Touching all the bases

Yesterday I saw this one-minute clip from ABC's "Good Morning, America": http://www.yahoo.com/s/871415. You can also read the story and see a longer video feature about it here. In brief, at the end of a college softball game, a player hit the game-winning home run over the fence, but tore a ligament in her knee going around first base, and couldn't complete the circuit. Umpires informed the team that if her teammates helped her, the home run would be voided. So two players from the opposing team carried her around the bases, thus making the run count, but losing the game for their team.

Predictably, these two young women are being lauded as the epitome of sportsmanship, and the video is played with swelling violin music, blah, blah, blah.

I'm not so sure.

The news story mentions something about the coach having been about to send in a pinch runner. I don't know the rules, so maybe that would be legal, in which case scoring the run for the team was inevitable, one way or another. (If that's so, then it greatly reduces the sacrificial nature of the opposing player's gesture, which is being touted as so grandly heroic.) But for the sake of argument, let's assume a situation in which that can't be done--the player hitting the ball has to personally make it around the bases, or the run doesn't count. Should members of the other team help her do it?

On the one hand, you could say, "Well, she hit the ball over the fence, she deserves the home run, and touching the bases is merely a symbolic formality." That seems to be the prevailing attitude, judging by reactions to this week's story.

But the rules don't say that hitting the ball over the fence scores a home run. They say that such a hit followed by a trip around the bases is what constitutes a home run. Yes, the hit is the hard part and the circuit the easy part (at least usually), but they are both essential ingredients, as the rules stand. Suppose that instead of injuring a knee, the player in question had suffered a fatal heart attack halfway around. Would the opposing teammates carry her corpse the rest of the way? Should it count if they did? There have certainly been home runs invalidated because the hitter subsequently failed to touch all of the bases, often because teammates gather around home plate for congratulations, and the batter never touches down there.

Consider another parallel from golf. On several occasions, big-name professionals have been disqualified after winning (or placing highly) in matches because they sign a scorecard that contains an error, or two players accidentally sign each other's cards. See, e.g., here. In the most famous such instance, Roberto DeVicenzo missed out on a playoff to settle a tie for first place because he signed a scorecard containing an error that put his score one shot too high, which then had to stand. He famously commented, "What a stupid I am!" (See here.) Playing a winning round of golf is the hard part, signing a correct scorecard the easy part. But you have to do both in order to pick up the trophy and the check. Them's just the rules. You might argue for changing them, but do you really want to take the position that the rules, while in place, should be disregarded?

Yeah, I'm getting to the poker part.

I've seen many cases in which the player with the winning hand does not get or is in danger of not getting the pot because of some smaller part of the process that he did wrong or failed to do.

Stories #1 and #2

Lee Jones told two such stories in an interesting recent column for Card Player magazine, which, if this general subject interests you, you should read here. Here they are:

• You're in a cash limit hold'em game. Two players are involved in a pot.
They get to the river and there's a showdown. Player A turns up a pocket pair of
nines. Player B shows and tables a single 10 and tosses his other card into the
muck. There's a 10 on the board, so Player B has a pair of tens. Where do you
push the pot? We all know the official rule, the TDA (Tournament Director's
Association) rule, and so on: Player A has a complete hand, Player B's hand is
dead, Player A wins the pot. But we also know that Player B has the best hand.
We could let Player A go through the deck and pick another card for Player B,
and he (Player A) still couldn't win the pot. Now, let's suppose it's obvious to
everybody within a 10-meter radius that Player B is a novice and doesn't know
this rule - that he comes from a home-game environment and/or has never
encountered this situation in casino game before.

Well, years ago, I was a table captain and a rules lawyer. I can produce a
dozen sober witnesses (and scores of non-sober ones) to verify this fact. But
I've changed my tune. I think you give the pot (and a warning) to Player B and
his pair of tens. You don't want to create an upset novice who's likely to walk
out and never come back. By the way, I saw this exact scene in a European casino
recently. The dealer, correctly, called the floorman, who did what I thought was
a very wise thing: He said to Player A, "Look, he's got the best hand, so give
him the pot." Player A hemmed and hawed, but ultimately did the right thing and
told Player B to take the pot. Then, the floorman explained to Player B very
clearly that he was being given a gift. That, in my opinion, is good for the
game.

• I was in a cash limit hold'em game in a European casino. I got involved
in a pot with another guy, on whom I had position. On the river, he checked. I
turned up my hand. My opponent misread my hand, thinking I had a straight. He
tossed his hand facedown in front of him, and it passed over the betting line
that you see on many poker tables in Europe. His cards were, however, a couple
of feet from the muck (we were in the No. 2 and No. 3 seats). Then he looked
again and realized that I had only a pair and a missed gutshot. He turned up and
tabled his hand - trips. The dealer reached out and mucked his hand. In her
opinion (and this may have been house policy, I don't know), his hand was dead -
as it had gone facedown across the betting line. I said, "Give the man the pot -
he's got the best hand." The dealer looked at me quizzically and glared at my
opponent. "Really - he's got trips, and I've got one pair; he gets the pot." She
looked askance at us both and pushed him the pot.

This and the previous ruling are no-brainers. You have to have a really
good reason to give the pot to anything except the best hand. I think that means
that you must suspect fraud, foul play, or, at the least, severe angle shooting
to do otherwise.

I certainly see his point, and he makes it well. I can't say that he's wrong. But I don't know that he's right, either. I'm still more in the "rules lawyer" state. Maybe I'll change with time, as Jones says he did.

Story #3

Consider this story, as recently told here:

This was at a $1/$2 no limit game.

I was in midpostion with Ace Hearts Queen of clubs and 2 had already
limped. I raise it to $10. The button called as did the Small Blind. The 2 other
limpers and BB all folded.

Flop was Queen of hearts 5 of clubs 6 of clubs.

I bet $30. button folds and small blind calls. Turn was a 4 of clubs.

She checks, I check behind her. River was a 3 of clubs.

She bets out $12. At this point I know I am beat but making the crying call
anyways. I flip over both my cards and say I have the queen high flush. I ask
her do you have the straight flush or just the ace high? She flips over her 2 of
clubs, for the straight flush. very nice straight flush. She then tosses her 2nd
card into the muck face down and the dealer ships her the pot. I pipe up and say
"Dude, she just mucked her hand." The dealers eyes got huge as he realized she
did and he had pushed the pot her way.

There was an akward pause at the table.

I said "All I really want to know is what your 2nd car was miss? Please
be honest." She says it was the 3 of hearts. So I said you caught the straight
on the turn then. Yet, I have one more question. Why did you call my raise to
$10 with 2/3 off? Her answer "because I was in the (small) blind." Yikes.

So when I told this story to a few of my friends they had differnt
thoguths.

I had a couple tell me I was wrong to ask her what her 2nd card was,
that she showed me she had me beat and I had lost.

Yet others said, they would have brought the floor over and that $100+
pot would have been theirs/mine as it were.

In my reply, I said:

Mucking one card is effectively the same as mucking both of them. I don't
think there's anything wrong with asking what her other card was, though I don't
think either the question or answer changes anything. If I had the Q-high flush
there, I'd take the pot and not feel a bit guilty about it. A flush beats a dead
hand any day of the week.

I'm sure Lee Jones would disagree, as did others in the discussion. And maybe they're right. I don't know.

The rest of the cases below are stories I've told before, so rather than re-tell them, I'll just insert links to the original posts.

Story #4

See here. The more liberal, Lee Jones, best-hand-takes-the-pot-regardless-of-technicalities argument says that my opponent gets the money because he had the best hand. The alternative viewpoint is that he didn't protect his hand as he was obligated by the rules to do, and thus forfeited his rights to it.

Story #5

See what I labeled "Story #1" here. In theory, the casino staff could have gone out of their way to find the guy who had had the best hand, but after he had walked away from the table, is that really their job? Here I support them having awarded it to the second-best hand. The erstwhile winner had done the hard part of the job by having the best hand, but failed to do the easy part, which was staying put until the hand was over, and that negligence cost him the pot. See also the addendum to that post for a similar story that a reader emailed to me.

Story #6

See here. I don't recall whether the Floridian's cards were identifiable/retrievable from the muck, or so thoroughly mixed in that they couldn't be pulled out again. But suppose for the moment that the dealer had simply placed them on top of the muck, so that they could be easily recovered. Should they be? Should he be given the chance to show that he had the best hand, as he claimed, and thereby win the pot? I think Jones would argue yes, since there was no attempt at either cheating or severe angle-shooting going on, just an honest mistake.

Story #7

See the second story, the one from the Hilton, here. This wasn't quite a question of who got the pot, but it was along the same lines in that it involved a question of whether to enforce the rules strictly versus giving a break to somebody who acted unintentionally.

Story #8

See the third story, the one from the Orleans, here. In this case it didn't matter, because the hand that accidentally landed face-down on top of the muck wasn't the winner. But suppose it had been. Should he get the pot, on the view that he didn't deliberately throw his hand away, or should he forfeit it, on the grounds that he didn't table his cards in the manner the rules prescribe (i.e., face up, and not in the muck)?

Story #9

See "The Undead Hand" here. Should cards off the table before everybody sees them be grounds for forfeiting a pot that one would otherwise win (or share)?

In each of the cases I've witnessed personally, I have been and remain in favor of the more strict/legalistic reading and enforcement of the rules, what Jones called the "rules lawyer" approach. This isn't because I want to punish people for inadvertant mistakes. Rather, it's because I don't trust either myself or poker room staff to be able to reliably distinguish between innocent mistakes and deliberate angle-shooting. The easiest way to be fair is to strictly enforce all of the rules all of the time. (Granted, there are situations that no set of written rules anticipates, and judgment calls have to be made. I'm talking about situations where a rule clearly pertains, but may be harsh in its consequentes.) I can't think of a case in which I have asked for, needed, or been given the "benefit of the doubt" when I've screwed something up at the poker table.

I just don't think it's asking too much of players to perform the simple act of turning both cards face up, without putting them in the muck or tossing them off of the table, and to speak up quickly if the dealer accidentally kills their winning hand.

Still, I have nagging doubts about whether this approach is actually right and/or best for the game in the long run. Jones's column has amplified my discomfiture.

Ron Paul on the UIGEA

Do not miss the exclusive interview with Ron Paul about the UIGEA posted a short time ago at Card Player's web site, here.

Obviously, I agree with nearly everything he has to say on the subject. But I did have one significant difference of opinion, regarding this portion of the interview:

CP: What should be done about Internet gambling in America?

RP: I think we should just take a hands-off position. I don’t think the
government should be involved in any way at all. If I take a personal viewpoint
that gambling is bad and I don’t like it, the way I should attack that is that I
personally should avoid doing it and teach my kids the way I think they should
act. But I don’t want the government coming in and doing this.

CP: Not even at a state level?

RP: Well, at a state level there are no prohibitions to [regulate] it. If I
were a state legislator, I would probably argue against just about all that
regulation, and taxing, as well. But as a federal official, I have to no
authority to prohibit states from being involved.

I'm glad that he is a respector of states' rights, but I think he's dead wrong that Congress couldn't stop states from regulating and/or taxing Internet gaming. Isn't that pretty clearly within congressional authority to regulate interstate commerce and international trade? In fact, Congress has previously acted in exactly this way, prohibiting states from imposing Internet-specific taxes. The primary purpose of the interstate commerce clause in the Constitution is to prevent states from meddling in and gumming up commerce that transpires between states, which surely encompasses money trading hands over the Internet. In my view, Congress could flatly prohibit states from interfering in any way with Internet gaming, and be fully within its rightful constitutional boundaries--and it should do so. (Not that I'm holding my breath expecting it to happen....)

Many thanks to Bob Pajich at Card Player for getting Rep. Paul to open up on this topic.

More problem's with apostrophe's

You'll need to click on the image above to enlarge it enough to read. It's taken from page 30 of the current issue of Card Player magazine.

The book featured is titled Confessions of a Poker Dealer: A Short History of Poker Played in Casino's Since the Late 1970's. I see from amazon.com that it was released in December, 2007, and is apparently from a vanity press. That would explain the lack of an editor to catch typographical errors in the title, on the cover! That's something I don't think I've seen before.

But then Card Player repeats the error in its accompanying text. Look on the second line, where it says "the way casino's robbed poker players." Strangely, though, casinos appears correctly in the first line. Furthermore, Card Player has correctly rendered the various decades, e.g., 1970s, rather than 1970's, as the book's title erroneously has it.

The paragraph of text, however, was not written by anybody at Card Player, as far as I can tell. The same text appears as the "product description" on amazon.com, suggesting that it was written by the book's author. Card Player did manage to clean up most of the typos that appear on amazon.com--but they let that one instance of casino's through, for some unknown reason.

Of course, they wouldn't have had to deal with that problem if they had written original text to describe the book, rather than taking the publisher's description and trying to pass it off as if it were their own. Bad as it is for a respectable periodical to make the plural of casino with an apostrophe, plagiarism is a greater offense.

At least the title is honest about one thing: "Short"--according to amazon.com, 48 pages short. For $15. I can't imagine that it would be worth it, especially since it's likely that the entire book is as badly written/edited as the front cover.

Rio rumor

Playing at the Rio this afternoon, I heard a dealer telling another player that after this year's WSOP, they will be closing the Rio bowling alley and moving the poker room into that space.

Remember, if it turns out to be true, you heard it here first. If it turns out to be false, well, I can hardly be blamed for that, can I?

New poker room at Sam's Town

As I was leaving Sam's Town after the movie today, I noticed that the poker room has moved. It's just across the hall from the old location, but now open to the rest of the casino, rather than being mostly closed off. As regular readers will anticipate, I strongly dislike it when casinos make this move, because I so dislike noise and smoke. But the new room otherwise looks more nicely appointed than the old, and much less crowded. I didn't stop to play, so a full review will have to wait for another day. For now, you can at least see some blurry, low-resolution photos of the place.

What's the deal with "Deal"?

My occasionally spacey sister left some of her clothes in a drawer in her hotel room at Sam's Town last week. Housekeeping found them for her, and today I had to go pick them up so I can mail them to her. I had noticed in the local movie listings that the newest poker movie, Deal, directed by Gil Cates, Jr., was showing at only two places, and one of them was the cinemaplex at Sam's Town. It seemed like destiny. So I went to the 3:00 showing. At 2:55, I was the only one in the theater. It would have been an unprecedented experience to see a movie in a theater completely alone, but five other people came in at the last minute to ruin the opportunity.

I was prepared to hate this film. I even posted last fall that it was probably going to suck. The initial reviews have been far from kind; Wicked Chops Poker quoted these review snippets:

"Deal has to take the title of the worst film ever about the game and that
includes the how-to videos with Joan Rivers impersonators you see in your Vegas
hotel room." - Erik Childress, efilmcritic.com
"One
of the most cliche-ridden and generally misguided films of not just the year,
but the decade so far." - Brian Tallerico, Deadbolt.com
"Director/co-writer
Gil Cates Jr. gives us a by-the-numbers execution of a by-the-numbers story,
which would barely be movie-of-the-week material but for Reynolds's 'star
power.'" - LA
City Beat
"A poker movie that has the dubious honor of being even worse
than Lucky You." - Gary Thompson (but not the Gary Thompson?), Philadelphia
Daily News

In a later post, the same site noted that the film had received a perfect 0% on rottentomatoes.com (i.e., not a single good review), which doesn't happen too often. Similarly, I see that metacritic.com finds an average review score of 35/100, and not a single one better than 50 (see here).

So, like I said, I was prepared to hate it. After all, I've hated most of the poker movies I've posted about here (click the "movies" label at the end of this post or along the left-hand margin to see them all), and griping about things that I don't like or that are just plain bad is, well, it's kind of my whole schtick here, y'know?

But I have to say--it wasn't all that bad.

Sure, it managed to pull together every cliche you might imagine--the hooker with the heart of gold, the washed-up, has-been poker great of yesteryear trying to mount a comeback, the brash, young internet poker whiz who has to learn about live poker tells and whose family disapproves of his playing, the inevitable teacher-versus-student finale for the championship, etc. Also, it definitely takes a while to get going. You can see the "surprise" ending coming from a mile away (especially if you've seen Lucky You, which should sue for plagiarism). And nobody's going to be winning any Oscars for this baby. I could also note the oddity of the World Poker Tour suddenly being broadcast live, and with Mike Sexton and Vince Van Patten doing commentary all the way through, rather than just at the final table. Also, there are small poker continuity problems, such as the community cards being swept away at the end of a hand not being the same ones that were shown in close-up as the hand progressed.

But on the positive side, the soundtrack was pretty enjoyable (including tracks from Delbert McClinton and Lorrie Morgan), and you get to see Shannon Elizabeth in her underwear. (Her part, incidentally, is so insignificant that it could have been edited out without disturbing the plot--except that then we'd miss out on seeing her in her unders.) Phil Laak and Antonio Esfandiari play themselves, and do very well. That sounds like it should be a laugh line, but it's not. The pros playing themselves in most other poker movies come off far stiffer and more uncomfortable than they are in real life, but Phil and Antonio look, sound, and act just like they do everywhere else you've seen them--relaxed and funny. Most importantly, the poker itself doesn't suck, and there's a lot of it, neither of which could be said about many so-called poker movies.

I particularly liked the one truly surprising aspect of the big showdown at the end--the way that the Burt Reynolds character adjusts for the fact that his protege has apparently picked up on a tell that he has. It's daring, brilliant, dramatic, and even plausible, given the circumstances. (Which is why I'm not going to tell you what it is here.)

I suppose that overall it's somewhat duller than Lucky You, with fewer characters and fewer diversions from the main plot, but it also avoids most of the things that drove me crazy about Lucky You (getting poker stuff wrong, relationships that don't make sense, unlikeable main characters).

I think the movie's strengths and weaknesses are summed up best in this paragraph from the review that Wesley Morris wrote for the Boston Globe:

But "Deal" doesn't really care about the characters as much as it does the
World Poker Championships, where Tommy and Alex end up. Once we get there the
movie becomes interesting because Cates understands the game and its dramas a
lot better than he understands people and theirs.

Incidentally, I saw previews for two non-poker-related movies that both look excellent: Hamlet 2, a comedy, and American Teen, a documentary.

The Grump pwns a blogament (well, almost)

There seem to be all sorts of semi-private tournaments for poker bloggers these days. I don't enter many of them, because, as you know, online poker isn't really my thing, nor are multi-table tournaments. (I think single-table tournaments suit me better, as a general rule.) But once in a while I dip my toe into the water. With the blogaments, it's a good way to rub virtual elbows with other poker bloggers, learn about some blogs I haven't read before, tell a few of them about mine, etc.

Bodog has been running a series of $10 tourneys just for poker bloggers on Tuesday nights that will culminate in a World Series seat for the overall winner. (See here for details.) I'm not seriously trying for that, but this is the second time I've entered one of the weekly events. As you can see from the above, I entered the final table in second chip position, and finished third, which isn't too bad--much better than my usual performance in such things, and easily the best I've done in a bloggers-only event (which is why I'm posting about it).

Of course, I had to pull three all-in suckouts to make it (my 10-10 vs. A-A, my A-10 vs. 10-10, and my A-5 vs. A-K [but they were sooooted!]). I have a feeling that there are three poker bloggers out there right this minute writing bad-beat posts about the idiot that knocked them out of the tournament. On the other hand, I was also on the receiving end of a few similar situations (e.g., my J-J vs. A-10). So it all washes out in the end, more or less.

The other blogament choice tonight was part of the "skill series" on Full Tilt, but the event was Stud high, which I've never played before. Given how much I've been focusing on razz for my online poker lately, I thought it was pretty likely that I'd keep trying for hands like A-2-3-6-7, and think I was golden. Which might not work so well in straight stud.

The Grump makes it onto televised poker for the first time

Yes, it's true, I've finally hit the big time. The world of television poker couldn't ignore me forever, and today was the day they finally spotted me.

Here's a shot from today's broadcast of the 2008 NBC Heads-Up Poker Championship:



What? You don't see me?

Here, let me help a little:



There. Is that better?

It's probably a bit hard to recognize me because at that very moment I was taking this photo for you, my loyal readers.

But never fear. The NBC cameras were not done with me. Here I am again:



Huh? Still having some difficulty seeing me?

Do not adjust your set. I can help again:



There ya go.

Once again, they caught me while I was working for all of you. I was in the midst of shooting this video of the big moment.

See? For you, my readers, I sacrified my moment in the sun and nationwide recognition, diligently keeping my camera to my face, so that you could get an advance look at the goings-on at Caesars Palace that day.

Has any blogger ever done so much for you?

My #1 online poker pet peeve

Lots and lots of things annoy me about online poker--see here and here just for starters. But in reflecting on the situation, it's probably not fair to lump them all together as I have, without differentiating between them, because some irritants are definitely worse than others.

Hands down, the most annoying online sin is the player who chronically, repeatedly slows down the game. I mean, one of the chief advantages of online poker over live poker is that you can play so many more hands per hour, and when one or more morons at the table take the maximum time allotted every time the action gets to them, it kills that quality.

Most often these slowpokes just aren't paying attention to the game. This could be because they're drunk or stoned, or playing on more tables at once than they can effectively keep up with, or because they're simultaneously doing email or web surfing, cooking, or whatever.

As a typical example, the other day I chided a guy for holding up the show every time it was his turn. His explanation was that he's a single father of three young children, and was having to change a diaper and fix the kids' dinner while he played. (Never mind the "Ewwwwww" factor of combining those two activities.) He genuinely thought this was a perfectly legitimate reason for making everybody wait for him every time around. I suggested that perhaps he could find a better time to play poker than when family responsibilities were his primary focus.

Some people just can't grasp the concept that it's simply rude to make seven or more other people wait for you, time after time, because you're too busy doing something other than paying attention to the game. For most of these knuckleheads, most of the time, it's simple selfishness and a wholesale lack of consideration for others.

But of all of the causes of delays, the one that chaps me the most is the people who chat when it's their turn to play. Here are a few examples I've been collecting over the last several days, all from razz games (which is what I've spent most of my online time with lately) on Poker Stars, but you could pick any game on any site and find comparable offenses.

Dealer: ericg512, it's your turn. You have 15 seconds to act
ericg512: this is a bad call but gh sleepy
Dealer: sleepywag has Lo: 6,5,4,3,2
Dealer: Game #16599398639: sleepywag wins pot ($16.40) with Lo:

Notice that ericg512 used up most of his time allotment typing in his observation about what a bad call he was making. This requires either a massively overinflated ego, or a pathetically fragile one, and it's not always easy to tell which is at work. Arguing for the former is that he apparently thinks that one or more other players at the table care about his assessment of the situation sufficiently that they're willing to wait while he types it in. How self-absorbed is that??? Arguing for the weak ego is the inference that he cares deeply what the other players think of him--heaven forbid that he should make a bad call without having announced in advance that he knew it was bad. Of course, it's arguable whether it's more stupid to make a bad call knowing that it's bad, or make it without knowing that it's bad. But either way, I can't fathom why he cares what the other players think of him. If he's a bad player, they'll figure it out no matter what. If he's not, but they think he's bad, isn't that an advantage for him? Either way, it's just incredibly stupid to care whether a handful of strangers scattered around the globe think your play on one hand of poker was good or bad.

JJ_Grunt: who cried?
JJ_Grunt: NOT FKIN ME
ishouldcallU: play some cards you need people to put there money in when they are behind
Dealer: ishouldcallU, it's your turn. You have 15 seconds to act

Very typical situation here. ishouldcallU decides he needs to weigh in on the discussion occurring about the previous hand, and doesn't care that it's his turn. He needs to get his opinion out into the world right this instant! It's so vitally important that he can't possibly wait until after he takes his turn to finish composing his little gem of wisdom and share it with everybody. Who cares that the whole table is sitting around waiting for him?

P0K3R HUSTLE: weak flush draw?
P0K3R HUSTLE: i'll go with ya

P0K3R HUSTLE: i know im fcked
P0K3R HUSTLE: oh well

P0K3R HUSTLE: no way you will beat me
P0K3R HUSTLE: no frickin way
P0K3R HUSTLE: KK/
P0K3R HUSTLE: AA/
Dealer: P0K3R HUSTLE has 15 seconds left to act
P0K3R HUSTLE: ?
P0K3R HUSTLE: fck it

As you can see, this guy was a repeat offender. Again the ego thing--he clearly was so delusional that he believed the other seven players were dying of curiosity to know his thought processes behind every significant decision he had to make. If it slowed down the game, well, that's a small price to pay for allowing his legions of adoring fans to see what he was thinking at every critical juncture. The truth is, pal, nobody gives a rat's ass what you're thinking, or why you're making the plays. If you imagine otherwise (as you clearly do), well, you're psychotic. Get help.


XSeditX: i give u that
Dealer: kanonk, it's your turn. You have 15 seconds to act
kanonk: but It may not be the most profitable raise, I agree

Dealer: XSeditX, it's your turn. You have 15 seconds to act
XSeditX: i dont know my odds in this game like u kononk but i have a very good idea when im ahead and how far head/behind

Again, nothing special here--just two more examples of the all-too-common phenomenon of players engaging in otherwise harmless (though fairly mindless) chat--just at the wrong time. There's no reason to make the whole table wait while you type in your thoughts, when you could just as easily take your turn, then finish typing. It's just plain rude to plow ahead with chatting instead of first moving the game along.


RatMal: No walk??
Dealer: RatMal, it's your turn. You have 15 seconds to act

Here, I was to the right of the bring-in. I had three low cards, and everybody folded to me. Naturally, I raised. RatMal couldn't just fold and move on. No. He had to try to engage in dialogue (or perhaps a monologue) about the situation. Was this just a complaint? If so, it's a pretty stupid one, and one that could have been registered just as well after the hand was over. Was he seriously trying to start a conversation? If so, what could he possibly expect me to say? What could he possibly expect me to do--take back the raise? No matter which way you look at it, it was just stupid and rude to hold things up in this way. Yes, here it was just a few seconds, but this kind of thing happens over and over and over again, and those delays add up to games often getting in only half of the hands per hour that they could if everybody paid attention and kept things moving.


RatMal: I luv this king...
Dealer: RatMal, it's your turn. You have 15 seconds to act

Here's Mr. RatMal again. This time, he decided to make this astute and important observation before posting the bring-in that was required of him--because, obviously, he sensed that the rest of us were far more interested in his hilarious remark than we were in getting on with playing the hand. Egotistical jerk.


Dealer: RatMal, it's your turn. You have 15 seconds to act
RatMal: A rough ten..

Yep, it's RatMal yet again. (You see how the players that do this tend to be chronic offenders.) This time, he thought it was important that we all understand what hand he was folding before he clicked the "fold" button. Because, of course, all seven opponents around the world were simultaneously obsessing on just one thought: "What could RatMal possibly be holding here?" Whew--good thing he somehow knew that we were all eagerly awaiting his announcement, as if watching for the white smoke to come from the Vatican's chimney, and relieved our collective tension with the vital news. Information that crucial just can't wait until after one has clicked the "fold" button, you know.

Well, I think that's enough examples to make the point. There are virtually no situations in which it is worth eating up the time of seven or more other people while you pontificate (oooo--there's an unintended but interesting juxtaposition, using the Vatican chimney analogy in the previous paragraph, then the word "pontificate" here!) on what your cards are (which, by the way, is against the rules anyway, unless you're the last one with a possible decision to make in the hand), what you're thinking, why you're choosing the action you're taking, or continuing whatever inane conversation is in progress. In essentially every case, the rest of us will thank you to follow this simple guideline: Take your turn first, then chat to your heart's content while others take their turns.

Or is that just too much to ask?

Expelling a jerk from a tournament

Back in March, lots of poker news sources and blogs reported on the unusual expulsion of a tournament chip leader, a guy named Lesley Thornburg, from the final table, due to ongoing bad behavior. These were essentially all based on the report of Nolan Dalla, which you can read here. I didn't repeat or point to it at the time, because I didn't have anything useful to add to the story, and anybody who peruses poker news outlets or blogs would almost certainly have come across it elsewhere.

I was pleased and surprised to find in the May, 2008, issue of Poker Pro magazine an editorial comment from John Wenzel, who describes the situation with other details not previously reported. It's not clear whether Wenzel was there, or just reporting secondhand on what others told him, but at least he gathered perspectives other than that of Dalla. And even with these additional pieces of information about what the culprit was doing, it's clear that there is a lot being left out.

It's such a remarkable story that I'm posting it here, in the form of a scan of Wenzel's piece, since I know that Poker Pro magazine isn't nearly as widely circulated as other publications, which means that many people won't ever see this. (Click the image to embiggen it sufficiently for reading.)

The only question left is why the tournament director didn't disqualify the guy sooner.





Addendum, April 27, 2008

I started wondering if this Thornburg fellow had attempted any explanation or defense of his actions in the various poker forums, so I Googled his name and found one, of sorts, from somebody claiming to be Thornburg, which you can read here. Even if the post is really from the person in question, it's a pretty implausible defense, basically saying that he did nothing out of the ordinary, and he can't imagine why they picked on him. The threshold for conduct that will get you ejected from a poker tournament (for anything short of being caught red-handed cheating) is about a hundredfold higher than what this writer is saying happened. Furthermore, if Wenzel's witnesses are even remotely on target, the guy was hopelessly out of control, and probably drunk enough that he couldn't be counted on to even remember his own conduct, let alone be a reliable judge of it.

Making a stop at the Station(s)

Last night I played at two of the Station casinos--Texas Station and Santa Fe Station--each of which I had previously visited just once. I nabbed a bunch of short stories and observations about each.

The image above, incidentally, is not from North Las Vegas (where both of the above-mentioned casinos are located). Rather, it is Claude Monet, "Gare Saint Lazare: the Train from Normandy," 1877, a painting that one may see at the Art Institute of Chicago. About ten years ago that museum had a mind-blowing show, pulling together roughly 150 Monets--the largest assembly of his paintings in one place since the artist's death. I was privileged to see it. Best art experience of my life.

Texas Station

My friend James Klosty used to be a shift manager at the Hilton, then moved up to be the poker room manager at Fiesta Henderson. He sent me an email recently telling me that he had moved yet again, and is now in the same position at Texas Station. So I decided to go see what he has done with the place.

This is a small poker room--I counted nine tables. It's too smoky for my taste, with an ineffective half-wall on three sides, exposing players to smoke and noise from the surrounding main casino floor. Last night, a Friday, between 7:00 and 9:00, there were four tables in action, two $2-4 limit and two $4-8 limit hold'em games--nothing in the no-limit category. That alone will severely restrict my interest in returning. The games were pretty typical for a locals-oriented poker room. Most of the players plainly knew each other, and the dealers knew most of the players. There's a series of weekly freeroll tournaments going on now--qualify with ten hours of play--and a lot of the seats were filled with players punching the clock.

Texas Station's poker room is far from the worst of the lot, but, frankly, there isn't much there that would make me interested in visiting it again.


A variation on "I knew he had..."

One of the more annoying stupid things that people say at the poker table is "I knew he had..." (fill in: the straight, the flush, aces, or whatever). Of course, people only say this after their hunch is confirmed. It's pretty easy to be right 100% of the time when you only reveal your "prediction" after the evidence is in.

That's why it was refreshing last night to hear the very rare admission of an error. I won the biggest pot of the night with 7-8 of hearts in the hole when the flop came 4-5-6 rainbow. The betting had been capped with five players before the flop. My bet on the flop got three callers, two on the turn, and one called the river. The woman to my right said, after the hand, that she "knew" I couldn't have 7-8, because she "knew" that I wouldn't call all of that aggressive pre-flop betting with such a holding.

There have been only two or three times that I've noticed a player using the phrase "I knew" when describing what proves to have been an erroneous conclusion. Of course, nobody ever really knows what another player is holding--which is precisely why I find the whole "I knew he had..." post hoc boast to be so stupid and annoying. One's best guess or deduction does not constitute knowing in any meaningful sense. So I appreciated this young woman's honesty. Whether consciouly or not, she showed that what frequently and casually gets labeled as certain knowledge of what an opponent has is usually highly tenuous and fallible.


Applause for a unique rule

During a short stint at a $2-4 table while waiting for a $4-8 seat to open up, the player to my right asked the dealer to give the cards a scramble on the table before putting them into the Shufflemaster. This is a topic I've addressed before, here and here. I've never seen a dealer refuse the request--until last night.

To my great surprise, the dealer said, "I'm not allowed to do that. I have to call the floor." She called over the floor person, and was told that house rules do not permit giving the cards an extra "wash" before putting them in the Shufflemaster.

I wanted to stand up and cheer. Finally, a poker room that implements a rational policy that prevents stupid players from wasting everybody's time with a pointless gesture. Hoorah!

The only way this could be made better would be to have the rule specify that the dealer must administer a dope slap to the idiot player making the request, simultaneously asking "How stupid are you anyway?"


Somebody failed junior-high English

I spotted this sign just outside the Texas Station poker room last night. Notice the erroneous apostrophes in "10's" and "Ace's." Oddly, it's "Aces" in one spot and "Ace's" in another--apparently the sign writer wasn't sure, and so made one each way, figuring it was better to be half right and half wrong than to risk getting it wrong twice. Notice also that he manges to correctly make the plural of "flush" and "player" without inserting superfluous punctuation.

I'll never understand why so many people insist on using apostrophes to make a few randomly selected nouns plural. (There's an entire blog devoted to this pervasive problem. See here.)

Sante Fe Station

After I had had my fill of limit hold'em, and there was no sign of a no-limit game getting started, I left Texas Station and proceeded up Rancho Drive a couple of miles further northwest to Sante Fe Station. I had been to this place only once before. That was on opening day of "Lucky You." I took a friend out there to see the movie and try the then-new "Salt Lick BBQ" restaurant (pretty good, but mostly indistinguishable from about a thousand other barbecue places). There was a little down time before the show started, so I played maybe 30 minutes of limit hold'em while waiting.

Last night was surprisingly different. The place has 14 tables, and 12 of them were full, with waiting lists for everything. I had not anticipated it being so busy. They had only one cocktail waitress for the entire room, which just isn't enough for 12 tables. It took 45 minutes to get a lousy bottle of water.

As with Texas Station, this is primarily a locals casino. Many of the players clearly knew each other. Play was the standard weak/passive that one usually observes in such places. Easy to beat if you just pick your strong spots, and avoid bluffing, because you're surrounded by calling stations. (Hey, it just occurred to me--maybe that's why they named the casino chain the "Station" casinos!)

"All of a sudden..."

The funny line of the night came from a guy named Joe. Four players were in the hand, and nobody bet at it the whole way. The board ended up showing a straight, which nobody could beat, so the pot was chopped four ways; each player got his $2 back. Joe was at an end seat, and raised his hands like a catcher in baseball, encouraging the dealer to throw the two blue chips his way. She obliged. But at the last nanosecond, the player sitting next to Joe deftly reached out and single-handedly nabbed the two chips in mid-air--a very nice interception. He was just kidding around with his friend, and after pretending to pocket the chips put them down in front of Joe where they belonged.

Joe pointed to his buddy and quipped, "All of a sudden, he became my ex-wife!"


Whiner

I watched one guy win a small pot when he had pocket 8s and the other two 8s came on the flop. His lone opponent had nothing and folded to a small bet on the turn. He whined for five minutes about how he couldn't get paid off, and that it was his unluckiest day in poker.

The only thing worse than a player who whines when he loses is the guy who whines when he wins. (See here for a similar story.)

Don't trust your life to 911

As I was leaving Santa Fe Station, I passed through the intersection of Rancho and Lone Mountain Road, where I saw a very drunk guy stumbling around. He randomly staggered between the sidewalk and Rancho. Cars come along pretty fast on that stretch of this major street, and I was worried that he would stumble out at the wrong time and get hit. So I called 911 on my cell phone to report the situation, and hopefully have the cops take him somewhere safer to sleep it off.

I'm aware that calling 911 from a cell phone doesn't necessarily get you to the right people for help on the first try, because the systen isn't really set up to know where one is calling from. I'm used to having to specify where I am and what service is needed before being transferred to the appropriate call center. So when the call was answered, I quickly explained the location and problem, and heard, "One moment please while I transfer you." OK, that's cool.

Second call answerer. I go through it again. This time I am surprised to hear the "wait while I transfer you" again. A third person answers. I ask, "Do I really have to explain this for a third time?" She says she isn't aware of whatever I may have said to previous people. I'm annoyed, but I rattle off the information yet again. She asks which part of the intersection. I say the southwest corner. She then asks which of the two roads I'm traveling on (Rancho), and which direction. How can that matter, since I'm past it now? But I oblige. Then she wants a detailed description of the man in question--race, age, hair, shirt color and style, pants color and style, etc. After about three of these questions I'm getting seriously irritated, and finally cut her off with this: "Look, if your officers get to the intersection of Rancho and Lone Mountain Road and see a drunk guy stumbling around in the roadway, it's probably the same one I saw. And if he has left and there's a different drunk guy stumbling around into the road, then they can help him."

She apparently took the hint and stopped asking for further information. I still can't see the point of asking for all of those details. I mean, isn't it obvious that if they arrive at the intersection specified and see somebody wandering in the street drunk, that's probably the man in question, regardless of what color shirt he happens to be wearing?

I'm sure glad I wasn't trying to report a rape or murder in progress. It would have been done and the perp long gone before I (1) got transferred to the right agency, and (2) finished answering all of their pointless questions.

Pull up your pants, dude!

This is Kofi Farkye, a 19-year-old college student who got to the final table of the North American Poker Championship (season 6, episode 5 of the World Poker Tour). In addition to the humiliation of being knocked out on a kind of dumb play, he has to live with having neglected to wear a belt when it might have done him the most good.

Don't they have any sort of dress code for this show?

Not only does this guy not how to wear pants, he is apparently an online poker cheater who has been banned from Poker Stars for multi-accounting. See story here.

Annie

I ran into Annie again tonight at the Tuscany poker room, a place I've never seen her before. I used to see her only at the Hilton, but it no longer surprises me to run into her anywhere, because she really gets around--especially if there is a freeroll tournament in the offing for hours played. I've introduced you to Annie before here; I suggest reading that post before this one, so that you have some sense of who I'm talking about.

Seeing her again reminded me of two other Annie stories.

Annie plays a pretty classic tight-aggressive game, and makes her money from the tourists who underestimate her. One day she came into the Hilton and the poker room manager asked, "Are you here to take everyone's money again?" She cupped her hands as if holding an imaginary bowl, transformed her face into that of the saddest, most pathetic street beggar, cocked her head to one side, and plaintively replied, "No, I just want to make enough money to buy a little rice to feed my family." It's hard to convey how funny this was, coming from a player who often needs a wheelbarrow to cash out her winnings.

Another time she was obviously sick, coughing and sniffling, looking like hell. One of the dealers asked why she didn't just stay home that day. Annie looked at him as if he had just asked the world's stupidest question. She scrunched up her face and said, "Because I not dead YET."

I am now actually managing to eke out a decent living playing poker. I do love this game, but still, there are times, when I've been playing too many long sessions in a row, that Annie's answer is about the only one I can come up with for why I'm still sitting there, rather than being home in bed:

Because I'm not dead YET.

Podcast #2

Episode #2 of the Hard-Boiled Poker Radio Show, with another small contribution from moi, is now up here.

A few nice things to do in Vegas (no poker content)

With my sister still in town, I'm taking a few days off from poker, so no new stories are being generated. In the meantime, we bring you this substitute blog content.

Tonight we ate at Lindo Michoacan, which has been voted "Best Mexican Restaurant" by Las Vegas Review-Journal readers five years in a row. I thought it was excellent, and there were several things on the menu that I'd like to go back and try.

Then we went and played a round at the only miniature golf course in the city: King Putt. The guy who owns it used to be a poker dealer at the Hilton, and it was interesting keeping up with the progress, while he was still dealing, of getting business loans, scouting locations, getting permits, etc. He's also a fellow graduate of the University of Illinois, which alone is reason enough to know somebody. (Hey, it worked out for me, Barry Greenstein, Hugh Hefner, and Roger Ebert, right?) He has turned it into a surprisingly nice outfit--looks like he spent a fortune on the Egyptian-themed decorations.

Finally we stopped at Marble Slab Creamery for some truly superb ice cream, just a couple of blocks south of King Putt. I had the banana ice cream with marshmallows mixed in. Mmmmm.

And that was my exciting evening out on the town. I realize that a "proper" Las Vegas fun night is supposed to involve lots of reckless gambling, strippers, night clubs, copious amounts of expensive booze, maybe a hooker, maybe a spontaneous wedding that you don't remember the next day. But I'm content with a nice Mexican meal, miniature golf, catching up on family news, and some high-quality ice cream.

Maybe I don't really belong here....

Bellagio is a nice place to take visitors (slight bonus poker content right at the very end, if you're patient)

My sister is in town for a meeting, so we went out to eat at "In 'n' Out Burger" (her choice--she had never been there) and bowling at Gold Coast (I got a 164 in my second game, including 3 strikes and 4 spares--my best score in years). We're talking high-society outings here.

She had seen the Bellagio fountains for the first time when she was here for the rodeo in December, so we stopped by again. They remain enjoyable no matter how many times you may have seen them before:




Then we went inside the Bellagio to stroll through the conservatory, dressed in its fancy spring attire. I regretted not anticipating this. I would have brought my real camera, instead of the crummy low-resolution cell phone camera. (For much nicer photos, see Vegas Rex's sampling here, as well as the link within that post.) Anyway, here's what we saw:
















As we were about to leave, it dawned on me that one of the biggest poker tournaments on the calendar was taking place right that minute within that very building. So I dragged my sister over to the Fontana Lounge, and sure enough, there was poker being played. Ted Forrest walked right by me, returning from a break. With only my crummy camera and no admittance to the room by spectators, I was reduced to these two pathetic shots:



Above, that's Burt Boutin standing there in the camel jacket, getting in the way of people I actually wanted to take a picture of. He's obnoxious. I didn't really want a picture of him.



OK, see that rectangular light sort of in the middle? Directly below that you see a person seated at the table wearing a white shirt with a black baseball cap on? That's Phil Ivey. And if you look just a hair down and to the right of Phil, the face that is sort of in profile is Men "The Master" Nguyen.

So there's your very slight bonus poker content for this post, right there!

Penn and Teller (no poker content)

I've loved Penn & Teller for maybe 15 years now. I'd watch anytime they went on Letterman, including videotaping so that I could play it back in slow motion and try to figure out whatever trick they were doing. I've seen all of their prime-time TV specials, their 1989 movie "Penn and Teller Get Killed," their three BBC specials about magic in India, China, and Egypt, and I have two of their books. I've watched all of their Showtime series, "Bullshit!" I've listened to Penn's famous "This I Believe" essay about atheism on NPR (their most-searched-for piece). I think I've seen all of the YouTube videos that feature them. I saw their show at the Rio four or five years ago. I even got to participate on stage for the famous "Magic Bullets" trick. I got to speak to them briefly after the show and tell them how much I appreciate all they do for skepticism and libertarian values. (I'm not sure why those two things seem to go hand-in-hand for so many people, but they do.)

And Saturday, I got to see the show again--for free! They do a very cool thing every January, which is offer free tickets to locals who donate blood. A friend of mine gave a pint, and took me to the show for my birthday.

It was as great as I had hoped. About half of the acts were different from what had been in the show the last time I saw it. In the very first one, pictured above, Teller walks onto the stage with his head encased in a concrete block. An audience member is invited onstage. Penn takes her glasses and slips them into his pocket. He has her confirm that an object he produces is a genuine billiard ball, and raps it against Teller's concrete for further verification. After a while, Penn takes a hammer and smashes open the concrete block, and under it we see that Teller is wearing the woman's glasses! The whole time, Teller's hands never move from where you see them in the photo. This is one of those tricks that I would love to see a second time in order to solve the mystery of how it's done. (Actually, I think I have it, and I'll reveal my guess below after the spoiler alert, so you can choose whether to read it or not.)

I loved a bit in which a blindfolded audience member first has knives thrown at her (but not really), then ends up throwing them at Penn (but, again, not really). It's not magic in the traditional sense, because everybody in the joint sees exactly what is happening except for the poor woman up on the stage--but it's still wonderfully entertaining.

I've spent many hours thinking about the "Magic Bullets" trick--easily their most famous illusion. I've Googled it and read just about every description of it people have posted. They specifically ask for audience members with handgun experience, so, predictably, lots of shooting enthusiasts end up talking about their on-stage observations in firearms-related forums. Between my two live viewings of it, having seen it once on television, as well as a YouTube video of an earlier incarnation of the same trick, I'm quite confident now that I have worked out how it is done.

I've debated whether to explain the details. On the one hand, when I first saw the Rio show, Penn had a long monologue in which he talked about the phenomenon of stage magic, and I was impressed by one thing in particular that he said. Paraphasing, it was that you could figure out everything we do if you put your mind to it. You generally don't put in the effort because you enjoy being baffled. It struck me as essentially an open invitation to dissect their performance. On the other hand, I so respect and admire their work both on and off stage that I would feel kind of cheap and sleazy to divulge what I've figured out--particularly when the final confirmation of my ideas came from them so generously giving away free tickets to blood donors.

The latter considerations are outweighing the former in my mind, so for now I'm going to keep it to myself. I'll just say that it's very, very clever and sophisticated, and I would never have even begun to crack it without having had lots of experience with handguns, including making my own ammunition in my basement for practice and competitions. The solution is, I think, highly technical.

It's a great show--the only Vegas act I've seen twice (well, unless you count the "Game Show Spectacular," about which see this post). Read more about the P&T show and its Vegas history here. Then go see it.




SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER

Here's what I think happens in the show-opening eyeglasses trick. When Penn stands next to Teller to rap the billiard ball on the concrete, he slips the glasses to Teller. (I didn't catch him doing this, of course, but in retrospect, it seems like the only possibility. That's why I'd like to see it again, to pay attention during those crucial few seconds, and see if I can verify this hunch.) But then how do they get on Teller's face, when his hands never leave the front corners of the concrete block? Well, I couldn't figure that out until I saw the photo posted above as I was preparing to write this. I think those aren't really Teller's hands. I think they're props, and his arms are free to move around under his suit. You can sort of see a strange bulge right above the big support belt he's wearing. (During the show it occurred to me that his arms must get very tired, being held in that position for so long. Now I think not!) He can therefore put the glasses on once Penn slips them to him. If I'm right about this, it's remarkably simple--yet extremely effective and surprising.

How to win with a full house--in Razz!

I started off with an unraiseworthy A-6-A, intending just to steal, since nobody raised before it got to me. I got only one caller, and when he paired on 4th street, I was more confident that the steal would work. But my lone opponent was having none of it. We both ended up with full houses, but mine was lower, which, in Razz, is better.


PokerStars Game #16873553723: Razz Limit ($0.50/$1.00) - 2008/04/20 - 17:29:51 (ET)
Table 'Coelestina II' 8-max
Seat 2: Pr0fChaos ($26.95 in chips)
Seat 3: Lacrosse9 ($15.80 in chips)
Seat 4: Osgood99 ($22.90 in chips)
Seat 6: Rakewell1 ($19.90 in chips)
Seat 7: Donnersslu ($4.95 in chips)
Seat 8: Tiurin ($18.45 in chips)
Pr0fChaos: posts the ante $0.05
Lacrosse9: posts the ante $0.05
Osgood99: posts the ante $0.05
Rakewell1: posts the ante $0.05
Donnersslu: posts the ante $0.05
Tiurin: posts the ante $0.05
*** 3rd STREET ***
Dealt to Pr0fChaos [3d]
Dealt to Lacrosse9 [Ts]
Dealt to Osgood99 [5s]
Dealt to Rakewell1 [Ad 6h Ac]
Dealt to Donnersslu [Jh]
Dealt to Tiurin [7c]
LTK_888 leaves the table
Donnersslu: brings in for $0.25
Tiurin: folds
Pr0fChaos: folds
Lacrosse9: folds
Osgood99: raises $0.25 to $0.50
Rakewell1: calls $0.50
Donnersslu: folds
*** 4th STREET ***
Dealt to Osgood99 [5s] [5c]
Dealt to Rakewell1 [Ad 6h Ac] [8d]
Rakewell1: bets $0.50
Osgood99: calls $0.50
*** 5th STREET ***
Dealt to Osgood99 [5s 5c] [2d]
Dealt to Rakewell1 [Ad 6h Ac 8d] [8h]
Osgood99: checks
Rakewell1: checks
*** 6th STREET ***
Dealt to Osgood99 [5s 5c 2d] [8c]
Dealt to Rakewell1 [Ad 6h Ac 8d 8h] [4d]
Osgood99: checks
Rakewell1: checks
*** RIVER ***
Dealt to Rakewell1 [Ad 6h Ac 8d 8h 4d] [8s]
Osgood99: checks
Rakewell1: checks
*** SHOW DOWN ***
Osgood99: shows [Ah 2c 5s 5c 2d 8c 5h] (Lo: 2,2,8,5,A)
Rakewell1: shows [Ad 6h Ac 8d 8h 4d 8s] (Lo: A,A,8,6,4)
kosa28 joins the table at seat #1
Rakewell1 collected $2.45 from pot
Rakewell1 said, "lol"
*** SUMMARY ***
Total pot $2.55 Rake $0.10
Seat 2: Pr0fChaos folded on the 3rd Street (didn't bet)
Seat 3: Lacrosse9 folded on the 3rd Street (didn't bet)
Seat 4: Osgood99 showed [Ah 2c 5s 5c 2d 8c 5h] and lost with Lo: 2,2,8,5,A
Seat 6: Rakewell1 showed [Ad 6h Ac 8d 8h 4d 8s] and won ($2.45) with Lo: A,A,8,6,4
Seat 7: Donnersslu folded on the 3rd Street
Seat 8: Tiurin folded on the 3rd Street (didn't bet)

More evidence that online poker is rigged

I've previously shown you definitive, irrefutable evidence that Full Tilt Poker is totally rigged--see this post. Well, here is more proof, as if any more were needed. It is worth noting that all the money got in before the flop, and I had two of the three opponents covered.

Oh, maybe I forgot to mention that once in a great while, the sites are rigged in my favor, and I don't see how anybody can reasonably object to that. You can view the full animation of the hand at the very cool "Poker X Factor" site here.

When the cards were revealed before the flop played out, my heart sank, because I knew that beating the J-J would be difficult with two of the other aces and one of the other kings in view. Then when I saw the queen on the flop, I thought it was basically over, and I'd end up with the third-best hand. It took a couple of seconds for the nut flush to register in my aged brain.

That hand was worth almost 16,000 chips when the blinds were still 80 and 160--not bad, eh? It pushed me into one of the top spots for a while, as well as collecting me two simultaneous bounties (this was a knockout 90-player SNG). Alas, variance caught up to me and I finished just out of the money in 14th place. But that one hand had sufficient entertainment value to be worth the staggering $3 entry fee.

By the way, this was my first shot at this format of tournament. I hadn't ever tried a sit-and-go of more than one table, but this post from Ted at Red Bull and Poker convinced me that these $3, 90-player tourneys might be a worthwhile investment of time. Just on the basis of my first try at it, I'd say he's right about the horrendous quality of play, suggesting a reasonably positive EV. He was also right about how fast they fill up, which surprised me. Not wanting to sit in limbo for a long time was a primary reason I didn't try the larger SNGs previously, but even though I was one of the first three or four to register, the whole thing was ready to go in maybe four minutes. I will definitely be trying this tournament format again.

Not that there's anything wrong with that...

This is a sensitive subject, one that I've toyed with writing about for months. On Sunday I decided to post about it, but still I put it off, because I'm not quite sure what it is I have to say about it.

But here's the question: Are there any gay professional poker players?

Well, the first problem is defining "professional poker player." There are probably many thousands of us low-level grinders squeaking by. Never mind that group. I'm really thinking about the upper crust of the poker world. Suppose we limit the field to, roughly, the group that did qualify or would have qualified for the Professional Poker Tour a couple of years ago. That field was somewhere between 150 and 200 players. That might be the most restrictive, limiting definition of poker pro that one could reasonably come up with. (They included few if any online tournament specialists, and not many cash-game specialists, so it is indeed a narrow selection.)

Statistically, it would be quite remarkable if there were not at least one gay person in a group of that size, wouldn't it? Yet I am not aware of a single name-brand player who has identified himself or herself as gay or lesbian.

Nearly every professional sport has experienced one or more players coming out of the closet. How can poker be different?

What brought this from an occasional idle passing thought to the point of deciding to post about it was Sunday's broadcast of the first installment of the NBC heads-up championship. In particular, I hadn't previously seen Tom "Durrrr" Dwan on television. During his first match with Phil Hellmuth, I was immediately struck by his speech patterns and non-verbal mannerisms. They weren't quite Jack-from-"Will-and-Grace"/Truman Capote/Harvey Fierstein flagrant--but they weren't exactly subtle, either. They were quite typical of what I've observed in many, many uncloseted gay men.

Since then, I've looked up several on-line video clips of other interviews with him, and seen the same things repeated. I've also searched his name with "gay" and found that at least several other people in various public forums have concluded or assumed that Dwan is gay, though never with any evidence specified.

I hasten to add that I have exactly zero information on Tom Dwan's personal life. I don't know if he's gay or straight or somewhere in between, and as far as I know he hasn't publicly addressed the matter. Furthermore, I honestly don't care, as far as the guy himself is concerned. As a good libertarian, I'm about as purely live-and-let-live as one can get. I'm interested only because of the rather striking (when you stop to think about it) absence of any gay high-visibility poker players, and the possibility that he might be the first to break ranks, so to speak.

Even if it's not Dwan, sooner or later, inevitably, somebody that we all recognize from televised and/or online poker events (even if it's somebody who is not currently well known) will out himself. Every time this little curiosity has occurred to me, I've wondered how this incredibly macho, sexist, swaggering, "I am the MAN" poker world will react to the news. My guess is that there will be a lot of public quoting of the famous Seinfeld line (a la the title of this post), accompanied by a lot of quiet, private, nasty bashing. You can imagine the kind of things that will be written by the scads of anonymous contributors to the poker forums--those who can't make a comment about a female professional player that doesn't involve judging her attractiveness or lack thereof. I don't envy whoever it is who takes on (voluntarily or otherwise) the role of the first openly gay poker pro. I think it will be a difficult mantle to wear.

And just in case the very writing of this post makes readers wonder--no, I'm not. Not that there's anything wrong with that....