Euchre's Life Lessons

The dealer is supposed to shuffle the deck only twice before dealing five cards to each player, in sets of twos and threes. This is to maximize good hands, making the game move faster. The dealer turns one card up and keeps the last three facedown, or “buried.” Players go around clockwise from the dealer and say whether they think they and their partner can win three hands, or “tricks.” If so, the dealer is told to pick up the card, whose suit becomes trump, and has to discard another. If it goes all the way around and the dealer turns down the card, bidding goes around again, and players in turn can pick any suit as trump. There are lots of local variations, with allegedly ancient rules. You can learn in five minutes, but it takes years to master.

As cards are played, you must follow suit, unless you can’t. Then you can play a trump card. Highest card wins. Win three tricks for a point. Win all five for 2 points. If you call trump and fail to win three tricks, the other team gets 2 points and will loudly yell “Euchre!” With a really strong hand, you can tell your partner “I’m going alone” and win 4 points if you get all five tricks—a “Lone Bone.” First team to 10 points wins.

As in life, the rules are pretty simple and mindless, but decent strategy gets you ahead.

In Euchre, there are many unknowns. That’s true of many card games. In poker you learn about others through their body language, their tells. In blackjack, you assume every other card is a 10. But in euchre, because there are only 24 cards, you have to figure out what’s going on by seeing a quarter of the cards. Every time a card is played, you learn more. In cards and in life, especially investing, acting without knowing the whole truth is an art some people, but not many, actually master.

Euchre is also about camaraderie. The best games have lots of banter, not always friendly, and often nonplayers sit around the table to kibitz and heckle. Plus, you need others to achieve your goal. Except in the rare instance of lone bones, you can’t win by yourself. And, like many card games, Euchre requires skill, but also a lot of luck. Doesn’t that sound familiar?

There is even a welfare system. Sometimes you’re dealt only 9s and 10s. In many variations you can declare a Yarborough—some call it a Farmer’s Hand—and then all the cards are thrown in, which is especially infuriating to the poor slob about to call a Lone Bone. Players can keep score with low cards that are excluded from play, often 2s and 3s, as counters based on how many hearts or whatever are showing. At 9-9, you’re almost obligated to “throw away the counters.” I’ve even seen counters ripped in half in heated games. OK, it was me.

What’s important is that you can’t win at euchre without taking risk, but excessive risk is dangerous. Sometimes it pays to be aggressive. But too much aggression results in opponents yelling “Euchre” loudly in your ear a lot, similar to what Dallas Cowboys fans endure when they lose in the playoffs. You don’t need the best cards to win, but you do have to trust your partner. Everyone else? Trust but verify.

Yes, cheating is part of the game. It’s part of life as well. You have to be a hawk to make sure no one fails to follow suit or “renege.” I’ve seen creative shuffling with jacks getting turned up more than they should. I’ve seen dealing off the bottom of the deck. You can even steal or “snake” the deal out of turn. The life lesson: Watch closely, and always ask for a cut. Table talk is frowned on but always rampant: loud sighs when dealt bad hands, references to the Beatles when you’re strong in diamonds, etc. When I’m asked about cheating, I always say, “I never cheat at Euchre. But if I did, I wouldn’t admit it.” Another life lesson: Stay mysterious.

I learned to play Euchre in a fraternity house (don’t call it a frat) of 42 guys. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been awakened at 2 a.m. by someone yelling “Fourth?” because they needed someone else to play. To this day, we play whenever we get together. I’ve played on coffee tables, at diners, in cars, in pools, even in a church while waiting for a wedding to start. Now, driven by lockdowns, we play online tournaments, using the website Trickster, but there are other sites and a dozen or more apps as well. It’s like a long Zoom call while playing cards. Very fun. It’s hard to cheat online. Or at least I won’t admit to knowing how.

Euchre is a game of speed. It was often played on 10-minute breaks at factories, so it was crucial to be fast. No time to think. But banter is always the bonus. A weak card played invokes, “Never send a puppy to do a man’s job.” I’ve seen shirts with “Pick it up, I’m going alone!” And psyching out opponents is fun. I love tapping my about-to-be-played card to remind others to hurry up. Annoying, I know.

Euchre requires risk taking, seeing into the unknown, quick decisions, calling out cheaters, instant bonding (often with strangers), dealing with streaks of bad luck, witty comebacks and, most important, teamwork. If that’s not life, I don’t know what is. Fourth?

Write to kessler@wsj.com.