ChessBase Magazine No. 225: Prague 2026, 27 Short Games and a Lesson in Conciseness

In a small apartment in Saint Petersburg, the February snow has not yet melted. I open the file of ChessBase Magazine No. 225, and the first thing that strikes me is not a long game, but a number: 27. Twenty-seven short games. Not six-hour battles with hundreds of moves meticulously recorded, but "miniatures" — described by the editorial team as "highly entertaining".

Years ago, when I still sat in the stands of tournaments in Russia, I believed that the value of a chess game lay in its length. A short game was an unripe game. An early loss was a mistake, not a work of art. This winter, rereading those 27 games, I realize I was wrong. And perhaps a generation of chess fans has been wrong in the same way.

ChessBase Magazine No. 225 is a periodical, but it is also a classroom, a library and a stage at once. This issue devotes most of its space to the Prague Chess Festival 2026 — one of the most anticipated tournaments of the European winter.

The Prague Chess Festival is an annual event in the capital of the Czech Republic, gathering many of the world's top players. In 2026, it continues to affirm its place within the international tournament system. What makes Prague fertile ground for analysis is not the list of players, but the quality of the games born there — games that carry the breath of a tournament with tradition, where spectators sit very close to the board.

ChessBase Magazine is a long-standing chess training publication aimed at both club players and professionals. Its structure has been stable for years. World-class players analyze their own brilliant games and explain the ideas behind each move. Opening specialists present the latest trends in theory. Master trainers in tactics, strategy and endgames show the tricks and techniques needed to become a successful tournament player.

Issue 225 is released as a direct download, including the booklet as a PDF, or as a booklet with a download key by post. It is also available as a "ChessBase Book" for iPad, tablet and Mac. It is a small detail, but it says much about how the chess industry is changing: knowledge is no longer locked in paper.

In this issue, the analysis of the Prague Chess Festival 2026 features Aravindh Chithambaram, Anish Giri, Ediz Gurel, David Navara and many other players. Those names are far from random. Each represents a generation, a school, a different way of seeing the board. Aravindh Chithambaram is a rising force of Indian chess in recent years. Anish Giri is a Dutch player with a rigorous style and opening preparation regarded as among the most meticulous in the world. Ediz Gurel is Turkey's young representative. David Navara is the pride of Czech chess, playing at home and knowing every corner of the Prague tournament. That diversity is what makes a training publication come alive.

What made me pause longest in issue 225 was the special section: 27 short games described by the editorial team as "highly entertaining". In chess, a "miniature" is generally understood as a game that ends within about twenty-five moves. It is the most underrated genre in chess analysis culture.

The reason is easy to understand. A long game is seen as a symbol of endurance, of deep calculation, of psychological stamina. A short game is often attributed to one side's mistake rather than the other's talent. But reading those 27 games, I realized something else: a short game is where instinct is most exposed, because there is no time to hide.

In a long game, a player can repair mistakes, turn the tide, convert defeat into a draw. In a short game, everything happens too fast for hesitation. One wrong move, and the game is lost. That is why miniatures are precious training material: they teach us about tempo, about precision, about the price of a moment of carelessness.

The editorial team calls those 27 games "entertainment", but I think the word carries a broader meaning. Entertainment here is the pleasure of watching an idea unfold neatly, without a single wasted move. It is like a short poem compared to a novel: fewer words, but each word must carry weight.

Besides that, issue 225 also features opening videos by Jan Werle, Daniel King and Robert Ris. These three names need no long introduction to serious chess players. Jan Werle is known for his clear, pragmatic presentation. Daniel King is regarded as one of the most engaging chess storytellers, capable of turning a dry opening line into a story with characters and a climax. Robert Ris brings the calm and depth of a coach.

Ten opening articles with new repertoire ideas are an important addition. In the modern chess world, opening theory evolves so fast that a club player can feel outdated after just a few months without updates. These articles offer new lines, and more importantly, they explain the reasoning behind them — that is what holds lasting value.

It is worth adding that the structure of a publication like ChessBase Magazine is not accidental. It reflects a training philosophy: players need exposure to several layers of chess at once — opening, middlegame, endgame, tactics, strategy, and even short games of a demonstrative kind. No layer is more important than another. But in reality, players tend to pour their energy into the opening layer, where it seems possible to memorize and reap quick results.

Here I must confess something that may be controversial. I have followed chess training publications for many years, and I have noticed a worrying trend: players increasingly believe that mastering more opening lines means getting stronger.

I do not think so. Memorizing ten more opening lines does not make a player much stronger than deeply understanding a single short game. The chess industry has invested heavily in opening theory, and that creates an illusion of progress. You open an article, memorize a few moves, and feel you have learned something. But in the middle of a game, when your opponent departs from the line you learned, you are back to being yourself.

The 27 short games in issue 225 remind me of the opposite. They do not teach you to memorize. They teach you to see. A good miniature often contains a unique tactical idea, an unexpected sacrifice, a moment when ordinary logic is reversed. Those moments cannot be memorized mechanically; they must be understood.

There is another painful point. Courses, videos and opening articles multiply, but the average club player's quality in middlegame and endgame calculation does not rise accordingly. This is the blind spot of collective memory. We remember grand opening systems, but forget that chess is decided in the moves in the middle of the board, where no book shows the way.

Of course, I do not deny the value of opening theory. The ten articles in issue 225 are good material, and players like Anish Giri or David Navara — famous for their meticulous preparation — prove that the opening still matters at the highest level. But for most players, what is missing is not another opening line. What is missing is the ability to recognize an idea the moment it appears.

What I value most in ChessBase Magazine No. 225 is how it organizes its content. It places analyses by Aravindh, Giri, Gurel and Navara alongside 27 short games, alongside opening videos, alongside articles on tactics and endgames. It does not separate the professional from the club player. Everyone is invited to the same table.

That is an editorial choice with a philosophical dimension. Chess is not a pyramid with the best at the top and beginners at the bottom. It is a shared space, where a short game by an unknown player and a long game by a former world champion can convey the same lesson.

I remember once, years ago, sitting at a tournament in Moscow. Beside me was an old man who played chess in the park. He did not know the name of any contemporary grandmaster. But watching a game, he pointed at a move and said: "That move is redundant." He was right. The game ended not long after, and that redundant move was the beginning of everything.

That memory returns to me as I read the 27 short games. Understanding chess does not come from a list of opening lines. It comes from seeing the redundant, the missing, the moment a game turns in another direction. ChessBase Magazine No. 225, despite being a commercial product, accidentally teaches that better than many thick textbooks.

I write these lines from a city where chess was once part of a collective identity. Here, chess is not merely a sport; it is a language. But that language is changing. Young players now grow up with engines, with vast databases, with opening lines updated weekly. They are better at openings than the previous generation, but sometimes I wonder whether they can read the board as a story.

A magazine like ChessBase Magazine No. 225, with 27 short games placed in a place of honor, can be a reminder. It says that chess still has room for surprise, for beauty born of brevity, for an idea unfolded in twenty moves that leaves an echo far longer than a six-hour game.

On the day the heart stops beating, I learned to beat slower but deeper.

Luzhniki night, the old bird understands that landing is also a way of flying. The 27 short games in Prague 2026 are such landings — not failures, but another way of touching the ground of intelligence.

In Prague in the winter of 2026, players sat at the board and left behind short games. The editorial team calls them "entertainment". I call them evidence. Evidence that in a chess world increasingly dominated by theory and data, there remains a space for pure instinct — a space a short game fills, in silence, without asking permission.

When the stadium no longer holds a ball, memory begins to score.

Perhaps those 27 short games will be remembered longer than the long games people have forgotten. Not because they are better, but because they teach us something contemporary chess is gradually forgetting: that sometimes, the most precious thing lies in stopping at the right moment.