2 days Ago By Aaditya Narayan
After 87.58 in 2021, there's another alphanumeric combination now to remember the year that went by in Indian sport. Why? Just look at what happened before and after it.
Before it, there were 13 games and a bit between Dommaraju Gukesh and Ding Liren. The start of the match was exciting, two decisive results in the first three games were split between the two players. Then came the dreaded period - seven draws in a row.
It really was sapping - both for the players, and those involved in the periphery, even some fans. They just wanted some decisive action. That came in games 11 and 12, and almost did in game 13, too.
Game 14, meanwhile, was meandering towards a draw. Tie-breaks loomed large. After it, Gukesh was the youngest undisputed world champion ever, only the second Indian to ever do it.
An 18-year-old had ascended to the ultimate throne in the sport. This reporter was in Singapore as the action had unfolded. Here's a sequence of events that led to the ultimate Indian sports achievement in 2024.
Game 14 begins. ESPN's Anirudh Menon already has an explainer ready on how the tie-breaks would work. Obviously, that piece never saw light of day.
But worse still, he's put a thought in my head. What if they keep playing out draws in tie-breaks? He really wanted to keep doing more live blogs, I concluded. As the players come out of the opening and into the middle game, game 14 is beginning to take shape into one of those high-accuracy draws that is never good for a sport that sometimes needs drama for people to tune into it.
FIDE's media officer Michael Rahal has announced to the media centre: "I've seen many games like this, this is definitely a draw." That aged well eventually, Michael. No one in the media centre dared question his wisdom at the time, and dare say, not even now, sport just has a funny way of proving predictions wrong.
: It's clear Gukesh wants to play as long as he possibly can. This position is doomed towards a draw, is this the exuberance of youth? I have pretty much given up hope of a result, and am thinking about Gukesh's chances in the tie-breaks, where he has a FIDE rating about 130 points lower than Ding. We have even finalized what I'd write that evening after game 14 ended in a draw.
It would've been about how Ding had achieved what he set out to achieve - not losing the title in classical. Of course, that idea aged like milk, too. One more day of chess, then! I meet a couple of fans at the venue who want to know what the ticketing procedure would be for the tie-breaks.
We're all that sure of coming back the next day. Gukesh can't lose, I hear Peter Leko say on commentary for Chess24. He'd been saying that for about an hour and a half.
He can win, Vishy Anand says on the ChessBase India stream. He can win? My eyes lit up. It was a 0.
27% chance, the great man said, the light was quickly snuffed out of my eyes. He would push forever, water will be turned into wine, come what may, seemed to be his message. He wasn't convincing anyone present at the venue, though.
A young kid inside the playing hall sees me panting after I'd channeled my inner Usain Bolt. "Why are you panting? Is Gukesh winning?" Wait what? What about that high-accuracy draw? What about no drama? 55. Rf2 is as much drama as a world championship has match has ever had.
It was bolt out of the blue. Most in the media centre didn't even register it for the seismic moment it was. Just another move as they head towards a draw, we thought.
And then, " " read the message on our desk chat. I'd already begun writing about how Gukesh now faced an uphill task in the tie-breaks. Then I saw the screen, and that eval bar almost entirely shrouded in black.
It was at that point that I stopped thinking. I wanted to be in the playing hall, not the media centre. I set off on a sprint that would do Mr.
Bolt proud. Well, not quite. The kid who caught me panting didn't know that.
I wasn't the only mediaperson sprinting. A member of FIDE's social media team did too, and then she tripped and fell. It was mayhem, not just on the board.
: I see Gukesh waiting for Ding to shake his hand. Enough of the damned poker face. Behave like an 18-year-old normally would now, please? Do tears count? Do 18-year-olds cry anymore? He cried his eyes out, first to dad Rajinikanth, then to Gajewski, then to mental coach Paddy Upton.
But then, he held all those tears back, made the most gracious winner at the press conference, and then let us all in on a secret. He'd be bungee jumping soon to celebrate his win. Rohit Brijnath, assistant sports editor of the Straits Times in Singapore, messages me, "how the h*ll did he win?" It was that set of characters that is now ingrained into the history of Indian sport - 55.
Rf2..
