Go with the Flow Read online

  Go with the Flow

  How the Great Master of Go Trained His Mind

  Cho Hunhyun

  As the most respected Go master in Korea, Japan, and China, he has rewritten the modern history of Go by winning the largest number of victories. Becoming a professional go player at the age of nine, he went to Japan to be taught by Kensaku Segoe, one of the best Go masters in Japan for nine years.

  Starting with the first championship of the Ing Cup in 1989, which is dubbed the ‘Go Olympics’ he has achieved a grand slam for the first time in Go history by sweeping up championship trophies of all three major tournaments (the Ing Cup, the Fujistu Cup World Go Championship, the Tongyang Securities Cup) for five years afterward. He became the oldest winner of an international competition at the age of 50, which is the age that most professional Go players consider retirement. His strict self-discipline enabled him to make such a remarkable achievement that still remains as an unbroken record.

  As a member of the National Assembly, he has taken the lead of non-governmental diplomacy between Korea and China and also been active in various fields such as lecture and writing. More than a hundred thousand copies of his book, Go with the Flow, were sold right after publication, ascending to the bestseller spot in Korea and being translated and published in Japan and China as well.

  This is an important addition to body of books in English about Go. We in the West now have many books and teachers that can instruct us in how to play the game, but few that tell us what it is like to be a top Go player.

  Cho Hunhyun 9P does this with great openness, telling us his emotions, his feelings and perceptions, as he goes through the very taxing life necessary to have a chance to be a champion. He recounts trading an ordinary childhood for a childhood devoted to the game, trading life at home for life with a teacher in a foreign country, Japan, pursuing a career where one’s merit is measured anew with each move, surviving the inevitable descent from the summit as he lost one title then another, some to his own student.

  Perhaps most notable is Cho’s recounting of the story of his relationship with his teacher. Segoe Kensaku 9P was one of the more important teachers in 20th Century Go in Japan, based primarily on the reputations of his three pupils, Cho, Utaro Hashimoto 9P, and Go Seigen 9P. Cho’s story of the seemingly cold but deep bond he had with Segoe, the lessons he learned, and the circumstances of Segoe’s life and death, are something well worth reading, and not material that I have seen anywhere else. Cho goes on to describe his relationship with his only student, successor Korean champion Lee Changho 9P, which shared much with the student-teacher connection Cho had with Segoe.

  What emerges is the portrait of a remarkable man, who has had a rich, full life and wide-ranging interests, but all concentrated in a sense by the lens of Go. It was a joy to read.

  – Andrew Okun, President, America Go Association

  Cho Hunhyun studied Go in Japan as a child prodigy, after which he returned to Korea to become one of the greatest players in Go history. Cho’s unique life experience makes him the perfect person to introduce us to the Go scene in Korea and Japan.

  In Go with the Flow, Cho writes of his struggles to become a better Go player. There are many episodes about players who earned Cho’s respect, giving us a fascinating collection of stories about the best Go players of the 20th century. Cho talks of his friend Jimmy Cha, who was a prominent player when he lived in America. This book can be enjoyed by anyone who has an interest in Go or Asian culture.

  – Michael Redmond, Professional Go Player

  Go with the Flow is a collection of anecdotes from the life of one of the game’s great masters. With each story, Mr. Cho relates the lessons he learned in his career as a professional player – patience, poise, humility, how to cope with loss – to his philosophy on life outside the Go board. “The strength to think”, writes Cho, “is the only beacon that helps one get through life. Along the journey, we learn more about ourselves…” Anyone interested in the modern history of the game will find something to love from Cho’s insightful memoir.

  – Will Lockhart, Film Director, The Surrounding Game

  It’s thrilling to read Cho Hunhyun recount the stories of some of his most famous victories, but I was most touched by how much he dealt with the sadness, frustration, and loss he experienced in his career. Cho’s life story brings together some of the most important and vivid figures in 20th Century Go, from his formative years training in Japan as a teenager to his return to Korea and rediscovery of the disregard for supposedly ideal shape that would came to define Korean go. He writes touchingly of his relationships with his austere but generous teacher, Segoe Kensaku, with ‘monster’ Fujisawa Shuko who was madly in love with life, and with his remote and exacting student, Lee Changho, who would rise to defeat him in a series of maddening half-point victories. Cho is candid about how miserable it is for pros to review a game they’ve lost, despite the calm composure they maintain on the outside: Go players review games because it’s vital, not because it ever becomes easy. Cho’s thoughts on the importance of physical exercise, a persistent and optimistic drive to find the best solutions possible, and making time for solitude are relevant to all of us.

  – Nate Eagle, Co-Director, 2018 U.S. Go Congress

  Mr. Cho Hunhyun 9P, became professional at the age of nine (the youngest player to become a professional). After winning his first title in 1975 he dominated not just the Korean Go scene until 1990.

  Winning the first Ing Cup, gave the Korean Go scene a lot of prestige worldwide. This book gives you many nice stories and memories of Mr. Cho.

  Best are the stories where he gives the reader inside information about professional go, and how to become and get stronger as professional go player.

  – Antonius Claasen, Repoter, European Go Federation

  Introduction

  Learning from Go

  I don’t know anything else but Go. I was only five when I took my first steps over the threshold of a Go club. My father took my hands in his and brought me down to that place in my hometown of Mokpo. Ever since then and now- I am way over 60- it has all been about Go and nothing else.

  I never received formal education nor had a corporate job. My acquaintances are limited to those in the Go community. I did not get to live the expected, predictable yet colorful experiences that most people have. Preparing for college admission, competing for jobs, agonizing about making the right career move, being overwhelmed by the feeling electricity when falling in love, and dealing with the stress of corporate life…I have missed out on these spectacular events of an ordinary life.

  However, it doesn’t mean I don’t know about life. Within my universe of Go, I believe I have had my fair share of passion and indifference, love and hatred, hope and despair, success and failure, loyalty and dishonesty. My life may have appeared too monotonous and simple to the eyes of others, but to me, it was an equally, if not the most, vibrant and eventful life I could have lived.

  I gave up my childhood to learn Go. I lived away from home when kids my age lived with their parents and got to be ‘kids.’ From the age of eleven to eighteen, I lived in Japan to train for Go. My parents did not follow me. At an early age, I had already swept medals in Go championships in Korea, and the winning streak took me all the way to win titles in world championships. But, at only forty-three, I had to confront my student and lose every single one of my title to him. It was bitter because I was defeated, but sweet because I was proud of my student.

  All my life, I have crashed to the ground and climbed my way up again, over and over. One would think that after so many victories or defeats, one would become thick-skinned. But, losing still stings. Now that I am getting older and clumsier, I have been losing more games.

&nb
sp; And yet I still play Go. I used to play to win, but now for the love of it. Once dubbed a natural winner, the realization that life is not always about winning came when I took a step back. What matters most is to do your best on the path you have chosen.

  Most of us, unfortunately, choose to think in ways that make us insecure and are quick to assume that we have failed in life. We let little things upset us and blowing them out of proportion; we worry about things in the future that may never happen; we have a hard time getting over life’s small setbacks; we let trivial things hurt our feelings and crash our morale.

  Heaven or hell? It all depends on how one looks at things. In my early days, I was too young to realize it. But now, I appreciate the saying. It took years of conditioning- allowing myself to look at life’s unanticipated events from a different angle- so that I can move on. I was in great agony when my only student took my championship titles one by one. But, I thought, if those titles were meant to be taken by someone someday, it was perhaps better for me to see none other than my own student take the honor from me. I felt better immediately. I contemplated about retirement when I lost all of my titles and failed to make it even to the preliminary match. I felt at ease, however, when I realized that I had hit rock bottom and the only way was up.

  It all comes down to how one chooses to think. Everyday cannot be perfect. Good days and bad days take turns in getting washed up the shore. Infancy is the only worry-free days we get to enjoy and it is over in a fleeting moment. We are soon driven to deal with life- a continuum of troubles and distress. So how does one cope with life-long distress?

  This is where shifting perspectives makes all the difference. One needs to change the way one thinks to carry on with the rest of the days in one’s life. Reformulate how one thinks. Every day must be filled with thoughts that fuel one to carry on happily; thoughts that emanate optimism, creativity, self-confidence, and sound judgement. When one transforms the way one thinks, it triggers a chain reaction in one’s behavior and in the daily routine, which all weaves into a story that ends on the right note. The mind is the most powerful force that brings out the best in oneself.

  The objective of Go is to control more territory than one’s opponent. It resembles our life in that respect. Every day, we make a fierce move to expand our own “turf,” whatever that may mean to each of us. But, with what thought in mind? We need to remind ourselves of the great power of thinking as we take a step forward. Carry on and visualize the wider ground we deserve. Make the effort to place each stone in the best possible position the board.

  We are already the winner of our lives as long as we have fought with all our might.

  In the spring of 2015

  Cho Hunhyun

  Chapter 1

  How Go Masters Think

  All it took me was to walk into the forest of my thoughts, where the twigs of my thoughts led me to the answers. The answers were already there, expecting me.

  The Fifth and

  the Final Deciding Game

  It was at 9:30 in the morning, September 5, 1989. I was spacing out, sitting in the bed in my hotel room in Singapore. I had come down with the flu soon after I landed in the country, which left my skin extremely sensitive and annihilated my taste buds that I was forcing the hot soup and bread down my throat. The final round of the tournament was just about to begin. My mouth was dry and I was getting into a stew. Just before the Final fifth of the Ing Changki Cup, I closed my eyes and tried to control my breathing. I took a long breath out and the images of the past few months passed before my eyes as if recalled from a magic lantern; the Ing Cup tour card, which I secured as the only Korean Go player; the quarterfinal round with Koichi Kobayashi and the semifinal match with Rin Kaiho, in both of which I was cornered for the eleventh hour before winning by a narrow margin; ten days in China that felt like purgatory; exhaustingly managing the final fourth round and miraculously ending the game in a tie.

  The Ing Changki Cup, or Ing Cup for short, is a professional international Go championship launched by Ing Changki himself, a Taiwanese-born billionaire who generously contributed his own fortune to creating the tournament. I was among the finalists in the inaugural 1989 tournament. At around the same time, the Fujitsu Cup, another international Go championship, also one of the first in the world, was created in Japan. But, it was no match to the Ing Cup, both in scale and significance. The Ing Cup was the Go Olympics, held every four years and the prize money for the winner was a colossal amount of 400,000 dollars. Every year the ‘Go Olympics’ was held, the world was obsessed to find out who was going to win the biggest cash prize ever in the history of Go championship.

  The Ing Cup was created to promote the Chinese Go, which has always taken pride in being identified as the country of origin of Go; but its longtime dilemma was that it was always overshadowed by Japan’s leadership in international Go. And then something unexpected happened at the 1985 inaugural China-Japan Supermatches. Nie Weiping, from China, rode on a 11 game winning streak in the first three tournaments playing against top Japanese players.

  China was hoping to continue to pick up steam and solidify its place as the world’s ultimate Go power house. The Ing Cup was supposed to be the venue for the greater glory of the state. And China wanted the world to know that it was going all for it; half of the players in the Ing Cup were either from China or had Chinese background. Two thirds of the rest were from Japan and only two Koreans; Cho Chikun and myself. Cho Chikun having qualified as professional player through Nihon Ki-in, the Japan Go Association made me the sole player representing Korean Go.

  In this masterplan, I was included to be the stalking horse. The host of the Ing Cup had tossed the tournament ticket with my name on it up in the air; whether I caught it or not, they couldn’t care less. It was insulting, but I had no choice but to take it. It was the opportunity that I had to seize in order to learn from world-class players even if it meant coming home completely crushed. But, something unexpected happened; to everyone’s shock, I made it to the final round. My humble role was to just show up and fill in the assortment of Go players the organizer had created for their plan.

  The eyes of the world now shifted from the Sino-Japan competition to the battle Korea was waging against China. Neither could afford to lose; China desperately needed a victory. Its pride as the first country to play Go was at stake. Korea saw it as a golden opportunity to finally take a step into the center of the stage, and remove its reputation of being a ‘nobody’ in international Go.

  For ultimate victory, I had to win the first three rounds out of five in the finals. The finals didn’t start until five months after the semifinal was over. Just a few weeks before the first round of the finals, the organizer informed us that all of the five rounds of the finals was going to take place in China. It meant that the Chinese player was going to enjoy the home ground advantage while his opponents would have to risk losing in the Chinese playing field. It was a complete nonsense. The Korean team made a strong objection and convinced the organizer to set up three rounds in China, and two in a third country.

  Even so, I realized I was still behind the eight ball as I was on my way to China. This was happening at a time when we referred to China as “the communist China.” With no diplomatic ties between Korea and China, there was no direct flight between the two countries. It was a two full day trip to China; I had to go to Hong Kong to get my visa, and take every mode of transportation, in addition to the plane, ship, and the train, just to get to Hangzhou. By the time I made it to the hotel, I was completely exhausted, barely able to hold up myself.

  To make matters worse, tension in the communist state was suffocating. The atmosphere was already warlike the second I was getting off the plane. The first thing I noticed was the MIG jet fighters lined up on the runway and Chinese security police was everywhere. The spacious and pleasant look of the hotel was not enough to conceal the heavy and stifling air. Whenever I left the hotel, I was always followed by the security police as if the
y were my shadow. Pitch-darkness and eerie silence fell when the hands of the clock pointed 6 o’clock in the evening. I was hardly breathing, not because of the pressure of the coming match but because of the stress I got from the surroundings.

  The first round of the finals began under this circumstances. It ended with a lucky win for me, attributable not to my good play but to my opponent, Nie Weiping, who was in a bad shape. He had been under tremendous pressure to win and was crumbling under the weight of all the expectation he had been receiving. Worse, he had a heart condition that required an oxygen mask to be ready nearby at all times in case of emergency.

  Nie Weiping won the second and the third round which took place a few days apart. I lost, not because he was better than me but because I was having a nervous breakdown, intimidated by the hostile mood in the communist China. I was so ready to leave China after only being in the country for a week. I was breaking down mentally. My nerves were in shreds.

  The news of Nie Weiping’s winning streak was all over China and the country was assuming victory, prepared to pop the champagne, while I was quietly packing to go home. China showed no mercy for the defeated even on the day I was leaving. The Chinese government stopped me from leaving for Hong Kong, saying that there was something wrong with my documents. I was afraid that I would be detained forever in China.

  I went through hell and high water to get on board of a ship to Hong Kong. Only then did I feel a breath of fresh air in my body. I survived!

  Four months later, the last two rounds of the finals were held in Singapore. The goddess of victory seemed to smile at the Chinese player. Nie Weiping was glowing with confidence at the dinner reception as if he too, felt that victory was on his side. “Obviously, a Chinese player deserves to win the world’s biggest tournament hosted by the Chinese. Who else? The championship cup is mine!” he said.