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Medical school teaches you anatomy, pharmacology, and surgical technique. It teaches you how to diagnose, how to operate, and how to save lives. But it doesn’t teach you what to do when you’ve made an irreversible error three moves ago. It doesn’t teach you how to stay calm when the board, or the operating table, turns against you. And it certainly doesn’t teach you when to walk away.
Dr. Ali Cadili, a general surgeon and clinical researcher at West Virginia University Medicine, found those lessons elsewhere: on a chessboard. For him, chess became the hidden curriculum, a training ground for the psychological and strategic demands that no textbook could fully prepare him for. What he learned over years of study and play has shaped not just how he operates, but how he leads, decides, and endures.
The Gap Between Knowledge and Mastery
Medical education excels at transferring knowledge. Students memorize thousands of facts, master complex procedures, and learn to recognize patterns in disease and injury. But mastery in medicine, as in chess, requires something more: the ability to perform under uncertainty, to adapt when plans fail, and to manage the emotional weight of high-stakes decisions.
Chess, Cadili explains, filled that gap. It taught him resilience when formal training focused on precision. It taught him patience when the system rewarded speed. And it taught him when to quit, a lesson nearly absent from medical culture. These aren’t supplementary skills. In surgery, research, and leadership, they often determine outcomes as much as technical ability does.
Seven Lessons From 64 Squares
Cadili distills his experience into seven principles, each one a counterpoint to what medical school emphasized or overlooked entirely.
Accept losses.
In chess, losing a piece doesn’t mean losing the game. In medicine, a setback, a complication, an unexpected outcome, doesn’t mean failure. Medical training often treats mistakes as catastrophic, but chess teaches a different truth: progress is rarely linear, and resilience comes from accepting imperfection without abandoning the goal. The skill lies in distinguishing a difficult position from a truly lost one.
Perseverance wins more often than brilliance.
Momentum shifts. Opponents tire. What looked hopeless at move 20 may present an opening at move 40. Cadili notes that steady focus often outlasts bursts of talent or enthusiasm. Medical school rewards quick thinking, but chess rewards endurance. In surgery and research, persistence exposes opportunities that brilliance alone might miss.
Know when it’s over.
This may be the lesson medicine most needs and least teaches. There is a fine line between grit and stubbornness, between fighting for a patient and fighting against reality. Cadili emphasizes that recognizing when a path will not succeed, and having the courage to redirect resources and energy elsewhere, is strength, not defeat. It requires analytical maturity and emotional honesty, qualities rarely celebrated in medical culture.
Never let your guard down.
A winning position can collapse in a single move. Success demands vigilance, not celebration. In the operating room, small adjustments make wide differences, and complacency invites error. Chess instills a habit of constant reassessment, even when the outcome seems certain. Medical school teaches confidence; chess teaches humility.
Practice patience.
Timing matters as much as tactics. Cadili compares the right move to a carefully prepared incision: it can’t be rushed. Each position is unique, and repeating a previous strategy rarely guarantees success. Medical training often emphasizes speed and efficiency, but chess teaches when to wait, when more groundwork is needed before action. Some goals require slower preparation, even when instinct screams to move.
There’s always a best move.
No matter how dire the position, there is always a next step. Cadili encourages focusing on that one move rather than dwelling on mistakes or misfortune. In medicine, this translates to clear, solution-oriented thinking under pressure. Emotional reactions cloud judgment; logical focus restores momentum. By concentrating on the next optimal action, we regain agency even in adversity.
Psychology determines outcomes.
Perhaps the most subtle lesson: technical skill alone doesn’t win games or save lives. Confidence, fear, and emotional control shape decisions more than knowledge does. After a victory, complacency creeps in. After a loss, timidity takes hold. The steady, stoic approach, immune to emotional swings, produces the most consistent results. Medical school trains the intellect; chess trains the mind to handle the emotional turbulence of high-stakes performance.
Why Formal Training Leaves These Gaps
Medical education operates under enormous constraints. There’s too much to learn and too little time. Curriculum committees prioritize what’s testable, measurable, and defensible. Emotional resilience, strategic patience, and the wisdom to quit don’t fit neatly into that framework.
Chess, by contrast, is a laboratory for failure. Every game ends with a winner and a loser. Every mistake is immediately visible. There are no partial credits, no gray areas where effort compensates for outcome. This brutal clarity creates a learning environment that medical school, with its emphasis on knowledge acquisition and institutional hierarchy, cannot replicate.
Applying Chess Logic to Medical Practice
Dr. Cadili’s professional path reflects these principles. He completed his medical degree, surgical residency, and Master of Science in Experimental Surgery in Canada, followed by a fellowship in Surgical Critical Care at the University of Connecticut. His academic work has contributed to surgical education and practice globally.
But credentials alone don’t explain his approach. In the operating room, he applies chess-trained awareness: constant reassessment, emotional steadiness, focus on the next best move. In research, he uses chess-learned patience: recognizing when more groundwork is needed before pushing forward. In leadership, he practices chess wisdom: knowing when to persist and when to pivot.
Every patient, like every opponent, presents a unique challenge that refuses reduction to a set of predictable moves. The skill lies in observing patterns without becoming trapped by them, in maintaining composure when circumstances shift, and in making sound decisions under pressure.
The Hidden Curriculum Every Professional Needs
These seven lessons extend beyond medicine. They form a framework for anyone navigating high-stakes decisions, uncertain outcomes, and the emotional demands of sustained performance. Whether in business, research, or personal challenges, the principles remain: accept imperfection, persist through difficulty, recognize when to stop, stay vigilant in success, practice patience, focus on the next move, and master your emotional state.
Medical school gave Dr. Cadili the technical foundation for his career. Chess gave him the psychological and strategic tools to excel within it. The gap between the two, between what institutions teach and what professionals need, is where mastery actually develops.
The chessboard, like the operating room, rewards awareness, adaptability, and emotional control. Study the position, stay calm, and make the next best move. That’s the lesson medical school couldn’t teach, and the one that matters most when knowledge alone isn’t enough.
For more on Dr. Ali Cadili’s work and insights, visit linkedin.com/in/ali-cadili.
