Doubles

Yesterday I started an informal survey, asking "What is your New Year's resolution in terms of bridge?"  I don't yet have enough responses for a full report, but one resolution caught my attention.

"I want to get clearer on doubles," Julie said.  "Take-out doubles, redoubles, all that."

"Not just when to double," Dee clarified, "but also what to do when the opponents double."

Doubling may seem quite basic to more advanced readers of this blog, but Julie and I have recently noted that more experienced players double a lot.  When bidding is below game level, how do you know if this is for take-out or penalty?  When I've asked just this question of my Flight A friends, the inevitable response is something like "just watch the bidding, it will be obvious."  Hmm.  My brother recently asked me this question when we partnered for a game, and my more helpful response was "if I double below the game level, it's for take-out; at the game level, it's for penalty."  He thanked me with a sigh of relief.

There is an even more basic issue in terms of doubles.

In my never ending quest to learn from experienced players, I had asked Sue for a game.  We played yesterday, and while I generally stay calm, I was a bit nervous.  Instead of just relaxing, I was trying very hard to do my best and not make stupid mistakes.  This, of course, was a mistake in itself.  About half way through the game, we sat down at a table and I picked up my cards.  I had nothing.  I passed, my LHO opened 1 club, Sue passed, my RHO bid 2 clubs, I passed again, LHO passed.  I mentally checked out; I had nothing, my partner had nothing.  Sue put down a card, my RHO threw down a pass card and started to gather up her bidding cards, signaling that she thought I was going to pass and the bidding was over.  I threw down my pass card and heard a gasp from my partner.  I looked up; Sue's bid had been a double.  Oh boy.

The opponents played 2 clubs doubled, making 3.  I was horrified, and it must have shown on my face because everyone tried to make me feel better.  "Everyone in this room has done that at one time," "I've made worse mistakes," and "Don't worry about it, not a big deal" were some of comments made by my partner and the opponents.  We ended up with a just below average board, so it could have been worse.  (Of course it could have been a lot better, too.)

So while there are many facets to doubles, the most basic thing is to notice when your partner bids one.

Happy Holidays!

"Are you playing bridge Friday night?"  Julie asked.  Dee stood next to her, and I wondered at their interest in my plans.

"Yes, I'm playing with Walt," I replied.

"You'll be the only ones there, no one else we've talked to will be playing bridge," they laughed.

We weren't the only pair at the club last night, but many of the regulars were absent this day before Christmas Eve.  There were only five and a half tables, so we did that movement where we end up playing almost everyone.  It's kind of fun wandering the room and switching from north/south to east/west.

Several weeks ago I had asked Walt to play and he had kindly agreed.  I'm not exactly nervous partnering with an A player, but not exactly relaxed either.  My number one concern is to not look stupid; a close second is the desire to learn everything I can.  My third goal--well, this actually supersedes everything--is to place somewhere near the top.  All three were accomplished.

Not looking stupid:  It helped that Walt ended up playing more than I did.  That said, while my bidding and play weren't perfect, I did have some good moments.  One hand in particular comes to mind, when I was declarer in a 3NT contract.  When dummy came down I saw that I needed to focus on the clubs.  I thought about and played that suit carefully, but in doing so neglected to unblock my spades.  Sometimes it is difficult to think of everything at the same time.  However, I made the contract and one of the opponents noted that I had done a good job with the clubs.  Thank you, Dennis!

Learning:  Walt took the time to explain about defensive signaling, which is huge.  I also learned that doubling a 4 spade opening is for penalty (oops) and that the take-out bid is 4NT.  I learned that when my partner opens to let him know that I have 10 points (not 6-9) even if I think it's a bad 10 points.   I learned that bridge is a bidder's game.  I've heard that before but now I'm beginning to understand what that means.  It used to seem like A players stuck in bids willy-nilly, but last night I saw a method to that madness.

Placing near the top:  We came in first in B and second in A.  You know that I like to come in first (who doesn't), and I just wrote how important it is to me to place.  However, my absolute number one priority in playing bridge is to have a good time.  And I did.  

Last week I arrived at the bridge club sporting a new hair style.  Of course Julie noticed immediately and complimented me.  We briefly discussed the salon, how long the process took, the price, possible alternatives, and where a mutual friend goes to get her hair done.  At that point it was time to start playing bridge, which we did.  Later that afternoon we were at a table in the middle of the room when Mike walked by.  He glanced over at me.

"I like your hair," he said.

"Thank you," I replied.  I was pleased and more than a little surprised.  "That was really nice," I said to the table.  "It's unusual for a man to notice."

"Yes, but Mike would notice," one of the ladies said.  Her partner nodded approvingly.  Julie was uncharacteristically silent . . . until last night.

"I shouldn't tell you this," Julie began over a glass of wine.  Although this opening may sound ominous, I have heard it before and so was not alarmed.

"Yes?" I asked, my curiousity piqued.

"You know when Mike said he liked your hair?  I told him to say that."

"What! And we were so impressed with him," I laughed.

Now for a word about bridge.  When I think about yesterday's game, what comes to mind is how many times I had to turn control over to Julie.  I opened several times, either with a very good hand or with a very good preemptive hand.  Sometimes I doubled because the opponents opened and I had a very strong hand.  Often, though, Julie then responded with a different suit that I could support.  I felt a twinge every time this happened, but bridge is all about teamwork so I went where we needed to go.  While being the declarer is exciting, I think I like the bidding process--when I hold interesting cards--even better.    

More on Slam Bidding

Slam bidding continues to be interesting.  Sometimes it goes smoothly, sometimes it goes awry, and sometimes -- like in yesterday's game -- we end up in the right place in spite of ourselves.  Here's what happened.  I had 23 high card points and opened 2 clubs.  South passed and Julie responded 2 hearts.

"Alert," I said.  We bid controls and so I started going through the possibilities: 2 diamonds means a king or less, 2 hearts . . .

"What does that mean?"  North interrupted my thought process and I was stymied.

"I have to think for a minute," I said.

"That's okay, never mind."  Both opponents seemed to understand my embarrassment in not knowing the answer and didn't want me to stress about it.

"I have to think anyway," I responded.  Even if the opponents didn't care anymore, I still had to figure it out and bid properly.  North reached for my convention card, which furthered my discomfort in not knowing.  Then it came to me.

"It means that she has . . ." I started triumphantly.  Both opponents interrupted and spoke over me.

"We don't want to know."

"But she was reaching for my card, so I was going to tell her."

"She can look at your card," South said.  "But when we say never mind, you can't say anything."

I apologized, and that's when I realized that they were not being sympathetic about my memory lapse.  They were hoping that I would come to the wrong conclusion and that Julie would be in the dark!  Well, I came to the correct conclusion and realized that we had all of the aces.  The next thing would be to figure out where to play.  I bid 2NT and started mentally going through the possible Puppet Stayman bids and responses.

Julie bid 4NT.

Hmm, I thought.  I don't think that's 1430 because wouldn't we do Gerber over 2NT?  Plus, I already know we have all of the aces and we don't have a suit.  But she bypassed 3NT so she must think slam is a possibility.  What the heck.

I bid 6NT.

"What do you think her 4NT means?"  South asked.  I thought it interesting that he didn't ask what her bid meant, but rather what I thought it meant.  I could see that he didn't have much confidence in our communication.

"I think it means she has a big hand," I replied.  "She's thinking about slam."

"What did her 2 hearts bid mean?"

"That she has an ace."

South's expression showed his confusion in trying to reconcile a big hand with having an ace.  When dummy came down, there was indeed only one control, the ace, but also other cards that fit nicely with my hand.  We did make 6NT, which was a good board for us. Others in the room got there as well, but not everyone did, and most likely not by the same route.

Counting

STaC week ended with yesterday afternoon's game; the results were light-years away from what happened last year.  At the beginning of this week a year ago, Julie and I were enthusiastic, positive, and looking forward to winning some silver points.  At the conclusion of that week we agreed that it was awful and hoped to never see it again.  This year, though, we placed in every game that we played in together and got enough silver for our next ACBL level (although we still need points).  Sometimes it is difficult to see progress, so this was an encouraging yardstick.

In yesterday's game I had the opportunity to work on my defensive skills.  Here's an example:  I was sitting South and defending against a 4 spades contract in the East.  In the course of the play I had taken a trick and was looking at a board with 2 trumps and no clubs.  I played a club; declarer played a low trump from dummy, Julie played a high trump and we won the trick.  The opponents went down one, followed by a discussion of what happened.

"I should have played the king," declarer said.

"I don't think that would have helped," dummy replied.

"No," Julie added.  "That would have just set up my jack."

"Maybe I should have..."

I listened for a minute as the three of them analyzed and conjectured before I finally chimed in.  "You know," I said, "not everyone is going to lead a club."

"Oh!"  They turned to me expectantly.

"I was keeping track."

"She's a counter," Julie said.

"You have to count," the opponents agreed.

That ended the discussion and it was time for the next round.  I did not disabuse them of their assumption that I had counted the clubs.  In fact, I had thought about the number of clubs in my hand and how the bidding had gone, and concluded that there was a good chance that Julie was out.  Since she was behind dummy she would be able to ruff higher or maybe one of her trumps would set up.  Not as impressive as actually counting, but at least I was thinking.

I am trying to count, though.  I start out okay but quickly become distracted and forget to keep counting.  I do better when I am the declarer, but even then I am not systematically keeping track of all of the suits.  I am going to keep at it, though, since I believe it is key to improving my game.

Deja Vu

Something happened at yesterday's game that strongly reminded me of a hand that I played over a year ago.  Just like the hand back then, one of the opponents was the director and I was the declarer.  We were in a game contract--5 diamonds this time instead of 3NT--but otherwise everything was the same.  When dummy came down I made a plan; everything worked and I made 6.  I was feeling good and looked over at my partner, Mimi, who gave me a happy smile.  I was thinking about how we might have bid slam when the director turned to me just as she had over a year ago.

"You should have been in spades," she said.

Sigh.  Of course she was right, both yesterday and a year ago.  I don't remember what happened last time, but this time I was in love with my seven beautiful diamonds.  I rebid them even though I had three of my partner's spades.  I need to keep in mind what Jerry Helms said at the tournament in Louisville:  It's not what you have and it's not what your partner has; it's what you both have together.  Easier said than done sometimes, at least for me.

Boasting?

I have to come back to the topic of slam bidding and indulge in a little self-congratulatory behavior.  I realize that at first glance this may not appear proper, but let me explain.  Not that long ago I was completely confused not only about how to get to slam, but especially about how to stop the train once it had left the station.  If Julie or I was so bold as to initiate Gerber or Blackwood (now we use 1430), signing off was almost impossible.  We inevitably stopped only when we reached 6 hearts or spades or NT, and probably would have gone on to bid grand slams except that was simply too scary.  We often didn't understand what the other was bidding; who am I kidding, we didn't even understand our own bids.  Afterwards, kind opponents would explain what we should have done and it always made sense . . . until the next time we had big hands.  It was all very intimidating and I could feel my heart start to race if it even looked like we were heading in that direction.

On Monday evening we played a hand where I ended up bidding 4 clubs, Gerber, to see if slam was a possibility.  I saw by Julie's response that it wasn't and I was able to make a bid that Julie actually passed.  We were both quite pleased, especially since we made the contract (one trick less than slam).

This afternoon was even more exciting.  Julie opened and I held 17 HCPs.  After the bidding showed that we were missing one key card, I had to decide what to do.  Julie's suit was diamonds, but I had only 2 little ones and otherwise a balanced hand.  I bid 6 NT.  My pulse was normal and I looked forward to trying to make this contract -- which I did.  Not only that, we were the only ones in the game to bid and make slam on that board!        

There seem to be so many opportunities to feel badly about how we bid and play.  Someone else almost always gets to a better contract, makes one extra trick, or defends more successfully.  At some point there is almost always a memory or counting slip, or simply a lapse of judgment.  Add to that the occasional rude comment -- like the one I experienced a couple of weeks ago -- and it would be easy to be negative and discouraged.  Boasting at the table is of course frowned upon, but I think it is important that you celebrate with your bridge partner when you two are the ones who reach the best contract, make that extra trick, and defend most successfully.

Thanksgiving

The turkey is in the oven and all is under control, so I have a few minutes to give thanks for duplicate bridge.  Following are my reflections, in no particular order of importance.  (I have a few minutes, not all morning.)

I am thankful that we will soon be getting electronic scorers and automatic shufflers.  I'll have to see if Julie will let me sit North sometimes so I can score; I like electronics.

Last week when I was in a slow line in Meijer, the man behind me said that he didn't mind waiting because he didn't have anything else to do anyway until the paper came at 4:00.  He sounded lonely and bored as he continued to chat, and I was thankful that I will never be in that state of mind because I can always play bridge.

I am thankful that we have four games a week in Grand Rapids and games in nearby cities on the other days.  There is always a game that fits my schedule.

Sometimes I am thankful when there are only 2 boards a round.  This gives me less time with grumpy people as well as less time with players who tend to give us low boards.  Usually these two groups don't overlap.

I am thankful for all of the interesting, intelligent, and friendly people I've met at the bridge club.

I am thankful for the Flight A players who give me games, when I know they would rather play with partners at their own level.  (Although I have to say that I am a fun partner.)

I am thankful for all of the snacks that people regularly bring to the games.

I am thankful for the people who read my blog and leave comments, both in writing and in person.  I am also thankful for those who click on ads on this blog.

I am thankful for our well organized, fair directors who calm down disputes and put people in their places when necessary.

I am thankful for the benefactor who paid for everyone's game several weeks ago.  (I hope s/he does it again.)

I am thankful that we often go out for drinks after bridge.

Even though I knew Julie before we started playing duplicate bridge, through bridge we have become extraordinary friends.  I am thankful for that.

It is now time to once again baste the turkey, so I will end my list here.  I invite you to comment on what you are thankful for, bridge-related or otherwise.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Good Things

A few weeks ago on a Friday evening, Julie played bridge with another partner.  A player from Kalamazoo, used to seeing the Julie-Margaret partnership, wondered what was going on.

"Where's Margaret tonight?" Beth asked.

"She's doing something with her boyfriend," Julie replied.

"Her boyfriend!"  Beth was astonished.  "I've never heard anything about a boyfriend.  I've heard and read about her cat, but nothing about a boyfriend."

Apparently they then discussed that Randy should get at least a little print time, especially considering all of the Halloween pictures I posted of Amadeus.  I'm not sure that this conclusion is valid, since he's been in the Grand Rapids Press a lot lately (he's a musician) AND he did not dress up for Halloween, but here you go.  I bring this up now because yesterday evening I was again out with him instead of playing bridge.

However, I did play bridge on Wednesday afternoon.  Julie and I had a good game, coming in first in C and first in B in our section (you know how much I like being first!).  Some things come to mind about this game.

First, I thought that one of our top boards was the result of making an extra trick.  I was the declarer on this particular hand and one of our opponents, a top player, made a mistake in defending and threw off the wrong card.  How clever I am, I thought, in playing all of my trumps at the end rather than just giving up my loser.  This way, my "loser" became a winner.  While this was a good thing, when I checked the scores I discovered that this extra trick was not the deciding factor in giving us a top board.  It turns out that we were just in a better contract than everybody else.  Also a good thing.

Second, we learned another nuance of the never-ending rules of bridge.  Julie was the declarer and was on the board; however, she pulled a card out of her hand.  "You're on the board," I said, but I didn't say it quickly enough.  Both of our opponents said, "I accept it."  We didn't really want it accepted, since playing out of her hand cost us an extra trick, but we had no choice.  It turns out that if the declarer has the card in the played position, meaning almost on the table (or on the table, of course), the opponents can accept it and it is then considered played.  If the card is still sort of in front of the declarer, even if the opponents see the card it is not considered played.  Good to know.

Finally, the idea of mental toughness continues to haunt me.  I think that one of the reasons I played better on Wednesday is because I was often the declarer.  My mind didn't have a chance to wander or get lazy because of this, so I stayed sharper.  I have to learn to keep my focus even if I get bad cards.  That would be really good.

Slam

Julie and I played bridge last Friday, which can be a tough game.  We did all right, though, coming in first in C.  There was one snafu (well, one that I want to focus on) that comes to mind:  we missed bidding a slam.  Here's what happened.

I opened 1 spade, even though I only had 10 or 11 HCPs.  My suit was solid and my hand met the "rule of 20" guideline.  I don't remember the exact sequence of bidding anymore, but at one point very early on Julie bid 4N.  Oh oh, I thought.  She thinks I have more than I do.  Nothing for it but to tell her that I had only one key card.  She signed off in 5 spades but I made slam.

"Did you bid slam?" an A player asked us later.

"No," we replied.

"Why not?  You were only missing one key card."

"I was chicken," Julie admitted.  "We were on the right track, we just didn't get into the station."

This scenario stayed on Julie's mind and was almost the first thing she referred to when we met up earlier today for a Sunday afternoon of bridge.

"I'm bidding slam today!" She was determined to not let that bid get away from her again.

"If it's there or not!" I joked.

These turned out to be prophetic words.  Julie bid and made 2 slams.  I think before my next game I'm going to try that strategy and say something like, "I'm going to bid game if it's there, not bid it if it isn't (unless it would be a good sacrifice), and bid and make slam."  The power of positive thinking.

It Worked!

It worked this time!  Once again I was in a bidding war with our opponents and they went to 5 hearts.  My suit was spades and I knew I couldn't make 5, but we weren't vulnerable and I could count on a little something from my partner.  On top of that, my hand would be worthless defensively.  I put last week out of my mind and bid 5, opponents passed without doubling, and the play started.  We went down 3 for minus 150.  It looked like they could have made game, but I did not (mentally) celebrate.  What if none of the other east-west pairs bid game?  Then it would once again be a low board.

As you can tell from the title, this time my sacrifice was successful.  We got a top board.

In case this entry sounds a little too self-congratulatory, don't worry, all of my bidding was not on target.  I had learned how to bid this next type of hand during my first few weeks of learning to play bridge almost three years ago, but I still managed to mess up.  My RHO opened a weak 3 hearts; I was holding a 5 card spade suit and 20 points.  DOUBLE DOUBLE DOUBLE . . . but I didn't.  Instead I bid 3 spades, everyone passed, and I made 6.  I think it was the weak opening that threw me.  As soon as I saw my cards I was formulating a plan, but that went out the window when my opponent bid.  I have to learn to be more flexible.

First Wednesdays

The first Wednesday of every month we play boards that have been made ahead of time, and then after the game we get hand records.  Most people who refer to these, I suspect, use them to learn and improve their games.  Sometimes I do that, too.  Not this week.

When I've had a not-so-great game I like to focus on what I did right.  Wednesday we scored in the low 40s; not all that long ago I would have considered that just fine, but no longer.  So to help bolster my bridge ego, I checked on our top boards rather than the bottom ones.  It was nice to note good defense on one board, getting to the right contract on another, making an extra trick on a third.  I did need to take a detour from self-congratulation, though, to check on at least one low board.

Two days later I can still remember all of those red cards in my hand.  I didn't have much more than opening, but I had seven really nice diamonds and at some point in the auction my partner showed me that she had support.  So when our opponents went to 4 spades, I decided to bid 5 diamonds.  If they go to 5 spades, I reasoned, maybe they'll go down.  I thought that if I got the bid and they doubled me (vulnerable), it would still be okay.  The opponents opted for the latter and even with those beautiful diamonds I went down for 500.  When we looked at the cards, though, it seemed like it was going to be a good board for us because they clearly could have made 4 spades (also vulnerable).

In fact, the hand records showed that they could have made 5 spades.  Apparently a good sacrifice isn't good if none of the opponents in the field bid game.  Rats.

Slam

Yesterday I played bridge with Lee.  The last round was interesting because I opened with only 10 HCPs.  I held five very nice spades along with five okay clubs, and using the Rule of 20 I took a breath and bid 1 spade.  My LHO passed and I watched with increasing unease as Lee pondered what to do.  She bid 2 hearts.  Yikes!  I should have known better than to open, I thought.  Now what?  I had to bid clubs which put us at the 3 level with my partner thinking I had more than I did.  Lee responded with 3 diamonds.  Well, at least my next move was clear.  For better or worse--probably worse, I thought--I said "alert" and bid 3NT.

Imagine my astonishment when Lee next bid 6 spades.  She will not be happy to see my measely 10 points, I thought.  Then in a flash I realized that I would be playing the hand--yikes again!

My LHO led the ace of diamonds and dummy came down.  Lee had nice spade support and 21 HCPs; slam was a cinch.  While the auction may have been unorthodox, it got us where we needed to be.  We came in first in C (yippee, first!) and I will again consider opening a two suited, 10 point hand.

On another note:  I thought I was done with posting pictures of Amadeus, since Halloween is over and he is out of costumes.  However, I had a special request from JP for just one more picture.  Here you go, Jim!

Swiss Team Game #3

One hand last night was particularly aggravating.  Julie opened 1 diamond, and with our opponents passing I bid 2 spades (a strong jump shift).  Julie then bid 3 clubs; I rebid my spades.  Julie went to 3NT, and I bid 4 spades to end the auction.

This is where I have to pause and think about how much to tell you about my hand.  If I report exactly what I was holding (which, by the way, I do remember), you will be amazed that I did not bid differently. I know this because as soon as dummy came down I wanted a do-over.

I think it's best to just say that I held a solid spade suit with lots of points.  I figured that Julie probably didn't have any spades (she didn't), and since I didn't have another suit and didn't want to play in no trump, I didn't know what else to bid.

I made seven spades.

My only consolation is that our opponents at the other table, a B team, were also in 4 spades making seven.  Their auction went differently but they had the same result.  Whew.

And now for the last Halloween picture of the season.  It's the same devil costume, but this time you can see the bow tie more clearly.

Swiss Team Game #2

Yesterday Julie and I played another Swiss Team game.  It no longer feels like a marathon, though, because unlike the 7 rounds we played in Grand Haven this was a regular afternoon with 4 rounds.  I was curious about where the name for this team game came from, and apparently it is derived from a similar movement in chess which originated in Zurich.  Interesting.

Anyway, we won two rounds and lost two, ending up a little below average.  We did okay in 3 of the 4 rounds, one being simply horrible.  However, I did enjoy the conversation at the start of that low-scoring round.

"So you're a B team, right?"  My right hand opponent was North, and he was keeping score.  He was asking this question because of the handicapping system our club was using for this team event.  As a C team, his team would have to "give" us points.

"No, we're a C team."  I was surprised by the question, since the answer seems obvious.

"You're C players?"  I was gratified by the surprise in his voice.  "Who are you playing with?"  He looked around to see our team members.  When he saw who they were, he again said that we must be a B team.

"I guess they must take the average of all of our points,"  I said.  "Julie and I don't have that many.  I'm sure we're listed as a C team."

Julie and I looked at each other and shrugged.

"We'll be B players one day," I continued.  Everyone smiled and agreed.

"You're a B player now in your heart," my RHO said.

"Yes, I am," I agreed.  "But I still want those [handicap] points!"

Tomorrow:  Swiss Team Game #3


Amadeus as a little Halloween devil...

Skips and Bumps

Yesterday was a break from this week of Swiss team games (Sunday, Wednesday, Friday).  I asked Becky to play, and she was kind enough to give up Monday night at home with her husband to come out to the club.  Becky is an excellent player and I learned a lot from her.  On one issue, though, she called the director over to consult.

"Margaret wants to know why there's a bump if there's already a skip," Becky said.  I knew there was going to be a skip, which was not a big deal because we were sitting north-south.  Whatever east-west pair sat at our table was fine with me.  However, someone had just come by and said we were being bumped for the next round.  That I did not care for, since it meant we had to sit out.

"The skip happens every time there's an even number of tables," the Director said.  "Otherwise, people would play the same boards again.  Right?"  She looked at me expectantly, waiting to see if I understood.

"Oh, that's right.  I get it,” I said.  Really I didn't, but I had a feeling that further explanation wouldn't help.  "But then why is there a bump?"

"The bump is because we have an extra pair."

That was easier to understand.  The Director left, and Becky suggested that since we were being bumped, we kibitz at the next table.  We pulled up a couple of chairs; as I watched I also kept an eye on our table.  I kept waiting to see the "bumpers," but no one appeared.  The east-west pair sat alone at our table and chatted.  After the first board was done, I spoke to Becky.

"Who is supposed to bump us?  Because they still aren't there."

Everyone looked, and there was some conjecture about what was going on.  Finally we realized that the "bumpers" were at another table, and that the east-west pair was waiting for us!  After a few choice words, we quickly got back to our table and into action.

Shortly thereafter the Director returned to further instruct me on skips and bumps.

"You have to wait until you are told that you are being bumped before you move," she said.

"We were told!" Becky and I said in unison.  

"Well, who told you?"  

Obviously not the bumpers.  Oh well.  I learn something every time I play.

Back to Halloween pictures; this time Amadeus is masquerading as a tiger.

The Swiss Team Marathon Begins...

Yesterday was the beginning of three Swiss team events this week.  Julie and I played in the Grand Haven tournament with Jeanne and Melissa; we placed and got some silver, and had a lot of fun.  Playing there reminded me of our introduction to this team event.

Julie and I heard about Swiss teams the first year we started playing bridge.  We didn't understand the concept but decided to give it a try.  The problem was that we didn't have another pair to team with and were reluctant to ask anyone.  We were so new to bridge and so unsure about Swiss teams, we figured no one would want to play with us.  I know this sounds sad, but we didn't feel badly and it did not deter us.  We talked to our Director and she arranged for us to team with a pair who was also new to duplicate bridge and Swiss teams.

We met our partners the day of the event and found out that they had even less experience than we did.  One of them had never even played duplicate bridge, and neither had ever played Swiss teams.  We needed help figuring out where to go, how to score, how to turn in the score...you name it, we didn't know what to do.  The oddest thing, though, was that our teammates never really understood that we were a team.  After each round we would get together to compare scores.  They were either happy that they had beaten us or sad that our scores were better than theirs.  We kept trying to tell them that we were in this together, but each time it seemed that we were making head-way we would have to move for the next round.  They never did know why the four of us met after each round and they were never again seen at the club.

It's been a long road, but yesterday I finally understood the scoring.  I had certainly learned to go through the correct motions before now, but this time I talked to someone and figured out the big picture.  I learned that the goal was to stay above average, and we did.  The average was 70 and our final score was 71.

On another note, Halloween is a week away.  I've been shopping for Amadeus, and here you can see me helping him try on one his costumes.  More pictures to come!

Kalamazoo

Yesterday Julie and I drove to Kalamazoo to play in their Friday afternoon game.  I have mixed feelings about the results--you guessed it, we were first in Flight C going into the last round but ended in second place.  Just like in Lansing, we couldn't find a fit and so when we got the contract we usually went down.  This time, though, I kept quiet about how we probably weren't doing as badly as it felt because I thought we really were doing that badly.  Our 51% score was a nice surprise, and as an added bonus it was a special club game so we ended up with extra points.

Regular readers of this blog may recall how I dislike sitting with my back to the room.  An incident that happened yesterday confirms that it is much better to be seated where you can see what's going on.  We were in the middle of a round when I heard a player directly behind me coughing.  Naturally I did not turn around and stare, since I would have had to shift my entire body; rather, I continued with the hand.  Everyone else, though, looked over.  There were gasps and exclamations, and then suddenly a woman ran past me.  It turns out that she had choked on a pretzel and had successfully done the Heimlich Maneuver on herself!

"If that had been me," Julie said, "I would have died.  I don't know how to do that."

"I would have saved you," I said.  I tried to sound competent and reassuring, but my statement was an empty promise.  I don't know how to do the Heimlich Maneuver either.

"I was going to get some pretzels," Julie went on, "but I changed my mind."  She apparently did not have much confidence in me, and rightly so.

"I think that's a wise decision."

To get back to why it would have been better to be facing the other direction:  there was some controversy over how the player in question saved herself.  Some witnesses said she bent over the back of a chair, while others said that she folded her arms around herself and applied pressure that way.  I could have resolved this question if only I had not been facing the wall.

Darn it!

When I looked up the NLM scores online to see how everyone else did, imagine my dismay when I noticed that Julie and I had placed second, not first, in the evening game. There must have been scoring mistakes and subsequent adjustments, but no matter the reason I felt let down. Oddly enough, though, the new scores showed us getting more silver than previously. That was a comfort.

What can I say? My quest for placing first -- in any flight in any type of game -- continues.

NLM Tournament

Yesterday morning Julie and I headed over to Lansing with Melissa and Jeanne to play in the Non-Life Masters Tournament. The car was filled with talk of many things, including bidding sequences that needed review. I spent some time on Puppet Stayman and Smolen, since our knowledge of these bids is more theoretical than experiential. It turns out we should have spent more time on basic no-trump openings, but that's Melissa's story so I won't relate it here.

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.

Memory

When I first started playing bridge and listened to other players talk about their hands after a game, I was amazed at their recall. They remembered not only their own cards, but knew what everyone else had held as well. On top of that, they discussed the opening lead and what would have happened if someone had done this instead of that.

Julie and I would look at each other in wonderment. I couldn't remember my own cards or bidding, much less what others at the table had held or did. Sometimes I couldn't even recall these things immediately after the hand had been played, while I was still sitting at the table.

"It'll come," we were told.

"When?" we wondered.

"It takes time."

Well, it appears that the time has come. This week I was amazed that Julie and I could reconstruct the bidding and then analyze what happened for almost every hand that we had played that afternoon. Granted, I couldn't tell you what cards everyone held or what the opening lead was for every hand, but it was still a break-through. Maybe motivation had something to do with it.

Julie and I were east-west and our friend Dee had sat in the same direction. This was especially interesting to us because her partner was a Flight A player and we were eager to compare our moves with his. We didn't end up with a very good game and hoped to discover where we had gone wrong. Following is what we learned about one hand.

Me: What did you do on board 1?

Dee: 4 hearts in the west, down 1. That was a good board for us.

Me: We were 2NT in the east, down 2. Bad for us.

Julie: That's the hand where I bid 1 heart.

Me: Right. I opened 1 diamond because I had 18 points but no suit.

Julie: I didn't really have enough points to bid, but I couldn't leave you in diamonds because I only had 2 of them. I had 6 hearts, though, so I bid a heart.

Me: I only had 2 hearts, so I jumped to 2NT to show my points.

Julie: And I left you there. Should I have just passed?

Me: I don't think playing it in 1 diamond would have been any better. Dee, how did you get to 4 hearts?

Dee: Well, Jim opened 1 diamond and then the opponents bid. I wanted to show him that I had hearts, so I bid 2 hearts and then he went to 4 hearts.

Me: He had 18 points, so even if it had been a 5-2 heart fit he would have been confident because you had bid at the 2 level.

Dee: Right. I should have bid 3 hearts to show I was weak.

Julie: If our opponents had bid, it would have turned out differently for us.

I'm not really sure what we learned about this bidding sequence, other than the whims of our opponents--to bid or not to bid--can really affect what happens. Not exactly big news. Still, it was fun to compare and analyze. It was especially good to be able to remember enough of what had happened to be able to compare and analyze.

A Conversation

Yesterday Julie and I played in the NAP finals in Lansing. Following is an approximation of the conversation we had afterwards as we sipped on drinks in a sports bar in Grand Rapids.

Julie: It's odd how we played so much better in the afternoon but we got about the same score in the evening, when we made more mistakes.

Me: I think everyone is tired in the evening; we should always play in the evenings at tournaments. We just have to make sure that we're rested.

Julie: Agreed. We did get some gifts.

Me: What about that guy that threw his cards when I went to 3NT and made it?

Julie: What was up with that? Then he acted all friendly.

Me: He was strange. Okay, what should I write about in my blog about this experience?

Julie: What was the theme of the day? What stood out?

Me: I've been thinking about how much I enjoy the process of learning something new. Once I get to a certain point, when I've learned what I wanted to, I quit and go on to something else. It's the journey that most interests me.

Julie: That's very Aquarian. I'm the same way.

Me: But with bridge, I'll never get to that point where I've learned everything I need to know. This may be the activity that I never quit. Even though I want to get better scores and win, I am very aware that where we are right now is a good place to be. One of the A players said that playing at tournaments at the higher levels isn't fun because if you make a mistake, everyone is on it. People expect us to make mistakes.

Julie: But are we getting better?

Me: Yes.

Julie: But how can you tell? There's not a way to measure it. Are we like greyhounds, going in circles chasing a rabbit?

Me: I have a friend who adopted two greyhounds. They couldn't climb stairs and freaked out when they had to walk on different surfaces, like grass.

Julie: Those poor dogs are really abused.

Me: But we're not like greyhounds, we're making progress.

Julie: We would make more progress if we hired someone to teach us and play with us. But that wouldn't be as much fun.

Me: Exactly. That's what I was getting at earlier . . . we're both competitive, but the journey is enjoyable too. But maybe we should see if John and Joanne will play with us again on a Friday.

At about this point others joined us and the conversation turned to other things. Our tournament scores were in the mid-forties, nothing to get excited about but not embarrasing either. Since my time for bridge is limited these days, we're probably going to play in Kalamazoo on Saturday. Stay tuned!

Mistakes

Julie and I continued our mini-trend with another good game today. We didn't get many good cards, though, and Julie was declarer only once. She should have played at least twice, but one time when she opened 2 clubs I accidently stole the bid and had to play it out of my weak hand. Rather than go on about that, though, I would rather describe a couple of other mistakes I made. Those were much more interesting -- mainly because they turned out much better for us.

Here's the first one: Julie opened 1 Club and I studied my hand. I had 12 or 13 HCPs but no suit, so I planned to bid 2NT. Before I could do so, however, my RHO overcalled 1 Heart. Now what? I didn't have a suit and I couldn't bid 2NT over interference because while I'm not sure what that would mean, I am sure it wouldn't mean that I had 12 points. I had hearts stopped with Kxx so I bid 1NT instead. As soon as I made the bid, I sent a mental message out to everyone at the table: bid again, bid again, bid again, somebody bid again. Please.

My LHO passed. My partner passed. My RHO paused . . . and bid 2 Hearts. I calmly bid 3NT, which was a big surprise for everyone, and they all passed. A heart was led and dummy came down. I was happy to see the diamonds, which would set up beautifully, but was concerned about the lack of good hearts. MY RHO ducked and I took the first trick with my king. I knew I couldn't afford to lose the lead, so I played with that in mind. And I never did lose the lead--I took all of the tricks.

I learned later that I should have cue bid the hearts.

The other interesting mistake I made was against a top pair in the club. As I waited for the bid to come around to me, I looked at my hand and thought "I have nothing to say." I had 6 sad points and had already mentally passed when I realized that I had to bid something. Julie had opened 1 Club and my RHO had passed. While I wanted to pass as well, I realized that with 6 points I had to say something. I bid 1NT and everyone passed.

I don't know if it was at the moment I bid 1NT or if it was when the last person had passed that I realized that I held 4 little hearts in my hand. Yikes! I hoped there wouldn't be any hearts in dummy, but of course there were. We should have been in hearts, and I knew that this fact would not escape anyone's notice. I did the best I could but went down 1 and got ready.

"Why didn't you bid hearts?" My RHO asked, perplexed.

"I don't want to talk about it," I replied. Of course I talked about it anyway, and everyone was very kind. They even figured out that I was better off in 1NT than in hearts, and indeed I was. We got an above average board.

It's a beautiful thing when a mistake works out for the best, but it's better yet when I learn something from it. Hopefully both will be in play on Sunday.

A Positive Attitude

Since school started and I am back teaching at the community college, I have less time for bridge and less time for writing about bridge. I am still trying to figure out a way to get around this, but so far no luck. There has to be a way to make a living with bridge that does not involve being a Grand Master, because even with my positive attitude--and I am positive beyond what's reasonable--the way things are going, I will be at least 124 years old before that happens. (And I may need a few years beyond that.)

Anyway, I played yesterday afternoon with Julie and we had a good game. I made two unusual bids--one worked for us and one did not. First the one that worked: My RHO opened 2 clubs. I had less than 10 points but I did have 7 spades. Hmm . . . what the heck, I thought, even though nothing will come of it maybe I can mess up their bidding. So I bid 2 spades, making this the first time I overcalled a 2 club opening. (Again, my positive attitude shows--I had jack high.) My LHO doubled (stolen bid) and everyone passed. Everyone passed! I was not thrilled with this development but I was not horrified, either. At least I knew where all the points were, and since they were not with me and my partner this would most likely be a good sacrifice. I went down 300 and we got a top board.

Now for the bid that did NOT work: My RHO opened 1 NT. I had 16 HCP in my hand and was itching to bid. Unfortunately this is the one situation that falls by the wayside when you play DONT, which is what we play. I should have passed but I just couldn't do it. I took a breath and bid 2 NT.

"Alert," Julie promptly said. The opponents looked at her.

That's interesting, I thought. I wonder what she'll say; DONT doesn't cover this bid. She didn't have to say anything right then because no one asked. Everyone passed but then the opener came back to it.

"What does her 2NT bid mean?"

"We play DONT." Julie paused, and along with our opponents I waited to hear the explanation that would follow. "It means . . . well, it might mean . . . actually, I'm not sure what it means."

"Doesn't it mean she has both of the minors?" One of the opponents tried to be helpful.

"No, I don't think so." Good job, Julie, I mentally congratulated. Just then the director came by and saw what was going on.

"Yes, that means she has both of the minors," he said, agreeing with our opponents.

"No," Julie said, "It would only mean the minors if the opener had bid a major." That's right, I thought. Don't let them confuse you.

The discussion went on for another minute or so while I sat there quietly, looking down so as to not give anything away. Once play started everyone figured out that I had an opening no trump hand, and it did not go well for me. I went down and got a low--although not bottom--board. Next time I will just pass.

To return to the title of this entry and my positive attitude, next week Julie and I are playing in the NAP finals in Lansing. I cannot imagine why I think we might win, but maybe the stars will be aligned and our opponents will be tired/hungover and we won't make any mistakes. You never know.

Top Ten List

This afternoon I played bridge with my brother. He just learned how to play this year, and since I started two years ago I'm the "senior" person in this partnership, even though he's older. Here are the top ten reasons that I play bridge with Ed:

10. He asks me.

9. He's good natured and easy-going.

8. People are tickled when they realize that we're brother and sister, playing as a team.

7. It reminds me of when I first started, and it gives me a boost to realize how much I've learned.

6. He doesn't tell me what I did wrong.

5. I don't have to be diplomatic when I tell him what he did wrong.

4. He says "you're right" when I comment on the bidding or play.

3. Intead of me asking a more experienced player to be my partner so I can learn from the experience, I get to be the "expert" for a change.

2. I can blame him if we get a bad board.

1. No matter how our game ends up, we're rated the #1 brother-sister bridge partnership in Michigan! (Okay, as far as we know, we're the ONLY brother-sister partnership in Michigan.)

Electronic Scorers

A while ago Julianne (aka Julie) and I played bridge at another club, and upon returning to Grand Rapids we met her husband for dinner at Thousand Oaks Golf Club.

"It was a lot more expensive," I said. Phil, who had spent that afternoon playing golf, looked interested.

"Really? How much was it?"

"Five dollars!"

"You played all afternoon for five dollars?" He chuckled, probably thinking about the expense of playing golf. "What does it cost in Grand Rapids?"

"Three-fifty."

"You can't beat that," he said.

This conversation came to mind because our club has just raised the playing fee to $4.00. The extra fifty cents will go toward electronic scorers and a duplicating machine. I am really looking forward to those scorers, which should help keep my emotions stablized. Let me explain.

It seemed like Julianne and I were doing okay at yesterday's game. Not outstanding, but decent. Twice I was able to use a bidding strategy that Darryl had recommended a couple of weeks ago, and both times this put us in the right contract. Another time I ended up playing five diamonds, doubled, and I made it. We were using "travelers" to keep score, which meant that after each board we could see what others had done up to that point. All three of these boards were looking good. Some of the other hands were also good and some not so good, which confirmed our feeling that were were doing okay. For us, that meant a percentage somewhere in the mid-forties.

Imagine our dismay at the end of the evening when we were at 38%. Discouraged and baffled, we reluctantly agreed to go out with the group for drinks. As we all sat around the table at the restaurant, chatting and talking about the hands of the evening, I decided to bring up the jewel of my evening. Five diamonds, doubled, had to be a good board, I thought. If I hear what others did on that hand, maybe I'll feel better.

The print-out showed that we had minus 550 points instead of plus.

"Joanne!" Upon this horrifying discovery I immediately called the director, who was sitting at the other end of the table and into a different conversation. "There's been a mistake!"

"We can fix it. What's wrong?" Joanne spoke calmly, apparently in an attempt to soothe my panic. I explained what had happened. "I've already adjusted that. In fact, there were two mistakes. Your score went up."

Our percentage ended up in the mid-forties, which is okay for us on a Friday evening (those are tougher games). So I look forward to those electronic scorers, which should make things easier and keep my pulse stabilized by being more accurate.

Although, now that I think of it, the numbers do have to be put in manually so there's still the possibility of human error. Hmm . . .

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.

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.

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!

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?"

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 :)

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.

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?

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.