Well, he asked her, finally. All in one breath, taking advantage of the fact that they were watching side by side, head up, the results of the tournament just ended projected on the giant screen. With his nose in the air, he didn’t have to look at her face. He couldn’t have done otherwise, to overcome that damned shyness, which paralyzed him every time he had the intention to ask her.
“I’m sorry, I can’t,” she replied, without even taking a look at him, as if she were speaking to the light board, which mercilessly reported results, as far as he was concerned, certainly not brilliant.
He had to expect it. After all, the next day was a special date, February 14, Valentine’s Day. And to say that precisely for this reason he had taken courage and asked her. But what did he hope? Probably for that day she was certainly already engaged, even if from what he had known asking around, with much circumspection, she did not have any stable sentimental bond, at least unofficial.
He was so immersed in these thoughts, between the bewildered and the disappointed, that he almost jumped when she continued, always looking at the board in front of her, “Tomorrow afternoon I have an appointment. With a girlfriend of mine” almost she wanted to clarify. Then, she turned and looked at him straight in his eyes, “If you want, we can have the tournament tomorrow night.” He was dumbfounded, so much so that she hurried to add, “But if you can’t, never mind, it will be for another time.” He quickly mumbled something at the billboard address, about the results, he apologized, he didn’t quite understand.
When he emerged from the confused state, he realized that they had already settled for the next evening. Then, she had to run away and there was no time to talk about anything else.
Wait and hope
The evening tournament the next day was about to begin, and he, sitting at the table, looked alternately at the entrance of the room and his cell’s dial, a bit to check the time and a bit in the hope
that it rang. “But did they exchange the phone numbers?” Now that he was thinking about it, it seemed not to.
While the boards and the scores were being distributed, he had lost all hope and had come to the conclusion that maybe he had misunderstood their arrangements, or she had some sudden impediment or, even if painful to recognize that, she had just stood him up.
Hang on, ye of little faith!
She suddenly appeared down the hall. He almost didn’t recognize her, accustomed to seeing her always in jeans and T-shirt with her hair up. She was gorgeous: a red dress just tight, maybe a little too light for that stiff February, and a cascade of blond hair that framed her face and big black eyes, and fell a little messy on her shoulders. He felt guilty, a little for not having had confidence, a little because he had not really thought about it, to wear something elegant, all taken from that appointment too long desired.
At the table
She quickly reached him at the table, apologizing for arriving so late, but he had spent all afternoon with her friend and had barely had time to have a snack and change clothes.
“What do we play?” they wondered almost in unison. He quickly filled out the convention card, waiting, as he went along, for her approval or some suggestion. In the end they transcribed the usual system that played almost all at their Club: five-card majors, four-card Diamonds, Short Clubs, also with only 2 cards and strong Notrump, strong 2 level openings and 2 Clubs forcing manche and ace asking.
A bit “old-fashioned” but it was fine, with the usual conventions for Aces and Kings and a standard Stayman. Everything else “spontaneously” natural, they said laughing.
Destiny favored them, leaving her in South and him in North, to look for each other with the looks and to exchange those few jokes allowed by the short breaks during the board changes.
For the first half of the tournament the boards passed without infamy and praise. Supposedly average hands alternated with some good results and someone else not exciting. She proved to be technically more skilled, but to tell the truth, while trying to keep maximum attention to the game, both were not at all interested in the results. A kind of indecipherable understanding had been established between them, which gradually increased and seemed to become deeper with each hand.
The fateful Board n.14
At their table had arrived a couple who regularly attended the Club and who knew well. He, a very good old-fashioned player, a bit harsh but never arrogant and always willing to give advice and explanations, and she, also an excellent player, his usual partner.
After the ritual pleasantries, just to break the ice he commented: “Here is the board of Valentine’s Day” and looked into her eyes, as if to emphasize.
Love all, it was up to East, the expert, who passed.
She opened 1 Club, alerted, but no one asked for explanations, and he held up:
There was a smell of Slam and perhaps not only a Small Slam.
It was silly to jump, cutting levels, so he preferred to announce 1| West | North | East | South |
| Pass | 1 |
||
| Pass | 1 |
Pass | 2 |
| Pass | 2 |
Pass | 3 |
| Pass | 4NT | Pass | 5 |
| Pass | 5NT | Pass | 6 |
| Pass | 7 |
End |
A lot of things had to work – suits’ split, finesses – and so it had been. Only a trump lead would inexorably condemned the Grand Slam, while any other opening lead would allow gaining it, with the same line of play. Twelve tricks were unbeatable, in addition to Hearts, also in Diamonds or Notrump, but only at Hearts you could make 13 tricks, with an opening lead other than a trump.
Things go as they should
While she was transcribing the result, under a column full of 6 Notrump, he could not forget her amazed and admired look at the same time. The satisfaction of having made that Grand Slam was, however, not even remotely comparable to the emotion that her big black eyes had aroused.
The expert went away, while his partner made some comments about the opening leads, the trumps, the “Grand Slam of Valentine’s Day“.
At the end of the tournament, they didn’t stop to wait for the results. It didn’t matter, however it went, they had already won meeting each other.
The tournament director blocked the expert before he left and asked him about that Grand Slam in Hearts. Why had he not led a trump? It was not like him to make a mistake in those circumstances, although the opening lead he had made was certainly not open to criticism.
The expert looked at her sly with a half-smile between the accomplice and the culprit,”On Valentine’s Day things always go as they should” he answered enigmatic, buttoning his coat and going out with his partner.
And our two heroes?
We find them in the pizzeria just outside the Club. Crowded even at that hour by couples of young and not so young guys intent on swallowing pizzas of all kinds and gobbling beer jars in the uncertain light of romantic candles. Two tables further on were also the expert and his companion, who addressed them a nod of greeting, reciprocated, with the glasses just filled with beer.
Few years have passed since that evening, quite a few, but every February 14 there is always a tournament in which they participate, and then a pizza and a beer by candlelight. Inevitably they come to talk about that hand and the unexpected help, convinced by now that it was not a “mistake” that had allowed them to achieve their extraordinary, unforgettable “Grand Slam of Valentine’s Day”.
Ah, I forgot, I didn’t tell you their names: Valentina and Valentino, of course.
If I had told you at the beginning, you wouldn’t have taken me seriously.
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