One of the constants in my oldster life has been my weekly bridge game. This one is at the Senior Center, far from the tournaments or other more vigorous battlefields. Even so, the complicated pull of competition remains strong.
Is it possible to engage in “friendly” competition? Or, does the urge to win insist that we descend into, at best grumpy, and at worst uncivil rants? Since bridge requires you to have a partner, the “relationship” issues are endless. (“No, no, no, didn’t you see that the queen on the board was good!)
One of my favorite gossip fests is when we recount tales of outrageous acts and unsavory characters as we shuffle and deal the cards waiting to being play. (I never understood the cheaters but I am naive that way.)
I am lucky. My partner is an expert player who puts up with my negligent ways. We’ve become very good friends. It’s a comfort to know that there is one man with whom it seems to work.
So, I’ll keep playing and hope for Aces.
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