Saturday, August 27, 2011

The Dance

I played bridge three times this week with three different partners. As I think about each individual game and the experience as a whole, it strikes me that playing bridge is similar in several ways to ballroom dancing.

First, the partnership: You have to be comfortable with your partner. No one dances their best when they are intimidated, nervous, anxious, or even feeling superior. You have to adjust and smooth over the edges so you fit together and have fun.

Next, the skill level: When I dance with an accomplished dancer, I can follow his moves pretty well. He may have to slow down a fast spin so I don't fall over and eliminate some tricky steps so I don't trip, but with the right hand pressure on my back and a few whispered directions, things go relatively smoothly. When I dance, or play bridge, with someone at my own skill level we can glide through the basic moves but are still trying out and working our way through the trickier ones. It doesn't go as smoothly.

Also, the learning curve: Adding new, fancy steps interupts the flow of the dance. The new moves can be difficult to incorporate, especially when new music is played. Computer dealt hands--even though they are supposedly random--can throw a monkey wrench into any routine.

Of course, the stumbles: Sometimes a misstep can be covered up and go unnoticed except by an expert; sometimes the results are disasterous. In either case, the solution is analysis and practice. Practice. Practice. Practice.

Finally, the music: Finding and feeling the rhythm is at the heart of dancing and, yes, of playing bridge. When the partnership is inside the music, feeling and responding to each other's moves, everything goes right. When the partnership struggles to find that beat, they are in trouble.

Not a perfect metaphor, but there you have it.


Sunday, August 21, 2011

Kalamazoo Tournament: Saturday

I had been looking forward to the two stratiflighted games on Saturday because I had the misconception that we would only be playing other pairs in our flight. It turns out that players with a bazillion points have their own game, but the rest of us play each other and results are stratified. With this on my mind, Julie and I greeted the pair who joined us at our table as we waited for the cards and the first round. After exchanging names and a few pleasantries, I got to the point.

"I didn't really understand what stratiflighted means," I said. South repeated what I had already discovered, and North stated that he had wanted to play in the A game but South had wanted to play in the B-C-D game.

"I just thought I would be more comfortable playing against others who are at my level, rather than against much better players. This will be less tense and more fun."

"How many points do you have?" I asked South. If they had seriously considered playing in the other game, I doubted that we were at their level.

"750."

"So you're a life master?" I continued.

"Yes." South nodded modestly and North naturally asked how many points we had.

"About 50 each," I replied.

"Fifteen hundred?" he asked.

"No, fifty," I repeated.

"Five hundred?" North had a puzzled look on his face.

"No, five-zero. Fifty." North looked at me for a moment then he turned and studied Julie.

"Your face looks much smarter than that," he told her. (Apparently my face doesn't.)

"My face may look smarter," Julie replied, "but my brain doesn't."

So that was the introduction to our first round in the first stratiflighted game. We continued to have a fun afternoon and an even more enjoyable evening. On the few occasions when people were irate with their partners, it became a joke and we all laughed. In terms of our bidding and play, we lost our focus in the afternoon but did much better in the evening. All in all, it was an excellent tournament.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Kalamazoo Tournament: Thursday

Thursday went much better. Julie and I placed and received points; although not gold, we were satisfied. We're playing again today, Saturday, in the stratiflighted games. I am told that this is the place to be, since we'll be playing only against others in our division. We'll see.

When I think about Thursday, three things come to mind. The first is the need for mental toughness. When a top pair sat at our table, Julie and I were friendly but hyper-focused. We understood that there was little room for error and we actually ended up getting our best boards against this pair. When they left our table we collapsed and the following round was our worst. Just like in any competition, achieving and maintaining mental toughness is crucial.

The second insight is that appearances can be deceiving. Not a new insight, I know, but it was driven home by a wacky-looking man who seemed mentally out to lunch. "This will be an easy round" came to mind after just a few seconds at the table. Wrong. Very wrong. He may be a strange one but he can sure play bridge. I will never again underestimate someone based on the way they look and act.

Finally, I had an experience that has happened only once before. I had a moment of clarity when it seemed as though I completely understood everything that was happening at the table. I knew where the cards were, what my partner's signals meant (we were playing defense), what I had to do. All of the pieces came together in a coherent, slow-motion kind of way--the bidding, the lead, the count, everything. Do Flight A players experience this all the time? Because I liked it!


Wednesday, August 17, 2011

Sacked in Kalamazoo


Kalamazoo tournaments are fun because they always have goodies for the participants. While my favorite, the mechanical pencil, was conspicuously absent, we did all receive tote bags with the legend "Sacked in Kalamazoo" emblazened on it. At the time we joked about the negative connotation, but unfortunately it turned out to be prophetic.

As Julie and I were planning for the tournament, several experienced players encouraged us to play in the side games. I asked so many questions about the different types of games, debating the advantages/disadvantages of each for weeks, that Julie completely withdrew from the decision-making process. "Whatever you want to do," she told me, "is fine with me." The side games it was.

Julie, Jeanne and Melissa picked me up bright and early at 7:30 a.m. Julie is not a morning person but she valiantly tried to keep up with the enthusiastic conversation about bidding conventions and, I admit it, some gossip as we made our way to the tournament. Once there, we discovered that the non-life masters game was merged with the side game--all of my research was for nothing. We settled in to play.

The morning for all four of us was not great and the afternoon even less so. However, this did not dampen our spirits and the conversation on the ride home was even livelier than on the way to the tournament (probably because Julie had been drinking coffee all day and was thoroughly awake). We agreed that our opponents "were not better players, they just played better" and that we would play better on Thursday.

Can you guess who said what on the drive back to Grand Rapids?

"I think I over-analyzed."

"The bathroom facilities were wonderful!"

"My neck is strained."

"Who wants to stop for happy hour?"



Thursday, August 11, 2011

What I Learned Yesterday

Every time that I play bridge I like to focus on what I learned during that session. Sometimes what I learn is that I have a lot to learn, but still, that's something. Yesterday I again had the opportunity to play with Darryl: I experienced new bids, eliminated an old one, and got to ask lots of questions.

The last time I played with Darryl he said that if I didn't know what a bid of his meant I should just bid something so he wouldn't be stuck there. That has become our mantra when I play with Julie, and it is a very useful strategy indeed. Anyway, yesterday Darryl opened a minor and the opponent bid a heart. I only had about 6 points but I did have a 4 card spade suit, so I bid a negative double. Darryl bid 3 hearts! The only thing I knew for sure was that I had to bid again--not only did I not know what this bid meant, I also saw that it was a cue bid and so couldn't really mean hearts. I thought perhaps Darryl wanted to put the play in my hand, although why he would want to do that was beyond me. I did have some diamonds, but after much deliberation (were you getting nervous, Darryl?) I bid 3 spades. Darryl went to 4 spades and I was the declarer.

As most of you probably know, and which I learned when dummy came down, Darryl's bid meant that he had game forcing points and wanted to know if I had a heart stopper so we could play it in no trump. He was denying 4 spades. But it all turned out okay; I made the contract.

If you are wondering which bid I eliminated after yesterday's game, it is the quantitative raise of 4 no trump in response to an opening 1 no trump bid. It was very exciting (for me, at any rate) when Darryl opened 1 no trump and I held 18 high card points. Wow! I didn't have a four card (or 5 card) major, so I jumped to 4 no trump. Darryl bid 6 no trump and made 7. I had thought about taking it to 7 but couldn't do it, not knowing if we had all of the aces. Afterwards I found out that players who bid 4 clubs to find out about aces did make it to 7 no trump. I talked about it with Darryl and next time I will ask about aces.

In about an hour I will be back at the club with Julie as my partner. I don't know if I'll have time to write about the results (I'm heading out of town for a long weekend at the Greektown Casino), but wish us luck :)


Friday, August 5, 2011

Enlightenment

It was 45 minutes before game time as I walked through the underground hallway labyrinth that leads to the bridge club. I had my lunch in a plastic baggie and my scores from yesterday's game in my purse. As I approached the room I encountered Jim.

"What are you doing here so early?" he asked.

"I'm here for enlightenment." And indeed I was, since every Thursday Jim teaches a bridge lesson before the start of the game. I had not attended previous sessions because of lack of time, but it had finally worked out that I could be there. Today he would be going over the pre-dealt hands that we had played the day before, and I was ready.

Since I was early even for the lesson, there were only a couple of other people at the table when I sat down. I took out my lunch before I cut through the chit-chat and asked Jim about board #19. We had gotten a low score on this one and my partner had taken the blame, but I knew I had also gone astray and wanted to find out what I should have done differently. The lively discussion that followed revealed what others had done and why, and, with Jim's help, I did learn what I should have bid when my partner jump-shifted into diamonds.

More people joined our group and were confused when they found out we were discussing board #19. "Am I that late?" and "How did you get that far already?" were murmured comments that floated across the tables. Jim wrapped up the discussion and clarified what we were doing.

"Margaret was early and asked about #19. If you're here early, we talk about whatever you want. Now let's look at board #1."

I liked that and made a mental note to come early when I could, then turned my attention back to the lesson. On some hands Jim focused on the bidding and on others the play, but either way he encouraged discussion and led us along the right path. Overall the lesson was interesting and enlightening.

I've written before about the importance of Flight A players sharing their expertise with others, and this is worth highlighting again. Thanks to Jim and thanks to all others who take the time to mentor us.

Wednesday, August 3, 2011

Yet another difference...

Today I discovered yet another difference between Flight A and Flight C players. A few entries back I wrote about how two days in a row A players tried to take advantage of my inexperience playing duplicate bridge. A players thought this referred to outright cheating while C players thought that it referred to less sinister (but still undesirable) trickery.

Many years ago there was a scandal that involved cheating. I don't know the details other than it was really bad...people were doing things like holding cards with their fingers in a position that showed, for example, how many hearts they held. Flight A players who lived through that were understandably concerned that cheating had once again reared its ugly head.

On the other hand, new players have not witnessed this type of cheating at the club. When they read my entry, they commiserated and shared stories of when, for example, they were playing defense and dummy told declarer what to play ("You didn't mean to ruff that, did you partner?" "No I didn't, play a diamond instead."). Our lack of experience can keep us from calling the director but not from complaining . . . and then finding out later that we were "cheated."

The first time the director was called to the table because of me I was mortified. My face turned red and I kept apologizing, saying that I hadn't misplayed on purpose. I wouldn't have dreamed of calling the director myself, even if I could have recognized an opponent's misstep! How things have changed. Today I jokingly told Joanne (who was playing, not directing) that I needed her advice on how to bid my very confusing hand. She offered to help, but since she was our opponent I thought better of it. I'm not scared of the director anymore (at least not most of the time).

So here's my question: Do you consider it "cheating" when an experienced player takes advantage of a beginner's lack of knowledge of the rules of duplicate bridge? Or do you think this is just part of the game?