About Average Joe and Average Jane
Some bridge players take the game quite seriously, and some attend the club more for its social aspects, while others might be there just to pass the time of day. All players are creatures of habit; and the less skilled ones can be counted on to do their normal things day in and day out, hand after hand.
We love Average Jane and Average Joe, of course; for there would be no bridge club without them. Ours is a mental game, however; and savvy declarers are fully entitled to capitalize upon A.J.'s foibles in order to rake in extra tricks.
ASSUME THAT A.J. IS FALSE-CARDING
Perhaps the bridge player's most destructive habitual behavior is a
proclivity for automatic false-carding. Obviously this is an
utter waste of effort; for not only does A.J. give himself away by this inane
maneuver, but much of the time the only one to be fooled is his partner.
queenand
jackof a suit, if A.J. plays the
jackon the first lead, assume that it is a singleton; it nearly always will be.
When holding QJ
doubleton and declarer is leading the suit,
A.J. invariably follows with the queen
first. The same applies to
J10
doubleton and KQ
doubleton.
Similarly, if you take a finesse toward an AJ10
combination and A.J. wins the queen
, assume that the king
is onside;
it nearly always will be.
When following suit third-hand, A.J. still plays the higher of equal honors
most of the time. How and where these folk have gotten the notion that
such routine false-carding is a good strategy is one of life's great
mysteries; yet it is so ingrained in their natures that most probably never
will change their ways — even after reading this page!
ninefrom
9-7
eightalready has been played by someone else.
Note: As declarer, A.J. tends not to squander values or play much of
anything out of order. She doesn't play games with her spot-cards;
when she ruffs in with the high trump, you can bet that it's her last one.
ASSUME THAT A.J. WILL GRAB MOST OPPORTUNITIES TO WIN A TRICK
If you lead toward a suit headed by the K-J
early in the hand,
A.J. nearly always will grab the ace
to your left if he has it.
Having not yet made the effort to consider what card he will play when that suit
is led, he is leery of possibly losing a trick, and probably has given himself
away by a hesitation in any case. The sooner you lead that suit, the better.
Similarly, a suit combination of Qxx
opposite Kxx
tends not to be worth two tricks — that is, unless A.J. leads
it. Often as not, her partner will grab the ace
, having not considered
the entire position. If you must lead the suit yourself, tend not to lead an
honor; lead toward one instead. The ace
might pop up for you.
ASSUME THAT A.J. IS NOT COUNTING MUCH OF ANYTHING
As you might well know, when a Prius comes to a stop, such as at a
traffic signal, engine activity temporarily ceases (or seems to), awaiting
a further call to action from a press of the accelerator pedal. Most
Average Joes and Average Janes own such a vehicle, or so it would seem from
their behavior at the table; for they suffer from what I call the
Prius Syndrome. During the play, when declarer is
considering what to do next, A.J.'s brain frequently stops spinning.
Seemingly having nothing to think about, he sits there in a semi-dormant
state, awaiting his own call to action — namely, his next
turn to play a card.
The point is not that A.J. is good at impersonating a zombie, but that
he is not doing his job of counting those things that might help him with
the subsequent defense. Even if he were to try, his partner might
already have false-carded him once or twice, his awareness of
played spot-cards has dimmed, and the partnership's carding rapport
may have expired with the first discard.
As declarer, you can be comfortable with the probability that A.J. has not counted either your points or your distribution. Should he obtain the lead, he invariably will cash any available winner, right or wrong; otherwise, he will just be pushing cards to the end.