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
13

Friggatriskaidekaphobia

Today is the first day of the Life Master Pairs at the Summer NABC. Yin and I are playing in the < 1500 event. While I should be at home struggling to sleep, I am instead at work struggling to stay awake. I wonder if I’ll be able to find some place to crawl off and sleep in between sessions; I rather doubt it — which brings me back to the idea of having sound proof pods for rent at tournaments. The idea that I won’t even have time for a nap when I get home from work is really quite disheartening. Maybe I could squeeze in a really short one, like 45 minutes or something, but what are the chances I’ll be able to fall asleep? I guess it’ll be my old friend Joe to the rescue.

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.

Jun
02

The Bad & the Ugly

Today I established two things: 1) Bach’s Stress Rescue Remedy spray doesn’t work. It tastes like flowers and watered down whiskey. Instead of clearing my mind and relieving my tension, it mostly just makes me wish I had a shot of actual whiskey which, incidentally, would do a better job of both of those things.1 2) I am on my way to becoming one of those cranky, frog-like bridge players. Any day now you’ll find me hunched over at the table, motionless save to play a card or catch an unsuspecting fly with a flick of my tongue. I’ve seen the future and it isn’t pretty. Ribbit.

I took the night off from work so that I could play in the World Wide Bridge Contest with Yin. We may not come in last out of the whole wide world, but it isn’t for a lack of trying. The slight headache I had going into the game kept getting worse and worse as the night progressed. There was a sit out after the third round and I wandered off to a quiet, remote spot in the club to meditate listen to music on my iPod and play Angry Birds — little did I know that was going to be the high point of my evening.

On the next round, I woefully underbid the first hand, then in a joint effort overbid the next one and finally underbid the last one. Three bad scores and we stumbled on to the next round.

The worst was yet to come though, we muddled through the next couple of rounds with only one major, readily avoidable defensive error (how hard is it to lead partner’s suit when they bid it?!), but the hand that will haunt me for days will be the very last hand of the evening. In third seat, vul. against not, I picked up:

♠ AKxx
♥ (void)
♦ AKTxx
♣ Axxx

This was by far the best hand I’d seen all night. Not surprisingly it got passed around to me:

P-(P)-1♦-(P)-
2♦*-(P)-?

The 2♦ bid is an inverted minor bid that shows 10+ points and diamonds. Since Yin was a passed hand this means his range is especially limited but, of course, it is more than enough to make game. The question is what to bid next. Any diamond bid is not forcing, so that’s out. 2♠ would be essentially natural and would show my spade holding, but Yin’s already denied having four spades and there’s really only one thing I care about on this hand and that is whether or not he has a club control. I contemplated how best to suss that out and hit upon a clever option. While 3♥ should be a splinter I think, I’m not 100% sure Yin would take it that way and I want to emphasize that I have a monster hand so I decided to bid 4♥ which I know he will take as a splinter bid and clearly I’m forcing to game no matter what he has. If he has anything in clubs he can show it to me without going past 5♦. This all seems very good.

P-(P)-1♦-(P)-
2♦*-(P)-4♥-(P)-
5♦-All Pass

I’m expecting him to be dead on arrival with a minimum for his already very limited hand and nothing to show me in clubs, but this is what I got:

♠ Qxx
♥ AJxx
♦ QJxxx
♣ x

Even a guinea pig could make seven on this hand (yes, I’m looking at you, Mr. Snuffles) and deep down I just knew I should go to six regardless of his dead fish response. But literally just minutes earlier both the Mad Scientist and Yin were poking fun at me for my proclivities when it comes to playing my partner for the perfect cards. After the hand, Yin criticized me for taking up too much room with the splinter bid and said that he had a minimum for his response (though I would argue that as a passed hand, that singleton makes his hand far from a minimum). I’ll grant you that the splinter bid took up a h_ll of a lot of room, but I didn’t need a lot of room. What if instead the bidding had gone:

1♦-2♦*-
3♥-4♦-?

I could bid 4♠ and then hope he comes up with a club cue-bid, but why would he on that sequence and not the one that we had?

I’ve caught flak from partners, especially Yin, for bidding on instinct or table feel or whatever the h_ll you want to call it, and rightfully so (I’ll note that the times my gut instinct has been right, I’ve not heard any complainants — is that really fair?). But I really am trying to do it the “right way” and just blindly guessing isn’t right. For instance, take his hand and give it two doubletons in the black suits and now I have no business being in 6 so even though my instinct was to bid six, I ignored it. Yin had a chance to show me a club control, he didn’t, I can’t assume he’s hiding it from me. Still I feel like I’m playing with one hand tied behind my back by ignoring my instincts on hands like this one.

Not surprisingly +640 was a lousy score because people are bidding and making overtricks in 3NT (which, I might add, is way riskier than bidding the diamond slam). Incredibly no one at our club bid the diamond slam. I just “knew” that I should, but I couldn’t prove it to myself so I thought I was doing the right thing by passing. Virtue is not always it’s own reward, good thing taking off from work is.

1 Veracity of claim evaluated by author via empirical trial.

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
24

Morton’s Fork

Ever since I proclaimed my agnosticism pertaining to the existence of hands that are too strong to open as a pre-empt, but too weak to open otherwise, the bridge gods keep sending these questionable hands my way. Yesterday’s was a real pip. This one was a clear-cut opening, but once again the question was how.

In first seat, non-vulnerable against vulnerable, I picked up:

♠ KJ
♥ Jx
♦ KQxxxx
♣ Qxx

My first inclination was to open it 1♦, but there are several factors to consider, both for and against that bid.

For Against
12 HCP No Aces
Nice ♦ suit No Tens
1½ quick-tricks Jx of hearts < 1 HCP
Meets Rule of 20 KJ of spades < 4 HCP
Technically only 6 Losers Flat shape
Partner won’t expect this much from a 2♦ bid. Partner won’t expect this little from a 1♦ bid.

Really that list can be boiled down to the final two entries: open 1♦ or open 2♦, either way my partner will have an inaccurate picture of my hand. When you’re lucky in bridge, you find yourself choosing between a good bid, a better bid and the best bid. When you’re unlucky, you find yourself choosing between a bad bid, a worse bid and the worst bid. And on a hand such as this, it can be really difficult to tell which is which. Unfortunately, unlike Hobson’s horse, I’ve no option to simply “leave it”. (As my partners keep reminding me, “pass” is a bid too but in this case that would be even more misleading.)

In the end, I opened it 2♦. My LHO doubled and Yin raised me to 4♦ which is where I played it. Imperfect defense allowed me to make five, against perfect defense there is no game on the hand. But with every face card that came out of my hand, Yin looked less and less happy. My point, however, is that he also would have been very unhappy if things had gone differently and he had ended up playing 3NT with that as the dummy.

Yin felt strongly that the hand should have been opened 1♦. The Mad Scientist agreed, though he wasn’t vehemently opposed to opening it 2♦ and warmed up to the idea more as he thought about it (of course, not fast enough to help me defend my actions to Yin who left safe in the knowledge that, once again, he was right and I was wrong). Probably, TMS is correct when he says that the “big boys” would open it 1♦, in fact I’d wager most bridge players would open it 1♦. But I’m stubborn and arrogant, twenty-four hours later and I am more convinced now than I was at the time that I was right to open it 2♦, not because I like the bid, but because it was the least bad of my options.

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.

May
10

Bidding Hassles

In the afternoon there were a lot of interesting hands. I was playing with Yin and our system got quite a work out. One hand defeated it entirely (link: here). I’m still not sure how to bid that hand properly, but I felt better about my 3♥ bid after talking it over with one of the resident experts. He agreed that the real question on the hand is whether or not to force to game, if I do, it’s almost impossible not to get to the correct game but it is still tricky to find the slam. If, however, I’m not ready to commit on my second bid to game then I have some thorny issues and could miss game on a hand that is cold for seven. We had a miscommunication, not surprisingly, but despite it we managed to make it to 5♥ just not six (and while seven is cold, it isn’t a grand slam I’d want to be in). I have to admit I was surprised that I was the only person who went looking for that board after the fact to record the hands (I wanted the exact spots), perhaps other people’s memories are just that much better than mine, speaking of which …

There were an unusual number of tables today and this particular game is held at a location other than the bridge club, so they ran out of bidding boxes. Most people learn bridge at home without the aid of bidding boxes and many bridge players remember a time before the ACBL was requiring their use. But I learned just a few years ago in a bridge club so my experience with playing bridge without a bidding box is extremely limited to almost none at all and I must say I do not like it. Not because I think unauthorized information is being passed by the way in which the bids are spoken, though I can certainly see how that could be the case (just the way in which one pulls a card from the box and places it on the table can say something about how one feels about a bid), and not because I’m afraid of the next table overhearing the sequence, but I don’t like having to remember the bids. (Yes, I really am that lazy.) Apparently, I rely on the visual reminder of the cards stacked in front of each player pretty heavily.

It would figure that one of the hands that we had to bid at that particular table (thank goodness there was only one) would give me a chance to trot out a convention we’ve had on the card for awhile, but that has never come up before. The convention worked the way it was supposed to and I managed to remember the bidding, but I found the whole thing very distracting.

Also I had my requisite board on which I’m vulnerable, in a normal contract and happy as a Corgi on stilts that I am able to hold it to down one, only to find that everyone else is making an overtrick (or two). It seems like I have one of these boards every session and it really takes the wind out of my sails. Maybe I just always get excellent defense (yeah, that’s it, I’m sure).

May
02

A king, a rabbi and a bridge player walk into a bar ….

The only good thing I can say about last night’s game is that it ended early enough for me to catch a late showing of The Pirates! Band of Misfits.

In first seat at favorable vulnerability I picked up:

♠ Txxx
♥ xx
♦ AKxx
♣ Kxx

Even I’m not going to mess with opening this hand. I pass and it gets passed around to my RHO who opens 1♣. Well, this changes things for me. For one thing, opening 1♣ in fourth seat makes me think she really has something and Yin passed in third seat so this is almost certainly their hand. It seems safe to say that I want a diamond lead. You see where this is headed, don’t you? I overcalled 1♦ even though ideally I want more for a 1♦ overcall (like, I don’t know, five of them?), still I felt that the lead-directing aspect trumped my other concerns. I mean, it’s the one-level and we’re not vulnerable, what’s the worst that can happen?

P-(P)-P-(1♣)-
1♦-(1♥)-1N-All Pass

I knew Yin was not going to be happy when he saw my hand. He respected my request not to yell and limited his remarks to, “That bid is sick.” And no, he did not mean “sick” in the street sense, as in “cool”, he meant sick as in totally demented. “It was lead directing,” I muttered. Still Yin’s a reliable miracle worker when it comes to declarer play and he made his contract despite my contribution. Of course, at the other tables they are also playing 1NT, only in the other direction … going down one, so our +90 don’t mean a thing with the other North-South pairs getting +100. Stupid matchpoints.

On the next hand I was still annoyed and went for a slam that looked like a great contract on the opening lead, only to have the whole thing fall apart on me when the king of trump was both stiff and offside and the hearts divided in the expected fashion: 6-5-1-1. I had been playing “safely” for the hearts to be 5-5-1-2, but I had failed to take into account just how cruel the bridge gods can be. Other pairs were in four making five. I was, of course, in six making five. Double dummy the hand is simple, but I failed to follow the “Rabbi’s Rule”1 and suffered accordingly. After the hand my RHO was so giddy at having beaten our contract that she would not shut up about her singleton heart, “I couldn’t believe it when he made that splinter bid and I had a singleton too!” I wanted to strangle her.

The whole night was like that, good contracts were down, bad contracts were making. At one point I played in 1NT on a hand that I was glad I held to down one only to find it making two and three around the room. The opponents, good players who had in fact defended it very well, assured me I had done all I could do, but looking at that traveler I really wanted to just walk out then and there.

Yin and I recently agreed to play that after an opening of one of a major a jump to 3N by responder shows precisely a 4333 hand, 12-15 HCP and three-card trump support. On one hand Yin opened a spade and I had something like:

♠ AJx
♥ KQx
♦ AQx
♣ Txxx

It is in fact one point too good for the bid (what’s a HCP between partners?), but it was a new toy and I wanted to play with it and we were having a lousy game anyway so justifying it based on the bad shape (never you mind that the bid guarantees that shape) and the fact that none of my points were in my “long” suit, I bid 3N. After a long hesitation, Yin corrected to 4♠. It did in fact make six and it really should have been played in NT, but I couldn’t blame him for pulling after the way I’d been playing. After the hand I mused that maybe what we needed was a way to differentiate between the 12 HCP hands and the 15 HCP hands, something like a 4♣ asking bid with a return to the major by responder showing the weaker holding. “You sound like [the Mad Scientist],” Yin said. The scary thing is he was right. I hate it when he’s right.

1 Turns out the “Rabbi’s Rule” has gotten twisted a bit from it’s original form. It is often quoted as: “Play the ace when the king is singleton.” But it turns out it actually refers to a belief that the king of clubs is always a singleton. Link to a NYT article on the subject: here.

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.