Bridge

“Men are like horoscopes,” Wendy, my club’s feminist, complained to me. “They’re always telling you what to do, and they’re usually wrong.”

“I take it Cy let you down on defense,” I said.

Cy the Cynic, a shameless chauvinist, and Wendy are adversaries even when they cut as partners in our penny games.

Wendy displayed today’s deal. “I was West, Cy was East. I led a spade against the slam, and the Cynic knew enough to play the jack. He knew South had the ace but could find out who had the queen.

“South won with the queen,” Wendy went on, “and could have tried a parlay by taking the ace of trumps. If the king didn’t fall, he could try for a heart discard on the diamonds. Instead, he let the queen of trumps ride at Trick Two.

“Cy won,” Wendy said, “and returned . . . a diamond: ten, jack, queen. South then took the ace of spades, ruffed his last spade in dummy and ran his trumps. I was squeezed: I couldn’t save my ace of hearts and guard the diamonds, so South made six clubs.” “Too bad,” I said. “You haven’t heard the worst of it,” Wendy growled. “Cy said it was my fault. He said I should have led the ace of hearts.”

Wendy might have led her ace against the slam, but the fault lay with Cy (not with his stars). Cy knows that South has eight tricks: at most five trumps in his hand, two spades and a spade ruff in dummy. If South has the ace of hearts, he still has only 11 tricks, but if he has the ace of diamonds, he may have 12. Cy must lead a heart when he takes the king of trumps.