US Chess Championship: Wesley So and Awonder Liang Stay Perfect in the Early Rounds

In the latest round of the US Chess Championship, the scoreboard carries two names on perfect scores: Wesley So and Awonder Liang. In a round-robin event where every opponent sits within everyone else's preparation, passing the early rounds without dropping half a point is uncommon. The crowd has started calling it a devastating run of form. I pause for a beat, because in chess "perfect" is an incomplete state. It does not yet tell us who the opponents were, what their ratings are, or whether the wins came from strength or from a mistake on the other side of the board. The US Chess Championship is a national event, run as a round-robin, where the title is decided over a long course rather than by knockout. It sits outside the world championship qualification cycle and does not grant a Candidates spot; it functions as a prestige ritual for American chess, carrying rating and sponsorship value. The broader context is worth noting. American chess is in a phase of rare depth: Caruana, So, Nakamura, Dominguez - four names that have touched 2700. Below them sits a rising tier with Liang, Yoo, Mishra. The way this chess nation develops talent also differs from the rest: much of it comes from the online platform ecosystem, where players compete and produce content at the same time. That is a model where commerce funds expertise, rather than state budgets funding results. For a young player, holding a perfect score is more worth tracking than a former champion doing the same. So has been at the top for years; a good start is consistent with his class, not a new discovery. Liang is different. If he sustains this pace over more rounds, the developmental signal will carry real weight. The round-robin format is the driest starting point. Early on, the number of games played is small, so the probability of a player staying perfect is far higher than late in the event. In other words, a perfect score in round three or four is not a forecast; it is a small data sample. Based on my experience following matches, an indicator only means something when we know how many observations it was measured on and what benchmark it is compared against. In chess, the more honest measure is the performance rating. It compares a player's actual score against the rating of each opponent in each game, then reduces it to a single value. One player can win every game against a weak field and reach a 2500 performance; another can score four wins and a draw against a 2700 field and reach 2800. Reading a win streak while ignoring opponent quality is misreading the map. With the data available - no ratings, no round count, no opponent names - any conclusion about the strength of So or Liang must remain a hypothesis. The most interesting part of the story lies elsewhere: the generational structure of American chess. When a national event gathers four players who have crossed 2700 while a rising tier is emerging, we are looking at a system that produces talent, not merely a few exceptional individuals. This depth is hard to copy, and it explains why American chess remains in the leading group for elite density, even as India closes the gap very quickly at the youth level. In another corner of the board, there is a technical problem worth raising. After 1.d4 d5, once Black is ready to enter main lines such as the Slav or the Queen's Gambit, White can entirely sidestep the heavy theory with less ambitious systems: the Colle, Trompowsky, Torre, and London. That is a way of playing that bets on solidity rather than seizing an advantage. For the Black player, preparing for each system is a heavy cost, because each demands its own plan. Black's preparation problem is not about calculation speed; it is about how they redraw the map of options from the very second move. I raise this not to promote any product. Some chess courses are marketed by calling those systems "extremely dangerous." That is sales language, not a technical measurement. The Colle or the London is not dangerous in an objective sense; they are irritating in a practical sense, because they strip Black of the chance to play the strengths they prepared. A product that teaches how to handle them is useful, but useful as a defensive map, not as a declaration of an absolute threat. Tactics only become complete when told in language players dare to believe. This is where a contrarian view is needed. The crowd's instinct is to read a win streak as strength, and to read an advertised product as a solution. Both are inferences from a small sample. A player who wins the first few rounds is not certain to take the title; a set of materials calling those systems dangerous is not certain to be the best study resource. The blind spot is that we tend to measure by what is easy to see - a win streak, an advertising line - instead of what decides: opponent quality and the consistency of the method. Not where the ball stands, but where the ball is about to fall, is the real spatial piece. Chess is the same: what is worth tracking is not the current points column, but the quality of upcoming opponents and how a player handles pressure as the data sample grows. For Liang, the question is whether he holds his pace against the strongest opponents. For American chess, the question is whether the rising tier turns depth into lasting strength. A game only answers when we ask the right question. Tonight's scoreboard will change, but how a chess nation develops its next generation changes far more slowly - and that is the part worth measuring.