Let me start by confessing something: I do play chess. Not at a grandmaster level, not even close, but I know what it feels like to sit across from someone and have your entire world shrink to sixty-four squares. I know the knot in your stomach when you realize you just blundered a piece. I know the quiet thrill of finding a tactic you didn't see coming. So when I talk about Faustino Oro, I'm not just an admirer from the sidelines. I'm someone who has tasted the game, who knows how humbling and how beautiful it can be.
Faustino is twelve years old. Twelve. And he just became the second youngest grandmaster in history. Let that sink in. At an age when most of us were worrying about homework or video games, this kid is out there calculating variations that would make my head spin. I read that he started during the pandemic, like so many others, but unlike most, he didn't stop when things went back to normal. He kept going. By nine, he was already the youngest International Master ever. Now at twelve, he's breaking records and making Argentina proud in a way that goes beyond sports.
But here's the thing that gets me: he's not alone. There's Gukesh Dommaraju, the Indian teenager who became world champion at eighteen. There's Yağız Kaan Erdoğmuş, Roman Shogdzhiev, Luca Protopopescu. A whole generation of young minds redefining what's possible. And every time I see their faces in photos or videos, I don't see cold machines. I see kids. Kids who laugh, who get nervous, who probably forget their homework sometimes. Kids who happen to have a gift and the discipline to nurture it.
I think about what chess has given me personally. Patience, sure. The ability to think before acting, absolutely. But also something deeper: the acceptance that mistakes are part of the process. In chess, you can't hide. You make a move, and you live with it. You lose, and you learn. You win, and you stay humble because there's always someone better. That's a lesson that translates to everything else in life. And that's why I hope more people, young and old, give this game a chance. Not to become grandmasters. Just to grow.
I know that for many, chess still feels like a nerdy pursuit, something for geniuses or introverts. But that's not what I see when I watch these young players. I see resilience. I see creativity. I see kids who learn to handle pressure, who understand that losing a game doesn't mean losing your worth. And honestly, isn't that exactly what we all need more of? In a world that constantly pushes us to be faster, louder, and more distracted, chess offers a counterbalance. It invites you to sit still, to breathe, to think one move at a time.
I hope Faustino goes all the way. I hope he becomes world champion if that's his dream. I hope Gukesh and all the others keep pushing boundaries. But more than that, I hope chess becomes more present in our daily lives. In schools, in homes, in community centers. Because every time someone sits down to play, they're not just moving pieces. They're building focus, resilience, and a kind of quiet confidence that no screen can give.
And yes, I'm writing this in English because that's what reaches the widest audience here. It's the language that connects us across borders, and that matters when you're talking about something as universal as the human need to think deeply and grow patiently.
Maybe you play. Maybe you don't. Either way, I hope you feel what I feel when I watch these young players: hope. Hope that the next generation values depth over speed, thought over impulse, and the simple joy of a well-played game. That's the world I want to live in. And chess, in its quiet way, is helping us build it.