Carlsen calls Sindarov favourite, Gukesh underdog: Psychology ahead of World Chess Championship match

When Magnus Carlsen calls Javokhir Sindarov the 'clear favourite' and D Gukesh the 'underdog', he is not merely making a prediction. He is painting a psychological portrait of the upcoming World Chess Championship match. An outsider may look at ratings, but an insider—a player who has dominated every final—sees something else: the first moment, the first shock, and how a young mind handles pressure. The context is clear: Gukesh, the youngest champion in history, will defend his title against Sindarov, a rising Uzbek grandmaster. Carlsen, who has long criticised the match format—calling it an 'extraordinarily bad way to determine the best player'—now stands outside the arena, offering observations like an analyst rather than a rival. But his words carry the weight of two decades of dominance. He argues that Sindarov is the favourite due to his consistency and high-level experience. Gukesh, by contrast, has a higher ceiling—meaning his potential peak could surpass anyone. This is a nuanced assessment: Sindarov is stronger right now, but Gukesh can play better than anyone if everything clicks. Carlsen also emphasises the psychological factor: 'The player who leads early doesn't just win on the board—they win in the opponent's mind.' But here is the intriguing part: Is being labelled the underdog really a disadvantage for Gukesh? In chess history, many champions have used the 'underdog' tag to sharpen their focus. Gukesh, just 18, has nothing to lose. If he loses, people will say: 'Told you—he's too young.' If he wins, he becomes the one who beat a heavy favourite. The blind spot of Carlsen—and perhaps of the chess world—is underestimating the power of not being expected to win. The match format is also an unknown variable. Carlsen criticises it for being draw-prone and reliant on tiebreaks. But if Gukesh can exploit his youth—endurance, boldness, rapid calculation—the format might become his weapon. These two players, one from India and one from Uzbekistan, represent the generational shift underway in chess. India has invested heavily in youth training; Uzbekistan is also rising with Sindarov and Nodirbek Abdusattorov. The final is not just a personal duel but a race between two emerging chess systems. From a risk perspective, Carlsen has pointed out a realistic scenario: if Sindarov wins a few early games, Gukesh may lose direction. But conversely, if Gukesh holds firm and surprises in the first game, the pressure shifts to Sindarov—who is expected to win. This is a psychological chess match being played before any piece is moved. So what is the takeaway? This final may not produce a dominant champion in the Carlsen mould, but it will show us something: in chess, as in football, victory comes not only from technique but from how you face the whispers in your head. Sindarov is the favourite, but Gukesh is the one writing the story. And as Carlsen once said, 'the player who leads early'—not just on the board but in the hearts of fans—is the true winner.