THE GAME

Cribbage: our winter savior

By Tom O’Sullivan

“Just to let you know, I do cheat,” says Richard Pfeffer before our cribbage match on Monday night at Gritty McDuff’s in the Old Port. Pfeffer, part owner of the pub, was the champion of the inaugural Gritty’s Cribbage Tournament five years ago. He and his partner, Beth, along with 37 other two-person teams, are mixing cards and local brew on a cold night, trying to keep the winter demons at bay. “What else would get 76 people down here on a Monday night?” he asks.

Cribbage is an eccentric game popular in pockets throughout the country. Maine is one such pocket, with its own claims to fame: the American Cribbage Congress named Peter and Ann Gribbin of Portland runners-up in their first ever Mr. and Mrs. Cribbage World competition in 1980. Wisconsin, Montana, and Massachusetts are also hotbeds of cribbage enthusiasts — no coincidence they all share long, dark winters.

“Cribbage on Monday’s and skiing on Wednesday,” remarks Pfeffer, “that’s what gets me through the winter.”

Cribbage was invented in 1632 by Sir John Suckling, an English knight, poet, and, of course, gambler. He combined two existing games, Noddy and One-and-Thirty, to create his quirky card game that is a frustrating mix of skill and luck.

“But you have the same two or three teams at the top every year,” says Pfeffer. The Gritty’s tournament is comprised of a 10-week regular season and two weeks of playoffs. Given that amount of time, skill is able to overcome luck and the cream rises to the top. While everyone wants to win, and it is a “cutthroat” tournament, it is also about maintaining your sanity through the isolation of January.

“It’s a social event,” beams Peter Jankowiak of Portland, a longtime Gritty’s mug holder and a second-year cribbage player. “And it’s a great way to start off the week. I actually look forward to Mondays.”

As our game progresses it becomes clear that Pfeffer’s cheating is limited to buying his opponents pints of stout and shots of tequila in a not-so-veiled attempt to dull our senses. But, as one veteran cribbage duly notes: “I might not be able to stand, but I can still play cribbage.”

After battling through the barrage of Gritty’s potent brew my partner and I managed to beat Pfeffer at his own game. We took two out of three games from the former champion, including a devastating skunk, which gave us twice as many points in the overall standings.

The victory propelled our team to the top of the Gritty’s rankings, a coveted spot in the midst of our long and snow-bound winter.

“That’s it,” Pfeffer concludes. “I’m never buying you two drinks again.”