Some people make a living from bridge. A select few even manage to make a good one. But compared to the size of the bridge-playing population, the number of people who are professionally involved—whether as players or in bridge-related jobs—is tiny, maybe one in a few hundred. Meanwhile, there are countless others who work tirelessly for the bridge community, investing their time, knowledge, and money, often for little or no profit. These are the unsung heroes of our game, the ones who keep it thriving and make it such a welcoming and enjoyable experience—the little bees behind the scenes.
In this festive edition, I’d like to reflect on those who devote themselves to the game and make our experience better. Here are some of the most frequent contributors:

Teachers

Teachers are the bridge between our game and the outside world. They carry the enormous responsibility of introducing newcomers to bridge. Their job isn’t just to teach the rules but to inspire and motivate their students. Most teachers aren’t professionals—they often teach periodically for a modest fee. In many countries, they don’t have formal training in pedagogy and must educate themselves on how to teach effectively.
Teaching bridge is especially challenging because classes often include people of different generations, backgrounds, and skill levels. Teachers prepare lessons, thematic boards, and exercises. But more than that, they pour their enthusiasm, hope, and faith into every new class. They know that only a handful of their students will stick with bridge, yet they give their best regardless.
Teachers endure disappointment and frustration but keep welcoming new students year after year, hoping for that occasional thrill when a student applies a concept correctly. Their pride is immeasurable when they see their students’ names on the results list of an important tournament.
Bridge teachers often face criticism—perhaps for teaching an outdated system, oversimplifying or overcomplicating topics, or losing patience when students need nurturing.
In one of my first classes, I had a student, Ogi. Over the years, we became friends and now regularly play in major events on the same team. He’s one of the best players in the country. I know that beginner course I taught decades ago, when I was a nervous young girl with high hopes, helped shape his path. Ogi alone makes all my teaching worthwhile—he’s my greatest reward.

Club Managers

Club managers are the lifeblood of the local bridge scene. On paper, their job might sound straightforward: announce games, set up bidding boxes and boards, and let players come. Easy, right? But in reality, they must be resourceful and creative to secure playing spaces and attract players.
Clubs are more than just rooms with tables—they’re communities where people connect, escape from daily life, and feel welcome. A good club manager builds the club’s identity, or “personality,” which shapes its atmosphere and how people experience it.
Club managers wear many hats: they’re organizers, tournament directors, promoters, cleaners, waiters, accountants, psychologists, and more. One manager I know even drove elderly players to and from the club because otherwise, they wouldn’t have come. During the pandemic, thousands of clubs closed, and many are still struggling with low attendance and high rents. Yet club managers persevere, keeping these vital community spaces alive.

Tournament Organizers

One of my favorite tournaments is in Pécs, Hungary. For a time, it struggled to survive, with fewer than 10 teams attending despite the organizers’ tireless efforts. They were an older couple who cared deeply about the event and nurtured it as best they could, though they struggled to adapt to changing times.
I remember one year when we only came for the team event and planned to skip the pairs tournament. When I told the organizer we were leaving, I found him sitting in the ornate, slightly worn ballroom—one I’d walked through countless times before. He thanked me for coming and wished me a safe journey, but as he crossed our names off the pairs list, his hand trembled slightly. It was a quiet moment of disappointment.
That small gesture moved me, and I changed my mind. We stayed two more days, played the pairs event, and earned a token prize—a bottle of Tokaj wine—for some minor category, like “Best Foreign Mix.” The prize didn’t matter; what mattered was the appreciation and the sense that our presence made a difference.
The old organizer has since passed away, and new people now run the tournament with fresh energy. It’s modernized but still draws from its rich tradition. Pécs will always be special to me—not because of its attendance, prizes, or luxury, but because of the feeling that we truly mattered.

Sponsors & Caretakers

Sponsorship in bridge is a topic of debate, but it’s undeniably a vital part of our culture. Wealthy sponsors often pay to play with top players, enabling young talent to focus on bridge full-time and compete at the highest levels.
But there’s another kind of sponsor—the “mini-sponsors.” These are well-off players who quietly help their friends afford tournaments. They often don’t seek stronger teammates but instead support those who might not otherwise participate, providing a gentle push to keep them in the game.
There are no formal arrangements with these mini-sponsors; they act more like caretakers than patrons. They’re the connective tissue of the bridge community, holding it together until better circumstances arise.

The Wheels

The “wheels” of bridge are the most invisible contributors, yet they keep the game moving forward. These are the enthusiasts who develop new ideas and practices to improve bridge in countless ways.
Some work for official bridge organizations, while others contribute out of sheer passion. Their efforts include developing and testing bidding systems, translating and updating rules, creating bridge-related software, writing, producing media, and even watching endless videos to catch cheaters. Most of us are unaware of their work, but we benefit from it daily.

Ordinary Players

In bridge, as in other sports, the spotlight shines on top players. But ordinary players—whether live or online—are the foundation of the game. They’re the ones who keep it alive, vibrant, and worth the effort for everyone else.
If ordinary players decided tomorrow that bridge was no longer part of their lives, the entire structure would collapse.

A Moment of Gratitude

I believe it’s important to recognize all these contributors, even those who might not directly impact our personal bridge experience. Bridge is a massive, interconnected system, and we all depend on one another.
So, take a moment to thank someone in the bridge world—your teacher, partner, club manager, tournament director, or anyone else who has made you smile. And if you’d like, share your story in the comments.

About the author

Tihana Brkljačić is a psychologist and a bridge player. She teaches psychology and bridge at Zagreb university. She represented Croatia at multiple European championships and at The World Championship (Wuhan cup) in 2022. As a psychologist, her main areas of interest are in quality of life, well-being and communication. Additionally, she studies the psychology of games (focusing on bridge in particular) and consults players on various topics.