Go with the Flow

by Cho Hunhyun

  In this respect, winning the Ing Cup may be attributable to the fighting spirit I had shown at the competition. But, in fact, I was not brimming with confidence from the beginning because I did not think I stood a chance to win with any of the players. But I kept talking to myself that there was always a chance to win if I played at my best without making any mistakes. All I needed to do was to play my own game and be in control of it, and I expected my opponent would do the same.

  I learned how powerful self-confidence could be while going through the quarterfinals of the Ing Cup, playing against with Kobayashi who had inflicted a humiliating defeat on me in the first round of the Fujistu Cup World Go Championship a few months earlier. The defeat in the Fujitsu Cup was even more painful because all three Korean Go players including myself lost in the first round. Even the media prematurely concluded that Korea still had a long way to go.

  But the experience of that bitter first round gave me just enough confidence to think that the next game would be worth a try. Sure, the Japanese and the Korean Go players played at different levels, but the gap was not something insurmountable. We could have stayed longer in the tournament if it weren’t for the few careless mistakes and miscalculation of the moves. We could have even won some rounds. Perhaps what we really needed was experience and confidence. So I decided to have faith in my Go skill when I met Kobayashi in the quarterfinal of the Ing Cup. I thought I had a chance to beat even a high-profile player like Kobayashi if I could just relax and stay focused.

  Kobayashi was an extremely tough opponent. Even now, my brain is on the verge of imploding thinking of that game I played against him. But I realized that trusting myself helped me to bear the countless tense moments in that game. Half-way through, I made a single mistake that almost jeopardized the entire game but I hung on until the perfect moment to strike back came. And when it did, I launched a series of bold attacks towards the end of the game because I knew I had nothing to lose. Perhaps Kobayashi was startled by my guts? Kobayashi seemed apprehensive and started to retreat…and I felt it.

  When the board was covered with the stones and the counting of the scores was finally over, everyone could not believe their eyes. Everybody assumed that I was losing. But when the scores were counted using the Ing Cup rule, the result said otherwise. I won and I moved on to the semifinal. The victory tasted sweeter than ever because Kobayashi was not easy. And I felt more confident about myself.

  Riding on the momentum, I faced Rin Kaiho, a.k.a. ‘double waists’, in the semifinal. Rin Kaiho earned his nickname from his tenacious style. Rin Kaiho was famous for building thick stone groups that could not be halved with a single swing of a sword. His move is seemingly slow and dull, but actually well-informed and exhaustive, leaving little chance to make a mistake. Knowing that prolonged game would reduce my chance to win, I tried to lead the game with speed and a nonstop blitz.

  Who said that his Go was dull? Rin Kaiho was a cold-hearted master swordsman. One deep stab was painful enough to lose consciousness. What appeared like a peaceful game was in fact a bloody battle of fatal attacks and desperate defenses. I tried to stay focused and to be in control of myself. I bombarded him with as many attacks I could come up with. Final tally confirmed my victory by five points.

  I continued on to the finals. I won the first round but lost the next two rounds to Nie Weiping. I knew that nothing was conclusive at that point. I still had two more rounds to go and I believed there was a fair chance to win if I was able to be myself no matter how he played. I think Nie Weiping felt my determination. He must have wondered how a no-name Go player from nowhere like me could be so dauntless in the presence of the emperor of Go like himself, who has a track record of crushing so many big names. Confused and distressed, Nie Weiping could have felt too much pressure that he decided to throw his stone and resign. It all came down to who was more valiant and unshaken, rather than who played better, that ultimately determined the winner. The trophy of the champion went to the one who did not break under pressure.

  In sports, in general, spectators are able to tell which team has the drive to win. The moment the spectators catch that energy, the game quickly turns around in that team’s favor. Such turnaround is commonly referred to as the ‘flow of the game’, but I like to call it ‘riding on the ascending current.’ The impact of displaying high spirit is so powerful that athletes do so on purpose during a game to intimidate the other side. In combat sports, fighters throw their fists in the air and grunt as loud as they can, or tennis players exert a guttural grunt with each serve. Grunting in sports can have the effect of overwhelming the opponent. The more conspicuous the display of confidence is, the stronger the whirlwind grows, which can be a build-up to victory.

  In the everyday life, every move must be made with confidence; all the more so, if one is at a critical juncture. Confident facial expression or posture can bring positive energy. Anyone who has experienced it will understand what I am talking about. It is truly amazing. Self-confidence partly stems from hypnotizing oneself to feel confident. It is also a healthy narcissism. Keep repeating the magic mantra every day; “I can do it. I am no less than others.” If it helps, get dressed in the best outfit and groom yourself. I find myself walking in lighter steps, with my shoulders back, and head high in a white dress shirt and colorful necktie that my children gave me as gifts. So in a funny way, confidence can be purchased at the mall.

  Above all, create as many opportunities to build confidence as possible; take tests, go out and network, do presentations in front of a large audience. Take on more challenging and unfamiliar tasks. These help to work in smarter and skillful ways. Making silly mistakes or being criticized for things that go wrong can be discouraging but are part of the journey. Each experience is a build-up to opportunities to become successful and more confident. Losing is a prerequisite to win. Only those who are not afraid of being defeated will have the opportunity to win.

  Never be intimidated by anyone under any circumstances. Keep shoulders back and let out a loud grunt. Victory is already in your hands.

  Chapter 4

  Go with the Flow

  The game is over the moment those two stones are placed on the board. But, resignation means lost opportunities… and lost possibilities. So one must not end the game, just not yet.

  Right Here, Right Now

  I encountered a language barrier in my own country, Korea, when I returned from Japan. 9 years in Japan was more than enough to almost completely forget my mother tongue. I managed to remember a few words like ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ but forgot the words for ‘older sister’ and ‘younger brother’ in Korean. It took me a while even to recall simple words like ‘water.’ I had no problem communicating with my parents because they spoke Japanese, but I had problem getting by outside the house.

  Those at the Go club– older than me or around the same age looked at me with curious eyes as I could not understand even simple words. Some of them were mischievous enough to approach me under the pretense of helping me learn Korean, but instead taught me inappropriate words on purpose to get me into trouble. People burst out laughing at my mistakes and my feelings were hurt. I gradually became tight-lipped and often had a long face. I had always been an outgoing and social person, but found myself retrieving ever since I came back to Korea. I always wore a big smile in the photos taken while studying in Japan unlike the ones taken in Korea. I rarely smiled in those.

  Language barrier was not the only problem I encountered. The Go clubs in Korea were very different from the ones in Japan. In Japan, it was natural to sit down with peers to review moves and talk about strategies at the Go club, whereas in Korea, Go clubs seemed to exist for nothing else but the sole purpose of playing games. At the Korean Go club, I had to ‘sit-and-play’ right away with the first person I made eye contact with and lunch would be on the person who loses. I went to the Go club every day and regularly participated in competitions, but I had a hard time settling down. My game records came out to be not
so impressive. I was waiting to be drafted to the Army to do my mandatory service as a Korean citizen and at the same time feeling uprooted and replanted in a completely different world. I was still between Japan and Korea.

  Everyone in Japan strictly observed good manners when playing Go. It was no exception even when we played quick games. No one looked down at me or treated me like a child during games in Japan because I was young. Rather, I was treated with respect for studying under the ‘great’ Kensaku Segoe. Politicians, high-ranking officers, and businessmen who visited Master Segoe’s house kneeled down and bowed at me according to the etiquettes of Japanese Go, saying “Sensei Cho, please allow me to join you for a game of Go,” when they wished to play with me.

  I was humbled to be respected in such a way by gentlemen who were my senior in age. They took the culture of courtesy built around Go seriously and I believed in it. I reciprocated as I was taught in that culture, by accepting their request with modesty and mutual respect. Their politeness was not supposed to make me feel elated or ignite a sense of arrogance in me. The virtual circle of courtesy in the game of Go is nurtured in such a way.

  I was confused when I shifted to a different culture in Korea. Wherever I went, people asked how old I was. They were very quick to treat me like a child when they learned I was only nineteen. I had to be conscious of other people’s age, too, to properly address them according to seniority. I had to learn the delicate difference between appellations for formal and informal hierarchal interpersonal relationships. For example, how to address someone my senior as a ‘big brother,’ ‘sunbae, ’ ‘Mister.’ Sometimes, I had to deal with the rich and well-connected people who swung by the Go club and called me out loud, as if they were hailing a cab. “Hey, Cho! Come here and play a game with me.”

  Kim In sunbae, who was my senior at the Go club, came to my rescue. Kim In sunbae was the man who opened a new era in the history of Korean Go. He loved to drink and was a skilled calligrapher. Kim In sunbae considered the game of Go to be a form of art. And he had the soul of an artist. Kim In sunbae was obsessed with the quality of the games he played. He never hesitated to resign if he was not on top of his game, even if he had the upper hand. I never mentioned a word to Kim In sunbae but he knew exactly what I was going through. Kim In sunbae himself had studied for 2 years at the legendary Minoru Kitani School before I did and we came from the same region in Korea. Having a common background, perhaps he felt a sense of brotherhood. He took me out for a drink, or to climb the mountain, to help me put things into perspective.

  “It is true that the Japanese Go puts more emphasis on the pursuit of self-enlightenment and practicing courtesy while the Korean Go looks more or less like a battlefield. Neither is wrong, nor better than the other. They are just different. When in Japan, you accepted the Japanese practices. Likewise, embrace the Korean approach when in Korea.”

  Kim In sunbae added that the disorderly battlefield style may be the fast track for Korean Go to become competitive.

  He was right. A decade later, Korean Go had advanced to top ranks in the world whereas the Japanese Go had been on a downhill. Korea’s battlefield approach had succeeded in establishing a great system of promoting healthy competition among players while Japan remained obsessed with formalities. Kim In sunbae was convincing and I stopped pushing away people who wanted to play Go with me.

  In retrospect, he was right about the cultural differences between the Korean and Japanese Go. It was natural to ask one’s age in Korea because of the social and cultural practice of respecting those who are one’s senior even if there is only a few months difference in age. Having once studied under Master Segoe did not mean anything in the social hierarchy in Korea. I was a 19-year-old young adult. Over time, I became fond of betting lunch over Go games and used it to work on skills that I can actually apply at competitions.

  Master Shuko Fujisawa, who deeply cared about me, was very sad when I left Japan. He described my departure as abandoning the fertile soil for a barren land. He lamented that I, a diamond in the rough, was never going to get a chance to be cut, polished and discovered in Korea. I believe, however, that the wilderness full of savage dogs turned out to be the best training environment for me. Master Fujisawa was happier than anyone else when I won the Ing Cup and ever since then, he became a big fan of Korean Go.

  We are inclined to look for alternatives when we are dissatisfied with where we are today. I have learned, however, the importance of where we are right now. Blaming our unhappiness on the environment will change nothing. If we are dissatisfied, we have the choice of working hard to make changes and make a difference.

  The only thing that should be on the mind when playing Go is where to play. One must concentrate all the mental strength to figure out the positions on the game board. In real life, likewise, one must appreciate the present. Be in the moment because it will never come back again. Every dream begins ‘right here, right now.’

  Outside In

  There is a saying among Go players that one has the advantage by eight points from looking at the game outside in. A spectator is able to see eight moves ahead and have a bird’s eye view of the game than the players themselves. It is often the case that the players are obsessed with winning the game, so much so that they are unable to have an accurate reading of the game and miss the opportunity to win. Believing to be at a disadvantage, one may choose to avoid placing the stones on certain positions to play safe during the game, not realizing that one is actually ahead of the opponent. The lesson here is that being too immersed in the game one misses the chance to make the move that could have led to defeating the opponent. “How did I miss it?” The realization may arrive too late.

  In real life, as one minds one’s own business, one is inclined to exaggerate one’s problems and unhappiness. One wonders why everyone else has an affluent upbringing, is good looking, articulate, and social? Everyone around seems to be able to afford a house and a car at such a young age when one is still struggling to make a breakthrough.

  But others maybe feeling the same way. They may be noticing one’s likeable character, well-paid job, and girlfriend who has all the desirable qualities with a hint of jealousy. One’s life appears to be going well from a distance.

  That is life. Life seems to be unfair at first glance, but in relative terms, it is fair. Everyone wants more and is envious of the achievements of others. But how many people are actually capable of turning jealousy and envy into setting goals and achieving them? Most people do not go any further than complaining. But the brave ones jump over that wall to climb to the top. They choose to become someone who is no longer envious of others.

  Cha Minsu, also known as Jimmy Cha, was a professional Go player and a gambler. His life story was so interesting and unique that it was made into a television drama in Korea. I met Minsu at a Go club when I returned from Japan. I was shy, had a hard time talking to strangers, and not so conversant in Korean. On the other hand, Minsu was a charming, confident, and approachable young man with a great smile, who was able to have a conversation with anyone. When I met Minsu for the first time, he had not yet taken the Professional Qualification Tournament, nevertheless, he was already widely known as the armature player who posed a threat to professional players.

  Minsu and I became close friends while we served in the Air Force together. I was expecting to be drafted for military service soon after I returned to Korea but I had to wait for the conscription office to start the process. When I grew tired of waiting, I volunteered to join the Air Force. My first post was the Seongnam airfield and I was later transferred to the Office of Education and Training at the Air University in Daebang-dong, Seoul. It was at the PX of the university that I ran into Minsu.

  Minsu had already made a name for himself. In only a few months after passing the qualification test to play professional Go, he had already defeated every single officer at the university. I received a special order to beat Minsu as a payback. I was supposed to be the secret weapo
n, but I ended up losing to him by one point. Minsu was good, but what was truly amazing was his powerful energy and high spirit. He was 1P and I, 6P, but he did not feel intimidated at all by my rank. Ever since then, Minsu and I played a quick game whenever we met to catch up with each other. Over the course of my military service, I ended up playing about a hundred or more quick games with Minsu. They served as good practice games to prepare me for Go competitions that I participated in during the period of my service.

  I expected Minsu to be a Go sensation as soon as he was discharged from the military, sweeping up the trophies in competitions. He seemed to have the perfect package; he was good looking, came from an affluent family, and was talented in many things. He swam, played table tennis, played the piano and the violin, in addition to playing Go. He had a brilliant mind that was capable of absorbing anything he learned like a dry sponge and easily conquered it. He had everything going for him and the Go board was too small for his passion. To my surprise, Minsu decided to emigrate to the U.S. when he was discharged. He started a new career as a professional gambler in the U.S.

  Years of blood, sweat and tears paid off. Minsu became very successful in professional gambling, earning a whopping annual income of approximately 4 million dollars in his heydays. But Minsu had to go through twists and turns before he became successful. When Minsu was going from strength to strength as a professional gambler, I paid a visit to see him in the U.S. As for me, I had then lost the last championship title I had to Changho.

  Minsu was living a happy life with his wife and children in a magnificent mansion. He was still the confident man that I had always known. One evening, as we were catching up with each other, I saw his eyes turn red. Minsu told me about the story of his first marriage that failed. Minsu lost everything he had to his ex-wife, including the custody of his children, when he got divorced. He came back to Korea destitute that he had to live moving from one shabby inn to another for nearly half a year.