The Theory and Practice of Gamesmanship

by Stephen Potter

  Note. Attention to detail is important here, and may lead to results of even wider value. It is possible to weaken your opponent’s attack even in a straightforward single, if you can show sufficient parallelism of tastes and interests. Groundwork includes the preliminary hunting out of the pursuits or hobbies most favoured by the opponent to whom you want to reveal the possession of those common interests which may well be, you will wish him to feel, the basis of a lasting friendship. And – one tip – Don’t Rush. Slow and steady wins this race. Or, as I always tell them: ‘Keep off Tintoretto till the tenth!’1

  In the forefront, then, of secondary ploys, remember: Study the interests and taste of your opponent. For

  The Good Gamesman is the Good Friend

  Caddie Play

  The old rule still holds, ‘Be nice to your caddie and the game will be nice to you’. Demonstrate, always, that caddies instinctively like you and respect you more than they respect or even notice your opponent. Play to the caddie. Ask his advice. Create a pleasant caddie-liaison, and, when you whisperingly ask your opponent, in the neighbourhood of the sixteenth hole, what he proposes to offer as a tip, let your reply to his suggestion be: ‘What – do you mean two shillings as a total tip? Oh, I think we ought to give a little more than that.’ For remember that

  The Good Gamesman is Generous

  Note. Though this small ploy may work well against a diffident man playing on a strange course, it is sometimes advisable to say: ‘Oh, I don’t think we ought to give them as much as that, you know. Members don’t like it, you know. Do you remember when that Argentine Film Company was down here, flinging their money about? I’m not sure they weren’t asked to leave the club. Of course, I see the Committee’s point, in a way …’ For remember that

  The Good Gamesman is the Good Clubman

  An Isolated Instance

  While these papers were still in the proof stage I was beaten in a certain golf match. I have not time to discuss the matter in full. I do not even know whether it comes in the province of gamesmanship. The incident was absurdly simple – almost comic. At the first hole, my opponent, D. Low, of Golders Green, drove into the edge of the rough. On reaching his ball, before playing it he picked it up and placed it in the fairway, saying, ‘I always do that. Do you mind?’ Thinking that he intended not to play the hole at all – that his intention was perhaps to accompany me largely as a spectator – I laughed heartily, said, ‘Of course not,’ and settled down to a practice knockabout. Imagine my amazement when he proceeded thenceforward to play seriously and without further infringement. In my own mind the game was null and void from the beginning. But that did not prevent Low from presuming, indeed from saying, that he had in fact won.

  Is this gamesmanship? And if so, what is the counter?

  Simpson’s statue

  I have been asked to give an exact explanation of a phrase used by many young gamesmen who do not, I fancy, properly know the meaning of the term, much less its origin.

  Fig. 10. Simpson’s Statue: the billiards position.

  I refer to the phrase ‘Simpson’s Statue’, a simple gambit often used in croquet or snooker, but as it has its origin in golf, I place it here. R. Simpson had the idea of standing in the ‘wrong place’ while his opponent was playing his shot – beyond the line of the putt in golf (or the pot in billiards). Or in the ‘wicket-keeper’s position’ during a golf shot off the fairway (or, in bowls, simply standing in the way). Having elicited a remonstrance, Simpson then proceeded, before every subsequent shot, not only in that game but in all subsequent matches against the same opponent, to remember that he was in the wrong position more or less at the last moment, leap into the correct position with exaggerated agility, and stand rigidly still with head bowed. (See Figs. 10 and 11.)Simpson, the originator of this ploy, used sometimes to increase its irritating effect by resting his club or cue head downwards on his boot, facetiously, in the ‘reversed arms’ position. A simple but good gambit. And remember, to make it effective, repeat it again and again and again.

  Fig. 11. Advanced Simpson’s Statue: the golf position, with ‘reversed arms’ irritant.

  Billiards and Snooker

  Although the close proximity of the players makes the billiard table almost as important to gamesmen as the golf-course, I have little to add to the much we have learned from this game. If snooker is inextricably bound up with gamesmanship, billiards is no less important. The ardent snooker gamesman plays billiards in order that he can say that ‘billiards is his real game’. There are the long periods, at billiards, during which no score is made. Its ancient history, and dignified aroma of cigars and professional markers, adapt the game perfectly to this purpose. It is useful for the snooker gamesman to be in a position constantly to remind his snooker opponent that ‘billiards is the game’, also, that ‘billiards is the best practice for snooker’, and that he ‘will never improve his potting game until he has mastered the half-ball in-off at billiards’.

  Snooker-Player’s Drivel

  I strongly recommend Rushington’s one-and-sixpenny brochure on Snooker-talk Without Tears. This booklet contains full vocabularies of the drivellingly facetious language which has been found to be equally suitable to billiards and snooker, including a phonetic representation of such sounds as the imitation of the drawing of a cork, for use whenever the opponent’s ball goes into the pocket. This is a most useful ploy against good billiard players of the older generation, who believe in correct manners and meticulous etiquette in the billiard room, I often saw Rushington at work in the good old days before the war. His masterpiece, I always thought, was never to say ‘five’, ‘eight’, etc., after scoring five, or eight, etc., but always ‘five skins’, ‘eight skins’, etc.

  Remind students, here, that The Gamesman is Famous for his Sense of Fun.

  Squash Rackets

  Unlike golf and billiards, squash is very far from being a gamesman’s paradise. Most of the gamesman’s work must be done beforehand, in the dressing-room or at the luncheon table. There is far too much ordinary play in this game, with all its dangers of physical distress, so fatal to the well-timed thrust of the gamesman. To counteract this disadvantage I always bring with me an old and even slightly punctured ball which I refer to as the ‘new, specially slow ball, recently authorized’; and I add that it is in general use now because ‘otherwise the rallies would never end’. If losing, stress inferiority of squash to rackets, which, in turn, of course, is so inferior to tennis. Thus, the sequence of talk runs as follows: ‘I was playing tennis at Lord’s yesterday. This game’s all right, but you know, after tennis, squash seems – well – you do feel rather like a squirrel running about in a cage, don’t you?’

  Bridge and Poker

  Miss Violet Watkins – name of ill-omen in gamesmanship circles on the Welsh border – has said that ‘Gamesmanship can play little part in bridge and poker, which are themselves games of bluff.’

  The association of the word ‘bluff with gamesmanship does small service to the art. True, there is a difficulty with poker. There are those who believe that the sole duty of the poker gamesman is to build up his reputation for impenetrability and toughness by suggesting that he last played poker by the light of a moon made more brilliant by the snows of the Yukon, and that his opponents were two white slave traffickers, a ticket-of-leave man and a deserter from the Foreign Legion. To me this is ridiculously far-fetched, but I do believe that a trace of American accent – West Coast – casts a small shadow of apprehension over the minds of English players.

  Bridge, up to 1935, was virgin ground for the gamesman, but every month – owing largely I believe to the splendid work of Meynell – new areas of the game are being brought within his field. I will name one or two of the principal foci of research, in the new but growing world of bridgemanship.

  Intimidation

  We are working now on methods by which the gamesman can best suggest that he usually moves in bridge circles far more advanced than the one in which
he is playing at the moment. This is sometimes difficult for the mediocre player, but a primary gamescover of his more obvious mistakes is the frank statement, with apologies, that the rough and ready methods of this ordinary kind of bridge, played as it is for amusingly low stakes, are constantly putting him off. ‘Idiotic. I was thinking I was playing duplicate.’ Refer to the ‘damnably complicated techniques’ with which matchplay is hedged around. During the post-mortem period after each hand, give advice to your opponents immediately, before anyone else has spoken about the general run of the play. Tell the opponent on your left that ‘you saw her signalling with her third discard’. At first she will not realize that you are speaking to her, then she will not know what you are talking about, and will almost certainly agree. Invent ‘infringements’ committed by your opponents in bidding, tell them that ‘it’s quite all right – doesn’t matter – but in a match it would be up to me to ask you to be silent for three rounds. Then if your partner redoubles, my original bid resumes its validity.’ Refer frequently to authorities. Mention the Portland Club and say ‘I expect you’ve only got the 1939 edition of the rules. Would you care to see the new thing I’ve got here? “For Members only”?’ Never say ‘It doesn’t matter in the least what you throw away because I am leading this card at random anyhow.’ Refer to some formula in the Silver Book of End-play Squeezes.

  It is usual, as part of intimidation play, to invent a convention (if playing with a fellow-gamesman as partner). Explain the convention to your opponents, of course, e.g.:

  GAMESMAN: Forcing two and Blackwood’s, partner? Right? And Gardiner’s as well? O.K.

  LAYMAN: What’s Gardiner’s?

  GAMESMAN: Gardiner’s – oh, simply this. Sometimes comes in useful. If you call seven diamonds or seven clubs and then one of us doubles without having previously called no trumps, then the doubler is telling his partner, really, that in his hand are the seven to Queen, inclusive, of the next highest suit.

  LAYMAN: I think I see.…

  GAMESMAN: The situation doesn’t arise very often as a matter of fact.

  The fact that the situation does not arise more often than once in fifty years prevents any possible misunderstanding with your partner.

  This phase of Intimidation Play is often called ‘Conventionist’ or ‘Conventionistical’.

  Two Simple Bridge Exercises for Beginners

  (a) The Deal. Better than ten books on the theory of bridge are the ten minutes a day spent in practising how to deal. A startlingly practised-looking deal has a hypnotic effect on opponents, and many’s the time E. Hooper has won the rubber by his ‘spiral whirl’ type of dealing. A good deal of medical argument has revolved round this subject. ‘Hooper’s deal’ is actually said to have a pulverizing effect on the Balakieff layer of the cortex. Myself, I take this cum grano salis.

  (b) Meynell’s Mis-Deal. This is, in essence, the counter-game to intimidation play. Against a pair of opponents who know each other’s game very well indeed, who have played together for years, and who pride themselves on the mechanical and unhesitating accuracy of their bidding, it is sometimes a good thing to make a mis-deal deliberately (so that your partner has fourteen and yourself twelve, say; or the disparity may be even greater – see Fig. 12). Then pick up the cards and begin a wild and irrational bidding sequence. This will end, of course, in a double from E. or W. As you begin to play the hand, discover the discrepancy in cards. The hand is then, of course, a wash-out. Your opponents will (a) be made to look foolish, (b) be annoyed at missing an easy double, (c) be unable to form a working judgement of your bidding form.

  Split Bridge

  The old splitting game in golf foursomes has already been described. Of late years – it is, in fact, the most recent development in bridge – we have seen the adaptation of splitting, and the re-shaping of it, for the junior game.

  The art of splitting, in bridge, is, quite simply, the art of sowing discord between your two opponents (East and West).

  There is only one rule: Begin early.

  The first time the gamesman (South) makes his contract, the situation must be developed as follows:

  Gamesman (South): Yes, just got the three. But I was rather lucky (lowering voice to a clear whisper as he speaks to East) … as a matter of fact your heart lead suited me rather well. I think … perhaps … if you’d led … well, almost anything else.…

  Ten to one West will seize this first opportunity of criticizing his partner and agree with Gamesman’s polite implications of error. The seed of disagreement is sown. (Particularly if East had in fact led a heart correctly, or had not led one at all.) At the same time the gamesman’s motto Modesty and Sportsmanship is finely upheld. It is never his skill, but ‘an unlucky slip by his opponent’, which wins the trick.

  Fig. 12. Bridge hand. Distribution after typical Meynell mis-deal.

  Lawn Tennis

  The principal lawn tennis ploys have already been discussed. I should like to add here one word more of general advice. If there is one thing I hate to see on the lawn tennis court, it is sloppy gamesmanship. And much more attention should be paid, I think, particularly to the following evolutions:

  (1) How to pass opponent when changing ends, particularly the choice of the right moment to stand elaborately aside in order to allow your female opponent, in a mixed doubles, to come through first: and equally when to allow her the minimum room for getting by.

  (2) When to make a great show of encouraging your partner, and say ‘Good shot’, whenever she gets the ball back over the net.

  (3) How to apologize for lobbing into the sun.

  (4) When to get the scoring wrong (always, of course, in your opponent’s favour).

  Note. I have already referred to Farjeon’s use of asymmetrical lengths, slopes, and grass surfaces of his lawn tennis court at Forest Hill. It has been said of Farjeon that he raised lawn tennis to the status of a Home Game. It was after association with Farjeon that I began that development of Home Croquet which has placed it so far ahead of the championship game. Major West, of Gamesman Accessories Ltd, where Gamesman Accessories may be obtained, has constructed an artificial hawthorn tree for asymmetrical insertion into the normal croquet lawn: Illustrated in Fig. 13 is Major West’s ‘Baskerville’ lawn tennis lawn-marker for home courts. This reliable machine imparts the standard ‘3' wave’ to lines even on the most level lawns.

  Fig. 13. The Baskerville Lawn Tennis Lawn-Marker for imparting asymmetry to home courts (see text).

  Home Games

  There are a variety of odd local games, and games developed in the home – ‘roof-games’, ‘tishy-toshy’, etc. Unorthodox games, like billiards fives, or boule – the game of bowls played with metal balls.

  All these need careful gamesmanship, and are admirably adapted to a wide variety of ploys.

  The player on the home court stands at a tremendous advantage, specially if he has invented the rules of the game. He must rub this advantage in by every method at his command.

  Terminologics

  To counteract any suggestions that the game is ‘silly’, he should create an atmosphere of historical importance round it. He should suggest its universality, the honour in which it is held abroad. He should enlarge on the ancient pageantry in which the origin of the game is vested, speak of curious old methods of scoring, etc.

  Meynell uses the word ‘terminologics’ to describe the very complete language we have built round the game of boule (which in our game consists of rolling old bits of brass into a cracked gutter).

  Note to Teachers. It is most important that the student should develop methods of his own. Encourage originality. But perhaps teachers may be helped by seeing this specimen of a ‘correspondence’ which ‘passed’ between Meynell and myself. This we incorporated in a privately printed pamphlet English Boule which we leave about in the bath-rooms, etc., of the boule court house. The specimen may suggest, at any rate, a general approach.

  Dear Meynell,

  I forgot, whe
n I was writing to advise you on the financial matter, to say that I had checked up on the point you mentioned, and it is not uninteresting to note that the expression bowels (i.e., boules) of compassion ‘first used in 1374’ has no connexion with the ancient etiquette, recently revived as we know, according to which the gouttie–étranger (the gut-stranger, or guest player new to the boule ‘carpet’) is supposed to allow his host to win the ‘bully-up’, or first rubber sequence. The term, of course, acquired its modern use much later in connexion with the boule game which the Duke of Rutland played for a wager against Henry, son of Shakespeare’s ‘old Gaunt, time-honoured Lancaster’ at Hove Castle in 1381, beating him on the last throw with a half-pansy, and dubbing his victim ‘Bouling-broke’, an amusing nickname which, spoken in jest, became as we know the patronymic of the Dukes of Lancaster.

  Yours,

  ‘My Man over the Hill’