Carlsen Calls Gukesh the Underdog: The Psychological Trap in the World Chess Championship

I still remember that night in Tokyo 2026, when Karsten Warholm stormed through the final hurdles and broke his own limits. Sitting in Da Nang, I replayed the slow-motion footage twenty times, counting each stride between barriers. Yet now, in a sport without the sound of spikes on track, I see a similar moment. Magnus Carlsen, who held the world chess crown for a decade, has just made a striking assessment: Javokhir Sindarov is the stronger favourite over D Gukesh in the upcoming World Chess Championship. A youngest champion in history is being placed as the underdog. A challenge from Uzbekistan. And a bigger question: has elite chess become more a psychological game than a pure battle on 64 squares? The match between D Gukesh, the reigning world champion from India, and Javokhir Sindarov, Uzbekistan's top player, will be the focus of the global chess community. Carlsen, who stepped away from the title race but remains one of the most influential voices, calls Sindarov the clear favourite, while Gukesh is the underdog with a higher ceiling. This is not the first time Carlsen has made controversial assessments. He has criticised the championship format as 'extraordinarily bad' for determining the best player, because too many draws can blur the value of the crown. With a match expected to last many classical games, possibly up to 14 and decided by tiebreaks, the story is not just about who calculates deeper. It is also about who endures better, who keeps a cool head over a long, tense stretch. Gukesh made history as the youngest world champion, a milestone that made India proud. Sindarov, from Uzbekistan, has emerged as one of the most well-rounded players of the new generation, alongside Nodirbek Abdusattorov, forming a golden generation of Central Asian chess. Both belong to the young elite, but their paths to this match are very different. Gukesh is the defender, having to prove his title was not a one-off. Sindarov is the challenger with nothing to lose, and according to Carlsen, that is no small psychological advantage. Notably, Carlsen did not offer specific Elo numbers or statistical evidence. He spoke about psychology, about momentum, about how a player handles pressure when trailing. According to Carlsen, if Gukesh falls behind early, coming back will be extremely difficult. Conversely, if Gukesh wins a key game, Sindarov may begin to doubt himself. This is the kind of analysis I used to hear on the podcast 'Empty Stadium – The Unnamed People'. The stadium is empty, but the podcast taught me to listen to the match from within. What happens inside a player's mind is sometimes more important than any opening variation on the board. In elite sport, people often talk about speed, strength, technique. But in chess, speed is measured in milliseconds on the clock, and strength lies in endurance. Pulling back the curtain on speed, I met a whole generation on the run. That generation runs not only on tracks but also through chess games lasting six or seven hours. Gukesh and Sindarov, both just over twenty, represent a new wave: players from countries outside the traditional Western chess powers. India has long been a chess powerhouse with a large youth training system. Uzbekistan is rising strongly, and a Sindarov victory would put this Central Asian nation on the map of countries that have produced a world champion. Carlsen stressed that Gukesh has a higher ceiling. This is a thought-provoking assessment. A player's ceiling is not just the maximum Elo they can reach, but the limit of what they can do at peak form. Gukesh has proven he can win the world title at the youngest age. But to defend it, he needs to rediscover the version that took him to the top. That is a much harder task than conquering for the first time. Young champions often face the pressure of sustaining success, while challengers always draw motivation from being the underdog. Another point to consider: Carlsen has repeatedly criticised the championship format. He believes it is a poor way to determine the best player, because elite chess rules allow too many draws. If the Gukesh – Sindarov match ends with a narrow score or is decided by tiebreaks, questions about the legitimacy of the title will heat up again. Fans may ask: is the winner truly the best chess player in the world, or just the luckier one in a few moments? This is a systemic issue, not just about two players. But from another angle, the harshness of the format creates its own appeal. A multi-day match demands comprehensive preparation: opening, middlegame, endgame, physical condition, psychology, and the ability to recover from defeat. Unlike rapid events, where a small mistake can be punished immediately, a championship match gives both players time to correct errors. But it is also unforgiving to those who lose momentum. That is why Carlsen emphasised the early lead. In a marathon, the first runner may not win, but the one left behind often struggles to regain rhythm. I witnessed this at the 2026 SEA Games, when Nguyen Thi Oanh accelerated to win the 1,500m gold. The small girl from Bac Giang was not physically imposing, but she had an exceptional ability to endure pain and distribute her energy. In chess, energy distribution is replaced by time management and mental stamina. A player can strike decisively in game one or game eleven. The key is knowing when to attack, when to defend, and when to accept a draw to conserve strength. That is the art of controlling a match. In that context, Carlsen's assessment is more suggestive than conclusive. He sets a psychological trap: calling Gukesh the underdog. If Gukesh believes it, he may lose confidence. If Gukesh treats it as motivation, he may play the freest and most dangerous chess of his life. Conversely, Sindarov, being highly rated, may feel pressure to justify the praise. The smile of a young player also touches something in chess that is not on the scoreboard. At the top, sometimes the underestimated player is the most dangerous. Remember that Carlsen has often played psychological games before big matches. He may praise an opponent to reduce pressure on himself or to create external expectations. Calling Sindarov the favourite could be an indirect message to Gukesh: you need to prove otherwise. But it is also possible Carlsen genuinely believes Sindarov is in better form right now. Either way, his analysis reminds us that elite chess is not decided only by what happens on the board. A counterintuitive view: historically, reigning champions often perform well in their first title defence. They understand the pressure, they have experience with expectations, and they know how to handle criticism. Gukesh is not an ordinary champion. He broke Carlsen's own record to become the youngest to take the crown. Being called an underdog may be the first time in years he is not carrying the weight of the front-runner. Sometimes, that is the ideal position to explode. Of course, Sindarov's growth cannot be ignored. The Uzbek player is considered complete, stable, and highly adaptable. He has no obvious weakness, and in recent years he has made significant progress. If Sindarov capitalises on the early psychological advantage, he could build a gap quickly. But if Gukesh withstands the pressure and wins an important game, the dynamics can shift very fast. This match will be decided by moments, not just by overall strength. More broadly, this is an exciting time for world chess. India and Uzbekistan, two countries with rapidly developing chess traditions, are producing top players. Gukesh represents the strength of a systematic training pipeline, with millions of players and a deep chess culture. Sindarov represents the rise of a Central Asian nation where chess is becoming a source of national pride. Whoever wins, the match will become an inspiring story for generations. For Vietnamese chess, the lesson lies in preparation. We have talented young players, but to reach the world's top, more than technique is needed. It requires mental resilience, long-term training systems, and a sufficiently demanding competitive environment. Looking at Gukesh and Sindarov, we see young people changing chess with confidence and courage. They do not wait for opportunities; they create them. When the match begins, I will sit in front of the screen again, taking notes on every move, searching for small details that others miss. It could be a frown, a slow sip of water, an unexpected trade. These things do not appear on the scoreboard, but they tell the real story of the match. In the silence of the stadium, the future wears running shoes. And here, the future holds chess pieces. People talk about speed, but I find time. In chess, time is the most precious resource. Gukesh can use time to revive his form. Sindarov can use time to build his position. Carlsen, through his words, has injected a layer of psychological complexity into the match. Whoever handles it better will take control. The World Championship match is not just about finding a new king; it also answers a question: can a young person be talented, courageous, and learn to face expectations? The answer will come after the games. But whatever the result, Gukesh and Sindarov have proven that the new generation of chess does not need to wait. They arrive, they fight, and they force the world to watch. That is the most beautiful thing sport can offer: not just victory, but the journey of becoming oneself. And in that journey, every move is a lesson.