Where is my brain? Friday’s scorecard has words like “Revoke” (where I doomed my maybe-makeable 3 NT contract by carelessly discarding a Heart instead of a Club) and on the very next hand, “Think!” (where I should have nailed an extra trick on my 4 Spade contract, but didn’t do the discard). June Feuerstein and I brought home a 36.9% game, my worst since that dismal 35.06% with Ruthie Kozower back on July 26.
Even more unthinkable is my revoke on attending the Individual Game on Saturday at the Airport Bridge Club. I needed an excuse, however flimsy, to go play on a Saturday, and I started out with a perfect one – bringing friend Diana Sachs’ 92-year-old dad, Gerry, out to the game. But then Diana was going to be free to do something with her dad Saturday, so that excuse evaporated.
Except that Paula Salamone needed a ride. Fine. Excuse in place again. Until Paula calls Friday night to say she’ll have her car after all. So, at that point, I should have called club manager Bill Finkelstein to tell him I’d be a no-show. But I didn’t. And Paula didn’t tell him either. So at game time on Saturday, as I’m in the bathroom, an explosive phone call comes. Finkelstein is furious. The Individual Game needs a firm number of players for the set-up. What could I say? I knew better. Just brainless.