I have always had a problem with his name. I first met Efstratios Grivas, a chess grandmaster from Greece, in Tromso, Norway in 2014 when he was the coach of the Sri Lankan team for the Chess Olympiad and I was the non-playing captain cum coach. ‘Grandmaster’ seemed too formal. ‘Grivas’ was too casual. ‘Efstratios’ was hard to pronounce. I called him ‘captain.’
Now, 12 years later, he is once again our coach and I am also here in Samarkand, Uzbekistan, for the Chess Olympiad or rather the Congressional Sessions and Election of the world body for chess, FIDE. He is the official ‘captain’. I am the official delegate of Sri Lanka.
A few weeks ago, when we came
to an agreement about this particular assignment, I told him that I
never knew how to address him. He laughed and came up with some
suggestions. I asked him what his name meant. ‘Efstratios,’ he said,
meant ‘General.’ Seemed apt. Now, when I address him either in text or
in conversation it’s ‘General’ or ‘Captain.’
Today, I
decided to investigate the name. Etymology. Historically, it meant
'commander of a good army.' 'Ef' means 'good' and 'stratos' is 'army.'
General’ is a decent enough equivalent. Stratos 'moved' to 'strategy.'
Makes chess sense as well. But Grivas? Well, apparently it
is from Slavic languages and it means 'the mane of a horse'. Apparently
one of his ancestors was a big warrior who was feared.
He’s had his battles. On and off
the chess board. His exploits in chess are well documented and include
dozens of medals in world events. He has represented Greece in
international competitions no less than a staggering 186 times and he’s
competed in eight Chess Olympiads between 1982 and 1999.
General Grivas has not played much competitive chess in decades but he’s spent all that time honing the competitiveness of hundreds of thousands of chess players. He holds top coaching credentials in the world body for chess, FIDE, and has coached dozens of top grandmasters. He’s a champion-generating machine and that has a lot to do with his knowledge, his ‘generalship’ and being a ‘stern one’ long before the ‘greyness’ arrived and through the passing years. He has coached and he has helped people self-learn through over 130 published chess books and other educational material which have been translated into nine languages. There’s even a chess opening in his name, the Grivas Sicilian variation.
So he’s won medals for his playing and awards for training and leadership. He would shrug these off with a characteristic wave of the hand and a laugh. Yes, General Grivas can laugh and can make people laugh. But I’ve seen him being stern. When he has to. Decades of teaching has probably given him an array of training techniques he can draw from to get his players to be the best they can be. He can instill fear but also obtained respect for he ensures that at the end of a session self-confidence is left intact or strengthened.
Battles
off the 64 squares are for anecdotal articulation. He says things in
passing but only if asked. He has let things go. He lets things stay
'gone.' Wise man.
Last night, outside the Bogishamol Hotel in Samarkand, I listened with fascination as he tossed out examples of things that worked for him and the theories behind certain coaching decisions including team selection and which complement of players should play each round of a team tournament like the Olympiad.
I offered, ‘you keep learning as you teach, don’t you?’
He
didn’t laugh. He was not ‘stern.’ He simply said, ‘Of course; if you
think you know it all, you are finished.’ As a teacher, that is.
It’s not some amazing ‘truth’ that he has chanced upon of course, for the best teachers always know there is more to know than is already known. Not all teachers operate that way. They prefer to display a wizard badge or wear the relevant trappings in words, voice, tone and advertisement.
Grivas, a FIDE Senior Trainer who once served as the Secretary of the FIDE Trainers’ Commission and of the European Chess Trainers’ Commission, has credentials tough to match, but he has in the curriculum vitae of demeanour and conduct that which is rare among teachers. Humility.
It's been 12 years since I first met him. We’ve aged, both of us. He has become a better coach. I can say that because simply by walking through the years I read people better than I did 12 years ago. There’s more grey than before, less hair too. The mind is young. Virile. And he gives the best lessons without reservation.
‘What a teacher!’ That’s what I might have said 12 years ago. ‘What a student!’ That’s what I say today. I know he will laugh if/when he hears/reads this.