A story by Gordon Prager (BBO: GHHBRP)

“There’s no crying in baseball!” That admonition, delivered with splenetic frustration by Tom Hanks to Bitty Schram in A League of Their Own, came roaring forth from its sleeper cell memory pod when my spouse, Jo Ann, made a similarly instructive statement, albeit with utter calm and reasonableness, after a one-day silver points competition conducted at the Bridge Boardroom in York, Pennsylvania.

I was still in the foothills of learning and experiencing the in’s and out’s and nuances of club and tournament duplicate bridge.

Early on that day, in between my opening 1♠ and Jo Ann’s unobstructed response of 2♣, my mind had gone walkabout, metaphorically speaking, into the vastness of an astral meadow. Sublime solitude and intoxicating bouquets of wild lavender and lily of the valley filled the senses – again, metaphorically speaking. Through a creamy pastel haze, I emerged from the short-lived sojourn just as my RHO opponent passed. Eyeing the 2♣ card across the table, I deduced with negligent certainty she really must like her clubs – and passed.

My left-hand opponent seemed confused, shook her head, and turned toward Jo Ann to inquire in the form of a statement: “I thought you said you played Two-Over-One.”

Jo Ann sighed deeply as the third straight pass card hit the deck. “So did I.”

I could feel my blood pressure and body temperature rising by leaps and bounds. I had a vision of my head as a superheated pinata, with piercing jets of steam screaming out of every orifice and pore. How could I have missed her Two-Over-One?!

At the mid-session lunch break, Jo Ann boosted my hangdog spirits with understanding and encouragement. “Happens to the best of us. One board, over and out. We’re still in the hunt. Keep your head in the game is all. You can do it.”

Forgiven, if not forgotten, and humbly grateful for Jo Ann’s nurturing encouragement, I did rise to the occasion by recognizing all sorts of clever devices which are second nature to the seasoned player, yet brave new world to me – Cue Bid Limit Raises, Michaels, Support Doubles, and even the all too frequently overlooked Reverse.

Then came the next-to-last board of the day. Our opponents held thirty-three high card points and wasted little time arriving at 7NT, with the declarer sitting to my right. Three straight passes on, it was my lead. I carded the Ace of clubs.

Jo Ann, holding K-10-x, played the ten, a clarion call for me to proceed with another Club – for down two. Our opponents had gotten lost and entangled in the thornily confounding Gerber-Blackwood Thicket of Coded Responses and emerged under the impression they held all four bullets. The result would have been a high board for us anyway, but afterwards, out of earshot on the way to the car, Jo Ann asked, “Why didn’t you double? There was nowhere for them to hide after 7NT. You had them down one cold.”

“I could tell they messed up,” quoth I, “and I felt sorry for them.”

That elicited her no-crying-in-baseball inversion of the Golden Rule: “There’s no ‘feeling sorry’ in bridge. It’s a game of mistakes. They take advantage of yours. You take advantage of theirs. Period. End of story.”

“Darwin? Survival of the fittest? Dog-eat-dog?” quoth I.

“Yes, yes, and no,” she replied, patting my forearm. “We’re competitive, honey – absolutely. But not ruthless.”

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