Thursday, April 07, 2011

Location, location, location

I have written a few times about playing against bullies and maniacs--for example, here and here. I inevitably talk about the importance of position. (Dang it. There was another long-ago post, I'm sure, about how I was faring badly seated to the right of a maniac at the Flamingo, until a seat opened on his left, I moved, and the tide turned. But now I can't find it, no matter what search strategy I use.)


In February of 2009, Shamus mentioned in one of his posts an interesting article by Rolf Slotboom, in which he challenges the conventional wisdom of trying to sit to the immediate left of a maniac. Among other points, he notes that everybody likes to adjust to the maniac by doing more check-raising, and if you're to the maniac's immediate left, you're likely to be caught in the trap with him. If, however, you're on the maniac's immediate right, then you're the last one to act after his bet, and you thus force the check-raiser to spring his trap before the action is back to you. This was the first time I had ever read a argument against the usual tactic, so it definitely caught my attention and got me thinking. About month later I was up against another maniac, on his immediate right, and that article was one of the reasons I decided not to move, as I explained here.

A recent issue of Card Player magazine had two columns dealing, in large part, with the question of position with respect to a maniac.

First, Todd Brunson explains his reasons for preferring to be a few seats to the maniac's left. Unfortunately, Card Player has recently revised its online format, using Flash, so there's no easy way for me to copy and paste a paragraph of the argument. But he makes many of the same points that Slotboom did. Most prominent is that other players will try to take the first seat or two to the left of the maniac and use raises to isolate him. If you are to their left, you can use the observation of what they are doing to trap them between the maniac and you, rather than you being the one that gets trapped in the middle, as can happen with the conventional advice.

Roy Cooke doesn't advocate any particular spot, but discusses how your strategy changes depending on where you are relative to the maniac.

Over the last five years, I have come to feel much less anxious about being stuck with a maniac on my left, probably because I have become more deft at the techniques of using his aggression against him judo-style. I find that I can manage myself from anywhere, for the most part.

As a rule of thumb, though, the more smart, adaptive players there are at the table, the more I want to be on the maniac's right, forcing those smart players to reveal their intentions before I have to act. Conversely, the more timid and unimaginative the opposition is, and the more I see that they are hunkering down and tightening up against his aggression, the more I'd prefer to be the one pulling the isolation moves from the maniac's left. The latter remains my most frequent choice, because the games I mostly play in are not exactly teeming with smart, flexible, observant players. (When they are, I try to find a softer table.)

But all three articles--Slotboom, Brunson, and Cooke--are worth reading and mulling over. The more tools and flexibility you have at your disposal, the better prepared you'll be for whatever situation you might find yourself in.

HORSE and razz tournaments





Here's an updated list of when the two major U.S.-facing sites host HORSE and razz multi-table tournaments in the price range that I like to play.

Good news

This blog has been officially deemed an "essential" service, and will continue publishing even in the event of a federal government shutdown.

Guess the casino, #820




To reveal the hidden answer, use your mouse to highlight the space immediately after the word "Answer" below.



Answer: Sunset Station

Wednesday, April 06, 2011

Guess the casino, #819




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Answer: Sahara

Tuesday, April 05, 2011

Poker gems, #413



Richard P. Feynman, in 1974 commencement address at Caltech, as quoted in Feynman, The Pleasure of Finding Things Out, page 212.


The first principle is that you must not fool yourself--and you are the easiest person to fool.

Guess the casino, #818




To reveal the hidden answer, use your mouse to highlight the space immediately after the word "Answer" below.



Answer: Luxor

Monday, April 04, 2011

Duh, winning!




There are times that the poker gods have decreed, "You will lose tonight," and there is nothing you can do to stop it. You play patiently, read opponents with laser precision, get your money in with the best of it every time--and lose, lose, lose.

There are other times that the poker gods have decreed, "You will win tonight," and there is nothing you can do to stop it. You play loose, from out of position, make every mistake in the book, get your money in bad every time--and win, win, win.

I didn't exactly play that badly tonight, but it was unmistakable that some unseen deity had declared it to be my night.


A year ago, almost to the day, I met reader Matt from Atlanta. As I reported then, he generously staked me in a tournament at the Venetian, just to have an excuse to meet and chat with me for a while. We've kept in occasional contact via Twitter since then. Several days ago he let me know he'd be in town again for a convention. He said he'd be staying at Hooters, and planned to hit their poker room Monday night. I had no other plans, and hadn't been to Hooters in a couple of months, so quickly agreed to meet him there.

I got there early and was one of the four to get the game started. Within the first ten minutes, I had called a raise with 6-6, flopped a set, turned quads, and picked up a $100 high-hand bonus in addition to the pot:




It has been several months since I last hit a jackpot--a statistically anomalous dry spell. It was high time it ended.

After that, the good times just kept rolling. I just Could. Not. Lose. I literally won every pot of over $50 that I contested the entire session, save one; I lost a race with J-J versus A-K all-in pre-flop for $45 each. Other than that, pretty much everything rolled my way. Raise with a good ace, and the flop would have an ace or my kicker as the high card. Call somebody else's raise with suited connectors, and I'd make the flush, straight, trips, or two pair. This streak was completely, utterly, off-the-charts, must-be-rigged ridiculous, and it had the full attention of every other player and all of the poker room employees.

I played for just over 2 1/2 hours, starting with the max buy-in of $200, and cashed out with $980, for a win rate of $297/hour. That is insane!

Matt and I had agreed in advance to a $5 bet over who could win a pot with and show the Mighty Deuce-Four first. Well, before he even arrived, I had scored a double-felting with it. I raised from the button to $15. The small blind moved all in for $27. The UTG player called, leaving himself only $10 behind. I called, too. The flop was K-4-x. UTG tossed in his last $10. I called, of course. Both he and the small blind had K-Q. So what came on the turn? A deuce ex machina. Two pair, thankyouverymuch. Pot to me.

(I explained to the table that not only was it my favorite hand, but it was the most powerful hand in poker. Some actually scoffed at this idea. Another player claimed that deuce-five is much stronger than deuce-four. Now it was my turn to scoff. The silly ideas that some poker players get in their heads!)

Matt was kind enough to pay me off when he arrived and heard about the Deuce-Four double-felting, even though he hadn't witnessed it. I didn't think it should count (even though other players were vouching for it having occurred) since I had an unfair head start. But I think he just wanted to give me this chip anyway:




He had been in Panama on his honeymoon, and brought it back as a souvenir for me, knowing that I collect $5 chips. I think it's lovely, and it's one that I am extremely unlikely ever to have picked up on my own. Thanks, Matt. You're a classy guy.

So how did I repay his kindness? The story gets ugly here. Gory, even. If you have small children in the room, you might want to have them leave before you read on. You don't want them having nightmares.

I had 7s-9s and limped from early position, Matt (on my left) also limped, along with a couple of others. Mr. Deuce-Five raised to $17 from the big blind. He raised a lot, but usually with good position, so this smelled of a real hand. I called, as did Matt. Three to the flop, which was J-7-7 rainbow. Ding! Mr. D-F bet $25. I smooth-called, assuming he'd bet nearly any turn, and it would either be an all-in bet or he'd be pot-committed to me shoving on him.

That's not how it worked out. Matt blindsided me with his own shove, for about $120. Mr. D-F shoved, too, for slightly more than that--almost surely with an overpair to the board. I was pretty confident Matt didn't have J-J, both because he hadn't raised pre-flop and because I think if he were that strong he would milk it more, trying to keep both me and Mr. D-F in. No way was he bluffing, and no way was he foolish enough to think that it would be a good spot to commit his stack with something like A-J, after my suspicious flat-call on a drawless flop. He had to have a 7, no two ways about it. But what kicker? I feared an ace. But Mr. D-F might well have two of the aces, and I also thought that after an ace his most likely kickers were a 6 or 8, for suited connectors. If so, I was ahead by a nose. It seemed to me at least twice as likely that his second card was a 6 or 8 as that it was an ace, so with more than 2:1 pot odds, I called, holding my breath.

I showed my 7-9, and Matt rolled over.... wait for it.... suited 7-10. D'oh!

I just barely had time to process this bad news when, Boom! Nine-ball, corner pocket. Full house. Blank on the river. A roughly $530 pot came my way. When the poker gods have made you their golden boy for the night, hitting a three-outer is child's play.

Fortunately, Matt's lovely young wife was taking the slot machines to school, making up for his sick losses. Also fortunately (for me), he laughed it off like the good sport he is. He left to go do something else, though we may meet up again tomorrow night. I've got to give the guy a sporting chance to return the suckout! Maybe my luck will have run out by then.

But I wouldn't count on it.


NoahSD

I like Noah Stephens-Davidowitz more every time he posts. Here's his latest on how repentant former poker cheaters can rehabilitate themselves: http://www.nsdpoker.com/2011/04/cheater-challenge/


Mixing it up





Last night I spent 5 hours playing the Imperial Palace Sunday night mixed game with Mrs. Lederer. I have found her to be an unusually pleasant person with whom to share time at a poker table, and I like her more every time she visits town. It's been over a year since I tried a mixed cash game, so the itch for doing something different combined with the chance to chat with Mrs. L. made for good incentive to sign up for the mixer.

They play a rotation of ten games, all $3/$6 limit, only three of which I play fairly regularly as part of the standard HORSE mix (Omaha/8, stud/8, and razz). There are several weird and baffling variants thrown in. As it turned out, those were the ones in which I made the most money. I don't mind admitting that it was pure luckboxing; I had no skill edge.

My biggest pot of the night came in what they call 3-2-1 Omaha. It's a high-only game in which you get three simultaneous flops, then two turns, then one river. You can mix and match any flop and turn, plus the river, to make your five-card board (but you have to take one of the flops as it is; you can't just pick any three cards from the nine), then combine that with your hole cards in the usual Omaha fashion, i.e., two from your hand and three from the board. I find this game extremely confusing, because you have to examine six different combinations of board cards in order to figure out what the best possible hands would be, then judge that list against your own holdings.

Well, on the second hand of this rotation, I started with QQxx, flopped a set, and made quads on the turn, which was the nuts. The river, however, put a possible straight flush out there; somebody holding the Ad-3d would have a steel wheel. I wasn't too worried about it. My lone opponent remaining at the river bet, I raised, she reraised. Still not worried. I raised again. (There is no cap when heads-up on the river, so we could keep going until we were all in if we chose to.) She rechecked her cards, reexamined the board, and raised me back. I figured she had a strong full house. She was the least experienced player at the table, and usually timid in her betting unless she had the stone cold nuts. So I was slightly worried, but not enough to stop me. I raised yet again. Again she looked at her hole cards and again she spent some time examining the board, before announcing "Raise." Holy crap. If I have quads beaten by a straight flush, I'm going to be seriously annoyed. But I just can't believe that this particular player would turn this aggressive with anything else, so this time I end the raising war with just a call, while simultaneously asking, with some incredulity in my voice, "Did you make the straight flush?" I was stunned when she said, "No, but I have the nut flush."

Whew! I showed my four queens and took in what may have been the biggest pot of the night. As she repeatedly explained, she just didn't see the two queens out there. When she was rechecking the board, it was specifically to see if there were any pairs that somebody could use to make a full house. Not seeing any, she concluded that her nut flush must be good. She was the only player at the table inexperienced enough to make that mistake after checking the board as many times as she did. But hey, poker is all about profiting from other people's mistakes, so I'm not feeling bad about it.

In the same game, I played a hand only for the amusement of Mrs. L. and myself (she folded, so I showed her my cards and let her sweat the hand with me), since I started with a 2-2-4-x on the button. (Top poker mathematicians at MIT are still working out whether the deuce-four combinations are always winners in 3-2-1 Omaha.) The bottom flop came 6-6-2, giving me a tiny full house. The only other player in this hand was Mark, on my left, a regular in this mixer, and by far the most experienced and aggressive mixed-game player at the table. I just check-called the flop and turn, fearing that he had a better full house. But when he checked the river, I figured I was good. I bet, he called with trips.

Only once did I screw up because of forgetting the rules or format of a game. It was the first hand of 4-Card Ocean Crazy Pineapple. You get four hole cards, betting round. Flop, betting round, discard one. Turn, betting round, discard one. River, betting round. Then finally an "ocean" (6th card on the board--the river flows into the ocean, you know), and another betting round. They said that somebody always forgets that an ocean is coming and exposes his hand after the river. Well, last night it was me. I announced that I had a full house. Mrs. L. called anyway, presumably hoping to improve to her own boat on the ocean. She didn't. At worst, I cost myself only one big bet with that gaffe.

Considering the complexity and unfamiliarity of most of the games, to play for 5 hours and make only that one technical error was something of a triumph. I never lost track of what game we were playing, whether the ace played for high or low, which of three draws we were on, or whether we were on a betting round versus a discard round, never misread my hand, never tried going for a low when no low scored, etc. (Pats self on back.)

I bluffed only once. The game was badugi. Mark and I both had strong 3-card starters, and were drawing one. It was just a contest to see who got there first. I had been playing it passively, letting him bet (as was his wont), and just check-calling. I knew that he knew that I tended to do that with him, and get aggressive only when I made something. I decided to use that knowledge against him. When the final draw didn't give me the suit I needed, I led out betting. I didn't think he would raise as a bluff, so the worst that would happen is he would raise and I'd fold, or he'd call and I'd lose. That is, at most I would lose one bet. But if he had missed, too, he might give me credit for having made it, fold the best three-card hand, and I'd win the whole pot. I thought (and still think) it was a smart play.

To my surprise, he thought long and hard about what to do. The longer he thought, the more it became clear that he did not have a badugi. With a strong badugi he would raise. With a weak one he would call instantly. I realized that he must have a pretty good three-card hand, or he wouldn't take so long to think it out. When he finally called, I said, "Well, I was bluffing, but now I think I might have been bluffing with the best hand." I showed my three-card 6. He winced and showed his three-card 7. Yes!

Late in the evening, there was one remarkable hand of badugi. Playing four-handed, three of us made strong badugis. I made an 8-7, Mrs. L. made a 7-6, and Mark made the nuts, a 4. I'll wait here while you go figure out the odds of that happening.

I twice made a #1 (the nuts) in 2-7 triple draw. I haz mad drawing skillz.

A little after midnight, I was finally too tired to continue, and cashed out with $66 more than I had bought in for. I'm not sure, but I think that is the first time I have ended winner in a mixed game. On top of that, I had a great time. The other players were friendly, smart, funny people that were just plain enjoyable to be with. All of us except Mark, I think it's fair to say, had to struggle to keep straight all the rules and mechanics of each game. It's not like we were playing deep, third-level, mind-game poker. I mean, go ahead--just try triple-range-merging your Double-Flop Omaha hands while everybody else at the table is just trying to remember how many cards from their hands they have to use and whether low gets half the pot. Fat lotta good it'll do ya.

I don't think I'll exactly become a weekly fixture in that game, but I do think that I should pay it a visit more often than I have been doing.

Guess the casino, #817




To reveal the hidden answer, use your mouse to highlight the space immediately after the word "Answer" below.



Answer: Gold Coast

Sunday, April 03, 2011

Guess the casino, #816




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Answer: Circus Circus

Saturday, April 02, 2011

Florida, day 6

Day 6 photo album is here.


We were originally planning to drive back to the Tampa area and spend the day there. But Cardgrrl called an audible, making a last-minute decision instead to visit the Audubon Corkscrew Swamp Sanctuary, which is about an hour east of Ft. Myers. I had mentioned it a couple of times as a possible stop in our itinerary, and I think her acquiescence (wow--I typed that word about 15 different ways before the spell-checker stopped highlighting it as wrong) was meant as sort of a sop to me for having let her and her aunt call the shots over the previous several days. But apparently she ended up as glad that we made the detour as I was, judging by her words and photographs.

Corkscrew (named for the river that flows through it) is not exactly a hopping tourist destination. It's somewhat off the beaten path. But we found it well worth the trip. It's a roughly two-mile boardwalk path through an interesting variety of six different small ecosystems that have an unusual convergence in the area. It was clear to me from the equipment and books we saw people carrying, as well as snippets of overheard conversation, that a large fraction of visitors were dedicated birders. I was pleased and surprised at how freely strangers were pointing out to each other hard-to-see wildlife, sharing binoculars, etc.

The Audubon guides were wonderful, too. When something especially interesting was spotted, they would post a paid or volunteer docent there and alert passersby as to what could be seen. For example, in my #14, you can just barely see a big nest with a baby hawk's head poking out of it. That was taken on maximum zoom, and cropped to remove about 90% of the surroundings. It was impossible to see with the unaided eye. But they had set up a powerful spotting scope on a tripod, and were encouraging tourists to look. Through it, you could easily see the little fellas moving around, chirping, and pecking at each other. Delightful! Because the sanctuary is not a heavily promoted, commercial site, there weren't long lines of annoying people messing it up; we could just walk right up to the friendly guide who was eager for everybody to share in the sight. There were very few young children, and the adults were unusually well behaved, everybody trying to remain quiet so as not to scare off the wildlife we were all there to see. It was really an enjoyable, relaxing way to take an afternoon stroll.

#2 is a hawk whose very presence was scaring the bejesus out of the other birds in the area, judging by the alarming calls they were passing amongst themselves.

#3 is a cottonmouth--one of several cool critters we totally would have walked right past without noticing, were it not for one of the helpful guides stationed there to point him out. (There was a beautiful yellow rat snake a few feet away, too, but it was impossible to get a clear shot of him through the shrubs and grasses.)

#8 shows a fine example of a strangler fig, which I had never heard of before. They look like vines, but are not. They do not grow from the ground up, but germinate in the canopy of the host tree and exist as epiphytes until, growing downward, they reach the ground. How cool is that?!

#5, 9, 12, and 18 are all American White Ibis, which were abundant. #9 is a terrible shot, but was the only time we saw a real aggregation of them--at least eight all hunting together. (What is a collection of ibis called? A flock? A gaggle? A murder?)

#10 and 11 are an American Anhinga, a truly remarkable-looking bird, much larger than you'd probably guess from these photos.

#13 is a Little Blue Heron, with a gorgeous spectrum of blues and purples in its plumage.

Cardgrrl was sorely disappointed not to have seen any alligators on our trip, so it was a special treat to spot one here--the last place we would have a chance to do so (#17). And it was not just any ol' alligator, but a new mother with about eight tiny bebbe alligators running up and down her back! The only bummer was that it was at least 30 yards away and nearly hidden in the marsh plants. It was another wonderful sight that we would have missed, were it not for other visitors excitedly pointing it out.

#19 is a big ol' snapping turtle--yet another creature to which we were oblivious until fellow sightseer helpfully directed our attention.

We finally had had enough of nature, between the Edison botanical gardens, the beaches, the Sanibel Island wildlife sanctuary, and the Audubon. So we headed back to Tampa in the late afternoon to take in a distinctly different kind of experience: the Hard Rock Tampa casino (#21). Both Cardgrrl and I, at different tables, independently concluded that the quality of play here was noticeably, meaningfully worse than at similar games in Vegas. We were only there for a couple of hours before being too tired to continue, making ours a small sample size, but if you're a decent player and in the area, a visit will likely be profitable. It was a pleasant playing environment, as well-run as most Vegas poker rooms, and larger than most (50 tables, and surprisingly busy on a Monday night). You could plop that casino down on a vacant lot on the Strip, and it would fit in perfectly. Were it there, I expect it would become one of my more frequent haunts.

The next day (Tuesday) was just returning the rental car and waiting for our flights, so this was effectively our last day of real vacation time. As I've already said, it was one of the most thoroughly enjoyable weeks I've ever spent, with the world's most perfect weather. And, of course, the world's best travel companion.

Guess the casino, #815




To reveal the hidden answer, use your mouse to highlight the space immediately after the word "Answer" below.



Answer: Aria

Friday, April 01, 2011

Home game #1 is in the books




And I cashed! OK, a min-cash, but still--it's better than an ignominious defeat.

Congrats to potnets (aka MD DonkFest) and mooninjune (aka Shamus) for taking top honors. (I suppose with razz, one should use scare quotes: top "honors.")

I hope others had as much fun as I did. Thanks to all 11 who came, and to all 48 of you who have joined the club.


Florida, day 5

Sunday was our last day in the Ft. Myers area. We spent it on Sanibel Island, which I already previewed for you here.


Day 5 photo album is here.

The Darling National Wildlife Refuge was nice enough, but, frankly, it had a heck of a lot less wildlife than one would imagine, given the name. Or maybe the animals have all just learned to stay away from the road and trails, which are the only places humans are allowed to go. We were also disappointed to discover that the one place where we would be most likely to see alligators had been cordoned off--no visitors allowed.

#2 is some sort of ibis, but I'm having trouble nailing down the species. #7 is an American White Ibis. #10 is an osprey in a nest built across the road from the wildlife preserve.

Detailed surveys of my readership reveal that 98% of you agree that the slogan shown on the toddler-sized T-shirt in #11 correctly describes the author of this blog.

#12-23 were all taken on the beach at Captiva Island, during one of the most perfect sunsets it has ever been my privilege to witness.

Only one more day left to tell you about.

Compromises




I was playing at the Stratosphere last night. Two situations arose in which I thought that leniency on the house rules was in order. Because many readers think that I'm always in favor of strict, unbending enforcement of every rule of the game--when, in reality, I'm more of a pragmatist--I thought these incidents might serve as a useful corrective.

English only

The first problem centered around two young men who were speaking a foreign language (Czech, as it turned out). When this first occurred during a hand, and the dealer was ignoring it, I took my usual approach, which is to quietly ask the dealer, "Do you have an English-only rule here?" Of course I already know the answer. The purpose is to nudge the dealer into enforcing it, without being directly confrontational with either her or the players involved. As usually happens, this resulted in the dealer saying, "Yes," then turning to the two individuals and explaining that they must speak English only while at the table. (It incidentally confirmed my impression that she knew perfectly well who was violating the rule; she was just hoping that she wouldn't have to do anything about it. Dealers who wait for a player to ask them to enforce a rule earn my contempt.)

Let's pause here to consider three different ways that one might apply an English-only rule. The least restrictive would be to have it apply only to players who have live cards. This prevents them from secretly disclosing to each other what they hold, discussing how to trap a third player between them, or other nefarious activities.

The next level of strictness would be to have the rule apply during the entire time that a hand is going on--i.e., while anybody has live cards. This has some additional benefits for game integrity. It may be, for example, that somebody else at the table knows the foreign language well enough to eavesdrop on the conversation; he could thus gain advantageous additional information if the two foreign players, now out of the hand, discuss what they folded, what they think other players have, etc.

Finally, the most draconian level of enforcement would be to ban all foreign speech at the table, no matter what is going on. At least in theory, this would make it more difficult for two players to discuss signals that they will use in future hands, or whatever. As I understand it from the dealers, this is the way the Stratosphere's rule is.

In my opinion, the middle level is probably the best one to use, because that third level of enforcement has really marginal additional utility in terms of game security, while it imposes a pretty significant social burden on at least some players. Last night's game was a perfect demonstration of this. One of the two players in question was bilingual, but the other spoke essentially no English. Outlawing all non-English conversation at the table was thus, for him, effectively imposing a rule that he was not allowed to talk, and his friend was not allowed to talk to him. It's like dropping the Cone of Silence on his seat. It was clear to me from tone, body language, etc., that most of what they were talking about had nothing to do with the game. This was especially true when their wives/girlfriends were chatting with them from the rail a few feet away, which was a high percentage of the time they were there. Most of the stuff was, I'm confident, harmless chatter that was helping them have a good time.

However, because the dealers were being lax in enforcing the rule, the two men made no distinction between chatting during a hand and chatting between hands. That bothered me. I didn't really think that they were colluding (they would freely check-raise each other even when nobody else was in the hand, for instance), but recreational players are frequently too loose-lipped about talking about the hand in progress in improper ways, and I didn't want that going on in Czech any more than I want it going on in English.

At the same time, I didn't want the dealers to be so hard-assed about shushing all of their conversation that they would get mad and leave, nor even that they would stop having fun. Players who are enjoying themselves, drinking beer (as they were), flirting with their onlooking girlfriends, etc., are the ones I'm most likely to be able to make money from, not to mention being just plain more pleasant to share a table with than the hoodie-wearing, headphone-listening, sunglass-hiding, solitary grinder.

So after something like five dealer warnings to these two had done nothing to squelch the talk during hands, I went up to the desk and quietly spoke to the floorperson. I explained the situation and how strict enforcement of the rule would be a bad idea, but, at the same time, I was uncomfortable with them having no muzzle at all on. I suggested applying the rule strictly as far as that middle level, or even just the first level, but then leaving them alone to chat between hands. She agreed to so instruct the dealers.

And it worked, mostly. The dealers became more attentive to reminding them of the rule when they had live cards, but looked the other way the rest of the time. In fact, at one point it actually worked too well. We had a button straddle for the first time, which, at the Stratosphere, means that the order of action changes, and the blinds go first. Our foreign travelers had never encountered this before. The dealer explained it to them. Then, predictably, the bilingual guy translated the explanation for his friend. It was perfectly obvious what he was saying, from the context, the gestures, and the occasional untranslatable English poker word slipped in. But even then the dealer rushed to remind them, "English only!" And people think I'm inflexible!


Short buy

The second situation involved a short buy. Every poker room that I know of has a minimum buy-in. However, if you lose all your chips and don't have enough cash to rebuy for that minimum, they'll allow you a "short buy" one time, after which you'll have to make a trip to the ATM for your next full rebuy.

Last night there were two extremely inexperienced 60-something women friends playing. They were classic weak-tight players, transparently easy to read and beat. Of course I wanted them to stick around as long as they had any money to their names. But one of them lost her stack and at the same time wanted to move to a seat that had just been vacated. She wanted to rebuy for $50, as she had the previous time she went broke, although the table minimum was $100. The dealer tried to explain--in a thick foreign accent that the poor woman was having great difficulty understanding--that the minimum was $100. She somehow got the idea that the reason she was having to buy in for $100 instead of just $50 was because of changing seats, which, of course, had nothing to do with it. There was a cacophony of other players all simultaneously trying to explain differently to her, but it all just confused her. After a minute or so of trying to understand, she was fed up, frustrated, and embarrassed. She took her cash off the table, and said, "Never mind. I don't want to play anymore." She told her friend she'd catch up with her later, and stormed off.

There was still another empty seat and no waiting list. I, for one, would have been fine with her buying in for whatever she wanted. Hell, let her rebuy for $10 50 times in a row if she wants, just don't let her leave! In similar situations I've encountered in other poker rooms, the dealer has called the floor over. The floor person either just grants a waiver of the minimum buy-in rule, or asks the other players, "Does anybody object to letting her have another short buy?" I can't recall anybody ever voicing a complaint about it. Everybody understands that a player sitting behind $50 in chips is better than an empty chair.

Unfortunately, I didn't think and act fast enough to try to get such a solution imposed last night. When there is a cacophony of players all talking at once, it so seriously annoys me that I tend to tune out and go inside my own head to shut it out, trusting that some reasonable decision will be arrived at. When I finally realized that this woman was walking out (at first I thought she was just moving back to her original seat), it was too late to suggest the usual solution, which I had thought would be what would happen without me adding my two cents to the conversation. It was another situation in which bending the rules was so clearly called for that I just kind of assumed it would happen that way, so I didn't take active steps to facilitate it, and it ended unhappily. Maybe worst of all, it left a novice player with a bad taste in her mouth about her first live casino poker experience, and may thwart her from trying it again anytime soon. I think if I had been more assertive, I could have gotten it worked out to everybody's satisfaction. My bad.

Most poker rules should be strictly enforced most of the time. But there are circumstances that call for alternatives and compromises and creative solutions. When they arise, it's a mistake to be unwilling to look for and implement them.


Image is of a sculpture titled "Bending the Rules" by Ron Van Balen, found on his web site here.

Guess the casino, #814



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Answer: Suncoast