Story by Don Messer (BBO: DCal)

I had heard bridge mentioned on television and in movies, but I knew nothing about it other than that it was some kind of weird card game. On the first day of college, I went to the Student Union for lunch and saw a bunch of people playing what I learned was bridge. Soon, I was playing too, but I had no idea what I was doing. I knew I needed thirteen points to open, but beyond that, I was totally ignorant. It was fun, though.

I had a job at a bookstore, and a novel about a bridge tournament, a National Championship in Florida, came out. The novel was popular, and a lot of people came to the store to buy it. One lady who often visited the store was a delightful person with a charming sense of humor named Bertha. It turned out that she played bridge. She told me that the people in the novel were based on real people. I told her that I played bridge but knew nothing about duplicate.

She suggested that I visit the bridge studio and watch a few hands. I took her up on her suggestion and sat beside her as she played with her partner. I watched four or five hands. They would have a brief discussion after one or two of them, but I had no idea what they were talking about.

One hand, however, stuck in my mind the next day. Bertha came to the store and asked if I remembered the hand from the evening before when she had gone down one. I told her I did, and that I would have taken the finesses she had avoided. Apparently, she thought I knew something about bridge and suggested that we play together the following Saturday afternoon at the bridge studio.

When I showed up on Saturday, Bertha was already sitting at a table with a thing called a convention card, much smaller and less detailed than they are today. She asked if I played Stayman or Two-Way Stayman. I had no idea what Stayman was. At this point, I am certain Bertha was already regretting asking me to play.

We came in last, of course, but since I did not know how to determine who had won or lost, all I knew was that I was enthralled with the game. It turned out that Bertha was one of the top players in the club and a top player in the state.

The main thing, however, which I did not appreciate for years, was Bertha's reaction after the game.

I was ignorant, of course, so I did not recognize the kindness Bertha had shown me. You would have thought we were major winners and a force to be reckoned with. She told me that she had had a wonderful time and encouraged me to play at the club. Following her advice, I took up the game with a number of other beginning players.

It was a couple of years before I had the pleasure of playing with Bertha again. She was still better than I was by a factor of at least a thousand, but she was a wonderful partner. We did better that time, finishing third overall.

Since then, I have learned that beginning players can be encouraged to improve when someone with more experience takes the time to encourage them to keep playing. I now look for opportunities to play with beginners and have come to appreciate the pleasure of watching them gain new insights and a better understanding of the game.

I now play bridge just about every day, give lessons online, and always encourage beginning players to stick with it. None of this would have happened if Bertha had not invited me to play and encouraged me to continue.

Bertha passed away many years ago from cancer, but the influence she had on me in 1968 has never gone away.