Go with the Flow

by Cho Hunhyun

  Master Shuko had a singular reputation that was second to none. If Master Segoe was ascetic, Master Shuko was eccentric that he earned the nickname, ‘Shuko, the monster.’ Unlike the ordinary people whose manner was civil and polite, Master Shuko did not hesitate to behave in unconventional ways. He was also candid and an open-book. He was someone who had flaws but he was irresistibly adorable. Master Shuko used to visit China with members of his study group in the 1980s. On one occasion, he was invited to a banquet hosted by Deng Xiaoping, the late leader of China. The banquet was interrupted when Master Shuko got drunk and became too loud. If the source of fuss had been someone else, that individual would have been in a big trouble, but Master Shuko had the ability to make people fall in love with him and forgive his rough edges.

  Master Shuko was a man who had the charming naivety and the free spirit of a child. He has so much love in him. He drank like a fish and loved women as much as he loved those who were his junior. He loved gambling as much as he loved playing Go. Master Shuko treated those who were his junior like his peers. He never let his authority as an established professional player to come between him and the younger players. His affection for the talented players did not know national boundaries. He cared for Korean players like Cho Chikun and myself, as well as Chinese players like Nie Weiping.

  In the 1989 Ing Cup, Master Shuko, Nie Weiping, Rin Kaiho, and myself- a.k.a. Shuko’s entourage, advanced into the semifinals. It was amazing that Master Shuko made it to the semifinals considering that he was over 60 back then. But what was even more unbelievable was the level of his tranquility and confidence. Before the semifinals, I heard Master Shuko saying, “Cho Hunhyun is the best in the world. The Ing Cup is going to be his. I might meet him at the finals though.”

  Master Shuko had the sense of humor to self-praise by praising me.

  Master Shuko also cared about Changho because he thought of Changho as his ‘grand-student’ since Changho was my student. Master Shuko wrote a letter to Changho when the Korean team won the 1994 Jinro Championship Cup. Changho was the captain of the Korean team. Master Shuko started by congratulating Changho on the achievement and went on to remind Changho about his philosophy of the game and the virtues that befits the best player in the world. Master Shuko’s letter was filled with warmth and affection for his ‘grand-student.’

  “I was very much impressed by Cho Hunhyun, who was just a little boy back then. I believed that he might be the most talented Go player in the whole world. When you defeated Cho Hunhyun, Mother Nature was probably taking its own course, but I was sad thinking that even the best could not defy Mother Nature. For one reason or another, I was looking forward to playing a game with you, and that wish came true at the Fujistu Cup in April. You won but I was not quite happy with your style. I did not like how you played the game one bit. It may be something you need to work on. You play like a professional but with no emotions. Your game is barely inspiring. The game of Go is not just a sport that one needs to win; it is a form of art, just like music or painting, with which one expresses one’s unique individuality. In order for it to be a work of art, it needs to have a creative and unique aspect that can speak to us. Go is not just about winning. More importantly, it is about expressing oneself. A world champion owes that much to the game. Keep working hard because I will do my best to train young Japanese players so they could beat you.”

  Lee Changho was deeply moved by Master Shuko’s letter that he included the full text of the letter in his autobiography, “Greed for Victory Takes It Away.” It was Changho’s way of expressing his will to follow Master Shuko’s words.

  Master Shuko’s indomitable will earned him the nickname, ‘monster.’ He led an undeterred freewheeling life. He was a freeman who indulged himself in drinking and having affairs with the ladies. He also ran through his fortune betting on horse racing as well as bicycle race. But he always managed to get back on his feet again. He had an invincible spirit. Master Shuko was between a rock and debt when he was playing in the 2nd Kisei Title Match. Before he headed for the play room, he found a tree suitable to hang himself. Master Shuko made one move after 2 hours 57 minutes and he succeeded in catching his opponent’s big stone group and finished off the game. It was his second victory in that match. Master Shuko defended the Kisei Title by winning two more rounds afterwards. He had an unbroken string of victories to the 7th Kisei Title Match that he paid off his remaining debts.

  Master Shuko suffered from three different types of cancers that included malignant lymphoma and prostate cancer after he went through gastrectomy to treat gastric cancer in his late 50s. Yet, he never stopped teaching, drinking, and marring and divorcing quite a number of wives. In 1992, Master Shuko won the 40th Oza Title Match at the age of 67. He will probably go down in the history of Japanese Go as the oldest winner of a championship title and I have a feeling that the record will not be rewritten any soon.

  Master Shuko died of pneumonia in 2009. One month before his death, he was still running his study group and was welcoming anyone to the group who was interested in Go. Master Shuko’s students from Korea, China, and Japan gathered at his funeral to mourn and to pay tribute to him. We remembered how he did not spare a penny for whomever he was fond of. He was a man of big heart who happily did others’ favors. He deeply cared about the talented young players. He drank as much as he pleased and slept rough whenever he was not sober enough to find his way back home. That was who Master Shuko Fujisawa was.

  Master Shuko’s real name was Hideyuki Fujisawa. In fact, only the heir to the Honinbo House was allowed to use “Shu” in their name. Master Shuko was not an heir to the Honinbo House, but his students began to call him ‘Shuko’ out of respect and affection for him, and the Japan Go Association agreed to acknowledge ‘Shuko Fujisawa’ as his official name.

  Even now, when I think of Master Shuko, I remember him as a giver. He had a big heart that could embrace hundreds of students including myself. He was always brimming with abundant love. The world might remember him as the player who lived a tumultuous life, but I remember him as the man who was madly in love with the world.

  How many people is my heart capable of holding? Am I capable of falling madly in love with the world? No matter how hard I try, I may never be able to follow in his footsteps. I only wish I could offer my best to others, just as he offered me his everything. Today, I shall continue my open-minded and open-hearted endeavors.

  Chapter 8

  Train the Body for the Mind

  Youth is a blessing. It is what makes the young great. The dilemma, however, is that it does not last forever.

  Goodbye, Rose

  I used to be a heavy smoker a long time ago. Every day, I smoked four to five packs on average, which means I was always lighting up cigarettes when I was awake. I preferred the brand, ‘Jangmi,’ which meant ‘rose’ in Korean. Rose was a cheap slim cigarette, one of the mildest out there in the market back then. But, no matter how mild it was, cigarette is still cigarette. It must have done more harm than good to any chain smoker.

  Unlike today, playing Go professionally meant taking up smoking in the old days. I cannot remember when and how I began to play Go, but I do remember that I was always surrounded by cigarette smoke. My father used to play Go on the second floor of this building which was always thick with cigarette smoke. The first Go club that my father took me to, the one in the city of Mokpo, was no exception. I could smell the stale odor of the cigarette smoke as soon as I stepped into the club. As the only boy in the club, I became in charge of buying cigarettes for the grown-ups. In my defense, it was natural for me to pick up a cigarette as soon as I turned into an adult because I grew up watching grown-ups smoke in the club. Smoking seemed part of being an adult.

  For my wife, Mihwa, having a chain-smoking husband was something she just had to live with, the fate of a professional Go player’s wife, so to speak. Worrying for my health or nagging me to quit smoking was not something the wife of a professional Go player could
afford to do. The usual four to five packs a day became five to six, or even seven packs a day when I was competing. Mihwa would then, open the windows to let fresh air in and she would be constantly going in and out of my room to empty the ashtray. Instead of nagging me to cut down on cigarettes, Mihwa used to order dozens of boxes of Jangmi- each box containing 10,000 cigarettes- and store them in the basement.

  Heavy smoking took its toll on me. I came down with a cold accompanied by swollen tonsils every time I was about to have an important competition. I began to suspect that it had something to do with smoking but it never occurred to me that I had to quit smoking. Smoking had become part of my life and I could not give it up until one day I was forced to make up my mind about it. It was in the mid-1990s when I paid a visit to my long-time friend, Jimmy in the U.S. I had said ‘hi’ to Jimmy who came to pick me up at the airport and I was just about to light a cigarette as I got into his car.

  “No smoking in my car!” Jimmy blurted out and I could see that he was serious.

  I put away my cigarette but I was furious inside. I had to fight my cravings for tobacco during the entire flight to the U.S. and I realized I was not getting one any soon. Jimmy’s car was not the only smoke-free zone. I found the ‘no smoking’ sign wherever I went- restaurants, shopping malls, banks, and gas stations. People gave me the dirty look even in parking lots. Worse, I got stared at as if I were committing a serious crime if there happened to be kids around when I was smoking.

  “Where on earth am I allowed to smoke?”

  I exploded in anger.

  “Well, you can quit smoking,” said Jimmy.

  In a fit of rage, I took out the pack of cigarettes from my pocket, crumbled it, and tossed it into a trash can.

  “I would rather quit than to have people make me feel guilty about smoking my own cigarette!”

  That was how I came about to quit smoking. I was already half way through giving up smoking entirely when I came back to Korea. Mihwa was excited than anybody else. She was more than happy to throw away all the cigarette boxes that were stored in the basement. My children were happy too because they no longer had to put up with the smell of tobacco. And strange things began to happen.

  I got my appetite back. I have always had a poor appetite so it was not unusual for me to not be able to finish a bowl of rice. But, not only did I finish my bowl of rice, I asked for more after I quit smoking. My craving did not end with a bowl of rice. I had never eaten anything between meals before but I started to snack and I could not help wanting more of everything. I finished a plateful dried anchovy Mihwa gave me for a light snack. I even cleaned the plate that was full of cookies for kids. Mihwa started to get busy to fill my stomach. She made me old school Korean snacks and beverages, such as the yakgwa (honey cookie), yugwa (deep-fried sweet rice puff), gangjeong (fried sticky rice crackers with nuts), yeot (hard taffy Korean-style), sikhye (sweet rice punch), and sujeonggwa (cinnamon punch). They were all delicious and it was only then that I realized what a great cook she was.

  I began to see improvements in my appearance, too. When I was smoking, I was a mere walking skeleton, so skin-and-bones that my frame accentuated the cheekbones. My skin looked dark and dull, too. After I quit smoking, I started to put on weight which softened my facial contour. My skin tone became lighter and brighter. I was surprised when I got on the scale. I had added 10kg in a short time. People saw my transformation when I showed up at competitions and I became the talk of the town. Cho Hunhyun gave up smoking! Smoking was his middle name! There were rampant speculations over why I decided to give up smoking. It was rumored that I had given up on smoking to gain greater self-control in order to perform better. Some major newspapers even covered my story writing headlines such as, ‘The Fighter’s Firm Resolution,’ and ‘Turning Over a New Leaf: Cho Hunhyun Quits Smoking.’ It was probably a coincidence that I happened to quit smoking around the time I had lost my Guksu Title to Changho for the second time around. It was the perfect timing for the media to make the connection between the two events so I did not see any point in trying to correct them.

  Anyway, quitting smoking actually helped me play better. There had been remarkable improvement in my physical strength. I have had to lean back in a chair from a stiff neck, shoulders, and back to get through a round of game, not to mention lose concentration half-way through the game. But I felt comfortable the entire time I was playing a game after I quit smoking. So I came to admit that age was not the sole cause of my ever-weakening endurance. I had been torturing my body by feeding it all kinds of bad chemicals. Once the poisonous substances that had been accumulating in my system for the past two decades disappeared, I started to feel lighter, I could concentrate better, and I was more relaxed at competitions.

  Quitting smoking was not something I had planned on but its benefits had changed me physically and mentally, as well as how I played games. Giving up smoking had also become the trend. Not long after I stopped smoking, a movement started within the Go community in Korea to make rooms used for competitions smoke-free. With the average age of those passing the Professional Qualification Tournament getting younger, more people were arguing for prohibiting smoking altogether while playing Go. Even highly-revered 9P players were not to be exempted from the non-smoking rule because of the consensus that smoking could cause grave danger to the health of young players if they are exposed to second-hand smoking. For a while when the change was being introduced, the rooms used for the preliminary rounds were divided into smoking and non-smoking rooms. It worked when both of the players were either smokers or non-smokers but the problem arose when a smoker and a non-smoker played against each other. If the game was held in the smoking room, the non-smoker suffered from cigarette smoke. On the other hand, the challenge for a smoker in the non-smoking room was to bring his craving for a cigarette under control, which was deemed the right thing to do as well as less painful than having a non-smoker endure the cigarette smoke in the smoking room.

  In 1999, The Korea Baduk Association decided that all rooms used for competitions were to be smoke-free zones. Today, no one is allowed to smoke in the competition rooms anymore. On rare occasions, a player or two may quietly step out in the hallway for a quick smoke. Go clubs in suburban areas have a designated smoking room. A Go club that is filled with cigarette smoke has become a thing of past. Sometimes with the smell of a whiff of cigarette, old memories of the Go club would rush back, making me feel nostalgia about the good old days. Don’t get me wrong, it is not the cigarette that I miss because I even shake my head sideways in disapproval, wondering how I did wrong to myself, inhaling bad chemicals into my own body.

  Immediately after I quit smoking, I found myself competing more frequently and winning back the LG Cup World Baduk Championship, the Paewang Title Match, and the BC Card Cup World Baduk Championship. People said giving up smoking made all of that possible. But I believe that breakthrough had more to do with regaining my physical and mental health than quitting smoking.

  Go: The Sad but Hopeful Drama

  The level of my endurance was at par with younger players until I reached 45. But I seemed to have hit my limit in 2001 when I was playing in the Wangwi Title Match. I got off to a quick start winning five games in a row. But I ended up losing by half a point to Seo Bongsoo 9P because I mixed up the compensation rule of the Wangwi Title Match with that of another tournament. It was entirely my fault. I should have checked the rules of the Wangwi Title Match because they were different for every competition. As a result, I had to play extra rounds to break the tie with Bongsoo. Things could not have been worse when the preliminary rounds of the Fujitsu Cup World Go Championship fell right on the same time. I spent 10 days playing 6 games in both tournaments. I advanced into the final by a narrow margin as the contender of the Wangwi Title but I knew I did not have any energy left to stay in the game. Regrettably, I did not make it to the first round of the finals held in Haenam. I was confined to my sick bed, suffering from high fever and complete exhau
stion. Changho, who was defending the title, was at a loss of words when I withdrew from the tournament, making him the winner without having to lift a finger. I believe I was the first and the last contender in the history of Korean Go to give up and thereby lose. I did manage to get out of bed but I had not fully recovered yet. I did not get to finish the second and the third rounds, which were held few days apart, because I resigned in the middle of the game. I got as far as the 75th move in the third round until I decided to give up. This game became the quickest defeat in the history of a contending match.

  I was playing against Yoo Changhyuk 9P in the finals of the 6th LG Cup World Baduk Championship in 2002. Changhyuk had just returned from a tournament held in Japan and he seemed to be exhausted. He never got around to start a momentum and he expressed his resignation. I thought it had to do with his age because he was almost 40. Suddenly, I came down with the flu on the following day and I got extremely sick. I lost the fourth and the fifth rounds to Changhyuk and finished second in the tournament.

  So that is how it feels to be old. In my youth, I was able to keep up with the tight and hectic competition schedules while chainsmoking but it was not the case anymore. If I overstretched myself, I got sick and had to stay in bed for days. I also made mistakes that I never made when I was young. For example, I thought I was making a counterattack but realized that I was making the wrong move all along. Sometimes I miscalculated the scores which made me assume I was winning when in fact I ended up losing. The images of the sequences that used to come to my mind crystal-clear were now blurred and distorted making me fumble with the stones and creating a mass on the board. These strange symptoms seemed to be the outcome of aging and weakening strength.