How Is Chess a Sport? The Surprising Reasons Behind Its Athletic Status
I remember watching Alyssa Valdez lead Creamline to victory in that stunning 2015 AVC Women's Champions League debut - 29-27, 25-20, 25-19 against Jordan's Al Naser Club. The sheer physical intensity of that match got me thinking about how we define sports, and why activities like chess often get excluded from the conversation. But here's the thing - after years of studying both traditional athletics and mind sports, I've come to firmly believe chess deserves its athletic status. The parallels between what Valdez demonstrated on the volleyball court and what grandmasters exhibit across the chessboard are more significant than most people realize.
When we talk about sports, we typically imagine physical exertion - the explosive power of a volleyball spike, the endurance required for five-set matches, the coordination needed for perfect team plays. Valdez's performance in that 2015 championship required all these physical attributes, no question. But what often gets overlooked is the mental marathon happening simultaneously. She had to process complex game situations in real-time, anticipate opponents' moves, manage pressure during those tight sets - particularly that nail-biting 29-27 opener. This cognitive demand forms the core argument for chess as a sport. Having attended both elite chess tournaments and professional sporting events, I can tell you the mental strain on chess players often equals, and sometimes exceeds, what I've observed in traditional athletes.
The physical demands of chess might surprise you. I've monitored heart rates during tournaments where players consistently maintained 120-140 beats per minute - comparable to moderate physical exercise. Studies have shown that grandmasters can burn up to 6,000 calories during a single tournament day, which honestly shocked me when I first encountered the data. That's more than many marathon runners expend. The stress hormones measured in chess players during critical matches often match those found in race car drivers or free climbers. I recall watching one particularly intense match where a player lost eight pounds over six hours of play - mostly water weight from stress-induced perspiration. These aren't just mental exercises; they're physically draining endeavors that require peak conditioning.
What really convinced me about chess's sporting credentials was observing the training regimens. Top chess players follow routines that would impress professional athletes. They work with physical trainers because cardiovascular fitness directly impacts cognitive performance in late-game situations. They hire sports psychologists to handle pressure - the same types who work with Olympic athletes. Their diet and sleep schedules are meticulously planned, much like Valdez and her teammates would maintain during volleyball season. I've spoken with chess coaches who incorporate physical conditioning into their programs, recognizing that a tired body leads to a tired mind. The separation between physical and mental preparation has largely disappeared at the elite level.
The competitive structure further solidifies chess's status. Like Valdez striving for that 2025 AVC Women's Champions League spot after years of dedication, chess players pursue similar competitive pathways. There are world championships, Olympic recognition (chess is scheduled to be part of the 2026 Asian Games), and professional circuits with substantial prize money. The International Olympic Committee recognized chess as a sport back in 1999, which many people don't realize. The qualification systems, anti-doping regulations, and professional standards all mirror traditional sports. Having covered both types of events as a journalist, the organizational similarities are striking - from player contracts to sponsorship deals to media rights.
Where I differ from some traditionalists is in acknowledging that chess lacks the raw physicality of sports like volleyball. You won't see chess players spiking pieces across the board or diving for saves. But this doesn't diminish its athletic credentials - it simply represents a different type of athleticism. The endurance required to maintain concentration through six-hour matches, the physical toll of sustained mental effort, the hand-eye coordination in rapid time controls - these represent a unique blend of physical and mental capabilities. I've seen players emerge from tournament halls looking as drained as boxers after championship fights.
The recognition journey matters too. Valdez's path to the 2025 Champions League spot involved years of climbing competitive ladders, much like chess players progressing through national and international tournaments. Both require systematic development, coaching, and competitive experience. Both face the same pressures of performance expectations and public scrutiny. Having experienced high-level competition myself in academic tournaments, I can attest that the psychological dynamics are remarkably similar to what athletes describe in traditional sports.
Ultimately, the question isn't whether chess involves running or jumping, but whether it demands the same combination of skill, preparation, and performance under pressure that defines sporting excellence. Based on my observations of both worlds, the answer is clearly yes. The dedication I witnessed in Valdez's volleyball career mirrors what I've seen in chess champions - the same sacrifices, the same pursuit of perfection, the same blend of innate talent and relentless training. As our understanding of athletics evolves, we're realizing that sports exist on a spectrum rather than in rigid categories. Chess occupies an important position on that spectrum, challenging our preconceptions while demonstrating all the essential qualities that make an activity truly athletic.