It was the best hand I’d had all year — and what’s more, I picked it up while playing rubber bridge for money at TGRs. The pound signs flashed before my eyes: there was no way I was stopping short of game, and the merest squeak from my partner would get me slamming. Well, you can guess what happened next: the bridge gods were having a laugh. In a few short minutes the hand turned to ash. Not only did I go down, cursing my bad luck, but one of my opponents happened to be the brilliant Thor Erik Hoftaniska, whose sharp analytical brain was able to point out almost instantly that I could in fact have made it. I was South:
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