How To Spot A Bridge Addict

How To Spot A Bridge Addict

Imagine yourself at some social gathering and suddenly the topic of bridge comes up. You don’t know how, but before you know it a person with foam flecking the corners of her mouth is staring into your face with the wide-eyed desperation of a heroin addict in need of a hit, trying to convince you that playing bridge is really, really, really, really, really, really, really, really, fun and that you ought to try it. Now. Really fun. Try it now, right now. The judge, the guests and your bride-to-be can just cool their damned heels for a minute. Really try fun now bridge.

A card table, two other bridge addicts, four chairs, bidding boxes and an endless supply of boards will instantly appear, for all bridge addicts have the cartoon character-like ability to produce these items upon demand from a seemingly normal pant leg. You will be led to your place at the table and the three of them will commence simultaneously to explain to you what each feels are the most important aspects of the game. Once you have received more technical instructions than it takes to assemble a Volvo, the three of them will in unison encourage you to relax and just enjoy yourself because the main thing about bridge is that it’s really, really fun. Really.

Cards pass through your hand and then the first game is over, you guess, because the three of them are chorusing about how much fun they had while inspecting you like a lab animal for signs of addiction. A discussion (‘discussion’ is what bridge addicts call a fight) begins (breaks out) between your opponents. The female of the two complains that her partner did not make the correct uppercut play, whereupon she demonstrates proper uppercut technique by striking his jaw with her fist. A scrum ensues which twists the bridge table into a metallic piece of origami. Your partner, the original bridge addict, manages to separate the two addicts who live in her pant leg and remind them, jerking significant nods towards you, that bridge is really, really fun. The three of them reassemble the bridge table (which now has a permanent wobble) and sit down amid sniffles and threats muttered under the breath, all staring at you with crazed smiles. Time to play another hand. Religious texts refer to your current circumstances as ‘hell’ and suggest that it lasts a very, very long time.

The trouble with spotting a bridge addict and thus avoiding such catastrophe is that they look very much like normal people; that is, very much like people with other, equally severe but less annoying psychological problems. An effort to eradicate them by destroying all books on bridge proved unsuccessful after bridge addicts developed uncanny powers of recall like those rebels in Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451. That dangerous looking guy on the bus with the mad stare and an ominous bulge in his rucksack, with tattoos all over his shaved head, wearing nothing but a vest, army fatigues and boots in the dead of winter? You may try to comfort yourself by pretending he’s merely a psychotic hatchet murderer but the truth is he’s probably a bridge addict and the tattoos are probably Sanskrit for Jacoby Transfers, that portion of bridge lore entrusted to his care.

No, you’re basically on your own when it comes to dealing with these maniacs, which is why it pays to know how to spot one right off and then get while the getting’s good. So imagine yourself at a party that you suspect bridge addicts might attend. Here are a few dead giveaways:

1. Addicts love to segue into a discussion about bridge from totally unrelated topics:

You: “So the pain my chest was really getting bad and then my left arm went numb. I thought I might just be able to drive myself to Emanuel Hospital which is on the east side of the Fremont Bridge – ”

Addict: “Bridge? Do you play? What conventions do you use?”

2. Anytime a finger is run over a stack of papers, mimicking the sound of a deck of cards being shuffled, a bridge addict will exhibit the Pavlovian responses of dilated pupils, profuse sweating and rapid, shallow breathing.

3. Bridge addicts will move in one direction along the buffet table while insisting that dishes be passed along in the opposite direction. They will often launch into cheerful, spontaneous chatter about how they like to make a balanced food plate for themselves but that sometimes it’s nice to have a whole lot of one kind of dish – what they refer to as the ‘long’ dish – and none of another (the ‘void’ dish). They will ask your opinion on this natter with an expression reminiscent of Jack Nicholson in The Shining.

If you notice any of these signs, the first rule is DON’T PANIC! Bridge addicts are well known for their ability to smell fear. However, there is not a moment to lose if you want to get out before it’s too late: Try these techniques:

1. Say to the bridge addict: “You know, I think I heard of a table in Susanville that needs a fourth.” For your own safety, be sure you are not standing in the path to the door when you use this technique. Also, be sure that it is not your car blocking the bridge addict’s as they try to leave.

2. Steer the bridge addict in the direction of a hat rack. Introduce hat rack as a friend who would love to know more about bridge. Quietly slip away. It helps if you’ve already retrieved your hat so you don’t risk disturbing the addict several hours later when you depart.

3. Try this: “Yeah, I have a friend who plays bridge. He said that once he was declarer with a balanced hand, a 3-4 fit and 24 combined points and somehow he made seven spades. How do you figure he did that?”

You don’t have to know what any of these words mean. The effect of them will be to cause the bridge addict to pace back and forth in a corner for hours muttering to herself, her head down and her arms wrapped tightly around her waist. Everyone else at the party will thank you.

4. This is my favorite. Lean nonchalantly against something handy to lean against and intone in a casual voice, “Yeah, I played bridge years ago. Even taught the game for a while. Had this one older guy who was my student who did okay for himself, considering. Fella by the name of Lusky, as I recall. Heard of him?”

This Lusky guy is apparently really, really good at the really, really fun game of bridge, but that doesn’t really matter. What does matter is that the bridge addict will fall to her knees like she’s receiving a visitation from the Angel Gabriel. You now have a slave for life which is really, really handy should you have some yard work that needs to be done.

Also, as the teacher of Lusky, you can now tell the addict anything you want about the game of bridge and even if it flies in the face of everything she knows, she will believe you. For example, tell her that when alerting unusual bids by her partner she should now set down her cards, stand on her chair, scream “Gompers!” at the top of her lungs and then spit on the floor. Take a stroll past the bridge club one evening when she’s playing, I swear she’ll be doing it. Really. In fact, years later, when even she admits that you were putting her on, she will continue to insist that in some strange way following your instructions actually improved her game. But that’s an addict for you.

For my friend Isolde Knaap, the most addicted bridge player I know, on the occasion of her fiftieth birthday.


© Andrew W. Osborn February 18, 2004

Send e-mail anywhere. No map, no compass. Get your Hotmail® account now.