I was told before coming to Oxford that it can be very difficult to avoid the trap of just being friends with the other Americans and not meeting British students. The biggest suggestion people offered to avoid doing so was joining a club or group in Oxford, to get involved, meet people, find something you’re interested in. I tried playing cricket (briefly) and then decided to join bridge club—one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
It’s difficult in life to answer those tricky “what if?”s, but I genuinely do wonder what my life here would be like if I hadn’t joined bridge club. The answer makes me quite sad—but luckily it is merely a “what if.”
I suppose I should start from the fateful beginning. I visited a friend at her school in Oklahoma the week before I left to come to England. Incidentally, her friend taught a group of us how to play bridge, which he had become addicted to when he studied abroad in China (funny, right? It came full circle). I played a few times with my family in my last week at home, and then a friend at Oxford mentioned that she thought there might be a University bridge club here.
Hmmmm, I remember thinking. Would the club be patient with a complete novice like me? Would there be only two or three awkward members looking for more people to join? Or would it be a fun group of eclectic people? I figured I had nothing to lose. If I was intrigued by a game typically thought of as being played by senior-citizens, other relatively normal people might be too, right?
I walked into the group shy, a bit self-conscious, but very pleasantly surprised: the club was composed of thirty-fortyish students, ninety percent guys, most of whom are math and science majors it seems like. Everyone was pretty welcoming, and though I was very, very bad at the game itself, I decided to come back for another week, and another, and another.
I’ll admit the first term of bridge was somewhat overwhelming, a bit uncomfortable in learning so much new information, making so many mistakes, feeling like the worst player ever. At club night every week, people have their regular partners and through playing together often, partners develop a nuanced bidding language, understanding one another’s hands at more advanced levels, making the best contract, playing the game better, winning more tricks, earning more points. Of course, if one or both of the partners is experienced at bridge, that’s a huge help. As a newcomer, I lacked both experience and a regular partner and jumped around to different available people each week.
Gradually I began to understand the game better. I’m still terrible but much more comfortable, learning more week by week. The bridge club members have been incredibly patient in giving me advice, encouraging me to stick with it, making me feel welcome. I feel that bridge overall is undervalued in society: it’s strategic, challenging, very complex so that each game is a learning experience. Luck and skill each play a part, and the game can be very social. We usually play for about three hours, rotating around from table to table to play with different pairs, snacking on biscuits (English lingo for cookies), catching up on one another’s lives, laughing and joking.
I have met some of my very favorite people in my time abroad at bridge club. We usually follow up bridge with going to the college bar and a nearby pub. People admittedly discuss their bridge hands in great detail, making bridge jokes that go over my head; but they also hassle me for being American, put up with my incessant questions about English culture and attempts at an English accent, ask me about my week, make me laugh, and have provided me with some of my best nights in Oxford.
When I go home, finally somewhat acceptable at playing bridge, realistically I probably won’t find another bridge club, my newly-acquired skills will rust, and I’ll lose my much-beloved new hobby. But it really doesn’t matter. I’ll be missing the people I play bridge with much more than the game itself.
No comments:
Post a Comment