Ha Ha!

After a disasterous Wednesday, I had decent games on Thursday and Friday. At this stage in my bridge career that means our percentages were in the mid-forties and we placed (fifties are "excellent" and sixties are cause for major celebration). Anyway, Friday evening I was back with my regular partner, Julie, and we were sitting north-south.

After a few rounds, two Flight A players sat down at our table. On the first board, Julie was the declarer and we went down one. That would have been okay except that they had doubled us. On the second board East was the declarer in a 4 spades contract. I led a heart, won, and followed with another heart. A heart was played from dummy, Julie played the queen, and declarer followed suit. I then led a low heart, a heart followed from dummy, and of course Julie ruffed with a spade. East then played an even higher spade, accompanied with a dramatic "HA HA!"

"Ha Ha?" Julie and I echoed. We were taken aback by this uncharacteristic exclamation.

"You snapped that queen, telling your partner to play another heart, but I was out too!"

"I didn't snap," Julie said. "Ha ha?" I said. West was silent.

No cause for alarm, this is not another blog about rude players. We had been joking earlier and East was just having fun with us. He went on to make his contract and we started the third board. Now the bidding went like this: West opened a minor and Julie doubled. East bid 1 spade; I had nice clubs with 10 HCP and so bid 2 clubs. West bid 2 spades, Julie went to 3 clubs and all passed.

I ended up down one. Julie asked West if I could have made it and he said no.

"Could you have made 2 spades?"

"Yes." West looked grim.

"That means this is a top board." Julie and I looked at each other and turned to East.

"HA HA!" We said in unison. Everyone laughed.

The moral of today's story comes from Julie: What goes around comes around.

When my nephew was little he liked to play board games, and one time we caught him cheating. When he thought no one was looking he kept moving his piece a few spaces forward on the board until he was finally in the lead. My mother called him on it, asking why he was doing that. "Because I want to win" was his logical reply. He didn't see a problem with it.

Apparently some people never outgrow this approach to games. I've read about it in letters to the editor in the Bridge Bulletin and heard about it from friends and now, two days in a row, I've experienced it myself. Do these people consider it part of the game to try and trick an inexperienced player? Do they think that if they don't get caught, it's okay? Do they get the same satisfaction for a win attained in this way?

When I hear about or experience these situations, it doesn't make me think less of the game or less of bridge players in general. It does, however, make me think forever differently about the people involved.

How much of this do you think is going on?

Vulnerability

Yesterday was not a good day for bridge, at least not for me. North-south did not get many cards, and when we did get cards we were vulnerable and east-west was not. This consistently inspired our opponents to push the bidding until they got the contract (which they often made). At one point my partner said with relief, "The last round is coming up." I looked at the clock and saw that in fact we had at least another hour to play. We both felt as though we had been there for days.

The positive side of having a bridge day like this is that I usually learn something. It's not as much fun as bidding and making slam or getting good boards against A players, but it advances my game in a way that a good day does not. At least that's what I tell myself.

Yesterday I learned about sacrifices. I have thought about this a lot but have seldom (consciously) bid knowing that I probably wouldn't make my contract. Here's what happened: I held 8 nice diamonds, my partner kept passing and we were vulnerable. I figured that we would go down at least one and maybe two, but I continued to bid up to 5 diamonds. The opponents bid 5 hearts and I reluctantly passed. They made their contract but we got an above average board. It turns out that if they had doubled my 5 diamonds I was going to go down 2 for 500 points; instead, they made 450. I missed that bullet but learned in a concrete way how far to go when I am bidding aggressively.

The funny thing about bridge is that if things go well or not, I want to play again. I'll be back at the club in just a few hours.

Bridge and Blackjack

I used to play a lot of blackjack. I went to Las Vegas, counted cards, paid close attention to the odds and won a fair amount of money. Now I play bridge, still counting cards but trying to win masterpoints instead of money. The "odds" are what brought these similarities to mind during yesterday's game.

I held six decent diamonds and had less than 10 HCP, not vulnerable. My RHO opened a spade. I looked at my hand and got a familiar feeling in my stomach. Even though it's been years since I've played serious blackjack, I recognized the tightening muscles and slight light-headedness. It was about the need to play the odds even though it was kind of scary.

When I played blackjack and had a significant bet on the table, sometimes the odds dictated that I split my cards or double down. This meant I could lose twice as much (yikes!) or win twice as much (hurray!). I knew that even though the odds said to increase my bet there was no guarantee that things would work out in my favor. I always put the extra chips on the table.

Back to those six diamonds . . . I took a breath and bid 3 diamonds. It seemed high for a weak hand but I thought it was the right thing to do. My LHO bid 3 spades and my partner extended my preempt to 4 diamonds. RHO bid 4 spades, all passed and they went down one, vulnerable. It had worked.

I know that some people do crazy and dangerous things for an adrenaline rush. Bridge and blackjack may not produce the same thrill as jumping off a platform with a bungee cord tied to your body, but it is good enough for me. More than good enough.

Mentoring

Julie and I received a gift this past weekend from an A player: Bob invited us to hang out at his pool and play a little bridge. We are in the middle of a heat wave and the chance to swim in cool water was very appealing, but even more enticing was the possibility of being Bob's bridge partner. I immediately brought up the partnership issue with Julie (the thought that the fourth player, as yet unknown, might be Bob's partner was never a consideration).

"You know how much I want to play with Bob; this is my chance." I tried to strike a note between plaintive and reasonable.

"You can be his partner." Julie conceded immediately, probably because she didn't want to hear me whine. "But I wonder who the fourth will be?"

The fourth turned out to be our friend Lee, who had gone to the Frankfort tournament with us. After a quick dip, we all sat at a table by the pool and got started. Bob is a former teacher and his expertise in this area quickly became apparent as he walked us through some hands he had prepared. He continued asking questions to push our thinking as we played, explaining his reasoning about bidding and play. When he won the bid we switched seats so that I could practice. Once he even said "you played that like a pro," which was encouraging.

Not so encouraging was my defense. It takes all of my brain power to count cards (usually correctly but not always) and think about the play. With Bob's help I could reason through how many clubs the declarer had in her hand or where the king of hearts was, but on my own I would need an extra 5-10 minutes for every move. Plus Julie and I need to start giving count and suit preference--I feel proud of myself when I notice high-low or attitude signals, I don't know how long it will take for me to decipher more complicated messages. Still, it is good to start on that path.

I started this blog by saying that Bob had given us a gift. It truly is a gift when an advanced player takes the time to mentor beginners; no amount of studying and playing can substitute for personal insight and experience. So thanks to Bob and thanks to all A players who take the time to help beginners learn more about the game. After all, this is what will keep bridge alive.

25% to the GRBC

You may have noticed the appearance of advertisements on this blog. Originally, against the advice of adsense (the company that provides the ads), I placed these solely in the sidebar. This way, I thought, they will be out of the way and I can earn a little revenue at the same time. This flawed reasoning may be indicative of why my bridge career is not proceeding at a faster pace; how can ads be effective if no one notices them?

I am attempting to make corrections in both of these arenas. In terms of bridge, I have returned to my books after a brief hiatus and am again immersed in studying the play of the hand (next book: defense). In terms of ads, I have added one at the end of the current entry.

I have also decided to give back 25% of the ad revenue to the Grand Rapids Bridge Club. Even though this won’t be a huge amount since this is not a big money-making venture, it will hopefully add up to something. Wouldn’t it be great to get those electronic scorers! Or to have our own building! Or to build a children’s wing in a hospital! (I like to dream big.)

So if you feel like it, click away. (Most of the ads do require a click in order to "count".) The ads are ever changing and you may even find something that interests you. In the meantime, it’s back to the books for me.

Irrational Exuberance

Perhaps you've heard the term "irrational exuberance" which was coined by Alan Greenspan a few years back. I confess that the first time I encountered this phrase was last week when some of us went out after bridge. You can see where this is heading.

"Irrational exuberance" came to my brother's mind (what can I say) when he described his bidding of one particular hand. We were partners for the first time and my job was to coach him and to provide helpful tips (which is a story in itself). I opened, our opponents bid and Ed jumped in as well. I calculated how many points he had and continued the auction to win the bid. Imagine my surprise when dummy came down almost devoid of points. He had bid because he was irrationally exuberant about his many hearts. We were in spades.

I did the best I could but went down two for minus 100. I calmly told Ed that he shouldn't have bid, and he acknowledged this with a resigned sigh. Later when I checked the scores I noted that we had stolen the bid and had gotten a top board! Sometimes it pays to be overly enthusiastic.

Friday Night at the Bridge Club

Two hands with voids = one excellent board and one horrible board. This prompts me to ask: When should I "bid my hand" and when should I "just go for it"? Oddly enough, although these sound like two very different bidding options, they are sometimes similar in practice and only become distinguishable after the dummy comes down. In rare cases the difference between sensible bidding and getting carried away doesn't become apparent until sometime during the play of the hand. One thing to remember when bidding these types of hands, however, is to take note of vulnerability (which, unfortunately, I did not).

I did receive some advice yesterday evening. I was declarer and just barely made my contract after what I considered some fancy playing on my part. I was rather proud of myself, and thinking back, perhaps this showed and prompted the advice. My opponent was an A player who until this point had never commented on my bidding or my play, or actually on anything.

"Why didn't you run the spades?" asked X.

"Is that what I should have done?"

"Of course," X said, and went on to explain what would have happened.

"Would I have made more?" I had every confidence in X's explanation, but I was so surprised by the attention that my mind went blank and I couldn't follow anything that was said. I just felt the need to say something and so asked the question.

"Yes, you would have made 5!"

"Really?" Again, my question did not indicate doubt, merely my inability to process anything.

"Well, maybe 4."

The print-outs at the end of the evening confirmed that X was correct. I hope that the next time someone unexpectedly becomes helpful I will be able to follow the conversation and learn something.

Lake Michigan Bridge Retreat

This week I traded bridge at the club for bridge at a gorgeous cottage near Pentwater--thank you, Jeanne! We enjoyed the sun, the water, good company, and a little wine (okay, maybe more than a little) while playing and studying bridge. We discussed conventions, did "The Bidding Box" from the Bridge Bulletin, analyzed hands, and talked about our experiences at the club. This was the perfect combination of bridge and summertime! (PS: I can't stay away too long, I'll be back at the club tonight.)