Mind Master: Winning Lessons from a Champion's Life PDF
Preview Mind Master: Winning Lessons from a Champion's Life
MIND MASTER Winning Lessons from a Champion’s Life VISWANATHAN ANAND with Susan Ninan First published in 2019 by Hachette India (Registered name: Hachette Book Publishing India Pvt. Ltd) An Hachette UK company www.hachetteindia.com This ebook published in 2019 (Text) Copyright © 2019 Viswanathan Anand Viswanathan Anand asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. All rights reserved. No part of the publication may be copied, reproduced, downloaded, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover or digital format other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. The views and opinions expressed in this book are the author’s own, and the facts are as reported by him and have been verified to the extent possible. The publishers are not in any way liable for the same. Hardback ISBN 978-93-5195-150-6 Ebook ISBN 978-93-5195-151-3 Cover photograph © Lennart Ootes Jacket design by Haitenlo Semy Typeset in Charter BT 10.5/16 by InoSoft Systems, Noida Hachette Book Publishing India Pvt. Ltd 4th/5th Floors, Corporate Centre, Plot No. 94, Sector 44, Gurugram 122003, India For my mother, who told me to always write down my thoughts, good or bad. She said, ‘One day you will read them and realize how beautiful they are.’ ‘Regrets, I’ve had a few But then again, too few to mention I did what I had to do And saw it through without exemption. I planned each charted course Each careful step along the byway… Yes, there were times, I’m sure you knew When I bit off more than I could chew But through it all, when there was doubt I ate it up and spit it out I faced it all and I stood tall And did it my way…’ ‘My Way’, Lyrics by Paul Anka Sung by Frank Sinatra in 1969 CONTENTS 1DITCHING THE LADDER Of Gut, Heart and a Winning Idea 2STICKY NOTES Madras, Manila, Madrid and Everything in Between 3THE ART OF REMEMBERING Hooks, Hacks and Serendipity 4WIN SOME, LOSE SOME Emotions and the Power of Objectivity 5GATHERING THE TROOPS How to Make Preparation Count and Tactics Work 6NEW YORK, NEW YORK The Making of a Champion 7THE GIFT AND THE GRIT Making Talent Work Hard 8MINING THE MIND AND MACHINES Decision-Making, Data and a New Giant on the Block 9BONN AGAIN Finding Beauty in Risk 10THE ADVERSITY ADVANTAGE A Volcanic Ash Cloud, a Road Trip and a Title 11TWO CITIES, ONE STATE Battling Learned Helplessness 12STAYING ALIVE On Today’s Wins and Tomorrow’s Horizons Acknowledgements BONN, 2008. My heart thumps in my ears. My fingernails mock me; over the next few hours, they could be ravaged. A World Championship match can transform its protagonists. You are never the same after it. My wife, Aruna, manages a benign smile as we wait, wordless and anxious, to leave for the game. It’s the worst time for small talk. I search my mind for a tune to hum, but the nervous energy gushing through me dismisses the idle thought. I feel Aruna’s hand on mine. It’s what the subarctic tundra must feel like. Time to go, she gestures. I give her a half-kiss and she responds with the customary, ‘All the best, ma.’ As the car zips out of the driveway, it hits me like shrapnel: This is the point of no return. My brain struggles to piece together what now appears at best like a cloudy preparation memory. Seated to my right, Aruna watches me, sees my hands tremble and holds them in a tight clasp. ‘I need to speak to Radek,’ I hear myself say. ‘I can’t recall a thing.’ Radoslaw Wojtaszek, Radek, is one of my four trainers for the match. At 21, he’s the youngest member in the team. Aruna grapples with the two chunky mobile phones she’s holding, picks one up and dials at a feverish pace. We wait in silence for a voice to come to life at the other end. The phone rings itself out. We look at each other. She tries a second time. Still no answer. ‘Try the others,’ I offer, surprised that I still have some dregs of pragmatism left in me. The three pale-blue-and-silver inclined cones of the Bonn Federal Art Gallery, the match venue, now tower ahead of us. Aruna asks the driver to park a few metres away, thumbs through the contact list on the phone and dials the numbers of the three remaining members of my team – Peter Heine Nielsen, Rustam Kasimdzhanov and Surya Sekhar Ganguly. No one answers. All we hear is the dull ringing and our hearts pounding. I chide myself for scouring for omens, and yet I can’t help but think they weirdly have a way of proving their efficacy. Oblivious to the doom and gloom behind him, the driver turns on the ignition and pulls up at the gallery with a gentle screech. Aruna climbs out. I stay put, undecided. She throws a mild reprimand my way, ‘Onnum pannamudiyathu, ma… Poi velaiyadu. There’s nothing that can be done now… Go, play.’ On a regular day, the counsel may well have ended in a marital squabble. Today, I know she has a point. We reach the revolving door of the theatre. It’s locked. We manage a pale smile at each other and wonder why the gods are against us. Someone tries to force open the iron door nearby, but it won’t budge. ‘Use the other entrance,’ Aruna mouths as the security staff spring to their feet. I decide to look down at my feet. Eye contact is best avoided minutes before a game. I don’t want a stranger, an acquaintance or a fan running up to me with offerings of bravado or luck. As my steps quicken to reach the entrance, Aruna looks hazy in the distance. My opponent, Vladimir Kramnik, assumes form ahead of me. The arbiter wears a polite smile as we take our seats. I adjust my knights to face the enemy forces. It’s a quirk I carry. Kramnik is hunched over the board, his elbows resting on the table. We’ve known each other since our teens, but for this match we’re nothing other than exacting rivals. Only one of us will go home a World Champion. Kramnik pushes his queen’s pawn to the centre, with 1.d4. Que sera sera, I tell myself, as I sip my tea. I mirror his move and nudge my Black queen’s pawn by two squares. ONE DITCHING THE L DDER OF GUT, HEART AND A WINNING IDEA
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