Another zero-level thinker

In between random shut-offs of the software, there was some serious head-scratching going on for me in last night's HORSE SNG on PokerStars. This was the fifth hand of the tournament:





My first thought was that this looked suspiciously like chip-dumping, although a $5 STT seemed a strange venue for such shenanigans.

I became less suspicious over time, because the same character (kolorfish) spewed just as badly to everybody else, including me. For example, here's a stud hand (not high/low) where he called my bet on the river with nothing but queen-high. I had a well-hidden full house, but I did have an ace showing, and he couldn't even beat that. Here's the hand history:


PokerStars Game #27688006030: Tournament #160069666, $5.00+$0.50 HORSE (7 Card Stud Limit) - Level IV (60/120) - 2009/05/01 3:13:34 ET
Table '160069666 1' 8-max Seat #3 is the button
Seat 1: tanani1 (2112 in chips)
Seat 3: Cardgrrl (653 in chips)
Seat 4: xxCHEExx (3032 in chips)
Seat 6: Rakewell1 (1173 in chips)
Seat 7: boogerbam (2578 in chips)
Seat 8: kolorfish (2452 in chips)
xxCHEExx: posts the ante 12
Rakewell1: posts the ante 12
boogerbam: posts the ante 12
kolorfish: posts the ante 12
tanani1: posts the ante 12
Cardgrrl: posts the ante 12
*** 3rd STREET ***
Dealt to tanani1 [8d]
Dealt to Cardgrrl [Kc]
Dealt to xxCHEExx [Td]
Dealt to Rakewell1 [9s 9d 9h]
Dealt to boogerbam [3d]
Dealt to kolorfish [3s]
boogerbam: brings in for 18
kolorfish: calls 18
tanani1: folds
Cardgrrl: folds
xxCHEExx: calls 18
Rakewell1: raises 42 to 60
Rakewell1 is disconnected
boogerbam: calls 42
kolorfish: calls 42
xxCHEExx: calls 42
*** 4th STREET ***
Dealt to xxCHEExx [Td] [Qs]
Dealt to Rakewell1 [9s 9d 9h] [As]
Dealt to boogerbam [3d] [Th]
Dealt to kolorfish [3s] [5h]
Rakewell1 is connected
Rakewell1: bets 60
boogerbam: folds
kolorfish: calls 60
xxCHEExx: calls 60
*** 5th STREET ***
Dealt to xxCHEExx [Td Qs] [Ks]
Dealt to Rakewell1 [9s 9d 9h As] [5s]
Dealt to kolorfish [3s 5h] [Qh]
Rakewell1: bets 120
kolorfish: calls 120
xxCHEExx: calls 120
*** 6th STREET ***
Dealt to xxCHEExx [Td Qs Ks] [6h]
Dealt to Rakewell1 [9s 9d 9h As 5s] [Jc]
Dealt to kolorfish [3s 5h Qh] [7h]
Rakewell1: bets 120
kolorfish: calls 120
xxCHEExx: calls 120
*** RIVER ***
Dealt to Rakewell1 [9s 9d 9h As 5s Jc] [5d]
Rakewell1: bets 120
kolorfish: calls 120
xxCHEExx: calls 120
*** SHOW DOWN ***
Rakewell1: shows [9s 9d 9h As 5s Jc 5d] (a full house, Nines full of Fives)
kolorfish: mucks hand
xxCHEExx: shows [Kh 5c Td Qs Ks 6h Tc] (two pair, Kings and Tens)
Rakewell1 collected 1572 from pot
*** SUMMARY ***
Total pot 1572 Rake 0
Seat 1: tanani1 folded on the 3rd Street (didn't bet)
Seat 3: Cardgrrl (button) folded on the 3rd Street (didn't bet)
Seat 4: xxCHEExx showed [Kh 5c Td Qs Ks 6h Tc] and lost with two pair, Kings and Tens
Seat 6: Rakewell1 showed [9s 9d 9h As 5s Jc 5d] and won (1572) with a full house, Nines full of Fives
Seat 7: boogerbam folded on the 4th Street
Seat 8: kolorfish mucked [4d 2s 3s 5h Qh 7h 8s]

OK, so maybe the poor schmuck thought it was Stud/8, right? I doubt it, based on what happened a short time later.

During a Stud/8 round, my four visible cards were QQ33. He had four small cards showing, so when he called my bet on the river, I naturally assumed he would take the low and we'd split the pot. Nope. I scooped. I checked the hand history, and he had had one pair--aces--and no qualifying low. He couldn't beat what I had showing, and called a bet on the river. Well, at least he didn't raise that time, so he was getting a little bit smarter than he had been at hold'em. Here's that hand history:

PokerStars Game #27688083753: Tournament #160069666, $5.00+$0.50 HORSE (7 Card Stud Hi/Lo Limit) - Level V (80/160) - 2009/05/01 3:19:19 ET
Table '160069666 1' 8-max Seat #3 is the button
Seat 1: tanani1 (2120 in chips)
Seat 4: xxCHEExx (1550 in chips)
Seat 6: Rakewell1 (3978 in chips)
Seat 7: boogerbam (3184 in chips)
Seat 8: kolorfish (1168 in chips)
xxCHEExx: posts the ante 16
Rakewell1: posts the ante 16
boogerbam: posts the ante 16
kolorfish: posts the ante 16
tanani1: posts the ante 16
*** 3rd STREET ***
Dealt to tanani1 [2h]
Dealt to xxCHEExx [Ts]
Dealt to Rakewell1 [As 9s Qs]
Dealt to boogerbam [7s]
Dealt to kolorfish [6c]
tanani1: brings in for 24
xxCHEExx: calls 24
Rakewell1: calls 24
boogerbam: folds
boogerbam is sitting out
kolorfish: calls 24
*** 4th STREET ***
Dealt to tanani1 [2h] [6d]
Dealt to xxCHEExx [Ts] [7c]
Dealt to Rakewell1 [As 9s Qs] [Qd]
Dealt to kolorfish [6c] [Ac]
Rakewell1 is disconnected
Rakewell1 is connected
Rakewell1: bets 80
kolorfish: calls 80
tanani1: folds
xxCHEExx: calls 80
*** 5th STREET ***
Dealt to xxCHEExx [Ts 7c] [Qh]
Dealt to Rakewell1 [As 9s Qs Qd] [3c]
Dealt to kolorfish [6c Ac] [4d]
Rakewell1: bets 160
kolorfish: calls 160
xxCHEExx: calls 160
*** 6th STREET ***
Dealt to xxCHEExx [Ts 7c Qh] [Jc]
Dealt to Rakewell1 [As 9s Qs Qd 3c] [3d]
Dealt to kolorfish [6c Ac 4d] [7h]
Rakewell1: bets 160
boogerbam has returned
kolorfish: calls 160
xxCHEExx: calls 160
*** RIVER ***
Dealt to Rakewell1 [As 9s Qs Qd 3c 3d] [8s]
Rakewell1: bets 160
kolorfish: calls 160
xxCHEExx: folds
*** SHOW DOWN ***
Rakewell1: shows [As 9s Qs Qd 3c 3d 8s] (HI: two pair, Queens and Threes)
kolorfish: mucks hand
Rakewell1 collected 1696 from pot
No low hand qualified
*** SUMMARY ***
Total pot 1696 Rake 0
Seat 1: tanani1 folded on the 4th Street
Seat 4: xxCHEExx folded on the River
Seat 6: Rakewell1 showed [As 9s Qs Qd 3c 3d 8s] and won (1696) with HI: two pair, Queens and Threes
Seat 7: boogerbam folded on the 3rd Street (didn't bet)
Seat 8: kolorfish mucked [Ah Js 6c Ac 4d 7h 9h]

I managed to finish in 2nd place despite the frequent software glitches. With people like this guy populating the tables, it's something of a wonder that I ever fail to cash in these things.

Zero-level thinking

I swear, this is not an April Fool's Day post. Well, it is that day, but this post is in earnest.

I just finished a HORSE SNG. The following was the most amusing hand from the session. (Well, Cardgrrl thinks another hand was more amusing, and she is writing that up as I do this one. Edit: It is here.)

A couple of months ago, Shamus wrote a post about zero-level thinking, in which it is not possible to attribute even the most rudimentary poker reasoning to a player's action. This falls into that category.

Usually when I post hand replays, I have all the cards exposed from the outset. This is an occasion where I think you will enjoy it more if you see them at the same point in the hand that I did.



I folded a full house on the river. Not everybody thinks the same way.

I might be a moron

OK, so I was playing a HORSE sit-and-go before heading to bed, as I often do. A certain other poker blogger, who shall remain nameless here, had already been eliminated, but was chatting with me via IM on the side. This certain other nameless blogger had sent me a link to a web page about supertasters, speculating that I was one because of my slight propensity toward consuming mass quantities of chocolate. So I was dealing with that, when this hand came up. I saw that I had aces in the hole, and was very pleased. I raised. Two other players were quickly all in, but I kept betting because I thought I had a better hand than the other guy who was still in with chips. Because I had ACES! And then it got even better, because I paired again and ended up with two pairs, aces and sixes. Yea verily, I was indeed happy with the situation.

At a glance, though, I couldn't see why one of the short stacks was getting pushed the main pot and I got only the side pot. It was only after the hand was over and I went back and looked at the screenshot above that I noticed that WE HAD BEEN PLAYING RAZZ, NOT STUD!!!!!

The short stack won the main pot and one small side pot, but my second side pot was even bigger than those combined. My lone remaining opponent folded on the river. He might well have had a hand better than my K-9 low, but I was betting and raising so convincingly that he folded maybe a K-8 or a J-8, sure that it couldn't be good there. To him it must have looked like I had a 9-8 low at worst. Took a small profit (566 chips) on the hand.

I'm blaming a certain other blogger who shall not be named here for the distraction.

Or, of course, I might just be a moron.




*******************
Full hand history below, in case anybody wants to watch the near train wreck in slow motion.

PokerStars Game #26486026408: Tournament #151643535, $5.00+$0.50 HORSE (Razz Limit) - Level VIII (200/400) - 2009/03/29 4:56:41 ET
Table '151643535 1' 8-max Seat #4 is the button
Seat 1: Grozamolnia (2866 in chips)
Seat 2: DwnAndDrty (637 in chips)
Seat 4: Rakewell1 (2510 in chips)
Seat 5: DeJaBlue2u (360 in chips)
Seat 7: KTFUMA (5627 in chips)
DeJaBlue2u: posts the ante 40
KTFUMA: posts the ante 40
Grozamolnia: posts the ante 40
DwnAndDrty: posts the ante 40
Rakewell1: posts the ante 40
*** 3rd STREET ***
Dealt to Grozamolnia [9s]
Dealt to DwnAndDrty [6h]
Dealt to Rakewell1 [Ac Ad 6s]
Dealt to DeJaBlue2u [Th]
Dealt to KTFUMA [3h]
DeJaBlue2u: brings in for 60
KTFUMA: raises 140 to 200
Grozamolnia: folds
DwnAndDrty: calls 200
Rakewell1: raises 200 to 400
DeJaBlue2u: calls 260 and is all-in
KTFUMA: raises 200 to 600
DwnAndDrty: calls 397 and is all-in
Rakewell1: raises 200 to 800
Betting is capped
KTFUMA: calls 200
*** 4th STREET ***
Dealt to DwnAndDrty [6h] [2h]
Dealt to Rakewell1 [Ac Ad 6s] [9d]
Dealt to DeJaBlue2u [Th] [Qh]
Dealt to KTFUMA [3h] [Jc]
Rakewell1: bets 200
KTFUMA: calls 200
*** 5th STREET ***
Dealt to DwnAndDrty [6h 2h] [5s]
Dealt to Rakewell1 [Ac Ad 6s 9d] [8s]
Dealt to DeJaBlue2u [Th Qh] [Js]
Dealt to KTFUMA [3h Jc] [Kc]
Rakewell1: bets 400
KTFUMA: calls 400
*** 6th STREET ***
Dealt to DwnAndDrty [6h 2h 5s] [Qd]
Dealt to Rakewell1 [Ac Ad 6s 9d 8s] [Kd]
Dealt to DeJaBlue2u [Th Qh Js] [Qs]
Dealt to KTFUMA [3h Jc Kc] [8h]
Rakewell1: bets 400
KTFUMA: calls 400
*** RIVER ***
Dealt to Rakewell1 [Ac Ad 6s 9d 8s Kd] [6c]
Rakewell1: bets 400
KTFUMA: folds
Uncalled bet (400) returned to Rakewell1
*** SHOW DOWN ***
Rakewell1: shows [Ac Ad 6s 9d 8s Kd 6c] (Lo: K,9,8,6,A)
Rakewell1 collected 2406 from side pot-2
DwnAndDrty: shows [7s 8c 6h 2h 5s Qd 2c] (Lo: 8,7,6,5,2)
DwnAndDrty collected 831 from side pot-1
DeJaBlue2u: shows [6d 7d Th Qh Js Qs 9h] (Lo: J,T,9,7,6)
DwnAndDrty collected 1480 from main pot
*** SUMMARY ***
Total pot 4717 Main pot 1480. Side pot-1 831. Side pot-2 2406. Rake 0
Seat 1: Grozamolnia folded on the 3rd Street (didn't bet)
Seat 2: DwnAndDrty showed [7s 8c 6h 2h 5s Qd 2c] and won (2311) with Lo: 8,7,6,5,2
Seat 4: Rakewell1 (button) showed [Ac Ad 6s 9d 8s Kd 6c] and won (2406) with Lo: K,9,8,6,A
Seat 5: DeJaBlue2u showed [6d 7d Th Qh Js Qs 9h] and lost with Lo: J,T,9,7,6
Seat 7: KTFUMA folded on the River

"Oh yeah"

OK, one last Rio story from tonight's session.

I told you in the last post about the guy who was sitting on my right. This story is about the guy on my left. He was nice enough, and perfectly polite, but, well, not too bright. He revealed this at many times, in many ways. For example, after burning through about $400 in an hour, mostly with bad calls, he said, twice, "I'm forced to play bad cards now. I don't have any choice. It's the only way I can get my money back. I have to do it."

This, of course, is the kind of player I want to find every time I sit down. Unfortunately, I didn't get my fair share of his chips before he went completely broke. I won only one sizable pot, and that was by picking off an unconvincing river bluff. I did it with no pair, just ace-high. (I'm still patting myself on the back for that, as you might have guessed.)

Anyway, there was a woman at the table having one of those unbelievable streaks of luck. She was not a good player, though the guy my story is about was in awe of her. (Much later, when a new player tangled with her, my village idiot even whispered to me, "He has no idea how good she is." I had to stifle a laugh.) Her basic strategy was to play any two suited cards, for any price, muck if she didn't flop a flush or flush draw, and call any bet until she made her flush--which she did an astonishing percentage of the time. Even when she missed, she did things like back into a straight or two pair with what were, of course, completely unreadable hands, so that it looked like she was bluffing with a missed flush draw. Her bet sizing had no discernible rationale to it; she would bet $50 into an $8 pot, or $8 into a $50 pot. But she hit her hands with such unreal frequency that she cleaned up. She made at least $700 in the three hours or so I was watching her. It's not a strategy that can win over the long haul, but it was truly her lucky night.

Anyway, in one hand the flop was Q-Q-4. She bet, and all five or six opponents folded. She smiled and showed her pocket fours, for a flopped full house.

I grinned at her and said, with what I thought was obvious understatement, "I think you might have had the best hand there."

The Idiot speaks up: "No, Q-4 would have been the best hand."

I look at him. He is not joking. He is incapable of irony; it's about seven levels of thinking beyond his capacity.

He's clearly expecting me to respond. I'm stymied at first, not knowing quite what to say. Not only has he mistaken my comment about who at the table had the best hand for a remark about what the nuts theoretically would have been, but he has even that wrong.

Then, apparently because I wasn't giving him his dues for figuring it out, he repeated his observation: "Q-4 would have been the best hand." (He was saying this quietly, just to me--the room was noisy enough that nobody else heard our conversation.)

So I feel obligated to say something. I can't agree with him, and he's not going to let me get away without responding. So I point out, "Well, pocket queens would actually have been the best hand."

There is silence. He cocks his head back, looks up toward the ceiling with a furrowed brow, apparently deep in thought. I swear I'm not making this up: he holds this pose for about five seconds, before looking at me again. "Oh yeah. That would be better."

There's another bit of awkward silence. I break it and let him off the hook by saying, "But I just meant that I think she must have had the best hand at the table, not the absolutely best possible hand." This is calculated to give us something to agree on, and pull the discussion away from his error, so that the exchange ends pleasantly and sociably. He quickly echoes his agreement that she probably did have the best hand there, and by now we both have the cards for our next hand, and can move past the awkwardness.

Of course, maybe he didn't sense any awkwardness. I can't tell.

You know that old saying, "Better to keep your mouth closed and be thought a fool than to open it and remove all doubt"? Whoever coined that (and it's not at all clear who actually did) had, I suspect, met this player, and had him specifically in mind.


(In re-reading this, I see that my storytelling has once again fallen into a bit of grammatical ugliness--specifically, I have woven back and forth between past tense and present tense. I'm aware that I do this sometimes. It's never intentional, because, well, it's just plain bad writing to do that, and I wouldn't deliberately employ bad writing, except as a sort of special effect, which this isn't. But once something is written that way, it's a lot of work to go back and fix it, and, well, sometimes it's too late at night or I'm just too lazy or uncaring. So I apologize for this lapse in the writing craft. I apologize for this post, for all the previous posts that I have written and left in a similar sorry state, and for all future ones in which it may happen again. For the most part, this is first-draft writing, folks. I try to fix the obvious goofs, but a lot slide by, since I have no editor but myself. This note is just to let you all know that I'm embarrassed by the mistakes, including the confusing indecisiveness in verb tenses. I'm just not quite embarrassed enough to do anything about it, beyond acknowledging it with this half-assed explanation.)

"You deserved to lose!"

I was playing at the Rio tonight. The guy on my immediate right was a jerk to everyone.

The height of it came in one crucial hand. I don't remember the exact betting sequence, nor the exact board cards. Trust me, the details aren't too important. But I had J-10 offsuit, and the flop had been 10-9-x, rainbow. He had raised before the flop, but he was doing this with maybe a third of his hands, so it didn't mean much. I had called from the button.

On the flop, he checked, I bet, he called. The turn was a 5, I think. He checked, I bet again. He thought a bit, then moved all in for $71 more.

This gave me pause. I had him covered, but this was an overbet of the pot. I don't like committing a lot of chips with just top pair. But it was hard to give him credit for a bigger hand. I rolled through the hands that would have me beat, and there just wasn't anything that really fit what the betting had been. I couldn't completely rule out a flopped set, but I didn't get any sort of vibe from him of that kind of strength. I had been playing with him for a couple of hours, and had seen him when he had the nuts, and, though I couldn't list specifics, his whole gestalt radiance was just completely different than what he was showing me now. Furthermore, the only other time I had seen him aggressively move all in had been a bluff; when he was really strong, he tended to make small value bets.

I didn't rush this. I took at least a full minute thinking it through, and finally concluded that I probably had the best hand. If I was wrong, OK, but I thought the chances of being ahead were high enough to be worth the call. I counted out the chips and pushed them in.

The river was another 9. I wasn't going to show my cards until he either showed or mucked, because he was one of these jerks who never want to show, trying to just wait out the other guy, hoping he'll show first. Well, I have the patience of Job in that situation. We can sit there all night if that's what it takes.

It didn't take all night, but he did take at least a full ten seconds before he finally exposed his cards: A-9 of clubs. He had had just second pair, no flush or straight draw, then hit his miracle river card. He had had five outs when the money went in. I showed my cards, as kind of a message to him and the table that I had had him thoroughly nailed.

OK, so I made the right read, had the courage to back it up with my chips, and got unlucky. It's annoying, but it happens--just part of the game. I would normally not say a word. But he had irked me with how long he took to get it over with. I'm emotionally cool enough that I don't sit there on pins and needles, in agony over whether I won or not. I either won or lost, nothing I can do about it, and ten seconds out of my life is pretty paltry. So if he was trying to make me fret and sweat, it failed.

Still, rude is rude, and what he did is generally considered one of the most unforgiveable breaches of etiquette one can pull at a poker table. I hate people that waste everybody's time for no reason.

So I said, "Nice slowroll," as I pull out another C-note. (He didn't break me, but it got me below the amount I like to have in play.) He said, "What do you mean?" I can't really believe he didn't understand the term; he has played in the WSOP, and certainly has enough experience to know what I meant. But I played along: "How long does it take you to show your cards?"

His response was bizarre: "I had all my chips out there already. What else was I supposed to do?"

So at this point we seem to be talking past each other. I have no idea what his chips had to do with it. But I decide it's not worth pursuing, and tell him, "Never mind."

He doesn't want to drop it, though. He says, "Anyway, what the hell are you doing calling with jack-ten there? You deserved to lose, making a call for that much money with that!"

Now this amuses me. When people reveal a level of stupidity beyond what I had judged them capable of, it always amuses me. I said, "So I shouldn't have put my money in with the best hand, huh?"

He said, "Not with that! You don't call that much with just a pair!"

I actually laughed at him. Sorry--couldn't help it. It was so absurd. This idiot genuinely believes, apparently, that the right way to make a call decision is based on the dollar amount involved and the absolute strength of one's hand. But I think it's safe to say that prevailing wisdom is that what really matters is the strength of one's hand relative to that of the opponent--which is exactly what I had spent all that time pondering.

His comment ended our lovely little chat, because I realized I was in a battle of wits with an unarmed man. I just chuckled at him, said, "OK, dude" and broke it off. He repeated something about what a bad call I had made, and I just smiled.

Morons and jerks are everywhere, often rolled up inside the same body. Can't do anything about it other than laugh.

Mr. Helpful

Friday night I was at the Venetian, as previously mentioned. There was another player at the table who is worthy of being memorialized here, for good or ill--mostly the latter.

When you get a seat in a poker room, in some places you buy chips from the dealer. In others they sell you chips at the check-in desk. In some you have to make a detour to the cashier's window for chips before taking your seat. And in yet others you sit down and they have a chip runner make the trek to the cashier for you. The Venetian uses the last approach. That means that for the first hand or two, you play without chips. Whatever you may lose, you have to make up to the winner of the hand(s) when your chips arrive. (One time, though, I had the pleasure of doubling up on my first hand there. The chip runner was very confused when she arrived back from the cage and I already had a stack of chips sitting in front of me.)

My first hand, I was the big blind. I know the drill. Even if I don't play the hand, I'll owe $2 to whoever takes the pot. But there was a guy on my immediate left who couldn't leave it at that. Without asking, he takes $50 in chips from his stack and plops them down in front of me. "I'm lending you $50," he says. I don't need it, and frankly I'd rather handle it in the usual way. Among other potential problems, the dealer didn't see this exchange, and will have to wonder where those chips came from. (It's against the rules for one player to give chips to another, because if somebody needs chips, the casino wants to sell them to the person in need, thus putting more money into play and increasing their revenue.) You can also imagine this causing problems if he later claims that he gave me $60, or whatever. I don't say anything about his pushy "helpfulness," but I also don't put a chip out for my big blind, preferring not to touch the chips he has given me if possible. It all got worked out quickly, and didn't end up being anything more than a minor annoyance, but it was my first taste of how intrusive this guy was going to be about everything.

He was the self-appointed table captain, though not in the usual way that term is used, with respect to dominating the action with aggressive betting. He was actually a fairly weak player. But his demeanor and actions in regard to what was happening at the table were clearly designed to convey that he knew what was going on better than anybody else.

Whenever a question arose--where is the action, what is the bet, how many chips does that guy have left, stuff like that--Mr. Helpful was the first to pipe up with the answer. If a player had a question about what his options were or what the correct procedure was for handling some situation, Mr. Helpful was right there. After all, obviously the dealer can't handle such complicated matters nearly as well as he could.

One time when I made a bet of $35, with the seven red chips in one stack, Mr. Helpful reached out and broke the stack down into two stacks of three each and one separate. He commented to me, "That way it's easier for them to see how much it is."

Yeah, well, I understand that. But there's a reason I do it the way I do. I'm not trying to be an obstructionist, but if the amount is not entirely obvious to an opponent across the table, he will need to ask the dealer for a count of the bet, and in the way he asks for a count, the way he watches the dealer count it, and the way responds to the dealer's answer, there is often useful information about his reaction to the bet--that is, is he eager to call, reluctant to call, pondering a raise, perhaps? Mr. Helpful stepping in takes away that potential bit of revelation.

Moreover, it is generally considered very rude to touch another player's cards or chips. It doesn't happen often, but you never know when some scam artist will palm a chip or two off the top when handling them, or miscount and thus cause a problem, or topple a tall stack that then falls into the pot, making it impossible to know the bet size. (The only time I do it is if a player is habitually not placing the items within the dealer's reach, even after being asked to do so. In that situation, if I can do it easily, I'll give the chips or cards a quick flick towards the center with an open hand.)

So I didn't appreciate Mr. Helpful stepping in, but I don't want to speak in the middle of a hand, and I don't want to generate animosity with a guy I have to sit next to, so I don't say anything about it.

Mr. Helpful reminds me a lot of Pauli Gualtieri from "The Sopranos." He's about that age. He has apparently taken up bodybuilding late in life, and loves showing off his muscles. He's wearing a skin-tight shirt with almost no sleeves, made of black Lyrca, or some such silly, thin, stretchy fabric, plus a ridiculous amount of cheap, fake bling, including a hugely oversized cross on a thick gold chain. He has a meticulously trimmed moustache, which looked like it belonged on one of the Village People. As you might expect from this personality type, he's full of stupid self-indulgent stories about his life, his bad beats, his money, his adventures, etc. The earbuds went in a lot earlier than they usually do, with this bozo on my left. It was worse with us being in seats 9 and 10, because he had nobody (except the dealer) on his other side to make a victim of his ramblings.

If you were to ask this guy why he injects himself into every tiny question that arises at the table, he would insist that he's just trying to be helpful. He might even believe that himself. But if so, it's self-delusion. Combined with the other aspects of his personality I described, it's perfectly apparent that what really matters to him is being noticed, being admired, being seen as the guy who has been there/done that and knows how everything works.

To be sure, there is a lot about casino poker that can be confusing and/or intimidating to a newcomer, and it's good to have more experienced players willing to step in and lend a little help when it's called for. But you have to be careful about this, for several reasons. First, it's better, overall, if the new player develops the habit of asking his questions to the dealer rather than to other players. Second, it's easy to accidentally cross the line and give more help than is proper. Third, just like guys who won't stop to ask for directions untill they've driven off the pier into the Atlantic Ocean, some people deeply resent being given assistance they didn't ask for, because it chips away at their masculinity and independence. I flatter myself that I have a pretty good sense of which pieces of advice are OK and when they will or will not be welcomed, but maybe I'm more oblivious to people's feelings that I know. Regardless, this guy was like a bull in a china shop* with his aggressively invasive advice, without respect to whether the player involved either wanted or needed his help. It was pretty obnoxious.

Mr. Helpful's veneer of excessive friendliness was proven to be a sham, a cover for deep-seated personal insecurities, when he started losing and went on Super Monkey Tilt. The first evidence of this was when Seat 5 opened up and he wanted to move there. Because of where the button was, this meant that he had to post the amount of the big blind.** He got into a huge argument with the dealer about this, insisting that he knew this was wrong because at his home casino they wouldn't make a player post in this situation. (House rules do indeed vary quite a bit on this point.) From the glances and rolled eyes and head shakes exchanged around the table it was clear that the universal opinion was this: Dude, it's two friggin' dollars--either shut up and pay it, or go back to your previous seat, but stop holding up the damn game.

The same dealer ended up in another argument with Mr. Helpful a short time later. I don't remember the preflop and flop action, because nothing about them caught my attention. (I wasn't involved.) But it was Mr. Helpful and a guy two seats to his left, who was a scary-solid player. On the turn, Mr. Helpful bet $70, leaving himself exactly $2 behind--a pretty silly move in itself. He had unimproved aces. Mr. Solid had flopped a set, as it turned out, so one way or another all of the money was going in here. Mr. Solid saw the bet, had the dealer count it out, noticed that Mr. Helpful had just $2 left, and therefore pushed out a stack of exactly 25 red chips--$75--obviously assuming that Mr. Helpful would just toss in his last $2, he'd get $3 change, and they'd quickly finish up the hand. The dealer told Mr. Helpful, "He's putting you all in."

Mr. Helpful protested. "He can't do that. That's not a legal raise." Well, technically this is true. A full raise would have to be to $140, and when Mr. Solid put out an amount slightly greater than the bet he was facing, the usual ruling would be that it was just a call. But in this specific situation, where it was only these two players involved, and Mr. Solid was obviously just trying to find the least complicated way of getting the last of the chips in, it was a completely bogus, absurd, hypertechnical complaint. The dealer tried to explain it, but Mr. Helpful was adamant in his protest. Mr. Solid, a quiet, thoughtful, smart guy, quickly relented, so as to de-escalate the confrontation. "That's fine, you can just leave it as a call." He took back one redbird.

So that's what they did. But it was completely stupid, because there was another card to come and another round of betting, so even if Mr. Helpful wanted to save his last $2 for some idiotic reason, Mr. Solid, acting last, would still have the option of making a $2 bet on the river, which Mr. Helpful would basically have to call anyway. As it happened, Mr. Helpful made the bet himself on the river, and, of course, got called, and, of course, lost. Mr. Helpful couldn't just let it go, but continued well after the hand was over to engage the dealer in an argument about how that bet should have been handled. He said, "I'm a dealer, too. I know how these things work." Utterly pointless. Unfortunately, the dealer was not level-headed enough to just shut up and ignore the rantings, but took the bait and continued the argument, thus delaying the start of the next hand for another minute or two of aggressive penis-wagging (which I understand will be an official Olympic event in 2012). I hope they enjoyed themselves.

Unlike my usual approach to story-telling, I don't really have a meaningful larger point to be made here. I just thought this guy was enough of a ludicrous tool that readers might find it amusing to read about him. The world is full of strange characters, and the poker rooms of Vegas seem to attract them in droves.



*BTW, this expression turns out not to be very accurate. For one of most surprising results in the history of "Mythbusters," one of my favorite TV shows, see here for what actually happens when you put bulls in a china shop.

**Simplified explanation: If you change seats in such a way that you will end up in the big blind sooner than you would have if you stayed put, there is no problem. But if you move in such a way that it delays your big blind by more than one or two spots, you have to post the amount of the big blind upon moving. This is to deter nits from moving around the table over and over again in an attempt to avoid paying the blind. Yeah, there really are people out there who would do that, if allowed to get away with it.

Tales from the Excalibur

1. Huge change in the works

The way I pick a room to play in on any given day is largely arbitrary, involving a lot of eeney-meeney-miney-moe. So it was purely a coincidence that I was at the Excalibur this evening when I learned that they had made a huge announcement earlier in the day: They will be closing their traditional poker tables and going to all electronic (apparently Poker Tek brand) tables. Apparently August 18 will be the last day of poker the old-fashioned way, and August 22 the first day of operation of the new wave.

I was excited to be the first to publicize this news, but when I got home a short time ago, I checked http://www.allvegaspoker.com/, and sure enough, there have already been two threads started about it, here and here. It's tough to beat that site for poker room news, when they have several hundred pairs of eyes and ears all over town, alert for just this sort of thing.

The comments there are nearly all laments. I don't share those views, at least not entirely. Poker needs growth and experimentation and differentiation. There may well be a market niche for this. People who are comfortable playing online but are intimidated by sitting down in a casino for the first time may find this a nice intermediate step.

Some will consider me a traitor and/or a fool, but if the games stay as soft and profitable there as they traditionally have been, I'll keep patronizing the Excalibur (assuming that I don't hate the electronic tables--and I have no reason to think that I will). Heck, they might even have a lower rake, with no dealers to pay. Tipping dealers constitutes a pretty small percentage of my poker income, but I can't say I'd object to pocketing that extra $10 or $20 per session. (That's just an offhand guess; I've never tried keeping track of what it amounts to.)

I welcome pretty much any innovation that keeps variety in how the game is offered to customers. I think it is silly doomsday posturing to say that this portends the beginning of the end of poker as we have known it. No, it's just an experiment. (To be clear, I haven't heard anybody at MGM or the Excalibur say that it's an experiment, but practically everything new in casinos is. If something new doesn't bring in good money, they get rid of it. If it makes them more profit, they enlarge and duplicate it. That's an experiment, in my book. This is the same deal.) If it doesn't bring in a lot of money, they'll dump it and other rooms won't be encouraged to copy the idea. (I think MGM has an exclusive license for installing the machines in Vegas anyway.) And if it does bring in lots of money, that will be because the poker-playing public finds it enjoyable, for whatever reason. That can't be a bad thing. What Vegas really doesn't need are 50-55 rooms all offering the same thing. Variety is good.

Incidentally, I have also heard rumors that when Stations opens its newest property, the Aliante, in North Las Vegas (tentatively scheduled for November 11), it, too, will have an all-electronic poker room.

2. Funny hand

Two seats to my right was a visitor from Canada, here to celebrate his 21st birthday. He was a horrible player, just spewing money. (Welcome to gambling, young man! Please rebuy until your wallet is empty!) He also had rather unmistakable psychological problems--ADD at least, and maybe in a manic phase of bipolar disorder. I don't think it would be possible to describe him without including the word "hyper" somewhere among the adjectives: he was restless, talkative, agitated, animated. Anytime somebody won a decent-sized pot, he'd yell "WHEEEEEEEEE!"

Anyway, in one hand he and one opponent went to the flop, which was A-7-8. Mr. ADD bet $30. His opponent called. For some reason, Mr. ADD either thought that no more cards were coming or that his opponent was now all in, and turned over his pocket kings. Oops. Well, there's nothing to be done about it except keep playing out the hand. The turn card was a 9. ADD checked. His opponent--a solid, unimaginative player, whose bets had always accurately represented the strength of his hand thus far--made another bet, maybe $50. ADD called. The river was a 6, putting four to a straight and four to a flush on the board (though not one that was completed by either of ADD's kings). ADD checked. His opponent moved all in. Mr. ADD called. His opponent didn't have either the straight or the flush, but did have A-K, and won the hand.

To be sure, some players will take advantage of the exposed cards and bet as a bluff. The logic is this: I want my opponent to think that I'm not crazy enough to bet if I can see his cards and know that I have the losing hand. Therefore, he should conclude that I have the winner and fold the better hand. But given that this particular opponent was a pretty untricky guy, that he had to have something strong enough to have called a large pre-flop bet, and that he had called $30 after an ace hit the flop, it was pure kamikaze insanity for Mr. ADD to keep calling two more large bets--quite enthusiastically put out by the opponent, I should add--after his kings were revealed. Pure stubbornness on display.

I had to work pretty hard to suppress a laugh when the obvious conclusion of the opponent having a strong ace proved to be true.

3. The Grump turns junk into gold

I had A-6 offsuit in the small blind. Nobody raised, so I tossed in the extra $1. The flop was A-9-2, rainbow. I bet just under the size of the pot, and got two callers. There were no straight or flush draws, so I naturally concluded that one or both of them was/were sitting on an ace, and probably with a better kicker than mine. Oh well.

But then the turn card was another ace. Ah! I like that. Maybe only one of them has an ace, and the other hit the 9 or had a medium pocket pair to explain the call. Or, if I'm really lucky, that explains both of them, and I'm the only one with trip aces now. So I bet again to find out, this time getting only one call. Hmmm. Well, the conclusion has to be the same--he has a better ace. Oh well. Time to shut it down for this hand, check the river and hope he checks behind so that I don't have a difficult decision to make.

To my great surprise, however, the dealer found yet another ace in the deck, and added it to the board! Let's see. That's one, two, three of them out there, and one under my silver dollar. That makes four. Now I'm pretty, pretty, pretty confident that my sole remaining opponent does not have an ace of his own. The only remaining question was how much he might call. I settled on $35. He called so quickly that I regretted not trying to push it higher. He had a 9, and said that he thought that I did, too, and thought that we would be chopping the pot, even saying that he simply didn't believe I had an ace. Dang. I wish I had pushed all in, hoping that it would look like I was trying to buy the pot and push him off, and getting the hero call in response. (I consistently find that to be the most difficult decision in poker--knowing how much an opponent will call when I have an absolutely unbeatable hand.)

Excalibur is the only place in town that I know of where there is a high-hand bonus for quads and straight flushes with only one hole card playing. Unlike most rooms, where there is a progressive jackpot amount increasing daily until it is hit, at Excalibur you get to spin the wheel of fortune. There are amounts ranging from $20 to $100, as well as a "double" and a "triple" space (after hitting which you get to spin again to see what amount will be doubled or tripled). I hit $35, about an average bonus, just half a click short of the "double" slot. But it's been several months since I hit any high-hand bonus, so I was pleased with even this small amount. And I had never gotten to spin that wheel before, so it added a bit of fun to my night.



4. Odd new chip

I noticed that the dealer was using very unusual chips to do the rake. They were denominated at $2.50. I had never seen $2.50 chips before. A very nice young woman (who also happened to be a fine player) was sitting on my right. It was clear from her interactions with the dealers that she was a local and played at the Excalibur a lot more than I tend to do. She told me that they just got these new chips within the last couple of weeks.

My first impulse was to buy one from the dealer, just to have such an unusual piece in my collection. But for some reason, I was overcome with a wave of self-consciousness at being thought an oddball. (I usually fully expect to be considered an oddball, and don't let it bother me, so I can't easily explain why this stifled my action on this particular occasion.) But then this nice young woman said, "I bought one the first day I saw them, 'cause they're so unusual." Yay! A fellow oddball! I chuckled and told her that I was just thinking of doing exactly the same. And so I did.

My scanner did a horrible job capturing the color. The chip is actually an intensely bright orange, akin to reflective safety vests and flags--really quite striking, whereas my scanner somehow picked it up as a dull pink. WAY off.

Thank you, Poker Stars

A short time ago I was in a cash razz game on Poker Stars. At the table was an incredibly obnoxious boor, even by online standards. The problem wasn't so much profanity as that he was mercilessly making fun of other players for what he considered their sub-standard play. Losing a pot to him meant enduring his barbs about how badly one played, because, of course, nobody could play as well as he. (One might wonder why such a marvelously advanced player was inhabiting the lowest stakes that PS offers. But never mind that little mystery.)

For example:

ZidanEEE14: johny just please trasfer me ur money
ZidanEEE14: dont even try to play
ZidanEEE14: just send it over

ZidanEEE14: johny u relly have no idea wat ur doing
ZidanEEE14: do u?

I tried asking him to be nice, but he ignored such advice.

When for the second time a player left immediately after taking a torrent of abuse from this jerk, I copied a few of his lines, along with game numbers, and sent an email to Stars support, and told them that two players had left the table, apparently because of his taunts.

Within an hour I received back the following email:


Hello Rakewell1,

I appreciate the time you took to write us regarding your concern. As we cannot monitor every table 24 hours, we are glad to have players as our "eyes and ears".

After review of the chat log, we have decided to remove this player's chat privileges. Their language was totally inappropriate and abusive to others. Our games are to be kept clean, fun, and a comfortable environment for everyone. We cannot tolerate this type of behavior at our tables.

Regards,

Will L.

PokerStars Support Team


Just about the stupidest, most self-destructive thing you can do as a poker player trying to make money is chase away the most unskilled players by humilitating them for playing badly. They will either (1) be motivated to start playing better, thus making it harder to win their money, or (2) leave and find a friendlier place to play, taking their money with them. In addition to hurting yourself, the other players at the table will be none too thrilled with you accomplishing either one of these things, either.

It's gratifying to know that Poker Stars gets this, and will take steps to prevent it, when alerted to what's going on.

This is my official encouragement to all online players to police this kind of crap, and report it when it happens, so that these maroons will get their chat privileges suspended, and stop chasing away the little fishies.


(Today's second lesson: Do not attempt to construct a blog post while playing in a HORSE tournament. I folded a razz hand, then came here to type some. When the next hand started, I had a great opener, and got in a raising war with another guy. We capped the betting. Then I paired on 4th street, and was highly puzzled by being presented with the choice to put in a small bet or a large bet because of the pair. Yep--they had moved on to straight limit stud while I wasn't watching, and I failed to notice the game header. Had to abandon ship after pumping up the pot, and lost nearly a third of my stack in the process. D'oh!)

Gunning for the Grump

First a bit about the photograph above. I stole it from the "Literature and Poker" blog kept by Tim Peters--specifically the December 27, 2007, post. Tim is the book reviewer for Card Player magazine (his older stuff is here, but unfortunately it appears that his newer contributions there, the book reviews, don't get put up on the CP web site), and contributes to the Hard-Boiled Poker Radio Show (as do I). He doesn't post often in his blog, but when he does, it's always worth reading. He also has a knack for finding wonderful old poker photographs, postcards, etc., with which to illustrate his posts. I came across the one above just as I was mentally composing this very post, and instantly knew that it was what must accompany a post with the word "gunning" in the title.

The incident I want to tell you about actually happened several weeks ago. There is no particular reason for the delay in writing it up, other than the fact that every time I felt like blogging, there always seemed to be something else more immediate to talk about.

Anyway, I was at Planet Hollywood, and within my first few hands was dealt the A-J of diamonds. I made a standard raise, got a couple of callers. The flop brought me a royal flush draw, with the Q and 10 of diamonds, plus a blank. I made a continuation bet. A highly aggressive player at the other end of the table made a substantial raise. I had no idea what he had, but there's no way I'm folding with so many cards that will make me the nuts.

An additional incentive is this: It's not likely that I'll get the one card in the deck I need for the royal, but if I do, there's a $600 bonus the casino will pay me. I have about a 4% chance of it coming, the effect of which is the mathematical equivalent of the poker room having just dropped an extra $24 into the pot.

I'm perfectly content to get all my money in at this point, and do so. He calls. He has K-Q for top pair. The turn brings a baby diamond to complete my flush, and I double up.

None of this would be particularly unusual, except that Mr. Hothead takes the loss of the hand very, very personally. He makes a snide comment, something like, "So you like going all-in on draws, eh? Nice suckout." I ignore him and stack up the chips. (There's something about stacking an asshole's chips that makes ignoring his nastiness a whole lot easier....)

I didn't think much more about it, until the next time I put in a raise he called, and called me down all the way to the river. They were all insta-calls, glaring right at me, barely paying any attention to the cards on the board. I got the distinct impression that he was gunning for me, determined to take back what he felt were rightfully his chips.

Sure enough, for the remainder of that session, every time I limped into a pot--100%, with zero exceptions--and he had not yet acted, he would put in a large raise, and every time I was the initial raiser--100%, with zero exceptions--he would call or reraise. Furthermore, he never gave up to a bet on the flop; he would always at least see the turn card. Sometimes he would raise, sometimes just call me down.

I have never had an opponent so obviously and doggedly trying to take me down. It was actually quite amusing in how predictable he became.

Now, think about how easy this made my session. Suppose we set up an unusual set of poker rules, in which you are required to play every hand you're dealt, but I get to pick and choose whether to put my money in. Short of being allowed to see an opponent's cards, it's hard to think of a set of rules that would make my life as a player easier. Yet that's precisely the disadvantage that this moron put himself at, committing himself to playing any two cards when I was in the hand, while I could sit back and wait for premiums.

Furthermore, after the first couple of times that he raised after I limped in, it became clear that he would do this as a matter of course, so I started to limp with the biggest hands, and let him do the raising for me, disguising my strength, then nail him with a big reraise either before the flop or when the flop looked good for me.

Naturally, I didn't win every hand against him. If the flop missed me, I didn't bother with bluffing or continuation bets, because there was no getting rid of him, so I could concede them with little loss. He probably hit a few monsters along the way, but I wouldn't pay him off. In other words, I won the big pots, and he won the small ones. Seems like a good deal for me; for him, not so much. But he was the one setting the strange terms under which we played, and I wasn't inclined to renegotiate them with him, since I kept coming out ahead.

Two or three days later, I was playing at PH again when he arrived and sat down two seats to my right. He immediately asked the floor for the first available table change, and was moved within ten minutes or so. I can't be certain that he had decided he didn't want to play with me anymore, but I have my suspicions.

One of the most foolish things you can do at a poker table is target another specific player. Now, I have to qualify that assertion. Certainly one is always on the lookout for the weakest opponents, and hopes to tangle with them. But the rational way to go about this is to identify what kind of errors they tend to make, then look for or set up situations to exploit those tendencies (e.g., value-bet the calling stations, bluff the tight-weak players when scare cards come, etc.). Moreover, you don't do that for just one opponent, but for every person at the table simultaneously, so that you can make money from anybody and from a wide variety of favorable situations.

Making a mental decision that you're not going to rest until you have won the chips from a particular player is just asking for trouble, because the only way to do that is to repeatedly come after them at a disadvantage. In addition, you will waste your ammunition (chips) in these failed attempts, so that you have less available to use in what would be more advantageous situations against other opponents. It's insanity. It's ego run amok.

Mr. Hothead decided, whether consciously or not, that it was more important to win chips from me specifically than to maximize his win rate for that session, letting the chips come from where they may. Getting even with me was a higher priority than actually turning a profit for the day. I had no such inversion of goals. I was looking to make money whenever and wherever I could. As it happened, a disproportionate share of it came from Mr. Hothead, because he, more than any other player that day, repeatedly and willingly took the worst of it against me.

I'm happy to play under such conditions anytime they are offered to me. I just can't begin to grasp why he wanted to offer them.

"You don't have to explain"

Harrah's last night. I have the dealer button. The guy on my left is new to the table. After the flop, we're all waiting for him. It's not easy to tell from his body language whether he's thinking about what to do or drifting in space, unaware that it's his turn.

Finally he seems to sense that everybody is watching him, so he turns to the dealer and asks, "Is it my turn?"

The dealer doesn't just say "yes," but takes the time to point to the button, and explain, "After the flop, the person to the left of that button will always go first."

The player takes offense at this, gets into a bit of a huff, and says, "You don't have to explain everything to me. This isn't my first time."

Well, dude, if you can't figure out that it's your turn from the fact that the button is one space to your right, then, yeah, the dealer does need to explain that to you.

There's no shame in not knowing something. There is shame, however, in pretending that you understand something when you really don't.

Chop chop

Last night at the Luxor I saw that rare species of bird, the Conditional Chopper.

Some background, for those who don't play in casinos regularly: Occasionally the pre-flop action is a hold'em game is fold-fold-fold all away around to the two blinds. Most poker rooms offer to let the players in the blinds agree to just take back their proferred chips, pretend that the hand played out, move the dealer button forward, and go on to the next hand. The only Vegas casino I can recall offhand that does not allow this is Mandalay Bay.

When I first started playing live poker, I was a purist on this point and considered it scandalous that we would consider not playing the hand. Over time, I learned why it's done. Basically, it's a waste of time. In order to make any money on a hand, two players must each have a hand they consider worth investing in. It's rare that both players in the blinds meet that condition. Usually either they both have trash or only one of them has cards that he likes. If they are forced to play it out (such as at Mandalay), usually a pre-flop raise by one player will end it, and if not, usually a bet on the flop will, or they both just check-check-check all the way. In each of those common outcomes, the winner profits $2, minus any house rake and tip.

Unwritten etiquette is that if you and the person you'll be making this decision with are going to chop, you do it every time, regardless of what cards you're dealt (though some will make an exception if they have, e.g., two parts of a royal flush, and there's a big jackpot they want a chance to hit--in which case they'll say something to that effect explicitly). I've heard that at least one room in town forces such consistency as a rule, but I can't remember which place people have said that about, and I've never seen anybody try to enforce it.

Personally, I don't much care which way we go. My default is to go for the chop, but if the other guy wants to play (maybe he's in Vegas for only a short time and wants to play every hand he can, or maybe he likes getting practice at one-on-one play), that's OK with me, too.

But once in a while, you run into somebody who wants selectivity. That's what happened last night.

We were playing shorthanded because several players had left all at once. The first time a chop opportunity arose, I was in the small blind. I was in the 10 seat, so I leaned around the dealer to catch the eye of the guy in the 1 seat, and asked, "Wanna chop it?" He grinned and said "No way," quite emphatically. OK by me. I had something dumb like a Q-4 offsuit, and tossed in the extra dollar. As I sort of expected, he raised by another $5. Fine. The flop missed me completely. I checked, he bet, I folded. He proudly showed the J-10 of hearts, giving him a flush draw on the flop. He said to me, "Sorry. Usually I would chop, but not with this kind of hand." That was my first indication that his intention was to agree to a chop selectively, based on his cards. He apparently thinks suited J-10 is too precious a gem to waste. Idiot.

Because of the noise level at Luxor and the dealer sitting between us, it was impractical to engage in conversation with him. I knew that he would eventually figure out that I was going to hold him to playing it out every time, now that he had set the precedent.

If I had been sitting next to him, I would have asked him, "So you're planning to agree to chop when you don't have a strong starting hand, but play it out when you do have a strong hand, is that right?" Presumably he would say yes.

Then I would ask him the question that had apparently not entered his thick skull: "Why on earth would I agree to terms like that, which always favor you?"

The next time the situation arose, I had Q-Q in the small blind. This was great, because I thought he might read my raise as being just revenge, not reflecting real strength, and play back at me with nothing. He called, but then folded to my bet on the flop, which meant that we each netted zero from the exchange. Soon after, the table broke up as we were moved to other tables.

Great comeback

This happened a couple of months ago, but I was just reminded of it, and I didn't post it at the time. Better late than never.

Playing hold'em at Suncoast (I'm not in this hand), the final board was 2-4-8-9-Q, with no flush possible. The two-way action on the river was big bet and a call. The bettor turned over two pair. The caller turned over J-10, for the nuts. Somebody asked him why he didn't raise. He said, "I thought he (pointing to his lone opponent) might have the higher straight."

A smartass at the end of the table said, "Right. If he had the jack, ten, AND king in his hand, he would have had you beat."

Officially, of course, I must express my strong disapproval of such comments. First, we don't want to smarten up the clueless players and make them harder to beat. Second, making somebody feel stupid at the table is likely to result in him picking up his chips and leaving a lot sooner than he otherwise would.

But I've gotta admit, it was very, very funny.

Bluetooth addicts

I secretly snapped this photo at the poker desk at the Riviera last night. See that Bluetooth headset the guy is wearing? He was just concluding at least two hours of poker with that thing stuck in/on his ear the whole time. He was at the next table over, so I can't be sure, but I never noticed him acting as if he were taking a phone call at any point.

I suspect that the image such people wish to project is one of great self-importance. "I'm in such demand that I can't even be bothered to take my cell phone off of my belt when a call comes in."

I'm sure that these devices are extremely useful for people in some specific situations, such as needing to use both hands to enter data on a computer while on the phone with a customer. But to wear it through a long poker session at a casino is ludicrous. It reeks of a fragile ego that needs to be boosted by silly status symbols.

Here's an idea: When you go to play poker, play poker. Let other stuff go. It's fine to leave your cell phone on (I do), but remember that you do have voice mail. You can let most of your calls go there and deal with them later. Really--not everything is urgent in life. And since you're going to step away from the table to take the rare call that is worthy of immediate attention (you are going to step away, aren't you? Or do you think that we're all vitally interested in what groceries your wife is asking you to pick up on the way home?), you really don't need the telephone hanging from your ear for hours at a stretch, do you? Or perhaps you enjoy looking that dorky?

(Incidentally, for one of the best stories ever of public cell phone use, see http://hardboiledpoker.blogspot.com/2007/05/shamus-in-vegas-episode-9-what-happens.html.)



Below is a bonus photo of yours truly, looking suave and sophisticated and important with my own Bluetooth thingy. It came free with my cell phone. I put it on just for this picture, then put it back in its box and in the closet--never inserted a battery in it or synced it to the phone. I just don't need it.

(Close observers may notice that this is the first time a photograph has appeared in a post at some point other than the top. I just now figured out how to move it to a different spot! Woohoo! Another breakthrough for your techno-challenged author!)

"That guy didn't bet his full house!"

Last story from tonight's session at the Rio.

I'm in the small blind of a $1-$3 no-limit hold'em game. I have a J-2, an awful, despicable hand. But about five other players limp in ahead of me, so the pot odds are probably right to throw another $2 at this trash in the hopes of hitting something juicy, like two pairs. The big blind checks behind me.

The flop is Q-Q-J. Yuck. It gets checked all around. Everybody who doesn't have a queen in his hand is suspicious that somebody else does have one and is lurking like a snake in the grass, waiting for somebody else to bet, so he can pounce on it with a raise.

The turn card is another jack. This is interesting, because now I have a full house, jacks full of queens. But, of course, I'm crushed if anybody was, in fact, slow-playing a queen, because he would now have queens full of jacks. Nevertheless, there's a decent chance that nobody is sitting on a queen. So I bet $10. I get called by the guy two seats to my right (in the cutoff seat).

At this point, I naturally assume that he has either a queen or a jack, and I see no point in wasting any more money on this hand. The river card is a meaningless brick. I check, and my last remaining opponent checks behind me. He has A-4, giving him the two pair on the board with an ace kicker.

Before he sees my cards, he says, "We must be chopping it up." In other words, he concluded that I must have an ace, too. When he sees my full house, his eyes bug out. "You didn't bet that????" (Yes, there were actually four question marks in his voice. Precisely. I counted them.) He laughed, and then I heard him turning to the people on his right, and he said to them, "That guy didn't bet his full house!" To him, it was abdunantly clear that I was the dumbest poker player the world had ever produced. He added, though, "I guess it doesn't matter--I wouldn't have called another bet anyway."

I don't give poker lessons at the table, but I don't mind giving them to my faithful readers. (I'm confident that many readers will already understand the logic behind checking instead of betting there, but surely this will be a new concept to at least some.)

Betting on the river would be a classic example of what is technically known as a "zero-equity bet." Putting it more colloquially, it is commonly said that in that situation, "You'll only get called if you're beat."

My oh-so-knowledgeable opponent appears to have had at least a glimmer of insight into this, when he said that he wouldn't have called another bet on the river. Presumably, he would correctly interpret such a bet to mean that I had either a jack or a queen, and from his point of view it wouldn't matter whether I had the big full house or the little one, because he would lose either way if he called.

If my opponent had a jack, then he would probably call, and we would just split the pot, meaning that the river bet gained me no profit. If, though, he had a queen, he would raise, and I would be forced to either fold, thus wasting whatever I had bet, or make a bad call, and lose even more.

The only way I make money with a bet on the end there is if I'm up against a complete novice (or drunk) who has absolutely no clue what he's doing, or, possibly, a timid player who would fold a jack. But it's far more likely that my opponent has a queen than that either of these scenarios is happening. In other words, if I bet there every time over the course of 100 such situations, I will lose that bet to a guy with a queen more times than I will get called by a guy with no full house, or win the whole pot (rather than splitting it) from a guy with a jack. In the long run, betting at that point costs me money. It gains me nothing.

There are only two reasons to bet in poker after all the cards have been dealt out: To get a weaker hand to call, and to get a stronger hand to fold. There are no other useful goals for betting the river (assuming that you're playing in order to make money, rather than for reasons of ego, etc.). In the situation described, there is no hand stronger than my full house that will fold, and no hand weaker than mine that will call, assuming that the opponent is not a blithering idiot.

But the guy at the table tonight can't think that deeply about the game. He's what we call a "level one" player, focused only on what the cards are. To him, the logic is this: "I have a full house! That's a great hand! I'm going to bet!" The analysis stops there.

At the risk of sounding self-absorbed, it is very, very good for me that the poker rooms of this city teem with players whose thinking is that shallow. They keep my bills paid. At the same time, though, it's a little sad that there are so many people who put so little thought into a game that so richly rewards deep pondering with both intellectual satifsaction and monetary gains. (Not that this particular concept is really deep. It's not quite Poker 101, but thinking about why one should or should not bet in a given spot is certainly not much further along than, say, Poker 201.)

Hand-guessing quiz

OK, kiddies, time for a test!

Don't worry, it's only for fun.

I witnessed a hand at the Palms tonight in which I thought one player's hand was perfectly obvious, but the other was a completely mystery. That doesn't happen often. See if you can figure it out better than I did.

I had only been playing for maybe 30 or 45 minutes when this occurred. Player A is a stereotypical rock, the oldest and tightest player at the table. He has the biggest stack at the table, starting this hand with about $1200. Player B is an enigma to me. He has won a good number of hands with large bets on the river that opponents are unwilling to call, so he has had to show almost nothing, which means that I don't have a good sense if he is a frequent bluffer. He doesn't handle himself like a pro, but is by no means new to the game. I suppose if I had to classify him at this point, I would have thought him either an experienced tourist or a better-than-average local--but, as I said, that wasn't based on seeing his showdowns, so I had a lot of room for doubt there. He started this hand with what looks like maybe $350.

Player A is under the gun (first to act). He puts in a raise to $18 in a $1-3 no-limit hold'em game. This is a little larger than this table's average opening raise, which has usually been $12-$15. This was the first time I had seen him put in a pre-flop raise. Everybody folds except for Player B, who is in the big blind. He seems fairly reluctant to make the call, but does. After this point, I don't have anything that I would consider a reliable physical tell on how either player behaves during the hand, so I'll just not say any more about that aspect of things.

The flop is 2-2-4 rainbow. Player B bets $10. A calls. The turn card is an offsuit K (suits are irrelevant here; I'll give you that much as a hint). B bets $20. A raises to $70. B calls. The river card is another 4, giving us a final board of 2-2-4-K-4. B checks. A goes all-in. B quickly calls.

This is the point at which I was so confident of A's hand that I even did something very rare for me: I pointed at him and announced his hand out loud before either of them had shown. I was right. But B was a mystery to me.

Take a minute and see what you think before scrolling down.








Player A had pocket kings, making kings full of 4s. His pre-flop raise presumably hoped to chase out any weak aces. He missed the flop, but B's pre-flop call was so tentative and his bet so small that A was naturally going to at least call and see what developed. Then he hit his gin card on the turn, making the best possible full house. That's when he turned up the heat on his opponent. When the river double-paired the board, he probably guessed that Player B had made a smaller full house and would call off all of his chips. He only had to fear pocket 2s and pocket 4s.

Player B had pocket 3s. You might want to read that again. Pocket 3s. On the river he called off over $200 in the hope that his Rock-of-Gibraltar opponent was just playing the board--because he could beat almost nothing else! If A had, maybe, A-Q, his 3s would be good, but that was just not a plausible scenario, and it was the only way he could have won the pot. I could have fallen off my chair when I saw what he had.

I've previously described what I thought was the worst call ever (see http://pokergrump.blogspot.com/2007/07/worst-call-ever-non-grumpy-content.html). This one is in contention for the same award. I have no idea what he was thinking. He sheepishly got up and left the game.

So how did you do? My guess is that nobody correctly named what Player B was holding--because he's a friggin' IDIOT, playing completely irrationally, and it's impossible to put such a player on a hand!

Thanks for taking our quiz.

Addendum

As several commenters pointed out, in the original post I accidentally switched A and B in the middle of the hand. Oops. Sorry about that. When I started writing it I knew that was going to happen, because their order of acting was different before the flop and after the flop. I blew it anyway, in spite of warning myself not to! I've fixed it now.

Addendum, January 17, 2007

Another commenter today said that I still had things messed up between A and B. I checked, and he was right--I had them reversed in the answer section. Good grief. My apologies. Now it's correct.

Count me out

Recently I've been stuck playing more limit games than I usually do, and particularly $4-$8 limit. The same thing happens every time, and it makes me crazy.

It seems that nobody catches on to the fact that the bets are going to be $4 and $8 every time, and that, as a result, it is possible to have those bet amounts prepared in advance. No. Instead, nearly every player, when the action is on him, takes a stack of chips and drops them onto the table immediately in front of him, one at a time. 1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8. Then he's not completely sure he has it right, so he puts down the stack in his hand, splits the new stack he has created into two halves, checking to be sure each has four in it, then finally pushes them forward to make his bet or call. This gets repeated for each player who wants in on the fun.

When the half-kill is on and the game jumps to $6-$12, it's truly like the Chinese water torture. 1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8...9...10...11...12. I swear that some of these players have to take off their shoes and socks to count that high.

Seriously, the game would go about 50% faster if all of the players just did one simple thing: have a few bets' worth of chips counted out and stacked in advance. Being a tad on the compulsive side, I tend to keep all of my chips in stacks of 4 and 8 when I'm playing a $4-$8 game. When there get to be too many chips for that to work without taking over all of the surface area I have in front of me, I make a bunch of stacks of 16, too, which break down readily into 8s if I lose a big pot and need more 8-chip stacks. When it's my turn, it takes no time or effort at all to grab one or two sets of either 4 or 8 chips and push them forward. Bang--I'm done. On to the next player.

The only down side to this is that if I'm interested in knowing my current total chip count, I have to add up the stacks and multiply by 8 in my head instead of 10 or 20. But so what? I'm only doing that when I'm between hands and have nothing else to be doing anyway. Besides, in a limit game my total chip count is pretty unimportant strategically (as opposed to a no-limit game, where stack size is always a critical factor in decisions); it's only idle curiosity about how much I'm up or down for the session, and that takes a back seat to speed and efficiency of play. My long-term goal is income in dollars per hour, so more hands per hour means a higher rate of return for my time investment.

Another advantage is that firing out bets faster than other players conveys a sense of confidence. It adds at least a modicum of intimidation factor. It passes the action on to the next player a little faster than he's really used to.

So can anybody explain to me why virtually nobody in limit games takes the simple expedient of pre-sizing their bets and having them ready in advance? It's such an obvious time-saver. If people were generally using the chip-counting time to think about what to do--i.e., check, bet, call, or raise--I could understand it, but that's clearly not what's going on, because you see them sit and think for a bit, mentally settle on a course of action, then grab the chips and start the slow counting thing.

What would be even better is the casino making available $3 and $6 chips for a 3-6 game, $4 and $8 chips for a 4-8 game, etc. (Lots of places have $4 chips, which they mainly use for taking the $4-max rake, but they don't sell them to players at the cage.) It would mean more hands per hour, which means more house rake and more tips for the dealers.

Oh, and if you can't bring yourself to keep some stacks in the amounts that the bets are going to be, you could at least verbalize your actions. Just say "bet" or "call" or "raise," then take whatever time you need to count out the chips, while the action moves on.

Sadly, I'm sure that very few players--and no casinos--will hear my plea and change their ways, and the next time I play limit, I'll once again be pulling out what little hair I have left, as hand after hand, bet after bet, player after player, I have to endure the agonizingly slow counting of the chips.

1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8.

Mesquite-flavored poker. Part 3--Oasis

The room

As suggested by the security guy at Virgin River (see http://pokergrump.blogspot.com/2007/12/mesquite-flavored-poker-part-2-virgin.html), I drove over to the Oasis. Once again, I was favorably impressed with a Mesquite poker room. It's surprisingly large (I counted 15 tables), plenty of space between tables, elevated from the casino floor level. It's open to the casino floor, but far enough away from things that smoke and noise are minimal. I love the maroon-colored felt on the tables.

When I walked in at about 5:00 pm, they were just breaking up the only game they had going, so it looked like I wouldn't get to play. But the floor guy suggested that I try the 6:00 tournament. I wasn't really in the mood for a tourney, but I was hungry and had to eat, so the timing would be about right. I grabbed a magazine from the rack and went to Denny's (inside the casino). Finished just in time to sign up for the tournament.

The tournament

This was a rebuy event. I've done lots of tournaments with one rebuy, but I don't think I've ever played in an unlimited-rebuy one. There's a reason I avoid them: the ability to rebuy cheaply mostly takes away one of the tactics I rely on most, which is forcing opponents to difficult decisions for all of their chips. But since it was the only action available, I took it. Two tables, 20 players, four would be paid. Entry fee was $35 for $1000 in tournament chips, with unlimited $10 rebuys for the first hour (though you had to be at or below $1000 to rebuy), plus an optional $20 add-on for $4000 at the end of the rebuy period.

A comment on this structure: It's stupid, particularly the size of the add-on. You can see that chips are half the price then. This means that in the last hand or two of the rebuy period, here's what all except the biggest-stacked players are going to think: "Well, I've got 2000 in chips. I'm definitely going to rebuy. My chances against the big stacks are not much better with 6000 in chips than if I go broke now and start over again with just the 4000 add-on. But if I win a multi-way all-in pot at this point, then I've got a fighting chance." So, predictably, the last two hands become an all-in fest, with one lucky soul becoming one of the big stacks. It pushes luck to way too big of a factor.

The competition was unbelievably soft. There is just no question that I was the best player at the table. I realize that sounds like bragging, but it isn't--it's a comment on how bad everybody else was. For me to be the best tournament player at a table, with my extremely limited tournament experience, is saying something about the other players, not about me. There was not a single player there who had "raise or fold" as his main mode, with "call" being an occasional tool. Instead, it was a game of limp-limp-limp, bet-call-call-call-call, check-check-check-check, bet-fold-fold-fold. Complete and utter passivity. The only thing that distinguished the players from each other was that half of them were loose-weak and the rest tight-weak. I was chip leader for most of the first five levels, until a series of three nearly consecutive suckouts felted me in about 13th place.

The idiot

The guy on my immediate right turned out to be one of those idiots who somehow earnestly believe that unlucky outcomes are attributable to the dealer (see http://pokergrump.blogspot.com/2007/11/idiots-blame-dealer.html). In one hand, he limped, I raised with K-K, it got folded back around to him, and he re-raised. The limp-reraise always smells of aces, but this was the loosest player at the table, playing about 75% of hands, and raising with a third of those. Besides, in a low-buy-in event, where the running ratio of average stack size to blinds is not high, it's virtually impossible to escape if you're on the bad end of AA vs. KK. So I push all-in, and the idiot calls. He has 10-10. To me he says, "Nice hand" (even before the five community cards are dealt). Then, nodding toward the dealer, he says, "It's typical of what John always does to me, fucking guy." He is not kidding. I just don't get how players can harbor that kind of moronic belief. Yeah, pal, he stacked the deck between hands when you weren't looking, just so that you'd lose. It's all a conspiracy against you. (Of course, it wasn't a conspiracy when that same dealer later delivered him a runner-runner flush, after all the money was in, to make his pockets 8s beat my flopped aces and tens, the first of the three hands that were my downfall.)

Cash game

Enough players had been knocked out by then that a cash game was about to get started, so I stuck around a little longer and got a seat in it. It was, again, a $4-$8 game. Like at Eureka, the table was very soft. I would peg two other players as being on par with me skill-wise, and, unfortunately, they were the two seats on my left. But they were both card-dead, so didn't cause as much trouble as they otherwise might have. Even though I'm by no means a limit specialist, I cleaned up, even without any extraordinarily lucky run of cards--uptick $138 in an hour and 20 minutes.

Nice touches

Let me mention just a few other admirable things I noticed about the Oasis poker room:

• As you can see from the last photo above, they have 50-cent chips instead of using half-dollar coins for making change from the pot when the house rake requires it. Every time I play in a place that uses silver, I wonder why they don't have 50-cent chips. Chips would be easier to handle for all involved. This is the first time I've seen a casino actually go that way. I like it. The only problem is that they won't cash out the last odd chip at the end of your session, so you either give it back as a tip or you've got yourself a souvenir.
• I love what they do with their magazine rack. Not only do they have four of the five publications I like most (Card Player, Bluff, Poker Player, and Poker Pro, lacking only All-In), but unlike any other casino I've seen, they keep the last three or four back issues of each one available. That way, if you're not a degenerate who goes to poker rooms with my kind of frequency, you can read and/or take home issues you might have missed. Nice touch.
• I have to applaud one dealer for something he did during the tournament. This is the same one--John--that had earlier been the target of the idiot's cursing. The idiot was in the big blind. A standard tournament rule is that if you're not in your seat when the deal is completed, your hand is automatically dead. This helps prevent slowing down the game, and also helps prevent people from possibly getting advice from other people before sitting down to a hand. Anyway, the dealer notices that the idiot is away from the table talking to somebody. As he's putting out everybody's second card, he goes out of his way to tell the player that he needs to get back or his hand will be killed. The idiot doesn't react quickly enough, and arrives about two seconds after the button got his second card. The dealer could easily have let it slide, but instead did the right thing and took back the idiot's cards, politely saying, "Sorry I have to do this, but it's the rule." Of course, Mr. Idiot can't blame himself, and says, "Great. He screws up and I have to pay for it." Huh??? Hey pal, even after you swore at him for an unlucky outcome, he went beyond the call of duty to try to cut you a break! He didn't screw anything up--he just enforced the rule properly. Kudos to him.
  

Like the Eureka, the Oasis is nice enough (and apparently profitable enough) that if it were in Vegas, I would definitely make it a regular stop. For the little town of Mesquite to have two such decent places speaks well for it.

Idiots blame the dealer

One of the most baffling things I see and hear at poker tables is players who blame the dealer for bad cards or bad outcomes.

Of course, there's always at least a bit of this from everybody, mostly joking and good-natured. For example, after 15 or 20 minutes of unplayable hands, I'll occasionally request that a dealer see if she can find it in her heart to pass me one face card before she completes her shift. After an especially bad beat, I'll sometimes try to lighten my own mood by telling the dealer, "You understand that I have to hold you personally responsible for that pot." I think, though, that I have always made it abundantly clear through tone of voice and facial expression that I'm kidding. Many times I have seen off-duty poker dealers sitting at a table as players, and they needle the dealers about bad cards and unlucky outcomes, too—and I have always had the impression that these comments were both made and taken with a wink and a nod.

Some players, though, aren't kidding about this. Some sincerely believe that particular dealers have it in for them. There was a regular at the Hilton who would always take a 30-minute break when a particular dealer came to the table, convinced that it was impossible for him to win a pot from that dealer. Dealers get cursed at, have cards and chips thrown at them, and in other ways take personal abuse from angry players—not for any breach of protocol, but simply because of an unfavorable outcome in the play of a hand.

This is one of the most puzzling attitudes I run into. I'd like to interview these players in detail, and ask them, "Just how do you believe that the dealer is carrying out this plot against you? Does she spend her breaks setting up the decks in a particular order to deliver you bad beats, then slip those decks onto the table when you're not watching?" The idea that casino dealers deliberately select starting hands or outcomes of pots cannot withstand even a few seconds of critical thought by anybody with more than about three neurons connected together within his cranium.*

H. Lee Barnes, in his book Dummy Up and Deal: Inside the Culture of Casino Dealing (University of Nevada Press, 2002) eloquently, if unscientifically, explains the reason for this irrational behavior, from the player’s point of view.** From page 2:

Barnum was right about [a sucker being born every minute]. But the players
refuse to see their pictures on a poster with P.T. Barnum pointing at them. Nor
can the players see the house. What’s the house, after all? A building with
carpet and walls and chandeliers? A corporation? What the players see is the
dealer.

“How can you do this to me?” a player asks.

The dealer can’t pass the blame off onto Blaise Pascal*** or the
player’s bad judgment or the house. The dealer must shoulder the responsibility
for his or her imagined power, no matter how absurd it is to think that the
dealer exercises any control. The dealer becomes not the medium through which
chance plays out its pure odds, but rather the conduit of luck…. What is left
after all the motion is the dealer standing behind the table in her uniform. She
must face the player.

“How can you do this to me?”

The most unflinching assessment of this phenomenon I have encountered is that of prolific poker writer David Sklansky, in Fighting Fuzzy Thinking in Poker, Gaming & Life (Two Plus Two Publications, 2000), p. 113:

Players sometimes throw cards at the dealer, insult him or her, or declare that they will never tip. Sometimes this happens because the dealer made a mistake. More often, it is because the dealer dealt the abusing player a losing hand.

While I have never knowingly abused a dealer, I have a confession to make—I like it when I see someone else do it! It’s not because I am a sadist; and it’s not because I secretly wish that I had the gumption to do it myself. Rather, it is because I am delighted to know that my opponent is an imbecile!

The fact is that any player who gets mad at the dealer for his losing cards, truly, is a complete moron, and his stupidity ought to make me money…. So to repeat one more time, if you don’t think the dealer is cheating, and you still abuse him or her when you lose, you simply are an idiot.

Most of the overt signs of irrationality I complain about from low-stakes players can also be seen among high-stakes professionals, at least occasionally: superstitions, asking for new decks of cards to try to terminate a streak of bad luck, rabbit-hunting, having "feelings" about what card was coming next, getting upset when a judiciously folded trash hand would have hit big, etc. Until this week, though, I had never seen a recognizable, successful, name-brand, professional player earnestly blame a dealer for the cards.

Then yesterday, while browing around YouTube for something else, I came upon this clip of David "Devilfish" Ulliott: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MyzZDCG43hI (from which the first screenshot above was stolen). In it, he and Phil Hellmuth get all their money in before the flop, and Hellmuth gets lucky to flop a third 9 to beat Ulliott's pocket aces. As soon as he sees that card, Ulliott says, "Look at this fucking dealer." (The Brits are less squeamish than we are about language on television.) He manages to make Hellmuth look like a classy gentleman by comparison--which is quite a feat in itself.

In another episode of the same series, Ulliott again takes out his bad beat on the dealer--even though he was openly reprimanded for it after the first incident (by a voice off-camera; I couldn't tell if it was the tournament director or one of the television producers). You can see the situation in the second screenshot above, and the hand is shown at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZSA0tzdx0yg. Again, all the money is in before the flop, with Andrew Black having attempted an all-in bluff reraise, which Ulliott called. As he walks away, he says something that is partially obscured by the commentators, but sounds like, "You'd better get coffee out to that dealer. She's fucking worse than the other one."

Yeah, Devilfish, it's the dealer for sure. Hellmuth and Black paid the dealers under the table to arrange the cards so that you would lose.

Really, what other scenario is possible by which it makes any sense to blame the dealer? But if Ulliott genuinely thinks that's what happened, then why not lodge a complaint with the tournament director, insist on reviewing the videotapes, scrutinize the security procedures, etc.? Of course, it's pretty unlikely that he actually believes this. But then, if he doesn't believe it, why say something so monumentally stupid, especially when you know it's going to be put on television?

When Hellmuth blows up, it's always at another player, whose idiotic play, in Hellmuth's eyes, resulted in whatever bad outcome he's currently bitching about. Mike Matusow, in his blowups, just blames bad luck, repeatedly claiming that he is simply the unluckiest player alive. These attitudes are stupid and demonstrably wrong, but at least they have some kernel of truth to them. Lots of Hellmuth's opponents do make bad plays, then get lucky--but he's no more a victim of this than every other professional who has to fight their way through large fields of amateurs to win modern tournaments. Matusow often blames bad luck when it was actually his own bad judgment at fault, but luck is certainly part of every hand. If he's not actually cursed with extraordinarily bad luck, in his blow-up situations it is at least true that he failed to get good luck where it might help him.

But blaming the dealer? Mr. Ulliott, in addition to being supremely ill-mannered, that's just moronic.

*I realize that there are countless schemes by which a dealer can manipulate a poker game. People playing in home games and underground cardrooms really do have to watch out for these "mechanics." But in casinos, using modern, standard security practices, it's almost unthinkable that any such shenanigans are going on. The dealer, if caught, would obviously be out of not just a job, but a career, as he or she would be forever unemployable in the gaming industry--not to mention facing criminal charges. Except at the very highest stakes, it would be impossible to win enough money from such a plot to make it profitable, after paying a dealer a large enough bribe that he or she might consider risking that much for it.


**This was written in the context of games in which the player is set against the house, with the house having a fixed edge, but the same psychology clearly carries over to poker, in which players are pitted against each other, with the house having no interest in who wins or loses.

***A 17th-century mathematician who, with Pierre de Fermat, basically invented the entire field of probability theory. See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blaise_Pascal.