“Every chessboard is the same. The champions are not.”
Watch a world chess champion long enough and you start to suspect they’re not playing the same game as the rest of us. Same 64 squares, same knight’s L, same ticking clock — but somehow, they’re moving in a dimension we can’t see.
And what lets them live there?
Not memory. Not calculation. Something stranger, slipperier.
Originality!
A style that’s their own. A mind leaving fingerprints so deep, the rest of us can’t help but follow.
Steinitz: The Man Who Put Rules Around Chaos
Before him, chess was a swashbuckling free-for-all of sacrifices and wishful tactics. Then came Steinitz, muttering about pawn structures outlasting piece activity. People called it overcomplication; history knows it as the birth of modern chess — while everyone else played hero ball, he rewrote the rules.
But can chaos really be contained? Lasker said, “No.”
Lasker: Playing You, Not Just the Board
Emanuel Lasker held the title for 27 years, not by crunching more variations, but by getting inside people’s heads. He played moves that made no sense until—too late—you realized they’d pushed you to self-destruct. He fought psychological battles with pawns and bishops as his soldiers.
If the mind is a battlefield, Capablanca claimed clarity is the deadliest weapon.
Capablanca: The Effortless Assassin
Capablanca walked into tournaments like openings were an optional extra. Ten moves in, your fate was sealed, and you wouldn’t even know it yet. Smooth as glass — so clear, you missed the razor hidden underneath.
But what if simplicity alone isn’t enough? Alekhine answered with a flourish of complexity.
Alekhine: The Artist Who Brought His Own Canvas
Where others saw solidity, Alekhine saw a stage for magic. His attacks seemed to appear out of thin air, yet the worlds he built made them inevitable. It wasn’t just combinations — it was conjuring space for beauty.
And when art meets logic? Euwe showed us the math behind the magic.
Euwe: The Math Teacher Who Beat a Genius
Max Euwe proved you could keep your day job, stay an amateur, and outthink legends. His weapon: turning chaos into equations, coaxing order out of anything wild across the blackboard of the board.
But chess was entering a new era, where systems ruled — enter Botvinnik’s laboratory.
Botvinnik: Turning Chess Into a Science Lab
Botvinnik didn’t chase single brilliancies. He built systems — methods, training, and preparation that could produce champions on repeat. His laboratory turned strategy into legacy.
But even the architect can be outplayed by music—Smyslov found harmony in the storm and took the crown, if only for a moment.
Smyslov: When Chess Sounds Like Music
Vasily Smyslov played positions like a conductor balancing harmony. No note too loud, no chord unresolved. Subtle, precise, quietly devastating.
Yet harmony in chess is fleeting—Tal blasted through with raw, beautiful chaos and claimed Botvinnik’s crown for himself, before the old guard reclaimed it.
Tal: Chaos is a Ladder
Mikhail Tal forced you onto paths your calculation couldn’t keep up with. Half his sacrifices wouldn’t pass an engine check — but they didn’t have to. In Tal’s hands, chaos wasn’t the problem.
Chaos was the ladder.
Climb fast, or fall.
But the spell couldn’t last—Petrosian’s fortress finally overthrew Botvinnik, proving defense could rule the day.
Petrosian: The Wall You Didn’t See Coming
Tigran Petrosian erased threats before you saw them. His exchange sacrifices felt mystical, until you studied the position and saw pure, long-term suffocation — invisible, unstoppable.
Adaptability became the answer—Spassky emerged, blending styles as effortlessly as anyone before him.
Spassky: The Chameleon
Boris Spassky could become anyone the position demanded. Romantic attacker, stonewall defender, positional master — versatility as artistry.
The era of Soviet dominance was methodical; soon came Fischer, smashing through from across the ocean.
Fischer: The Lone Wolf Who Changed the Game Forever
Bobby Fischer didn’t just beat opponents; he bent the culture itself. He brought the increment clock, invented Chess960, and made the game front-page news. Every match felt like the position already belonged to him.
But invincibility is an illusion—Karpov’s quiet suffocation retook the crown with invisible force.
Karpov: Death by Restriction
Anatoly Karpov never knocked you out cold; he closed the cage, move by move, until air vanished. Genius in constructing traps so elegant, you’d walk in willingly.
Kasparov answered the cage with fire—pyrotechnics on a chessboard, brute force mixed with brilliance.
Kasparov: Preparation Meets Pyrotechnics
Garry Kasparov pushed the known into hyperdrive — sacrificing to build pressure, making theory explode into fireworks. A guitarist soloing on centuries-old riffs, somehow making each note his own.
Yet one fortress held strong—Kramnik turned the Berlin Wall into a weapon and ended the legendary reign.
Kramnik: The Berlin Wall with Brains
Vladimir Kramnik dethroned Kasparov not with flash, but with the Berlin Defence — an endgame fortress most saw as dull. But his revolution turned the “boring” into the unbeatable.
Speed and fluidity returned—Anand, lightning in a bottle, brought the world title back home.
Anand: Lightning in a Bottle
Viswanathan Anand fused speed and adaptability, switching styles mid-match as naturally as breathing. Genius that turned thought into moves in real time.
Yet the quiet persistence of Carlsen proved patience can carve chaos into order.
Carlsen: Making the Equal Unequal
Magnus Carlsen doesn’t need an early attack. He drifts into positions computers call “equal” — and then cracks the code. The gift: spotting what no one’s seen yet, like finding the hairline crack in a perfect mirror.
And while others roar, Ding Liren whispers—quiet fire transforming pressure into control.
Ding Liren: The Quiet Flame
Ding Liren’s strength is measured control — clarity in tension, precision amid pressure, calm that turns chaos into order. His title didn’t just mark victory; it shifted chess’s very centre.
Then there’s Gukesh, forging original minds where machines rule.
Gukesh: Trained to Think for Himself
Eighteen years old. Eighteenth world champion. But look beneath the headline.
While the chess world leaned on silicon, Gukesh’s early training under GM Vishnu Prasanna required no engines — forging a mind that could create, not just recall ideas. By the time he reached the summit, Gukesh played his moves, not the algorithm’s.
The Point
The crown of chess changes heads, but it always fits the same kind of mind — the one brave enough to rewrite the script.
From Steinitz to Gukesh, the champions who matter most are the ones who make the rest of us play their game, long after they’re gone. The shape of the crown never changes; only the thinkers bold enough to leave their own prints ever get to wear it.
“If we are not innovating, every week, every month, we will die as a company!”
Kumar Gaurav (Founder @ CircleChess)
About CircleChess
CircleChess is a rapidly growing global chess platform that combines competitive play, structured learning, and cutting-edge technology. With a community of over 1,00,000 chess players, it has emerged as one of the leading forces in the online chess ecosystem.
The platform is guided by some of the finest minds in the chess world. World Champion D. Gukesh serves as the Brand Ambassador, while Grandmaster Vishnu Prasanna, the coach behind Gukesh’s remarkable rise, is the Chief Chess Officer, bringing strategic depth and vision to the platform’s chess initiatives. Through its Caissa School of Chess, CircleChess offers structured, top-coach-led Live Training programs for players across all levels. The school has garnered significant traction globally and is now Available in the USA, UK, Australia, Canada, making high-quality chess education accessible to a wider audience.
