The USA selectors had spent weeks floundering around trying to put together a team, because so many of their top players were still in hospital...... and various psychiatric clinics. Nevertheless, such is the wealth of bridge talent in the USA, there was still a big enough pool from which the selectors were offered plenty of choice, and several options.
And so a completely fresh new team was formed to take on Bigot's Boys for this all-important New York match, the third in the series. The pre-match build-up was awash with TV interviews and big name celebrity bridge players taking up positions as chat show hosts. Danny " Slow Death " Waters was the one everyone wanted to see because of his amazing ability to suck his opponents into making fatal mistakes. Indeed, as it turned out he became the man of the match by a nautical mile.
However, neither team made any headway in the first two sessions, but then the fortunes of the USA players took an unfortunate dive. Slow Death started to pull out some excellent results. His in-depth analysis was without equal. And while he was riding on a crest of a wave, all his opponents began to " sense " that awful sinking feeling, as if they were slowly but surely being pulled to the bottom. The pressure he was putting them under caused most to experience the bends...... others were being sent round them. All this defeatism was becoming too hard to swallow.
Elsewhere in the room, the tide had also turned against the Americans. Their precise bidding was replaced by ponderous indecision. " A " rated players were playing well below " C " level. Their vu-graph supporters were drowning in disbelief and despair. The early ebb and flow of the match was just a distant memory as the whole sorry affair was fast becoming an embarrassing whitewash for the USA team. The current form of The Boys was irrepressible......leaving the USA selectors at crisis point. How could this dreadful man, Bigot-Johnson, be allowed to achieve so much success at the expense of such great players....who have clearly found it easier getting into ACBL's Hall of Fame than beating this rag bag outfit from over the seas.
Not surprisingly, BIgot-Johnson suddenly surfaced at the end of the match to take the trophy, and of course all the prize money that had been generously donated by the New York mayor. Bigot, it seemed, had spent the whole time floating around in bar, trying to tap whoever was there for a free drink. Like Danny, he has always been a master in the art of pulling strokes.