his nose at me once I said this to him, but it was true.
Even if I lost, this match would be a learning experience for me and it would put me one step closer to my true goal: Defeating my grandfather.
However, losing wasn't in the plans. I was going to beat him, even if it was the last thing I did.
After all those months of hearing his shit talk while dodging me only made this moment all the more monumental.
Our armies stood face to face, both sixteen strong. Our pawns were on the front lines, ready to die for their king while the rest readied their weapons.
I could hear Zayn lift his arm and reach for the board, commanding a piece forward.
"Knight to F3."
His knight galloped forward, landing in front of a pawn on the left side of the battlefield, marking the start of our soon-to-be long-fought battle.
