How to Win at Chess

What does it mean to truly *win* at chess? For millions of players, the game is a maze of memorized openings, flashy tactics, and endless online matches. In How to Win at Chess, International Master Levy Rozman—known globally as GothamChess—offers a fresh solution: stop treating chess as an enigma and start seeing it as a system of skillful principles anyone can learn. His conviction is simple yet revolutionary: chess isn’t about innate genius or obsessive memorization—it’s about structure, understanding, and practice. Through this lens, Rozman transforms what often feels like a mysterious pursuit into a practical, learnable craft.

A Teacher’s Mission to Demystify Chess

Rozman’s story begins not from the heights of international competition but from classrooms and livestreams. He taught chess to children and adults alike, developing a relatable, slightly irreverent style that made him one of the most-watched chess educators on the internet. When he speaks of chess, it’s not in cryptic jargon or elitist metaphors—he speaks as a teacher committed to clarity. The book, much like his videos, is structured to take a reader from total beginner to confident intermediate, ensuring no step feels too complex or abstract. It's as much a learning roadmap as a manifesto for making chess fun again.

From Fundamentals to Mastery

Rozman divides his work into two sections—one for beginners and one for intermediates. Part One helps you understand *how a chess game is actually won*, the logic of the openings, the beauty of endgames, and the essence of basic tactics and strategy. You learn not only what to play, but why each move matters. He begins with literal victory conditions—checkmate, running out of time, resignation, or abandonment—and then explores how to actually reach those outcomes. This reframing helps the reader internalize that chess is about creating *checkmate inevitability*, not random cleverness.

From there, Rozman introduces the 'Golden Moves'—a set of opening principles (control the center, develop your pieces, and castle early) that replace the need for memorizing endless openings. He teaches you that chess is geometry married to art: each move shapes the battlefield by expanding your control of space, connecting your army, and safeguarding your king. Through lively examples like the Italian Game, the London System, and the Caro-Kann Defense, Rozman helps readers understand not just how to move—but how to think.

Endgames, Drawing, and the Human Side of the Game

Every chess player fears the endgame: fewer pieces, more precision, and zero room for mistakes. Yet Rozman turns endgames into approachable puzzles where principles shine through patterns. He explains why checkmates like the 'Ladder Mate' or the 'King and Rook Mate' are essential stepping stones, why stalemate awareness prevents heartbreak, and how concepts like opposition, passed pawns, and zugzwang determine results. The lesson is clear: mastering the endgame isn’t mechanical—it’s psychological. Winning is about patience, not panic.

He also dedicates attention to *drawing*, an understated art form in chess. Just as great fighters retreat strategically, Rozman urges players to respect the draw. Stalemates, repetition, and the 50-move rule aren’t failures—they’re methods of survival. The deeper teaching here is humility: you don’t always win by overpowering; sometimes you win by refusing to lose.

Tactics, Strategy, and the Thinking Mind

Once the mechanics are secure, Rozman delves into the mental core of chess—the fusion of tactics (short-term forcing moves) and strategy (long-term planning). Through clear examples, he describes concepts like forks, pins, skewers, and discovered attacks as the tactical “grammar” of chess language. Strategy, then, becomes the poetry written with that grammar: weaknesses, space, posture, and timing are how you tell your story. This dynamic mirrors chess masters like Emanuel Lasker and Garry Kasparov, who showed that logic and creativity coexist. As Rozman quips, the trick to winning isn’t playing brilliant moves—it’s avoiding dumb ones.

He also introduces his signature framework, “CCA”—Checks, Captures, Attacks—a scanning method to ensure you never miss a winning shot or a defensive resource. For Rozman, this systematic habit is the bridge from messy intuition to disciplined thought. “CCA,” he explains, is the habit loop that transforms chaos into clarity.

Intermediate Insights and Psychological Framework

In Part Two, Rozman shifts from mechanics to mindset. He analyzes openings more deeply (the Vienna Gambit, the Alapin Sicilian, or the Queen’s Gambit Declined), reveals how to use gambits wisely rather than recklessly, and reintroduces the reader to endgames where small advantages become victories. He also explores subtle strategic elements: pawn structure, piece coordination, and trading decisions. Perhaps most memorably, he ends with his 'Checklist'—a mental system for reading a chess battle: identify what the opponent wants, scan using CCA, and then only move if you can explain why. This, he argues, is the mark of true growth.

Taken together, How to Win at Chess is more than a guide—it’s an invitation to rethink your relationship with learning itself. Rozman’s humor, accessibility, and precision combine to show that chess mastery mirrors life mastery: clarity of vision, patience, and pattern recognition matter far more than flashy instincts. For anyone who has ever looked at 64 squares in confusion, Rozman’s promise is simple: you can win—if you learn how to think before you move.

Rozman begins his lessons by answering the deceptively simple question embedded in his title: how do you *literally* win a chess game? Each match ends in one of four ways—checkmate, resignation, timing out, or abandonment—and understanding these possibilities helps organize your goals at the board.

Checkmate: The Art of the Finish

Checkmate is chess’s decisive punctuation mark, and Rozman treats it like a craft you can practice. He introduces classic patterns such as the Scholar’s Mate and Fool’s Mate, not to encourage trickery, but to reveal how kings become vulnerable. His diagrams show that a checkmate often requires only three or four pieces, not a full battlefield. Learning checkmate builds both tactical vision and empathy—you must think like the defender to execute the kill.

Resignation: Knowing When You’re Beaten

The second way to win is psychological. If your opponent resigns, you win. At elite levels, resignation is a mark of respect—a silent handshake that acknowledges futility. Rozman recounts how World Champion Magnus Carlsen defeated Viswanathan Anand in a 2014 match where Anand surrendered before checkmate rather than prolong suffering. For beginners, however, Rozman advises never resigning early. “Make your opponent earn it,” he writes. Casual players blunder under pressure, and miracles happen when you refuse to give up.

Time and Abandonment: The Human Element

Chess isn’t just about pieces—it’s about the clock. Whether in a blitz match online or in a six-hour classical encounter, managing time is its own battle. If your opponent’s clock hits zero, you win—unless you lack sufficient material for checkmate (a subtle rule Rozman highlights). He weaves this with humorous anecdotes about players walking away midgame—the 1895 case of Curt von Bardeleben literally leaving Wilhelm Steinitz’s winning position. Such stories illuminate chess’s mix of discipline and drama: sometimes victory isn’t about brilliance but endurance.

Through these four paths to victory, Rozman teaches a foundational concept: winning in chess is procedural before it’s artistic. You must understand how victory is defined before you can achieve it. For readers, that distinction reframes the board as a clear system—every plan, every tactic, ultimately serves one of these conditions. In doing so, Rozman invites you to treat each game not as chaos, but as a journey with recognizable endings.

After demystifying checkmates, Rozman moves to the opening—the phase where intuition often misleads beginners. His advice is refreshingly consistent: don’t memorize; understand. He distills countless opening theories into three essential principles—control the center, develop your pieces, and castle early. This trinity, which he calls the 'Golden Moves,' underpins every successful start, from the Italian Game to the London System.

Center, Develop, Castle

Controlling the center (the d4, e4, d5, e5 squares) maximizes a piece’s vision. A knight in the corner sees two squares; a knight in the center sees eight. This geometry quietly governs strategy: dominate the middle, and you dominate mobility. 'Develop' means mobilizing pieces toward this battle zone—bishops and knights first, keeping the queen behind until necessary. Finally, castling protects your king and activates a rook simultaneously. By engraining this sequence, you replace confusion with structure, building openings naturally rather than mimicking grandmasters.

The Two Roads: e4 and d4

Rozman contrasts two opening families. The King’s Pawn Opening (1.e4) leads to energetic, open games—bright diagonals, tactical fireworks, and famous systems like the Italian or Ruy López. The Queen’s Pawn Opening (1.d4) ushers in slower, strategic battles like the London or Queen’s Gambit. Rozman’s pragmatic verdict? Pick one and play it repeatedly. Depth beats variety. This guidance echoes Bruce Lee’s philosophy: 'I fear not the man who has practiced 10,000 kicks once, but the man who has practiced one kick 10,000 times.'

Learning Like a Modern Player

Unlike older manuals that drown learners in notations, Rozman integrates online realities—Elo ratings, databases, and engines—as learning tools. He wants you to practice, test, and replay openings rather than archive them. If chess masters of the 19th century found beauty in memorized lines, Rozman finds it in pattern fluency. 'You don’t need to be Magnus Carlsen,' he writes. 'You just need to know why your pawn is standing in the middle of the board.' That shift—from rote to reason—is what turns opening fear into mastery.

Rozman believes that real improvement begins where most players stop—at the endgame. He dismantles the myth that endgames are for experts, presenting them instead as your best training ground for clarity. With fewer pieces, every square matters; every move teaches discipline. He introduces iconic mates—King and Queen vs. King, King and Rook vs. King—then elevates difficulty with ladder mates and opposition techniques. He compares mastering them to learning 'chess CPR': essential skills that revive positions you thought were dead.

Drawing: The Art of Survival

A full chapter on draws might surprise casual players, but Rozman insists it’s crucial. He reframes stalemate, repetition, and insufficient material as psychological triumphs. A stalemate, for instance, demands awareness—the fine line between overkilling and overreaching. “Finding a draw from a losing position,” he jokes, “feels like stealing a win.” His examples—from grandmaster negotiations to online blunders—reinforce this paradox: salvation is an art.

Lessons from Imperfection

Rozman delightfully reminds readers that 96% of non-master games don’t end in draws. Humans blunder—it’s inevitable. Accepting this truth is freeing. Unlike engines that play perfectly, you and your opponent stumble toward insight. In practice, that means never resigning too soon, recognizing that every game—even one seemingly lost—carries the potential for redemption. In life as in chess, he implies, grace under pressure defines character more than victory totals.

Tactics are where logic meets lightning. Rozman calls them 'the skeleton key of chess understanding'—short sequences that unlock material gains or checkmates through concrete calculation. He divides tactics into recognizable families: forks, pins, skewers, discoveries, and deflections. Each has its own emotional logic—some trap, some ambush, some uncover hidden firepower.

Chess Vision: Seeing the Invisible

At the foundation lies *piece vision*, the ability to picture all squares a piece 'sees.' A queen on d4 scans 27 squares; a knight in the middle is an 'Octopus,' controlling eight. This isn’t trivia—it’s situational awareness. Through illustrated examples, Rozman shows that improving vision changes everything: you spot forks before they happen and sense when your opponent’s piece stands undefended. From there, he builds to advanced motifs like discovered attacks or skewers, the 'X-rays' of the chess mind.

Tactics with Personality

Rozman infuses life into abstract patterns. The fork becomes a family dinner disaster (one piece attacking many). The pin is a hostage situation; the skewer a line of dominoes. These metaphors lighten the mental load, turning intimidating theory into memorable stories. His goal is repetition-based pattern recognition—the same process elite players like Hikaru Nakamura use. “You won’t memorize tactics,” he promises, “you’ll recognize them.”

Above all, tactics teach accountability: you can’t blame luck. Whether you seize or miss an opportunity is on you. Rozman’s playful yet rigorous approach ensures that tactics are less about brilliance and more about training your eyes to never take a silent square for granted.

Where tactics teach how to strike, strategy teaches why to wait. Rozman defines strategy as “any plan that lasts longer than two moves.” He focuses on positional understanding—recognizing weaknesses, managing space, and deciding whether a position is open or closed. Through layered examples, he reveals that winning strategy often means doing less: restraining impulse, strengthening control, and simplifying when ahead.

Weaknesses and Space

Rozman urges readers to scan for unprotected pieces and underdefended squares—cracks you can pry open slowly. He compares this to finding soft soil before planting an attack. Space, meanwhile, reflects control; the more squares your pieces influence on your opponent’s side, the more suffocated their moves become. His advice parallels Sun Tzu’s groundwork in The Art of War: occupy ground that forces your enemy to move on your terms.

Closed vs. Open Worlds

In open positions with cleared centers, bishops and rooks thrive; in closed pawn fortresses, knights become heroes. Recognizing which world you inhabit allows you to activate the right allies. Rozman’s clarity on this point pays dividends: you’ll stop blindly moving 'good' pieces and start mobilizing the right ones for the geometry in front of you. “Play the board—not the ghosts in your head.”

His strategic chapters bridge chess and mindfulness. They remind you that focus isn’t about aggression—it’s about awareness. The moment you stop reacting to ghosts and start reading structure, chess transforms from chaos into conversation.

As readers advance, Rozman offers his quintessential tool: the CCA system—Checks, Captures, Attacks. It’s a mental compass you use every turn to scan the board. The simplicity belies its power. By forcing you to ask three questions—Can I check? Can I capture? Can I attack?—the system slows rash moves and reveals winning opportunities you might otherwise overlook.

From Awareness to Calculation

Rozman trains you to conduct this triage in seconds. In one example, a player under threat ignores panic, checks for possible counter-checks, and finds a lethal knight move that flips defeat into checkmate. It’s not luck—it’s method. Using CCA builds pattern recall until it becomes reflex, helping you play like elite problem-solvers who automatically recognize forcing sequences.

Expanding to Mindset

Beyond tactics, CCA represents mindfulness: you observe before acting. Rozman calls it 'the pause button of chess.' He demonstrates its use in everything—from spotting opponent threats (“What does my opponent want?”) to structuring long-term plans. Just as journaling clarifies emotion, CCA clarifies calculation. Whether in chess or decision-making generally, it replaces reflex with reflection—a lesson that transcends the 64 squares.

Part Two of Rozman’s book synthesizes everything: the pawn structures, the bishop-versus-knight debates, the emotional discipline of trading, and the practical systems of planning. By this stage, he treats readers not as students but as developing players, ready to control rather than react to games.

Pawn Structures and Breaks

Rozman regards pawns as the DNA of chess positions. Chains, complexes, and isolated or backward pawns all shape how energy flows across the board. In the King’s Indian Defense, for instance, he contrasts White attacking on the queenside while Black pushes kingside pawns—a thematic collision of plans. Understanding these patterns, he argues, turns intuition into foresight. Every push of a pawn changes the ecosystem of threats and weakness.

Trading with Purpose

Rozman warns against 'autopilot captures.' A fair exchange in points can be a terrible exchange in position. He urges asking: does this trade improve my activity or my opponent’s? Should I simplify while ahead or complicate while behind? His decision grid—do trade/don’t trade—acts like a cheat sheet for situational awareness. Every swap should have a reason you can explain out loud.

The Final Checklist

In the closing chapter, Rozman’s philosophy comes full circle. Before moving, always ask: What does my opponent want? Then apply CCA. Only after answering both should you choose a move that improves your position. This checklist isn’t just a chess tool—it’s a cognitive framework for thoughtful living: diagnose, deliberate, decide. Winning, Rozman concludes, is the natural outcome of disciplined curiosity.