(It's times like this I'm glad this blog isn't popular anymore.)
I have three shelves full of chess books, and a roughly equal number of go books. I consider myself a fan of both games, and routinely list go as one of my three "perfect 10" games. (The others being Combat Commander and Amun-Re. I go by categories.)
However, I virtually never play chess or go, even against the computer. I used to play go every week (or more) when I lived in Austin, but now...not so much. I love it, but I've lost the will to play it. Why?
I'm afraid of losing, basically; I don't want to look unintelligent. To paraphrase an old chestnut, I have chosen to keep my stones in their bowls and be thought a fool rather than play them and remove all doubt.
In some ways, this is partly because of the things that have led to me taking nine pills a day, racking up $1000 worth of mental health care a month (all paid by my insurance, thank heaven), and so on. It ties into why I have trouble writing; I might get caught out in an error; why risk it?
(Why yes I do have a paper due this week that I'd be better off writing rather than this, why do you ask?)
I suppose the real question is why this doesn't present a problem with other games. Part of it has to do with how chess and go are "touchstone of the intellect"-type games that have centuries of experience, literature, and thought invested in them. Millions have played, computers have been programmed to play them, hymns have been sung in their honor, there are professional players who play for millions. Amun-Re, on the other hand, has been around for six years, there are maybe 20,000 copies out there, and the great mass of humanity has never heard of it.
Also, it has to do with the playing culture. Most gaming "scenes" are not enormously competitive. (Exceptions, exceptions.) Mostly, though, games are social enough that the stigma attached to losing is not too great. On the other hand, I feel the cold stare of the millions of better go players than I am whenever I put a duck on the board. I've somehow spoiled the game.
Great chess players often speak about how winning just feels sort of like having driven home from the store without getting into an accident: Nothing special, but obviously better than the alternative. Losing, however, is vastly worse: Like an insult, or an injustice. For the insecure patzer, winning is like escaping, and losing is like having your worst fears about yourself confirmed.
(I'm not fishing for compliments here; just noting something odd about my game-playing preferences. I'll probably nuke this one in a few days.)
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