Bernard O'Shea: My daughter is my new checkmate

But here I am, 45 years old, being taken down piece by piece by my 10-year-old daughter on a tiny wooden battlefield known as a chessboard.

She recently joined her school’s chess club, and now my nightly challenge isn’t getting her to go to bed; it’s trying to keep my dignity intact while losing to her in a game of pure strategy.

It started when she proudly announced her new chess club membership. 

Chess? I wanted to stick to Connect Four or, at a stretch, draughts. 

I naively assumed that my draughts experience would give me a tactical edge. 

But chess is no draughts — it’s draughts on steroids with a side of existential crisis. 

This wasn’t just an upgrade to game night; it was like moving from training wheels to the Tour de France.

With all the nonchalance of a seasoned pro, my daughter was happy to become my teacher. 

Our first match was a comedy of errors. I confidently moved my first pawn, only for her to patiently explain each piece’s movement as though guiding a toddler through a toy store. 

Within three moves, I’d lost a knight (they move in an ‘L’ shape— definitely not a draughts lesson).

She effortlessly slid her pieces across the board, each correction tinged with a faint ‘I’ll go easy on you, Dad’. 

But here’s the thing: she didn’t go easy. She showed no mercy.

Chess has a storied history, filled with emperors, philosophers, and kings who, like me, struggled to learn the game — although they probably had a bit more motivation when kingdoms were at stake.

Chess originated from the ancient game of chaturanga in 6th-century India, designed to simulate battlefield tactics. 

It then spread to Persia, the Islamic world, and eventually medieval Europe, where it became a metaphor for war, each piece representing different societal roles. 

The rook symbolises fortresses, the bishop, and the church. 

The queen, initially weak, transformed into the board’s most powerful piece in the 15th century, reflecting the rising influence of queens in politics.

I felt oddly connected to these long-ago players, fumbling around the board as they did, except my only kingdom was my ego. 

Beyond the historical weight, there’s science behind why getting schooled by a 10-year-old isn’t just humbling but actually beneficial. 

Research shows that complex games such as chess stimulate cognitive function, improving memory, problem-solving skills, and resilience.

Chess engages both sides of the brain, with the left handling logic and analysis, while the right side, tied to creativity and intuition, anticipates the opponent’s strategy.

Studies show that chess improves focus, patience, and decision-making in children... qualities that transfer to real life. 

The mental benefits extend into adulthood, too. Chess is a workout for the brain, giving both the left and right hemispheres a solid exercise.

For adults, engaging in mentally stimulating activities such as chess can help delay cognitive decline and reduce stress. 

This is something I remind myself each time I hear “check” and watch my daughter’s grin as she strategises three moves ahead. 

She’s not only improving her mind — she’s unknowingly giving mine a necessary workout, even if my poor pieces fall individually.

After another defeat, I decided it was time to get serious. I watched a few chess tutorials, convinced I’d have a fighting chance. 

I smugly challenged her the next night: “Ready to lose?” She only smirked and said, “We’ll see.”

In a desperate and risky move, I sacrificed my knight (or as I call them the ‘L’ movers) to capture her pawn, thinking I’d finally gained the upper hand. 

Without missing a beat, she moved her queen and whispered “Checkmate”.

Chess is a lot like parenthood. It mixes strategy, patience, resilience, and willingness to look like an idiot. 

Each time I sit across from her, I know I’ll probably lose. 

So as I continue to play, I find myself grateful for the wisdom that comes from being schooled by a child.

Who knew that at my age, my best teacher would be a 10-year-old?