Undergraduate /
High School Chess Championships: A winner [10]
College applications haven't opened yet, so I'm just writing about a topic that interested me and am hoping that I will be able to fit to the topic given in the application.
Please give me any suggestions/advice on how to improve it. In particular, I feel that my attitude change towards the end seems drastic. Do you have any ideas on how to make it seem more realistic? Here is my essay:
A winnerIt was the morning of April 18th, 2010. The sun had just begun breaking the clouds and bestowing its gentle light upon the inhabitants of Earth. There was a light breeze making its way through downtown Ohio and the cacophony of early morning traffic surrounded me as I walked into the Hyatt Regency. These minute details barely registered in my mind as I rushed through the sliding doors of the hotel. All my thoughts were focused on one thing: my game.
It was the last round of the three-day National High School Chess Championships. I had won five out of six rounds. Everything depended on this round. The difference between victory and defeat meant the difference between an impressive trophy and a "consolation prize." I considered this as I walked into the grand hall and looked across the hundreds of chess sets that had been placed for the final round. I was not content to settle for such a low rank. I had to win. I had to succeed.
Chess is not simply a game; it is a war. Each opponent tries to predict the other, set traps, and corner the king. As in any war, there are unprecedented twists and turns. Just as a battlefield never remains static, the board never stays the same. Opportunities arise at unexpected times, and opponents must decide how to use them to their advantage.
For some time, our battle resembled the Cold War. We would come close to all-out war over a single pawn, and then one of us would back off. This nerve-wracking lull in the battle lasted for over an hour as each of us waited for the other to tip the war towards complete mayhem. At last, the scale overbalanced and both of us lost pieces in quick succession. When I lost my Queen, I knew that the battle was lost. My Queen was the tip of the spear that was my attack. Now that the tip was broken, the spear would simply bounce off the armor of my foe.
My four hour game had ended in defeat. I would not be going up on stage. I was simply one of the crowd, forgotten and obscure. Although I was depressed, I put on a brave smile in front of my parents, and went to the bathroom to gather myself. I looked at myself in the mirror: two bloodshot eyes, a depressed expression, and a defeated posture. I shook my head at the mirror, as if I disapproved of the way it depicted me. In truth, I was frustrated by my own incompetence.
I doused my face in the frigid tap water that I cupped in my hands. It was the jolt of cold water that brought me to my senses. It felt so good, so fresh, and so full of life. Suddenly my attitude seemed childish. Had I become so occupied with the concept of winning that I had mistaken it for success? Winning or losing is the perception of people around me. Whether I win or lose depends on how I perceive myself, and I refuse to define myself based on what other people think about me.
Chess is not about winning or losing; it's about learning. I should be proud of what I had accomplished. I had tried my best, and I had held my own against someone who was more experienced. In the process, I achieved a new level of concentration. Four hours was the longest I had ever spent on a single game. While competition is certainly important, it is simply another means towards self-improvement, nothing more.
I came out of the bathroom with a genuine smile on my face. I went backstage, and proudly received my consolation prize. I felt like a winner.
