I Thought I Was Ready for Classical Chess. I Wasn't.

Classical chess is something I always ran away from. Quite ironic, given that I have admitted on several occasions that I prefer longer time controls.
For me, long time controls mean 25+0 or 20+10 on Lichess. That's the classical chess I know. Those time controls sit somewhere in the middle of perfect chess: enough time to think, calculate, and decide on plans without spending an eternity on a single move.

Now, it would be quite funny to say I found over-the-board classical chess too long.
My first round, I was almost falling asleep mid-game. My opponent spent a whopping 30 minutes on a move! What was he thinking? I thought, Oh, he must be a weak 1964.
We drew, and I had to fight for that draw.
My first classical event was perhaps one of the best things I have done for myself chess-wise.
I remember talking with a friend before the tournament. He said I was in for a ride. By ride, he meant I would get beaten black and blue. Of course, he was right. I did get beaten, but I think that, for my first classical outing, it wasn't too much of a beating.

The Journey to Ilesha

The trip to Ilesha was quite fascinating, logistics aside.
I had to sort out logistics for a number of players from the University of Ilorin Chess Team, so it is safe to say I was stressed outside the usual tournament stress. That's quite normal, though. I love helping out whenever I can, especially when it comes to Ilorin Chess.
I started my chess journey there, and whenever it comes to Ilorin Chess, I am always involved. Whatever I am today, I owe a lot to the people and community that helped me grow.

That said, my trip to Ilesha and the University of Ilesa was relatively smooth. A few bad roads here and there, but otherwise, it was a direct ride.
The organisers did a wonderful job. The hostel accommodation was quite good, and I had no complaints about it.

However, I couldn't eat on the first day. I had arrived on a Thursday, and apparently, the shops were closed. It was a newer university, so finding food wasn't as easy as I had expected.

Imagine this: first-day travel stress, coordinating a couple of university players who are always arguing, and cereals as your only food option.
You have the recipe for a frustrating first day.

The second day was better, though. At least we could order rice and egg for ₦1,500. I thought it was expensive. I mean, I typically eat at bukas, but then again, I am the rugged one, so perhaps it wasn't that expensive after all.

The Games Begin

My typical tournament essentials were ready: an energy drink, Coke, and table water. With those, I was prepared for my first round against Abraham Oguntona, a 1964-rated player from the University of Ibadan.

I had seen him once or twice during earlier chess trips. He was associated with UCH chess, and I have had a bad experience with players from there.
I knew one thing going into the game: if I survived the opening, I would be good.

Well, surviving the opening turned out to be the easy part. The rest of the game was a different story.
My opponent spent an incredible amount of time on a move. I struggled to stay alert, and at some point, I was genuinely fighting sleep. It was my first taste of proper over-the-board classical chess, and I was already discovering that playing long games online and sitting across a board for hours are two entirely different experiences.

We eventually drew, but I had to work for it.

Round two brought a different challenge. My opponent was a veteran, Giwa Oladotun, rated 1945. He tried an early attack, perhaps assuming that being unrated meant I couldn't play chess.

It became a familiar battle: attack on the flank, counterattack in the centre. I found some nice tactics involving Nxf3, and I was pleased with how I handled the position.
I won.

Two rounds in, I had drawn one game and won the other. Not a bad start for someone making his classical debut.

Sleep, Then More Chess

After the first round on Day Two, I finally did something I probably should have prioritised earlier: I slept.
And I didn't just take a quick nap. I had a long sleep.
After the exhaustion of the previous day, I needed it. I had underestimated just how draining classical chess could be, and the combination of travel, logistics, and hours at the board had taken its toll.

I thought I was prepared for the physical demands because I regularly played longer time controls online. I wasn't.
It was a reminder that tournament preparation goes beyond studying openings and solving puzzles. You also need to eat properly, rest, and give yourself the best chance of thinking clearly when it matters.

Round three came on another day, against Ifeoluwa Emmanuel Osisanwo, rated 1927. We drew, I was down a whole piece!

Then came my first loss, against Jamiu Ninilowo, rated 1915.
I bounced back in Round 5 with a win against Malik Idris Omidiji, rated 1775.

Unfortunately, Round 6 brought another loss against Mickey Izuogu, rated 1942.

By the final round, I had two wins, two draws, and two losses. I finished the tournament with a victory against Floresaint Patrick, rated 1772, bringing my total to four points out of seven.

Three wins, two draws, and two losses.
Not bad for an unrated player making his classical debut.
But enough about the chess. Let's talk about the experience.

Classical Chess Is Exhausting

I was exhausted.
And I mean, exhausted.
I thought I was prepared for the exhaustion. After all, I play long time controls regularly. I thought I understood what it meant to sit down, calculate, and spend hours trying to find the best moves.
I was wrong.

There is something different about over-the-board classical chess. You don't have the comfort of your room or your usual playing environment. You sit across from another person, calculate variations, manage your clock, deal with the position, and try to remain mentally sharp for hours.

Even when nothing seems to be happening on the board, your mind is working.
And when you add travel fatigue, poor feeding on the first day, and the responsibility of coordinating other players, the experience becomes even more demanding.

I discovered that being able to play long games is not the same as being prepared for classical chess.
Stamina is a skill of its own.
You can know the right moves, understand the position, and calculate accurately, but if your mind is tired, your decisions begin to suffer. In classical chess, one bad decision can cost you hours of good work.
That was one of the biggest lessons I took away from Ilesa.

When a Draw Isn't Enough

One thing that surprised me was how comfortable some players were with draws.
I lost two games, and looking back, I can say that I was willing to take risks in positions where I wanted more than a half-point. My opponents, on the other hand, weren't always interested in taking those same risks.
It was an interesting contrast.

I went into the tournament wanting to test myself, fight for wins, and see how far I could push my opponents. I wasn't particularly interested in playing safe chess just to accumulate points.
Of course, that approach has its consequences.
Sometimes, you take a risk and it works. Other times, you overestimate your position, miscalculate, or give your opponent the opportunity they need to turn the game around.

I experienced both sides of that reality.
But I don't regret playing that way.
There is a difference between losing because you don't understand what you're doing and losing because you understand the risks but choose to take them anyway. The latter can still be a mistake, but it gives you something to examine, learn from, and improve upon.

That doesn't mean I intend to keep throwing away points in the name of fighting chess. There is a balance between being ambitious and being reckless, and learning where that balance lies is part of becoming a stronger player.
Perhaps the biggest surprise was realising that not everyone at the board was looking for the same thing I was. Some players were content to take a draw when the opportunity presented itself. I was often more interested in finding a way to keep the game alive.

Neither approach is inherently wrong. A tournament is a competition, and everyone has their own way of approaching it.
But I came away understanding that I need to be more deliberate about when to push and when to exercise patience.

The Prize Money

Remember that prize I mentioned?
Well, I won some cash, and naturally, I had plans for it. Or at least, I would have had plans if the money had been enough to do anything meaningful.
I bought Coke with my prize money.
That was all it was enough to buy.
After travelling to Ilesha, surviving hours of classical chess, and fighting for points, I walked away with enough prize money to buy a bottle of Coke.

No complaints, though. A win is a win, and Coke tastes nice anyway.
Chess can be a humbling game. Sometimes, you walk away with a trophy, sometimes with a rating gain, and sometimes with just enough prize money to buy a drink.
I'll take it, it was my sweat.

Was It Worth It?

Absolutely.
My first classical tournament wasn't perfect. I struggled with fatigue, had to deal with the usual tournament logistics, and discovered that my online experience hadn't prepared me for everything I would encounter over the board.
I also lost games I would have loved to win.

But I got something valuable in return: experience.
I scored four points out of seven, won a prize, and came away with a much better understanding of what I need to work on. For an unrated player making his classical debut, I think that's a decent starting point.

More importantly, I played against experienced opponents who tested me in ways I hadn't encountered before. I learned more about my approach to chess, my decision-making under pressure, and the importance of physical and mental stamina.

I also learned that I need to be more patient. Not every position needs to be forced into a win, and not every draw is a missed opportunity. Sometimes, the strongest move is the one that keeps the position under control rather than the one that promises the most excitement.

For years, classical chess felt like something I would get around to eventually. I preferred my familiar online time controls, where I could enjoy the game without committing an entire afternoon to a single encounter.
Ilesha changed that perspective.

If I want to become a stronger over-the-board player, I cannot keep avoiding the format that demands the most from me. I need to play more classical games, learn to manage my energy, and become comfortable with the patience the format requires.

My first outing wasn't a grand performance, but neither was it the disaster my friend had predicted.

I went in expecting to be beaten black and blue. Instead, I came away with three wins, two draws, two losses, a prize, and a much better understanding of what I need to improve.
And, of course, Coke.
The funny thing is, I don't have much time to sit around reflecting on the experience.

Tomorrow, I'm playing at Chess on Board Lagos. It's a rapid tournament, so at least I won't have to worry about someone spending 30 minutes on a single move.
Well, hopefully.