The Chess World Championship Solution

The one thing that chess politics does consistently for me that virtually nothing else can manage is make me thankful that I live in such an enlightened political arena as the United States. The World Chess Federation (FIDE for short, due to some French abbreviation) just held its "Candidates Matches" to determine who gets to contend against Viswanathan Anand for the World Championship someday.... somewhere. Well, the result of these matches was somewhat... cough... unimpressive. Something like 90% of the classical games ended in draws, requiring rapid and often blitz playoffs to determine a winner. Games were drawn in less than 20 moves several times with both players quite content to rush off to rapid games to decide a "classical" world title.

 

For those of you who are unfamiliar with chess time controls. Classical would be a game that can last five, six, seven hours or perhaps even more. Rapid is generally about an hour game--total. Blitz is over in ten minutes. Classical is a genuine struggle of ideas, rapid is quick calculation, blitz is basically instinct. It's sort of like determining an NBA championship with a three-point contest.

The biggest problem was that matches were only four games in the Quarterfinals and Semifinals, meaning that players had two games with each color before going off to tiebreaks. This was particularly stupid when players would play 20 move draws in two of those games and only give half-hearted attempts in the other games. Don't ask me why. These guys have the psychological fragility of fine china at this level, and none of them seem to care about publicity--or the good of the game, generally. (It should be noted that the Candidates Final was a whopping 6 games... and exactly one of those was interesting and decisive--the last one).

Adding to the problem was that the top rated player in the world, Magnus Carlsen, a young Norwegian who virtually everyone concedes should challenge Anand for the World Championship, withdrew prior to the event citing the ridiculous guidelines. Well, at least somebody in chess understands the laughingstock that is FIDE when it comes to championship events. Imagine baseball deciding that this year instead of a 5-7-7 style playoff system, each round will consist of a single game; naturally, the Yankees get upset and say they will withdraw from the playoffs. Then imagine Major League Baseball trying to justify its actions, saying that the system used was a good one for determining the champion (in fact, it was a better one!). This is something like what you have in chess--every cycle, every World Championship.

So here's my solution. Let's start with the World Championship and work backwards. Right now the WC is a ridiculously short 12 games with the current champion retaining the title in the case of a tie. It used to be 24 games, which would be nice to see again, but we'll split the difference and make it 18. It should last less than four weeks, then, with rest days after every three games. Champion should keep his title in the case of a 9-9 tie. No playoffs.

I feel like that's simple enough and very little change compared to what it already looks like. The real problem is with the Candidates. Firstly, Candidates Matches have too many players. The difference between the top 4-5 players in the world is far different from the top 15-20. Instead of 8 players, the Candidates should be 4, which allows for more games among the top players.

The four players should be: 1. The winner of a playoff tournament, say Linares or the London Chess Classic; 2. The winner of another such tournament. 3. The player with the highest FIDE rating at a predetermined time, say, six months before the matches who didn't qualify via one or two; 4. The player with the second-highest FIDE rating at the same time.

These players are assigned by rating (1 plays 4, 2 plays 3) to 8-game semifinal matches, and then the winners play a 12-game Candidates Match for the right to play the current champion. In the event of a tie in the semifinals or finals, the player who drew with white in the fewest moves loses. So if you draw a game in 15 moves early in the match you may just be out the tiebreak.

Or I guess chess could just learn something from college football and decide champions by polls and computers--stuff like that. But for that you should probably check my previous blog post...

College Football: The True American Pastime

Amid more allegations of illegality in college football in the news, Beau and I had an interesting discussion on the drive up north today. We were talking about narratives in the lives of parishioners and I brought up sports, as one of the few remaining continuous narratives in American life, especially--but not only--among males. In sports, you have something clear to cheer for: a championship, a team; and a general sense of pride. The biggest thing about sports is that the objective is clear. A win is easy to define. Championships are visible goals to strive for, and every team can hope for a championship.

Well... not exactly. As we began to talk, I realized that college football is the exception to every rule in sports and has--in a strange and unfortunate way--taken on the character of American culture. Below is a sketch of the beliefs inherent in the college football mindset that set it apart and make it uniquely American.

Firstly, college football has redefined how champions are crowned. Instead of playoffs we have polls, computers and debate. That's right, debate, because in order to influence the voters you have to argue your case. The voters then have a say in who is the best team, and naturally the rest is left to computer programmers with virtually no oversight.

The working premise is that any team can still compete for the BCS championship if they A) play a tough enough schedule, B) win all (or nearly all) their games, and C) are a big school with lots of money.

You may say at this point, "Wait... why do they have to be a big school?" On the surface, the reason is that small schools (Boise State, TCU, Utah, and BYU for example) do not play a tough enough schedule to be considered one of the top two schools in the nation. A level deeper, however, the reason is that these schools can't play a hard enough schedule to be considered a top two school. There are two reasons for this: 1) they are mired in conferences with other smaller schools, which usually require around 8 league games. 2) their 3 non-conference opponents will not be top tier schools because these schools will never go to play against Boise or TCU or Utah, because the money is not there and because they have no reason to risk an early season loss.

In every other sport (or competitive exercise that I know of) every participant and team at the highest level has the opportunity at the beginning of the season to hope. They can hope because even if their team looks bad on paper, they could band together, win every game, and take home a championship. Not in college football.

So, why does the BCS still exist? A couple of reasons that are both quintessentially American: money and controversy. First, the controversy. ESPN and all media outlets love discussion; it fills up the programming, and what better than the BCS to dominate hours and hours of discussion! Suits sit behind desks talking as if they know what team deserves to play for a championship, and unlike every other sport in existence their opinions actually count! So, instead of young men wearing uniforms, we have old men wearing suits determining a championship.

Wait... but the championship game is still decided by a game, right?

Yes, sort of. It's determined partially by a game, and partially by schools constantly vacating national championships due to under-the-table deals. And who makes out on all of this? A few boosters, perhaps, but not the schools. The overwhelming winner is the BCS itself; read: more guys in suits. Guys who embezzle money. Guys who talk about "tradition" and "respect for the game" when they are simply seeing $$$.

So, yes, college football is the American pastime, but only insofar as it reflects all that is ugly in America. Personally, this is why I don't care. And I won't, except to cheer for every small school and every team that will break the BCS. Then, maybe I can care. Maybe. But sorry, you've lost me for now.

Superior Hiking Trail Adventure

It's been a little while, so I feel like I should probably send an update. Last week I spent some time backpacking on the Superior Hiking Trail with some friends. 

It was a nice little trip. We drove up on a Tuesday--the day after classes ended. We dropped off one vehicle at the end location--just past the Devil Track River near Grand Marais, then packed up the second car and drove back to our starting location on a forest road about 15 miles away. That first day we basically just set up camp and hung out; it was 3:30 pm by the time we arrived at the second location and our campsites, which were less than a quarter mile from the road. 

Day two was our big day, hiking a chunk of 10.4 miles; all in all not a huge day's worth of hiking but enough to take it out of us. I should probably mention I was going with two others who really hadn't done this kind of overnight backpacking before and third who is recovering from ACL surgery.

 

We made it all the way to the Devil Track River, which is--by the way--one of the sweetest places I had never heard of before in northern Minnesota. It's basically all rapids and falls flowing through an enormous canyon. Hiking out was fun in part because we were often within a few feet and a couple trees of a 200-300 foot drop down to the river below.

The final morning three of us left the packs at camp and climbed up Pincushion Mountain. It's a mere 1400 feet, but considering Lake Superior (in the background) is 600-some feet above sea level, it's a nice overlook.

We hiked out on Thursday about 2.5 miles and headed into Grand Marais to Sven and Ole's, because it's basically something I have to do when I'm up there and my companions obliged my obsession. Anyway, all in all a very successful trip. We didn't see much wildlife, except a bunch of wolf tracks, but we had some nice views and good companionship. Looking forward to heading up again soon and checking out more of the north shore hiking.

Reflection on Preaching and Pop Culture

This started out as an inquiry into stories. What is it that resonates with people? And more importantly, what does that say about our relationship with God?

It seems like a funny question on some level. What does God have to do with Twilight or Eminem? Yet, if we are going to talk about the Spirit with any kind of integrity it seems like we have to acknowledge that God must be capable of working through what people find meaningful, even if it seems banal. Millions of people see something of value in these and other icons. Why?

There is something valuable in the story. Twilight offers a storyline that appeals to a generation of girls and young ladies; in fact, its sales are an indication that it is appealing to adult women as well. Its popularity is indicative of a story that speaks meaning into the difficulties that women face. It speaks into the confusion of puberty as well as our yearning for love in adulthood. To divorce sex and God leaves the church impotent to speaking into that reality. There might be a cogent message here for 21st century Christians, but the only way to address it is to look openly at what it is that makes Twilight an often guilty pleasure for so many.

Eminem has a similar appeal that, while crossing gender lines somewhat more than Twilight, is predominantly a male phenomenon. Eminem's message is not primarily about sex, but it deals with the human tendency to hate, and at its best it is about coming to terms with who we are. He doesn't have it figured out, and maybe that's why it's hard to see him as a storybook character. The evolution of his career seems has been for the better, but the end remains unwritten. Regardless, there is something about him that resonates. The pain and sometimes hatred that inspires his lyrics has moved a generation who consider him a voice for their trials. Surely, there is something Christian in that.

Finally, I opened up to the idea of WikiLeaks. This I was more skeptical about than the others in part because it is dehumanized. Eminem is flawed, but that can be explained by his utter human-ness. Twilight is a very human novel. WikiLeaks seems to presuppose a kind of omniscience. And yet, this too is a very human tendency. We want to know things; it says something about us--even if it isn't always something good.

With the process of sermon-writing finished, I have come to realize that this has always been about story. I struggled most with the WikiLeaks topic because it didn't lend itself well to narrative. Our stories undergird the meaning in our lives. Moreover, the Christian story gives meaning back to the stories that we hold dear. Too often the problem preachers have is that the Christian story that we are attempting to proclaim is ignorant of the prevailing stories in the culture. This has been an exercise in understanding how we can talk about those forces without selling out to them; in short, how we can re-focus the power that they have on the cross where we claim ultimate meaning lies.

This is possible only through my own story-telling. As a preacher I am only as good as quilt I can fashion from the threads that connect the stories that my parishioners bring, the stories that the culture has ingrained in us, and the overarching grand narrative of God in the world. This is the challenge of preaching and pop culture, but I am coming to think that it is also one of the only ways we can be authentic to life in the here-and-now while proclaiming the "not yet"-ness of the gospel.

The travails of city bicycling

I was biking home along Cedar Lake Parkway last Friday when a car came up alongside me, windows down, and the driver unleashed a string of expletives that came to something like: "Get off the road and get on the sidewalk."

Along Cedar Lake Parkway there is a bike path I could be on so in a way I can see his poorly articulated point, but the reality is that bicyclists get put in a very difficult spot in situations like this. When I leave the Midtown Greenway (which is wonderful, by the way, and really a model of how all bicycle routes should be constructed) I am forced to make a decision by the lakes: bike on the "bike trails" with their ubiquitous rollerbladers and parents/kids out on their first ride of the year, or on the roads with their potholes and angry motorists generally upset that you slow them down by about 3 seconds. The other problem is that these "bike paths" have 10 mph speed limits that nobody pays attention to. So, either I have to bike really slowly or technically break the law to ride there. Do bicyclists have the right to bike, but only very slowly?

I realize a bicycle is not a car. I generally can't go as fast as a car and I'm certainly smaller. But I feel like I'm not asking for a lot here. I don't want to bike on a highway or a major road; I don't need bike lanes or trails; I don't need even a Greenway (though if the city of Minneapolis is reading this, thank you, thank you, thank you, and more please!). All I would really like is for motorists to pull up next to me and thank me for lessening unnecessary traffic; or smile at me for helping with air quality or setting an example to weaken our dependence on foreign oil. Heck, I'd just take drivers who are focused on driving enough to care less about bicyclists. Or at the very least I would love--just love--to give drivers who feel the need to curse me out the opportunity to hop on a bicycle and understand the joy of having to work to get yourself somewhere. That is a blessing we have too often lost.

Minnesota Without Poverty

The following is my final project for Ministry in Media Culture class. The assignment was to make a video telling a story about Minnesota Without Poverty (www.mnwithoutpoverty.com)

Video no longer embedded, since it autoplays annoyingly. To watch visit here:  http://www.xtranormal.com/watch/11488723/mn-without-poverty

Osama and Voldemort

 The news of Osama Bin Laden's death has brought with it the standard patriotic behavior that is a mark of our times. Singing "We Are the Champions" outside the White House, really? There is nothing that screams one nation under God like Queen piped over a dead body. Meanwhile, my friend, Beth, wrote an "R.I.P" obit for Bin Laden in an attempt to look beyond the hatred and search for real and legitimate peace. Is this something to revel in?

I think many of us who are searching for peace, rather than victory, are having difficulty putting into words what Bin Laden's death means. Our first instinct is to withhold celebration, as hatred seems to breed only more hatred. "Are we better people now?" my former Philosophy professor, David O'Hara, asked on Facebook last night.

Probably not.

I was struggling to give words to my feelings as well. Then, a couple of friends pointed out to me an unlikely anniversary. May 1 was the day that the Battle of Hogwarts was fought in Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. For probably the hundredth time, the Harry Potter series gave me language to talk about something that left me dumb. I suppose that is what great stories do. Left speechless, it gave me a voice. Perhaps it sounds disingenuous to talk about Voldemort and Osama Bin Laden in the same breath, and yet that is precisely what good stories allow us to do. They do not minimize their scope with a self-gratifying plot-line and one-dimensional characters; instead, they paint a life that is our own and yet more vivid, with situations that enlighten our lives in the world outside of the pages.

When Harry and Voldemort have their final duel, Harry gives Voldemort one last chance--a chance to show remorse. It is an opportunity that Voldemort scoffs at. Remorse? He doesn't understand what remorse could possibly achieve. And yet, Voldemort's defeat is not due to Harry's prodigious magical skills (which he doesn't have) or brutal use of spells (which he doesn't use), but it is instead a result of the power that matters more than any of that: love. It is a disarming spell that ricochets the killing curse back at Voldemort. Death leads inevitably back to death.

We are left to wonder: would we shoot to kill or to disarm?

In our world we have the same decisions. Somebody killed Bin Laden not with a disarming spell but with a bullet. And in the wake of this, Harry calls us to take a step back and ask, "Do we feel remorse?" For as much as we want to make Osama into Voldemort and ourselves into Harry, our reality is that we so often look more like the one fleeing from death; our inner Voldemorts are alive and well. To say that Bin Laden bears a striking resemblance to Voldemort is true but incomplete. The reality of our situation today is that we all look a lot like Voldemort, and we can only hope our killing curses don't rebound.

I won't leave it there, because I think there is some good here. We can be more than this. This much is evident on Facebook with the uneasy response so many obviously feel. To those of us who are uncertain how to react, we are left the words that Dumbledore gives Harry at King's Cross. Words that beg us to ask: What matters? Words that give us the following answer:

"That which Voldemort does not value, he takes no trouble to comprehend. Of house-elves and children's tales, of love, loyalty, and innocence, Voldemort knows and understands nothing. Nothing. That they all have a power beyond his own, a power beyond the reach of any magic, is a truth he has never grasped."

Love, loyalty and innocence. Let's work on that.