When a rubber of bridge is in contemplation and after the preliminaries you sit down to play, it is just possible that “your partner” may have his ideas about the game. If you have omitted to ascertain in advance what they are, it will help neither of you in the least if you immediately begin to differ as to leads, discards and signals. Your game will strongly resemble a tug-of-war—both at opposite ends of the rope, instead of at one end pulling conjointly.
It is an invariable custom that the player who cuts the lowest card has the choice of seats and the cards. If “your partner” objects to moving do not advise that he would better change. Very likely his reasons why he should not are quite as urgent as any that you can advance to the contrary, and why interject at the start anything that shall tend to create a slight element of discord.
If you ask “your partner” for advice rest assured of criticism during the remainder of play, whether it be for a rubber or for an evening. It is one thing to consult, quite another to request. The moment that you show subserviency you admit superiority, and there are those who play bridge, and some with little experience or knowledge, who as critics, in their own estimation, are par excellence. Better agree with “your partner” at the start on the common principles that are essential to be observed, and then play with an eloquent silence that will command respect and admiration at the table.
If you pass the make with a weak hand and your partner declares “No-Trumps,” look as cheerful as possible, and make up your mind to do the best that you can with the cards that have been given to you. If you begin by abusing your partner for the make, you practically say that your hand is weak and that the situation is hopeless. That is most valuable information for your adversaries.
Some times “your partner,” sitting behind the dummy hand, has a queer way of waking up just as you are leading a thirteenth card from his hand, and asking you whether you have a card of the suit led, thus distracting your thoughts from the selection of a proper discard.
The partner behind the silent hand, to hasten the play, has no right to touch or suggest the use of a single card from those which lie exposed before him, yet often players find the impulse to push out a card from dummy almost irresistible.
Haste and waste are antitypes in bridge as they are in everything. Playing the hand as if you are in a hurry to catch a train may lend a spectacular appearance to your disposition of the cards, but many a rubber is lost by not stopping to give the situation the careful thought that it demands.
The occupant of the “high chair” usually has a monopoly of giving advice. That kindly and courteous soul who can see it all—and who may know it all, or imagine he does, which amounts to the same thing in this particular case—and who sees no hand played without voicing personal ideas as to the methods used, is a well-meaning adjunct to the game, even if occasionally distressing.
When a player spreads out all the cards of an abandoned spade hand, scrutinizes each with an air of anxious concern, and conjectures as to what might have happened had some other declaration been attempted, it tries everybody at the table. What is done with a hand cannot be undone. All time at bridge should be devoted earnestly to what confronts a player, not to what is of the past.
A penalty of some kind should be exacted from the player who makes a practice of insisting that the dealer has led from the wrong hand. It is very disconcerting and frequently disturbs the one criticized to such an extent as to interrupt the train of thought for the subsequent lead.