In the meantime, while his opponent was throwing the ?safe? 3 of diamonds, he may have been sitting with two 4s and a 6. If my teacher had thrown that wild 5 it might have enabled his opponent to go gin. So my teacher was actually accomplishing three things simultaneously: He was preventing the other player from filling his hand, possibly keeping him from winning the hand, and prolonging the game while he gave himself a chance to improve bis own hand to the winning point.



Another lesson I learned was this: I might have three completed melds in my hand (4-5-6 of spades, 3-4-5 of diamonds, 3 Aces) and an odd deuce. We're three-quarters of the way down the deck. My opponent knows what I've got and I know what he's got. I know that my odd deuce is a layoff on one of his melds, and that his odd card is a layoff on one of mine. If I knock I'm going to get undercut, and if he knocks he's going to get a dose of the same medicine.

So what I'd have to do?depending on what the knock card was'is to break up one of my melds. In this case, I'd throw one of the Aces?preferably the Ace of diamonds, since I have the 3 of diamonds to protect it.

Let's say I pull in a 3 of clubs on my first draw. In the next two picks I could discard my other two Aces. Meanwhile, the chances are splendid that I would pick up another card to go with the 3 of clubs. I can still make gin in a different way, or at least end up with a solid hand. Mainly, though, I'm protecting my hand.

I gained the valuable knowledge that the man whose play I was studying would rather make a hand go ail the way down the deck than take the chance of throwing a wild card and losing the game.

My thinking became revolutionized. Until my nightly lessons started behind bus chair, I was certain I knew the game. Now the errors in my pre vious thinking stood out boldly. From my kibitzer position I hardly dared clear my throat or blow my nose for fear I'd be banished, To be removed was comparable to expulsion from college. That walk to stand behind his chair was to me the same as crossing the Atlantic Ocean to study at Oxford University on a fellowship.

After one month I feet I had gained my diploma, graduating cum laude.

At the conclusion of an evening session, my mentor rose from bus chain, faced me and asked, with a twinkle in his eye, ?Young fellow, are you learning anything??

?Plenty,? I said.

?Can you put into practice what you've learned and stick to it?? he questioned.

?I'm going to try.?

He smiled. ?If you can,I'II finally get some competition around here.?

For me it was the tjme for decision. I feit qualified to compete against any opposition, aithough I stiil had much to learn from experience. But I had to make a choice. I could play for fun, figuring it would cost me some money, or I could play correctly for profit, sticking to percentages.

I made my decision, and within a short time I rose from the amateur to the expert class.

After my tutelage at Parkville ended and I went forth with my G.R. degree in hand, I started to play again, ever mindful of my lessons. On evenings when I didn't have to work the next day I did some marathon playing, sitting down at about 7:00 PM. and continuing straight through until around ten the next morning. In those games there was a flexible time limit. ?We'll quit at eleven,? everybody chorused; and then when that hour arrived and someone was stuck, tiine was discarded?although usuaily the player begging for a time extension to get even proceeded to lose tbree or four times as much.