Chess Festival Prague 2026 and ChessBase Magazine #225: When 27 Short Games Become a Classroom

Issue 225 of ChessBase Magazine opens with a claim worth testing: “Special: 27 highly entertaining miniatures.” Twenty-seven short games, all labelled as top-tier entertainment. For someone who has sat behind a chess commentary microphone for thirty-two years, a statement like that is both an invitation and a challenge.

I used to think about short games the way a nostalgic person does. In my era, a game that ended before move twenty-five was usually treated as an accident. It ended before the story could begin. But reading the editorial section of this issue carefully, I realised I was wrong. In modern chess, a short game is no longer an accident. It is a statement.

A chessboard never lies; we only lie to ourselves with the beautiful moves in our heads. That is what I tell myself every time I open a game collection. And Prague 2026 is one such collection.

Context: a festival, a city, a generation

The Chess Festival Prague is not the biggest tournament of the year. It does not have the enormous prize fund of the Champions Chess Tour, nor the media pull of Tata Steel Chess. But it has something many events have lost: continuity and professionalism. The 2026 edition ran in late February and early March at the Hotel Don Giovanni in the Czech capital, a familiar venue for the festival.

The Masters is a round-robin for the world's leading grandmasters. Alongside it are the Challenger for young and rising players, plus open tournaments drawing hundreds of amateurs. For the professional chess follower, Prague offers a rare value: the closest possible view of the super-grandmasters. No studio glass. No cut-away cameras. Spectators sit a few metres from the board, watching Aravindh Chithambaram's finger tap the table, hearing David Navara sigh after a bad move.

That setting makes short games even more striking. In a brutal round-robin where every half-point is worth gold, a loss after twenty moves is no small matter. It is a psychological wound. It is also a lesson — and ChessBase Magazine #225 turns that lesson into training material.

This is my first point: this magazine does not sell you a game. It sells you a way of seeing. The same game can yield two entirely different lessons. One reader memorises an opening line. The other learns how to think.

Twenty-seven short games: the art of sharpness

Twenty-seven is not a random number. In chess publishing, selecting short games is a difficult art. A seventy-move game has a built-in three-act structure: opening, middlegame, endgame. A short game has none of that. It has only one moment — and that moment must stand on its own. Based on my experience covering thousands of games over decades, I would argue a great short game must meet three conditions.

First, it must contain a sharp opening idea, not a blunder. Second, it must feature a memorable sacrifice. Third, it must reach a technical endgame — meaning that even if the game finishes early, the winner must prove a clean technical path. Most of the twenty-seven selected games satisfy all three.

The list spans a wide range of openings. Some Sicilian Defence games end in a tactical storm. Some Italian Game games finish with a ruthless combination. Some French Defence games close with a queen sacrifice — the kind that silences a commentary room for three seconds before applause erupts. And some games require no sacrifice at all, just a sequence of moves so precise it feels cold.

For club players, the value of short games lies in applicability. A seventy-move game can teach you about endgames, but memorising every line takes weeks. A twenty-five-move game is different. You can learn it in an evening. You can try it in your next club game. That is why short games always hold a special place in training magazines.

But here is what I always tell my students: do not study short games to win quickly. Study them to understand the cost of a mistake. Every short game has a loser. And the loser in a short game is usually not a weak player — only someone who made a small error at the wrong moment. That moment, recorded and analysed, is the most valuable lesson.

Four names, four annotating styles

The annotations in issue 225 centre on four figures: Aravindh Chithambaram, Anish Giri, Ediz Gurel and David Navara. Four people, four styles, four generations. Notably, the magazine does not choose them for their names — it chooses them for their ability to explain their own moves.

Aravindh Chithambaram is an Indian grandmaster who has cemented his place among the world's elite in recent years. His style is so calm it can make spectators restless. But in his annotations, Aravindh has a rare gift: he explains the logic behind moves that seem “unnecessary.” For him, every move has a reason, even when that reason is merely psychological pressure. Reading an Aravindh game in a magazine is like reading a carefully drafted contract: the clauses come first, small and quiet, but they decide everything that follows.

Anish Giri is the opposite story. The Dutch grandmaster is famous for his astonishing opening memory and his wit on social media. In his annotations, Giri often poses counter-questions: “Why didn't I play this move?” — then answers himself with a long analysis of the alternatives he considered. This style is invaluable for learners, because it shows a super-grandmaster not only choosing the right move but discarding the wrong ones. Giri turns every annotation into a lesson on decision-making.

Ediz Gurel is the young phenomenon of Turkish chess. He represents a generation born in the computer era, where every player grows up alongside Stockfish and Leela Chess Zero. What is interesting about Gurel is not his calculating power — everyone has that — but his presentation. His annotations are short, direct, unadorned. He explains a move the way an engineer explains a blueprint: this connects to that, and one broken detail ruins the whole system. For those who doubt that the younger generation lacks strategic depth, Gurel is a thought-provoking answer.

David Navara is the most special case. The Czech number one, who has been at the top of national chess for more than two decades, is known for his courtesy and his analysis so deep it can intimidate opponents. Navara's annotations are long, detailed and full of psychological notes. He is unafraid to admit his own mistakes. In a chess culture where image is carefully managed, Navara's honesty is a gift.

Together, these four styles create a multi-dimensional picture. Readers do not just learn moves — they learn four different ways of thinking about the same board.

Opening videos: Werle, King and Ris

Beyond the game annotations, ChessBase Magazine #225 includes an opening video section by three familiar authors: Jan Werle, Daniel King and Robert Ris. For club players, this may be the most valuable part of the issue.

Daniel King needs no introduction. The English grandmaster is famous for his “Power Play” video series on ChessBase, in which he analyses strategic themes with a teaching style so accessible it feels almost intimate. King can turn a complex topic — such as hanging pawn structures, or the placement of heavy pieces — into a story. He never uses overly long variations. He believes in the power of ideas over the power of memory.

Robert Ris is another opening and endgame specialist. This Dutch IM has a talent for analysing popular opening systems at club level — where deep theoretical lines matter less than understanding the right idea. Ris's videos typically target players rated between 1600 and 2200, exactly the group that needs the most practical training.

Jan Werle, also a Dutch grandmaster, focuses on building an opening repertoire. Werle's style is systematic. He does not just teach a line; he teaches a decision tree: if the opponent plays A, you play B; if the opponent plays C, you play D. This approach suits players who want a stable repertoire without memorising hundreds of lines.

Notably, none of the three authors chases the “hot” lines from super-tournaments. They choose systems with high practical applicability, suited to the majority of players. That is the editorial philosophy of ChessBase: serving both professionals and club players.

Ten opening articles and the idea of rebuilding your arsenal

The ten opening articles in issue 225 are, in my view, the strongest section. These are not vague theoretical overviews. Each focuses on a specific system, offers new lines and — most importantly — explains the strategic ideas behind those lines.

For club players, the value lies in selectivity. You do not need to know every system. You need one or two systems per colour, and you need to know them deeply enough to avoid surprises. These ten articles, combined with the opening videos, provide exactly the amount of knowledge needed to refresh your arsenal without overwhelming you.

One point worth noting: in the engine era, finding a “new move” is no longer hard. The hard part is understanding when and why that move works. That is why ChessBase's opening articles usually include explanatory sections — something pure databases do not offer.

From keyboard to chessboard, the speed of writing never matches the speed of a move. That is why I always tell my students: read slowly. Do not read an opening article in ten minutes. Read it over an hour, replay the lines on the board, and ask yourself what you would do if the opponent played differently.

ChessBase Book: when a magazine becomes an app

One technical detail of issue 225 is worth noting. ChessBase Magazine #225 is available as a direct download, including a booklet as a PDF file. Alternatively, users can choose a printed booklet with a download key. Notably, the issue is also available as a “ChessBase Book” for iPad, tablet and Mac.

For someone used to reading chess on paper — like me, who has spent thirty-two years reading old magazines with a pencil in hand — this new format was initially irritating. But after trying it, I understood why it matters. A “ChessBase Book” is not just a PDF. It links to an interactive board. You can move pieces on screen, try variations and return to the article immediately. This is the difference between reading and learning.

For the younger generation, this may not be new. But for older players who learned chess from paper books, adapting to digital formats is a real challenge. And publishers like ChessBase are doing it right: they are not abandoning traditional readers, but they are not standing outside the digital shift either.

A counter-intuitive view: instant-analysis culture and its price

Here I must say what few want to hear. The chess-analysis industry — including magazines like ChessBase — is creating a paradox. The more analysis there is, the less carefully people read it. The more opening videos exist, the fewer people think for themselves in the opening.

I have seen this at club tournaments. A young player can recite twenty lines of the Najdorf Sicilian but cannot explain why the queen must stand on that square. He learned the answer without learning the question. And when the opponent plays something outside the book, he collapses.

This is the trap of the chess-training industry. Products like ChessBase Magazine are excellent tools — but tools only help those who know how to use them. A 225-issue magazine cannot replace sitting alone with a board, trial and error, and drawing your own conclusions.

There is another, subtler aspect. Chess magazines tend to present games as perfect logical stories: this move leads to that move, this mistake leads to defeat. But real chess is not so perfect. Super-grandmasters get confused, get scared, and sometimes decide on vague intuition. Editing a game into a tidy story can inadvertently hide the human side of chess — the side that I, as a commentator, always try to preserve.

I say this not to deny the value of ChessBase Magazine #225. I say it to remind you that a good magazine is one that makes you want to put it down and play chess yourself.

What remains

A game without spectators is still a piece of music, just played for its own ears. And a short game without an endgame is still a lesson, just one that ends earlier than expected.

Chess Festival Prague 2026, through the lens of ChessBase Magazine #225, leaves an open question. When every move can be analysed, every mistake pointed out and every idea shared in seconds — what makes the difference between players? The answer may lie not in opening knowledge, but in the capacity to endure uncertainty.

The board remains the only place where a person must face themselves with no hiding place. And short games — twenty-seven out of 225, or twenty-seven thousand worldwide — are the moments when a person is exposed fastest. That is why they are worth studying. Not to win quickly, but to understand yourself sooner.

For club players looking for training material this season, ChessBase Magazine #225 is a choice worth considering. Not because it teaches you a new opening line. But because it reminds you that chess, however digitised, remains a human game — with all its uncertainty, fear and beauty.