Nov
30

An Early New Year’s Resolution

When I was a child, I spoke as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child; but when I became a man, I put away childish things. ~ 1 Corinthians 13:11

You know things have taken a turn for the bizarre when I start quoting Biblical aphorisms. Still hurtling through the air, approximately 30,000 feet above New Mexico those were the words that popped into my head.

Before I continue I feel I should note that I refuse to completely put aside childish things. I recently got a “Recommended for You” e-mail list from Amazon that was made up in it’s entirety of bridge books and SpongeBob SquarePants DVDs. I refuse to give up SpongeBob (this study will come as no surprise to my bridge partners); but when it comes to bridge, the time has come for me to grow up.

I won a lot of masterpoints very quickly playing an off-the-wall kind of a game, always looking for the unusual contract or the unusual play that might just work on that particular hand. It leads to wildly inconsistent bidding, vacillating between overly conservative and overly aggressive, only rarely dipping into a bidding “sweet spot” and many, many bikini games – all tops and bottoms. It is impossible for ones partner to calibrate for that kind of action. A lot of frustration for both myself and my partners resulted from the fact that I felt that I caught a lot of flak when this strategy didn’t work, but it seemed to me that they were playing with me because it just as often did – I find, in retrospect, that they were playing with me despite the gambles that paid off, not because of them.

“This is bridge, not poker!” I heard obscenity-laced variations on this theme from both the Mad Scientist and Yin. Doc, who put up with more than either of them (but is so much more level-headed), managed not to lob this particular insult my way, but I bet he was thinking it. Still it wasn’t sinking in because as crazy-making as playing with me was (and is) it was (but now isn’t) a successful strategy. I’ve taken it about as far as it will go, maybe a little further even, and I’m not anywhere near the player that I would like to be.

Which brings me back to the airspace above New Mexico. I spent six days in San Francisco at the NABC and while I didn’t get a chance to play very often, the times I did play I was repeatedly confronted by the limitations of my skill-set. My first night there I played in a side-game with Washington, I was exhausted after traveling all day and the time-zone change made the 7:30 PM start time feel like 9:30 to my addled brain. Things did not go smoothly. We repeatedly zigged when we should have zagged. On one hand Washington made a less than ideal opening lead and apologized. I jokingly responded, “Now we’re even,” and he scoffed, which was my first inkling that perhaps I was making even more mistakes than I realized. The Kid decided to kibitz the second half and after the game ended at around 11:00 PM (read: 1:00 AM) we were looking over the hand records. I asked about a particular hand, he answered but it seemed like when he was done answering my specific question there was more he wanted to say. I knew better than to push the big red “Don’t push!” button, but I did it anyway. “Was there anything else?” I asked.

Twenty minutes worth of bad plays, and errors in judgment, all casually observed from somewhere behind my right shoulder and only then did he reach the play that “really bothered” him. To wit, there was a very small chance on one hand for me to make the contract, it was a cost free play to find out if in fact my LHO held specifically the Kx of diamonds on-side and instead I conceded the trick. My face burned with the realization, it isn’t like me to just give up on a hand. At the time I didn’t learn that the one holding I needed to make the contract was in fact the holding my opponent had, but it would literally have cost nothing to find out, just cross my fingers and plunk down the diamond ace after the finesse to the queen worked. Suddenly the unsupported Jack in my hand would have been good. Instead I had led a small card back toward the jack, a zero percentage play, zero, zip, no chance – I’d just given up. I felt disgusted, vaguely nauseous and suddenly very, very tired. I limped back to my hotel room and found I couldn’t sleep. When I would drift off to sleep, the King of Diamonds haunted my dreams.

The next night, after working all day on very little sleep, I played with my boss for the first time. I found myself in the uncomfortable position of really wishing I could be up in my room in bed instead of forcing my eyes open at the table. Adding to my misery, the cards were not going our way and hand after hand we found ourselves on defense. When we did get into the bidding the best we could manage was a part-score. We said very little to one another between rounds, except to ask if the other would like a cup of coffee when we left to refill our own cups. This time it was my partner who had a kibitzer, but the hands were so boring that even he lost interest and wandered off after awhile. We had a decent game, nothing earth shattering, but no disasters either.

The Kid and I filled in the movement for one session of a fast pairs game on Sunday. My favorite disaster of the session involved my doubling a vulnerable 5♦ contract that should have been down three only to find the one defense that would allow it to make. White against red, my partner opened the bidding in second seat:

(P)-1♣-(1♥)-1♠-
(P)-2♠-(3♦)-4♠-
(5♦)-P-(P)-X-
All Pass

This was my hand:

♠ AQxxx
♥ x
♦ J9x
♣ KQxx

I am pretty sure my RHO is 5-4 in the red suits, because otherwise she could have used Michael’s so the good news is that I think we have probably two spade tricks coming to us but there’s nothing saying she doesn’t have the Kx of spades. A club lead might be right, but I really would like to get a ruff with my anemic diamonds if at all possible so I try the singleton heart lead even though it is the declarer’s first bid suit.

My partner plays the ♥8 and not surprisingly the declarer wins and switches to a diamond, my partner wins his stiff ace and returns the ♥2 which I interpreted as asking for a club return. I ruff the heart and return a low club. The declarer wins with her J of clubs and the hand is over when the finesse for the missing heart honors is on-side. My poor partner had the KJxx of hearts. The declarer started with the AJ tight of clubs and the Tx of spades. I can see why my partner might not have wanted to return either the K or J of hearts and it is of note that if I return the ♣Q instead my partner will still overtake with the ace (if he had it) to return another heart and it would protect against the declarer having both missing club honors. We would have at least beat it (though not by as much as if I had instead returned a spade to my partner’s king.) Minus 750 is a big fat zero.

My declaring was as enlightened as my defense. Earlier in the session I had gotten completely tangled up in a 1NT contract and went down one when I should have made it and then there was a hand on which the correct line eluded me both at the table and for what felt like ten minutes after the Kid pointed it out to me. He noted the diamond suit. I stared at him blankly, wondering what exactly he wanted me to do with the moth-eaten diamonds. He looked at me wondering what planet I was on. Finally it dawned on me that the answer was to ruff them. (Oh is that what a trump suit is for?) Another zero when I’m in 2 down one when I should have made three. And the less said about the hand where we ended up down one in 3NT when we were cold for 6♦ the better. So for the record, Red Vines followed by a 5-Hour Energy shot is not the breakfast of champions.

On Monday night, I played for the first time with another co-worker of mine and we had a very decent, solid game with only one real exception. In first seat, both side vulnerable, I picked up this:

♠ AJTxxxx
♥ x
♦ xx
♣ ATx

I only really considered opening it 1♠ for the briefest of moments before coming to my senses and opening it 3♠. Everyone passed.

The opening lead was the ♥Q. and the dummy came down with:

♠ xx
♥ AKx
♦ AKJxxx
♣ xx

You know you have a reputation for opening light when you open 3♠ vulnerable in first seat and your partner with a spade fit and four quick tricks, passes. Unfortunately it makes five all day long and with minimal effort once my RHO turns up with the QT tight of diamonds. I will admit that had I been playing with my teacher that would have been exactly what either of us would have done with her hand since our three-level openers are such garbage we alert them, but then we probably would have opened that hand 4♠ instead.

It’s hard to say exactly how these four games led to my realization in the sky that whatever I was doing wasn’t working for me anymore, and really they were just the culmination of a longer process. Upon reflection, the strides I’ve made up until this point have come pretty easy though it didn’t always seem so at the time. The real work is ahead of me now, and I’m not entirely sure that I’ll succeed. I worry that I’m just not smart enough to play this game at the level I would like to, but I feel I must at least try and circumstances are such that I’m not playing as much as I was before and so I have the time to put into really studying card play and developing a different bidding philosophy. Breakthrough or breakdown, in the end, there will be transformation.

Oct
31

Trick or Treat?

Halloween night finds me sitting with a giant bowl of candy, anxiously awaiting the arrival of trick-or-treaters. It seems fitting that I would be stuck with all the treats tonight, all the tricks were at the club last night.

This weekend the Kid and I are headed deep into Arkansas to play at a sectional tournament and we decided to pick up a couple of practice sessions at the local bridge club before the trip. When I first met him I was surprised to learn that he didn’t play at the club all that often. For one thing, there really isn’t all that much else to do around here and for another, he obviously loves bridge.

It was not until I moved here that I learned that there are Howell movements that go up past five tables. In fact, the directors here love to bust out the special guide cards for seven and eight-table Howells. The games are unbearably slow but you get to play a lot of boards and you get to play most everyone else, plus it’s only a two or three board sit out when there’s half a table.

Our first round was a bit rocky, the opponents bid up to 4♥ and went down one when I realized at trick two that our only hope of beating it was to take tricks in the trump suit and so resisted the urge to fly up with my ace in the hopes that my partner had the KJ doubleton, he did and it was off one. On the very next hand though I ran smack into a signal that I have missed before. We’re playing obvious shift on the opening lead, in the case of a singleton in dummy instead of just switching to suit preference, which is standard, we added the clause that a middle spot encourages while either a high or low is suit preference. Great idea, but you have to remember that is what is going on. I led an ace. He played the seven. (“The seven must be a middle spot, if only I knew what he wanted ….”) I shifted to a side suit. The switch in and of itself didn’t hurt us, but it gave my partner the wrong picture of the hand which led him astray later on and gave them an overtrick for a top. On the bright side, later on when my partner was the one on lead and the dummy hit with a singleton, I remembered to play a middle card to encourage.

The night wore on with hand after hand in which the opponents’ bad plays payed off while our good plays came to naught, but the stuff that nightmares are made of was yet to come. We sat down against a pair that are noted for being unpredictable. The Kid had already bemoaned the fact that the movement meant we’d almost certainly have to play them. On the first hand, my RHO was the dealer, we were vulnerable they were not and the auction went like this:

(P)-P-(1♣)-P-
(1♥)-1♠-(1NT)-P-
3NT!- All Pass

As he was entering the contract, North said to his partner, “Your hand must have been pretty good for a passed hand.” “It isn’t points, it’s trick taking ability,” she replied tersely. The Kid led a low spade and this was her “trick taking” dummy:

♠ x
♥ xxxx
♦ Axx
♣ Kxxxx

North stared at her as if she’d completely lost her mind. I probably had the same look on my face. I won my king, returned the nine, which the declarer covered with the ten and my partner won his ace. He returned a small spade which the declarer won with his queen. Then declarer went after the ratty clubs. He played a small club to the king, my partner dropped the jack which was really bad news because I was holding the T9 … so yes, the QJ dropped doubleton and so did the T9 which meant declarer took five clubs, two diamonds, a heart and a spade to make his 3NT contract with a combined 20 HCP while most of the field was in 3♣ making 4. My partner and I fumed. “Well, we needed a good hand,” South said.

On the next hand, both sides were vulnerable and I was the dealer with:

♠ Jxx
♥ J
♦ T98xxx
♣ xxx

Did I consider opening it 2♦? I admit that I did, but only very briefly.

P-(P)-1♥-(X)-
All Pass

Uh-oh. But on the bright side, half my points are in my partner’s suit. As it turned out, South had a 25 HCP hand and North had six hearts to the king. When the smoke cleared we were down 3 for -800 and they do not have a slam their way. The two of them started into this infuriating dialog, “Hearts was my suit I thought one heart doubled was the best spot we’d find.” “I had twenty-four high card points! What’d we get … two, five, eight .. eight hundred?” “There’s no slam our way.” “But I had twenty-four points!” (She can’t count.) “Doesn’t matter, there’s no slam.” “How many spades did you have?” “Even if we get to four spades it isn’t as good.” “What about clubs?” “There’s no slam.” And just when I thought they’d finally gotten the passive-aggressive gloating out of their system South spoke up again, “So that was eight hundred?” I was ready to test the club’s zero tolerance policy, but instead I picked up the next hand.

My partner opened 1NT (he was a point shy, but what’s one point between bridge partners?). I had another 2 HCP hand, but with a five card spade suit and we got out safely for down one in 3♠. I’ll admit I fled the table before I lost my cool and left the Kid to approve the last score. I get why he doesn’t play there more often.

Not all of the weirdness went so badly for us. I finally got a good hand:

♠ Axxxx
♥ Ax
♦ ATx
♣ AKJ

We were vulnerable and our opponents were not. My LHO was the dealer and opened a preemptive 2♦. Not surprisingly, my partner passed. Then my RHO bid 3♣ which was alerted as not being forcing. I doubled which got passed back around to my RHO who then bid 3♦. Now I bid 3♠ and my partner raised me to four.

My LHO led a club and much to my surprise the dummy hit with five clubs to the ten. Clearly something was amiss here. I won my RHO’s queen and started pulling trump. I wasn’t surprised when they broke 4-1, but I was surprised when my LHO (the opener) was the one who had four. As it turned out, my LHO had only two clubs, Qx. The club lead turned out to be rather advantageous though and the only trick I lost was to the jack of trump. The only explanation I can come up with for his 3♣ bid is that he wanted to keep us from finding our eight card club fit. He had the right idea, but the wrong black suit; a 3♠ bid in the same vein would have done them much better.

Oct
01

I’d rather be lucky ….

When it comes to partnerships I’ve always been pretty lucky and while I worried that this move would represent the time that my luck ran out, it has not. I’ve played a few times now with a very sharp woman who is an excellent player and she has yet to run screaming from the club; in fact, she seemed pleased to get to trot out some of the conventions that other people in this area aren’t keen on playing.

Yesterday she presented me with a laminated, computer printed convention card (a huge step in any bridge partnership). She arrived just before the game started so I didn’t actually get a chance to look at the new convention card and as we played she kept thinking of things that she’d added that we had never actually discussed (for example: Namyats, Rosencrantz, Snap-dragon doubles). Before we play next I’m going to have to spend some serious time with the card and a high speed internet connection just so I know for sure what I’m in for. But as I’ve said in the past, when I play with a stronger player the thing I have to offer is a willingness to learn new conventions so I’m game to play their ideal card, almost regardless of what it includes. Of course, when I’m playing with a weaker partner I’d never ask them to try to play all the conventions I like so I volunteer to play whatever they like. One day I will find a partner with whom I can play the stuff I like — though to be honest I’m not longer exactly sure just what that system would look like.

Today I read in the news that a 697 lb. alligator had been captured and killed in MIssissippi. My initial reaction to the headline was “Thank g_d that’s nowhere near here,” only then to realize that it was here (a few hours south of here to be precise, but not nearly as far away as it should have been).

Sep
08

The Virtue in Bad Behavior

I’m four days out from the move to Memphis and I’m nowhere near ready, so of course yesterday I went to play at a local sectional tournament. While sitting in traffic on the way to the venue, I couldn’t help but notice all of the “Adopt a Highway” signs featuring various local businesses who had paid for the privilege of picking up trash along a particular stretch of road. Atop each of these signs was the admonition not to litter, but if one doesn’t litter these people won’t have anything to do.

The turn out was much higher than the organizers had anticipated and there weren’t enough boards duplicated so during the first round everyone played on board and then duplicated the hand into a second board that would then be played in a different section. Later on in the session an opponent made the comment to his partner, “Well, you could have had the queen of spades.” I responded, “Before we duplicated the boards this morning, he probably did.”

The high turn out also meant that the tables were a bit closer together than usual, which led to all sorts of frustration for the director (singular, for 48 tables of bridge being played — whatever he was being paid it wasn’t enough) as well as the individual serving as caddy (not enough electronic bridge scorers so our section was using pick-up slips) not to mention all of the East-West pairs who had to move between rounds. My partner and I were North-South, but we got stuck next to another North-South pair that consisted of one of the many self-proclaimed experts in the area who droned on and on at his partner, a monotonous soliloquy of what a good bridge player would have done as compared to what she had done. “A good bridge player would recognize that I was looking for you to shift to clubs.” “A good bridge player would never have passed them in two hearts.” “When I’m playing with a good bridge player I don’t feel a need to pre-balance because I know they’ll balance in your position. You never balance.” (For the record next time I’m accused of making an overly aggressive overcall, I’m going to refer to it as a “pre-balancing bid”.) I wish I could tell you that I went over to him and told him that a good bridge player knows when to shut the hell up, but I mostly just sat there and imagined him choking to death on a deck of playing cards. A good bridge player knows when to pick her battles.

And I had plenty of battles of my own, for one thing every passive opening lead I made seemed to finesse my partner out of a king. On one hand after an impressive bit of overbidding, my partner and I landed in 5♦. On the opening lead of the jack of clubs, I had the Kxx of clubs in dummy and the ATx of clubs in my hand. I was so focused on where I would later need an entry that I completely missed the fact that I now had a marked finesse for the queen. I won the trick in my hand and only then realized my mistake. I ended up down one, but would have made it had I not lost a club trick. Of course, if I keep making these ridiculous contracts neither my partner nor I will ever learn to stop bidding them.

Aug
27

Lowly Support

The very first hand of the day was by far my favorite auction. Not-vulnerable against vulnerable, in first seat, this was my hand:

♠ KQxxx
♥ 9xx
♦ x
♣ KTxx

My mind briefly flitted to opening it 2♠, but then I came back to my senses (it happens once in awhile) and I passed. Good thing too, because my LHO then opened the bidding 1♠

P-(1♠)-2♥-(2♦)-

As soon as the Mad Scientist bid 2♥ I had begun contemplating what was the best of my bad options. My hand is way too good with heart support to pass, but I don’t really want to go to the three level with three baby hearts and the majority of my points sitting in front of the opener in said opener’s suit. When my RHO made the insufficient bid of 2♦ my problem was resolved; since one of my options is to accept the insufficient bid, I did so and bid 2♥. Surprisingly, no one even raised an eyebrow.

P-(1♠)-2♥-(2♦)-
2♥-(P)-P-(2♠)-
X-All Pass

Some unfortunate defense allowed the accursed contract to make, but then again it was the first round and everyone knows the first round doesn’t really count. And, for the record, it does not make 3♥.

Aug
16

No Cookie

For once I felt like I was on my game, and by “on my game” I mean the Mad Scientist only really hated one of my bids and the way I defended one particular hand.

I didn’t play very much (which might explain why it seemed like we were doing well), but I got to play the last hand of the day. “Is this the first hand you’ve played?” the Mad Scientist asked. “No, I played one before and I played it really well,” I replied. Then I looked at the score card, “Actually, I played three hands and I played one of them really well.” A cranky player at the next table piped up, “The director has your gold star up front.” “You mean I don’t get a cookie?” I pouted.

As for the bid that TMS disliked so intently. I was in first seat vul. against not-vul.:

♠ JT9xx
♥ J
♣ Kx
♦ ATxxx

Even I’m not crazy enough to try opening this, my LHO opened 1♥ which was passed back around to me. Well now I’m in the balancing seat which changes things, kind of, after giving it some thought I tried 2♥. My LHO bid 3♥ and bought it for that. As it turned out he had 23 HCP and really ought to have opened his hand 2♣, but TMS was not at all amused by my bid. As he put it, “Either I’m broke or I have a heart stack — either way at this vulnerability we’re in trouble once you make that bid.” I could see his point. He vociferated anyway and then told me not to get angry. Despite all the evidence he has to the contrary, I’m not actually a slow learner. “I’m trying to adjust your thinking,” he went on, “You shouldn’t even considering making a bid with this hand at this vulnerability.” Well, I did consider it. A year ago, I would have just made the bid without a second thought — so maybe I am a slow learner, but I do learn, eventually. Do I get anything for at least hesitating before I made the wrong call? Is that worth a cookie?

Jul
31

As Bad as One

I limped into the club today with an ego still bruised from yesterday’s outing. On the very first hand with a combined and fairly evenly distributed 21 HCP, we were in 1NT down three; it was not an auspicious start and by the fourth round the wheels had well and truly come off.

With no one vulnerable, my LHO was the dealer and passed to the Mad Scientist who opened 1♦. My RHO passed to me and I passed holding:

♠ T9x
♥ KJx
♦ xxxx
♣ xxx

(This was just one of many 4-3-3-3 hands I would pick up today; meanwhile TMS was pulling out hands with wild distribution, eight card suits and two suited 7-5 monstrosities — none of which played particularly well I might add.)

The bidding continued:

(P)-1♦-(P)-P-
(X)-2♥-(X)-?

Once TMS scrapes up a 2♥ bid, the value of my hand increases significantly, but I’d like to play in 2♥X if the take-out bidder thinks their hearts are good enough to let it stand. Of course, they were balancing so the chances of that are slim. TMS thought I should have bid 3♦ at this point. Later I would take a shine to the idea of redoubling instead, as a passed hand I think it should show that I’m now at the top of my pass and I have values in hearts.

(P)-1♦-(P)-P-
(X)-2♥-(X)-P-
(2♠)-P-(P)-3♦-
All Pass

TMS, of course, has a monster and makes four easily, but 3NT is gin. I suspect most of the room opened his hand 2NT, but I can see why with 2=4=5=2 and 21 HCP he might choose not to. Anyway he felt my 3♦ bid was too little too late. As I said, I wish I had redoubled. He made it very clear he thought it was foolish for me to think that we might actually get to play 2♥X.

On the next hand, again neither vulnerable, this time TMS is the dealer and opens 1♣ which could be short if he has a big NT type hand. My hand:

♠ xxxx
♥ x
♦ Kxx
♣ JTxxx

Lovely, isn’t it? My RHO over-called 1♥. And, as far as I was concerned, that made my hand a whole heck of a lot better. If we find a spade fit great, if there isn’t a spade fit I have clubs to fall back on.

1♣*-(1♥)-X-(2♥)-
P-(P)-3♣-(P)-
3NT-All Pass

I wasn’t happy when he bid 3NT because I know he’s expecting a lot more from me, but I didn’t want to let them play in 2♥. Needless to say he was very unhappy with the dummy. In retrospect, I think I have to bid 4♣ and hope he doesn’t take it as a slam try. As it turns out, 5♣ will make but 3NT is doomed. After the hand TMS demanded to know if playing standard I would have bid with my hand had my RHO passed. The answer is “No” of course, but she didn’t pass, she over-called the suit in which I have a singleton. As for the 3♣ bid, I didn’t want to sell out in 2♥ (a contract they can make, by the way), but I have no way of telling my partner that I’ve led him down the garden path yet again. When the round was over I walked away from the table to get another cup of coffee. When I returned to the table, TMS was gone and my LHO who is a very sweet lady was saying to her partner, “She’s a good player.” When I realized she was talking about me, I noted that that was a matter of some debate. Her response, “Oh everyone thinks you’re a good player. Well, everyone except your partner.”

No one likes losing (well, probably there’s some weirdo somewhere who likes losing at bridge), and I’ve had more than my fair share of really bad games. But ideally even when having a bad game there’s a certain amount of camaraderie between partners. You tell each other that the hands just aren’t scoring well through little or no fault of your own. You’re in this mess together. I once had a partner tell me, “I enjoy having bad games with you more than anyone else.” I took that as a big, if somewhat backhanded, compliment. But once your partner turns against you, it’s a peculiar kind of alienation that descends. In a game that is so highly dependent on clear communication the disconnect can seem, if you’ll pardon the pun, unbridgeable. And bridge players with our considerable egos seem particularly prone to both withdrawing and lashing out, like angry snapping turtles (or perhaps that’s just me). But the loneliness in those moments is fathomless, even with three other people so very close at hand.

After the game, I realized two things: first, I had to come back in three hours to do it all over again, and second, I really wanted a beer. Okay, I really wanted a hug, but since I’m not prone to hugging strangers, I went for a beer instead, and if I didn’t feel like a total loser already, walking into a pub by myself in late afternoon did the trick. I took the latest issue of the ACBL Bulletin with me, but found myself distracted by a conversation being had by three middle-aged gentlemen sitting at the bar. It didn’t seem intentional, but their meandering discussion kept hitting upon the topic of their favorite things including a favorite wedding band (I didn’t catch the name of the band, but they play both the Beatles and Pink Floyd and are booked solid for months in advance); their favorite Olympic sport (badminton, and yes he was serious, “It’s a real sport, you know?”) and, of course, their favorite whiskey (Bushmills, “It’s even better than Crown Royal!”).

When I finally tore myself away from the tantalizing eavesdropping, I found myself paying attention to the letters to the editor in the Bulletin. Nickel caused quite a stir with his assertion that we should do away with alerting conventional bids and that people should be able to play whatever system they choose. Sounds like fun to me, certainly seems like the ACBL could see fit for at least one “anything goes!” event per national, but it may be that I just really want a chance to play the Mad Scientist’s system in a tournament setting.

I returned to the club later on to play in the “no stress duplicate” game. It lived up to its name and my partner and I had a blast. The hands were totally weird and this time everyone was getting strange distributions. I had one hand with 6=6=1=0, each major was to the AT and the singleton diamond was the king. I ended up in 3♥ much to the dismay of my partner. Not surprisingly the opponents were bidding clubs and he was loaded with them while having a doubleton in each of my suits. If only I’d somehow known to pass three clubs … and please don’t ask why I was still bidding on the 3-level with 11 HCP and two lousy suits.

The highlight of the evening was when in third seat, both sides vulnerable, I picked up:

♠ Jx
♥ x
♦ KJx
♣ KQxxxxx

The bidding got passed around to me, naturally I opened 3♣. After a slight hesitation, my LHO passed and then my partner went into the tank for a very long time before bidding 5♣ bid which mercifully went un-doubled and ended the auction. “You’ve clinted me,” I muttered. My LHO led his ace of spades and this was the dummy:

♠ x
♥ KQJxx
♦ Axxx
♣ JTx

My LHO switched to the ace of clubs, my RHO followed suit. I fully expected his next card to be the ace of hearts, but then I didn’t get doubled so perhaps that was unrealistically pessimistic. Much to my surprise he switched to a diamond. I played low from dummy, my RHO played the queen and I won my king. I ruffed my spade in dummy, and pulled the last trump returning to my hand by overtaking the jack with my queen. Now I played clubs and watched as both defenders discarded a diamond. Oh joy, oh rapture, on the thirteenth trick I dumped my singleton heart on dummy’s fourth diamond for the eleventh trick. Not surprisingly, +600 was a top, but I noted to my partner that +150 would have been too, of course, that wouldn’t have been nearly so much fun.

Jul
21

Smiling in the Dark

I played in the “baby seals” pairs with a partner that I’ve only played with a couple of times, but we always enjoy ourselves. Typically I don’t do very well in these events, but I feel a bit at loose ends when one is being held because the open pairs cease to have a meaningful stratification and instead are broken down into 0-3000 and 3000+. Unsurprisingly, I’d rather be a big fish in a small pond and I’ll likely only be eligible for these 0-750 events for another year anyway.

In the first session, we were having an average game the hard way and I knew it. Every good board was offset by a bad one and we couldn’t seem to gain any real ground. The results bore that out and we finished with a 49% game.

The second session was a battle of part scores with few games being bid and a lot of competitive auctions. Again the hands were being particularly unfriendly, and pushing “just one more level” was usual met with a bad trump split, a posse of offside honors and the discovery that the opponents had already gone too high — and since I wasn’t getting any good hands, it was a situation that oddly played to my strengths. (“And, pray tell, just which ‘strengths’ are those?” “Drinking coffee and making snarky remarks.”) So maybe the bad cards weren’t playing to my strengths so much as keeping me from indulging my weaknesses.

Anyway we had a much better session, in no small part due to the fact that I wasn’t playing very much. My most significant contribution was a bit of particularly brain-dead defense that gave the declarer an overtrick in a part score contract that should have been going down one.

Then in the last round I picked up three good hands in a row, each better than the last. On the first one, I opened 1NT with a minimum flat 15 HCP, and that ended the auction. I took advantage of imperfect defense to make four for a top. On the next hand, I again had a NT hand, but this time I was in fourth seat and my LHO opened the bidding 1♥, partner passed, my RHO responded 1♠ and even though we weren’t playing a “sandwich NT” and I did have both majors stopped, I decided it was better to double since most of my points were in the minors. My partner bid 2♦ which ended the auction and she made three for a very good score. But by far the most interesting hand I had all day was the last one. Not-vul. against not-vul., in third seat I picked up:

♠ AQx
♥ x
♦ KQxx
♣ AKxxx

The bidding was passed to me and I opened 1♣. My LHO, of course, overcalled 1♥ and my partner doubled which was passed back to me. The right bid with this hand is 2♦; but I don’t want to buy it for 2♦ when I know we have a 4-3 spade fit and I don’t particularly want to hear 2♥ to my left which will almost certainly be the case over either 2♦ or 1♠. Unfortunately a jump to 2♠ while describing my point count promises, nay guarantees 4 spades, but that is what I did anyway. My LHO now bid 3♥ and my partner bid 3♠ ending the auction.

Now I know I’m getting a bad spade split, but since I’d escaped undoubled I assumed it would be 4-2 instead of 5-1. Turns out it wasn’t either, it was 6-0.

There’s a reason that Garbage’s “Only Happy When it Rains” is in pretty heavy rotation in the ‘bridge mix’ on my iPod. There’s nothing worse than figuring out how to avoid taking a finesse only to find out that it was onside and so everyone who took it is getting the same score as you anyway. I feel that it is to my advantage to have the cards badly placed because they will be badly placed for everyone else and I might just be able to work out a solution that is better than others’; of course, this is probably because I’ve had a lot of practice playing in lousy contracts.

Making 3♠ was the highlight of my day, though someone in my section got doubled and also made it for the top. The whole hand (rotated to make me South, though in actuality I was sitting West) can be found here.

We had a 59% game which was enough for a section top. We didn’t make it into the overalls, but at least I finally won some gold points at this tournament.

I’m only happy when it rains
I’m only happy when it’s complicated
And though I know you can’t appreciate it
I’m only happy when it rains
You know I love it when the news is bad
Why it feels so good to feel so sad
I’m only happy when it rains

Jul
16

Birds of a Feather

I sat down across from Doc for the first time in almost a year and picked up:

♠ QJxx
♥ xx
♦ Axxx
♣ AT

Doc opened 1♣. I bid 1♠. He reversed into 2♦. I raised to 3♦ and was thinking that a slam was a vague possibility when he jumped to 6♦. There are a number of bids that would have been better, but considering the fact that he felt his hand was worth a jump to 6♦ and I’m looking at both of his minor suit aces I felt that I had to bid 7♦. It’s a very poor percentage slam, but it happens to make.

Our opponents looked despondent, but I knew their teammates and I told them, “If anyone else in this room would go to seven it’s the guy who’s sitting in my seat at the other table.” They looked unconvinced, but that guy is a lunatic (takes one to know one) and that terrible 30% grand slam was the only push of the match.

Jul
09

The Devil Made Me Do It

I like bidding and the worse my hand is the more I seem to like it. One time I uncharacteristically chose not to open in third seat at favorable vulnerability, my partner alerted it, and when the startled opponent asked what my pass meant, my partner explained, “She only has twelve cards.” I have very poor impulse control.

I was playing with Yin, it was the last round and we were having a mediocre game despite the previous five boards against a pair whose bidding and play was completely nonsensical. It was impossible to know what was going on — every aspect of the hands, the bidding, the play, the defense, it was all just noise from their direction. We got good scores against them, but by the time they left I was mentally cooked. And then the best East-West pair sat down.

My RHO opened 1♦ and I looked at my hand and saw this:

♠ QTxxx
♥ Qxxxx
♣ x
♦ xx

And, I just couldn’t resist the urge to do something so I bid 2♦. My partner bid 2♠ which got doubled. When I put my hand down his comment was, “That’s a really shitty hand.” “Yes, but all of my points are in my suits.” “At least the vulnerability is with us.” “Vulner-what?,” I said. (Oh, did I not mention that we were vulnerable against not-vulnerable?) Turns out -800 wasn’t a good score (surprise, surprise). There was a grand slam in diamonds their way, but no one was bidding it or even six for that matter, still my bid is inexcusable at that vulnerability. After the hand I apologized. (One of the opponent’s noted I should have apologized when I put the hand down as dummy initially.) Later I would apologize again in writing only this time I would include references to my own low moral character and general flare for the f_cking idiotic.

Still the question remains of why I would even think of making that bid in the first place. I wouldn’t have done it at a tournament, I tend to view club games at the place to experiment. I do keep getting the question posed to me in various forms of just what a person needs for these “shapely bids”. The answer, is complicated, but certainly red against white, more than 4 HCP — a lot more. And then there’s the question of whether or not I’d do it again if the vulnerability were favorable. I might, especially if my partner were a passed hand. Yin would tell you that I’m a f_cking idiot for even contemplating a bid like that at any vulnerability, but he’s wrong. I’m a f_cking idiot for making that bid at unfavorable vulnerability and I won’t do it again, in part because Yin made me swear that the next time I make a Michael’s cuebid I’ll have at least 5 HCP.