Bridge An uttered disaster

I was in the club lounge when a kibitzer came in from the penny game.

“You have to go watch,” he said. “Louie and Grapefruit cut as partners.”

Grapefruit, our member with a manner like a disobliging steamroller, badgers his partners unmercifully. Unlucky Louie, the first-born son of misfortune, blames his bad results on bad luck.

The partnership (using the term generously) survived three deals, but then came today’s. When South opened one spade, Louie stuck out his neck to overcall 1NT. I can’t explain North’s leap to six spades, unless he relied on Louie’s knack for doing the wrong thing.

After two passes, Louie doubled firmly. He then led ... the ace of hearts.

Declarer ruffed in dummy and led the king of clubs. When Grapefruit petulantly played the ace, South ruffed, discarded dummy’s diamond on the king of hearts and led the king of trumps. Louie’s ace won, and South claimed for plus 1,660.

Grapefruit was speechless. I was afraid he would produce a blunt instrument and use it to assault poor Louie. But Grapefruit finally snarled that Louie was depriving some village of its idiot.

“You wouldn’t double six spades with three aces?” Louie asked with a glare.

“Not unless I was going to score at least two of them,” Grapefruit roared. He told the kibitzers that if brains were trees, Louie’s would be a twig.

Louie’s opening lead was uninspired. He could avoid disaster by leading the ace of trumps to see dummy. Then he would know which red ace to cash next. South dealer Both sides vulnerable