And then the fat lady sang

Some people are just born to sing Wagner

Played bridge all day today; a single match of 64 boards.  This is the Grand National Teams, flight A.  They changed the rules this year, allowing players with up to 6000 points, the field is littered with good players who had too many points to play last year.

There are 17 teams, who will play head up matches until only one remains, and that team wins a trip to the summer NABC.  As opposed to club bridge, this is the serious big-boy variety of the game.

We started off lousy, losing 37 imps in the first quarter and 41 more in the second, so we went out to dinner 78 in the hole.  In truth, I expected to just play out the evening hands politely, accept our loss and go out with Gail on Sunday.  Since dinner was a bowl of Pho in a cheap Vietnamese joint we found on the street in Burlingame, there wasn’t much to look forward to in the food department, either.

Instead, we were as good in the evening as we had been bad in the afternoon, and made up the entire 78 imps and 3 more, to win the match and live to play another day.

Snatching victory from the slavering jaws of defeat is always sweet.  All that high school coach stuff about not quitting, not giving up, fighting to the very bitter end, turns out to be true.  The opera ain’t over until the fat lady sings, and she was singing pretty sweetly tonight.

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