It was like in Borislav Ivkov's games. Relatively good start, than mistake, long struggling, than glimpse of hope, even a chance for win, and then disaster in zeitnot.
I lost. It hurts. There is no help. It hurts.
I was in bad position, but eventually I could win, but didn't see bad news coming.
Here's how it was.
On this tournament, I always spend first half an hour to calm myself down, waiting that running kids (if they had let fighting dogs on the players, it would have been better), for chatting spectators to finish their meaningless waffling and blu-blubling. I wait that players get their seats and stop pushing my chair.
Today I got an impression that I was only player who wasn’t crackling with my or others empty chair, who wasn’t coughing or sneezing, who wasn’t chatting with someone, who didn’t make noise of what so ever kind. I was only one healthy today on Thomas Mann’s Magic Mountain. Ha? Physically at least.
VII round, me white
Irkovic de Eserbia vs. Caron, Demian d’France