gowan said:
Quote:
When Segoe and others were first spreading go in the world people distant from the Asian go centers mostly didn't have access to many game records of pros.
A very good point. One reason I prize the (rare) discussion here is that it can bring up points that I had not considered myself, such as this one.
That, in turn, can lead to further stimulating (maybe incorrect, but still stimulating) thought of one's own. In this case, my own further thoughts went something along the following lines.
First, it occurred to me that, while the Japanese would then certainly have had more access to game records than westerners, it was still not easy for them. Very few people would have been able to afford large collections of games such as those of Shusaku. But they did have games in go magazines and newspapers. The two often went together. I have a very large collection of old magazines. Hidden within their pages are lots of clippings of game records from newspapers, made by the original Japanese owners. Even non-Japanese readers would collect these newspaper records. John Power, for example, has a large pile in his attic which he kindly used to provide GoGoD with rare games.
Japanese pros tell lots of anecdotes about travelling round the country to play games with rich amateurs, at whose homes they discover priceless collections of old games. They spend most of their stays in said homes copying the games by hand! There were no photocopiers in those days.
Indeed, it further occurred to me that that could have been a major factor in the live-in system of pupillage. If you start from the premise that playing over lots of pro games is the best way to become strong, you need access to such games. And if you can't afford them yourself, you can be sure to find collections in the homes of existing pro teachers. I have never seen that specifically mentioned as a factor in fostering the live-in system - it is usually explained as an extension of the traditional
orei boko apprentice system - but it does tally with records of the Edo families prizing their own records and keeping them secret.
It also tallies with a story that has long intrigued me. Kato Masao was a member of the Kitani school, and in her autobiography, Mrs Kitani described the routine for the children. The day began with rising at 6am, when the children were expected to play over a game from the classic collections. (At 7am there was radio calisthenics, and breakfast was at 7.30.) Kato Masao evidently liked to snooze a bit more before he got up and became adept at finding short games to play over. Implicit in this story, incidentally, is the supposition that they had to learn the game, or at least part of it, by heart. We can deduce from other, similar accounts that they had to expect Kitani to pounce on them and make them replay the game from memory.
Years later, Kato himself recounted how he had stormed his way to title matches as the "Assassin" - killing large enemy groups in seemingly every game. Short games. in other words. But when he got to the actual title match he kept on coming off second best. He was, of course, playing the very best players who could see as far as him tactically, and their groups tended not to die. Long games, in other words. Games at which Kato had little experience, whereas his title-match opponents, who were generally fellow members of the Kitani school who did get up at 6am on the dot and play over longer games, had plenty of such experience.
Kato also recounted how his failures were getting him down, so that he finally asked his co-pupils how to cross this final hurdle. Which he did eventually, but, annoyingly, he never revealed what they told him. And I'd love to know. I have long assumed it was some sort of psychological advice: "Stiffen the sinews" and "Cry God for Harry!" But, today, I'm now wondering whether it was that by playing over only short games he had never learnt how to finish off a won game properly. Once he started playing over longer games, did he improve that extra notch. We know it's not far-fetched because Michael Redmond has told us how he had a similar realisation, late in his career, that his opponents were rather better in the endgame than he was.
As to whether I'm right about the relative scarcity of game records in those days in Japan, I find it easy to believe because I and most others of my generation were once in a similar position with books in general. We had one bookshop in the city and books were very expensive. My own home was initially almost bookless (though we had good public libraries and I built up a nice collection by winning book prizes at school). But in those post-war days we had lots of door-to-door salesmen, and they included people selling encyclopaedias. My parents bought me Arthur Mee's "Children's Encyclopaedia" and I read and re-read almost every word off the page. By a strange coincidence, I found the same set of books in a care home a few months ago, and I could turn to my favourite pages just like yesterday, almost 70 years on!
I can easily imagine the same sort of scene in Japan: a young player suddenly presented with a rare collection in his teacher's home. It does not surprise me if he claims (as told in Kageyama's "Treasure Chest Enigma") that he can remember the old games years later.
It's going off on a different tangent, but this same train of thought led me to realise something about old Chinese games. There is a comment you sometimes see in their commentaries that that particular game exemplifies a good "model" to follow. It's common enough to have registered with me, anyway. It dawned on me that, implicit in such comments, was again advice to play over pro games.
The way I see it, everything stacks up to support the pro advice from auld lang syne to play over pro games as your main mode of study. In your countryside walks through the land of go, be first a wood expert - so you don't get lost. But Kato and Redmond also provide a reminder that you also need to become a tree expert eventually! Learn to follow the stars as well as a compass.
This too been a bit of ramble (which makes me think on "We twa hae run about the braes,/and pou'd the gowans fine;/But we've wander'd mony a weary fit,/sin' auld lang syne.), but my brain enjoyed it. So, thank you, gowan.
And that naturally calls forth a later verse:
And there's a hand, my trusty fiere!
and gie's a hand o' thine!
And we'll tak' a right gude-willie waught,
for auld lang syne.