The Riot at the Hyatt

Here is what happened at our first Nationals:


The Nationals in Houston this year were a driveable distance away. Not having to get on a plane to go anywhere is always a good thing so husband/partner and I decided to check out the big leagues. By the time we made this decision, there were no rooms available at the host hotel, the Hilton. We used some points to stay at a nearby Hyatt.

As we checked in, I noticed a HUGE banner over the entrance saying “Welcome NCAA Players”. Being an astute novice bridge player, not much escapes my notice (except a laydown slam possibly), and I immediately became aware of a lobby full of young athletes in all shapes and sizes. The desk clerk explained that they were college volley ball, track and field, wrestling and swimming teams from all over the country in town for a meet. I must have looked concerned so she assured us that the coaches had signed agreements that the students would be in their rooms and quiet by 11 P.M.

We chatted with students in the elevators, wished them luck in the morning, asked how they did in the evening before and after we toddled over to the Hilton to PLAY IN THE NATIONALS! We say this to all our social or non bridge playing friends and they are sutitably impressed. They don’t know that we played in some 299er games there and only placed once. We don’t share that info.

Thursday and Friday night were quiet with all the students, as promised, in their rooms by the time we returned after the evening pairs session. Saturday, the meet finished up and we returned to the Hyatt at about 12:30 A.M. with a Swiss team scheduled for 9 A.M. the next day. The lobby was packed with hundreds of kids, the bar had kids on top of kids (so much for a quiet late nightcap) and there were kids on every floor on the balcony/hallways overlooking the lobby.

At 1 A.M., the noise hadn’t abated. I called the desk and asked if the hotel staff could quiet things down a bit. They apologized and said that security would take care of it and they did.

At 2:30 A.M. weird chanting awakened me. I looked out the door and there were hundreds of athletes in the lobby and more on every balcony/hallway overlooking the lobby and they were chanting something back and forth with the sound reverberating and magnifying through the open construction of the hotel. Students were running around outside our door, beer cans were flying, girls were shreiking and boys were yelling. I started dialing the front desk and got only a busy signal. I pushed every button on the phone and no one answered any line.

At 3 A.M. things were getting worse out there and husband/partner was throwing clothes on saying ‘I’ll go out there and take care of THIS!’ I threw myself in front of the door and reminded him that there were 18 year old, very buff, fit wrestlers out there. He wouldn’t have a chance and I didn’t want to have to look for a new partner after his funeral.

Worried about the hotel staff and the safety of the players, fearing that one of them would go over a balcony and end up splattered on the lobby floor 14 stories below, I called 911.

“911 what’s your emergency.”

“I am a guest at the Hyatt hotel and there is a riot going on.”

“A riot?”

“Spring breakers are out of control destroying the place and no one at the front desk or security will answer. I’m worried the kids have hog tied the staff and taken over.”

“What is the address of the hotel?”

“Louisiana Street.”

“How do you spell that?”

“Like the state.”

“Ma’am you have to spell it.”

More screaming outside the door with someone pounding on our connecting door to the next room shouting “Anna’s naked in there!”

“L O U I S I A N A” I not so patiently spelled.

Then, smelling smoke I stupidly said, “and – I smell smoke”.

Already sounding annoyed with me, the 911 operator said, “I’m connecting you to fire” and clicked off while I was yelling “no no no I need the police!!!”

The fire lady calmly said that she would dispatch police and fire which she did without asking me to spell anything. What a good person.

Within five minutes, large specimens of Houston’s finest showed up with big clubs and guns shouting “Get in your room or we will take you to jail”. Within ten minutes, it was blessedly quiet.

We played our Swiss the next morning on three hours sleep and came in second. We now think we play better sleep deprived. Our A player friends say we couldn’t be much worse.

Day Care

Have you noticed the similarities between your bridge club and a day care center?  Let me name a few:




1.  Snacks must be provided.  No one can get through a whole round of bridge without chips, dip, donuts,  popcorn, leftover Halloween candy, leftover birthday cake and whatever other leftovers have been lying around the house which people say, "Oh, I'll just bring it to the bridge club and it will get eaten".  True statement that.


2.  As director, part of the job is calling for quiet between rounds.  "Use your indoor voices" or "shhh"  or "Quiet down people".    With a large number of players with hearing aides which barely function, it isn't easy to keep scores or the play of the hand from being overheard by the next table.


3.  Some players decide it's nap time.  Directors find themselves using cattle prods to wake people up to bid, complete the round,  or to move to the next table. 


4.  Everyone is supposed to play nice with everyone else.


5.  Bridge has the equivalent of time outs for zero tolerance violations.  Violators are fined match points or sent home without snacks.


6.  Players must be reminded to clean up after themselves.  Apparently, some of them never learned this in kindergarten.


7.  Entertainment is a must.  Hula hoop contests at the Luau, lottery wins, free games WITH FOOD, put on by the unit.   To a bridge player, a free game with food provided is the best of all possible worlds.


8.  Like holding hands in line, you must have a partner.




Maybe it is true that as we age, we regress.  Playing bridge, for me, brings back memories of elementary school.

Pro or Schmo?

Here  a guide for newbies who find themselves at a regional or national somewhere and want to know if the opponent is a pro bridge player with a client.


1.  The pair play no known system but one usually devised by the pro so that he can play every hand.  (I am using a generic "he" here since I have never come across a female bridge pro.  I am sure there are some; I just haven't met any yet.)


2.  The pro has a jacket over jeans or polyester slacks (depends on age).


3.  If his partner does something wrong, the pro explains patiently what partner should have done instead.  This is usually incomprehensible to the opponents.


4.  The tricks the pro takes, instead of being lined up neatly in front of him, are carelessly tossed into an untidy pile as if to give you a message that there will be no question about the outcome since he can tell you every trick played from his infallible memory. 


5.  The other message the untidy trick pile sends is that he is absolutely unconcerned about the outcome of the hand.


6.  If you watch the pro's forehead carefully, you can almost see the series of numbers running through his brain like the moving neon lights on a Times Square sign.


7. Unlike your neatly printed convention card in its holder, decorated with regional stickers, pros keep a written score on the back of a hastily scribbled card which was filled out 2 minutes before game time.  They always use a golf pencil (if you are a pro, there is no need for an eraser since the outcome is foreordained) and said convention card is a crumpled up mess never to be used again.  (Thanks to friend/partner, Rebecca, for noticing this one.)


8.  Pro and partner come to the table discussing the last hands in no known earthly language and leave your table discussing in the same argot, no doubt communicating about how they could have sliced and diced you into yet smaller pieces.


Perhaps, some day, I'll go to a national disguised as a pro, doing all of the above.  The problem is, after my first three no trump declarer play, I would be degradingly unmasked.

Tricky Business

Husband/partner and I played in a bracketed Swiss with pickup partners at the July Regional here in San Antonio.  One nice lady with over 800 points was trying to help her friend get some gold toward her life master status.  We did quite well in two events and met them again at the Richardson Regional later on in the summer.  As we got to know each other better, the 800 pointer told the following story:

 

When she was just starting out, she had a male partner and was playing against two other males for three boards in a pairs game.  The opposing gentlemen and her partner gently reminded her when she turned her cards the wrong way after taking or losing a trick.  After the third or fourth time this happened, she said, "I guess I'm just not very good at turning tricks".  She turned red while telling me this story.  I can't imagine how red she was when the gentlemen at the table broke up laughing.

Bridge Director

Amazingly, I passed the exam to become a certified bridge director.  Very much like becoming a life master, becoming a bridge director is more than a piece of paper saying I are one.  Now I have to learn how to direct.  I think it will be a work in progress for a while.

Lady in Waiting

Nope; the title doesn't refer to the infamous two diamonds waiting bid over two clubs.  I'm talking about waiting to hear about the results of a test.  After studying for about two months and sleeping with four books about directing bridge games, with husband/partner banished to the guest room (joking), I took the test to become a director last Saturday.  The ancient game of bridge uses the ancient technique of paper and pencil, mail in the test, and get the results by mail in several weeks.  Sigh.  I'm more of an instant gratification girl; take it online and get an immediate score but, sadly, ACBL is not that advanced.

Studying for the exam was an experience.  I thought learning the ins and outs of the Jacoby 2NT convention was difficult.  Piece of cake compared with memorizing the five things that happen with an initial lead out of turn.  Being somewhat dyslexic (as in I can't tell left from right or east from west), learning what the penalty is for bids out of turn,  depending on where the designated bidder sits, was an almost insurmountable challenge.  I'm still not sure I have it correctly programmed in my head even after several director/friends have patiently explained the differences to me. 

I was going to take the test secretly in case I failed; then no one would know.  There are no secrets in the bridge community.  Everyone knows and everyone says, "It's open book - how hard can it be?" Well, the problem is, one must understand the book, apply principles and figure stuff out.  The law book itself is a master work of legalese.  Among the committee members of whiz bang bridge players who codified the laws, sat one of the smartest, if not the smartest, kid in my small high school class of 100 people.  What are the odds?  The kid who immediately understood the concept of n space in physics ends up writing bridge laws.  I should have known it wouldn't be easy.

I took the test so that I could back up our regular director in our small neighborhood sanctioned games which happen a few times a month.  I didn't plan to direct in the big club games but who knows?  Maybe I'll get brave enough to do one or two if, by some miracle, I actually passed the thing.

Still waiting.

Camping Out

My favorite sectional is in Rockport, Texas on the gulf coast.  It has lovely scenery, art galleries, great restaurants and we play bridge in a beach pavilion with big windows which are great for bird and dolphin watching while I am going down in yet another makeable no trump contract.  I feel just as stupid but in better surroundings than usual.

 

However, while there, another bridgely pet peeve reared its clubbed head.  While Rockport is full of RVs and is a great place for camping, some players seem to think that great camping places extend to their seat.  The Swiss round had been called.  While everyone else was finding assigned seats and shuffling boards, I was standing behind my assigned seat while the camper in it prepared to move (pick six or more of the following) drinks, scorecard, bridgemate, a huge purse, cell phone, backpack, tote bag,  card holder, sweater, seat cushion, scarf, medications, jacket, blanket or sleeping bag.  Okay, maybe a sleeping bag exaggerates the problem but not by much.

 

Swiss are the worst bridge camp out sites since pairs settle in for 12 boards a round.  I get it that people like to be comfortable but really; enough already!  I followed a woman in a pairs' game the other day and, each time she left the table, I had to hand her a sweater, drink or score card.  EVERY ROUND!  Practicing zero tolerance and restraint, I just continued to smile and hand her stuff.  She must be one of the few people outside of Downton Abbey who still retain servants.

 

The worst, for me, is following messy campers who leave Kleenex strewn about and food particles all over the table and chair.  This is good for Purell stock since, after picking up Kleenex and napkins, I immediately head for the antiseptic gel. The most sickening (literally) ick factor is the guy who licks his finger before picking up each card or taking one out of the bidding box.  I try to sit in his opposite direction for health reasons. 

 

Let's clean it up out there, folks.  In return, I promise not to whine about bad cards and wretched games.

 

 

IN A FIX

From tonight's fortune cookies at the local Chinese place:

mine:                         Life consists not in holding good cards but in playing those you hold well.
husband/partner's:                           It's kind of fun to do the impossible.

Put those two together and whadya get?  All together now:  BRIDGE!!!  The game where it seems to be fun to do the impossible and play your cards well; at least with any consistency.

I played those I held fairly well today and so did my partner (he played his expertly being the expert that he is - no it wasn't husband/partner).  We had an okay game and had fun but didn't do the impossible which was overcome the fixes we received on six or so boards.

I think all of us have been in many fixes while playing bridge, in my case, mostly of my own making. Locking myself off the board away from three good notrump tricks and going down is my most frequent self made fix.  It gives a top board to the opposition who happen to be at my table when everyone else in the room makes the no trump contract while my partner and I get a nice bottom.

However, sitting down against an A pair who bid and make 6NT while no one else in the room even thinks about it, makes me whine about fixes. Everyone's favorite fix is playing against a novice pair who unknowingly stumble into a game which no one using standard bidding methods finds.

A few definitions of the word fix:

1.     To spay or castrate.
        (More painful than bridge fixes, I imagine.)

2.     To get even with . 
        ( I am tempted but try to adhere to zero tolerance.)
 

3.     To influence the outcome or actions of by improper or unlawful means.
         (Improper; usually - Unlawful...usually not).

Fixes are what in any other sport would be called bad luck, I suppose.  I really shouldn't complain too much about getting fixed.  Husband/partner and I were playing in a rather uneven field one day when we sat down with teacher Wayne and his wife, both  excellent bridge players.  Wayne bid and made a cold 6 NT and I was complaining that we were sitting with the only pair in the room that would get near the bid.  On the next board, husband/partner and I got to a cold 6 clubs. All of us knew no one else would bid it.  Payback is hell.  They should both have been average boards but were not.  Fix one and Fix two.  All of us give as well as receive.

Observing the wisdom of the fortune cookie writers, I will continue to try to have fun doing the impossible overcoming fixes at the table by playing  well the cards I have been dealt.  I wonder if there is any wisdom in fortune cookies about how to deal with futility?

 

Perfectly Perfect

At the Rockport sectional last weekend, held in Port Aransas instead of Rockport, a very nice lady told me this story.

Her partner was in the balancing seat and paused for a while before passing.  The opponent started in; "Do you agree that was a prolonged pause? Do you?  She took a longer than usual time to pass."  The lady agreed that was so but it made no difference since no one else could bid anyway after her pass.

On the next hand, her partner who has limited club playing experience, forgot to alert new minor forcing.  After the bidding was over, the same person asked "Was that new minor forcing? Was it? Do you admit your partner failed to alert it? Do you?"  Again, the lady politely agreed.

The third hand, partner failed to announce transfer.  To no one's surprise, the same player said, "Was that a transfer?  Was it?  Do you admit that your partner failed to announce it? Do you?"

The nice lady then responded, "Yes, I will admit to everything you have said if you will admit there is a perfect asshole at this table."

As the story made its way around the room, the nice lady was high fived and called "my hero" by many, including me since I had played against the same obnoxious person for three straight days.

It may violate zero tolerance, but I cheered her response.

How to Fire a Partner

Husband/partner and I, along with friend/partners Jay and Paula, took a road trip to the Rockport Sectional last weekend.  It was held in Port Aransas due to the fact that the genius's in Rockport had double booked the facility used regularly, twice a year, for the sectional.  Husband/partner programmed the GPS and named the new destination Port A bridge.  As we arrived at the site, the GPS announced "Arriving at porta bridge on right".  We played somewhat better than porta potty bridge which immediately became our name for the tournament.

One of the opponents was discussing how many partnership problems seemed to be occuring in the room.  She was thinking about writing a book on how to fire one's partner.  Here are some hints.

10.     Change your phone number and email address and don't tell anyone.

9.      Tell partner that he/she is so much better than you are that they should find a better partner who is more at their level.

8.      Say that you are quitting bridge.  When you show up again, say that you changed your mind.

7.       Use the difference in your "styles" to discuss incompatibility.  The fact that you can't stand their personal habits at the table or other personal idiosyncracies need not be brought up since these are covered under "style" differences.

6.       Totally book yourself with other partners.

5.       Take on a mentee or three who will take up all of your available time.

4.        Say that you are "cutting back" on bridge time and, sadly, games with you are the ones to go.

3.        Tell partner that you have decided to play only with A players to improve your game.  Then beg any and every A player for a play date.  Good luck with that one.

2.         There is always the truth - be up front with partner and have the guts to be honest.   This is almost a last resort.

1.          Move.  This is last resort.

Between Times

Top Ten things bridge players do between rounds (with apologies to Letterman).


10.  Disappear into the bathroom for ten minutes (this occurs only if the player is late finishing last board and is dealer on the first board of his next table).

9.  Part A:  Castigate partner for not remembering that the 2 and 3 of clubs in dummy were good or otherwise discuss the previous boards but only if the round has been called for over five minutes and the next east west player is looming over the chair unnoticed by the oblivious occupant .
     Part B:  Go over the hand just played, complete with spreading the cards on the table. This is only done by chronically late pairs who are chronically late because they do this after every hand.

8.  Part A: Congratulate partner for playing a hand well when the contract was made on a mistake by the opposition.  
      Part B:  Tell the opposing player that if had only played his Ace, the singleton king of trump would have dropped or deliver any other newsflashes designed to make another player feel like an idiot.

7.   Check cell phone for messages, texts,  a new game in Words with Friends, or knock off some nasty pigs with angry birds.

6.   Catch up on family members, travels, pets and other life events which make us a community.  It's amazing how much one learns about other players in the minutes between rounds. 

5.  Discuss newest health issues and medications or ask the doctor or nurse at the table for an opinion.  Husband/partner and I are happy to oblige but only if we finish the round early. 

4.  Set up future  bridge dates.  Phone vs. paper calendars; the jury is still out.

3.   Discuss Politics. When I am north, I ban political discussions at my table. Should a player persist, I leave the table and ask them to call me when they are finished with the discussion/opinionating which, usually, is opposite my leanings.

2.  Whine about what a bad game you are having (my personal fave).

and always Number One:

Graze the food table.

Biig Al, In Remembrance

Biig Al passed away today.  He died as he lived which was mostly by himself.  I like to think that he considered me a friend, but, I really don't know.  I do know that, as a new player, he was very protective of me and did not allow intimidation tactics by my much more skilled and knowledgeable opponents.  I know that, in this age of zero tolerance, we can't even imagine older players being horrible to newbies but, I can assure you, five years ago, it was still happening.  My partner today had never played in the "big" club game and everyone in the room was kind and patient.  That was really nice.  Biig Al would not have allowed anything else were he directing.

 

That isn't to say that he didn't give me a truckload of grief when I bid a four card suit for the second time or on the two level.  He was my unofficial mentor those first two years.  Officially, his partner, Robert was my real mentor but Al played as my partner often.  I once asked him how it was for him, a major league bridge dude, to play with someone as low level as I was at the time. He answered, "Well, if you really want to know, it's boring".  That's probably because I didn't play Al and Robert's esoteric Italian Blue Club System.  The joke around the club was that no one ever knew what their bids meant and neither did they.  Not true, of course, since they often won.

 

He used to come over for dinner once in a while and critique whatever I had cooked.  He knew his way around a stove and, whatever I cooked got better if he helped - at least the critique improved.  Gradually, a couple of years ago, he stopped playing as much bridge and he didn't return my requests to set up games.  He said that he just couldn't think as well as he used to and, I think, was embarrassed when he made mistakes in our game.  He had volatile, unstable diabetes and, recently, kidney failure.  One of those things would mess up my thinking.  I can't even imagine what both would do.

 

Recently, he had come back to the club a few times to play and, just last week, had donated a bookcase and his bridge books to the club.  I asked him why and he said he was moving when his lease was up in November.  I assume that he wanted a ground floor apartment.  Those stairs he had to climb could not have been easy for him.

 

I am glad that he didn't end up on machines in a critical care unit somewhere.  He would have been pulling his lines out and hollering at everyone to get him out of there.  I have spent many years in those places and wouldn't want anyone I care about to end their days there.  He died in his apartment, probably with the two stray cats he adopted, hopefully, in peace.  I shall miss him and always think of him when I misplay yet another no trump hand.  That should be often.

 

How is Moving Like Bridge?

We have "moved house" as they say in England. I not only moved "house", I moved husband/partner and two cats. Surprisingly, the cats adapted better than husband/partner. This should not have been such a shock. After all, when I suggest that we look at Lebensol, his usual response is, "What's wrong stolen bid doubles? Everybody that plays Lebensol gets into bidding misunderstandings." You can imagine the response to "Let's sell the house and move." Are you kidding? However, like our wonderful partnership, he compromised and we moved. Actually, our old house sold overnight, and we bought our new downsized garden home the next day. For a guy who likes a nice, well planned 3 NT hand which rolls in an orderly, well thought out fashion, this was chaos. At warp speed, like my usual play of the hand, I was on the phone to vendors of all sorts organizing the moving out and in process. I like to think I play my hand in a similar organized manner but, my better opponents and partners point out that the warp speed factor often results in disorganization instead. Begrudgingly, I have to admit they are correct. The problem is, if I go slower, I lose count of something. I'm not going into what I misplaced in the move and still haven't found. I'm not sure speed was the total problem though. So, I haven't played much bridge for about 7 weeks. However, we did go to the Austin Fourth of July Regional for a few games. My favorite line of the week was in a Swiss game. After the first round, I went to our next assigned table where the previous occupants continued to reside. I politely pointed out that the assignments for the next round were on the machines. The guy looked at me and said, "You mean we have to MOVE??" He wasn't kidding.   I guess it was his first Swiss.

Obsession

People often ask me how often I play and, when this question comes up, I am a little embarrassed to admit that I have a game four or five times a week. I don't tell them that, when a day comes up with no partner scheduled, I feel a mild sort of anxiety. One of my friend/partners admitted that she is thinking about cutting back on her playing a bit. The conversation went something like this:

"I'm thinking of cutting back on bridge."

I answered, "I've been giving that some thought myself."

She said, "Maybe three times a week. No wait, maybe four. Except for tournaments of course. I want you and I to get to a twice monthly game. Then I have games set up for....."

Addiction? Obsession? It's hard to say. Certainly, the lure of bridge with its intermittent reward system works the same way that gambling does. We keep returning to the game thinking that next time we will do really well. Luckily, with bridge, I don't lose money like I do in the penny slots or the blackjack machines. If that were the case, I'd be totally broke after four years of mostly losing. However, I keep going back. So does my friend and so does husband/partner who is in a persistent slump. I think it is interesting that all three of us are thinking about spending less time at the bridge club at roughly the same point in our bridge careers, although my friend has been at it longer than I.

We talked about all the projects around the house we never seem to get to. We called each other yesterday when neither of us played and found that we had the same sort of day; cleaned out closets, puttered about in the yard; and thoroughly enjoyed the nice almost spring like day. We agreed that we should allow ourselves those kind of days more often than we seem to. Cut back on bridge time to do that? Yet to be determined.

Crabbiness

Here is the question of the day - does crabbiness violate zero tolerance?  The queen of crabbiness, Lucy, in the Charlie Brown comic strip, makes people smile.  So, when an opponent gives me an unasked for lesson as in, "You should have thought about cross roughing that hand" when I was down one, do you think it would make him smile if I replied, "When I decide to take lessons, I'll be sure not to call you"? 

When the opponent gets up to move to the next table and says, "We couldn't have made our five hearts.  Their six clubs was a bad sacrifice" wouldn't you think it might make them happier when I say, "If you could count your tricks, you would know you just got a bottom board"?  No smiles in either case but I felt better.

One of my opponents yesterday came to our table toward the end of the match, whining about the scarcity of good hands east/west.  She was right.  There were three slams north/south yesterday and only partial games east/west.  She admitted to being crabby.  In her case, even crabby, she is nice.  In my case, I turn into a sarcastic snarl machine.

It has always been a bridge mystery to me why opponents feel free to make comments about my game or give me lessons about what I should or should not have done.  In what other venue does that happen?  Do you think Tim Duncan, during a time out, goes to the opponents' bench to give them advice about their defense? 

 I imagine that bridge players think they are "helping".  I love the great players who say, "Would you like to know what you did wrong on that hand?"  I gratefully accept their mini lesson.  It is never the great players who, unasked, start to expound on what you should or should not have done.  It is always mediocre or poor players who do this and they are often wrong. 

Worse yet are those who say, "If she had led a heart we would have been down two" or "They could have made 5 on that."    Do I want to hear that?  No.  Do I know it already? Yes.  Does it sound like gloating which I hate?  Yes.  I often say, "There is a no gloating zone around this table."  The answer is usually, "I wasn't gloating, just stating a fact".  My answer is, "Go state it somewhere else because, if I can hear it, it qualifies as gloating". 

Have I violated zero tolerance?  Have they?  Maybe Lucy can tell me when the psychiatrist is in; five cents please.

The Bridge Clinic

Husband/partner and I have discussed hanging out a shingle in the corner of one of the clubs.  The men ask to see partner/husband after the game to talk about a variety of male related problems (think prostate) and the women often ask to speak to me to explain, in everyday terms, what the doctor has told them which they didn't understand.

One day, an elderly woman stopped play in the middle of the hand complaining of chest pressure.  Partner/husband attended to her and recommended that we call EMS.   She said, "It feels just like my last heart attack" and continued to finish the game, refusing any thought of EMS.  He recommended that she go to the nearest emergency room after the game.  She said, "I'm going home."  He said, "You may die on the way home."  Her answer?  "So what?"  She finally did go to an E.R. near her home where they plopped another stent into her chest and she is back playing, of course.

Another player asked me to explain why her doctor said that a cardiac ablation is more dangerous than severing the electrical connections in the heart and inserting a pacemaker.  That was an easy one, since I had that choice myself last year.

My former teacher,  Wayne, had serious heart problems and a very long recovery.  He is now back playing and winning, of course. 

Here is my point; sadly,  the bridge population is aging and with that, there seem to be more and more age related illnesses among us.  My Tuesday partner is in rehab for the foreseeable future and I miss her greatly.  I'm leaving my Tuesday's open pending her return.  I told her that everyone at the club misses her and wishes her well.  Her last words to me, as I left her hospital room, were, "Tell them I'll be back!"

I really admire the men and women who, through unbelievable adversity, come back to the game. If that is what keeps them going, then bridge is more valuable than I imagined.  I know that bridge is supposed to be good for the aging process; keeping the brain active and all of that hoo ha.  However, most of my exercise these days is playing east/west and walking table to table.   I really need to get back to working out to keep the bad stuff away as long as possible.  Oh well.  Off to Houston for the regional later today.  I hear they have a workout room at the hotel.  I wonder if I will use it?

Happy New Year 2012

Several readers have been asking if I have given up the blog.  Nope.  I just haven't written anything in about a month.  Blog resolution for this year:  one blog a month at least; more if anything funny happens.  Friends/partners Jay and Paula went to Reno again with us over Christmas week.  Club manager Laurie and her husband joined us.  The six of us met early at the airport and chatted before boarding the Southwest Greyhound bus in the sky.... I mean airplane.  We deplaned in Denver for a 2 hour or so layover and Laurie called to ask where we were.  Paula told her to come meet us in concourse B in an eatery for lunch.  Laurie said, "How do you have time for lunch?  Our plane boards in 20 minutes?"  It was then that we began to wonder why we hadn't seen Laurie and her husband on board or deplaning.  They were in Las Vegas.  Who says bridge players are brilliant?

I am about 20 points away from 500 and the dreaded B designation.  Along those lines, one of my fave opponents, Barbara, asked why I was still writing a newbie blog.  I gave her the Biig Al answer that I don't know much of anything about bridge so the title should stay the same.  Speaking of Biig Al, I was sitting in the club prior to the game today getting agreement on a card with a new partner, Terry.  Al wandered over and wanted to know where we were sitting.  I said, "I don't know Al.  When we get done talking we will take whatever spot is open."  Al wandered off.  Five minutes later he was back stating that he had saved us 8 North/South.  Of course, he and his partner were at 8 East/West and I am absolutely sure that he figured he would start against us with three good boards.  The first one probably was when I didn't bid a slam I should have known was there.  However, they went down one on the second board and my partner bid a 6 club slam on the third board and made it.  We aren't sure he should have but it made me happy and Biig Al not so happy.  He growled as he left, "You two should have a great game today since we started you off with three good boards".  We did.  Thanks Al.

Jeri, the mentor/mentee program maven, guilted me into taking a mentee.  I still don't think I am a very good teacher and don't really  know enough about bridge to help myself much less anyone else but she was in desperate need and I am delighted that there are enough new players coming into the game that she needs so many mentors.  I felt obligated to help out.  My mentee and I had our first game at a pro/am game last night.  We managed to get .22 part of a masterpoint so, that bodes well for the partnership.  I like mentee Mary Lou and I'm hoping that we both will have fun together this year and help each other out;  she getting table time and me learning to teach someone something (not one of my strengths).  So, today Mary Lou played with her regular partner, Laura, and came in first North South.  I told her she didn't need me as a mentor - she beat me.  She said, "If we tell people I came in first after one game with you, you will have newbies lined up down the street to play with you".  Uh oh.  Maybe no one will read this far.

It's the little joys like that which keep me coming back plus the absolute love of the game.  I wish all of my readers many masterpoints in 2012 before the Mayans do us in next December.  Most point getter by the end of the world wins.

Tom Sez

After pestering Director Tom for some time, he finally asked husband/partner and I to attend one of his series of classes.  People from his former classes drop "Tom says" at the table regularly and I wanted to hear what it is that Tom actually says.  I find, so far, that he is often misquoted. 

The thought that any bridge player can figure out where all the high cards are after the bidding and first lead comes down is mind boggling.  He has proven in class that it is possible.  Possible for him, anyway.  I can see it all so clearly in class.  I could get the same exact hand at the table though, and not figure out where the queen of clubs is.  You may remember that it is almost always the queen of clubs that is the problem card.  Okay, sometimes it's the king or queen of trump but, in my experience, I'd like to club the club queen for hiding out so often.

It's a work in progress but Tom is a great motivator for improving one's game.  I'm waiting for the results of his deductive reasoning system to show improvements in my game.  I wish I were a more patient person.

Bridge Kids

Zach is a bridge whiz at eight years of age.  I call him the Mozart of bridge. He and 92 year old Bill Scarpero, (bridge harem Bill), played knockouts together at the last sectional.  As Bill wandered by me later in the day, he mumbled, "that kid is the strongest player in the room".  Having played against Zach and his Mom, Christy, several times, I agreed with him. 

Zach has a seven year old sister.  She is a slip of a girl who can easily "slip" behind players packed back to back in chairs.  Therefore, she is the perfect caddy.  When Director Tom asked her to pick up the entry slips one day when caddies weren't really needed she said, "Do I get paid?"  Tom laughed admiringly and paid her.  During a Swiss team event, my Tuesday partner Carol asked her if she were getting paid to caddy.  She answered, "Do you think I would do this if I weren't?"  She may not have her brother's bridge skills but she has a great future on Wall Street.

I mentioned to Zach that, should he continue to become a bridge master,  people would pay him to partner with them.  He said, "Do you think Eddie Wold would pay me?"  "Well", I replied, "maybe not Eddie but someone like me would."  He looked disappointed.  If I had his skills, I'd look disappointed with that news too.

They are a lovely family with great kids.  If you haven't played against him yet, you are in for a treat.  Watch Zach fly.

Bridge Lessons Cont.

Seven year old, grandson, Noah, has had about 3 bridge lessons and downloaded a bridge training program on to his ipad.  Grandpa showed him how to take a finesse this morning.  However,  we heard when passing by an in progress ipad game, "I HATE no trump".  ahh - the kid has a great future.  He is a chip off the old grandmother block.