Blog GilaChess

 MyChessDB has dug up a strangely old but familiar fear: having your PGN exposed. Several parents, and even a few players, have indicated they’re not happy about a platform collecting and listing all their games.

I can’t say I’m surprised. It’s not a fear with a fancy name like “arachnophobia”, but anyone who has played tournament chess knows the feeling. Call it chess anxiety or PGN anxiety, driven by exposure, judgment and a bit of vulnerability. A PGN is (for those who don’t know) Portable Game Notation, the move-by-move record of your game.

Here’s why I think it bites:

• Exposure: Chess is tied up with ego. A PGN shows every blunder in chronological order, with no excuses attached. Some players worry it will “prove” they aren’t as good as their rating suggests.
• Opening leakage: For serious tournament players, a public database means future opponents can study your repertoire and prepare something nasty. Fair enough, though I’d add that most of us aren’t important enough for anyone to bother :)
• Permanence: An embarrassing game stays in a database forever. That’s an uncomfortable thought, especially for a young player who has just had a bad day.

Okay there is the question of legality and privacy. Can a platform expose a game of a young, say 7 year old? A parent can cite the young one games should not be collected and broadcasted to the public. But in terms of copyright, it has been proven no one can hold the copyright of PGN games in two famous cases in the court of law in 2010 and 2016. In terms of exposing a young one's game, the World Cadets (Under-8, Under-10, Under-12) and World Youth (Under-14, Under-16, Under-18) for both Open and Girls sections where FIDE have the games broadcasted and PGN available in public.

I’ll admit the parents’ concern deserves extra respect. It’s one thing for an adult to accept being searchable. It’s another for a child’s games to be collected without anyone asking. I don’t have the answer on privacy settings or opt-outs for MyChessDB, so I won’t pretend to. If you have any thoughts on this, please comment.

That said, here’s how I’d look at it, as a third-rate blogger who has not posted many of his own embarrassing games over the years. But I have. One of which I "cheated" vs Nur Ilhamuddin:

1. Everyone blunders: Even Super Grandmasters have PGNs where they hang a piece or lose in 15 moves. A PGN is a record of one human moment, not a verdict on your intelligence.
2. Nobody cares as much as you think: Unless you’re a top-tier player, most people browsing a database are only checking what openings you play. They are not sitting there laughing at move 23.
3. It can sharpen you: If you know the game might be seen, you may concentrate a little harder. Not a bad side effect.

To summarise, the fear is real and perfectly normal, but the cure is mostly perspective. Players and parents should still have a say in how their games are shared, and I hope organisers and platforms listen.

I did publish my infamous game vs Nur Ilhamuddin but the PGN was lost when I lost my gilachess domain. I sure wish I had MyChessDb then so that it would save that precious PGN. Of course that's a mix bag when I want my other embarassing games never be seen by any human eyes.

So tell me, would you be happy to see all your games listed in one place? Or would you rather keep a few of them buried deep, like I do? :)

 Chess is not in the 2027 SEA Games, and I think the reasons are mostly boring ones:

• medals,
• money and
• nobody lobbying hard enough.

The SEA Games Federation has settled on 43 sports and 473 events for the 34th SEA Games, spread across Kuala Lumpur, Sarawak, Penang and Johor. Bangkok 2025 had 573 events across 50 sports, so roughly 100 medal events got cut. Padel, kabaddi, teqball, dancesport and ice hockey all got back in on appeal. Chess did not!

I should say upfront that nobody has given an official reason (not that I've seen, anyway). What follows is my own reading of the situation, so please take it with a pinch of salt. And if you don't agree, please comment. Here is how I see it:

1. Medal harvesting: Host countries like to add sports where they are almost sure to win gold. Vietnam and Indonesia have strong GM rosters, so chess golds are hard to predict for Malaysia. Tenpin bowling, on the other hand, goes from 6 golds in Bangkok to 22 in 2027 (that is the number I was given, and I haven't double-checked it). You can see where the organisers' heads are at.
2. Cost trimming: Four clusters means four sets of venues, transport and accommodation. When you must go from 50 sports down to 43, the sports that are not Olympic and cannot promise host gold are the easy ones to drop. Sadly, chess is one of them.
3. Nobody pushed: Five sports made it back through the appeal window. Chess was not one of them, which suggests nobody lobbied loudly enough, or early enough. I can't prove it, but it is hard to see any other explanation.

Now this bugs me. A lot! On paper, Malaysia should be the stronger chess nation here, at least compared with Thailand. I believe we are ranked higher in FIDE terms (somewhere around the mid-60s to 70s globally, but please don't quote me on the exact number). We also have more IMs and one newly minted GM, and our open tournaments draw big crowds.

There were five other sports were not included in Malaysia’s initial 38-sport programme, and national Olympic committees were then invited to submit appeals for additional sports. 5 sports were added based on the appeal but chess was not one of them!

Thailand included chess in SEA games 2025. Thailand seems to get far more backing from government and institutions for its board games. I don't have solid numbers on how much, and I won't pretend to, but the general impression from people I've spoken to is that they have an easier time getting support. 

To summarise,

• Chess is out: 2027 SEA Games, no appeal succeeded.
• Likely reasons: medal targets, cost cutting, and no real lobbying.
• The gap: we may have the better players, but Thailand seems to have the better support.

I would love to be proven wrong on any of this, especially by someone from the organising committee or our federation. If you know more, please tell me!! 

That’s an understatement. By Malaysian weekend-tournament standards, it’s impressive.

The TNC Cup Chess Championship 2026 was held at IOI Mall Kulai on 17 and 18 October, and the turnout was more than healthy. I wasn’t there myself, so everything below comes from a Facebook post by the Kulai Member of Parliament’s office. It’s an official post, so take it with the usual caveat, but the numbers are specific enough that I’m happy to share them. Results will be available later at results.catur.org.

Here’s how the 368 broke down:

• 17 October: 200 players, made up of 88 in the Open category and 112 kids in the Under-12 (U12) section.
• 18 October: 159 players in the individual event, plus a team event with 56 teams (168 players).

What I like most is the mix. Players came from Malaysia, Indonesia, Bangladesh, Singapore and Australia. For a mall event in Kulai, that’s a decent regional spread. Johor has plenty of chess energy, and this adds one more name to the list of places worth visiting.

The post also makes a point about what chess teaches kids: thinking under pressure, strategic planning and mental resilience. It’s the standard line, but it’s true, and anyone who has watched a U12 player hold a draw from a lost position knows it. The parents also received a well-deserved thank-you. Behind every 8-year-old at the board is a parent who woke up early, drove, queued and waited. Credit goes to the organisers and arbiters too (Chong Yong Soon and friends !!) , because a smooth event with 368 players doesn’t happen by accident.

Now for the part I appreciate most: the money.

• Who: Pejabat Ahli Parlimen Kulai (the Kulai MP’s office)
• How much: RM10,000
• For whom: PERTISAS UTM and CYS Chess Enterprise, the organisers, presented during the closing ceremony

RM10,000 is real support, and it came with an official presence at the event. Local organisers know how hard it is to find sponsors, so I’ll always say well done when an elected representative backs a grassroots tournament.

To summarise:

1. 368 participants across two days, from five countries
2. A mix of Open, U12, individual and team formats
3. RM10,000 from the Kulai MP’s office to the organisers
4. Shopping mall venues keep proving they can work for chess

Results : 

Open
https://s4.chess-results.com/tnrWZ.aspx?lan=1&art=4&turdet=YES&flag=30&tno=1512356

Team
https://s4.chess-results.com/tnrWZ.aspx?lan=1&art=0&turdet=YES&flag=30&tno=1512355

Team under-12
https://s1.chess-results.com/tnr1465088.aspx?lan=1&art=0&turdet=YES&SNode=S0

Interactive and report in my next blog post.

I stopped playing over-the-board chess about eleven years ago. Ole Ole Shah Alam 2015 was the last tournament I played in.Even that I entered because it was near where I lived.

The reasons were simple enough: I didn't enjoy sitting over a classical game for two-plus hours, and competitive chess made me anxious. Even short, rapid games. There was no dramatic exit — I just drifted away. Also, I prefer to be the person who captures interesting stories from a chess tournament which is why I am usually a "chess blogger" or photographer instead of a player in any chess tournament.

Last weekend I came back, at a 56-player rapid tournament (15+0) in my hometown of Teluk Intan. It's a small place that rarely sees a chess tournament, which felt like the right setting for a low-stakes experiment.

What I expected vs. what I got

My playing strength at ELO 1870 has always been mediocre in a very specific way: I never drop below 50%, and I never climb far above it either. I expected more of the same. What I didn't expect was to feel completely calm. In the past, my heart would pound before every game. This time, nothing. Just quiet.

The chess itself was a mess. I was chronically short on time — 15 minutes felt like permanent time trouble — and I made silly mistakes, dropping pieces in all my games.. My problem-solving was not what I wanted it to be. And yet I scored 4 out of 7. Neither happy nor disappointed. About 50%, as usual.

The most memorable moment: I lost the exchange. Then I lost a whole rook. And somehow I swindled my way to a win anyway. If that doesn't sum up mediocre-but-stubborn chess, I don't know what does.

Why I actually came back

Here's the honest part. I wasn't really testing my chess. I wanted to test my problem-solving skills under pressure — the same muscles I use for coding and software development. Chess was just the laboratory. And the results were useful: my calculation was rusty, my time management was poor, but my composure held. That's worth knowing.

Will I play more OTB? Most probably not. But online, maybe because of the silly challenge to get a FIDE arena online title challenge. 

Champion of the Lotus Teluk Intan Rapid:

Another reason I quit chess. I particularly hate losing to young kids. Who doesn't!

at least I got a real physical certificate (not the fashionable digital version many tournaments are giving out)

Let me say up front where I stand: I’m going to keep calling it Fischer Random Chess. Not “Freestyle.” Not out of stubbornness, but because names matter, and this one belongs to the man who earned it.

I don't think there is a debate but I wish there was. Whether dropping Bobby Fischer’s name does him a disservice has been simmering for a while now, and there’s no neat consensus. It mostly comes down to whether you value history or marketing more. Let me lay out both sides, but you know where I stand on this.

The Case That It IS a Disservice

Fischer introduced the variant in 1996. That’s not a vague bit of folklore, it’s a documented moment in chess history. He designed it with specific rules in mind: the bishops must start on opposite colors, and the king must sit between the rooks so castling remains possible. Those weren’t random decisions (pun intended). They were the work of a man who thought deeply about what makes a starting position playable.

When you strip his name off the format, you strip away the origin story. A new fan who hears only “Freestyle Chess” has no reason to ever ask where it came from. Credit for an invention is a small thing to ask for, and it’s exactly the thing that quietly disappears when a name is swapped out.

The Case That It’s NOT a Disservice

I’d be doing you a disservice if I pretended the other side has nothing. They have real points.

Marketability. “Freestyle Chess,” popularized by events like the Freestyle Chess G.O.A.T. Challenge, sounds modern and intuitive. Casual fans, sponsors and media find it easier to embrace. That matters when you’re trying to grow a format.

The Fischer problem. Fischer’s legacy is deeply complicated by his virulently anti-Semitic statements and erratic behavior later in life. Some organizers and sponsors would simply rather not attach their brand to that. I understand the instinct, even if I don’t share the conclusion.

The name was never fixed anyway. Fischer himself called it Fischerandom Chess. FIDE adopted the technical name Chess960, after the 960 possible starting positions. So this format has always lived under multiple names, and some see “Freestyle” as just the latest evolution rather than a targeted snub.

Where I Come Down

Here’s my take. Chess960 is a perfectly fine technical label, and it describes the math honestly. But “Fischer Random” is the name that tells the story, and I don’t think we should let it fade.

Separating the invention from the inventor’s personal failings is something we do all the time in other fields. We can acknowledge the man was deeply flawed and still credit him for what he created. Honoring a contribution is not the same as endorsing a life. Erasing the name doesn’t erase the controversy, it just erases the chess.

Still, I’ll give the other camp this much: the surge in popularity of these tournaments arguably fulfills Fischer’s ultimate goal. He wanted an elite, mainstream format built on pure creativity rather than memorized opening theory, and that’s exactly what the game is becoming. If a rebrand is what finally got it there, that’s hard to argue with.

But success under a new banner shouldn’t mean forgetting who drew the blueprint. Call it whatever you like in a sponsor deck. In my corner, it stays Fischer Random Chess.