NewsMarch 23, 2024
The prosecutor's gambit: Building a chess dynasty
The topic is Petrov's Defense. Chris Shelton sits at a table in a Jackson High School laboratory classroom. He's wearing a navy blue suit, white shirt and diamond-patterned red-and-blue tie. A bespectacled Jackson freshman sits across from him, wearing a black Guns N' Roses T-shirt...
The topic is Petrov's Defense.
Chris Shelton sits at a table in a Jackson High School laboratory classroom. He's wearing a navy blue suit, white shirt and diamond-patterned red-and-blue tie. A bespectacled Jackson freshman sits across from him, wearing a black Guns N' Roses T-shirt.
A chess board sits between them.
The Petrov opening. It's when the opponent moves the pawn in front of the king, then moves his knight out in the second move. The defense is to mirror the knight. If you don't, Shelton explains, your opponent could use a series of moves to obtain an advantage and put you in a defensive posture. The idea behind the defense is to neutralize the knight and force the opponent take another approach.
It's two weeks before Missouri's high school state chess tournament. Young players are still learning basic openings and defenses in the after-school club. Progress happens one move at a time.
Officially Shelton is one of four coaches or sponsors, alongside Andrew Helle, Keenan Kinder and Kenton Roekenhaus. But Shelton is the expert. He refuses to brag of himself, because he knows his place in the chess world, and it's not among the greats.
But he knows the game.
Two years ago, Andrew Helle, the high school's club sponsor dynamo, asked him to start a chess club.
Shelton knew the stakes. He would need to pour his love of the game into teenagers. He'd have to convince them, as he had learned himself, to sacrifice their egos and be willing to lose thousands of times in order to learn and improve. In turn, he'd need to sacrifice his own time drawing up lessons and spend most Wednesday afternoons in the presence of awkward teenagers who might know nothing about the game.
He'd make early sacrifices for a bigger payoff down the road.
Call it the prosecutor's gambit.
When Helle explained his idea of the chess club, it didn't take long for Shelton to see an image in his mind, of young people building their chess knowledge. He thought about it, and told Helle, "Let's build a dynasty."
Shelton is well on his way, two years in, of building something interesting in Jackson.
He tells the team that the key to being good at chess is losing. Success in the chess world is earned through mistakes, recognizing patterns and learning from them. Online chess makes repetition possible. In that world, Shelton ranks in the 99th percentile in one online blitz ranking system and the 94th in another. His records show thousands of games played. More than 3,500 wins. More than 3,200 losses. Hundreds of draws. One of the data points shows he's spent 48 days playing the game. Shelton has won some over-the-board tournaments in his life, but he doesn't compete in many, because they require two days of weekend play, plus travel away from his family. So he spends time online against other players. He challenges his players to play a lot of online chess, but also warns them that in-person chess is very different.
At a tabletop across from a freshman, Shelton patiently walks through the player's moves, one at a time, giving praise when warranted, and options, and what those options could mean. This is a post-mortem evaluation of a game already played.
In a later conversation with another player, Shelton asks the student why he made a move. The student responded with a timid answer. He was hoping his opponent would make a mistake.
"We don't hope in chess," Shelton tells him. Shelton explains that, ideally, each move invokes a calculated response, one that can be anticipated. Sure, the opponent may choose among options, but the calculation is to invoke the response you want, to which you've already decided a countermove.
The room is surprisingly loud as the players, mostly boys, talk over their chess boards. Some are talking about their previous matches. Some are standing around a table talking trash. Some are laughing at something or another. Others are blocking out the noise, concentrating on pieces and trying to move up the club's ladder. The list of top players is hung on a whiteboard in the other science lab room across the hall. Players can challenge other players to move up the list. There is a sense of urgency as the state tournament lurks. Most of the players in the room only have one over-the-board tournament under their belts. The players note all their moves, a new-ish process that can be meticulous. Columbia will host these players in less than two weeks in the 2024 Missouri State Scholastic Chess Championships, organized by the Missouri Chess Association. Shelton's voice is barely audible over the commotion.
Jackson's high school club is in just its second year. Jackson had a good showing at state last year, an overall fifth-place finish. But this year's squad is ridiculously young. There are 18 players in the club. Seven freshmen. Six sophomores. Four seniors. One junior.
There's a long, long way to go before the school can be considered a chess powerhouse. Players are still learning basics. But the room is full and buzzing, and the students are having fun. Shelton is playing the long game. Year 2 is just the opening.
The prosecutor
It's a Thursday. Late morning. A few days before the tournament. Shelton is sitting in front of his computer at an L-shaped desk in a neat, tidy office. There is a small box on the floor, tucked away and barely in sight. File folders.
There are diplomas on the wall. University of Missouri graduate, school of law. Pictures of his two children, Elizabeth and Andrew. Another of him and his wife, Katrina. There's a childhood painting of the columns at Mizzou. A plaque with "The Man in the Arena" quote by Teddy Roosevelt.
It's quiet. Insulated. The office decor is neither modern nor pretentious. It's situated away from other people, behind a handful of security guards and metal detectors at the building entrance, up three floors, down a hallway, through a reception area and down another hallway. The office is modest in size, but tall ceilings make it airy and comfortable. Large windows behind him allow natural light to accentuate the beige walls and brown tones of the wooden desk, which is free of clutter. Everything not needed is put away.
It's been a good morning already. Shelton, along with all the other players of the court system, put the finishing touches on a felon-in-possession-of-a-firearm case. The convict received a sentence of 46 months in prison. He was a previously violent offender. Shelton said felon gun-possession cases are probably the most common criminal cases they work in the federal court criminal system.
Shelton has worked here for a couple of years now as a federal assistant prosecutor. His role, much like other federal prosecutors, draws little public attention. In February, a news release said Shelton prosecuted a man convicted of setting fires to federal and private land. While local county prosecutors typically work murder and other high-profile violent cases, federal prosecutors are more limited in the cases they work, depending on the type of crime and jurisdiction. Primarily they prosecute those who commit weapons offenses, such as felons with guns or those who try to manufacture automatic weapons; they also work big drug cases. For example, Shelton has been intimately involved in a drug conspiracy case from the Sikeston and Charleston areas where 25 suspects were arrested for participating in criminal street gang activities. The investigation included at least 10 law enforcement jurisdictions. The chess coach has been working hard with several others to take down one of the largest drug operations in Southeast Missouri. In another hour or two, one of the main dealers in that operation will appear in court for an arraignment. Shelton, a former county prosecutor, enjoys the job in the federal courts. Moreso than Missouri cases, he can help build a case rather than try to make the most of one that's been handed to him. In such an environment, he can inform investigators of what is needed for conviction, and they can continue their work to meet the prosecutorial requirements. Shelton says in federal court, through the grand jury process, they don't indict people when they have probable cause. They indict when they believe conviction is certain. Like a good chess player, the federal prosecutors don't operate with hope. An indictment is essentially checkmate. The opponent's only good move? A plea deal.
Shelton's world crosses paths with chaos and violence that completely contradict his personality. Wednesday afternoons at the high school are a highlight of his week. A loud room of teenage chess players is a welcome reprieve.
The 35-year-old didn't always want to be a prosecutor. He wanted to be a history professor. Three years into college, he decided against that path, and instead decided to join the U.S. Army.
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Shelton's matter-of-fact mannerisms reflect his analytical mind. It's easy to see why he would be drawn to a life in the military, where rules and discipline provide the framework for every assignment. It's harder to imagine the reserved chess coach navigating the chaos of a battlefield. But that's what he signed up for. He served three years. He was dispatched to Afghanistan, and it was in a moment of chaos in 2012 that he found clarity and purpose.
It wasn't a battle. It wasn't an injury sustained by a roadside bomb. But it was an Afghan man seeking emergency medical treatment for a mangled leg that helped set Shelton on his path. Shelton thinks the man's injury was sustained in a farming accident.
Shelton and others tried to help the man get medical care. But he told them, "Don't pretend like you care." The man told Shelton and others they were only there temporarily and didn't care about the people of Afghanistan. Shelton took the cynical statement to heart. Something about that interaction sparked something in his mind. He began to ask himself questions about purpose, not just for himself but his country.
"What sets our country apart?" he asked himself.
From his office inside the grand federal courthouse on Independence Street in Cape Girardeau, Shelton answers the question simply, matter-of-factly.
"It's the rule of law."
Playing blind
It's 5:15 a.m., Saturday, March 16.
One by one, the chess players arrive, carrying backpacks over their shoulders and pillows under their arms. A big day lies ahead. First, a four-hour drive to Columbia, then chess matches to see how they stack up against other players. They lumber onto the bus one-by-one in the darkness.
Shelton isn't on the bus. He's already in Columbia, where he'll meet some former colleagues from the Boone County Prosecutor's Office for breakfast. After, he'll reunite with the chess players.
The boys climbing the bus steps probably don't know how Shelton became a local chess legend on a bus just like this one.
Shelton is embarrassed to offer the story. He rolls his eyes, but grins sheepishly when asked about it. It was first shared with a reporter by Helle, the man who recruited Shelton to take on this chess coaching gig. Shelton filled in some gaps.
When he was a member of the high school soccer team traveling to faraway games, Shelton would bring a chess board on the bus. It was a travel board -- the pieces have pegs in them to keep them on the board. The soccer team members knew no one could beat Shelton in an over-the-board match, so they modified the parameters. Players would sit with the board in the back of the bus, and Shelton would sit several seats in front of them. Shelton would play blind, only being told the coordinates of each move. He would play the game in his head, not too different than what was depicted on the award-winning television series "The Queen's Gambit". Shelton had read so much about the game, he had played enough games, that he could see the game in his head -- as a teenager. He would win games without touching or seeing the pieces.
Shelton was something of a chess whiz as a child, growing up in Jackson. At age 5, after school, he found a chess game on the computer in his mother's classroom. He didn't know how the pieces moved, but he figured it out. The game would only let him move in certain ways. In the coming handful of years, barely able to read, he found books about chess history and strategy and began to read them. His first book was the Simon & Schuster "Pocket Book of Chess". He's read hundreds of chess books since. He became enthralled by the game's history and strategies. He remembers finding out how the world's best players approached the game. As a child, he didn't necessarily understand the deeper theory, but the possibilities enamored him.
The prosecutor plays by the rules. Works by the rules. He went to law school. Graduated. Got a job with the prosecuting attorney office in Columbia. He enjoyed history. And his game of choice is one of black pieces and white pieces and white squares and black squares on a square board.
But there's something about the game that brings out color in Shelton. When asked why he's drawn to the game, he doesn't use chess terms such as Petrov's Defense or en passant captures. He notes the game's "beauty". There is something about the framework, the rules, that allows for not just strategy, but creativity that he likes.
One of his favorite moments in "Queen's Gambit" is a nod to chess legend Bobby Fisher, a grandmaster and world champion from 1972 to 1975. A prodigy, Fisher was known for his opening. He played the same opening move every game, a calling card, up until the world championship match when he shocked everyone by taking a different strategy for the first time. Shelton said Fisher had prepared his entire life for this singular moment, where he would gain an advantage by having set up his opponent for years. Shelton's polished demeanor softens when speaking about the game this way. He's no longer spitting facts, but rather explaining how the game makes him feel.
Fisher was 14 years old when he won the first of eight U.S. championships.
Shelton is now teaching players of that age simple chess theory, giving them building blocks. One day, he hopes, they'll view chess as beautiful, too, and not just a zero-sum, black and white game.
The tournament
It's 9:31 p.m. the night of the tournament when the text arrives. It's Shelton.
"High school finished 7th. Our 9th graders finished 1st."
"STATE CHAMPS!!!"
Then, moments later.
"So, so proud!"
Teardrop emoji.
Days later, when the official results were posted, the high school team fell to ninth due to tiebreakers.
Shelton speaks in glowing terms of the chess culture in the St. Louis area. Billionaire Rex Sinquefield, a member of the U.S. Chess Hall of Fame, transformed St. Louis into the Chess Capital of the United States. Sinquefield founded the St. Louis Chess Club and is credited with introducing chess to more than 60,000 students. In 2013, St. Louis hosted its first Super Grandmaster tournament, and it's home to the World Chess Hall of Fame. Indeed St. Louis schools dominated the tournament, particularly Ladue.
Shelton is quick to point out that Jackson has not reached St. Louis standards in terms of chess, even at the freshman level. He points out there were only four freshman teams at the state tournament, and he thinks that some of the best of the freshmen might have played up on varsity levels.
But he says you can only win the games in front of you, and the freshmen did enough of that during their trip to Columbia to take first. The 18 chess players represented Jackson well, but the young crop showed more promise than Shelton expected. The gambit is showing dividends already.
But that's not even the most exciting part. While Shelton's understudies have been working on their openings and getting to understand more and more complicated strategies, a new club was formed this year at the junior high.
The seven freshmen accomplished something unexpected. The six sophomores are up and coming. But the new junior high team? That group numbers 50. Fifty.
Shelton talks about how the game of chess reveals its beauty in different ways.
Perhaps the most beautiful revelation has come in the form of a new generation of chess players emerging from Shelton's hometown.
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