Susanna Gross

I enjoyed playing in the Surrey Mixed Pairs with my friend Guy Hart last Sunday. It was a friendly event, and Guy, with his frequent witty quips, makes me laugh more than anyone. We played pretty well (not too many mistakes), so I must admit we were disappointed with our below par result. The thing is, the event was mixed in more ways than one: plenty of good players, but plenty of weak ones too. Poor players give out plenty of ‘gifts’, and if you’re not lucky enough to get any – and we weren’t – it’s hard to do well. Early on, for instance, we sat against a couple who announced that they were playing ‘three Weak Twos’. ‘What’s your strong bid?’ Guy asked. ‘Er… 3NT,’ said North. ’No other?’ Guy wondered. ‘Well, 4NT would be stronger.

The World Bridge Games are taking place in Buenos Aires and I’m glued to my screen, kibitzing and checking the results at every opportunity. The superstars are out in force, and it’s riveting to compare the way they approach the same hands – and a great way to learn. That said, you’ll see certain bids which you probably shouldn’t try to emulate: their instincts and imaginations are on an altogether higher plane than most of ours. Indeed, I saw a number of bids which, if anyone I teach had made, I’d have ‘corrected’ at once! Representing the USA in the Seniors Teams, for instance, Zia Mahmood (South), picked up ♠️J ♥️-♦️AKJ107643 ♣️AK82. When East opened 1♥️ he passed!

Being a bridge pro is a dream job – I mean, how many people get to make a living playing a game they love? My friend Ollie Burgess is one of the best pros in London; he’s in constant demand, and deservedly so. He really enjoys playing with clients, especially those who have an aptitude for the game and are keen to work and improve. It’s obviously more frustrating playing with people who (to be blunt) don’t have a knack for bridge and never will. But even that can pose a fun challenge. To try and compensate for their mistakes requires skill and inventiveness, and Ollie has both in abundance. He recently showed me this hand he defended with a client at a tournament in Oxford (see diagram). 2♣ was Stayman.

Have you ever made a bid based on the assumption that your partner has forgotten your system? It’s not as unreasonable as it might sound. Everyone forgets bits of their system now and again, and if a bid doesn’t make sense to you, that could well be why. Even so, it’s an uncomfortable dilemma: whether to assume your partner has erred and risk a very red face if they haven’t, or trust them at the risk of landing in a ridiculous contract. It’s a problem even top players sometimes face. During a recent Young Chelsea Super League match, the England international Stefano Tommasini and Sebastian Atisen, one of his regular partners, ended up in a 0-0 fit (see diagram).

The famous exchange between Sherlock Holmes and Inspector Gregory of Scotland Yard in Arthur Conan Doyle’s short story ‘The Adventure of Silver Blaze’ will resonate with all good bridge players. Gregory: ‘Is there any other point to which you would wish to draw my attention?’ Holmes: ‘To the curious incident of the dog in the night-time.’ Gregory: ‘The dog did nothing in the night-time.’ Holmes: ‘That was the curious incident.’ Holmes was, of course, referring to the fact that the dog didn’t bark, therefore it must have known the intruder. Making deductions from negative inferences is vital at the bridge table, too. You can often deduce as much about the opponents’ hands from what they don’t bid, or discard, or lead, as from what they do.

Anyone who plays bridge competitively knows how stressful it can be. If you wonder how world-class players cope, you should read The Art of Becoming a Top Bridge Player by Samantha Punch. Sam is not just a Scottish international, but also a professor of sociology. She interviewed scores of well-known names on topics ranging from how they recover from their mistakes to how they become better partners. Quite a few lesser players were also interviewed – as it happens, I was one of them. I talk about not always being able to control my emotions at the table – which is bad, but in mitigation, I’m not alone. Zia Mahmood says he’s just ‘red-blooded’, and points out that the Italians, whenever they have a bad board, lift the screen and scream at each other.

Bridge is a love affair which never dims. Even after all these years, it still excites and energises me – and I’m almost embarrassed to admit how often I dream about it. Last week, for instance, I was watching the North American Bridge Championships from my laptop at home, when I saw a deal that fascinated me. I kept mulling it over and, that night, I dreamt I was desperate to find someone to tell. I was rushing from one person to another, but no one – not friends, nor family – showed the slightest interest. So what a relief to be able to share it here, with fellow fanatics (see diagram). 3♠ showed the minors, 4NT was keycard, 5♥ asked for the trump Q, and 5NT offered a choice of slams. 6NT would have been better, but 6♣ makes so long as you cater for a 4-1 split.

When is a duck not a duck? Answer: when it’s a hold-up. I do love bridge terminology. Though the two manoeuvres are mechanically identical (you deliberately refrain from winning a trick by playing low), strictly speaking a duck is in your own suit, while a hold-up is in a suit played by your opponents. Either way, a duck/hold-up is one of the most formidable weapons in bridge. It can be used to sever communication between opponents, cut declarer off from dummy, establish a long suit and much more. The trouble is, because it’s so often the right thing to do, players sometimes duck without proper thought. And that can be very dangerous – especially when your opponent is as sharp and imaginative as England’s Fiona Brown.

I’ve just come back from Herning in Denmark, where the European championships are taking place. I was playing with my friend Catherine Draper (herself a former gold medallist) in a side event, the European women’s pairs – brilliantly organised, and open to anyone. We qualified for the A-final, but finished a disappointing tenth. I can’t pretend the fatigue of playing eight hours a day didn’t lead to a couple of moments of madness. The most bizarre was when we bid to 3♠ against a Danish pair. I put dummy down, and Catherine exclaimed: ‘We’ve both got the ace of spades!’ We all laughed, and called for the director: he told us to move on to the next board. Ten minutes later, he returned. ‘OK, we know what happened: South [me!

‘It’s a sad day when I don’t get to re-double anyone,’ the England international Mike Bell said to me the other day, after I’d complimented him on how often – and effectively – he pulls out the red card. Most players are far more trepidatious when it comes to making penalty doubles and redoubles. Mike is fearless – he ups the stakes whenever he feels it’s odds-on to do so. It helps, of course, to have excellent judgment. This hand comes from last month’s World Bridge Tour teams in Bodo, Sweden. Mike was South. His Partner was Michael Byrne. His opponents were the top German pair Roy Welland and Sabine Auken. 1♣ was natural or balanced. North’s 2u could have been fairly weak, as 3u would have shown 14-16 points.

We all pause to think when playing, but – let’s be honest – it’s usually as basic as re-capping the bidding or counting points and distribution. When great players stop to think, you just know they’re on a higher plane, probably contemplating things that wouldn’t occur to the rest of us. But what? Luckily, when they’re good friends, you can simply ask. During the recent European Transnational Championships, David Gold made an intriguing play which I later quizzed him about (see diagram). *Hearts and a minor. South led the ◆5. David won with the ◆A, and played ♠A and another spade. South won and exited with a diamond. David won with the ◆Q, cashed dummy’s ♥A, ruffed a heart, crossed to the ◆K, ruffed a heart, and exited with a spade.

I was chatting to my friends Alice Coptcoat and Natalie Hoff at the Acol last week, when Alice mentioned that she’d enjoyed Andrew Robson’s recent BridgeCast about a hand he played against Natalie at the Lederer Trophy. ‘Oh, that hand!’ Natalie exclaimed. ‘It was beautiful. I’ll never forget the way he dropped my singleton king, then played every card to perfection before end-playing me.’ I’m not sure I’ve seen anyone quite so elated at the memory of being beaten before, but when a player of Andrew’s calibre pits his brilliant brain against you, frankly it’s an honour. Natalie (West) led the ♣5, Andrew played low and East (Mike Bell) won with the ♣K. With a probable loser in each suit, prospects were poor.

There are nearly two dozen Rules in bridge to help you in the bidding and play. The Rule of 20, for instance: open the bidding (in any seat) when your points plus the number of cards in your two longest suits come to at least 20. Or the Rule of 15: open in 4th seat if your points plus your number of spades (the suit most likely to win a part-score) equals at least 15. Or the Rule of 7: if a suit is led v NT, and the ace is your only stopper, decide how many times to hold up by subtracting the total number of cards you and dummy hold in the suit from 7. All the rules are based on maths and probability (far beyond my understanding). Yet while they may provide a useful guide, to obey them blindly would be absurd – you can’t play bridge by following formulas.

I’ve been waiting for what feels like decades to make a contract by means of an intra-finesse. And not just because I love the name. When I first read about the manoeuvre, my mind was blown away in the same way it was when I first encountered squeeze-plays: ‘impossible’ games could be made! The trouble with intra-finesses is that they are nearly as rare as nightingales. Indeed, they were virtually unknown to anyone apart from experts until about 50 years ago, when the great Brazilian Gabriel Chagas – a three-time world champion – contributed to a book in which top players gave their favourite bridge tips. He was the first to explain the technique, bringing it to a wider audience (some say he also gave it its name).

If you watch world-class players online, you’ll notice how often they use the red penalty--card. Most of us are far too hesitant: we feel we pretty much have to guarantee a contract won’t make before we double. But as Zia Mahmood once said: ‘If every contract you double goes down, you’re not doubling enough.’ Very true. But he might have added that it does depend a bit on the person you’re doubling. Be cautious with players who seem to pull tricks out of hats, or who, as a result of your double, might find a brilliant alternative line – Zia himself, for instance. Another great player who should come with a warning sign is Gunnar Hallberg. He was at London’s rubber bridge club TGRs recently, and at one point, bid to 4♠.

Last weekend’s women’s trials for the European championships – a playoff between two teams of four – was surprisingly enjoyable. Not only was I lucky enough to be partnering Paula Leslie, but also all eight of us got on exceptionally well. I don’t think I’ve ever experienced that level of friendliness in such a crucial match. Which made it marginally less painful when my team eventually lost by 205 to 242 imps. I’m still kicking myself for my mistakes, of course. But there’s one hand I just didn’t know how to bid – and still don’t, even after canvassing the opinions of some top players (see diagram). In the other room, 7NT was reached after an auction which began 2♣-2♥-3◆-4NT. Paula opened 1◆. Of those I asked most preferred 2♣.

It might be time to start showing more respect to your dummy. Yes, you’re the boss, the brains, the living force behind the contract; dummy is just an inanimate row of cards at your disposal. But sometimes you need to bring it alive in your imagination, swap seats, see things from its upside-down point of view. Contracts which seemed bleak can suddenly have much brighter prospects. A dummy reversal basically involves ruffing dummy’s losers in the long trump hand (declarer’s), turning it into the short trump hand, and draw the oppo’s trumps with dummy’s trumps (convoluted as that sounds). I’m not one of those players for whom it comes naturally to shift perspective – I have to kick myself to remember. But it seems I’m not the only one.

I always put on weight when I play in bridge tournaments: the build-up of stress and concentration makes me ravenous. Sally Brock often reminds me of the time, many years ago, that we played in the women’s trials at the YC, which was then based in Earl’s Court. When it was over, she asked if I’d like to join her and a few others for dinner at a local Italian. I told her that, unfortunately, I had other plans. In truth, I was craving junk food. Fifteen minutes later, Sally and co were sitting at a window table, when they saw me walk past stuffing a Big Mac into my mouth. Ten minutes later, Sally saw me walk past again, this time scoffing KFC drumsticks from a bucket.

Bidding would be so much easier if you didn’t have opponents. Imagine if you and your partner were given a clear run, without interference from those pesky players on either side. But that’s not bridge. Getting in your way is what opponents do – at the highest level possible. Having to judge whether to bid up, shut up or double them is where the real money is. This deal from the first division of the 2023 English Premier League showed perfect judgment by all four players: North, Andrew McIntosh (‘Tosh’), opened a light 1ª. East, Derek Patterson, made a vulnerable pre-empt of 2«. South, Tom Paske, bid an artificial 2NT to show an invitational or better hand with heart support. West, Phil King, jumped to 4«.

One of the things I like most about bridge is that it allows you to be sociable without actually having to talk to anybody. At the Year End Congress, held between Christmas and the New Year, it was lovely to see all the familiar faces. But what a relief not to have to answer the sort of bland questions people usually ask. ‘Did you have a good Christmas?’ etc. I much prefer people asking about things they really want to know, like: ‘Do you play standard count?’ As for that dreariest of greetings – ‘How are you?’ – must I really bore us both with my reply? But it’s never dull to be greeted with: ‘Hello, are you weak or strong?’ I played the Mixed Pairs with my friend Kevin Castner.