Of all the competitions and tournaments available in this country, the one that somehow means the most is the Gold Cup. We have won it twice and the thrill is immeasurable. We have also been knocked out in round one and the worst part was knowing what we would be missing, in terms of matches, for the coming year. The semi-final and final are played over a weekend, and if you make it, the bridge is as good as anything you are going to play in Britain.
This year started quietly. We played. We won. We won a few more and at the weekend we found ourselves playing 64 boards against the formidable Tredinnick team. After eight boards we were up 20 IMPs and after 40 boards we were down 20 IMPs.
Here is Martin Jones, playing with Neil Rosen, bringing home the bacon for his side:
I was West and led the required heart on which my partner, Artur, put the 10 and Martin ducked. For want of a better idea Artur played the Ace and Queen of hearts, Dummy and I throwing Clubs. Declarer needed to set up diamonds, but if East gets in it’s goodnight contract. Martin led a diamond towards dummy and when I played low the Ace won. Martin re-entered his hand to repeat the manoeuvre and again I played low and the King won the trick. I couldn’t duck the third diamond and declarer made his contract. Obviously, if I had played the ♦Q at any earlier point, Martin would have let me hold the trick. Well played, Martin. Not so well played me. As my team did not hesitate to inform me, when East cleared the hearts I should have jettisoned that pesky ♦Q and the contract would have been dead.
What a Muppet — but we got a bit fortunate in the last set (I sat out) and are through to the finals! Whoopee!
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