Win or lose, I always win!

Win or lose, I always win!

Written by: Livia Carvalho, 15 years-old

The very first time I ever played chess; I lost in three moves. I must have been around eight or nine years old, and I remember I was playing against my mom. We were sitting in the small, thick-aired attic of our old house which was our guest room. I had probably asked her to play chess with me because I had seen someone playing in the library or one of my friends was talking about it. So, she pulled out a chess board and we began.

She started by telling the tale of how her dad, my grandfather, had taught her. She said that he went easy on her at the beginning, letting her win a simple game and take all his pawns. As she got better, he got more competitive. She did not win a game against him for the next decade. After her lighthearted parable we began. I lost my king in three moves.

It was the old Scotch Game opening. I had never seen it coming. I asked her to play again, and I fell prey to the same three moves over and over again. After four or five curt games, she left me to sit there and ponder the board until I had figured out the destiny of her pieces.

We played again. Four minutes later the game was over. I was baffled! How did she beat me again? I had figured out her strategy, so how was it that my king lay dead to her bishop? She left me there to ponder our continual games every time that I lost (which was every time). Again and again, her pieces would find ways to knock down, ridicule, and humiliate my king and his army of pieces.

These short games turned into hour-long games, then games that would take up the whole afternoon, and finally, my peak of performance, ones where we had to leave the pieces to rest overnight and start the battle again in the morning. It was addicting. In each game we played there was always the excitement of moving the first pawn. Or maybe beginning with something different like the horse piece (which I learned later was called the knight). Then there was the attack and the retreat which was forever unbalanced between us. And then finally, the gleaming hope of winning that was so close in reach that I could feel its heat on the palm of my hand. The chance of victory. To take her king and finish the war once and for all. But alas, she took my pawn, and it was checkmate.

I never gave up or faltered with doubt in our games, and I was notorious labeled as the mosquito in my mom’s ear asking her if she could go get the board. I had not realized this at the time, but those games had strengthened the stamina of my resilience and trained me to overcome loss. I learned that every defeat comes with a lesson and instructions for how not to lose again. I carry this philosophy with me through my everyday life, like a sea-urchin on a boat. Every moment in life is either a game I must win, or a lesson in which I must learn.

All in all, this theory of victory and defeat has allowed me to win in every aspect of my life. If I win, I win. If I lose, I learn. Controlling the way the pieces may move is out of my jurisdiction, so the only way I can combat their treachery is by reading their tactics and going for the counter-attack.

To this day I still have not been the victorious champion in a game against my mom. She never went easy on me the way her father did, and I am grateful for, otherwise I may never have understood the value of resilience.

Written by: Livia Carvalho, 15