Get Your Head in the Game: How 5C chess players love the game Kasparov hated

(Alexandra Grunbaum • The Student Life)

Grandmaster Garry Kasparov once likened chess to “mental torture.” He believes the sport is inherently violent. 

This may sound overdramatic in the context of a pastime enjoyed by seniors at the local park. But in the silence of a tournament hall, with ticking clocks and heavy breathing, the pressure can accumulate to suffocating levels. 

For Tendai Nyamuronda PO ’26, who plays both for leisure and competition, Kasparov’s words ring somewhat true. Starting in primary school in Harare, Zimbabwe, Nyamuronda played casually with friends before eventually finding a coach at a community club.

With time and training, he climbed steadily through the ranks. Most competitive players begin with a chess rating below 1200, advance to the intermediate level between 1200 and 1600 and reach expert territory beyond that. Nyamuronda’s bullet chess rating is in the 2200s, and his official rating is around 1800. His progress earned him entry into national-level tournaments and into the mental battleground Kasparov described. 

“It’s usually hours and hours of preparation, playing games and trying to memorize a lot of openings, middlegames and endgames,” Nyamuronda said. “You also need to make sure that you’re in the right mental space because … If you’re not in the right state of mind, you might not be able to perform as well as someone else who’s in a very calm and composed mental state.”

Nyamuronda recognizes chess’s torturous nature. In high-stakes settings surrounded by complete silence, the need for perfection is especially magnified.

“Even the slightest noise or the slightest distraction can take away [a player’s] attention from the game,” Nyamuronda said. “You cannot blame anyone else … [when you blunder,] it’s just between you and your mindset and the mentality that you had at that time.”

However, Nyamuronda is quick to insist that chess does not feel like this all the time; when the stakes are lower, players can derive much joy from the mental challenge.

Sophia Rosenholtz SC ’28 learned chess from her father at four years old and boasts an official rating around the same as Nyamuronda’s, 1800. However, her stance on the stress of competitive chess differs from that of her fellow competitor.

“I would not agree with that statement [of psychological torture],” Rosenholtz said. “I love chess … It’s a mental break from everything. It’s very fun for me [whether] I win or lose.” 

She thanks her parents, who encouraged her to love the game, not the outcome. At her first girls’ nationals in fourth grade, her parents assured her that they’d be proud of her either way. She entered with little pressure and low expectations for her performance, but still placed in the top fifteen. 

“It’s honestly all just about the mindset you go in with,” Rosenholtz said. 

Juan Florido PO ’29, a former cross-country runner and wrestler with an online rating around 1100, said that even at a casual level, pressure pierces. 

“Losing hurts way more in chess than it does in, say, another sport,” Florido says. “It’s an intelligence game … Making a mistake hurts so much, because when you realize it, [I say] ‘how can I be so stupid?’” 

Florido chooses to play chess casually. By choosing not to chase rankings or titles, he avoids the burnout that drove him away from other sports.

“Always, always do things in moderation and just do it for yourself, for pleasure,” Florido said.

Rosenholtz also demonstrates remarkable strength in surviving chess’s male-dominated setting. Starting around 2010, before the release of “The Queen’s Gambit” on Netflix, which led to spikes in female participation, she was often the only girl at tournaments. She faced boys who insisted they had “gone easy” on her or sulked after losses. Rather than retreating, she embraced being underestimated. 

“I’ve always liked being underestimated and proving people wrong,” Rosenholtz said. 

This composure shielded her from the dropout trap that claims many girls due to a lack of representation.

Florido now engages in the sweetest side of chess. He often sets up boards in his hometown park with older gentlemen, and they share stories between moves. This community turns what could be a solitary grind into bonding across generations. For him, these casual park games are pure delight, as there are no clocks racing nor egos being chased, with just laughter over clever traps and mutual respect. 

And if Kasparov is right — he is a grandmaster, after all — chess could also teach us a lesson about dealing with the roadblocks of life. Chess tests how we endure pressure, how we recover from blunders and how we play despite knowing we’ll lose sometimes. 

Nyamuronda, Rosenholtz and Florido choose to love chess for its play, not its demands, and that reminds us to choose joy over unattainable perfection.

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