Karsten Müller and 25 Years of ChessBase: The Endgame Symphony of a Legend

On August 14, 2026, a brief article appeared on the ChessBase homepage titled "25 years ago – ChessBase news." Not a top-level match, not a scandal — but an announcement about the new edition of Endgame Academy, featuring Karsten Müller's endgame courses, the chess world-renowned expert described as "the one who understands endgames better than anyone." An ordinary day for chess, but behind it lies a story about the transformation of the entire chess education industry — from physical books to interactive exercises, from passive learning to active training. At 55, living in Da Nang, I have witnessed many things called "revolutionary" in sports. But with chess, the real revolution unfolds more quietly — it lies in each endgame move, in each moment when a swimmer must practice in a river during a pandemic, or in how a 19-year-old Yemeni student named Ahmed found small joys on the sidelines of a World Cup. The shift of Endgame Academy is the same — not noisy, but it changes how an entire generation approaches chess science. Karsten Müller is no stranger to the chess world. He is the author of highly acclaimed endgame books, writer of the Endgame Corner column for Chess Publishing for decades, and an analyst trusted by ChessBase since 2026. When ChessBase writes that "nobody understands endgames better than Karsten Müller," it's not mere marketing braggadocio — it's recognition from an ecosystem that has collaborated with him for 25 years. Michael Kotyk, a young chess trainer in Hamburg, calls this course a "magnifying glass" helping learners see every detail of the most critical phase of a game. For me, it's how a multi-sport sports writer sees the layers behind each training program — not a product, but an educational philosophy. The context of this announcement cannot be separated from the development of the digital chess education market. Throughout the past 25 years, ChessBase has built a massive ecosystem — from Fritz software to a database of millions of games, from online tournaments to online courses. Endgame Academy is not just a product; it's the final link in the value chain ChessBase wants to deliver to users. "Kicks off" with Checkmate and Pawn Endgames — indicating this is foundational knowledge, a milestone any serious player must surpass. Pawn endgames are the foundation of all foundations — without it, every endgame strategy becomes meaningless. What strikes me most in this announcement isn't Müller's name, nor the prominently displayed ChessBase logo. It's the phrase "interactive options have become indispensable in video courses." This is a statement of the times. In a world where Lichess provides millions of puzzles for free, while YouTube is flooded with free endgame channels from grandmasters, a commercial product emphasizing interactivity shows the market has fundamentally changed. Learners no longer want to sit and watch — they want to do, to try, to fail and correct immediately. This is exactly what I've observed in other sports: nobody wants to just hear swimming technique explained; everyone wants to jump in the water and practice. But this is also where I see an interesting contrast. ChessBase writes this as a commercial product reviewing itself — "25 years ago" is a nostalgic angle, a way to evoke a long journey. But in the sports world I follow, one lesson always holds true: self-promoting products should never be fully trusted. Karsten Müller may be the world's number one endgame expert — and he probably truly is — but ChessBase saying so in their own product announcement is something that needs careful consideration. Michael Kotyk, though a young and seemingly independent trainer, is also part of the ecosystem ChessBase has built. The connection between "evaluator" and "seller" in the chess world isn't always as clear as on a football pitch. Another blind spot I noticed while reading the announcement carefully: there is absolutely no pricing information. No registration numbers, no subscription package details, no comparison with competing products like Chessable or standalone endgame courses on other platforms. In an age when every purchasing decision is based on value for money, ChessBase remains silent. Are they hiding something, or simply accustomed to their customers being willing to pay for quality without comparison? The answer likely lies in the product's target audience: coaches, serious learners, those who have already spent money on ChessBase software and are looking for supplementary content. For them, price may be secondary, but for a sports writer like me — always concerned about those on the sidelines — it's the most important information. What strikes me as most noteworthy is the parallel existence of two worlds in chess education. The first is ChessBase — a 25-year-old brand, a closed ecosystem, premium products, officially promoted experts. The second is Lichess, YouTube, Reddit r/chess forums — where chess is learned for free, where anyone can access millions of games and endgame exercises without spending a penny. The coexistence of these two worlds is not opposition — it's like the relationship between a high-end gym and running in the park. Both are good, but they serve different needs. Müller's Endgame Academy doesn't compete directly with Lichess puzzles; it competes with lack of time, lack of discipline, and lack of a structured learning roadmap. Karsten Müller turned 60 in 2026. For a 55-year-old sports writer like me, that's a quiet reminder about time. 25 years of collaboration with ChessBase, dozens of books, countless endgame analyses — all being packaged into a new interactive course. Michael Kotyk, the young trainer in Hamburg, represents the next generation who will inherit this legacy. And ChessBase, with its "Endgame Academy" strategy, is betting that chess education remains a market worth investing in, even as the world has changed dramatically since 2026. The question isn't whether Müller's course is good — almost certainly it is. The real question is: in a world where free knowledge abounds, are people still willing to pay for professionalism? And is "25 years ago" a story compelling enough to draw them into the ecosystem one more time? In the silence of an August morning in Da Nang, I think of Ahmed — the Yemeni student I met in Moscow 8 years ago. He couldn't afford World Cup tickets, but still found joy in football. Chess is the same — it doesn't require much money, just a board and someone willing to think. Müller's Endgame Academy may be a door opening to a deeper world, but it's not the only entrance. And perhaps that's the most thought-provoking thing — not about the product, but about the nature of learning chess in the digital age.