Tweet
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/low/programmes/from_our_ow n_correspondent/8275099.stm
11:03 GMT, Saturday, 26 September 2009 12:03 UK
Armenia revels in its chess prowess
Armenia, with a population of three million, has won the last two
men's world team chess championships, beating opponents including
Russia, China, and the US. What is their secret? David Edmonds
travelled to the country to find out.
I speak not a word of Armenian, and the first man I met in Armenia
spoke not a word of English.
He was the driver picking me up from the airport.
"David," I said, pointing at myself. "Tigran," he said, shaking my
hand, "Tigran Petrosian."
young Armenians playing chess
This seems a weird coincidence. In 1963, his namesake, Tigran
Petrosian, had defeated Mikhail Botvinnik to take the world chess
title.
For Westerners it was a case of one Soviet Man beating another. The
Soviets used chess to demonstrate the superiority of communism over
capitalism, and had created a highly efficient chess factory, churning
out prodigies like sausages.
But that is not how they saw it in Armenia. For them, Petrosian was
above all an Armenian.
National obsession
Tens of thousands of people gathered in Opera Square in the capital
Yerevan, to watch the games being displayed on giant boards, as the
moves were relayed from Moscow.
The result led to an outpouring of patriotic fervour. That same year,
John F Kennedy was assassinated.
"In America everyone can remember where they were when Kennedy was
shot," one man tells me. "Here in Armenia, everyone of a certain age
can recall the exact moment Petrosian became world champion."
>From that moment on, chess became a national obsession.
"A spectator tells me that Armenia's number one player, Levon Aronian,
is their equivalent of David Beckham. He even has the designer
stubble."
My driver, Tigran, was not the only Tigran I met.
Tigran is an ancient Armenian name. Tigran the Great built a vast
empire here in Roman times.
But since the chess conquests of Tigran Petrosian, Tigrans have multiplied.
Tigran Xmalian is a director, who has made a film that uses chess to
tell the history of modern Armenia. It is a tragic story.
The defining episode occurred in World War I. Around a million people
- some say more, others less - were massacred or died of exhaustion in
enforced deportations by the Ottoman Turks.
Armenia
Since the late 1980s, Armenia has experienced a catastrophic
earthquake, war with Azerbaijan and economic collapse. Tigran Xmalian
says chess offers the people hope - the chance of salvation. For in
chess, he says, every pawn can become a queen.
Later I meet the president of the Armenian Chess Federation. The
interview had taken months to arrange.
That may seem odd until you realise that in his spare time, he is also
president of the country.
His cabinet consists of two Tigrans - the prime minister and the
finance minister.
The state already offers free training to the most promising players,
and a guaranteed salary (equivalent to the average wage) to any
Armenian who reaches the elite title of grandmaster.
The president now plans to introduce chess into the school curriculum.
"We don't want people to know Armenia just for the earthquake and the
genocide," President Serge Sarkisian said. "We would rather it was
famous for its chess."
Chess house
In the centre of Yerevan, there is an imposing four-storey,
Stalinist-era edifice where anybody can turn up for a quick blitz
game, lasting just a few minutes, or a more measured contest of
several hours.
Some players thump the pieces down like slabs of meat, others glide
them across the board as if they were fragile china.
The men (they are almost all men) range from international class to
what in the chess community are known as patzers, useless amateurs.
The building is called the Tigran Petrosian Chess House and inside you
can hear lots of explanations as to why Armenians excel at the game.
Secretly, sometimes not so secretly, many think that the real reason
is Armenians are just more creative, more logical, and just, well,
smarter than the rest of us.
Celebrities
Chess tournaments in Jermuk.
At a major international chess tournament taking place in the spa
resort of Jermuk in the arid mountains, I bump into yet another Tigran
Petrosian.
He is no relation of Armenia's chess legend, but when Petrosian won
the world title, says the younger Tigran, his father had a dream that
if he ever had a son he would call him Tigran.
The boy has himself grown up to be a high-ranking grandmaster, a
member of Armenia's world-conquering side.
Cheery and plump, this Tigran Petrosian is an unlikely sex symbol, but
in Armenia chess players are celebrities.
A spectator tells me that Armenia's number-one player, Levon Aronian,
is their equivalent of David Beckham. He even has the designer
stubble. Young girls and aspiring chess players chase him for photos
and autographs.
In Jermuk, the crowds gather in the piazza where the games are being
shown on display boards. A number of seated, elderly gentlemen
passionately debate the moves, the high sun reflecting off their
brown, bald temples.
The tournament is called the Tigran Petrosian Memorial Tournament. The
world champion, who died two decades ago, would have turned 80 this
year.
Tigran Petrosian junior hopes to make the Armenian side that will
defend its gold medal in 2010.
"The name gives me a good feeling," he says.
"But the problem is that with this name everyone expects me to win
every game. It is too much pressure."
11:03 GMT, Saturday, 26 September 2009 12:03 UK
Armenia revels in its chess prowess
Armenia, with a population of three million, has won the last two
men's world team chess championships, beating opponents including
Russia, China, and the US. What is their secret? David Edmonds
travelled to the country to find out.
I speak not a word of Armenian, and the first man I met in Armenia
spoke not a word of English.
He was the driver picking me up from the airport.
"David," I said, pointing at myself. "Tigran," he said, shaking my
hand, "Tigran Petrosian."
young Armenians playing chess
This seems a weird coincidence. In 1963, his namesake, Tigran
Petrosian, had defeated Mikhail Botvinnik to take the world chess
title.
For Westerners it was a case of one Soviet Man beating another. The
Soviets used chess to demonstrate the superiority of communism over
capitalism, and had created a highly efficient chess factory, churning
out prodigies like sausages.
But that is not how they saw it in Armenia. For them, Petrosian was
above all an Armenian.
National obsession
Tens of thousands of people gathered in Opera Square in the capital
Yerevan, to watch the games being displayed on giant boards, as the
moves were relayed from Moscow.
The result led to an outpouring of patriotic fervour. That same year,
John F Kennedy was assassinated.
"In America everyone can remember where they were when Kennedy was
shot," one man tells me. "Here in Armenia, everyone of a certain age
can recall the exact moment Petrosian became world champion."
>From that moment on, chess became a national obsession.
"A spectator tells me that Armenia's number one player, Levon Aronian,
is their equivalent of David Beckham. He even has the designer
stubble."
My driver, Tigran, was not the only Tigran I met.
Tigran is an ancient Armenian name. Tigran the Great built a vast
empire here in Roman times.
But since the chess conquests of Tigran Petrosian, Tigrans have multiplied.
Tigran Xmalian is a director, who has made a film that uses chess to
tell the history of modern Armenia. It is a tragic story.
The defining episode occurred in World War I. Around a million people
- some say more, others less - were massacred or died of exhaustion in
enforced deportations by the Ottoman Turks.
Armenia
Since the late 1980s, Armenia has experienced a catastrophic
earthquake, war with Azerbaijan and economic collapse. Tigran Xmalian
says chess offers the people hope - the chance of salvation. For in
chess, he says, every pawn can become a queen.
Later I meet the president of the Armenian Chess Federation. The
interview had taken months to arrange.
That may seem odd until you realise that in his spare time, he is also
president of the country.
His cabinet consists of two Tigrans - the prime minister and the
finance minister.
The state already offers free training to the most promising players,
and a guaranteed salary (equivalent to the average wage) to any
Armenian who reaches the elite title of grandmaster.
The president now plans to introduce chess into the school curriculum.
"We don't want people to know Armenia just for the earthquake and the
genocide," President Serge Sarkisian said. "We would rather it was
famous for its chess."
Chess house
In the centre of Yerevan, there is an imposing four-storey,
Stalinist-era edifice where anybody can turn up for a quick blitz
game, lasting just a few minutes, or a more measured contest of
several hours.
Some players thump the pieces down like slabs of meat, others glide
them across the board as if they were fragile china.
The men (they are almost all men) range from international class to
what in the chess community are known as patzers, useless amateurs.
The building is called the Tigran Petrosian Chess House and inside you
can hear lots of explanations as to why Armenians excel at the game.
Secretly, sometimes not so secretly, many think that the real reason
is Armenians are just more creative, more logical, and just, well,
smarter than the rest of us.
Celebrities
Chess tournaments in Jermuk.
At a major international chess tournament taking place in the spa
resort of Jermuk in the arid mountains, I bump into yet another Tigran
Petrosian.
He is no relation of Armenia's chess legend, but when Petrosian won
the world title, says the younger Tigran, his father had a dream that
if he ever had a son he would call him Tigran.
The boy has himself grown up to be a high-ranking grandmaster, a
member of Armenia's world-conquering side.
Cheery and plump, this Tigran Petrosian is an unlikely sex symbol, but
in Armenia chess players are celebrities.
A spectator tells me that Armenia's number-one player, Levon Aronian,
is their equivalent of David Beckham. He even has the designer
stubble. Young girls and aspiring chess players chase him for photos
and autographs.
In Jermuk, the crowds gather in the piazza where the games are being
shown on display boards. A number of seated, elderly gentlemen
passionately debate the moves, the high sun reflecting off their
brown, bald temples.
The tournament is called the Tigran Petrosian Memorial Tournament. The
world champion, who died two decades ago, would have turned 80 this
year.
Tigran Petrosian junior hopes to make the Armenian side that will
defend its gold medal in 2010.
"The name gives me a good feeling," he says.
"But the problem is that with this name everyone expects me to win
every game. It is too much pressure."