Dries Buytaert

When I was about 10 years old, my uncle gave me a chess computer. It was the "Kasparov Team-Mate Advanced Trainer", released in 1988. More than 35 years later, I still have it. Last night I was lucky enough to have dinner with the man whose name is on that device.

Garry Kasparov is one of the greatest chess players of all time. He was the number one chess player in the world for 21 years and became famous for his matches against IBM's Deep Blue. Since retiring from chess, he has become a prominent advocate for democracy, even running against Putin in 2008.

During our conversation, Garry broke the news that Grandmaster Daniel Naroditsky had passed away unexpectedly. He was only 29. The news stopped me cold. For a moment, I just sat there, trying to process it.

I've probably watched every video Daniel Naroditsky published on his YouTube channel over the past four years. His videos made me fall in love with chess in a way I never had before. I was drawn not only to his mastery but to how generously he shared it. His real achievement wasn't his chess rating but how many people he made better.

Here I was, sitting across from the chess legend whose computer first introduced me to the game as a child, learning about the sudden loss of the person who reignited that passion decades later. One sitting in front of me, very much alive and passionately debating. The other suddenly gone.

It's strange how we can form connections with people we never meet. Through a name on a device, through videos we watch online, they become a part of our lives. When you meet one in person, the excitement is real. When you learn another has died, so is the grief.

I left that dinner thinking about the strangeness of it all. Two people who shaped my relationship with chess, colliding in one unexpected evening.