original title：趙治勲 私の履歴書（7）最年少入段記録
Original article: The Nikkei
Author: Cho Chikun, Honorary Meijin
During the roughly five years I spent at the Kitani Dojo, I didn’t study much, but living with exceptional seniors like Ishida Yoshio and Masao Kato, sharing meals and daily life with them, helped me accumulate some skills. After a year of intense study, I began to be able to win against them.
In the promotion exam at the age of 11, I successfully passed the preliminary rounds and entered the round-robin tournament among 17 insei (apprentice professionals). Before that, even with a two-stone handicap, I couldn’t defeat my senior, Kunio Inoue. But this time, I managed to beat him. With one game remaining, I had a record of 11 wins and 4 losses.
While I felt fairly confident, I didn’t know how many people would actually qualify for professional status. My final opponent had almost entirely lost all his matches and told me, “I have no chance of qualifying, so I’ll let you win,” and true to his word, he resigned quickly. In the end, I ranked second and successfully achieved professional status.
I later heard that a relatively large number of players were promoted that year, and I had actually already secured my promotion well before the final match. Although I thanked my opponent for the last game, it turns out it wasn’t necessary. Nevertheless, I was fortunate to have caught a year with more promotions than usual. It was truly a stroke of luck that I became a professional that year.
I was promoted to professional status at the age of 11 years and 9 months, which was the youngest record at the time. Nowadays, both the Nihon Ki-in and Kansai Ki-in have introduced new systems for recruiting Go players, and there are now professionals as young as 9 years old. However, the record for the youngest professional player in the traditional sense still hasn’t been broken. For me, though, the regret of not achieving professional status at 10 years old is more profound than the joy of doing so at 11.
After becoming a professional player, there was no requirement to leave the Kitani Dojo. Even someone like Ishida Yoshio, who had won titles, continued to live at the dojo. So, my daily life didn’t change much, but being recognized as an independent player within the dojo made me very happy.
At the Kitani Dojo, we disciples often played softball on the grounds of a nearby junior high school. Most of the seniors were eight or nine years older than me, and I was always considered the runt of the group. Although I was occasionally allowed to bat, if I got out, it didn’t count, which frustrated me. To get better, I would sometimes practice catching the ball against the park wall.
However, once I became a professional, the way I was treated changed immediately. I was considered one of the team members, and if I struck out, it was recorded as such. Despite the age difference, once I became a professional player, everyone was equal. Being recognized as a professional player made me incredibly happy.
Professional matches started with the "Oteai." At that time, there were fewer tournaments, and the "Oteai" was the place where players earned their livelihood and advanced their ranks. Matches between players of similar ranks became a regular occurrence.
I was promoted to professional status in April, and after losing my first two matches in the "Oteai," I went on to win six consecutive games. In November, I was promoted from 1-dan to 2-dan. Being able to play as a professional made me very happy, and I could feel myself improving with each game. This period was a truly wonderful time in my life. Shortly thereafter, in the five years between 2-dan and 5-dan, I achieved a record of 33 consecutive wins in the "Oteai."
After experiencing the possibility of being sent back home and enduring life-and-death matches, my playing style also changed. I began to fully utilize my time. Before that, I played quickly and almost without thought, but from that time on, I learned to think more carefully.
The long-suppressed energy within me finally exploded in a positive direction.
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