Wall of Fame

Dr. Mark Lombard began 1999 the idea of a Wall of Fame as a complement to and expansion of the Hall of Fame maintained by the ACBL. The Bridge Club of Center City in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, United States, is the home of the Wall of Fame, which contains contributed features and articles, all voluntary, about the more popular and well-known bridge players as well as several bridge players, who are not as well known. This idea or concept has caught the attention of the contributors, who are regularly published by The Bridge Bulletin, and members of the ACBL. Below is the article written by Mr. Zeke Jabbour.

WINSOME AND LOATHSOME
Tales of the Trail

ZEKE JABBOUR

WHERE HAVE YOU GONE, JOE DIMAGGIO?

Where have all the heroes gone? That question, melodiously posed by Simon and Garfunkel in their 60’s song about Joe Dimaggio, still reverberates today. In the world of bridge, it rings louder and truer than ever. "Unhappy the land that is in need of heroes," wrote the German dramatist Bertolt Brecht. One might assume he was talking about post-war Germany, but he could just as easily have been speaking of the post-Barry Crane world of bridge. Crane is perceived as the most recent of the western hemisphere’s bridge heroes, and although he is not everybody’s hero, indeed, he is probably more legend than hero, it would be a shame if he were to be the last. Bridge has lots of stars , and super-stars, and a few legends, but damn few heroes.

It’s not that we don’t have people with the stuff of heroes. We do. But it isn’t easy to generate heroes in this competitive, ego-driven world. Will Rogers, that great, quintessentially American philosopher, once observed that "we can’t all be heroes, because somebody has to sit on the curb and clap as they go by." And there’s the rub. Bridge players refuse to sit on the curb and clap. They’ve got to get in there and mix-it-up with the big guys. They’ve got to try to get in their licks. The problem is it’s hard to love a super-star (or a bumbling idiot, for that matter) who has just bloodied your nose. You don’t have to hate ‘em; but it’s hard to love ‘em. On the other hand, it’s equally hard to be in awe of someone with 20 or 30 thousand masterpoints that you’ve just whipped in a part-score to the tune of 1100 points.

It is little wonder that they say that familiarity breeds contempt. In heroism, we need to feel that life’s supreme mystery is hidden. Bridge limits that opportunity, and, perhaps, as Emerson once commented, every hero becomes a bore at last.

Yet this amalgam of amateur with expert is an important part of the unique crucible of bridge. Whenever I am offended by the questionable quality of my opponents, whenever I think I shouldn’t have to play against these dummies, I remember the time that they or their counterparts, reached into my chest, tore my heart out, and smashed it on the table. I tell you this game that we play is humbling.

Stars, particularly the insecure ones, along with some players who, though molded from a more common clay, fancy themselves a cut above the frenetic field, will sometimes counter perceived disrespect with arrogance. The only thing more aggravating to the random player than a player of note looking past him or otherwise failing to acknowledge his existence, is another random player pontificating after a success, any success, but especially one borne of unbearably stupid logic. Success, most of us feel, ought to be deserved.

Let me digress for a moment to make a point. Mere victory cannot always be construed as success, even as defeat is not necessarily failure. That’s important:

DEFEAT IS NOT A SYNONYM FOR FAILURE

VICTORY IS NOT A SYNONYM FOR SUCCESS

At least not necessarily.

So where do we start? What is a hero and where ARE all our heroes? A youthful bridge club (mostly under 30) in Philadelphia, under the leadership of an only slightly older professor of dentistry named Mark Lombard, is looking for the answer. Dr. Lombard and his young associates are in the process of creating a "Wall of Fame" which they have domiciled in their club. This wall will display photographs of those, living and dead, who have substantively contributed to the matrix and mystique of bridge together with their words of wisdom and advice. Who knows, this youthful initiative may plant the seeds of the game’s renaissance. I think this group should be encouraged by the League and receive cooperation from those they solicit for inclusion. After all, the mere fact that they have chosen to include you mark them as young people of taste and discrimination, doesn’t it?

Seriously, they have unearthed names that were a surprise to me. I wrote a column last year called "Rich Man, Poor Man" about the many bridge players who have succeeded in other worlds. It included presidents and some of the world’s richest and most powerful men and women. But I had no idea that I should have invoked the saintly name of Gandhi, or ANY saintly name in this devilish game. Nor was I aware that celebrities like tennis legend Martina Navratilova, or award-winning actors like Camryn Manheim and Clint Eastwood, or Supreme Court Justice John Paul Stevens (a life-master!) were among the legions smitten by our present pastime.

I don’t know what criteria are being used to qualify for the "Wall". I’m not even sure that Mark and his cohorts are clear on those criteria. If it’s heroes they want, perhaps they should research the literature to define the term. The great psychologist William James touched on heroism, as have many others. I saw a neat quote by mystery author Raymond Chandler about heroes. He wrote: "Down these mean streets a man must go who is not himself mean, who is neither tarnished nor afraid. He is the hero, he is everything. He must be a complete man and a common man and yet an unusual man. He must be the best man in his world and a good enough man for any world."

Well that blows it for most of us. Maybe they should forget heroes and focus on "contributors" to the game, along with a few legends. That brings us full circle to Barry Crane. Barry clearly is a legend. I know this because his mystique survives 16 or 17 years after his untimely death. I still get inquiries about Crane and his system. So does the Bulletin. In response to just such an inquiry, I will devote the next column or two to Crane, his system, his bridge philosophy, his strengths, his foibles, his fine partners, and how I believe he compares to today’s giants like Soloway, Hamman, Meckwell, Zia and others. I am doing this because of the expressions of interest and because I knew him, played with him on occasion, and happen to write for the Bulletin. And Brent, my relentless editor, told me to do it.

The first thing I will discuss will be what I believe to be the ultimate in one-upmanship: Barry’s ELEVEN commandments. Ten is Standard American.

 

 

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