I will be graduating Knox College on June 6th, married August 9th, and a week later taking classes in grad school. I came to college as a fire breathing, capitalist, Jewish, anti-conformist radical. I leave college as a more refined fire-breathing, capitalist, Jewish, anti-conformist radical. By radical, I mean arguing with everyone about every topic because I dislike conformity of opinion. My fiance claims I am one of the most loud-mouthed opinionated people she has ever met.
But really, that not who I am. I am a math/econ geek, who played chess frequently in his youth, survived cancer that infested my body before I was born, suffered from negligent and incompetent parents, and happened to miraculously find himself attending a liberal arts college. I wish to focus on one particular thing that matters to me: chess. What follows below is a an entry from my blog at xanga.
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on=n} (edited to make it flow better)
Chess Part 1
Chess is my secret passion. I have many good memories of it and have achieved impossible things playing the game. I was once known as the underdog, the prodigy, the kid that that shows such humility, but such arrogance in refusing to give up. The kid that needs to be stopped, to finally, the kid that is admired. My personality today, developed from my chess playing. To think, if it was not for my father randomly bringing out the chess board when I was in third grade, if it wasn't for me randomly playing with the pieces, and if wasn't for us moving to Highland soon after, I would lack my strongest skill. Yet, I would probably still have a relationship with my parents if I had not gotten involved with the game. But, no regrets.
When I started playing chess it was the first real after school activity I showed interest in (as it turns out, the only one). My amusement was mostly achieved by pissing off my teachers and toeing the line. I was damn good at it. My father taught me chess first and I picked up the rules instinctively. I went to the first chess club meeting at Highland elementary in September of my 4th grade year. I sat down and started randomly playing people. I lost my first game, and won the next. I lost a few more and got another win. I was up against more experienced players, but did more then hold my own with a minimal education.
My first tournament was not against children, but full grown adult males. Intimated? No. Excited for kicking ass? Yes, that was most definitely my attitude. I am aggressive when it comes to showing of my skills and chess was one big adventure that I used to forget my ills with reality. A bare 4 months after learning how to play I was going up against grizzled old men who had years of experience. I lost my first three rounds. Humiliated, I was determined to win my final round. I played against the only other kid there who was more inexperienced. I crushed him. This gave me the confidence to say that I won at least one game in the tournament. I have never shown a goose egg in any tournament. Part of that, is my private arrogance/determination. Loosing is unpleasant to me, thus I fight to the end with some incredible comebacks.
By December, I could beat everyone in my school's chess club regularly, except one person. I tied for third in the local tournament we had, but it was a poor showing I had no intention of repeating. I went to my first scholastic tournament in January. I won 4 games out of 6. Unheard of for someone to do so well after only two real tournaments. I went on to do even better. I started winning trophies, medals, and various honors. My success can be attributed to many things in the early days. I was being coached by three people. My father, the chess team coach, and a local tournament director, which my family came closer to in subsequent years. The first thing I learned was endgames. "Endgames are the most important part of the game", my coach claims. I learned endgames rapidly (and I mean rapidly) and to this day I am exceptional when it comes to endgame play. I suspect I could hold my own against masters. I was the one who solved the puzzles the fastest, who learned basic mating strategies in a snap, or grasped the significance of knowing how to play the endgame well. I became so good, I was outmatching my father, my coach, and even the tournament director. I started playing in more adult tournaments and winning more. Imagine how pissed these old guys are when they see a 80 pound 4th grader beating you. Most kids don't play in adult tournaments because they fear grouchy critical adults. However, I was an exception. I had no fear of losing, no fear of having my play criticized, or of being called a kid all the time.I know how intimidating adults can be. I have played many and have truly humiliated some of them.
The next great contribution to my improvements came from my opponents. I would often asked the adults to go over the game with me to help me learn from mistakes. I learned how to play openings better, how to avoid clever traps, how to think better, how to process moves more efficiently. I unleashed this on the scholastic world and I truly became a beast. My first state tournament I won 5 games out of seven. Better then any one person on my team. I went to my first national tournament and won 5 games out of 7. Keep in mind this is 8 months after I started playing. I was going up against the big dogs of the country for my grade level. What is amazing is how disappointed I was when I lost games at these tournaments. I was sure I would keep winning. My parents also made it clear how unhappy they were at my losses, but at this time they forgave me for it.
My fifth grade year could be claimed as my most successful year, but I believe my freshman year was better. I was unstoppable by the time school started. I spent countless hours teaching myself chess. No books, no trainers, just me and my imagination. No one in Highland could beat me except my dad a third of the time. I became unofficially the chess team captain. There was a brief rivalry between the coach's son and I. But after each successful win against Mark, I was acknowledged the better and more fitting for the role. Since then, Mark and I never had issues. I quickly became known as the person that refuses to compromise. I went for a win always. I never asked for a draw unless forced, never resigned until checkmated, never told my opponent he forgot to hit his clock. In the chess world, resigning is considered proper when you are clearly lost. I, from the beginning, said screw proper. I do things my way. I have angered so many people because of my refusal to follow such etiquette. Mostly, because I pull off a surprise or two when I don't give in.
I took first prize many times in scholastic tournaments in fifth grade. I went to state and went 5.5 out of 7. I was up against stiffer competition and, as the a start of tradition, the key game I lost was to an Asian. I still did better then the previous year and was rewarded for it. I let Chicago know a new threat was entering their sphere.
My proudest achievement of the year, and as some say of my lifetime, was the national chess championship. I was hot and I knew it. Less then a month after state and I was vying for first place of the nation in the final round. None other then the New York State Champion, who was personally taught by Bruce Pandolfini ( a prestigious American chess author and Master of chess), was the person I had to beat to have a shot. To make matters worse, his team mates surrounded me throughout the match trying to intimidate me. Many hostile looks were thrown my way, but they underestimated my desire to win. I was alone, no parents, no chess team, no support. The critical moment came, when he played a move and was one move away from checkmate. I desperately looked for a way out and couldn't find one. I sat back and thought... a lot. I let my eyes relax and contemplated my defeat. Suddenly my vision cleared and I saw a brilliant move. It not only stopped mate, but won material. I missed it, as did my opponent, because of how messy the board was. The position was complicated and confusing. I played the move, got up to use the bathroom, and was greeted by the Hikaru Nakamura . He told me, "Beat him." Hikaru, was the youngest master in American history at the time, and was damn good. He is now one of the highest rated American players, and has world championship hopes. I did win and Nakamura drew, so I tied for first place with two other people. I could now claim that I was a national champion for my grade level (6.5 out of 7). My poor opponent burst into tears in the lobby and I saw Bruce comforting him. Nothing but shock was on their faces. Some poor hill billy in southern Illinois just beat a New York State Champion, so elegantly and simply, too. In 20 months I went from learning how to play chess to being a national champion. Almost, unheard of, especially with my lack of training.
My father brought my trophy to school and showed them my recent success. I was slightly bigger then the trophy. My next year of scholastic tournaments was relentless. I lost maybe once or twice out of 60 games. No draws. I was winning and winning. My team improved and we started winning first place (as a team) on a regular basis for as long as I was around. I was winning money at adult tournaments. That was the year I won a hundred dollars and my parents later lost the hundred dollar bill.
I have 3 other parts of my essay on chess, but the diary is long enough. I edited for my more up to date knowledge of grammar and organization.
I hope to publish in the next two weeks the results of my research on Black-Scholes. I hope some here on this site will be interested because I found some disturbing results that question the system of option pricing and long run health of our economic system.