Magnus Carlsen has clinched victory at Norway Chess 2025, marking his seventh triumph in this premier event. For many, this is simply another entry in the long list of accomplishments for a player widely considered the greatest of all time. However, this win arrives wrapped in a curious layer of irony.
Classical chess, the format demanding extended periods of deep strategic thought, is something Carlsen has publicly stated he`s lost interest in. He`s been vocal about finding it less engaging than faster formats, even going so far as to question his future participation. The world`s top players gathered in Stavanger, giving their utmost in this very format Carlsen seems ready to discard, only to see him, once again, emerge victorious.
His motivation for this particular tournament appeared complex. Perhaps, beneath the public nonchalance, lay a desire to demonstrate that regardless of who currently holds the official World Championship title, the undisputed master of the game`s classical form, when he chooses to engage, remains him.
This underlying competitive fire became vividly apparent following his unexpected loss to the current World Champion, D Gukesh. Carlsen, in a rare display of raw emotion, reacted strongly after blundering a winning position. Slamming the table and letting out an audible exclamation before quickly leaving the playing hall (while apologizing to Gukesh), it was a moment that underscored how much losing, especially due to a self-inflicted error in a favourable position, still impacts him, public statements about classical chess notwithstanding. It is, after all, a rare event for Carlsen to lose a classical game, rarer still to throw away a winning one in such fashion. He did not suffer another classical defeat during the tournament.
Following his penultimate round win against Fabiano Caruana, Carlsen`s comments to the live commentators offered further insight into his mindset. He remarked that the loss to Gukesh had “burst” his dream of having a “really good tournament,” implying his personal standard for performance holds more weight than the mere act of winning the event itself.
It seems that, ultimately, the primary opponent for Magnus Carlsen is often Carlsen himself. His self-assessment and internal motivation metrics appear to be the true drivers, even when they lead him to question the very format he continues to dominate. After the loss to Gukesh, his subsequent quick draw against Hikaru Nakamura, where both players had ample time remaining, highlighted his wavering engagement. He later articulated sentiments about the format, stating, “Why am I doing this? What`s the point?” and confirming classical chess wasn`t “fun” anymore. Yet, crucially, he followed this by asserting, “I am not worried about my level.”
Winning the tournament provided a tangible, albeit slightly messy in the final game, demonstration of precisely why he maintains that confidence in his level. Against Arjun Erigaisi in the final round, Carlsen found himself in a difficult position after Erigaisi played nearly perfectly for over 30 moves. Within a mere six moves, Carlsen managed to turn the tide, transforming a precarious situation into one with winning chances before ultimately securing the necessary draw to claim the title. Commentators, witnessing this typical Carlsenesque transformation, were left in awe, describing his board vision and piece coordination as something uniquely masterful – a “genius” that could “bind them in a spell.”
And thus, the tournament concluded. The world`s finest players pushed hard, finishing remarkably close to Carlsen in the final standings. Yet, the individual who professes diminishing interest in classical chess, who publicly contemplates abandoning the format, still proved superior. This striking dichotomy between his stated feelings and his performance serves as arguably the most compelling evidence yet of Magnus Carlsen`s unique and enduring greatness. He continues to win against the best, even, it seems, when pitted against his own motivation.
Finley Holt