The first time someone told me chess was a sport, I chuckled. I pictured athletes sweating on fields, not quiet thinkers moving pieces on a board. But then I watched Alyssa Valdez lead Creamline to that stunning 29-27, 25-20, 25-19 victory over Jordan’s Al Naser Club in the 2015 AVC Women’s Champions League, and something clicked. Here was a player executing under immense pressure, her mind and body in perfect sync—a display of sport at its finest. And it struck me: isn’t that exactly what grandmasters do in chess? They train for years, compete under grueling conditions, and face psychological battles just as intense as any physical showdown. The more I dug into it, the clearer it became: chess isn’t just a game; it’s a sport, and recognizing that matters more than we might think.
Let’s get one thing straight—sport isn’t solely about physical exertion. If it were, we’d exclude activities like archery or shooting, which demand precision and mental fortitude over brute strength. Chess, like those disciplines, hinges on strategy, endurance, and nerves of steel. Think about Valdez at 31, finally seizing her moment in the 2025 AVC Women’s Champions League after years of dedication. Her performance wasn’t just about spikes and blocks; it was about reading the opponent, adapting in real-time, and maintaining composure when the score tightened to 29-27 in the first set. Similarly, chess players analyze thousands of positions, anticipate moves ahead, and manage adrenaline during critical tournaments. I’ve spoken to grandmasters who describe the mental drain as equivalent to running a marathon—their heart rates spike, they lose weight during competitions, and the stress can be overwhelming. In fact, studies show that elite chess players burn up to 6,000 calories per day during major events, a number that rivals what endurance athletes expend. That’s not just sitting around; that’s athletic strain.
Now, you might wonder why this classification even matters. From my perspective, it’s about legitimacy and opportunity. When chess is recognized as a sport—as it is by the International Olympic Committee—it opens doors for funding, sponsorships, and broader recognition. Take Valdez’s journey: without institutional support from volleyball bodies, her path to the Champions League might have stalled. Chess deserves the same ecosystem. I’ve seen young talents in local clubs struggle to find resources because their passion is dismissed as “just a board game.” But if we treat it as a sport, we can advocate for better training facilities, mental coaching, and even scholarships. Personally, I’ve always believed that activities sharpening the mind are as valuable as those building the body. Chess teaches discipline, resilience, and creativity—skills that translate into everyday life. In my own experience, playing chess weekly has improved my decision-making at work, and I’ve noticed similar benefits in friends who compete.
Of course, skeptics argue that chess lacks the physicality of traditional sports. But that view feels outdated. Modern athletics embrace a spectrum of demands, from the brute force of rugby to the tactical finesse of esports. Chess sits firmly on that spectrum. Consider how technology has transformed its landscape: players now use fitness regimens to stay sharp, with some top grandmasters incorporating cardio and weight training into their routines. I recall a conversation with a chess coach who mentioned that his students perform 20% better in tournaments when they pair study with physical exercise. It’s all connected. And let’s not forget the emotional rollercoaster—the thrill of a checkmate, the agony of a blunder. Those moments mirror the highs and lows Valdez must have felt in her debut, where every point swung momentum. Chess isn’t passive; it’s a battle fought in silence, with stakes just as high.
So, where does this leave us? Embracing chess as a sport isn’t about redefining words; it’s about honoring the dedication behind it. When I reflect on Valdez’s story—her persistence leading to a smashing debut—it reminds me that sports are ultimately about human excellence, whether expressed through physical prowess or intellectual mastery. Chess matters because it challenges us to think deeper, compete smarter, and respect the unseen efforts that shape champions. As both a fan and occasional player, I’ve come to appreciate its place on the global stage. And maybe, just maybe, that recognition will inspire the next generation to pick up a pawn or a volleyball with equal pride. After all, in the end, sport is about passion, and chess has that in spades.