Some 4,000 years ago a simple game developed in China, pitting black stones against white. One legend has an emperor inventing the game for his weak-minded son; another has a musician-sorcerer sprouting insect wings, ascending a mountain-top and miraculously discovering the game. Introduced to Japan about 1,500 years ago, the Japanese studied, systematized and eventually became masters of the game go, valuing it as much for its artistry and grace as for its intellectual challenges.
Go, unlike other brute-intellect games, values decorum and etiquette. Small details matter, like grasping the stone in the proper manner, and placing handicap stones down in the right order. And, if one really wants to be considered a go player, one cultivates a proper fighting spirit without attachment to winning.
Computer programs struggle to keep up with even an average go player, further evidencing the game’s complexities and endless combinations. In chess, Deep Blue II has upset the world grandmaster; in go, I am told that the best computer program can’t beat me, conclusive evidence that computers can’t handle a game that demands the flexibility that a human way of thinking provides.
Go is more strategic than chess, which tends to be more tactical. With a smaller board, chess has constant conflict. Not so with go. The 361 squares of the game’s grid provide numerous opportunities for small skirmishes. Players may, with greater effectiveness, avoid a battle in favor of building position elsewhere. Yielding is not only the way of the universe, as the Chinese sage Lao Tze expounded 4,000 years ago, but very often the way of the skilled go player.
The weaker player, who always plays black, enjoys the advantage of a handicapping system. Thus, nearly any two players, regardless of skill levels, can play a competitive game. Some players may receive nine or more stones before the level of competition becomes balanced.
In chess, the objective is very clear: kill the king. The objective of go is not always as clear: One strives to gain territory, the securing of which is often uncertain. With the multitude of options, players often mutally assume territory, or stones, lost even while they still have some life. An amateur go game ends when both players mutually agree that there are no more good tones to play. For a beginner, that’s not so easy to know.
From a sociological perspective, chess, with its king, queen, knights and pawns, mimics a feudal system. Go is based on more of an egalitarian model–all go stones have equal value. The go board is slightly asymmetrical, which is said to reveal the Japanese distaste for symmetry. The squares are slightly rectangular; black stones are actually a little bigger than white ones.
Go, which is referred to as igo in Japanese, involves the subtle, strategic maneuvers and decisions that general may make. In fact, at various times in history, Chinese and Japanese military men sought to enhance military strategy by understanding go. At the time of the Korean War, an American received a grant to study the game and provide the U.S. military with insights into the Chinese military mind.
Utilizing the standard Japanese ranking system, a weak player starts with a high kyu rank–perhaps 20 kyu or more–and as he gets stronger his kyu number gets smaller, until he reaches the strongest kyu rank of one. From there, he would move to shodan, or one dan, then two dan, on up. An 8 dan amateur is the approximate strength of a shodan pro. For go players at a low kyu level (meaning a strong kyu player), go clubs are always an option, although some say you should be shodan before going. Club sensei have always made me feel welcome even while I hovered at the shodan rank. Some club members, who tend to be of ojisan (older) age, enjoy the novelty of a comparatively young foreign player, and are very kind–but not particularly easy to understand.
The game go has simple rules and in fact deceives players into feeling they understand things deeper than they actually do–a lot like life. Players tend to wait for a go revelation to result in a large leap of strength. “If I could just find that flaw in my game…” a friend always said. After 15 years I still wait for my revelation.
0 Response to “Let’s go! (KTO August 1998)”