Hellmuth proves my point

Earlier this year I ranted about claims made by Phil Hellmuth and others that he can't stop himself from making his infamous outbursts during tournaments. I said that that was BS--he could refrain from it anytime he chose to. He just needed sufficient incentive.

Last night's ESPN broadcast of the WSOP, I think, proved my point. The first hour took place the day after Hellmuth received a warning about berating opponents, in which he was allegedly "put on notice in a way that he never has been." Operating under the threat of actual penalty, he manages to act merely childishly, rather than truly obnoxiously--or, more to the point, in a manner that crosses the line of violating tournament rules.

His opponent calls Hellmuth's pre-flop raise (made with A-2; nice hand selection there, Phil!) with Q-10, and gets lucky enough to hit a straight. Hellmuth makes two pairs on the river and pays him off.

But because of the sword hanging over his head, Hellmuth's tirade is noticeably attenuated. He says what appears to be "Goddammit" (hard to know for sure, because it's bleeped out and he's moving rapidly, so it's difficult to read his lips), but that's it for the profanity. He repeatedly questions, "Queen-ten?" and similar comments. But he does not call his opponent an idiot. He does not tell him that he can't even spell poker. He doesn't tell him that he's the worst player in the world. He doesn't criticize the dealer for the cards that were put out (another bit of loveliness that Hellmuth was seen last week to have added to his repertoire). That this relative suppression of his wrath is due to the official warning is made clear when he wanders over to his family and says, "I can't tell him the truth" and "I can't tell him what he really is" and "I can't say it" because "they'll give me a penalty."

Several years ago, economist John Lott wrote a highly controversial book called More Guns, Less Crime, in which he showed (more or less convincingly, depending on your point of view) that increased access to firearms by law-abiding citizens leads to reductions in violent crime rates. He realized that this might seem implausible to readers who tend to think of criminals as being irrational people not prone to thinking through their actions, and thus not likely to respond to incentives or disincentives. Therefore, he discusses whether criminals' conduct can actually be modified by incentives (pp. 16-17):

Yet even if we assume that most criminals are laregly irrational,
deterrence issues raise some tough questions about human nature, questions that
are at the heart of very different views of crime and how to combat it. Still it
is important to draw a distinction between "irrational" behavior and the notion
that deterrence doesn't matter. One doesn't necessarily imply the other. For
instance, some people may hold strange, unfathomable objectives, but this does
not mean that they cannot be discouraged from doing things that bring
increasingly undesirable consequences. While we may not solve the deeper
mysteries of how the human mind works, I hope that the following uncontroversial
example can help show how deterrence works.

Suppose that a hypothetical Mr. Smith is passed over for a promotion. He
keeps a stiff upper lip at work, but after he gets home he kicks his dog. Now
this might appear entirely irrational: the dog did not misbehave. Obviously Mr.
Smith got angry at his boss, but he took it out on his poor dog instead. Could
we conclude that he is an emotional, irrational individual not responding to
incentives? Hardly. The reason that he did not respond forcefully to his boss is
probably that he feared the consequences. Expressing his anger at the boss might
have resulted in his being fired or passed up for future promotions. An
alternative way to vent his frustration would have been to kick his co-workers
or throw things around the office. But again, Mr. Smith chose not to engage in
such behavior because of the likely consequences for his job. In economic terms,
the costs are too high. He manages to bottle up his anger until he gets home and
kicks his dog. The dog is a "low-cost" victim.

Here lies the perplexity: the whole act may be viewed as highly
irrational--after all, Mr. Smith doesn't truly accomplish anything. But still he
tries to minimize the bad consequences of venting his anger.

Hellmuth is just like Mr. Smith. When he knows that he profits from his antics (as I argued previously), and he perceives no real disincentive (because tournament officials never actually enforce the rules against him), we get tirades. But all it takes is convincing him that there are real penalties actually about to come into play, and he suddenly becomes capable of reining himself in. Even though the whole act is highly irrational, he responds rationally to properly designed incentives and disincentives.

Now that tournament officials know this, the only question is whether they will use this knowledge to continue to apply pressure to Phil to shape up, or whether they will allow him to return to his practiced ways of kicking co-workers and throwing things around the office.