Introduction
Finding regular over-the-board chess tournaments as an adult is sometimes a luxury. Having a competitive atmosphere nearby is even rarer.
After my first tournament in Vietnam, in Ho Chi Minh City, I realised how much I had missed competitive chess. It had been years since I had sat across from an opponent, pressed the clock, and felt the pressure of every move. That experience motivated me to sign up for another tournament—not only to test myself again, but also to create a monthly cycle of learning, reflection, and improvement.
If you have not read it yet, you can check out my first tournament in Vietnam.
[Read My First Tournament Story]
One thing I have understood about adults returning to competitive chess is that it is rarely a knowledge problem. It is more of a focus problem.
You know the rules. You recognise patterns. You calculate variations reasonably well. Yet you miss tactical opportunities, overlook simple continuations, and sometimes become so attached to your own plans that you forget an important fact: there is another person sitting across the board, and they are playing to win too.
The challenge is not getting back into tournament chess. The real challenge is developing the discipline that young players seem to possess naturally.
My target is to reach an Elo rating of 1800 by December 2027. I know the journey will not be straightforward. I may lose rating points. I may need to rebuild my confidence more than once. But that is exactly what makes the challenge exciting.
This tournament was another step in that journey.
You will see many more stories from the tournaments I play in the coming years. For now, let’s move to the five games that defined this event.
Round 1 – Hard Work Pays Off
Like my previous tournament, I started this event with a simple target: score at least 50% of the available points and consider it a successful outing.
One Grandmaster once said that finishing with 50% is always a satisfactory performance because it shows consistency and provides a solid foundation to build on. For a player returning to competitive chess, that felt like a realistic goal—and an important one for my confidence.
My first-round game began with the King’s Indian Defense. For the first 11 moves, both of us followed the main ideas accurately. The first turning point came with my opponent’s 12.Re1, an inaccuracy that gave me a chance to seize the initiative.
I managed to increase the pressure, forcing further inaccuracies with 18.Qe2 and 19.g4. At that moment, I had an opportunity to play a stronger continuation, but tournament chess is never straightforward. I missed the best move and played 19…Qg5 instead, allowing the position to return to equality.
However, chess is a game of two imperfect players.
Perhaps my opponent tried too hard to regain the initiative and began making a series of mistakes. By move 24, the position had become strategically lost.
As many great players have said, the hardest games to win are the ones you are already winning. Once I gained a decisive advantage, my focus shifted from finding brilliant moves to avoiding unnecessary complications.
During the post-game analysis, I discovered that I had missed a forced mate in nine moves. A stronger player might spot such a sequence, but at my current level, calculating that deeply under tournament pressure remains a challenge.
Still, I stayed patient, trusted my preparation, and converted the advantage without giving my opponent any chances.
Hard work does not guarantee perfect games. It gives you enough understanding to capitalise when opportunities appear.
And in Round 1, that was enough.
Round 2 – A Draw Is a Good Result
The second round began with an Italian Game and quickly developed into a calm, positional battle.
For the first nine moves, both of us followed well-known ideas and maintained equality. Around move 10, I felt my opponent’s 10…Ng5 was a slight inaccuracy, giving me a small opportunity to press for an advantage.
A few months ago, I would have immediately started looking for tactical shots or forcing continuations. This time, however, I focused on improving my pieces and maintaining activity rather than chasing brilliance.
That approach kept the position balanced.
After a series of exchanges, we reached an equal endgame with no clear winning chances for either side. There was no reason to overcomplicate the position or take unnecessary risks.
We agreed to a draw.
Tournament chess often teaches us that not every game needs to be won. Sometimes, recognising that a position is equal and accepting the result is a sign of maturity.
Walking away from the board with 1.5 points out of 2 felt like a strong start. More importantly, I had avoided forcing the issue and remained disciplined.
The score now read: 1.5/2.
Round 3 – Patience Matters.
If there is one opening that defines club-level chess in Vietnam, it is the Sicilian Defense.
Over the past few tournaments and casual games, I have noticed that many Vietnamese players return to the Sicilian repeatedly. They understand the structures well, play patiently, and seem comfortable in almost every variation.
So, naturally, I expected another Sicilian battle.
Instead, my opponent surprised me with 1.c4, the English Opening.
I was caught off guard. It was the last game of the day after two long rounds, and facing an opening I had not prepared for was not exactly ideal.
Both of us looked a little tired. The game moved at a slower pace as we searched for opportunities to create imbalances.
After 16…Qc7, I felt the momentum shift. For the first time in the tournament, I sensed that I was under real pressure. It felt as though I had walked into my opponent’s plans and was struggling to find a way out.
Fortunately, I still had plenty of time on the clock.
Instead of rushing, I used those extra minutes to calculate carefully and look for defensive resources. By the time my opponent played 19.d4, the position had equalised and his advantage had disappeared.
After 22.c5, it became increasingly clear that the game was heading towards a draw.
However, tournament chess rarely ends without one final twist.
While trying to force equality despite being a pawn down, I made my first serious mistake of the game with 28…Qg6. Suddenly, the evaluation shifted again, and it was my opponent’s turn to find the right continuation.
To my relief, he missed his chance with 31.Rd2.
A few moves later, we agreed to a draw.
This game was not about finding the best move. It was about using my time wisely.
Having enough time on the clock after 16…Qc7 allowed me to stay calm, calculate accurately, and save a difficult position.
Round 3 taught me an important lesson: patience is not just a virtue in chess—it is a skill.
The Score reads: 2/3.
Round 4 – Winning Positions are difficult to convert.
The fourth round was the first game of the day, and by now there were no surprises when my opponent opened with the Sicilian Defense.
The game quickly settled into familiar territory. Both of us played confidently, and the moves came naturally.
After 18…Re8, I felt the momentum shift in my favour. The position was clearly more pleasant for White, and as the game progressed, my advantage continued to grow.
By move 27, the engine later confirmed what I had felt during the game: I was more than an exchange up, with an evaluation of over +5. At that point, it seemed there were only two possible results—a win for White or a draw. Black had very few active ideas.
But chess is rarely that simple.
My opponent refused to give up. Instead of collapsing under pressure, he found one resilient move after another and kept creating practical problems.
I, on the other hand, relaxed too early.
Somewhere along the way, I missed a critical defensive resource. The position that had once looked easy to convert suddenly became difficult. Move after move, I pushed hard for the win, but my confidence had already turned into impatience.
After more than two hours at the board, fatigue started to play its part.
Then came the decisive mistake: 50.Qe2.
With that move, I let go of almost all my advantage. A few moves later, exhausted and unable to find a clear path forward, we agreed to a draw.
On paper, this felt like a missed opportunity.
But looking back, Round 4 taught me one of the most important lessons in tournament chess: winning positions are often the hardest to win.
From move 27 onwards, I had the advantage. The challenge was no longer finding tactics or calculating complications—it was maintaining focus and continuing to play with the same discipline that had created the advantage in the first place.
The moment you believe the game is already won is often the moment the game begins to slip away.
That lapse in concentration cost me half a point.
The score now read: 2.5/4
Round 5 – Complacency is dangerous.
The final round turned out to be my most disappointing game of the tournament—not because of my preparation or lack of knowledge, but because of my mindset.
Going into the game, I was sitting on 2.5 points out of 4 and looking forward to finishing the tournament on a high. I felt confident. Too confident.
When my opponent chose the Sicilian Defense, I experienced a sense of déjà vu. By then, I had played the Sicilian so many times in Vietnam that I assumed this game would follow a familiar pattern.
That assumption was my biggest mistake.
Instead of respecting the position and my opponent, I started thinking about the result before earning it on the board. In my mind, the game would end in either a win or a draw.
My opponent clearly had other plans.
For the first 19 moves, the position remained balanced. Then came 20.Be4, followed by 21.Kh1. Those two moves gave my opponent the breakthrough she had been searching for.
Suddenly, I was under pressure and struggling to find answers to her attack.
She played confidently, seized the initiative, and converted her advantage into a winning position.
Even then, chess gave me one final opportunity.
After 31…Rd1, my opponent made an inaccuracy and offered me a chance to fight back. But instead of looking for active resources, I became too cautious. I was afraid to think creatively and failed to find the continuation that could have turned the game around.
Eventually, I had to accept defeat.
Looking back, I do not blame my opening preparation or my understanding of the Sicilian. This loss was about attitude.
Having played so many Sicilian positions in Vietnam, I became complacent. I assumed familiarity would automatically lead to good decisions.
It does not.
Every game starts from zero. Every opponent deserves respect. And every position demands your full attention.
The moment you stop concentrating is the moment chess reminds you how unforgiving it can be.
The final score read: 2.5/5.
Not the result I had hoped for, but a valuable reminder that in chess, confidence is important—complacency is dangerous
The Way Forward
Winning and losing are part of chess, just as they are part of life.
Sometimes you win. Sometimes you lose. Sometimes you are forced to make difficult decisions with incomplete information. The clock keeps ticking, the game moves forward, and you learn to do the same.
Chess has been one of the great passions of my life.
Growing up, I did not have the opportunity to play competitive chess regularly. Life had different plans. Today, I finally have the time, resources, and freedom to return to the board.
That alone feels like a victory.
This tournament was another small step towards my goal of reaching an Elo rating of 1800 by December 2027.
The result—2.5 points out of 5—may not tell the full story, but the lessons certainly do.
I learned that focus matters more than preparation. That patience can save difficult positions. That winning games are often the hardest to convert. And most importantly, I learned that complacency can undo hours of good play.
There will be more tournaments, more mistakes, more victories, and many more lessons along the way.
After all, goals are important—but goals mean nothing without a path and the discipline to follow it, no matter how difficult the journey becomes.
This is just the beginning.
I’ll be back with more stories from the tournaments ahead.
Until then, keep learning, keep competing, and keep enjoying the game.
Ciao!
I am the investor!
Haha! Indeed you are.