Finally, a question I had, that came from looking into Capablanca a bit... Wikipedia says, '...Bobby Fischer described him as possessing a "real light touch".'
I'd like to hear your perspective, as speculative as it may be, on what Bobby Fischer might have meant by that. — wonderer1
Yeah I get that. I think he was a great influence on Fischer, although I'd say Fischer's real progenitor is Alexander Alekhine. Lasker is important to him too, but I don't know Lasker's style as well. Fischer used a famous quote from Lasker as the epigraph to
My 60 Memorable Games:
On the chessboard, lies and hypocrisy do not survive long. The creative combination lays bare the presumption of a lie; the merciless fact, culminating in the checkmate, contradicts the hypocrite.
I heard some writer on the radio once claiming that the great chess champions were all sadists, and Fischer is kinda the poster child for that. He didn't just beat his opponents, he humiliated them. I think somewhere he talks about this sense of the struggle, which he learned from Lasker but turned up to 11, the point of chess being to destroy your opponent's psyche. Fischer
punished you for being wrong. He was Caissa's avenging angel.
Capablanca didn't so much punish you, as correct you, point out to you your mistake. The level of chess was admittedly a bit lower back then, so maybe it's true that when Capablanca revealed your mistake to you, the answer seemed quite simple because it was.
But I think it's more about Capablanca's clarity of vision about the game. He didn't go in for speculative play -- and neither did Fischer or Alekhine really. In fact, the only player who had Fischer's number was Mikhail Tal. Fischer, someone said, maybe it was Tal in his book, didn't like irrational positions, and Tal
specialized in irrational positions. I think he's the only player who had a plus score against Fischer in international competition.
But now Capablanca, who like Fischer strove for clarity and directness, eschewing speculative play was also rarely taken in by it. Chess as he played it was clear and simple. He was oddly famous for little combinations that would simplify and clarify the position leaving him with a winning advantage, which you knew he could convert, given his level of technique. But he didn't push. His play was not particularly aggressive, as Fischer and Alekhine were -- and just about all modern players are in this mold. Fischer liked to play "sharp", force the game to a decisive point. Put up or shut up. But not Capablanca. His play was elegant, to the point in a way that seemed effortless.
So there's a particular sort of Augustan beauty about Capablanca's play. It's hard not to be a little awed by him, even if Tal or David Bronstein -- another great romantic swashbuckling player -- are more exciting, more appealing as characters. But Alekhine in particular ushered in a more uncompromising approach that Fischer picked up and almost everyone since plays more like that.
I probably haven't quite answered your question, about the "light touch." Maybe I have. I find it fascinating that chess despite being fundamentally a sport, and in so many ways unlike any number of media we would consider art, is very much like art in providing tremendous scope for having a personal style, a full expression of the personality, and the opportunity to create something beautiful, for there is certainly beauty in chess.
One of my favorite moments in writing about chess comes in David Bronstein's
Zurich 53, his book about the great tournament to select a challenger to face then world champion Mikhail Botvinnik. There's one game, maybe Averbakh-Kotov but I don't remember for certain, where a truly extraordinary queen sacrifice is played. Bronstein brings play up to that point, gives a diagram of the position, and then begins "Creativity in chess ..." or something, anyway, he launches into a two-page essay about creativity and beauty before showing you the next move, indeed one of the most beautiful moves ever played.