BRIDGE

I played in a bridge tournament today. 96 pairs were arbitrarily divided into eight groups of twelve. We then played twenty two hands in the morning, two against each of the other eleven pairs in the group. Based on the results of that exercise, the groups were rejigged over lunch, so that players were matched with those of the same ability. The winners of each group plus the four best seconds became the top group, the other seconds plus the eight thirds became the second group, and so on down. We then played a further thirty three hands in the afternoon, three against each other pair in the (new) group.

Although you would think that people always strive to do their best, tactics can in fact arise. Play too well in the morning, and you run the risk of ending up with the big boys, and being humiliated in the afternoon. Better perhaps to lie low in the morning, before storming through in the afternoon in a lowly group, and winning one of the handsome prizes, generously sponsored by the local brewery.

In our case, there was no opportunity to be tactical, since we came fifth in our group in the morning and ended up in the fourth best division, where we later finished fourth. That was enough to get a prize of six premium beers, which I will drink at my leisure during the course of the next few weeks. Together with a delicious lunch and an afternoon break for coffee and cake, I probably covered my entrance fee.

The highlight of the day was when I bid a grand slam in hearts, which my partner duly made. The bidding was quite complicated, and I had to think long and hard before I bid the final contract. Piqued by being slam dunked, our opponents reported me to the tournament leader for taking too much time, which I thought was a bit unfair. He thought so too, which was good.

Walter Blotscher