Free Sahara crap!

My friend Las Vegas Michael (@LasVegasMichael), who does content for AllVegasPoker.com, is trying to get himself to over 1000 followers on Twitter. As part of that campaign, he has been doing Vegas poker trivia questions. First one to reply with the correct answer wins one of the many, many pieces of Sahara history that he purchased in the casino's closing sale. As he typically phrases it, winner gets "free Sahara crap."

One of the questions today was, "Name at least FOUR poker rooms that opened AFTER 2004 that have since closed, and NOT re-opened. This is a Med to Hard strength question." I quickly replied with all that I could think of: "Hilton. Rampart. Gold Coast. Fiesta Henderson. Hacienda. Paris. Plaza." I wasn't sure offhand that all of them had opened after 2004, but I was pretty sure that at least four of them had, and I knew that they all qualified for the closure part of the question. I assumed that wrong guesses included in the list wouldn't count against me.

I was apparently both right and first. So when Michael arrived at Treasure Island tonight for the mixed-game extravaganza, he brought me my swag: the Sahara shot glass seen above. It's my first shot glass, of any kind, ever! I'm not sure what I'll use it for, since don't do shots, and it's hard to quench a thirst with a thimbleful of water. But I'm still glad to have my own little piece of Sahara history free Sahara crap.

You can get some, too; I have it on good authority that more trivia questions are coming soon.

Good riddance, Sahara

Grange95 just put up a blog post with this title, which I liked enough to steal borrow. The sincerest form of flattery, you know.

I have done 15 prior posts with the Sahara label. Few if any of them have anything good to say about the place, except that it has always served as a reliable money-maker when I can take enough anti-nausea medication to be able to stand being there for a session. As I recently noted, the Sahara is 2nd or 3rd on my list of profitable poker rooms, when counting those that I have been to a minimum of ten times. But I always hated being there. It was smoky, noisy, full of annoying players whose bad habits were ignored by staff, and it had the worst dealers in town.

I wrote about the awful playing environment here. I wrote about the awful dealers here and here and here. I wrote about the awful players here. The only good Sahara story in my archives is that of one of the most horrendously bad beats I've ever inflicted, told here.

Almost four years ago I wrote about the Sahara poker room, "I really detest the place. I've never--not even once--had what I would consider an enjoyable time there." That remains true today, the day that wretched old casino closed its doors for the last time.

Strange sentence

I just got home from a late-night session at the Sahara. During the course of the poker game, one player had occasion to utter the following sentence to another: "If you hadn't taken out your teeth, I would have won that pot."

I opined to the speaker that those exact words had probably never been spoken at a poker table in the entire history of the game.

There is, of course, a story behind why that sentence was appropriate. But (1) it's way too late at night and I'm too tired for a long post, and (2) I think it might be more fun to just leave you all wondering!

Miscellaneous stories and observations from the last couple of nights of poker

1.

I played at the Sahara last night, for the first time in (checking records--hold on a sec) seven months. I was very surprised to find in my buy-in a couple of the chips shown above. In the three years I've lived here, the Sahara has never had even a single commemorative chip anywhere to be seen. I like such little treasures, of course. But I'm left wondering: With all of the events, holidays, conventions, etc., that have occurred in the past however-many years, was "Bikefest 2009" really the most significant one, the big thing that finally caused some executive in the casino to say, "By Jove, we have got to get us poker chips celebrating this"?


2.

While I was playing at the MGM Grand tonight, my friend Cardgrrl was playing in a home game somewhere in the D.C. area. She posted a Twitpic along with this message: "Just win a big hand on this board. Can you guess what I had? Hint: Thanks @pokergrump :-) http://twitpic.com/jbm8o"

The photo was this:



In a text message to me, she confirmed that, yes, she really did have 2-4 offsuit there. What's more, she called a pre-flop raise with it! The pot she won was $80 or so. (They apparently use tournament chips in this game, devalued by a factor of 100.) I have no idea what the action was, or what her opponent held.

I was so proud of her. Naturally, I texted her right back to ask if she is now a believer, and if we would be seeing a conversion-story blog post. Her response: "Ummmm. Let's see... NAH!"

Sigh. She has plenty of evidence. See here, and here, e.g. But some people are just stubborn, I guess. With this refusal to accept the obvious fact that 2-4 is the most powerful hand in poker, I'm afraid that, as I have told her privately, she is good, but she will never become great. It's so sad.


3.

Last December I blogged here about how the MGM Grand had been like Kryptonite to me, but that I had finally broken the curse with a win. A month ago I reported that it was continuing to be good to me.

I'm pleased to say that that trend continues. I have chalked up four winners in a row, averaging $252. I'm still at a net negative because the first few losses I had there (this was mostly back in 2006, after which I stayed away from the place for a long time) were unusually large ones. But the trend is clearly set.

This tends to confirm my suspicion that there wasn't anything really mysterious going on--it was just a result of variance acting all in one direction over a small sample set, perhaps combined, after the first two or three visits, with some subtle fatalism creeping into my mindset and creating a self-fulfilling prophecy. Once those two things are broken, poker can get back to normal. (And, fortunately, for me, "normal" = "usually winning.") In fact, I'm kind of getting to like the joint. All signs point to it becoming a more frequent hangout for me.


4.

One of the small things that will contribute to that happening is that this evening I discovered a different restroom. The most obvious one to use, right by the Stage Deli (incidentally, this is the same Stage Deli that sells wonderful GIANT COOKIES, to which I treat myself every time I play at MGM now), is small, cramped, usually overcrowded for its capacity, and not cleaned regularly enough. Using it has always been a distinctly unpleasant experience.

Tonight it was just too crowded to tolerate, so I decided to go in search of an alternative. Not knowing which way to turn, I just continued in the same direction--away from the poker room past the deli and restrooms. I was rewarded for my adventurousness. (Yes, looking for a different restroom in a casino is what counts as "adventure" in my life. Pathetic, eh?)

About 50 steps past the restrooms you come to the "West Wing Bar." Just walk right through it, enjoying the piano player/singer on the way, and on the other side you will find the bar's own set of restrooms. These are clearly not MGM Grand standard-issue, but designed to go with the bar. The lighting is low. There is actual decor inside--slate gray in the men's--with, of all things, real potpourri in wicker baskets between the sinks. The room is spacious, infrequently used (judging my my two trips tonight), and quiet. It makes for a surprisingly effective respite from the cacophony of the casino floor.

But don't tell anybody else, OK? Let's keep this our private little secret.


5.

On the negative side, the MGM Grand's parking garage is right up there among the worst-designed of such structures in the city. I think it is topped in badness by the ones attached to Imperial Palace and Hard Rock, but it scores a solid third-worst. It's too late at night for me to feel like elaborating, but I'll just say that when I'm driving in it I feel lost, and when I'm a pedestrian in it I feel perpetually endangered by the vehicular traffic. That's not a good combination.


6.

I had a major cooler of a hand last night at the Sahara. I had the top full house, and lost to a straight flush. There were only two exact two-card starting hands that had me beat: pocket 5s to make quads on this double-paired board, and the two cards that would complete the only possible straight flush. So, not surprisingly, my opponent and I raised and reraised each other on the river until we were both all in. I thought he might have the same hand I did, or a lower full house, or maybe even the nut flush. I saw the other two possibilties, but didn't want to fall prey to "monsters under the bed" syndrome. So I lost nearly all my chips.

I'm telling you this in order to comment about my opponent's reaction. First, when I called his all-in bet, I immediately showed my cards, without waiting for him. I don't usually do that, but just felt like it here. He gave me a mild slow-roll by issuing this speech before the reveal: "I have to apologize to you for this, sir." Then he showed the stone-cold nuts.

OK, so that was bad enough. But then he kept trying to assuage me. As he was stacking up the chips, and I was counting to see how little I had left, he called out to me to get my attention, then gave me a "nice hand" kind of table thump. He told me I played it fine and just got unlucky. He smiled and tried to get me to smile back.

Bollocks. I hate crap like that. Just leave me alone. You won, you have the money--can't you let it go at that? What are you, my mother or my therapist, feeling some need to make me feel less bad about handing over my stack? I mean, if he is actually feeling guilty about it (and I see no reason that he should--I certainly don't when I come out on the good side of such clashes), then give me the money back to get rid of the shame. But if you're not feeling guilty, then what's all the BS that seems designed to make you feel less bad about it?

Look, dude, you're not a sufficiently skilled emotional manipulator to be able to make such a loss sting any less than it does, so don't bother trying. Maybe I'm the only person in the world who feels this way, but you're adding to my annoyance rather than relieving it. (I doubt that that was his intention--he seemed like a genuinely nice person.) Besides, it's just not your job to make me feel better.

To add to my misery, it made me think of all the stuff I've read from Mike Caro about being the person at the table that the fishies don't much mind losing to--becoming their friend and confidante and supporter and cheerleader, so that they can continue to put their money in bad and not notice or not mind that that's what they're doing. Which made me wonder, "Is that what this guy is doing for me? Does he see me as the live one here, the one that needs TLC so as not to get mad or despondent and leave the game?" Because if that's what he was thinking, well, it just makes me even more irritated.

So here's my message: Just take the money and shut the hell up about it.

More on the Sahara poker room robbery

See news story here.

It strikes me as very strange that those are the best photos they could pull out of surveillance coverage.

Non-poker things annoy me, too

But you probably already knew that....

Here's the latest example. While at the Sahara tonight, this sign caught my attention:




Sorry, but my new camera phone, though a far sight better than the old one, doesn't do too well in low-light situations. (No flash.)

Anyway, the first thing that I wonder is about the phrase, "Steak the way it used to be." Has there been some change in steak that nobody told me about? Is it really vastly different than "it used to be," so that one has to seek out specific, rare restaurants that will prepare it whatever that old way was? Because I'm not aware of steak having fundamentally changed over the decades (well, except for cattle now being mostly corn-fed, not to mention injected with various steroids and antibiotics and who know what else), I can't get my mind around why one needs to find a retro chef to get steak the way it used to be.

The second thing that bugs me about the sign is the inadvertantly infelicitous phrase (which may be hard to read in the photo), "Just off the casino floor."

Did nobody involved in designing, printing, and erecting this sign notice that that phrase, positioned after "Steak the way it used to be," might conjure in the mind of the reader an image of steak being dropped on the casino floor, then picked up and immediately served to the restaurant's patrons? It's the first thing that occurs to me; that they are trying to convey some sort of vague directions to the restaurant only becomes apparent as an afterthought. (And, by the way, given the size of the casino, "Just off the casino floor" is about as unhelpful as directions could possibly be.)

You all have no idea how hard it is to be me, feeling continuously bombarded by things that annoy the hell out of me, while everybody else strolls comfortably past signs like this, apparently neither noticing nor being troubled by them.

What happened at the Sahara?

I was at the Sahara buffet for dinner tonight (pretty awful--can't recommend it), and as I was leaving, I passed the poker room. The "cage" area was cordoned off with yellow police tape, and there were several police officers hanging around. This was about 20 minutes ago. Most obvious conclusion is that there was a robbery of the poker cash. If anybody knows, please speak up in the comments.


Addendum

It appears that my guess was correct. Here's the first news item on it, though with practically no details:

http://www.lasvegasnow.com/Global/story.asp?S=9557629


Addendum

The text of the story at that link changes as they get more information. Here's what it says now (11:40 p.m. Friday night):

Las Vegas Metro Police are investigating an armed robbery at the poker room
inside the Sahara Hotel and Casino.

Police say the robbery happened just before 6:00 p.m. The robbery was
to the Sahara, not a player. No word on how much money taken or if a weapon was
used.

No one was injured.

This is the kind of thing that makes me wonder if reporters even think about what they're writing. If it isn't clear to you what I mean, let me make it more obvious:

"Police are investigating an ARMED robbery.... No word on how much money taken or IF A WEAPON WAS USED."

Duh!

Another change at the Sahara

I forgot to mention that I snapped these photos at the Sahara the other night. They have new felt on the tables. They used to have green Speed Cloth, which I erroneously said here was only to be found in Vegas at Fitzgeralds. A commenter reminded me that Sahara had it, too. But no longer. So now I was retroactively right!

You can't quite see it, but I took the first shot when I did because the flop was 2-2-4, once again showing that had somebody had the wisdom to be playing the 2-4 there, the pot would be his.

Another reason to avoid the Sahara

As if having the worst dealers in town weren't enough, last night the Sahara gave me another reason to stay away. There was a horrible, pounding bass beat resounding through the poker room. It was coming from a new show that recently started in the theater a little way down the hall: "Fuego Raw Talent Live," about which you can read more here. There is a gift shop associated with the show, and they had loudspeakers set up in it. In other words, the noise wasn't just bleeding out through the theater doors; they actively go out of their way to impose it on casino patrons who are not attending the show. As I got closer to check out where it was coming from, it seemed that there actually was some sort of music beyond just the bass beat, but that's all I could hear from the poker room. It was horrible--loud enough to drown out the overhead canned music, and loud enough to start giving me a headache after 15 minutes or so. I asked the poker room staff about it, and they said that everybody complained, but they could do nothing about it. The show lets out at about 10 p.m., but the awful pounding continued until about 10:15. It was seriously so bad that I will never play poker there again while it is going on, which means going only on Wednesdays (when the show is dark) or after about 10:15.

Nice work, Sahara. You start off by having the worst dealers in town, add to that snatching the biggest percentage juice from your tournament prize pools of any place in town to rip off your customers, let people smoke about 3 feet from the table so as to make a complete joke of the "non-smoking" status of the room, give no comps to players, and now add an utterly intolerable sonic irritant to the mix. Hey, Sahara poker room--are you deliberately trying to drive away business, or is this all just a massive coincidence that makes it look like that's your goal?

The Sahara moves to cement its reputation

Almost 18 months ago, I wrote a post titled "Where are the worst dealers in town?" The answer, I concluded, was the Sahara. Lately the Luxor has been trying hard to snatch the title away, but last night the Sahara made another strong claim to maintain its supremacy.

On my right was a guy who just wouldn't stop talking about the hand in progress. He felt some pathologic compulsion to constantly announce what cards he thought other players had. The first time he did it, for example, was when I bet at a flop containing two clubs, and he said, "You've got the flush draw, huh?" as he mucked, while there were still two people left to act on my bet. (Actually I had one of those lovely combined flush and straight draws, plus the button--but no matter.) He did it again a short time later, and I shot the dealer a dirty "Are you going to say something about that?" look. The dealer did indeed act appropriately that time and reminded Loudmouth not to make such comments.

Dealer #2 comes into the box. Loudmouth rattles off his third remark about what he thinks somebody has. I'm sitting next to the dealer, so I lean over and quietly tell him that this is the third offense, and the guy has already been given one warning. He nods, and when the hand is over halts the action, gets Loudmouth's attention (he is wearing headphones, and everything he says is a shout, because he has no idea how loud he is), and tells him that he cannot talk about the hand while there are still decisions pending. Loudmouth protests that he doesn't really know what anybody has, he's just guessing like everybody else does, and besides, "everybody says the same kind of things." Maybe in your home game, pal, but this ain't your basement. The dealer politely but firmly explains that he might give ideas to other players, and it's against the rules. Loudmouth concedes the point and promises not to do it again.

But, predictably, within a few minutes he spouts off with speculation #4. Again this dealer takes appropriate action without me needing to prompt him. (Note that he is one of the exceptions to the Sahara's worst-dealers rap.) He again stops the game after the hand, has Loudmouth take off his headphones, and quite sternly reprimands him, making his point more forcefully than before.

Now we get to dealer #3, a young woman named Jennifer. On just her first or second hand at our table, the river puts a fourth spade on the board. Four players are in the hand, not including Loudmouth. As soon as that river lands, he pipes up, "One of you has got to have the spades!" You may recall that I lost a pot at Bill's a couple of months ago under nearly identical circumstances, when somebody speaking improperly caused a player to check his hand for a flush when he was otherwise about to muck it.

I recognize that Jennifer has no idea what has gone on before, so I lean over and tell her that Loudmouth has already received three formal warnings about discussing the hand in progress. I naturally assume that this information will spur her to action. The logical thing for her to do is call the floor, but the minimal thing to do is issue yet another warning. The hand ends, though, and she says nothing. I wait for the next hand to get played out, thinking perhaps she is gathering her thoughts about which course of action to take or what exactly to say, and yet she does nothing. I don't know if she's deaf, lazy, intimidated, indifferent to enforcing rules, or just an imbecile, but one way or another, it appears that she's not inclined to do her job. So I ask her to call the floor, which she does.

I explain the situation. Floor guy is very cool, handles things just right. He tells Loudmouth no talking about the hand in progress. Loudmouth first protests that he hasn't told his side of the story. (What side is that, sir? Would you like dealer #2 to step over from the next table and verify that he gave you two warnings in one down for exactly the same thing?) Floor guy tells him, "I wasn't here, so I don't know what happened. If I don't get called over again, I'll assume you were innocent. But if I get called to handle it again, I'll know you were guilty and we'll be asking you to leave."

Loudmouth apparently decides that he can't play under such intolerable conditions, and picks up his chips and leaves. Too bad, really, because he was an atrocious player from whom it would have been easy to win more money. But just as you shouldn't compromise on rules enforcement because somebody is a famous player (e.g., Hellmuth), one shouldn't compromise on them just because somebody is a horrible, fishy player (after he has been given fair notice and warning of the rules, of course).

Protecting the integrity of the game is arguably the dealer's primary function. After all, players can, if necessary, deal the cards, get the pot right, and award the pot among themselves, as is done in home games the world over, and as used to be done in California card rooms until fairly recently. Yes, a dedicated dealer tends to be faster and more accurate at those jobs, but the most important role is acting as a neutral referee, keeping everything legal and fair to all players. When a demonstrably incompetent and/or uncaring dealer like Jennifer flagrantly refuses to perform that most critical function, she is rendered essentially worthless. For only the third time in my Vegas years, I gave her the only penalty I can: no tips for the rest of the evening. (The first time was at the Hard Rock; the second time was recently at the Flamingo.)

Worthless dealers--the Sahara is full of 'em.


Ironically, as I was leaving an hour or so later, I saw the person who had inspired the original "worst dealers" post--Barry, a former Hilton poker dealer. (Hmmm. That sounds wrong. He prompted that post not by being one of the worst dealers--far from it--but by asking me my thoughts on where one encounters the worst dealers.) He was playing the $2-4 game at a table behind me. Weird coincidence, huh?

On an unrelated subject, Barry related that he has been reading this blog, including my deuce-four stories, and had one of his own to tell. He busted out of a tournament when he played 2-4 and saw a flop of 2-2-7, only to lose to a player with pocket 7s. Ouch! Well, as I pointed out recently, on extremely rare occasions, somebody with a far, far weaker starting hand will catch an astronomically unlikely draw-out on the 2-4, and there's just nothing you can do about it. Such freak occurrences should not dissuade smart players from keeping faith in the only hand that is intrinsically more powerful than pocket aces.

ARGH!

Sahara last night. It is of considerable significance to the story that they recently added high-hand jackpots there.

I have 5-5. Somebody raises to $12. I call, as do several others. Flop is A-10-6. Original raiser bets. Second player calls. I might call the raiser if everybody else folded, because he could have whiffed. But with no flush draws and only gutshot straight draws on this board, the first call almost surely means that at least one of the two players now has a pair that has me beat, and there are still a couple of people yet to act behind me. So I fold.

Turn is a 5, making my set. River is the case 5, making my quads.

Jackpot for quad 5s is $236.

Argh!

A couple of hours later, the same dealer is back in the box. The game is short-handed, with just five of us. We're all pretty much playing any two cards. I'm on the button and join the limpers with 10-6 of hearts.

Flop is 7h-8c-9h. I have flopped a straight with a flush draw and gutshot straight flush draw. When it is checked to me, I bet small--$6. One caller. Turn is a blank. I bet $12. Fold.

I show my cards. The last guy to fold asks the dealer to rabbit hunt. (I never have made such a request, and never will.) She burns one, then turns over the 8 of hearts.

ARGH!

I'm probably near the top end of players in terms of being emotionally resistant to getting myself mentally tormented by "woulda coulda shoulda" syndrome. I realize that it would be completely irrational to play the first hand differently, in the hopes of hitting runner-runner quads (about a 1/2500 shot), or the second hand differently, in the hopes of making the straight flush (about a 2% shot on the turn)--especially since the jackpot was only $63.

But though I've tried hard to extinguish it, I do retain a flicker of the humanity with which I was born, and knowing how things turned out, it's hard not to feel a twinge of regret for not having gone for it.


The sketch above is "A Near Miss." See here.

Reversal of fortune?

I rarely mention how I've been running because (1) it's nobody's business, (2) I don't think anybody cares, outside of my family and closest friends, (3) it's not very interesting, (4) I'd like to think that I have interesting stories and commentary independent of whether I've been winning or losing lately, (5) when I'm winning, saying so feels like bragging, and when I'm losing, saying so feels like whining. So I mostly just shut up about the whole subject.

But I can't tell you about tonight without the recent background. August has been, well, horrible. Terrible. Awful. Painful. Grotesque. Unfathomable. Disastrous. Get the picture? I've lost more in the first half of August than in any full month since I started playing poker. Before tonight, 10 of my last 11 and 12 of my last 15 sessions had been losers, a streak unlike any I've ever had before. The downward skid in my cumulative-results graph is shocking; it looks like I've fallen off a cliff. It has been apocalyptically bad.

(This doesn't include online play. As I mentioned recently, until a couple of weeks ago, online poker has been just a few tens of dollars here and there, not even enough to bother cashing out, let alone set up a detailed accounting system for. But even though the online income is picking up, it's like a bucketful of water on what has been a house burning down.)

Everything has gone wrong. Bluffs get picked off. Strong hands get called and sucked out on. I read opponents wrong, folding when I should call or raise and vice-versa. I get second nuts beaten by the nuts time after time after time.

Lemme tell ya, this sort of streak does things to even the soundest of minds. I started sessions thinking that I shouldn't even waste time playing, because I could get the same outcome in a lot less time by just handing a few C-notes to randomly selected strangers sitting in the poker room and go home. And, of course, once you start thinking fatalistically like that, it utterly saps the self-confidence, and adversely affects the decision-making process, causing a cascading effect, a self-fulfilling prophecy, a downward spiral out of control. You begin to believe that you know absolutely nothing about this stupid game, and then you start playing in a way that proves it.

I've always taken a day off anytime I have two losing days in a row, in order to sort of reset myself mentally and emotionally, and feel like that bit of nastiness is well behind me before I start afresh. That hasn't worked here.

It feels like hell. It feels like being in a war zone with no escape. It feels like being unable to wake up from a nightmare. It's Kafkaesque.

If you've never read Larry Phillips's wonderful description of a bad losing streak that I posted here as my first-ever "Poker Gem," please go do so now. It is spot-on. I'm sure nobody has ever penned a more true-to-life portrayal of how thoroughly it corrodes one's mind and poker skills.

But he's leaving something out. He's neglecting the added level of sheer panic that begins to set in when you have to win in order to buy groceries, pay the rent, keep the car running, etc. The spectre of homelessness and hunger adds a depth of crushing fear that I don't think you can appreciate unless you've experienced it.

Yeah, I have enough $ in reserve by now that this downswing hasn't bankrupted me. But if I were to continue to spew this badly for the rest of the month, the needle would be into the red zone, with no gas station for miles around, and I would be in deep doo-doo. I had to snap the bad streak. But paradoxically, the more that one feels that one must win, the more one tends to force situations, to try to wrest a victory when it is not to be. Panic and desperation kill the kind of relaxed "flow" without which poker simply cannot be played well.

So I set out for the Venetian tonight with dread and foreboding. I even had to stop at the ATM on the way there to pick up cash with which to play. I hate that. It's the walk of shame, the most concrete proof of failure. I could not completely dismiss the thought that I was taking this money out of the bank and was just going to give it away across a poker table, and how stupid that was, and how I would be better off just staying home and watching TV for the next, oh, year or two.

Like I said, this sort of streak does crazy things to the mind. I've even found myself entertaining thoughts that maybe this new PokerStars sweatshirt I've been wearing is what's bringing me bad luck, because it was right around the time it arrived in the mail that I started losing. It's the sort of silly, superstitious thought that I would normally laugh off the instant it occurred to me. But desperation sometimes trumps rationality, and I can't easily shrug off even the most far-out ideas that offer to make understandable what is otherwise beyond comprehension.

Something peculiar happened when I got to the Venetian. The parking spot I found was between two Honda Fits. Just about as soon as Honda released the Fit to the U.S. market a couple of years ago, I decided that that's probably what my next car will be, when my current one finally collapses into a pile of shards, like Oliver Wendall Holmes's Wonderful One-Hoss Shay. They're great little cars, just right for my needs. But demand for them has vastly exceeded Honda's initial projections, so they haven't been making enough of them, and it's still quite uncommon to see them on the streets.

With the way my thinking has been warped and distorted and made vulnerable to all manner of loopy ideas by this losing streak, something in my head clicked about this fortuitous parking spot. It's a sign of some sort--an affirmation that, yes, things will turn around and I'll be able to afford a new car when I need one. No, I don't seriously believe deep down that the universe caused these two cars to be where they were just as a personal manifestation to me, but my ability to banish such absurdities has been mightily compromised.

Things started OK inside the Venetian poker room. I had increased my starting stack by $50 or so in the first hour. I had the strategically best seat at the table, with the loose-passive frequently bluffing bad player on my right, and the ultimate rock on my immediate left.* But when I got pocket kings and got into a raising war with another player, it turned out he had the other two kings, and we just got our money back. (Still, that seemed a vast improvement from how things had been running for me lately.) Then I lost my whole stack to the loose-passive horrible player the one time in the evening he found A-A. Argh! It's happening again! The streak is going to continue!

But I rebought and patiently kept looking for good spots. I built things up slowly again. Finally the moment of truth arrived. Mr. Loose-Passive's wife came to get him. He gave her the "let me play one more hand" line--and it was one too many. He had J-Q to my A-Q, and when a Q hit the flop and another on the turn, his chips became mine. I was up by a net profit of $210, and I took the money and ran, before the poker gods could notice that they had slipped up and let me win.

(By the way, Ron Rose was at the Venetian, two tables away, playing $1-2 no-limit. It seemed very strange to me that he would be playing at that level, when he can and does routinely buy himself into $10,000 tournaments.)

I also left because it was 11:15. The Sahara has an 11:00 p.m. tournament, and catching players on tilt from busting out of that tournament has been one of the most consistently profitable moves for me. I hate the Sahara poker room and nearly everything about it. But it's a cash cow, and has been the way I've broken bad streaks in the past. (My records tell me I've played 12 sessions there, 10 highly profitable and 2 small losses.) I had hopes that it would serve that purpose yet again.

I sat down in Seat 1. This proved to be a fortuitous choice, because the table maniac was in Seat 10, on my immediate right. (I didn't know this at the time, of course.) On my very first hand, I saw A-A, just as I heard Mr. Maniac announce a raise to $10. I reraised to $35. It folded back around to him. He looked at my stack (I had bought in for my usual $100), then said, "Let's get it all in." I replied, "That sounds OK to me." He had K-10. But they were sooted! A flop of A-10-8, with only one of his suit, left him drawing very thin, and a second 8 on the turn gave me an unbeatable aces full. I doubled up on my first hand. (The guy was a very good sport about it. Nothing deterred him from having fun, bless his heart. He quipped, with faux shock and dismay, "That guy cracked my king-ten!")

The very next hand, Mr. Maniac announces before he looks at his cards that if there's a face card, he's going all-in. He peeks, says, "I've got one," and shoves. I have A-K. I am not afraid, especially now that I'm playing with his chips. I call, show my cards, and hit a king on the turn. He mucks without showing, and rebuys.

A few hands later I flop two pair and raise Mr. Maniac's flop bet yet again. This time he seems to have learned his lesson and reluctantly folds top pair. I show. I want this table to be afraid of me. It seems to work. From then on, when I bet or raise, I get only token opposition. Now, this isn't really the best way to build up a stack, because hands end early, before a lot of chips get into the middle. But given recent history, tonight Ill be content with small, safe steps forward.

Finally, after about an hour, and after a dry spell of cards, I decide to throw a curve. I raise from the cutoff position with 7-9 offsuit in a straddled pot. The straddler is my only caller. The flop is J-10-X. Nothing for me there except a gutshot straight draw. My opponent checks. I make the continuation bet. He calls. Uh-oh. Now what do I do? Well, I guess not everything can go my way in a session.

Or maybe it can, because the dealer just put out an unbelievable 8 on the turn, giving me a jack-high straight--the second nuts. I'm only beat if he happened to be playing Q-9, which seems incredibly unlikely. He checks again, and I move all-in. He calls. He has A-J for top pair/top kicker, and is already drawing dead, poor guy. It was sick, sick, sick. But am I giving back the chips? Nooooooooooo.

Soon thereafter, I felted yet another player when I flopped top two pair (K-J) to his flopped top and bottom pair (K-7).

Once again, I got the impression that this was as good as things were going to get, and I should hightail it out of there before the chips started migrating back to where they had come from.

So between the lovely Venetian and the nasty Sahara I managed to erase about a quarter of the deficit I had accumulated thus far in August. For once, I'll be thrilled if I end the month having broken even. Maybe tonight was the first step toward achieving that goal. Whatever happens the rest of the month, tonight was a breathtaking turnaround. All of a sudden, winning was as easy and automatic as losing had been before.

But I'll tell you, next time I set out to play, I'm gonna keep driving around the parking garage until I find two Fits to park between. And I'm leaving that damn unlucky sweatshirt at home.



*This guy was far and away the tightest player I've ever seen. It was astonishing. The first time I saw him voluntarily put chips into the pot I was so startled that I checked the clock. It had been exactly 90 minutes since I sat down. He put in a pre-flop raise. The guy on my right called, then called again on the flop and turn. Mr. Rock had--say it with me, because you all already know--pocket aces, and won. He stayed another 45 minutes, never played another hand except for his blinds, and with them he never once called a raise before the flop or a bet after the flop. He appears to be that rarest of poker life forms: the guy who literally plays only pocket aces. Maybe he changes it up now and then with pocket kings when he's feeling adventurous, but it was still quite amazing.

X-22 sighting

Fans of televised tournament poker will likely recognize Paul "X-22" Magriel in the above photo. He's hard to miss, being one of the--how can one say this kindly?--most peculiar characters in the poker world.

As I mentioned in a previous post today (http://pokergrump.blogspot.com/2008/01/i-dont-like-eskimo-clark.html), I spent some time this afternoon watching the first couple of episodes of the Professional Poker Tour. One of the players at the featured table was Magriel, whom I have seen before on WPT and other such broadcasts.

After I left the Poker Palace (see immediately preceding post, http://pokergrump.blogspot.com/2008/01/poker-palace.html), I went to the Sahara. I really dislike the place, but it's one of my most consistent profit centers, and I was already nasty in cigarette smoke, so I decided to hit it. They had only one no-limit game going, and only one seat available. I was stunned to sit down with none other than Paul Magriel on my right. He is easily the most recognizable "name" player I've ever shared a table with.

I have no idea whether he lives in town or is just visiting. I also have no idea why somebody who can routinely either buy himself into or get staked for $10,000 tournaments was playing a $1-$3 cash game at the Sahara late into a Sunday night. It couldn't have been for fun, because he didn't appear to be having any.

An even weirder coincidence is that this afternoon I read the first review I've come across of a brand-new poker tournament strategy book titled (strangely) Kill Everyone, the sequel to Kill Phil. And guess what Magriel was doing between hands? Yep, he was reading Kill Everyone.

I remembered reading a year or two ago that Magriel, who long ago wrote what is apparently still considered the definitive strategy guide for backgammon (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paul_Magriel), was teaming up with Gus Hansen to write a poker strategy book. I took the opportunity tonight to ask about how this project was coming. He told me it had been cancelled, and Hansen is writing his own book instead. I told him, quite sincerely, that that was a shame, because that combination of authors had potential to make a truly interesting and groundbreaking book. He said, with what I took to be deep bitterness, "It would have been the best ever written." It seemed like a sore topic, so I didn't press him for details.

In contrast to his wild tournament style, he was the tightest player at the table. Perhaps this was because he was reading the book, or maybe he was just killing time waiting for somebody in the tournament that was going on, or maybe he just adopts completely different styles of play for tournament and cash games. I don't know. I saw him seriously contest only one significant pot in the hour I was there, and he won it with the nut flush on the river. He spent a lot of time away from the table. He also seemed at least as interested in his drinks as in the game. The cocktail waitress obviously knew his order by heart, because when he saw her, he would just raise a finger to get her attention, and she would point at him and say, "Another vodka-cranberry?" and he would nod.

Magriel is famous for, among other things, his weird tics and mannerisms at the poker table. On television he is constantly squirming, fidgeting, grimacing, moving his tongue from one side of his mouth to the other, etc. I wouldn't be too surprised if he has Asberger's syndrome, or one of the related disorders (see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Asperger_syndrome). On the other hand, I've heard others quote him as saying that those things are all deliberate, an act to throw off opponents. I have always been highly skeptical of that--they just look way too deeply ingrained. But I have to say that he demonstrated essentially none of that stuff during the hour I was observing him. Maybe it is an act after all. Or maybe it's involuntary, but only brought out by the nervousness and adrenaline of the television lights and/or the pressure of a big-money tournament. Or maybe it's involuntary and there most of the time, but suppressed when he's drinking. I have no clue.

He was very quiet the whole time, but perfectly polite when addressed. He even graciously agreed to let me take the picture you see above. He wasn't looking his best, so I was prepared to have him decline and I would have respected that and not tried to sneak one. But he just chuckled and said, "Sure."

All told, it was one of the least expected and oddest personalty encounters I've had during my time in Vegas. And more than a little sad, too; I can't help feeling that he has been in better situations in his life than he seems to be now.

Where are the worst dealers in town?

Barry, who works at the Hilton, is one of the finest dealers I know of anywhere. He's friendly, fast, attentive, consistent, unflappable, and makes remarkably few errors. He has worked many other places, and has strong opinions of what poker dealers do right and wrong. As a result, I've chatted with him many times about problems I've encountered at other poker rooms.

A few months ago, he asked me which casino I thought had the overall worst poker dealers. That was a hard question, because every room I've visited has good and bad. But I've kept thinking about it, and I'm finally ready to answer: It's the Sahara.

I had been leaning toward that answer for quite a while, but a session there Sunday sealed the conclusion. At my table was a guy who was pretty obviously playing live poker for the first time. He made all the classic newbie mistakes: He couldn't tell when it was his turn, and so was frequently either acting prematurely or slowing us down because he didn't know the action was on him; he got confused about posting the blinds; he didn't know about getting change when needed, or pulling his change back so it didn't look like a bet; he too frequently had to ask what the bet was, and, if he already had money out, how much more it was to him; he always needed to be reminded to push his chips within reach of the dealer (Sahara's tables are bigger than average); he made string bets and raises; he'd always forget to give back his cards when he won a pot. Maybe what galled the dealer most is that he didn't know to tip. This man wasn't drunk or stupid or deliberately trying to screw things up--he was just new to the zillion little things that quickly become old hat after a few hours of live-action play.

All of this is dime-a-dozen common. I assume that dealers encounter inexperienced players like this literally every day. But one of the Sahara dealers displayed an egregious lack of patience, an unprofessional 30 minutes unlike any I've seen before. He never actually yelled at this customer, though I was expecting that to come any minute. But every time this poor guy froze like a deer in headlights not knowing what to do, or made a mistake, this dealer talked to him in the most impatient, irritated, condescending, "do-I-have-to-explain-this-to-you-AGAIN?" tone I've ever heard used by a poker dealer speaking to an inexperienced player. (I've certainly seen equally harsh manners used when a player is just being a constant jerk, and only a saint would be able to maintain a smile. But as I said, this guy wasn't being rude at all; he just needed extra help.) It was painful and embarrassing to watch.

Predictably, this dealer's annoyance rattled the player even more. He became visibly worse, presumably because he was trying so hard to do everything right to avoid getting chided again. It was obvious that a smile and a calm, reassuring manner would have been far more effective at helping him ease into the groove. It does wonders for nervous people to keep hearing things like, "It's OK, sir, you're doing fine," or, "No problem, you'll catch on sooner than you think." But this grouchy old sailor (judging from his tattoos) couldn't bear to part with a smile or a kind word for a new player. He seemed intent instead on making the guy's first casino experience one he'd never want to repeat. It was horrible.

So why do I keep going to the Sahara when they have the worst dealers in town, inconsistent spreading of my preferred game, and one of the smokiest "smoke-free" rooms? Because it's a real money-maker. Of all the places I've played five or more times, the Sahara has both the highest percentage of winning sessions and the highest average take per session. It's just a cash cow. I tend to hit it up after having two or three losing sessions in a row other places, to get a winning streak started.

But I really detest the place. I've never--not even once--had what I would consider an enjoyable time there. The smoke is one main reason for that, and having the worst dealers in town is another.

Tap, tap, tap

I'm getting increasingly annoyed with players who absentmindedly tap their hand and/or chips on the table when they're thinking about what to do. It looks like a check, and other players behind them should be entitled to interpret it as a check. Unfortunately, most dealers are much more lenient about this that I think they should be.

A couple of weeks ago at the Sahara this happened. A very drunk guy, when it was his turn, tapped on the table with his right hand. It was a situation where I really needed a free card, so I was happy to check behind him. But after I did so, the drunk guy pushed a stack of chips in. I protested to the dealer that he had checked. The dealer said he didn't see it, so I re-enacted for him what the player had done. The dealer asked, "So he tapped with his right hand?" Yes. Well, it turns out that this particular player is a frequent flyer at the Sahara, and he always checks by tapping his left hand, palm flat, on the table (which I confirmed thereafter by watching him). So the dealer says that it wasn't a check--as if it is my responsibility to know the exact personal style of checking of every other player at the table, and thereby separate idle hand movements from actual, intentional checks. Ridiculous.

To quote from Roy Cooke's wonderful "Real Rules of Poker" (p. 68, rule 10.12): "The dealer and other players shall have the right to rely on a player's hand motions. Any tapping of the table or other hand signal that the dealer might reasonably construe to be a check shall be deemed a check." That's how it should be, of course.

Want an example of what a huge difference it can make?

Recently at the Hilton I had an offsuit AJ, with the A of spades. There was a pre-flop raise to $15 or so, which I called--along with 6 other people, so it was already a big pot even before the flop. The flop was all spades, giving me the top flush draw. A player a few seats to my right was supposed to act first. He tapped his hand on the table, and I couldn't tell if it was a "just thinking" tap or a check. Just as he reached for his whole stack and put it in the pot, the dealer said, "Was that a check?"

Now, I certainly didn't want him going all-in, because I couldn't possibly call such a large bet, in the hopes of catching another spade. I wanted a free card very badly. The player said, "No, I'm all in!" I spoke up and said, "It looked like a check to me." The dealer agreed, and made him take his bet back. Everybody else checked, too.

The turn card was another spade, and I had the best possible flush. This dummy then *still* decides to go all-in! As it turned out, he had pocket 9s, and the 9 of spades had been there on the flop, giving him a set--no wonder he had wanted to bet big, to take down the pot right then, without giving anybody a chance to draw to a flush to beat him. His tapping was just his internal debate about whether that was the thing to do. But even with four spades on the board, he couldn't let go of it. To make things better, the guy to my right made a jack-high flush with that turn card, and he went all-in! And, as you might guess, so did I. With what was already there before the flop and our 3 all-ins, the pot ended up being about $500.

That little idle motion with his hand while he was thinking cost that guy nearly $200. And I don't feel one bit guilty about calling him on it. Rules are rules, and the fact that I'm usually willing to be lenient when there's some doubt about his intentions doesn't mean I have to be every time. I'm extremely careful not to take any actions or make any motions that might confuse or mislead another player, or cause somebody behind me to act out of turn, and if others have to learn the hard way about paying attention to what they're doing, so be it. I've got bills to pay.

Now if we could just get dealers to be vigilant on this point, and enforce the rule consistently.

Fortunately, some do. A couple of weeks ago at Caesars Palace, there was a guy who was habitually doing the "I'm thinking" tap when it was his turn. Twice it caused people behind him to take their turns prematurely, and twice the dealers (different ones each time) called back those actions and let the tapper still decide whether to check or bet.

Finally there was a third such incident, unfortunately with yet another a new dealer, but fortunately with a dealer that was watching closely. He saw the tap, announced "Check," and gestured toward the next player. Mr. Tapper protested that he hadn't acted yet. The dealer explained that it looked like a check, but he would allow him this one warning. I spoke up and said that the same player had already been warned twice by previous dealers, which another player confirmed. Usually, this doesn't get anywhere (except maybe the floor called over for a decision), because obviously the dealer can't know what did or didn't happen prior to his arrival at the table. But this guy, bless him, took it seriously, and said, "In that case, we're going to have to let that stand as a check." The tapper didn't protest further. And, significantly, he didn't do it again. People are capable of learning quickly, if it costs them money. If they're allowed to slide repeatedly, they tend not to learn.

Crazy night of poker (non-grumpy content)

Nothing profound herein--just two stories from a wild night of play.

Went to the Hilton, played normally, built up my $200 investment to a little over $700, and was feeling ready to quit, when....

HE walked in.

HE is this insane dude that comes in once in a while. I've only seen him there once before, but everybody that plays with him even once remembers him, and the poker room staff know him well. I won about $300 off of him a couple of weeks ago.

Here's how he plays: He buys $100 or $200 or $300 in chips, sits down, and announces himself all in before the cards are even dealt. He's just daring people to call. He doesn't even look as his cards until the hand is over. He considers this tremendous fun, whether he wins or loses. If he wins and doubles or triples up, then he starts actually playing, although even then he goes all in at the drop of a hat. But he thinks the game doesn't really start until after he's doubled or tripled his chips through dumb luck at the beginning.

Tonight he lost 8 times in a row, never winning once. And he left laughing.

Well, I got more than my fair share of that, because on about his 5th rebuy, I was in the big blind (last to act before the flop) with pocket aces. And 3 other people called the maniac's $100 raise before the action got to me. Aces are a big favorite against any other hand, and even against any 2 other hands. But start putting them against 3 or 4 other hands, and the probability of winning drops. Against 5 hands, the aces are less than 50% to hold up. So I reraised to $400 (I was very glad I had enough chips to do that). One of the callers had only about $170 total, so he was pretty much obligated to call, but the other two callers dropped out, which meant that there was $200 in dead money in the pot. My aces held up nicely against both remaining opponents.

So I finished up with my biggest Hilton cash-out ever: $1239, a $1039 profit.

It was just after midnight. The Sahara runs a popular midnight tournament, usually getting 50-75 people. If you can time it right, getting into a no-limit cash game when people are busting out of a tournament can be very profitable, because they tend to be angry and frustrated, and they play a little crazy. So I went there. Within the first few hands, I doubled up my initial $100 against a guy who really should have known he was beat.

Went card-dead for maybe 30 or 45 minutes. Then the crazy hand occurred.

I have the two red 8s. I limp in. Guy on the button raises to $15. Six or 7 people call, because he raises way too often to always have good hands when he does. The flop had three hearts, K-10-9. First guy checks. Second guy bets $25. It's my turn.

I've got three pieces of a straight flush. I don't really expect the next two cards to both be the perfect ones to give me that, but I can make a flush with any heart, and there are some combinations that can also make me a straight. But most importantly, I've been playing very few hands while I get to know the table, so I think I can pull off a big bluff here. I assume that the first two players don't have flushes right now; the first guy could have nothing at all, since he checked, and I think it's most likely that the guy who bet has a king, maybe even 2 pair, and likely also has one heart for a flush draw as sort of a backup plan. If I go all-in here, they will have to guess that I have 2 hearts and I flopped a flush. With my tight image, it has a decent chance of working. There's already about $100 in the pot, so it's worth trying to win it.

At first it looked like it might work, as the players behind me folded. But then the guy who checked went all in, and so did the guy who bet the $25! Yikes! That wasn't supposed to happen! Even worse, my guess about their hands was completely wrong--they BOTH had 2 hearts in their hands, so they had BOTH already made their flushes. And both were higher than the flush I could make, even if another heart came! (One was the ace-high nut flush, the other a queen-high flush.) Disaster! Oh well. Sometimes these things work and sometimes they blow up in your face. But I wasn't devastated, because (1) I felt like I was already playing with free/found money; and (2) getting caught bluffing can repay any losses later when people call me when I have a really strong hand, because they tend to think I might be bluffing again.

But hold the phone--the next two cards were another king, then the 8 of clubs. I made a full house (three 8s and two kings), and beat both flushes! When I got home, I used a web-based poker odds calculator to enter the scenario: when all the money went in after the flop, I had only a 3% chance of winning.

That is one of the worst suckouts I've ever pulled off. To get the two perfect cards to make a full house to beat TWO other all-in players who weren't on draws, but already had made flushes, is just extraordinarily lucky. One of them got pretty pissed off. The other just said, "Unbelievable. Oh well--it happens." I should have lost about $130 on that hand, and instead ended up making almost $300.

This is the cruelest game ever invented. But it's nice to be on the giving side of the cruelty for a change, instead of the receiving end.

Dealers as beggars

As Joan Rivers used to say in her stand-up routines, "Can we talk?" In particular, can we talk about dealers who beg (directly or indirectly) for tips?

There's a dealer named John at Orleans that I have previously liked a lot--he's very funny, while also being better than average at keeping things moving clearly and efficiently. But he shocked me the other day. He looked extremely bored while waiting for the action to finish on one hand, and while dealing the cards on the next he was in slow motion--literally. I told him that it looked like his batteries had run down. He just said, "No, that's not it." I didn't catch what he meant. But then that hand turned into a huge pot, and the winner tipped him 2 red ($5) chips. The next deal flew out of his hands. I still didn't make the connection, but I said, "Hey, I guess you got new batteries." He replied, "Yep, two red ones." Then he added, "Basically, you guys determine how fast we'll go here."

On www.allvegaspoker.com I've read visitors commenting on the occasional dealer who is shameless in hinting for tips, but I've never seen it before. I lost all respect for this John. How completely crass and tacky and unprofessional, to deliberately slow down in order to annoy (or cajole or encourage--whatever) players into tipping better. The only book there is for poker dealers ("Professional Poker Dealer's Handbook," by Dan Paymar) says (though it shouldn't need to be said):

Always thank a player immediately for a toke. Try to make eye contact, as
this adds sincerity to the thanks. Show gratitude in your voice, but always do
it the same regardless of the size of the toke. Don't fawn over a player because
of an unusually large toke, and don't sound disgruntled because of a small toke
or none at all.... It can go without saying that dealers have a natural
resentment toward a "stiff" (non-toker). However, such a player should be
treated as well as any other. Even the non-tokers are important to your income
because without them there might not be a game for you to deal. Also, the
subject of tokes should never be discussed within earshot of any player.

Maybe my next "tip" for John should be a copy of that page of the book.

Second story: The only time I've tried playing at the Sahara was about two weeks ago, and a similar thing happened. Two guys in a pot go to the showdown. The one who called the last bet voluntarily turned over his hand first. The other guy sees that it's a winner, and mucks. The winner asks to see the mucked hand, with which request the dealer complies. The loser is out of chips and leaves the table.

The dealer tells the winner of the hand that, in the future, it might be better not to ask to see the hand, because sometimes the guy who mucks has actually thrown away the winner without knowing it, so exposing the hand risks losing the pot. Better to just take the money and be left wondering what your opponent had. (In some casinos, the house rule is that the dealer has to kill the hand before showing it, so there is no such risk, but generally what the dealer said here is correct.) The player saw the point, and thanked the dealer for the advice. The dealer said, "Well, you know, there is always a way to show appreciation for good advice from the dealer." The player said, "You're right"--and tossed him a few chips.

Completely tacky.

Final story. Last night I was playing at Suncoast. I won an enormous pot--about $900, because of a three-way all-in. There was a side pot, but the dealer ended up not having to count it out, because I was the big stack and I won it all. I passed him a $5 chip. He went surly fast, and seemed extremely grumpy for the next several hands. Maybe something else had happened that I missed, but I got the impression that he felt shortchanged on his tip for that big pot. I hope that wasn't it.

Everybody has his or her own approach to tipping dealers. Here's mine (remembering that we're talking either $1-$2 no-limit or $3-$6 limit here). I give $1 from every pot I win. The exception is that if a hand takes unusually long to play out (e.g., lots of bets and raises with several people involved, and/or side pot to count down), I'll bump it up to $2 or $3, because the dealer could otherwise have gotten out another hand or two in that amount of time. On one hand, that means that I might look cheap when there's a large pot and I toke only a buck (and some players have called me cheap in that situation). But on the other hand, I do the same even if I only pick up $3 by winning the blinds with an early-position raise, in which case I'm giving 1/3 of my profit. I figure it all averages out. I also don't distinguish between fast and slow dealers (because their tip income will naturally reflect their speed), or between those who make few mistakes and those who make many. I've wrestled with the ethics of this, and decided that I just don't want to be faced with having to weigh all those factors to come up with a "right" amount every time I win a hand, so I've basically said, "screw it all," and devolved to the fixed amount. If that makes me lazy or unethical in some other players' eyes, so be it--it's what works best for me.

I was encouraged recently that this was an acceptable approach when I read David Sklansky's book, "Poker, Gaming, and Life," in which he makes the following comment (p. 116-117):

One logical way to tip if you are a regular player is the following: Tip in
such a way that if everybody tipped similarly, the dealer would make a
reasonable amount for the day. For instance, if a dealer deals about 150 hands
per day, you might think that he or she ought to average about 75 cents per hand
dealt. If so, you might want to make this your average tip, depending on the
size of the pot. You know that tourists frequently tip more, while others tip
not at all, but that is not your concern. No dealer should complain about you if
you use this method. Furthermore, if you are trying to make a living by playing
poker but are just struggling along [that's me!], it should not be expected that
you toke off a high percentage of your income. You are still helping dealers
indirectly by keeping games going.

I agree, except that I've eliminated the part about the size of the pot. I figure that since I don't hold the dealer responsible when I lose a hand, I don't owe him or her a "reward" when I win one, either. The tip is a sign of thanks and respect for doing the job, and, in my opinion, doesn't need to relate to the size of the pot won.

But even if I'm being unforgiveably tightfisted, it doesn't excuse dealers degrading themselves by begging. It's an embarrassment. (What's more, I'm guessing that it's explicitly forbidden by every casino in town.)

Comments are welcome--particularly from dealers--about this touchy subject.