Coach
A real case · you decide
Sunder and the fork
Sunder — a student who wins one piece at a time and never enough
Your knight can leap to a square that hits BOTH the enemy king and an undefended rook at the same time. The king must move — and then the rook is simply there for the taking.
A fork attacks two targets with one move. The opponent can save only one; the other is yours. The strongest forks include a CHECK, because a check must be answered — it removes any chance for the opponent to defend the second target instead.
The knight is the great forker: it jumps, so nothing can block its double attack, and the two things it hits often can't defend each other.
Your knight can fork the king and the rook, or grab a loose pawn elsewhere. What do you play?
A fork isn't a lucky double — it's the move you play when one square attacks two things that can't both run.
A real case · you decide
Fasten sets the pin
Fasten — a student who lets defenders do their job and wonders why nothing cracks
A knight is guarding the square you want to break into — but directly behind that knight, on the same line, sits the enemy king. Your bishop rakes that whole diagonal.
A pin nails a piece in place: it cannot legally move, because moving it would expose the more valuable piece behind it (against the king, moving is outright illegal). A pinned defender is a defender that isn't defending anything anymore.
The knight defends your target square, but the king is right behind it on your bishop's diagonal. What now?
You don't always remove a defender. Sometimes you just fasten it to the wall and walk past it.
A real case · you decide
Pierce drives the skewer
Pierce — a student who sees pins but never their reverse
The enemy king and queen sit on the same open line, king in FRONT. Your rook can hit the line with check.
A skewer is a pin turned around: the MORE valuable piece is in front. You attack it (often with check), it is forced to move out of the way, and the less valuable piece lined up behind it is captured.
King in front, queen behind, both on your rook's line. What is the move?
Line up two pieces and hit the front one with a check: the shield is forced to step aside, and what it was hiding is yours.
A real case · you decide
Unveil the discovery
Unveil — a student who moves one piece at a time and never both at once
Your bishop stands directly between your own rook and the enemy queen. If the bishop moves, the rook's attack on the queen is suddenly live — and the bishop itself could land on a square that gives check.
A discovered attack fires TWO attacks with one move: the piece that moves makes its own threat, and by stepping aside it uncovers a second piece's attack behind it. A DISCOVERED CHECK is the sharpest form — the opponent must answer the check, so they cannot save the piece the rear piece is attacking.
Your bishop blocks your rook's line to the queen. Where does the bishop go?
The strongest attacker is sometimes the piece that gets out of the way.
A real case · you decide
Bastion guards the back rank
Bastion — a student whose king is boxed in by its own pawns and never notices
The enemy king sits on its back rank, hemmed in by its own three unmoved pawns in front of it. Your rook can reach that rank with check.
A king on its back rank with a wall of its own pawns in front has no escape squares. A single major piece delivering check along that rank is CHECKMATE — the king can't move up (its pawns block it) and can't move along (the checking piece covers it). The same danger is on YOUR board: the antidote is LUFT — nudging a pawn early to give your king an escape hole.
Their king is walled in on the back rank and your rook can check it there. What do you do?
Look at the back rank before anything else — many games end not with a grand attack but with a king that forgot to make itself a door.
A real case · you decide
Compel forces the move
Compel — a student who keeps checking in the endgame and lets the win slip
The endgame is nearly won: the enemy pieces are all as good as they will ever be, and yours are perfectly placed. It is the opponent's turn — and every legal move they have makes their position worse.
In zugzwang the obligation to MOVE is itself the problem: the opponent would love to pass, but chess forbids passing. Every move they have loosens a pawn, abandons a square, or lets your king in. The winning idea is not to attack — it is to hand them the move and let their own pieces betray them.
Every enemy move worsens their game, and it's their turn. What do you play?
Sometimes you don't beat the opponent's pieces — you simply make it their turn.
A real case · you decide
Standfast takes the opposition
Standfast — a student who has an extra pawn in the endgame but can never promote it
King and pawn versus king. The two kings stand facing each other with exactly one square between them, and it is the OPPONENT's move. Your pawn waits behind your king.
The opposition is the endgame's quiet duel: when the kings face off with one square between them and it is the OTHER king's move, that king must step aside and let yours advance — you "have the opposition." Winning the key squares in front of your pawn, not just pushing it, is what escorts a pawn to promotion.
Kings face off, one square apart, opponent to move. How do you make progress?
In the bare endgame the kings decide it: hold the opposition and the enemy king has to open the door you were waiting on.
A real case · you decide
Curb plays prophylaxis
Curb — a student who always chases their own plan and gets hit by the opponent’s
Your attack on the queenside is one move from breaking through. But look at the other wing: the opponent is one move from a strong pawn break that would blow your own king's cover wide open.
Prophylaxis means asking "what does my opponent WANT to play?" and taking it away before you push your own plan. A move that quietly kills the opponent's best idea is often worth more than one more step of your own attack — because an attack means nothing if their counter-attack lands first.
Your break is ready, but so is theirs. What do you play?
The strongest players spend half their thinking on the opponent's plan — a move that never lets it happen is quietly the best move on the board.