Sep
26

Fish

I joined the company softball team. Stop laughing. Seriously stop, I’m afraid you’re going to hurt yourself. Have you regained your composure?

The softball team is not very good, in fact, I only joined after many assurances that I would not and could not make them any worse. No one is more surprised than me that, after two games, I’ve found that I kind of like softball. I’m a bridge player, so my idea of exercise is sitting East-West, but chasing a ball around a field with eight of my co-workers is sort of fun. The thing is I can’t get over how positive everyone is, even when we’re losing by some unseemly margin. No one says anything about the dozens of unforced errors, but do something right, or even half-right and vocal enthusiasm abounds. In my experience, this is the exact opposite of the dynamic found in the average bridge club. Softball may bruise one’s body, but bridge bruises one’s ego.

There’s a lot of talk about how bridge is dying out as a game in this country and there are those pondering just how to leverage the popularity of poker to revive the popularity of bridge. But the fact is bridge is not particularly friendly to newcomers, whereas poker (and desperate softball teams) welcome new players with open arms. And like bridge the poker world is full of huge, surly egos; but at whichever level one is playing, weaker players are more than welcome — even if it is just because the more experienced players want to rob them blind. While it’s true that you aren’t very likely to lose hundreds, much less thousands, of dollars at a duplicate bridge club in one night, you are pretty likely to get insulted — probably by your partner.

At best experienced bridge players behave like weaker players are a nuisance to be tolerated and at worst they openly berate them; and unless that changes, this game that I love really is dying. I guess I’ve taken up softball just in time.

Aug
26

Salt

Do I play bridge because I’m lonely? Or am I lonely because I play bridge? Could those be non-rival possibilities?

I do try not to take bridge stuff personally, but I can’t help it sometimes. I asked my teacher if we could play a session before I move and his reaction was less than enthusiastic. In fact, it was pretty obvious he didn’t want to and his reason rang false, as if it were formulated to spare my feelings. I don’t know what his real reason might be. It could be that suffering through 24 boards with me really is that awful, more likely it’s just that he’d prefer to spend the limited time he has to play bridge nowadays playing with someone else — and I can’t begrudge him that. Still I’ve been like a raw nerve at the table since, every piece of criticism, no matter how constructive, feels like a personal attack. Pity those poor souls who do want to play with me.

Jerry Nelson, the voice of Count von Count on Sesame Street, has died. The Count has been my favorite Sesame Street character since I was a kid. Often when I should be keeping track of the count on a bridge hand what I’m really doing is hearing the Count in my head saying things like, “Three heart cards played ah ah ah.” It’s only rarely helpful, but it is entertaining. Ah ah ah.

Aug
15

Kicking Nixon

The best thing I can say about tonight’s game with Yin was that it ended early enough for me to catch a late show. Or as he put it, “The horse ran out of track.” We hit our stride in the 4th round, but since there were only seven tables and we were playing four boards a round with a sit out at table seven for East-West, that meant we hit our stride, had a sit out and then played the last round. Adding to our misery we were behind an incredibly slow pair so we waited between every round.

During one such lull in the action, apropos of nothing (well, it was likely apropos of something I’d done in the last round, I just don’t know which of my many questionable bids prompted the remark), Yin casually mentioned that the Mad Scientist thought playing with the ‘bots on BBO was ruining my bidding.

“Huh?”
“Yeah, he said the ‘bots are rotting your brain. You don’t feel a need to describe your hand anymore because you’re playing so much with the ‘bots.”

This coming from the man who had just opened 1NT with an unremarkable 11 HCP in first seat (granted they were playing a weak NT, but not quite that weak) by way of a man who twice bypassed our suit fit to play in a doomed 6NT contract (one of which made, but they both should have been down one). I suppose this is what I get for showing up on time instead of early. Yes, they’ve both been witness to and victim of more than their fair share of my doing incredibly dumb things, and perhaps grabbing a beer together so they can b_tch about me would be cheaper and more effective than therapy, maybe they’ve even earned it but it’s an awful thought.

Maybe that sounds strange considering I write a ‘blog detailing all the bad stuff I do at the bridge table. But let’s face it, writing about the one time I took a two-way finesse in the right direction would be pretty boring, not to mention, short. For me this ‘blog serves as both a catharsis and a preemptive strike, to paraphrase a quote from an otherwise unremarkable television show, “You can’t say anything that will hurt me, because nothing you can say about me can possibly be worse than what I’ve thought about myself in the last thirty seconds.” (And, yes, this would be the catharsis part of the ‘blog feel free to skip ahead to something interesting.)

Weirdly, it’s kind of a pecking order thing. I’m okay with the Mad Scientist criticizing me. Both the Mad Scientist and Washington are far better players than I am, I may not always agree with them, but I always listen to their criticisms and I don’t question their right to make them. Yin and Doc, on the other hand, are far closer to me on the bridge player hierarchy. It’s true in both cases that they were both significantly better than I when we first started playing, but I closed the gap so I expect them to keep a lid on it for the most part (and I try, with only marginal success, not to criticize them so I understand how difficult that can be). Anyway I’ve given Yin plenty of ammo on my own, he doesn’t need any help finding flaws in my abilities.

The big criticism I keep hearing from TMS (and the one he expressed to Yin) is that I “mastermind” the bids, but there’s a lot of gray area, because sometimes a bid that doesn’t describe one’s hand isn’t just reasonable, it’s tactical. For example, tonight in 3rd seat, both sides vulnerable, I picked up this:

♠ K
♥ KQJTxxx
♦ AKxx
♣ x

A four loser hand, almost good enough for me to want to open it 2♣ but there’s a major flaw and that is the stiff king of spades, not only is it not worth 3 HCP, that singleton means that the opponents are very likely to have a spade fit. If I open this one heart and it gets passed out, I might be sick, but I don’t think it’s likely that it will get passed out because of the aforementioned spade fit. If I open this one heart and get a chance to jump shift into diamonds, my partner will have a good idea of what I have in my hand, but so will the opponents. Does an opening bid of 4♥ describe my hand to my partner? No. But 4♥ is where I want to play this hand. Yin’s a passed hand and while he could conceivably have two aces (and a third round diamond control) making us gin for six, chances are he does not and finding out about those two aces which he probably doesn’t have will come at the expense of not only describing my hand to the opponents, but giving them a chance to find their fit. So I opened the hand 4♥ and got to play it there. This was Yin’s hand:

♠ AQxxx
♥ 9x
♦ xx
♣ KJxx

I made six because of a favorable opening spade lead that gave me a chance to ditch my club loser and ruff my diamonds before letting them in with their ace of trump. Had I opened my hand 1♥, I almost certainly would have gotten a spade bid from my partner and now they will lead a club to hold me to five, four if they lead the club and switch to a trump. Sometimes what TMS calls “master-minding” is just good bridge.

And while we’re on the subject of me doing the right thing for a change, during the “no stress” duplicate game we played one of the boards out of order and entered the score before someone caught the error, not really a big deal since correcting the scores isn’t difficult, but the problem was that we all knew what the scores had been so far for the board we had yet to play. We discussed the issue and all swore to bid as if we didn’t know where the contract had ended up at the other tables, which in this case was 2♥ or 3♣ our way going down one or two.

My RHO opened 1♠, I had a very nice 14 HCP for a 2♥ overcall. My LHO passed. My partner passed. And now my RHO fiddled with a double card and joked, “I wish I could take advantage of knowing the scores.” I replied, “I’m not saying I’m the best player here, but if anyone here can make 2♥, it’s me.” Having said this, I became convinced I was about to go down three. She passed. I made two. The key to the hand was to stop pulling trump when the bad split came to light and then throw the opponents in a couple of times, “rendering unto Caesar” as the Mad Scientist would say. In a game with more experienced players, I would not have been the only person to find this line. Sometimes I’m cocky, but I’m only rarely delusional.

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.

Jun
16

The World Gone Mad

So the other day I played good bridge and got a lousy score. Yesterday I played lousy bridge and got a good score. Perhaps my perspective is so warped I can’t tell when I’m playing well from when I’m playing poorly or perhaps the scores really do signify nothing; these are, of course, non-rival possibilities.

On my way to the bridge club yesterday, I stopped at the pharmacy to buy, among other things, some highly caffeinated something or other to jolt my brain into some semblance of attentiveness. The weather was mild and I was driving along with my windows rolled down and the radio up. As I pulled into the parking lot and angled my car toward a parking spot, I noticed that the driver of the vehicle in the adjacent parking space was turning toward me with a look on his face that older people generally reserve for loud music, especially loud music with thumping bass lines or crunchy guitar solos. I recognized him from the bridge club and so shot him my most winning smile and waved, only then did I turn off the music. His facial expression became far more difficult to read when he recognized me.

On a related note, I finally realized what the taste of Red Bull reminds me of: Hubba Bubba Bubble Gum Tape. I loved that stuff when I was a kid.

“It gives you wings!”

I was having a tough time dealing with the opponents’ bids. I couldn’t figure out what they meant and first mis-defended one hand, then misplayed another as a direct result of my mistaken inferences. On one hand the Mad Scientist wanted to know why I had played a hand in a particular way and my response was that I had decided to play as if my opponents were all crazy. I think I may have offended at least one of the opponents present at that moment, but then, as if to prove my point, they had a completely insane auction on the very next hand involving a reverse Drury bid that was waived off by the opener and then a jump to 3NT by the responder that the opener then passed — perhaps she didn’t really think they had a nine-card trump fit after all? And perhaps he shouldn’t have passed in the first place? We’re all mad here.

One of the more crazy making sequences that came up involved a little madness of my own. TMS opened the bidding in 2nd seat, vulnerable against vulnerable:

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

* Long hesitation
** Longer hesitation
*** No hesitation?!

My hand:

♠ (void)
♥ QTxx
♦ KT9x
♣ 98xxx

Once TMS bid 2♣ I became convinced that we were probably making 3♣ and I was all ready to bid over RHO’s response to the balancing take-out double. While I was pretty sure from her initial hesitation that she had long spades, her bid of 2♠ threw me for a loop and I decided to wait and see what happened. It also seemed to throw her partner. There might be some question as to what I should have done had 2NT been passed around to me; I probably would have gone ahead and bid 3♣. But when my RHO went to 3NT I had two thoughts. First and foremost, I think we would have made 3♣. I know TMS well enough to know that vulnerable he has stuff for his bids and my hand goes way up in value once he shows club length. Secondly, we are getting a zero if they make 3NT on this hand because this auction is so crazy no one else is playing it there. So I doubled, knowing I was asking for a spade lead, hoping it wouldn’t matter. Initially things were not going well for our side, and I could feel a growing sense of incredulity (read: hostility) from the other side of the table as I played low card after low card. At best, TMS was trying to figure out just what I could possibly have that would inspire me to double. At worst, he was planning my untimely death. Lucky for me when the dust cleared they were down two and so I got to live to double another day.

Surprisingly, the overly risky 7NT I bid was not a cold top, someone else bid it too. Finding either minor grand slam would have been more of an accomplishment, even if it didn’t matchpoint quite so well, and our system would have given me the tools to do so, only I’ve been stumbling over this one particular sequence. Earlier in the day I had mentioned to TMS that I was struggling with it and he gave me his patented, “I don’t know why you’re finding this so hard,” look. After the game we looked at the sequence again and he was able to resolve the problem for me.

The issue was that over a 1NT opening bid (12-14 HCP) we have a series of bids that are standard-ish (e.g. Stayman, Jacoby transfers). And, over the sequence of 1♣-1♦/1♥-1NT (15-17 HCP), we have the same series of bids. However, over the sequence of 1♣-1♠-1NT (also 15-17 HCP), the bids are all different and I keep f_cking them up. The reason they change so dramatically is that a 1♣ opening bid is either an opening hand with clubs or a NT type hand with 15-19 HCP (may or may not have clubs). Both 1♦ and 1♥ by responder are transfer bids to hearts and spades respectively — showing 4+ cards in the major and very little else (the responder will clarify their hand later with subsequent bids or passes). The bid of 1♠ is an asking bid that translates to asking the opener, “Do you have clubs or do have a NT hand?” The key component that I was missing however is that more than just an asking bid, there is a very limited number of hand types (five, to be exact) that the responder can have to make that bid. Unless the responder has a very big hand, they do not have a major — if they did they would have transferred. That means that conventions like Stayman and Jacoby transfers are not only superfluous, but actually prevent the responder from being able to differentiate between the hands they could have when responding 1♠. Why, after all this time, I hadn’t seen that, I do not know. TMS managed to refrain from making any derogatory remarks about my mental capacity, but I could tell he was wondering the same thing.

I realized that I would be too keyed up to sleep immediately after the game so I opted for a late lunch or an early dinner. While I ate I started reading a book about an American who had spent most of his life enamored with Paris as he had observed it when visiting there for a week with his parents as an adolescent. He lands a job there only to find that the city did not live up to the myth he’d constructed about it in his mind.

A few chapters in, this thought struck me: “If I quit playing bridge, I could go to Paris.” Suddenly the piece of beef in my mouth seemed very chewy. I didn’t have to crunch the numbers to know immediately that it was true, the money I spend on card fees and traveling to tournaments would easily fund such a trip — plus without the demands on my time, I’d have enough vacation days to go. The thing is, I don’t particularly want to go to Paris, though I’ve always kind of assumed I would one day. But then another thought, if I didn’t play bridge I could fly to Chicago, rent a car, and drive Route 66 from there to Santa Monica. I put down the book. That’s a trip I’ve wanted to take since I was in high school. I swallowed and the bite seemed to stick in my throat. I could stop in the town where the herds of wild donkeys wander around like squirrels. I could buy t-shirts at all the tourist traps. I could take my lap top and write a ‘blog documenting my adventures, posting photos from along the way. Next spring, instead of going off to the giant tournament in Gaitlinburg, I could drive Route 66 like I’ve always wanted, but I won’t if I’m still playing bridge. Somehow I hadn’t seen that either.

May
29

The Scream

An opponent speaking to my partner about me, in front of me, “She’s a newcomer who’s on fire.” My response, “That’s because my partners keep throwing gasoline and matches at me.”

Speaking of partners with homicidal intent, I got to play against the Mad Scientist twice today and both times he mostly just glared at me. I don’t think he even said, “Hello”. You’d think he’d be thrilled to have me as an opponent instead of a partner, like so happy there are balloons and cake involved happy; but I guess not. I don’t recall doing anything dumber than usual with him last time we played. Perhaps he’s angry because he thinks I’m dumber with him than with other partners, but I’m pretty much the same amount of dumb all the time.

I played a lot of hands tonight and my declaring was pretty good, if I do say so myself, a fact that Yin remarked upon, “You’re playing a lot and we’re still doing well.” Major vote of confidence there, perhaps it’s time to invest in a flame retardant jump-suit.

When we finished, but before all of the scores had been entered, we had a 65% game and were in first with 2nd place right behind us with 63%. I left when the standings switched and spent the ride home thinking about the matchpoint I cost us when I thoughtlessly blocked a suit on the very last hand. We should have had a top by beating the contract two, but instead we tied for a top with two other pairs by beating it one. Maybe one matchpoint didn’t end up making the difference afterall.

But then I started thinking about my biggest sin of the night which was, not surprisingly, of the overbidding variety and would have made the difference. Vul. against vul, I had:

♠ Qx
♥ Q
♦ KJTxx
♣ AKQxx

My RHO was the dealer and opened:

(1H)-2NT-(3H)-4C-
(4H)-5C-All Pass

I was afraid of a big two-suited major fit their way that could conceivably net them ten tricks, but as it turns out 4♥ would have been down two. 5♣ was down one. I should have doubled which would have shown the “big” unusual NT hand (I don’t have any exta shape to show with a 5♣ bid — it was a really dumb bid in retrospect) and then if Yin pulled, at the very least, it would have been his fault. So this pretty much sums up my drive home:

Der Schrei der Natur, Edvard Munch (1893)

May
22

The Agony and the Ecstacy

When one has a lousy game, the drive home feels like stumbling back after a bad night, hungover and ashamed of where one woke up. But when one plays well and wins, the drive home is exhilarating like that after a perfect night capped by a long-awaited kiss.

I got to experience both of these today; little wonder then that I’m so hooked on this game. Of course, when I do badly it’s a reflection on both my intellect and my skewed priorities; as well as proof that I will never live up to my potential and that I’ve made very poor life choices. Whereas when I win, it’s because I had a good partner and we got lucky.

There was one hand tonight that stands out which had nothing to do with luck but everything to do with having a good partner. The Mad Scientist and I defeated 2♥X, vulnerable, by 5 for +1400. (And no, the opponents had not had a bidding misunderstanding.) It only occurred to me later that TMS and I had actually made 4♥ our way; but I can’t imagine it would have been nearly so much fun and I doubt the opening lead would have been as favorable if we’d instead played it that way. (Incidentally, the double turned out to be just a bit of gratuitous violence because +500 would also have been a top for us.)

In fourth seat, vul. against vul., I opened:

♠ x
♥ AJ9x
♦ Kxx
♣ AQT9x

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

* 15-17 NT-type hand

(What do you mean that hand doesn’t look balanced to you?) In any event, I thought 1NT was a better rebid than 2♣, you know, just in case the opponents decided to step out of line — which they did.

My RHO actually had 10 HCP, but only 2 hearts and unfortunately for him four of his points were tied up in the wholly worthless KJxx of clubs. TMS led a club. I won the nine, and returned my stiff spade to TMS’s ace. He led his second club, this time I won my jack and returned the ten. I knew both the declarer and TMS were void, but the declarer did not ruff and instead pitched a diamond. Anyway, TMS scored one of his baby trump and believed my high club and so returned a spade for me to ruff. Then I played my ace of clubs forcing declarer to ruff high.

It gets a little fuzzy after that (the fog of war, I guess, this was the Battle of New Orleans and they were the British), but in the moment it was almost as if I could see through the backs of the cards, that’s how clearly I could picture the declarer’s and my partner’s hands. I felt omniscient in this one small, impractical regard (I suppose that’s what it is like for TMS on just about every hand). Anyway, I know that we won a diamond trick, I got to ruff another spade and I pulled declarer’s last trump with my ace to make my baby club good at the end. It’s a tad worrying that I could get so much pleasure out of something so brutal. Who knew defense could be so much fun?!

May
18

A Strange Case

There was a party today at the bridge club in honor of the Mad Scientist reaching the level of Pimento Life Master. If the party had gone off yesterday as planned he would have had a good partner to celebrate this accomplishment with, but as it was he was stuck with me. He graciously claimed that this turn of events in and of itself was not unlucky and was only made so by the fact that the person who showed up today to be his partner was the “evil” version of me and by “evil” he meant “stupid” and by “stupid” I mean “brain dead”.

I made the same basic mistake today … twice. While on defense, I had a safe lead and I instead made a risky one; both times it cost us. The one that really baffles me though was when I led away from my AJT holding because I mistakenly believed that TMS had the king. (Though as he noted, “I didn’t signal for a diamond, you did.”) If I instead make the safe lead, forcing the declarer to ruff in her hand, then she has to lead the diamonds and there just isn’t a possible holding for which that wouldn’t be preferable. Heads we tie, tails we lose. I would have liked nothing more than to slink away immediately after the game (the second such mistake had been on the very last board), but the owner had asked if I couldn’t stick around to help her fix something that had gone screwy with her website. I know only enough to be dangerous, but after a bit of poking around I was able to resolve the issue.

A couple of weeks back, the morning before we were scheduled to play, I got an uncharacteristically long e-mail from Yin outlining all the things we needed to work on in preparation for the event we are scheduled to play in at the NABC this summer. Of course, by “we” he meant me. Further the whole list really could be whittled down to a single word: consistency.

I didn’t respond really well to that e-mail, but I admit that I am a wildly inconsistent player, and if I knew how to fix that about myself believe me I would. Turns out I never really know who is going to show up either.

"I am painfully situated, Utterson; my position is a very strange--a very strange one. It is one of those affairs that cannot be mended by talking."

May
14

Instant Karma

After coming home to construct a tinfoil hat and take a quick nap, I had to dash back off to the bridge club to open up for the evening game. Fortunately for me, I didn’t have to run it this time. Unfortunately for my partner, and most everyone else, I was in a bad mood.

During the first round he made what I thought was an obvious mistake (though probably no more so than any of half a dozen things I did this afternoon) and I snapped at him. I immediately apologized, but the damage was done and he was off his game for the rest of the night. If you’re mean to your partner they will not improve, in fact they will get worse — probably much worse. I, of all people, should know that.

And besides, this is a game, it really is supposed to be fun and whether I was having fun or not, it was completely unfair for me to ruin it for my partner. I’m such a jerk. I did manage to bite my tongue for the rest of the evening, but it made for a long night.

May
14

Wasted

I pissed off the Mad Scientist even more than usual today; which was really a shame because I started out playing the spots off the cards. I had some passing thought along the lines of “Maybe I really can play this game,” which was, of course, the kiss of death.

TMS’s frustration initially took the form of paternal disappointment. “Please don’t bid like that,” he said sadly while contemplating the hand on which I made a particularly lousy preempt. Yes, we were vulnerable, but so were they and was it my fault no one was bidding the slam? (Yes, yes it was.)

The disappointment soon turned to flat out annoyance which I responded to with my usual poise and grace (which is to say, when I wasn’t digging my heels in to defend my questionable choices d_mn stupid ideas, I was sulking). The truth is I wasn’t loving some of what he was doing either. And that storm front of wrong reasoning meeting wrong headedness turned many potential tops into below averages or worse. The tragedy of it all is that this was one of those magic days when we were getting handed good boards just for showing up in some cases; and the fact that we couldn’t capitalize on that just by managing not to be total f_ck ups was and is really eating at me. Perhaps that was bothering him a bit too. (“Ya think?” “Not often, no.”)

With all this brewing in my brain, I hopped in the car and turned on the radio praying the music would distract me from myself. The first song that came on was a plaintive voice singing, “Every-body knows I’m in over my head … over my head.”

I changed the station, “It’s just another manic Monday. Oooh oohh. I wish it were Sunday.”

AHCK! I shoved in the mix tape I keep on deck for just such occasions, “Stupid girl, you stupid girl, all you had you wasted. All you had you wasted.”

I couldn’t turn it off fast enough. This is exactly the kind of thing that makes people start wearing tin foil hats while ranting about the messages they are receiving directly from the little people inside of the radio.