> When attacked [In Chess] he seldom, if ever, defended his position, rather he attacked back. Such a method of playing soon produces a very interrelated board.

> When attacked [In Chess] he seldom, if ever, defended his position, rather he attacked back. Such a method of playing soon produces a very interrelated board. A truly brilliant former close acquaintance of mine plays an usual game of chess. He never directly attacks. He defends when he must. Most often his moves appear innocuous, even from a two or three move forward perspective. Interestingly this person reportedly grew up in a physically abusive home, brilliant but incapable of defending himself physically from his father. I'm told this brilliant but socially awkward boy was beaten severely as he grew up. As you play chess against him, as I have many times, you notice you are even or perhaps slightly ahead in pieces, but that your options are increasingly and alarmingly narrowing. It is only a few moves later you see the only moves available involve costly sacrifices and eventual loss. Today this man is among the most brilliant and successful businesspeople I know. He's philanthropic and active in local politics. I used to marvel and feel concern about the letters of complaint he received, the low opinion many had of him, and the many disputes he found himself a part of. But I never saw nor hear of him losing a business dispute, or suffering injury to his brand. When checkmate finally arrives in Chess with this man, it comes as a relief. The discomfort of being toyed with, even in a game, and being so hopelessly outclassed I find anxiety provoking. Having beaten him twice. Once ever in Chess, and once in a business dispute, I can tell you only that there was no joy in it, just an empty sort of feeling. >Deep emotional commitment seems to be necessary for success. It is immensely interesting to me the impact of negative emotions on brilliance and success. People driven to greatness by their fears or urge to overcome powerlessness. In particular I wonder how it impacts Hamming's most concerning claim: >Finally, I must at least address the question of whether greatness is worth the large effort it requires. Those who have done really great things generally report, privately, that it is better than wine, the opposite sex, and song put together. The realization that you have done it is overwhelming. It may be for the best that not all brilliant people achieve greatness, and that not most of us are not brilliant.