originial site：https://www.nikkei.com/article/DGXZQOUD158QO0V10C24A4000000/
original title：趙治勲 私の履歴書（12）名人挑戦
Original article: The Nikkei
Author: Cho Chikun, Honorary Meijin
The story may seem a bit out of sequence, but the year I won the Oza title in 1976 was also a significant turning point for the entire Go world (Cho marriaed in 1977). The previous year 1975, the sponsorship of the Meijin tournament had shifted from Yomiuri Shimbun to Asahi Shimbun (Shimbun means newspaper, in Japan, go tounrament is sponsored by news company), prompting Yomiuri Shimbun to establish the new Kisei tournament (the greatest go tournament). I'm not entirely sure of all the details, but as a result, the prize money for various Go tournaments increased, allowing professional players to make a living through their tournament earnings (basically 1975-1990 was the golden age of Japan's economy, and so as the Japanese go world). This development coincided with my emergence in the professional Go scene, which was crucial for me.
In 1979, two years after I got married, I moved from Kamakura in Kanagawa Prefecture to Kisarazu in Chiba Prefecture, on the recommendation of a friend. That year, I took the Gosei title from Hideyuki Otake and entered the Honinbo league. The following year, 1980, I also achieved good results in the Meijin league, which I had been participating in for four years. I finished with a record of 6 wins and 2 losses and won the playoff to become the challenger.
I have always had a deep affection for the Meijin title. When I was a child, my father or a neighbor’s uncle once told me, “When you grow up, you should become a Meijin.” At a press conference when I was promoted to 5-dan, I boldly declared, “I didn’t come to Japan to become a 5-dan; I came to become a Meijin.” This statement attracted a lot of attention and had a significant impact on me.
In fact, I personally liked the title “Meijin” very much, feeling that it was a title given to the best of the best, and I kept that in my heart.
At that time, the Meijin title was still held by Hideyuki Otake. Although I had defeated him in the Oza match four years earlier and in the Gosei match the previous year, he had taken the Gosei title back from me in a recent defense match, proving himself to still be a formidable opponent.
This was my first time participating in a two-day best-of-seven series. I remember feeling relieved after winning the first game. When I went into the fourth game with a 2-1 lead, an “incident” occurred.
To briefly explain the rules, in Go, there is a situation called a “ko,” where both players can repeatedly capture each other’s stones. To prevent an endless loop, the rules require that a player must make a move elsewhere, known as a “ko threat,” before recapturing the same stone.
In the endgame phase, I entered a 60-second countdown. While deeply focused, I became unsure whether I needed to find a ko threat or could simply capture the stone. So, I asked the recorder, “Can I capture the ko now?” and received the answer, “Yes.” I immediately captured the opponent’s stone, only for Otake to realize that this was incorrect.
According to the rules, I should have lost the game in that situation. Internally, I felt that if that ruling were made, I would have to accept it. However, the referee, Yoshio Ishida, ruled the game as “no result.” At that time, players had the right to ask the recorder such questions. Although some fans, who were unclear about the situation, criticized me, Otake expressed his understanding.
Afterward, this match led to a change in the rules, clearly stating that the recorder is not responsible for the player’s moves, and a dual-recording system was implemented for title matches.
There is actually a follow-up to this story. A few years ago, when my game collection was being prepared, it was decided to include this match. However, during the proofreading process, I was shocked to discover that the book stated that when I captured the ko, “Otake was in the lead.” If that were true, it would mean that I had caused an “incident” when I was at a disadvantage, forcing the game to a draw—a nearly criminal act for a Go player, something worthy of committing seppuku (Seppuku (切腹, lit. 'cutting [the] belly'), is a form of Japanese ritualistic suicide by disembowelment). Because of this, I lost trust in the commentator and author, and I canceled the publication of the game collection.
In reality, when the game was ruled “no result,” I was clearly in a winning position.
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