We arrived at the site early so we could stop at Panera before play began. As we walked over to the Bridge Center with coffee cups in hand, I had a moment to talk privately to Julie.
"I'm tired of coming in second," I said. "I really want to come in first today."
"Okay," Julie replied. She is a very cooperative partner.
"I'm not complaining about second." I wanted to clarify my position. "It's just that it is time for us to come in first. It doesn't have to be first in A or B, first in C is fine, but I just want to be first."
Julie again agreed, and with that settled we entered the club and got ready for the first game. We sat north-south and as play proceeded we started feeling cautiously optimistic about how things were going. We were getting some good cards, which is fun, and were playing against friendly opponents, which of course is also fun. Part way through the game two men who looked vaguely familiar sat down at our table. I recognized their names when they introduced themselves.
"I remember you," I said. "You were at the NAP game a few weeks ago."
"Yes," one of the men replied. "I remember you, too." He turned to Julie. "You were wearing a really nice outfit."
Julie looked at me with a question in her eyes.
"The black biker jacket," I said. It's not really a biker jacket, but kind of looks like one the way it is styled with silver snaps. I remembered what Julie had on because I had joked that she looked ready to take someone out.
"Oh, thanks," Julie said. We continued to chat with these opponents, and we also played some cards.
We ended the game at almost 56% and came in second in Flight C. During the dinner break I again mentioned to Julie that while I was happy with our game, I really wanted to come in first. We recommitted ourselves to this goal and returned to the Bridge Center to try again.
Unlike the first game, the second game found me almost pointless. Hand after hand, board after board, I held very few honors. Julie did not fare much better, and when she did have enough points to bid I usually couldn't support her. On top of that, on the few occasions that we did get the bid, it did not go well. Julie started watching the clock.
"How many more rounds?" she asked. "This is terrible."
"I don't know, but it might not be as bad as you think."
"It is as bad, you'll see. From now on, if we place in the first game let's just go home. We never do well in both games in a tournament."
"Okay, but I still think it might not be that bad. It always feels like this if we have to play mostly defense." I looked down at the scores I had written on my card and saw the minus column filled up. There were just a few lonely numbers on the plus side.
Finally we started getting some cards and had a little rally. The last round came and it seemed to be going okay. Then came the last game of the last round. Julie opened 1 spade and my RHO overcalled 2 hearts. I had 10 points with 2 little spades but had hearts firmly stopped.
I bid 2NT.
"Alert," Julie said.
Oh oh, I thought. What is she alerting? What does she think my bid means? I waited hopefully for the opponents to ask what her alert meant, but they did not give me a chance to express my ignorance. My LHO passed and Julie bid 3 diamonds.
Okay, I thought. She must think my bid was an unusual 2NT, saying that I have both minors. That's okay, I have 6 diamonds so we can play it there.
Still, something didn't feel right. I had a bad feeling that no matter what I did, it would be wrong. I passed.
Julie was stunned. It turns out that she thought I was bidding Jacoby 2NT, so she had bid her singleton diamond. She played the hand and made 3 diamonds but was not happy . . . until later, when we saw this gave us an above average board.
In fact, we were both happy later when we found out that we were first in Flight C! Hurray! Maybe we will continue to stay for both games after all.
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