Some of you may have met Colin by now. He’s attended two European tournaments and his mahjong is going from strength to strength. I’d like to claim that it’s all because of his brilliant teacher (me). But I can’t… Anyway, he’s agreed to write some words for RM.com. Please make him feel welcome. – Gemma

3 Hands That Will Ruin Your Day

You’re in the back half of the South Round, and the end is edging its way towards you. The tension is so thick, you could cut a slice and take it home as a souvenir.
Maybe you’re already winning and you just want to further destroy everyone around you.
Maybe you’re not doing so well and just want to scramble away from dead last.
Then it comes. The One True Hand™. You know what I mean. The kind of hand where, rightfully, time should stop and the tiles should start sparkling. The planets have aligned, baby, and they’re pointing right at you.
This is the point where a sensible player stops, sits back, centres themselves on their strategy, and decides to play it safe. You’re in the home stretch, why risk putting your entire game down the toilet?
That’s what a sensible player would do, anyway. But hey, the one thing every mahjong player knows is that sensible is boring.
Let’s rock this karma.

…

…

And then, it all goes pear-shaped. And how.

Here are just some of the wonderful ways a good hand can go south. Tick them off as you go along, because we’ve all been there.

#1: The Noob Mistake

This is my favourite, and easily the most embarrassing.
Once you’re in the One True Hand™ high, rules just go out the window. Common sense? Gone. All that exists is you and the hand.
Let me pull an example from my sordid past, and lay my shame out to the world.
I’m at a national tournament, and doing remarkably badly. I’ve given up all hope of top ten, and my goal is basically just to struggle out of the bottom ten.
Table 6, South Round, third hand.
Deal, deal, deal, WHAT. Is this- is it really- WHAT.
Three of one dragon, two each of another. Three big whopping dragons, waiting for my summons.
You’re on, karma.
…
It’s only a few turns before I’m ready and waiting on that last beautiful dragon.
I reach.
…
The player to my right drops the last one. Reach, ippatsu, three big dragons? Yes please.
(Yes, I know it’s a limit hand. I told you I was fragile.)
“Ron!” I cry.
The other calmly replies, “Oh, that is indeed a lovely hand. If only you hadn’t reached after you opened it.”
“…”

And now you know. The only thing worse than a stupid penalty is a stupid penalty where you mess up a limit hand.

#2: The Threat

It’s the third turn of the hand. You’re ready, your One True Hand™ is winking at you from the table and your wait is delicious.
Smoothly and calmly, you place your tile out sideways. “Reach.”
You look at the other players. They look at you.
With one languid gaze, you’ve let everyone know that you’ve just brought it. It’s on. You’ve released the hounds and the chase is on.

The next tiles come out. None of them are what you want. Fine, you have a whole round to claim your prize. No rush.
Now, there are three ways this can go:

1. Your tile arrives. You scream “Ron!” or “Tsumo!”, dance around for a bit and custard pie the other players. I hope you have a good imagination, because this is not going to happen.
2. You wait. And wait. And wait some more. Your tile does not come. Not even a hint of it. Either another player is hoarding your winning tile (the jammy git probably has a quad of it) or, against all logic, they’re all sitting in the dead wall. Regardless, you hit stalemate, claim your meagre winnings and rage at the unfairness of it all.
3. Another turn barely passes before you hear the one word that brings it all tumbling down: “Ron.” You look at the caller. They look at you. With one gaze, you know that while you might have brought it, they’ve brought it with interest. Good luck ever getting your ego back after this.

#3: My Precious

…or, alternatively, “If at first you don’t succeed, wait a bit longer.”
I hold that this is the most common pitfall to strike any mahjong player.  Sometimes you just do not want to let go of a good thing.
Thousands of years ago, when the great Elders of Mahjong convened and devised this most sacred of pastimes, they also introduced a mechanism we know today as Sod’s Law.
The law basically goes as follows: “No matter what the situation is, fate will always be there to headbutt you and steal your shoes.”
In my experience, this is most frequent when I get presented with an opportunity to chase down the rarest hand of all: 13 Orphans.
(Incidentally, this is my One True Hand™. Now you know why I never win.)
Situation
You’re dealt a hand with a good 9-10 terminals/honours. You have every right to call a re-deal. Do you do it? Of course you don’t, silly, you go for gold.

Possible outcomes

1. Your remaining tiles make their way into your hand. You scream “Ron!” or “Tsumo!”, everyone around looks at your hand in shock, horror and awe, and faints. Just like in #2, this is not going to happen. Sorry.

2. You remain strong, you stick with it, you do not waver. Either you go to stalemate, or someone wins off the juicy inside tiles you’re casting away.
3. You bottle out early on and start dropping your tiles in hopes of at least an outside hand. As soon as you do this, the honours and terminals start strolling into your hand. Exactly the ones you needed and more. Alas, it’s a pity you’re in Furiten.

This is Sod’s Law in action.
Lesson: Never trust fate unless you’re a superhero. Always be ready to abandon your hand.
(Don’t worry, I know you’ll keep doing this. So will I. You never know.)

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