Hikaru Nakamura: King of the Checkered Frontier

This weekend in San Diego, an 18-year old Japanese-American Chess Champion named Hikaru Nakamura is doing what he does best: defending his 2005 U.S. Championship title by treating Chess like a blood sport. The notoriously aggressive and unforgiving Nakamura broke legendary prodigy (and paranoid madman) Bobby Fischer's Grand Master record by three months, winning the title at the tender age of 15 years and 79 days. This particular whiz kid is more than just a Chess Champ, though. Nakamura, who was born in Osaka, Japan, but moved with his family to the United States at two years old, is the modern embodiment of an American legend. Like the rugged American individualists of yore—the legendary cowboy, the maverick frontiersman—Nakamura plays by his own rules, sticks to his guns, makes no apologies, and most importantly: he works alone. This is because, to put it frankly, he is arguably the best player in America. As he rides his Staunton Wood Knight off into the sunset, he consistently leaves a trail of badly beaten opponents in his wake, but it’s not as romantic as it sounds—reality rarely is. Like so many of the American mavericks who have come before him (and some who exist contemporaneously, like Eustace Conway, a North Carolina man who has lived off the land in authentic frontier style for decades), this kind of rugged American individualism—whether on the chessboard or in the Appalachians—has some serious costs. Still a teenager, Nakamura is burning out. Like Conway, Nakamura is a survivalist who has dedicated his life to being the best, but for what purpose?

There’s inordinately more money to be made in Poker tournaments than there is in Chess, and on the whole, Americans are about as interested in Chess as they are in living off the land. In Russia and Europe, sponsorships abound and Chess champions are veritable stars, but in the U.S. there are no real perks. Other than the love of the game and the desire to be the best, there isn’t a whole lot of incentive. As Americans continue to progress and move forward at ever-increasing speeds, it might be wise to ask what a Chess cowboy like Nakamura, or a modern maverick like Eustace Conway, can tell us about both our past and our future. On the surface, these two men seem to have little in common. If you dig deeper (oh, you know how deep I like to dig) into what their lives and aspirations can tell us about our country’s collective soul, you might find a cautionary tale. There isn’t a whole lot of room or interest in America for rugged individualism, anymore. Conformity is king, and in the past fifty years, our society has become centered on instant gratification and push-button convenience. Both our connection to the land, and our interest in a game that demands patience and focus have dwindled. Eustace Conway and Hikaru Nakamura show us what’s possible when we break out of the mold, take risks and invest in our individuality. But as Nakamura plows through the closing days of the 2006 U.S. Chess Championship this weekend, I can’t help but feel these unique Americans are the last of a dying breed.

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