Why Fencing is Nothing Like Chess

Fencing has been referred to as "high speed chess." There's even a supplier that calls itself Physical Chess. That's very self-flattering, but fencing is really nothing like chess.

In chess you get to examine the board. In fencing you are immersed in a constant flow of movements, some relevant, some not. In chess what matters is where you put the pieces, not how you put them there. Slam a piece down or set it lightly, its value depends on whether the opponent sees all the implications of its position. The board stands until the next move is made. In fencing a combatant may parry with only enough force to deflect the attack or hard enough to knock the weapon out of the opponent's hand. A fencer may attack directly, or with a beat or bind, to name just a few physical possibilities that are far from the realm of chess.

Chess is based on the combat of armies. Fencing is based on the combat of individuals. An individual in actual combat might sacrifice a finger to deliver a fatal blow to the heart, but that's not the same as sending a division of pawns to slaughter while the cavalry swoops around the other flank. Really, it's not. And in modern sport fencing all wounds are equal.

Fencing is the physical expression of argument. I mean that in the intellectual sense of point and counterpoint. Fencer One offers a thesis in the form of an attack. Fencer Two must decide whether this is a serious proposal or a ploy to slow his thinking.

Fencing is all about pointing out each other's mistakes. While this is like chess, the form of expression is much more immediate and subject to a lot more variables including but not limited to dumb luck and brute force.

The true fencer will know many ways to circumvent the strength of an opponent, but there is no defense against dumb luck.

Fencing involves a lot of timing. Chess really involves very little unless it is artificially injected. I might be totally fooled by my opponent's clever gambit on the fencing strip, only to notice it at the last possible instant and head it off. Ha ha! Eat that, Smartypants! Whereas if I'd boned it on a chess move I would just have to eat it.

Sure, sure, you can keep your finger on the chess piece and take the move back, but in fencing the window of opportunity lasts all the way until the opponent's blade arrives. If you twist cleverly you might even evade it then.

I'm only thinking about this as I pine a little for the simple directness of combat sports in contrast to the dense, convoluted maneuverings of real life. I would really like to have a certain couple of people on the other end of an epee right now.