Three enormous cheers for Thomas Charlsen, Norwegian International and great friend and teammate, for setting up and working day and night to organise the World Bridge Tour ‘hybrid’ invitational, which last week saw the first live tournament held in Sopot, Poland’s Brighton-on-sea. Twelve teams competed at the wonderful Grand Hotel where we stayed and played.
It’s not unusual to get distracted at the bridge table, but sometimes that distraction takes peculiar forms. Last month, I was lucky enough to be on a team with the Swedish women’s gold medallists Jessica Larsson, Kathrine Bertheau and Sanna Clementsson – three of my favourite people. They had flown to Bristol to join me
In the real world many more contracts are made because the defence slipped up than because declarer did something brilliant. It is of course important to learn to communicate in defence, but we also need to learn to take charge and lead the way when the right path is clearly shown to us. When spotting
What an extraordinary two weeks for Richard Plackett and his team. First, they went to Tignes in France for the European Winter Games, where they fought some of the world’s best teams over seven gruelling days, and emerged with the crown. Elated but exhausted, three of them – Richard, Espen Erichsen and Peter Crouch –
‘The more I practise the luckier I get.’ This is the mantra used against those of us who are dumbfounded by the awfulness of picking up endless Yarboroughs at rubber bridge and playing against the only pair in the room to bid a slam in duplicate matches. But what about the other end of the
The American multiple world champion Eric Rodwell is truly a legend of bridge. He and his former partner Jeff Meckstroth were the best pair in the world for so long that they were referred to simply as ‘Meckwell’. When he published his book The Rodwell Files: Secrets of a Bridge Champion 12 years ago, it
I have played the Easter Guardian in one event or another for the past 20 years. It is the perfect Easter tournament and everybody has fun, particularly in the mixed pairs. I wasn’t interested in finding a slightly more exotic alternative; the Royal National Hotel in Russell Square was where I most wanted to be.
Working out ‘safety-plays’ is pretty tedious, but can be vital when playing rubber bridge or teams. Unlike matchpoint pairs, guarding against bad breaks to secure your contract is far more important than trying for overtricks. That said, it can be difficult to work out safety-plays quickly at the table, especially as they’re often counter-intuitive. Far
Imagine playing a tennis match against Nadal – and winning a game. Impossible, you would say (unless you happen to be Djokovic); but not very talented amateur bridge players can score big results against world champions – which is one of the things that makes it so special. I found out there was a smallish
The idea of going to a bridge tournament where you have to sit in a separate room to your partner, and play with tablets instead of cards, sounds like a dystopian nightmare. But that’s exactly what’s planned at the next US Nationals. The idea is to eliminate cheating between partners via unethical hesitations and mannerisms.
Maybe I’m wrong but I can’t think of another sport, Mind or otherwise, where you can play against world champions as soon as you have learned the basics. The American Nationals are probably the best events for superstar watching and there are always a few players in the bar happy to chat and encourage newbies.
Imagine you’re at an auction. As it begins, you turn to the other bidders and, with a few short words, scare them into remaining silent. Moments later, the hammer falls and you pick up a complete bargain. In real life, you’d need to use outright threats to stop people bidding. Not so in bridge –
The Camrose Trophy is the championship between the five home countries, held over two weekends, with the host country fielding a second team to ‘make up the numbers’. My team qualified to represent England for one of those weekends – Andrew Black’s strong squad played the other – and between us we won! And yes
I’ve always relished the raw emotion of bridge. Its old image as a gentle game for genteel people – what rubbish. It’s a game of passion; people explode, tables are upturned. That’s why we we love it so much. True, every bridge writer stresses the importance of partnership harmony, of never shouting, never blaming. But
Lockdown has opened up a new venue for bridge players all over the world: HOME! Last Sunday the Helgeland Junior Bridge Club organised an auction pairs online to raise money for their Juniors to play in the prestigious Marit Sveaas pairs tournament at the end of May. They opened the bidding online at the end
o think for a long time, I feel a strange mix of awe and inferiority. It’s not the fact that they’re thinking, of course – we all do that. It’s the awareness that when it comes to difficult hands, their thought processes resemble mine as much as an Olympic sprinter resembles a contestant in an
The Reykjavik Bridge Festival is one of my favourites – two days pairs and two days teams. Brilliantly organised, friendly and a very high standard – what’s not to love? I played with Artur Mali, and Thor Erik Hoffa found himself a new partner, 15-year-old Nicolai Heiberg-Evenstad, a Norwegian Junior of limitless talent, who lives,
If time and money were no object, I’d be jetting off to Vienna in a couple of weeks, then flying to Biarritz, then spending a week in New Orleans, back in time to catch a flight to Warsaw… and that would only take me up to April. Most people probably aren’t aware how many international
Susanna and I are very pleased to announce we have a Fan! His name is Tony Graham and he edits the newsletter for the Oban Bridge Club. In his email he says: ‘Of all the bridge columns I read weekly [insert all the top names], yours are the ones I enjoy the most and find
How often do you reach for the double card? Perhaps you’re a bit of a wimp like me. I’ve lost count of the times my inner voice has urged: ‘Double, Double!’ – a bit like the witches in Macbeth – only for me to ignore it and meekly pass. It’s pure fear of being wrong:
