Susanna Gross

On the whole, I’ve enjoyed playing bridge from the comfort of home during lockdown. One regrettable outcome, however, is that I’ve taken up smoking again. Cards and cigarettes just go too well together. Back in the days before smoking was banned indoors, we puffed away so much at TGR’s rubber bridge club that I couldn’t go on anywhere without washing my hair and clothes first —no perfume was strong enough. Even among tournament players, smoking seemed to be encouraged. The England player Patrick Collins told me that he took up smoking in 1970 when first prize in the Torquay Congress was 200 Benson & Hedges.

I would never say that bridge is just a game — for many of us, it’s a lifetime’s vocation. However, some players heap too much pressure on themselves; they fret if they’ve had a disturbed night’s sleep or feel a slight sniffle coming on — anything that might impair their focus. They practise breathing techniques, insist on absolute silence at the table, and castigate themselves for the smallest mistake. The effect is often counter-productive; they’d probably do better if they simply lightened up. Someone firmly of this view is the manager of TGR’s rubber bridge club, Artur Malinowski. Whenever his customers are fraught or playing badly, his solution is to offer them a tipple — whatever the time of day, and however high the stakes.

One of the pleasures of kibitzing online tournaments is that when an intriguing hand comes up, you can flick back and forth to see how different players tackle it. I’m drawn in particular to players whose boldness and imagination always make them highly entertaining to watch — two of whom are Artur Malinowksi and Steve Root. On this deal from last week’s OCBL May Cup, neither of them disappointed. Starting with Steve, who was North. West, Gunnar Hallberg, opened a strong 2♣. East’s 2◆ was a relay, and 3♥ was natural. What lead do you think Steve led against 3NT? You got it — the ♥4! South’s ♥10 won, and back came a heart — one down.

I’m not surprised so many scientific studies have shown that bridge staves off dementia: the game provides a constant workout for the memory. It usually takes people years before they can recall how many cards have been played in each suit — and not just how many, but which ones. Honours are easier to keep track of, but the smaller spot cards can be devilishly hard to remember, unless you have a photographic memory. Failing to notice even the most insignificant-looking card can prove costly later on. Playing in a recent Andrew Robson Club duplicate, England international Nevena Senior showed how just vital it is to keep your eyes sharp (she was West). North led the ♥4 to South’s ♥K and Nevena’s ♥A.

It was great to see an England team win the hotly contested World Bridge Tour ‘Survivor Cup’ recently. Many congratulations to Tim Leslie, Ollie Burgess, Michael Byrne, Kieran Dyke, Ben Norton and Mike Bell. Of course at that level, it’s not enough to play well — you also need flair. My friend Mike Bell is one of those players whose imagination is always at work. You might not guess it: he seems unshowy, methodical and down-to-earth (apart from his eccentric refusal to wear a jumper or coat whatever the weather). But down the years I’ve often been dazzled by his ability to visualise his opponents’ cards and entice them down the wrong path. Take his defence on this hand (he was North). South led the ♣J to Mike’s ♣A.

I sometimes get far too intense when I’m playing bridge online. Holed up in my study at home, wearing noise-cancelling headphones, I forbid my children from interrupting and bark angrily if they do. When things go well, I’m elated, but when I make a blunder or suffer bad luck, I feel genuine angst. The other evening, my 13-year-old daughter Milly wandered into my bedroom as I was kibitzing a game. She snuggled up to me for a while and then, assuming I was playing rather than watching, exclaimed: ‘Mum, no offence, but you should play in your pyjamas in bed more often — you’re much more relaxed and always know exactly what to do.

These days, most tournaments take place either on Bridge Base Online or Realbridge. I far prefer BBO for one reason: privacy. By contrast, Realbridge uses cameras and microphones — meaning you can’t play in your pyjamas, let anyone wander into the room, or shout at the screen when annoyed. Just as bad, you see far more of your opponents than you might want. Recently, I played against a man who was busy chomping on a hamburger, giving us a gory close-up of the inside of his mouth; then there was the woman who must have forgotten her camera was still on between rounds, and gave her a nose a thorough picking. Anyway, I was relieved to be playing on BBO last week in the international Monthly Mixed Teams.

If anyone is going to cause me agonies at the bridge table in front of 800 kibitzers by subjecting me to a rare trump squeeze, I’d rather it was a superstar of the game. Alfredo Versace, linchpin of the Italian team for 20 years, is a multiple European and world champion. Last Thursday, my partner Peter Taylor and I found ourselves battling against him in the semi-finals of an international mixed teams tournament. Our teammates — Catherine Draper and Andrew Woodcock, David Gold and Catherine Seale — had played superbly all week, and we didn’t want to let them down. Then came this hand: West’s 2NT was Jacoby; the rest were cue-bids. Sitting South, I led a heart, partner’s suit. Versace (East) ruffed in hand, then played trumps.

This is a great time to be a young bridge player. When I took up the game in my twenties, it was decidedly uncool. It was poker’s fuddy-duddy older cousin. But, these days, tournaments are packed with glamorous youngsters having the time of their lives —none more so than the junior squads travelling the world representing their countries. This transformation is largely due to a concerted push by the international bridge community to encourage young talent. No organisation has been more energetic than our own English Bridge Union. And things are looking even brighter now that Claire Robinson has been appointed the new junior liaison officer. One of her first initiatives was a ‘Play with the Experts’ online pairs tournament for our youngest squad, the under-16s.

In general, I don’t like to play bridge just for fun: I prefer the cut-throat atmosphere of a tournament, or the adrenaline rush of high-stake rubber. But a couple of times a year I meet up with old friends at the card table: there’s lots of banter, too much wine, and the bridge gets sillier as the night wears on. I’ve been sorely missing these evenings, and fondly remembering our three rules: to play quickly, avoid lengthy post-mortems, and abide by ‘Zia’s Law’. This is based on a tip Zia Mahmood gave me long ago. It was obviously a joke, but he swore it worked miracles. It goes like this: if your partner is dealer and there are two passes to you, you should open a spade without looking at your hand.

The American professor Martin Seligman is one of the most influential psychologists in the world. Known as the father of ‘positive psychology’, he has written numerous bestselling books on the power of optimism, arguing it’s something that can be learned, can cure depression, boost your immune system, and help you reach your goals. Seligman is also a well-known bridge player. His success at the table is down to two guiding philosophies: first, the importance of hiring professionals to keep improving — he’s not super-wealthy, but, as he says, ‘being a client costs me about as much as others spend on their clothes (I spend almost zero on clothes).’ The second, you’ll have guessed, is to have an attitude of positivity.

When lockdown began, all those months ago, I remember chatting to a few of England’s top players about the shift to online bridge. They were dubious, to say the least. They didn’t really enjoy it; nor did they think they were much good at it. Other experts shared their concerns. The inferences and clues they picked up face-to-face — their ‘table presence’ — were such a big part of their game; how could online bridge be anything but a pale imitation of the real thing? Roll on a year, and their fears have largely been allayed. The great players have found their form. They can still ‘read’ their opponents and get a feel for the cards; they can be as dazzling onscreen as they are in the flesh.

It’s so much easier to play bridge well when luck is on your side. You’ve just doubled your opponents and collected a huge penalty, or made a grand slam on a finesse — and suddenly you start playing like Helgemo, with sharpened wits and perfect judgment. Luck breeds luck, and you don’t have to be a neuroscientist to figure it out: the brain works significantly better when you’re feeling positive. The converse is also true, of course. Once you’ve had some bad luck or made a silly mistake, everything starts going downhill. Why? Because being demoralised impairs your memory and decision-making skills. The great challenge is to stay positive whatever happens — and that is the mindset of all top players.

It’s surprising how quickly we adapt to things: nine months ago, most of us had never played bridge online before, yet it feels almost normal now. One slightly surreal side-effect is the way an older generation of players have begun using text-acronyms with the gusto of teenagers: TY, SY, NP and, if anything remotely funny happens, it’s LOL every time. Actually, some acronyms took me a while to get used to. In my very first online game, my partner typed ‘GLP’ as I was about to play a doubled contract; puzzled, I concluded it was short for gulp. I was slightly insulted that he kept typing ‘gulp’ whenever I was about to play — until the penny dropped; he was wishing me luck. I’d been thrown by the quaint formality of adding P for partner.

Each November, Paula Leslie organises the Young Chelsea Women’s Teams — a fantastic event, attracting many of Europe’s best players to London. It was a shame it had to be held online this year — but I must say there was something rather magical about competing on ‘Realbridge’ with video streaming and sound. How extraordinary to be playing against women from a range of countries — Poland, Norway, Sweden, Serbia, Denmark, France — and to see them in their own homes, sipping coffee, puffing on cigarettes, even slurping noisily from a bowl of soup (as a nice woman from Wales did). Eight months ago the idea would have seemed outlandish. As usual, I was playing from London.

It’s been a busy week of bridge. First came the Lady Milne, the women’s home internationals. As the host nation, England had two teams; my partner Qian Li and I qualified for the second. I’ve played in the Lady Milne quite a few times before, and it felt strange and slightly unreal to be doing so online this year — especially as my partner was in China. Still, it was fun, and we finished third, a hair’s breadth behind Wales (but some way behind England’s first team). Next came the OCBL international mixed teams: I was lucky enough to be on Jonathan Harris’s team. Jonathan is one of the most delightful people I’ve met through bridge, and his team is hard to beat for warmth, camaraderie and sheer fun.

I know its only October, but I’ve already found the perfect Christmas present for bridge-lovers: Simon Cochemé’s new book, Bridge With a Twist. It’s full of quirky observations, funny anecdotes, snippets of history and flights of fancy. There are jokes, some old (‘My bridge partner ran off with my wife, and let me tell you, I really miss him’), some new (‘My wife uses the double card so much she’s known as my x-wife’). There are tales from tournament directors about the crazy things they’ve been summoned for — like the player who complained he’d misdefended because declarer had sounded so confident when thanking dummy that he’d been led to believe the contract was making.

‘I have a wonderful hand to show you,’ Gunnar Hallberg exclaimed when I saw him last week. Gunnar is a world-class professional, now in his early seventies, whose passion for bridge remains undimmed. Since lockdown, there’s scarcely a high-level online tournament he hasn’t competed in, so naturally I assumed the hand came from one of those. But no: it turned out to be from the site FunBridge, where he spends his free time playing for sheer pleasure with three robots! He’s clearly fascinated by them. ‘The thing is, their bidding is really bad — they rely too much on points and not shape — but their play and defence is so pure.

The Alt Invitational is a prestigious online teams tournament held every fortnight or so, packed with world-class players. It’s not easy to secure a place, but my friend Jonathan Harris managed it for the first time last week. Things didn’t start well for his 11-strong team, and by Thursday morning, after four days of play, it seemed impossible they would qualify for the quarterfinals. As it happens, I spent Thursday afternoon playing rubber bridge with two of the team, Steve Root and Niall Igoe (with a client of ours who doesn’t like playing online). As Steve and I travelled home in the same direction, he got an urgent text: they were through! He needed to be ready to play in 20 minutes. The rest unfolded like a dream.

My friend Ollie Burgess has just made the bold move of quitting his job in Manchester, and moving to London to manage the Young Chelsea Bridge Club. Ollie is a fantastic player, as well as being popular and dynamic — exactly what’s needed. The YC is much loved by its members, but its numbers have been dwindling in recent years. It would be a huge shame if it ever closed, not just because it attracts such a high standard of player, but also because it has a long and rich history. It first opened its doors in 1968, and for decades enjoyed a reputation as the best and most exciting club in the country. The stars of the game would flock there, and stay long into the night.