What’s your Endgame?

Why you should try to “see the whole board”

Photo by Jent Jiang on Unsplash

The Story

I was leading a major capital project for a city government, and I had a problem. The architect had proven difficult to work with and was unwilling to follow directions and modify their design to reduce costs and remain within budget. This was just the latest example of willfully ignoring the directions of the client, who happened to be me. My problem was that the funding was fixed, and the city’s capital program was based on an annual cycle, so if a project ran over budget, there was no source of additional funds. This could delay a needed project by a year to allow time to revise the design, reduce costs, and/or seek additional funds. My job was to complete the project with the funds originally allocated for it, which meant eliminating some unnecessary features that were important to the architect, who refused to acknowledge these constraints.

I walked into the office of the city attorney, who handled all the contracts for our department, and explained to him that I needed to fire the architect and remove them from the project. Our lawyer said to me,

“But Peter, what is your endgame?”

He meant, “Have you thought through all the steps we will have to take after you fire them?” I had thought it through—mostly, but not completely—and his point was a good one. It was a public project, and the architect had won the contract through a competitive RFP process. Would we have to put the whole project out for proposals again, or could we find a legally defensible justification for quickly hiring a new architect without competitively bidding it out? How long would it take and what would it cost to get the new architect up to speed? Could the new architect acquire the rights to use the original architect’s drawings as a basis for continuing the work? And would the original architect file suit against the city for wrongful termination? In the end, would the outcome be any better? Would the design be better, would the costs be appropriate, or would it all just go to hell, taking longer, costing more, and resulting in lower quality? It was a difficult situation, and we were running out of time, as most of the design fees had already been spent. What to do?

The Theory

Although used in contexts of law, negotiation, diplomacy, literature, philosophy, sports, and now the Marvel Cinematic Universe, the concept of the “endgame” originated with the game of chess. Chess has its origins in a predecessor game called Chaturanga, which was played in 6^th-century India, but the standardization of rules, pieces, and theory did not occur until the 19^th century. In modern chess, there are three stages to the game: The opening (“The Queens Gambit,” or “The Sicilian Defense,” for example); the middlegame, which is the most complex and important part of the game, where most games are decided; and the endgame. The end game is the final phase of the game, where there has been a major loss of force and just a few pieces remain on the board, including several pawns and the king, who must begin to play an active role in offense and defense. Setting strategy and tactics aside for a minute, chess also has a psychological dimension to it, exemplified by the concept of “TDF” or “Trap. Dominate. F***,” where the object is to win by destroying the spirit of the other player, underscoring what the British author Julian Barnes describes as,

“The game’s compelling mixture of violence and intellectuality,” where “high ambition combines with low brutality.”¹

At the literary level, avid chess player Samuel Beckett’s 1957 tragicomic one-act play, Endgame, takes place in a post-apocalyptic setting where the characters go through their repetitive rituals over a single day. The play is a reflection on the meaninglessness of modern life, drawing a parallel to the endgame of chess, where you move pieces back and forth, in a game of attrition, while waiting for the end to come. Philosopher Theodor W. Adorno wrote an entire essay about Beckett’s play, which he interpreted as a critique of existentialist philosophy, suggesting that the play destroys the illusion of self-determination in life by embodying the “meaning of meaninglessness” in the modern era. The concept of TDF and Adorno’s interpretations of Beckett’s play, however, are a little dark, so, for our purposes, let’s agree that the endgame is that point where you have less room for maneuver and your few remaining moves really count.²

What happened with that project?

The solution was actually pretty simple. The prime architect was from out of town, but they had a local architect as a partner who had worked for the City before, was much more understanding of the situation, and was a lot easier to work with. So, I called the local architect and told him that he needed to speak with his out-of-town partner and persuade him to trade places, allowing the local architect to take the lead on the project and drive it to completion at a cost that was within our budget and their contract. All this would require was a simple modification to the contract, putting the local architect in first place as the prime. The alternative was that the whole design team would be fired and we would have to restart the project with a different architect. This was an uncomfortable conversation, to be sure, but it had the desired effect: Both architects agreed to the switch, I never again had to talk to the architect who would not follow instructions, and the new prime architect worked to get the design and budget back on track. The project was ultimately completed, although a year late and only after securing additional funding, but not as much as would have been required if the design scope had not been reduced. Not an ideal outcome, but pretty good for government work, and I have no doubt it would have taken longer if we hadn’t modified the contract.

Another End Game

One of my favorite parts of the book The Power Broker, Robert Caro’s epic biography of Robert Moses, comes early in the story of Moses’s transformation from a progressive and idealistic “Goo Goo”—the Good Government guys trying to reform corrupt municipal governments in the early 20^th century—to a battle hardened and jaded realist who wants to “get things done.” One of Moses’s most important early projects was the planning, design, and construction of a new parkway system on Long Island. In the early days of the automobile, the idea was that a parkway was a place where you could take a scenic drive through a linear landscaped park. This was before the proliferation of the automobile and traffic jams destroyed that bucolic vision. Moses had a plan to build 416 miles of new parkways on Long Island, and he took charge of everything, down to and including contracting for and managing the construction. When it came time to build the first major segment, however, Moses was unable to secure funding from the state legislature, which only committed to half the requested amount. At this point, a different public servant would have sighed and built half the road completely, hoping to get the rest of the funding in the future. Moses, however, knew that was unlikely, and he was determined to realize his complete vision: He was unwilling to accept half a loaf. So instead, he built the entire road—but only up to the gravel base—before running out of funds. No asphalt, no striping, just gravel roads. When he went back to the legislature to ask for the balance required to complete the project, the legislators were furious…but they came up with the funds. Why? Because they knew how they would look in the eyes of the voters if the whole project remained uncompleted. Indeed, Moses knew those legislators—and their interests—better than they knew themselves. And unlike them, he had thought through his endgame. Caro, Robert, The Power Broker: Robert Moses and Fall of New York, New York: Knopf, 1974.

The Lesson

These stories offer two related lessons. First, and more generally, don’t start something if you can’t envision a path through to completion. Whether it is a process or project, large or small, a technical problem, business deal, or relationship, try to see through all the steps, challenges, angles, and obstacles before you start, or as is printed on the front of my chess-junky-son’s t-shirt, “see the whole board.” The second lesson is that you need to be aware of when you have progressed, in chess terms, from the opening, through the middlegame, and into the endgame: That point when your options and ability to maneuver are greatly reduced. That is when you had better HAVE an endgame. And if it involves a struggle or conflict with another person or organization, you had better assume that the other player has already thought through THEIR end game.

In the endgame, an error can be decisive, and we are rarely presented with a second chance.

-Paul Keres, Estonian Chess Grandmaster

This post is dedicated to my old colleague and friend, John D. Christmas III, Esq., for reminding me of the importance of having an endgame.

1. Barnes, Julian, “Trap. Dominate. F***,” in Granta 47, 1^st March, 1994, London: Granta Publications.

2. Beckett, Samuel, Endgame, premiered London, 1957; “Trying to Understand Endgame,” Adorno, Theodor W., in New German Critique, No 26, Critical Theory and Modernity, Spring - Summer, 1982, pp. 119-150, Translated by Michael T. Jones and published by: Duke University Press.