Seven years ago my chess trainer at the time, Gregory Kaidanov, introduced me to the concept of "maintaining the tension." The idea is that a position is often very tense and the inclination of a weaker player is to relieve the strain on his or her psyche by releasing some of the tension. This can be done by various simplifying mechanisms such as trading material, locking down the pawn structure, or making some irreversible change in the nature of the position. The stronger player will tend to prefer to keep tension in the position psychologically because he or she will be more adept at handling difficult situations; but more critically, there is a fascinatingly delicate tension that objectively exists in plex chess positions. The two players can gradually improve their positions, but the first one to make the critical break will be at a disadvantage when the game explodes into the concrete.
Have you ever noticed the way a cat stalks a mouse or a lizard? The cat will inch up to it and then they will both freeze into motionlessness. Usually the prey will be the first to move, and at the first twitch the cat springs on it with lightning quickness--the mouse gives its direction up--shows it's cards first--and the cat just leaps onto where it is headed. Dogs, on the other hand, tend to be far more exuberant and are less impressive hunters. They will bark and charge after a squirrel which will easily scamper off and run up a tree.
To play chess with feline patience, attentiveness, and precision takes years of work. But I would mend a slightly different language than Kaidanov's with which to approach the issue. There is no doubt that "maintain the tension" speaks well to what is happening on the chess board, but psychologically I would prefer to "be present." The mouse, after all, is destroyed by mounting tension (or fear) and the cat is simply poised. I have consistently observed this contrast in petitive life as both a chess player and a martial artist. When the p
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