My Hammers’ Decade

by Matteo Bezzini

It started on a windy Saturday in August 2016, with a Google search from the room I was renting in leafy Parsons Green. At 28, I had moved to London the prior year, and SW6 had quickly become my new home.

I remember feeling optimistic about the world at the time, despite the ongoing wave of terrorist attacks, the Syrian war, ISIS, the never-ending conflict in Palestine, and tensions with Iran causing even more troubles in the Middle East. I remember hoping the nuclear agreement recently signed with the Ayatollah was going to stabilise the wider region. I was not sure what to think of the Crimean invasion, but I was hopeful European diplomacy was going to work.

Most importantly, I was feeling optimistic about my next chapters, the way my new life in The Big Smoke was shaping up and the opportunity to discover the big world that I was given. What a nice feeling walking through the Royal Parks, no longer as a low-budget tourist but as a ‘cool’ local resident. It made me feel like “I had made it” despite the sink full of my flatmates’ plates at home, the Oyster card top-ups and the £3.75 chicken wraps from Subway. Even adjusting to tasteless tomatoes felt acceptable.

I was excited by the renewed prospects of my investment banking career, waking up full of energy every day despite the frequent long nights in the office (working from home never an option at the time…). Because most of my peers were from a posher background, I used to feel like an ‘underdog’ (which I am aware is always a very relative concept…) in the elitist world of international finance. Yet I was very conscious that my determination, pragmatism and ‘street knowledge’ could make up for it.

I remember watching fellow Italian underdog Claudio Ranieri showing me the way; it could not have been a coincidence that his Leicester FC played their last and celebratory fixture of that crazy Premier League season at Stamford Bridge (next to my new home, basically) on 15 May (my birthday!). Maybe some god up there just appeared under the guise of Jamie Vardy to remind me, and all of us underdogs, to never give up and keep believing? I was loving it all. The dream of having a well-respected job abroad, meeting a Zoe Saldaña lookalike from the other side of the world, and living happily ever after felt possible for the first time. Very real. At times, easily achievable.

That is why the June events that year had come as a shock. It is still vivid in my mind, the profound confusion on waking up on 24 June: before I could even warm up to it, my new life as a European on the island was already in jeopardy, and so were my dreams. I had no idea what was going to happen next, and listening to David Cameron’s resignation speech that morning did not help.

I remember the commute to work that day as the strangest ever. So many bewildered faces on that District Line platform: it was certainly going to be a long day, probably a long year, possibly a long decade. The best part of the summer had gone by figuring out if staying long term was the right thing to do – was it even going to be possible? It was probably just a matter of time before the continental bank I worked for sent me back to base (at best) or included me in a plan of redundancies (at worst). As you can imagine, it was a recurring discussion with my friends and colleagues.

On that windy Saturday, we had had Jamaican jerk chicken from the North End Road market with some of them after our weekly seven-a-side football game between colleagues. Strangely, Brexit had not been the main discussion topic that day, as this guy couldn’t stop talking about his new cryptocurrency thing. He seemed ready to quit the job and become a full-time “crypto investor”, thus “beating the system” (in his vocabulary).

We had spent an hour providing him with all the rational economic arguments on why such a ‘thing’ would never become a real currency (we were right) and how it was clearly going to be a bubble that would burst in a matter of months (we were very wrong…if you, like me, made the absolutely right and financially sound decision never to invest a penny in Bitcoin and similar cryptocurrencies, please do yourself a favour and DO NOT check the 10-year return had £1,000 been invested in that crap in August 2016. Unlike yours truly, who just asked Claude whilst writing this piece…).

But yeah, I had to acknowledge the world was turning crazier by the day, and what if this Donald Trump guy was actually going to become the 45th president of the United States? Before going home, I stopped by the Ladbrokes shop next door and ended up winning some money in November that year; sometimes I wonder what the odds would have been that day if I had bet on a second mandate eight years later (this one, not even Claude knows…).

Finding the Hammers

As it must be clear by now, my brain and soul desperately needed a hobby to distract me. It was walking home that day that I thought to myself I could start playing chess more frequently and intentionally. My dad had taught me the basics as a kid, but he got bored quickly, none of my friends could play and my love for football and videogames (first) and puberty (later) did not leave much room for anything else. Only a few online games later in my 20s, but always to ‘fill the time’ and never taken too seriously.

I thought perhaps I could play face to face in some real competitions, do some real studying, read books, watch grandmasters’ games, hopefully improve. It could become a real hobby, but for it to work I needed a real club with real people. Once back in my room I switched on my laptop and inserted the magic words “Chess+Club+West+London” in the browser. I was immediately captured by Andy Routledge’s infallible web, pushing Hammersmith Chess Club’s website to the top of the page. One quick enquiry and I was told everything I needed to know: “Monday 7pm, see you there”.

The Albion, where Matteo first met the Hammers in August 2016.

And there I was 48 hours later at The Albion pub in W14. The Club’s official home at the time was the small tenants’ hall of Lytton Estate in North End Crescent. But with only about 30 members and shaky finances, the Club could not afford to pay the rent for the full year, hence the weekly summer gatherings were moving just a few blocks down the road to this nicely decorated pub (I instantly loved the pragmatism of this choice).

I was welcomed by the red, smiley face of Mike Mackenzie – the Club’s Secretary at the time and one of the kindest people I have ever met. He could spot a newbie from miles away and the first game of my new chess adventure was a draw full of blunders against him. “How did you hear about us?” he asked me with some curiosity.

It was not a bad turnout that night, probably 15–20 adult men, with average age somewhere in the early forties, enjoying some casual games and an indefinite number of pints. I was so happy to be there playing one game after the other; my mind was finally free for a few hours. I ended the evening losing several times in a row to Carsten, to this day one of the Club’s strongest players. Nothing wrong with it, at least until he started playing blindfolded and visibly tipsy; yet still beating me badly each time. I couldn’t care less; chess was now in my life and boy, did I need it.

I paid my joining fee the same night. I was super excited. In addition to his PR effort, all-round Hammer stalwart John White was captaining the first team in the London League at the time. He welcomed me and said: “Matteo, after many years of struggle in lower ranks, last season we finally got promoted to the Third Division. We must avoid relegation at all costs. I count on you”. “Of course, John!”. A handshake worth more than a 1,000-page financing contract. No doubt, these Hammers too were underdogs and very determined to turn it around, just like me.

And that’s how I showed up for all twelve London League first-team games that season, most of them played at the old London League venue in Barbican: the infamous Golden Lane, a legendary place loved and hated by all London chess veterans. I can still hear the noise of chairs and tables being stacked up on the side at the end of the evening, creating unbearable playing conditions for those who were still running their analogue clocks down to the last second.

Leaving work at 6pm is no mean feat for a junior banker. I had to learn how to run fast in my Oxford shoes, and showing up to my board several minutes late, sweating and panting, became a ritual that I still perform these days, testing the patience of my friend Dave Lambert and the other team captains. On the positive side, my impeccable office attire earned me the nickname ‘The Suit’ in John’s unmissable match reports; luckily, one of the nicest nicknames he ever came up with.

Whenever I had the chance, I would peek at Bajrush (“Wily”)’s game on Board 1, wondering how he could possibly throw so many pawns to the fourth rank within the first ten moves, and still win all his games. In the end, relegation was avoided and my regular presence in the team earned me the “Player of the Season 2016/2017” award, a beautifully simple 15 × 20cm frame signed by Bajrush himself and Mike. To this day, it still stands out proudly on my bookshelf.

The award that still has pride of place on Matteo’s bookshelf.

We ended my first season as a Hammer with a fun Club trip to Amsterdam: in between drinks and other entertainments (no details will be provided on this part), we even found the time to beat one of the local chess clubs soundly and visit the Max Euwe Centre in the Leidseplein neighbourhood. After the visit, we stopped to play outdoor chess with giant pieces in the nearby square, where I was beaten by a random dude in front of the Saturday afternoon crowd and a bunch of other Hammers – all laughing at my silly response to a sloppy Bird’s Opening. Quite embarrassing, I have to say…

And, seriously, there is something especially frustrating about losing a chess game: no coach or referee to blame, no physical disadvantages that can explain a poor performance, not even the luck factor dictating cards, dice and certain other board games. It starts with the same 16 pieces and the same time control for each player, and it is all about brain and preparation. Which is the exact reason why losing at it sucks so much more…

From player to treasurer

For the following couple of seasons my presence and activity with the Club decreased a little. A busier work schedule, family worries, and some lovesickness had turned my life a bit cloudy: after all, achieving all my dreams was not going to be that easy. But I was still playing some league games, and, like a true Hammer, always fighting tooth and nail on and off the board, in chess like in day-to-day life.

By the spring of 2019 – as Theresa and her Tories were still trying to find the ‘exit’, as well as explaining how a 24-storey residential building in Kensington could go entirely ablaze within minutes – the Club had grown rapidly and significantly. Adam, John and the other volunteering Hammer heroes were desperate for additional help to keep up with the Club’s expansion, and I felt it was time for me to step in.

With little in-person time available but great number skills, I put forward my candidacy for the role of Treasurer, as my friend Chris Moore was stepping down after years of honourable service. I was elected at the incoming AGM at Lytton Hall; none of us there would have known it was going to be the last AGM held in such a mystic venue…

Stepping into my new role and onto the Club’s committee, I could witness first-hand the astonishing transformation we were experiencing. A constant stream of new joiners, frequent events and ‘chess trips’, a Junior Hour attended by an increasing number of youngsters, several lectures each year with top-class guests, including true chess legends of the likes of GM Danny King and GM Nigel Short (it remains memorable the one time we accidentally locked the 1993 World Championship finalist inside the venue for a good 30 minutes at night, thinking that everyone, including him of course, had left the building after his mesmerising lecture…).

Fellow club members can thank yours truly for suggesting the 2019/2020 membership price increase to £80 (sorry, guys!). To give you an idea, not even a global pandemic was able to slow us. Whilst weekly in-person gatherings and all chess competitions had to be cancelled until further notice (after all, the NHS Covid-19 guidelines did not include as a recommendation “to sit down for several hours with strangers in a closed space packed with aged people breathing in each other’s face and touching the same objects”), the Hammers even accelerated their growth, thanks to strong online and social media presence, impeccable organisation, The Queen’s Gambit, and the boredom affecting everyone.

A new home

It was during lockdown that we were presented with the opportunity to move the Club’s home to the London Mindsports Centre in Dalling Road, just a minute’s walk from Ravenscourt Park tube station. Moving there would have meant relocating to an easily accessible, newly refurbished, ‘state-of-the-art’ venue in Hammers’ turf with enough space to accommodate the surging number of members, multiple rooms, nice toilets and a refreshment area – in essence, the things we needed to become and be part of a proper, diverse cultural hub.

However, it would also have meant more than doubling our costs with a multi-year rent commitment that only continued growth in memberships and volunteers could sustain. Believe me, it was not an obvious choice at the time, with all the uncertainty around the pandemic and the memory of the ‘30-member Third Division club’ we had been just three or four years prior. I like to think the financial projections put together by the conscientious Treasurer helped the Committee get comfortable with taking the brave, right decision.

The Club’s new home on Dalling Road.

By the time over-the-board chess had resumed, Hammersmith was already one of the largest chess clubs in the UK, destined to become what it is today:

● A thriving membership: over 250 members with remarkable gender and age diversity, now running two club nights a week at the Mindsports Centre and fielding over 20 teams in the various leagues, including women’s and junior teams.

● London League success: runners-up in the First Division for several years in a row, finishing only behind professional club Wood Green but inflicting a loss on them on 23 April 2024, something the veterans of the London chess circuit had been waiting for 22 long years.

● Two teams at the top: starting the 2026/27 season with two teams in the First Division of the London League, something no club in London has done in recent history.

● A world title: winning the U2200 category at the FIDE World Rapid Team Championship in June 2025, a fantastic achievement far greater than the (still pleasant) €5,000 prize.

● National recognition: winning the prestigious 2025 Club of the Year award from the English Chess Federation – a consecration for the job done through the years by all members and volunteers who dedicated their precious time to the cause.

● Charitable status: finally securing the Club’s legal status as a registered charity, something that protects its purpose and position for the years to come.

Writing this article has been a trip to the past and an opportunity for self-reflection. What a success story the last decade was for the Hammers! Totally unimaginable for Mike and all of us that night at The Albion…

Ten years on

Perhaps not as much as the Club, but I have also grown a lot in this decade. After all, I was able to build a better career than I could even imagine, and I feel both proud and lucky about it. The CV I used in my last application said “Italian and British citizen” at the top, as I did recite my pledge in 2022, just in time for it to happen in front of a portrait of Lillibet. The same CV was also displaying proudly the title of “Hammersmith Chess Club Treasurer” at the bottom. I like to think it helped me secure my current job that I love.

Then in 2024, after five years of duty, it was time for me to pass the torch to my friend Christof, the wisest of us all and undoubtedly the best possible successor for that role. I no longer buy chicken wraps, but I suppose they no longer cost £3.75.

Among things that have not changed in ten years, there is the (non-)taste of tomatoes in this country and my mind constantly thinking about the world. I read that the same folks who pushed for a Brexit vote ten years ago are now campaigning for the next general election and are likely to win. Another FT article shows the now 47th President of the United States is again campaigning for a November election; this time I don’t have the strength to look at the odds…I smile bitterly reading that successful crypto investors are the ones funding these campaigns with hundreds of millions: after all, they want to keep close to the system they were supposed to ‘beat’.

Things for the Middle East and Eastern Europe couldn’t have gone worse: whilst those places were never doing so great in recent history, I could not have expected they would become vast lands where invasions, wars and genocides can be carried out unpunished and unsupervised. Climate disasters are intensifying heatwaves, wildfires, droughts…I am thinking that forcing the closure of hundreds of factories and plants in Europe has only boosted social unrest, calls for isolationism, racism, and extremist ideas. I fear the boom of AI use will further divide society. As you can probably tell, I am way less optimistic than I was ten years ago, and I wonder if it’s just me becoming increasingly cynical with age or if things are objectively worse. Probably both…

But I feel good and healthy. My close circle remains almost the same as ten years ago. My best friend moved to live here shortly after me and we see each other often. My little sister too moved here shortly after me, and she will make me an uncle soon. My mum comes to visit often and has now learnt how to navigate the London Underground. I feel grateful for all that.

I am now completely bald, yet embracing and loving the look. I wish my old man was still here to witness the slow transition into a familiar face and to read an Italian translation of this article. Some big loves have come and gone; others have come and will hopefully stay.

I am concluding this essay on another windy Saturday, this time from a different West London home that I happily share with my partner. We have been in love for a year now and things look promising. She says she doesn’t look much like Zoe Saldaña, but I beg to differ.

Whilst the future is uncertain, I can easily predict there will be other good, bad and neutral things happening, same as in the last decade and same as in chess: sometimes it’s a win, sometimes a draw, sometimes a loss. As always, I am planning to play with head held high knowing the most important thing is to show up and put up a fight each time, no matter what the result will be.

Like a true Hammer.