I've been a professional bridge player for over 30 years, and editor of “Bridge Today.” I wear a Kipa on my head, but my peers have come to accept my religious transition.

Bridge tournaments are often held in hotels, usually for 10 days, which obviously includes a Shabbat. So I invite to my room Jewish Bridge friends, many of whom never before experienced a Shabbat, for Friday night candle lighting and the reciting and drinking of Kiddush.

I repeatedly invited my friend Larry Cohen (of America’s best players) for Kiddush, but he respectfully declined, saying he hated Hebrew school and wanted no part of Judaism.

This March at the American National Bridge Tournament in Reno, Nevada, Larry’s room happened to be next to mine. When he found himself in my room by chance just before sundown, Larry decided to stay and watch the candle lighting “just this one time.” His bridge partner, David Berkowitz (my Kiddush regular), was also there. Gail Greenberg, a world-champion from New York, did the candle lighting (her first), and Larry answered “Amen,” adding, “I'm leaving now, but if we win the Open Pairs this weekend, I'll return next week for kiddush!”

Cohen and Berkowitz did win the Open Pairs (which is difficult but not a miracle, since they’ve done it before) so, true to his word, Larry returned the following Friday night. Larry, who just turned 45, made the first kiddush of his life (in English), and then, after his small miracle the week before, said, “If we win tonight's semifinal in the Vanderbilt Teams, I'll wear your black hat at the final. But it’ll take a real miracle, because we're losing by 53 points!”

Not only that, but Larry's team was up against the most successful team in bridge - a team that had won many world championships. For his team to make a 53 point comeback, it would be like a baseball team winning in the ninth inning after being down by nine runs.

After kiddush, I invited Larry for a corn-beef sandwich on challah after his semifinal match, win or lose, but I didn't really expect him to return, because his match would not be over until about 1 am.

After Shabbos, I went downstairs to find out the results. Lo and behold, Larry's team tied the match with a miracle fourth quarter comeback, and then went on to win the match in overtime at 3 am! No wonder he didn't come back for the sandwich.

The news was headlined in the tournament bulletin as a “miracle.” Nevertheless, my black hat was still on my head, not his - why didn't Larry return to borrow my hat for the Final match?

I found out that Larry had told his Kiddush story to his team captain, and asked permission to wear the hat in the Final, but the captain refused. He told Larry, “Don't change our karma.” (The team captain didn't realize that the “karma” came from the Kiddush!)

So what happened in the Final match? You guessed it. Cohen's team lost.

When I saw Larry late Saturday night, he said he was sorry he didn't wear the hat, so I offered him a pocket Traveler’s Prayer, which he put in his wallet. I suggested that Larry try a few lessons or celebrations at a Florida Chabad house, but that was too much for him. “Perhaps at the next tournament I'll bring along my wife for Kiddush,” he said.