We've all done and said things at the bridge table we'd prefer to forget. My favorite personal cringe story is from when I was excitedly cramming the basics of defense before a match with Alison Shoemaker. Al is one of the kindest, gentlest partners you could wish for, and that kindness was put to the test during the following exchange about standard carding:

 

Me: So. I can lead a top of a sequence, right?

Al: Yes.

Me: And, with two stupid nothing cards -

Al: Small.

Me: What?

Al: Stupid nothing cards are called small in Bridgespeak.

Me: Oh that's cute! Anyway from two small I play the top one first, right?

Al: Right. Same if I lead to you. Top one first unless it's a doubleton queen -

Me: Shh! That's too complicated! I can't do that weird doubleton queen thing. Please don't count on me to do that yet.

Al: Okay.

Me: Okay. Now. Here's a tough one: Leading from three stupid but cute  small, I start low against a suit contract and high against Notrump, right?

Al: Yup. And -

Me: Shh. Let me say it. Same thing with four small. Right?

Al: Right.

Me: Ha! Aren't you proud of me for remembering that?

Al: Yes, very good. They're waiting for us - let's sit down.

Me: No, hang on, there's something else to review, and it's really bothering me, I'm trying remember the answer and it's extremely important.

Al: What?

Me: Let me think about it a second. Darn. I used to know this. Um...

Al: Susan, we should really sit down. Check with me after this round.

Me: No, it might happen in this round . I'm supposed to know how to handle this one, but it's tough. Okay forget it, I don't know the answer; never mind. I know I'll mess it up, but let's go, they're waiting...

Al: Quick, what's the question?

Me: What do I play if you lead to me and all I have is a singleton?

 

It's awful when you reveal this kind of bone-headedness in front of opponents. At nationals last week in Atlanta, playing in a Swiss with Lisa Mita, we had one of those men who's certain he's got it all figured out and has made it his mission never to miss one single opportunity to share his wealth of knowledge with his long-suffering wife. The auction went like this:

 

Man: 1S

Lisa: Double

Wife: Redouble

Me (with unpromising points and a fair diamond suit): 2D

Man: Pass

Lisa: Pass

Wife: 4S

Me: Pass

Man (exasperated, empties the entire front section of his bidding box onto the table in front of him): Pass-pass-alert-redouble-pass-double-double-pass! And  why, on God's green  earth, couldn't you just leave me in 1S redoubled like a normal person would?

 

Think about it.

 

Here are two memorable cringers from earlier in the tournament. These were so bad they made a side bar in the Bulletin. Names withheld to protect the perpetrators. (No fair trying to look them up.)

 

John Dickenson habitually meets up at Summer Nationals with his friend Gene Kales from Michigan for a few days of pairs. Playing a two-session open game they were dealt this hand. Gene was East and John West.

North passed and so did Gene. South bid a club. John overcalled 2NT to show his monster red hand, North passed and Gene made a preemptive jump to 5D (go Gene go!). South sensibly doubled due to black suits and three quick tricks. John passed, probably laughing in his sleeve, which is hard to do when wearing a tee shirt (Atlanta was hot last week) and this is when North woke up and made a call:

 

2S.

 

The director was summoned. It was determined that 2S was, as the Bulletin puts it, "a really,  really insufficient bid."

 

North had a think and tried 3S, which "satisfied nobody," and so the bid was withdrawn and substituted with a pass, barring South from further action. Gene made 5D doubled for a top, even though, ironically, as the bulletin points out, the legal substitute call of 5 or even 6S makes in a perfect world.

 

Later in the same session, they got the deal below. John and Gene passed throughout, and the opponents bid easily to 6H in the North.

 

 

Gene led the queen of clubs, which North took in dummy with the ace. At trick two, declarer called for "a heart" from dummy. The two was dutifully led, which John covered with the three. North put down his four of hearts (thinking, one can assume, that he'd led a king from dummy like anyone in his right mind would have with this particular holding). Gene, "who  was  paying attention, recovered sufficiently from the shock of seeing the four to win with the five," then cashed the ace of spades and, again, got all the matchpoints.

Susan Morse is an actress and bestselling author of two memoirs: The  Habit, and The Dog Stays in the Picture. Her third, chronicling  a  recent  headlong dash into duplicate bridge, will be finished if sh e can jus t stop playing long enough to write.