Checkmate is now inevitable
Over the past few weeks, I’ve been getting a little bit into chess. Why? Well, because the YouTube recommendation algorithm fed me a few videos and I decided I wanted to learn how to play. I assume Big Chess is out there targeting me as a customer, but the joke’s on them, because I don’t have any money to spend.
Anyway, I’ve been playing on a free chess app, mostly against the computer. I usually lose. The feature I really like is the post-game analysis tool. You can go back move-by-move to see what the fancy chess computer thought of your moves. Moved a pawn forward one square? The app derisively labels it: “!? Blunder. Knight to e5 was better.” Half the time I still don’t see exactly why my moves are labeled as such. That’s probably because the computer is looking several turns into the future, and the consequence of my little pawn error was losing a bishop for nothing five moves later.
The ebb and flow of chess, as my puny chess brain understands it, is to find ways to win exchanges and come out the other side having taken better pieces than you lost. Maybe a skirmish costs you a pawn and a bishop, but you were able to capture your opponent’s knight and rook. That’s usually a meaningful win in your favor. Eventually, you assemble an advantage that you can push in order to reach checkmate on your opponent.
In many of the games I’ve lost, I’ve noticed a point in the post-game analysis that the computer labels with “Checkmate is now inevitable.” This is the point where the computer found a sequence of moves that could force checkmate. Even though there might be many turns left, all the computer has to do is follow the sequence of moves, and no matter what I moves I make, the checkmate is still guaranteed.
What’s interesting is that I have never noticed crossing this point-of-no-return. I just see that my pieces are dwindling, and that my king has fewer and fewer places to hide. The computer’s queen puts my king in check, and I’m forced to sacrifice my last rook to stave off checkmate. To me, it seems like buying time to find a miracle, but the computer knows that I cannot truly escape any longer. My ignorance gives me an illusion of free will, but try as I might, I can at most choose the time and location of the coming checkmate. Even though the game, by the rules, isn’t yet over, my loss is assured by cold physics of chess.
Everybody knows that the Rockies are heading into 2021 with a lot of problems. They have gone 97–125 since being swept by the Brewers in the 2018 NLDS. Their .436 winning percentage in that span is second to last in the NL, behind even the rebuilding Giants. The front office has alienated their Hall of Fame-bound third baseman in word and deed, flatly refusing to add a single useful major-leaguer since promising to build around him as part of signing him to a franchise-record contract. Of the fifteen hitters on their 40-man roster, just three have been above-average hitters for their careers. Of the 23 pitchers on their 40-man roster, eight have posted above-average ERAs over their careers. The Dodgers will surely find another Max Muncy in the couch cushions, and the Padres are on the verge of making more bold win-now moves in two days than the Rockies have made in 20 years. The Rockies have self-imposed a salary cap so low that they could not spare the $3 million to keep David Dahl in Denver. There are no reinforcements on the way, from within or without.
The only “interesting” conversations about the Rockies are on the topic of whether they can or should trade Nolan Arenado, Trevor Story, Jon Gray, or even German Marquez. Even within Team Rebuild, there are debates on whether the Rockies should hold out for top prospects in a Nolan deal, or if they will end up having to eat salary just to get a AAAA utility prospect in return. I don’t think anyone, perhaps besides the Rockies themselves, is fooling themselves about the situation, but it bears repeating that we are, at best, choosing the time and place of the inevitable checkmate. The Rockies aren’t going to win a World Series with Nolan, and even a playoff appearance in the near future strains credulity. The current core will likely find their way out of Denver in coming years, and the current era of Rockies baseball will officially end.
At what point did checkmate become inevitable? Was it when Bridich signed Ian Desmond to play first base? When he spent $106m to get three suddenly and stunningly bad relievers? Was it an accumulation of poor drafting, or was it due to a conspicuous lack of win-now acquisitions? I don’t know, and unlike with chess, there’s probably not a way to know even with hindsight. However, at some point, the Rockies maneuvered themselves into a position so compromised that even a core of home-grown All-Stars could not salvage it.
As a fan, I’m left wondering what to do. Unlike with chess, the rules of baseball do not permit a team to forfeit prior to checkmate. There’s a lot of ugly baseball left to watch if I want to figure out how the story ends. The Rockies have held my attention for a decade, and it’s difficult to imagine just forgetting about them. Besides, I don’t think fandom is a rational choice, something to be discarded when the projected enjoyment is negative. For better or for worse, part of the way I engage with life is through Rockies baseball.
Even though the checkmate is inevitable, I still hope the Rockies pretend to be contenders long enough to see Nolan fill up another highlight reel. While trading Trevor Story could probably accelerate the unavoidable rebuild, I would rather enjoy watching another 30 home-run season for its own sake. During 2020's shared isolation, the online community that I share with you has been a positive thing for me. I still want to be a part of that. When losing is inevitable, what’s left is to find something other than winning to enjoy.
