You have to understand Frieda Kenigson. She is one of the sweetest, nicest, most generous little ol' ladies that Long Beach California has ever offered up — except to her bridge opponents.

On this hand, Charles got to be her partner purely by chance. Having recently left the hospital, Charles was still in recovery mode, but not so ill as to be able to suppress bridge withdrawal. So, without a partner, Charles showed up at the club (bandage remnants included). Frieda was the director, and Charles the lone solo. Frieda overcame her pain threshold (seeing it, not feeling it) and partnered the pitiful Charles, no doubt resigned to whatever disasters the mind behind the bandages might unleash.

Faced with a flood of face cards opposite Frieda's Weak Two (unquestionably disciplined) Charles envisioned great things. Could Frieda be blessed with the miracle hand, the K, A and Q? No one knew better than Charles that if she did, and Charles didn't do justice to them, he would spend the rest of the afternoon in Frieda's refrigerator, pain or no pain. Thankfully, North-South were playing the right conventions to find out.

Everyone at the table took Charles's two notrump and Frieda's revelation of the K with barely a bat of the eye. But the leap to 5NT raised three sets of eyebrows. West, the mild mannered Mona, ventured the obvious question, "Frieda, is that The Grand Slam Force?"

With her own patented combination of confidence and bet-hedging in the still-healing Charles, Frieda replied, "Yes, Ma'am." And after only a split second in between, followed up with, "That's what I'm taking it for."

Mona passed and waited for Frieda, aching for validation. Frieda paused, glanced at her cards (no question about what she held), evaluated her partner from behind the cover of her thirteen pasteboards, then with only a slight shrug called out a resigned "7" which Charles converted to 7NT.

After the obligatory three passes, Charles, heady with success and devil-may-care, claimed before Mona could get her opening lead on the table, saying flatly, "Six spades, five diamonds and two Aces."

Frieda lurched forward in her chair to check against disaster (How could she as Director possibly rule against herself?), then started bouncing in her chair. You could see she was dying to tell everyone she knew what she had been part of. But in duplicate, discussing the hands before the end of the session is a strict no-no.

Strangely enough, we were the only pair bidding that contract. Most other Norths had taken the direct leap to Blackwood; and without knowledge of the queen of trumps and the K, had settled for a seemingly safer landing in 6 or 7.

Pointers

1. Some hands must be evaluated for their trick taking power, not their point count. Don't be shy about doing this with a reliable partner.
2. The Grand Slam Force demands that partner bid seven of the agreed-to suit if she holds two of the top three honors in that suit. With any other holding, she must bid six.
3. Skip levels and preempt bidding space as rapidly as possible when the opposition holds the balance of the high card points. Do just the opposite when your side owns them— low and slow, take your time.
4. Ask for or announce only as much information as you need to know about a hand.
5. When partner is a limited hand, you become the Captain. As such, you are expected to set the contract or continue the auction using Rule 4, as needed.
6. A tiny bit of bravado can't hurt once in a great while, but if you're playing with Frieda, you'd better be right.