Jul
01

Accusatory Giblet

My well documented inability to estimate matchpoints on the fly (even with a Bridgemate® giving a current percentage at the time the score is entered) was on display again. The Mad Scientist left without even looking at the score which is never a good sign. I was estimating us at somewhere maybe a little north of 50% so imagine my surprise when the score was 62% and we were in 1st.

I called the Mad Scientist from the car, “Did you think we were having a good game today?”

There was a pause while he wondered, for the umpteenth time that day, if I was an idiot. “Uhh, no,” he said mildly, “We did not have a good game. We were giving away a lot of boards for no good reason.”

My mind flashed to the 3NT I doubled and then mis-defended. It should have been down two — “should” being the operative word there. “Well, we won,” I said.

“That’s weird,” he said flatly. As far as he is concerned, winning bears very little relevance as to whether or not we had a good game. It was, in fact, a mere curiosity. I had called because I thought it might make him somewhat happier (with me?), but now I was thinking about the huge game we should have had instead. As is so often the case, the costliest mistakes were ones that could have been easily avoided.

In my partnerships with Yin and TMS, I’m feeling a distinct lack of trust. I’m not saying it’s completely unwarranted, but even on hands when I do the right thing I often sense waves of disapproval radiating from the other side of the table. When it works, I’m vindicated at least temporarily. But just because something doesn’t work, doesn’t mean I was wrong to take whatever action it was that I took — even if a play or bid will be right 85% of the time there’s still that 15% lurking out there. But with my partner predisposed against me in this way, well, to say it is in uphill battle to convince them I was right would be putting it mildly.

There was a hand like that today, I went ahead to game after TMS made a merely competitive bid in an auction that appeared to be taking place with a pinochle deck. Game is cold our way. Most everyone is there; which is to say, I took the normal action in the midst of an abnormal auction. Even while I was pulling the bid out of my box, I knew he wasn’t happy about it. I bid game because I trusted his initial overcall. Had our positions been reversed, I wonder if he would have.

I really do want to be a trustworthy partner, and toward that I end I try to reign in my aggressive bidding usually by over-correcting and then my bids become too conservative — not that such adjustments ever last long. I can’t figure out why it’s so difficult for me to calibrate, control myself just enough so that my partners will stop worrying and love the bomb and cut me some slack. I’m never going to be a machine, and as much as I love conventions and gadgets, on a personal level I feel like bidding is more art than science. Not to mention my chronic case of slam-itis. I love bidding slams, even at matchpoints where it just doesn’t pay off to push for close slams.

The first time I was faced with bidding a grand slam that I was also going to get to play at a tournament it was in a pairs game. Doc and I had a very clear, scientific auction. I could count the tricks and I correctly weighed the risk of being in spades versus being in no trump — all very clinical and detached, but my heart was pounding the entire time. It was a thrill to play, even when I realized that 7NT was on and I couldn’t be sure it would matchpoint particularly well (as it turned out it did, those of us who ventured to seven only did so in suit). Logically I knew that hand would be of no more import than the part score I’d play next, but 2♠ is just never going to be as sexy as 7.

Which reminds me, after the game I remembered I needed to stop at a supermarket and turned into a shopping center that I don’t usually frequent. There I found one of those clearance bookstores that pop up like mushrooms in one of the previously abandoned store fronts. It was cavernous, cool and a damp and huge — thousands and thousands of books most stacked in haphazard groupings, some still in boxes and crates. It was impossible to tell who, if anyone, worked there because the handful of people in the store were all just milling about. At thirty paces, I spotted a bridge book tucked into one of the boxes (I have bridge book radar). It wasn’t a title that I was interested in, but since there seemed to be some strange method to the madness I examined the other books in the box. Flanking it were a self-help guide entitled How to Make Anyone Fall in Love with You and an “A to Z guide to sex toys”. Might this have been a subtle suggestion that bridge may harm one’s romantic prospects?

May
21

License to Bid

One of the first times I remember the Mad Scientist speaking more than two words to me it was to ask if I had read Mel Colchamiro’s book, How You Can Play Like an Expert. I told him that I hadn’t; he told me that I should. I went home and ordered a copy. It would be months before TMS would deign to speak to me again.

The book arrived shortly before I left for a tournament in Pittsburgh where I was meeting Doc. When he spotted it he told me he had just finished reading it too. We compared notes and found that we both gravitated to one rule in particular: Mel’s Balancing Rule of 2.

In a nutshell, the rule states that once the bidding has gone: (1NT)-P-(P) one should reopen based on shape, not points; which is to say if you have a void, a singleton or two doubletons you should reopen even especially when you’re broke. Your side is marked to have about half of the high card points and the weaker you are the more points your partner has and those points are perched directly over the opener’s head. People are always moaning about trying to make their 1NT contracts, but to defeat a 1NT contract the defense has to make 1NT without seeing each other’s hands. Doc and I quickly modified our agreement to include playing Meckwell in the balancing seat (keeping Cappelletti in the direct seat) because in exchange for surrendering our penalty double, we’d keep the auction lower.

The idea of balancing on shape and not points in this particular case makes so much sense that once I read it, my only question was why I hadn’t thought of it on my own. While it’s true that I bid with lousy hands anyway, I don’t often have such a good excuse.

Fast forward to a few months later, I was playing at a tournament with Yin and one of these balancing after a NT bids came up. I knew we had discussed this rule, but it had been awhile back and I hadn’t convinced him to give up Cappelletti in the balancing seat. I don’t remember what my hand was now, but it was pretty bad and we were probably vulnerable. When the dummy came down Yin said, “Cappelletti is rolling over in his grave.” “But he’s not dead.” “He is now. Your bid just killed him.” Which is to say, Yin did not see the logic in my bid. (What else is new?) On the ride home from the tournament, I gave a labored explanation of my actions. Yin didn’t say much, but I walked away from the discussion feeling like I’d made my point.

And just a few days ago, an e-mail landed in my inbox from Doc, discussing a “Balancing Rule of 2″ of bid that went completely awry for him and his partner. His hand was exceptionally weak, ergo her hand was exceptionally strong. They got too high. They got doubled. She couldn’t believe that he would bid with 3 HCP. (Doc is a man after my own heart.) He had to compose a lengthy e-mail to convince her that he was not in fact crazy, but that there was a sound reason to make such a bid. The whole story sounded familiar. And so I imagine there are a bunch of us who have read Mel’s book wandering around out there, scaring the h_ll out of our partners with the bids we’re willing to make when balancing after a NT opener — but there really is a method to our madness.

Apr
28

Loaded Banana

“Oh good, we’re skipping [the Mad Scientist],” one of the better players muttered to his partner as they walked by our table. One day some player I have a healthy respect for will say, “Oh good, we’re skipping her.” Probably I won’t hear it because I’ll be too busy listening to my partner call me names and I’ll miss what is actually the sincerest form of flattery.

Those of us who play bridge with a chip on our shoulder, as if we have something to prove, are always looking to lock horns with the best players in the room. The good players, of course, aren’t typically even aware that they’ve been targeted. At best, the up-and-coming player is viewed as a minor annoyance; at worst, they are seen as a mere conduit to the next top. It’s a sign that you’ve arrived when the old guard cease to enthusiastically embrace these skirmishes. The next best thing to being someone the good players are wary of, is playing with someone the good players are wary of, but one day I too will stop giving out more tops than bottoms and will rise to the level of fearsome adversary minor annoyance.

Speaking of chips on shoulders, the Hen was there today. On our first hand against her, I opened the bidding, the Hen’s partner over-called, TMS raised and then the Hen raised her partner. I accidentally pulled out two pass cards at once. She made a remark about how that was an extra weak bid, “She has a terrible suit.” In fact, I had a good suit, but a terrible hand, not that it mattered. On the next hand the same thing happened (one of the pass cards was bent and was catching the card next to it). She said something again. At the end of the bidding I shoved the offending pass card toward the back of the box. Though she would have claimed to be joking she was actually insinuating that I meant something by it, which, needless to say, I did not. While she’s hated me ever since I made that alleged psyche bid, she seems genuinely fond of TMS (who isn’t?) so I doubt she thinks he would take part in such a harebrained scheme which makes the whole thing even more ridiculous. Or maybe she really was joking, chickens aren’t known for their sense of humor.

The Mad Scientist and I came in 2nd by one lousy matchpoint. I surrendered both the tying and winning points dozens of times today, but the last two rounds were especially bad. I got lazy on defense and botched things on a hand when I had only roughly sketched in the count without really working it out. TMS noted that I should have known it was safe to tap declarer in my long suit because even though she had length she’d be forced to ruff in front of me on subsequent tricks, never setting up her honor in that suit. I explained that I hadn’t wanted to risk setting up her jack, but I guess I looked stricken because when I was done he said, “It’s okay.” I said, “It’s really not.” And he said, “You’re right; you’re a f_ckin’ kumquat.” And with that status quo was restored. At times, TMS has threatened to bring a banana with him to give to me whenever I’ve really blown it (a nod to my suggesting he might do better training a monkey to play bridge). This seems like a good plan, mostly because when enacted I’ll have a life-time supply of free bananas.

Yin and I have been working on not becoming demonstrably angry with one another at the table. Perhaps he and I should adopt something like the banana system. Since we’re far closer in skill level than the TMS and I, my thinking is that we should exchange the “banana” whenever one of us commits a grievous error. Like a game of hot potato in slow motion, the goal will be not to be the person stuck with the banana at the end of the session. (Errors induced by partner, presumably so that they can unburden themselves of the banana will not count.) Of course, it doesn’t have to be a banana (which would almost certainly get bruised and smelly in the process), it could be a loaded die or a plastic figurine, something small, useless and funny that would both express our displeasure but sting less for the receiver than nasty remarks.

While I didn’t win at the club today, I still feel like a winner because I won an eBay auction for a first edition of The Four Aces System of Contract Bridge that was signed by all Four Aces (Oswald Jacoby, David Burnstine, Howard Schenken and Michael T. Vanderbilt). This particular copy was “awarded to Mr. Myer S. Kripke for correct solution of the Four Aces’ problem published in the Playbill.” I am a very happy kumquat.

Mar
16

Kicking It Up a Notch

Imagine my delight when one of my bridge book searches turned up this title, Making Violence Part of the Game.

Sadly, it turned out to be a false positive due to the fact that the author’s last name is “Bridges”, but at least I’ve found a sub-title for my future bridge magnum opus.

Feb
04

Living on in Infamy

I threw up a little bit in my mouth looking at today’s results. We tied for third/fourth in a five table game, but were a mere five matchpoints out of first and I definitely gave up more than five matchpoints on the last round.

I would have managed to both slink and storm out of the club, were such a thing indeed possible. The slinking was called for, but as for the storming, well, haste was needed lest I were to live to regret the next words out of my mouth which would only really have been notable for utilizing f_ck as a noun, a verb and an adverb all in the same sentence. I can be so very eloquent when angry, “I am the stupidest f_ck who has ever f_cked up a f_cking hand of bridge!” See? But I do try to keep the heavy swearing to a minimum within the hallowed halls of the bridge club.

I slunk/stormed/f_cked off toward a bookstore, my personal favorite location to stew in public. Actually, I had a coupon that was going to expire tomorrow and it wasn’t as if sleep was anywhere in the cards for the next few hours anyway. The parking lot was jammed, mostly due to the proximity of one of those theme-park restaurants. Apparently, the demand for $18 plates of microwaved pasta is so great in this community that there was a line out the door even at 3:15 in the afternoon. I wove my way up and down the aisles of the lot, searching for a space and dodging pedestrians clutching doggy bags. The bookstore itself was busier than usual, but not terribly crowded. Upon entering, I was confronted with a huge Valentine’s Day display and was ruefully amused by the red leather-bound journal emblazoned with a quote from Emily Dickinson, “Love is immortality.” This from the famously reclusive woman who proved beyond any reasonable doubt that it is not who or what one loves, but what one does that is the key to immortality. What I do is f_ck up bridge hands, someone grab me a chisel because what lies ahead certainly warrants preservation:

At trick two the declarer leads the Q♣ from their hand, in my hand I am holding the A8xxx and to my left in the dummy are the JT9xx. I have this thought, “That queen is a singleton!” It did not occur to me that if I am correct and that queen is indeed singleton then my partner must have the king and further it did not occur to me that if I am incorrect and that queen was not a singleton, then either the declarer must have the king, my partner has the singleton king or my partner is void and is about to ruff the queen; so of course, I hop up with my ace. I like to joke that I am not capable of having more than one thought in my head at a time, but it is at times like these that I worry that might actually be true. The Mad Scientist’s remark, “Well, that was bloggable.”

TMS opens a weak NT (12-14 HCP). I have 10 assorted HCP, not enough to invite, but his prospects of making 1NT seem very good. The opponents bid uninhibited up to 4♦. They’re vulnerable, we’re not. I double. My LHO has a freaky distributional minor suit hand with singletons in the majors. Her partner has the major suit aces and three diamonds. They make six.

And, last but certainly not least, head still spinning from the -1110, I fail to cash the setting trick on the last hand instead choosing to give the declarer a ruff and sluff. How’s that for an epitaph?

Back to the bookstore, I’ve made it to the games section. Their selection of bridge books is paltry, especially considering the floor space given over to board games, puzzles and even various sets of playing cards. I suppose when I first started playing bridge (“I know it was today, but what time today?”) I threw their inventory off a bit by buying whatever bridge titles they managed to stock, but now they are down to just four titles (though I did notice that Bridge for Dummies had made it onto one of their end displays with other “Dummies” titles). On the shelf above the meager bridge offerings was a large book entitled, The Book of Games: Strategy, Tactics & History by Jack Botermans. It looks very interesting, but a search of the index came up empty for either bridge or even whist which was disappointing. I put it back and settled on a biography of Hedy Lamarr, she of the gorgeous face and superlative intellect — now that’s immortality for you.

When I left the bookstore I realized I had absolutely no idea where I’d actually parked and had to spend a moment searching my memory for how the entrance to the store looked as I was walking toward it. I can’t remember my bidding agreements, how to count to thirteen or what my partner has discarded, but I can remember my angle of approach from the parking lot.

Jan
29

The Replacement

The sheer number of bridge books in existence is pretty remarkable. My own collection has swollen to over 130 titles and that isn’t even the tip of the iceberg. What I find particularly difficult to believe is that there is actually a whole sub-genre of bridge-themed mystery novels. I’m a thoroughgoing bridge addict with a longstanding crush on the character of one Sherlock Holmes and I still can’t muster any interest in such a thing. The only bridge mystery that I have any interest in solving is the motives of anyone who would want to play with the likes of me.

At least the Mad Scientist’s motives are perfectly clear, he wants someone to experiment on and use to test drive new conventions. I am his guinea pig, though I have reason to suspect he may soon be replacing me with an actual guinea pig. Yesterday at the club I could have sworn I saw a pair of beady little eyes staring out at me from beneath the Mad Scientist’s bidding box. Once while I was playing a hand I even heard a little snuffling coming from that side of the table, which everyone knows is the guinea pig equivalent of maniacal laughter. While Mr. Snuffles may be a better declarer and defender than me, there is one area in which I have him beat. That rodent will never be able to bid as well as me, mostly because he lacks opposable thumbs and getting the cards out of the bidding box is going to be damn near impossible without them.

Jul
09

Six Tricks

Whenever I pick up a new obsession, my first stop is the bookstore. Bridge was no different except notably in the number of books I’ve acquired on the subject. The first, and one of the best, was Eddie Kantar’s Bridge for Dummies. I moved on, still a dummy though, and read a number of other books as well. Apparently, writing bridge books is an occupation second only to playing bridge for many expert players; there are hundreds and hundreds of books on the subject. My collection is just the tip of the iceberg.

Recently Watson’s Play of the Hand at Bridgehad me missing Kantar and just about every other book I’d read on the subject (140 pages in I gave myself a break and have been assiduously avoiding it ever since). I carry the Watson with me and I know that without a steady partner now is the perfect time to work on my declarer play, but I just can’t bring myself to pick it up again. The impossible contracts which spring forth from my short term partnerships shall remain impossible for the time being.

Intimidated by Watson, the 335 pages I have left of his book and the foresight to know that when I do finish it I won’t have retained but a fraction of the content thus forcing me to read it over again … I’ve fled to greener pastures and this finds me reading Larry Cohen’s To Bid or Not to Bid at the moment.

One of the books highly recommended by my teacher was Dorothy Hayden Truscott’s Winning Declarer Play. I bought a copy of it relatively early on. Unfortunately, it is out-of-print and less computer savvy types have a hard time finding it. I’ve told a couple of people about used.addall.com which is my favorite source for hard to find books on any topic, including bridge. Still when collections of bridge books come up for sale on eBay the inclusion of Winning Declarer Play along with whatever other title I may be seeking is apt to push me toward buying the lot just so I have another copy to lend or give away. I sent one such copy on to a fellow bridge student and she was so pleased that she gave me lovely candle worth far more than the book, especially considering it had simply been included with a group of other books I was interested in.

I’d also give very high marks to Dan Romm’s Things Your Bridge Teacher Won’t Tell You, but whatever I might say about it couldn’t compare to the accolades implied by the fact someone actually walked off with it from the bridge club. Luckily that book isn’t out of print; I’ll have a harder time replacing the bookmark.