Everyone over a certain age can remember the sense of shock that comes when policemen start looking like mere boys. Now I’m in my mid-forties, I get that kind of jolt quite frequently. It seems incredible to me that so many ‘authority’ figures in my life — my boss, my doctor, my lawyer, and so
My plan this week was to write wittily, but modestly, about our rise from the bowels of relegation after the first two disastrous weekends of the Premier League. I was going to tell you how important it is not to give up, to have faith in yourself and your team-mates and to keep on fighting
Bridge is a great leveller: at some point, it makes fools of us all. As a result, it’s probably best to steer clear of any definitive pronouncements — ‘I couldn’t make the hand’, or ‘there was no way to beat it’ — as there’s almost always someone who can prove you wrong. Even experts end
I love Bernard Teltscher. In fact, I proposed to him recently, but he politely declined, saying I was too old for him! He is 92 so I could be forgiven for thinking I was in with a chance. Bernard has sponsored the Lederer Memorial Trophy, England’s premier Invitational Teams’ Tournament, for as long as anyone
It’s difficult for non-players to imagine the extent to which bridge hands can torment us. I’ve spent hours this week mulling over a fiendishly complicated slam, endlessly jotting down diagrams on bits of paper and snapping at my children whenever they interrupted my train of thought. I described it last time — it was played
The season got off to a very bad start for my team — and continues in much the same vein. The Premier League, which has become the trials for the Camrose, is played over three weekends, this year starting in Manchester. Our first match was against David Mossop’s strong squad and we did rather well!
The 2013 IBPA (International Bridge Press Association) Awards have just been published — and it’s no great surprise to see the name of the multi-world champion Fulvio Fantoni (formerly of Italy, now of Monaco) scooping ‘Declarer Play of the Year’. Cover up the EW hands and see whether you find the same solution (I certainly
I defy anyone, even Tolstoy were he still alive and were he to abandon War and Peace for a bridge column, to avoid a shed load of clichés when describing the final of the Venice Cup in Bali, between the magnificent English Ladies and their American counterparts. Let me make do with heart-stopping. With seven
This week I’m tackling one of the great unmentionable subjects of bridge: the fact that players so seldom go to the loo when they need to. We sit for long hours ignoring our bladders rather than risk missing a moment of the action. I’ve always assumed this was bad not just for the kidneys but
If you are allergic to wasp stings, may I give you a word of advice? Keep away from them! Don’t hang around. Don’t flap your arms. Just leave the vicinity quickly and quietly. I wish I had shared these words of wisdom with Artur, my partner in Patrick Jourdain’s highly enjoyable Welsh Invitational Pairs last
In any sport, a sense of elation is a dangerous thing. When a player does something good, he can’t afford to enjoy the moment: however dazzling the goal he’s scored or the ace he’s served, he can’t relax until the match is over. And so it is in bridge. It’s hard advice to follow: I’ve
Holiday over – and I hopped on the plane home dribbling with excitement. I was going straight to Young Chelsea to play the Friday night IMPs duplicate with my Polish friend, whose unpronounceable name has metamorphosed into Saucepan. It was heaven to be back, even though we did not exactly shine — unlike Tim Gauld.
Two weeks of watching the 2nd World Mind Sports have come to an end and I feel rather like I did after the last episode of The Killing. Bereft. The English Ladies proved that, with the help of a drop of lavender oil, they are the undisputed Queens of the World, taking both European and
If jealousy is measured in twinges my twinge-o-meter has gone viral. On my self-imposed sabbatical, otherwise known as a holiday, I was painfully aware, day after day, that I was missing the Brighton Bridgefest. Ten days of pairs, teams and midnight speedballs while I ‘relax’. Ouch. Twingeing again. The last event is the hugely popular
I’m on the train back from the Brighton Congress, where I’ve been playing in the Swiss Pairs, and I’m still kicking myself over the very last deal of the tournament. There are few things more satisfying in bridge — well, in life actually — than squeezing an opponent, and I squandered a perfect opportunity. It
We all need time off from our addictions and August is my annual holiday and break from bridge. One of the best tournaments I have had to give up is the Chairman’s Cup in Sweden. Of course I watch on BBO but it only makes it harder to be out of the action. This year’s
I haven’t played rubber bridge for a few years now (the demands of young children), but recently I’ve been hearing the siren call again — and decided to pop into my old haunt TGRs. I wanted to watch for a while, rather than play (I’m too rusty), and what great timing it turned out to
Friday 19 July saw Young Chelsea’s last duplicate at the old premises in Barkston Gardens. And what a swell party it was! Sold out with two weeks to go, 30 pairs took part in a quiz, the famous Friday night IMPs duplicate, and a midnight speedball. Everyone who is anyone has played at YC on
There was a particularly juicy deal during the recent European Open Mixed Teams in Ostend, which led to many pairs bidding and making a grand slam. My teammates, however, were prevented from reaching even a small slam when the Swedish player Peter Fredin made a devilish psychic bid against them. After two passes to him,
Tor Helness, the Norwegian-born superstar who now plays for Monaco, partnering his wife Gunn in the European Mixed Teams, had a total meltdown and stormed out when she let through 3NT. As you would. When he stormed back in she informed him that he would be playing the rest of the tournament with their (female)
