More From the Newbie

This was my second effort at documenting our bridge life:

Club Manager, Biig Al and Director Bob decided that partner/husband and I needed more than a little assistance in breaking out of our thirtieth percentile slump. They decided that we needed to split up, each of us playing with one of them at one of the night games at the Turtle Creek Bridge Club where all the San Antonio bridge nuts hang out. We may be new at this but we are still nuts.

The night games at the club usually fill three or four tables or, on a good night, five or six. The atmosphere in the evening is looser than during the day when the room is filled but the bridge is no less serious. Possessing way more sense than we do, few other C players venture into the late waters. Therefore, we are ranked B at night. We rarely do well in the evening games but keep returning anyway since husband/partner has a part time job which interferes with our bridge time during the day. Besides, we like the night atmosphere and the evening players who, in their vampire like way, rarely see the club in the light of day.

I learned a new bridge rule while playing with Bob. Never rescue a bridge genius unless he requests it. LHO opened 2 diamonds, Bob passed, RHO responded 3 diamonds and I had 17 points. I couldn’t figure out how to open – no 5 card major – don’t want to go 4 clubs with three measleys and not enough points to say 2NT and so I passed, forgetting completely about the fact that most people would know to double to show points. Bob then bid 3 spades. Doubled by RHO. Sensing disaster and seeing that I have all suits stopped, I bid 3 NT. Down 3 doubled. Bob was patient and kindly but this was the first board of our new partnership. He was great in disguising his dread of the long night ahead with gloating from Biig Al at the end.

We plodded along and, when a similar board came along later, I remembered to double to signal points and we did well. I know Bob was inwardly sighing and thinking to himself, “Well, at least she is trainable”.

About 9:45 the owner of the Chinese restaurant next door to the club, pounded on the club front door. Most play halted. Two of her workers were behind the strip center in pursuit of a tagger. The strip center was newly painted and a prime draw for gang symbols and spray paint. Out the back door thundered Biig Al (we didn’t know he could move that fast), my partner, Director Bob, Director Everette, and my husband. About ten minutes or so went by and things started getting gritchy inside the club. A few of us wandered into the darkness behind the strip center to see what happened. The men had the tagger cornered where he was crouched behind a dumpster drinking beer with a backpack full of black spray paint. The police took 40 minutes to show up, handcuff the guy and throw him into the back of the squad car during which the other players in various states of disgruntlement had already packed up their gear and gone home.

Biig Al is giving everyone a free play next Tuesday night and I tried not to show absurd relief in not getting swocked by husband/partner due to my stupid bidding on the rescue board. Deus ex machina; the hand of the bridge God in the games of man, for the first time to my benefit.