pukerarticle

Deposit $50,get $50 bonus+$35 cash

2008-09-13T06:09:00.000-07:00

Join pokerstars ,the largest poker site of the world and get $50 bonus+$35 cash

You must clear the cookies before click the banner,

Bonus Code:First2008

Must earn 100 Frequent Player Points, get the $35

Reply your pokerstars id, i will pay you $35 next month via paypal,moneybookers,webmoney.

the best casino and poker sites.

2007-03-01T09:04:00.000-08:00

1.888casino.
Win Real Money, up to $200 Bonus

2.fulltiltpoker.
100% up to $600 Extra on First Deposit

Play Online Poker

3.poker.com
100% up to $200 First Deposit

Noblepoker $1000 Depositors FR password

2007-02-23T20:27:00.000-08:00

Scheduled Tournaments---->Freerolls---->$1000 Depositors FR

March 31st, 2007 at 19:00 GMT password:smash
March 24th, 2007 at 19:00 GMT password:impact
March 10th 2007 at 19:00 GMT password:break
March 3rd, 2007 at 19:00 GMT password:crash
February 24th, 2007 at 19:00 GMT password:archer

Greetings

2007-02-05T19:55:00.001-08:00

Greetings
By Max Shapiro

I couldn't believe it when I saw an ad in a magazine from a greeting card company promoting something called "Friendship Day." Send a card to a friend, the ad urged. Tell him what a good friend he is and how happy you are to be his friend.

Good grief, Charlie Brown, why can't these card companies leave us alone? If you have a friend, and each of you knows you're friends, why in hell do you have to send a card telling him or her that you're friends? "Dear Ralph the Rattler, you low-down sneaky viper. Let me hug you, because YOU'RE MY FRIEND!"

Please, give me a break. These card hustlers are forever dreaming up new holidays or events to suck more money out of us. Grandparent's Day, Sweetest Day, Harvest Day, Brother-in-Law Day, and that perennial favorite, Eat More Zucchini Day. Pretty soon they'll have a holiday for every day of the year. And the prices they charge now! Four or five bucks for a little folded piece of cardboard that must cost them at least three cents to make.

What happened to the good old days? You know, when they had only eight baseball teams in each league, eight boxing divisions, and eight holidays: New Year's Day, President's Day, Fourth of July, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Chanukah, Halloween, and Groundhog Day. Why are people always trying to complicate our lives just to make a buck?

But then I thought: Maybe there's a way that I could cash in on this racket too by selling special-occasion greeting cards for poker players. So I put my awesome creative talent to work, and here are some of the greetings I came up with. I started with a Bad Beat Day when all those irksome whiners could put their complaints on paper and mail them out to the whole waiting world. Here's one poetry sample:

I had my aces cracked last year, A hundred forty times. The only things I won with it Were some antes and the blinds.

Pretty cool, huh? OK, now how about a Railbird Day? The railbirds could send out annual contribution envelopes with this greeting:

My kind friend, can you stake me? I'm bound for cash and fame. No matter which event I play, It's always my best game.

And how about Tourist Day to honor all those idiots who always make impossible draw-outs on pros like me? You're not allowed to berate them at the table and risk driving them away. In any case, they wouldn't even know what you're talking about because they don't even know that they're tourists. Once, after some amateur made a 5,000-1 suck-out on me, I said sarcastically to him, "You're a tourist, aren't you?"

"Oh, no," he answered brightly. "I'm a Libra."

Anyway, what you do is use some pretext to get his business card (all tourists have business cards; they actually work for a living). Then mail him this Tourist Day greeting card:

The way that you play poker, You should hide your head in the sand. There's just on question I want to ask: HOW COULD YOU PLAY THAT HAND?!

I'm telling you, I'm going to get rich off this thing. Let's see, there's something called Secretary's Day. So how about Dealer's Day to honor poker dealers? (I could get rich off this just selling these cards to John Bonetti).

You're my favorite dealer. I think of you a lot. You love to burn and turn too soon And make me lose the pot.

And if we have a Dealer's Day we should certainly have a Floorman's Day as well.

Dear floorman, sir, I wish that I Could give you more respect. So try to make one decision That's even remotely correct.

How about smokers? Those poor souls are a dying breed (literally as well as figuratively) as, one by one, their venues are being snuffed out: airplanes, theaters, elevators, even -- believe it or not -- hospital operating rooms. And now their last haunts, cardrooms, are under assault. Tobacco companies once thought up a sleazy rallying cry: "Smoker's rights." (The right to poison other people?) Well, OK, I'll sell cards to anyone, so here's one holiday that smoking poker players can embrace: Poker Smoker's Rights Day.

Players, rally 'round the flag, And fight for the right to smoke, Who cares what you do to the guys next to you, Let them, gasp, let them cough, let them choke.

I could go on like this forever, but since I don't get paid by the word, why bother? So, let me finish with one final category. I belong to a small but elite cadre of dedicated, talented, hard-working poker writers who are hired by casinos to do daily tournament write-ups. We dedicated, talented, hard-working writers drive ourselves to exhaustion staying up all night to do these daily reports and put them on the Internet. Sad to say, it is a little-known and lamentable fact that we dedicated, talented, hard-working writers do not share in the general toke pool and must depend on the kindness of winners for our livelihoods. So I would like to designate a Poker Writer's Day when we could send out cards to tournament players who cash out:

Don't forget the writers, They're a very hard-working crew. Tip them good the way you should. And they'll write nice things about you.

Hijacked in Nepal

2007-02-05T19:54:00.002-08:00

Hijacked in Nepal
By Max Shapiro

The Internet is a wondrous thing because, just like Forrest Gump's box of chocolates, you never know what you're going to get. You see, I had been hired by Oklahoma Johnny Hale to gather information to substantiate his claim that he was related to Nathan Hale, the Revolutionary War patriot. This was proving difficult because I discovered that the British in 1776 had hanged Hale (Nathan, not Johnny) who was only 21, unmarried and childless.

Undaunted, I had persevered and typed Oklahoma Johnny's name into one of the search engines, Yahoo. Along with a number of "hits" that popped up relating to his book and his Seniors tournaments, there was a curious reference to "Old Man Moose" and Casino Times. "Old Man Moose" was a story I had written about my friend Jay "Moose" Moriarty, who had won a Seniors championship tournament at Hollywood Park earlier that year. Casino Times I had never heard of.

I clicked on the link and discovered to my amazement that Casino Times was a magazine promoting casinos in, of all places ... Nepal! And, sure enough, in their April-May issue, there was my story, printed without my knowledge, permission, byline or compensation. There were all my best lines, such as Moose receiving an endorsement offer from a bran laxative manufacturer, Baxter's Bathroom Cereal, who wanted to use his name and the punchline: "Poop like a Moose."

There were other gaming articles in that issue, all without bylines, in all likelihood also stolen. I was amazed that a magazine halfway around the world would hijack stories and run them for free, and even more amazed to discover there was a magazine that paid its writers less than Card Player did. In other Casino Times issues I also found articles stolen from Nolan Dalla and Roy West, but who cares about them?

Sure, I know you all think this is another one of my put-ons. Well, not everything I write is make-believe, and if you don't believe me, you can find Casino Times by going to CasinosNepal.com, or to their parent company's website at Nepal-Travellers.com and check things out for yourself.

Nepal, I discovered after doing research, is a country a little bigger than Arkansas, squeezed between China and India. It is among the poorest and least developed in the world. Its 24.7 million largely destitute inhabitants consist of Newars, Indians, Tibetans, Gurungs, Magars, Tamangs, Bhotias, Rais, Limbus, and Sherpas, which sounds like reason enough for never going there. Nepal has eight of the 10 highest mountain peaks in the world, including Mt. Everest. It also has four casinos: Casinos Anna, Royale, Everest and Nepal.

I was intrigued by their casino/mountain-climbing package deals. For only $65,000 you get to go on a guided expedition up Mt. Everest, and when you return (providing you do return) you get two nights at one of the hotels and a free pull on a slot machine. If you hit the jackpot, you win an elephant.

I wasn't too thrilled by their card games, though. Apart from blackjack, the only ones they offer are Caribbean stud, let it ride, and kitty and pontoon, whatever the hell those things are. What good is a casino that doesn't spread Omaha high-low?

Anyhow, none of this helped me with my beef with Casino Times. I e-mailed them and asked how come they hijacked my stuff but never got an answer. So I decided to take action. I made an appointment to see Johnny Cochran, showed him my original story and their pirated version and asked if my case was actionable.

"Undisputabilitably," he said. "There ain't no glory in stealin' someone's story."

I asked him how much I might collect. He pulled out a calculator and began figuring. "Let's see ... we put in the market value of your story, triple that for aggravated damages, add in the loss of your credibility as a writer, some more for pain and suffering, and take out three percent for the dealers. That comes to ... $97.50. Less my $25,000 retainer fee, of course."

I thanked him and left. Later in the week I was at the Barstow Card Casino and told my woes to Big Denny.

"How's about you an' me goin' down dere an' teachin' dem bums a lesson?" he offered. Is Napalm far from Barstow?" "Nepal, Denny. It's on the other side of the world."

"Dat's fine wit' me, Maxey. I gotta get outta town fer a while till t'ings cool off. A coupla my customers kinda disappeared, an' da cops been nosin' around."

I had some frequent flyer miles sitting around, so I took him up on his offer. After a speedy four-day flight on Nepal Air Lines, "The airline that can't afford to crash," we arrived in Nepal's capital, Kathmandu, which sounds like the punchline to a corny joke. I had learned that the ultimate legal authority in Nepal is their monarch, King Birendra Bin Bikram Shah Dev. I petitioned for an audience, and in due course we were granted one. We were ushered into a large room where the king sat on a throne, resplendent in ermine cape and turban, with a snarling leopard crouched at his feet.

"Lookit dat mug in da bat'robe an' towel on his head wit' da pussycat," Big Denny snickered.

King Berendra unfortunately overheard him. "Kill him, Rajah," he ordered the leopard. The beast bared its fangs and crept forward. Denny drew back his fist and made a growling sound, frightening the daylights out of the leopard and causing him to jump out the nearest window.

The king threw up his hands in surrender. "Very well, then, what is it that you petition his majesty for?"

I explained what had happened and had the king read my original story and the hijacked version. "For this you expect to get paid?" he asked in wonder.

"Yeah, dat's right, ya grace," Big Denny spoke up. "My pal Maxey here is a damn funny writer. Ya got a problem wit' dat?"

King Birendra shrugged. This was one argument he knew he wouldn't win. "Very well," he sighed. I award plaintiff eight million rupees. Take it or have your heads chopped off."

We gladly took it and flew home. Only when I got back did I discover that eight million rupees was worth $97.50 ... and that I owed court costs of $25,000.

OK, Casino Times, go right ahead and steal this story!

Feng Shui in Barstow

2007-02-05T19:54:00.001-08:00

Feng Shui in Barstow
By Max Shapiro

Driving back from Vegas one day, I stopped in Barstow to visit with Big Denny. "Hi ya Maxey," he greeted me. "Kin I treat ya ta lunch at our four-star buffet? We got pig snout dis week. I got dem cheap on account of dere's an epidermis of mad pig disease goin' on around here.

After I regretfully declined, Big Denny asked me a question: "Maxey, ya ever hear of fong shooey?"

That's one of your pai gow dealers, isn't it?"

"Nah, nah, ya big dope. It ain't a person, it's like a Chinese t'ing where dey move yer furniture an' stuff aroun' an it's supposed to bring ya better luck. Ya know, ying- yang an' cosmetic energy."

"Cosmic energy, Denny. You must mean feng shui, which is supposed to bring harmony and good spirits into your home by balancing the female yin and the male yang. It's the hot thing now. Realtors and businesses and a lot of movie celebrities use it."

"Dat's right. Well, business been kinda punk lately at da Barstow Card Casino, an' I seen an ad from one of dem fong ...fang...one of dem guys and I figgered I'd give it a shot an' see what happens. I don't know how he could improve da decor, though."

I looked around at the dingy, dismal, drafty, depressing structure that had seen better days as a cow barn. "Well, for starters, you could clean the hay out of the loft, I suggested. "It keeps falling on your tables and it makes your customers sneeze."

Yeah, dat's a...hey, look, here's my guy now."

An apparition dressed in a hooded robe and swinging an incense burner walked through the doors. "Out, out, evil spirits!" he chanted.

I'm not sure if any evil spirits left, but six frightened customers bolted out the door. The feng shui man walked up to us and Big Denny made the introduction.

"Maxey, dis here's Wing Wang. He's gonna fix dis place up fer better luck, aincha?"

"Yes, yes, we fix," Wing Wang said doubtfully, suddenly realizing the enormity of his task. He stared at the stark, box-like confines of the converted barn. "Too many straight lines," he declared. "Lets energy escape." He made an undulating motion with his hand. "Need more curves, like the breezes or ocean waves."

"Curves, huh?" Big Denny said sourly. "How's about we put in a mary-go-round?"

Wing Wang stared at him, unsure if he was being serious or sarcastic. Finally, he shrugged and wrote something in a notebook. "Much to do," he said. Come, we walk through and see."

We had only walked a short distance before Wing Wang stopped and pointed to a big mirror hanging behind one of the poker tables. "Bad! Bad!" he exclaimed. Mirror reflects good energy back out door. Must go."

"Da hell it goes," Big Denny told him. "When I'm playin' at dis table, dat mirror lets me see all the suckers' hands on dat side."

Wing Wang decided not to argue and made a mark his book. We turned a corner, and the feng shui man stopped dead in his tracks and pointed to an enormous oil painting of a nude woman reclining on a bearskin rug. "What that?" he gasped.

Big Denny grinned. "Dat's Aunt Sophie. Ain't she somet'in? Da customers likes ta use her fer a dart board. Ya gets 10 points if ya hits her in da..."

"DENNY!" I cried out in alarm.

"Very, very bad," Wing Wang decided. "Bad karma. You need something more calming, perhaps like grazing cattle."

"No way!" Big Denny declared. "Dem farmers milks cows all day an' dey comes in here ta fergit about dem. Aunt Sophie stays."

Wing Wang sighed and made another mark in his book. We walked some more, and as we passed an open door, he suddenly smiled. "Ah, I hear running water. Good karma. Do you have a fountain nearby, or a waterfall, or maybe even a stream running through here?"

"Nah, "Big Denny laughed. "Dat's just a broken toilet in da men's room. I keeps fergettin' ta fix it."

Wing Wang winced and made another notation in his book. As we walked further, something caught his attention. He peered closely at three small, neat holes in the wall where light was coming in from the outside. "Ah, you see," he beamed, "cosmic energy so strong that it can even pierce walls."

Denny looked at the three spots. "Dem's bullet holes, ya dummy."

Wing Wang silently screamed and began tearing up his notebook. I was getting uncomfortable, so I excused myself and headed back to L.A., leaving them to finish their business. Later in the week I phoned Denny to see how things had gone.

"I t'rew da bum out," Denny exploded. "He tol' me I had ta have more colors a' da rainbow in da place."

"So, what's wrong with that?"

"He wanted me to bring in Mike Caro's four-color deck."

Celebrities Who Have Known Me

2007-02-05T19:53:00.002-08:00

Celebrities Who Have Known Me
By Max Shapiro

From time to time a poker columnist will reminisce about poker superstars he has played with. I never played with a superstar because none ever had the guts to take me on. But in the network of home games I used to frequent in the Los Angeles area, I did play poker with any number of actors and celebrities ... and two murderers.

Those days came to mind again when I read about the death of Werner Klemperer. Klemperer is best remembered for his role as Colonel Klink, the German commandant of a World War II prison camp on TV's Hogan's Heroes. He would sometimes drop by the home of his ex-wife, Susan, to play in our game. Interestingly, it was poker that had led to the break-up of their marriage. They had been hosting a regular game in their home which one night lasted longer than usual. He wanted to stop, she didn't, so he got up in a huff and soon after filed for divorce.

Fortunately, she retained custody of the cards, chips, and poker table, and the game continued at her new home. This was good because Susan had lots of alimony and played awful. Then things got bad when she wanted to marry a tennis instructor with little money. We tried to talk her out of it because she'd lose her alimony. (We had her best interests at heart, of course.) She wouldn't listen to reason and entered a short-lived marriage. The games went on, but without her alimony the stakes had to be lowered, and we never forgave her.

Then things got good again when she married a fellow named Ivan who owned a sausage casing factory. He joined the game and played even worse than she did. Then things got bad again when she got deeply involved in community service and founded a facility in Santa Monica for homeless people. It earned her awards and honors, but not from us, because she began losing interest in other things, especially poker. Eventually she divorced Ivan and evicted us. Gary the barber inherited the poker table, and the games continued for a while at his place, but they were never the same.

Another performer I played with was the late Paul Stewart, a character actor whose most memorable role was as the majordomo in Citizen Kane. We played in a weekly game at the home of his agent. One night the phone rang. Stewart picked it up and playfully answered as if he were the butler. The caller, not amused, said something impolite. Stewart lost his temper, shouted a string of obscenities into the phone, and slammed it down with shattering force.

"Who was that?" the agent inquired.

"Lew Wasserman," a player replied, referring to the then-head of Universal Studios and the most powerful man in Hollywood. What a great line! Wish I'd said it.

I also played at the home of the late Alan Reed, who had many character actor roles in films (such as the detective the Lana Turner/John Garfield film, The Postman Always Rings Twice), and later was the TV cartoon voice of Fred Flintstone. It was a good game, but we never knew when it would suddenly end. Alan was a nice guy but didn't like losing (which was almost always), and after he had dropped more than he could stand, he would abruptly kick us out of his house.

I never met John Travolta, but I once caused him and his studio some grief. A friend of mine owned a fan mailservice. Studios forwarded fan letters to him and he would mail out pre-written replies. (I could use him now to answer my own fan mail. The postcards would say: "Thanks for your nasty letter. If you don't like my column, try writing one of your own, you idiot!")

Anyway, we played poker after hours at his offices, and one night he let us have the game there there even though he couldn't make it. While playing, I picked up a Travolta postcard which read, "Keep on dancing," referring to his film, Saturday Night Fever. Jokingly, I wrote in a vulgar P.S., got a few laughs from the players, and then forgetfully left the card behind. It ended up being mailed out to some little girl in the Midwest. Her mom raised hell and the studio almost canceled my friend's contract. He convinced them that some postal employee must have done it, but that ended those poker games.

The murderers? They were two brothers named Neil and Stewart Woodman who owned a plastics plant in the San Fernando Valley. They were addicted gamblers who had a custom poker table installed in their plant. I played there a few times, but it wasn't pleasant. When they weren't on the phone screaming at their salesmen, they were complaining about their father whom they felt was interfering in the business they had wrested from him in a court battle.

Not long after I quit the game, a sensational murder story broke. Their mother and father, returning from Yom Kippur services, were both gunned down. The case was first called the "Ninja murders" (witnesses thought the gunmen were dressed like Ninjas) and later the "Yom Kippur murders." I immediately suspected the boys had done it, and wasn't surprised when detectives unraveled their scheme.

With their business in financial trouble, they had paid $50,000 to Las Vegas mobsters to kill their parents and collect on their mother's $500,000 insurance policy. In court they turned on each other and were convicted. A book, Family Blood, was written about the case, which later was turned into a TV movie starring Eliot Gould. The wonderful Woodman boys are still rotting in prison. They should have taken my advice and begged the court for mercy
because they were orphans. (Yes, I know I've used that line before with the Menendez brothers, but it's still funny.)

Want Me to Plug You?

2007-02-05T19:53:00.001-08:00

Want Me to Plug You?
By Max Shapiro

A while back I read a story about the spread of product placement advertisement in TV shows. Product placement is the practice of slipping visuals of branded goods such as foods, beer, autos, etc., into programs and charging the makers a fee, much as if they were running regular paid ads. This has been going on for a long time in films.

For example, there's a scene in my favorite movie, Superman, where a young Clark Kent is eating breakfast in his family's farmhouse with a box of Cheerios clearly visible on the kitchen table. Ever since I watched that scene, I've eaten Cheerios for breakfast every day of my life. I still can't fly, but I haven't given up hope yet.

There are several reasons why sneaked-in ads are now cropping up on television: partly it's because audiences are turned off by all the commercials cluttering the airwaves; partly because new electronic technology will let viewers zip right past them; but mostly it's due to simple greed. Not only will more and more branded items appear in new programs, they will also pop up in rerun programs as TV producers take classic old shows and digitally insert commercial products.

So don't be surprised if you see Jack Webb with a Nokia cell phone in a 1954 Dragnet episode, or Lucille Ball, in an I Love Lucy show filmed nearly 50 years ago, checking her AOL e-mail on a Toshiba laptop.

Reading about this insidious practice really upset me. As an ethical journalist, I oppose any compromise of media integrity. For example, I used to stew every time I saw ads for crappola movies that invariably featured gushing quotes from a certain critic for a minor radio station. When I read that he sometimes wrote rave reviews without even bothering to see the films and was rewarded with lavish junkets for his favorable reviews, I sent him increasingly annoying e-mails. Not long after, I heard about his death and wondered if my harassment contributed to his demise. Oh, well.

Anyway, as I said, because of my journalistic morals I was repelled by the inherent dishonesty of blatant product placement on television. That is, until I began to wonder if I couldn't pick up a little extra dough myself for plugging things in my column.

I realize this sounds tacky, but please consider my circumstances. The magazine remuneration I receive for my Pulitizer Prize-level writing does not exactly place me in the top tax bracket. Let's be honest, it doesn't even get me into the the poverty-level bracket. While it's true that I make a handsome living from my poker playing, I also have heavy expenses, mainly for my charitable contributions to railbirds.

So I cast around for products and places that could benefit from a mention in my column. Deciding that the Barstow Card Casino was the place most in needed of good publicity, I sounded out Big Denny. What could he offer, I asked, in return for a nice mention?

"I kin give ya a comp ta our four-star buffet," he replied. "I got a good deal on some cows dat died from somet'in dey ain't figgered out what it wuz yet, but it probably ain't nuthin' catchin'."

I thanked Big Denny profusely and promised to consider his offer. Next I contacted my good friend Lou Krieger. What could I expect to get, I asked, if I wrote that reading his books made me the player I am today? His answer was terse: "A letter from my attorney."

Wise guy. I never saw him listed in the Overall Player Rankings in the back of poker magazines like I once was. Perhaps a touch of humor would do the trick, I thought. So I made up a poker joke (OK, I stole it from Reader's Digest and changed it a little, what's the difference)? It went like this:

The first time I met my sweetie, she asked me to drive her from Commerce to the Bicycle Casino. As we drove, I placed my hand on her knee. "You can go farther if you like," she said coyly. So I drove her to Hollywood Park.
I tried peddling the joke to the three casinos by asking Nancy Friedman at Commerce, Kelley O'Hara at the Bike and Phyllis Caro at Hollywood Park what they would do if I promoted them that way. All of them said they would pull their magazine advertising.
Even Oklahoma Johnny Hale, who would do anything to promote his book, up to and including dropping his pants and hanging upside down from the Stratosphere tower, wasn't interested.

In fact, the only nibbles I got were from Ralph the Rattler, looking for a plug for his home poker game for kiddies, and from a sleazy character peddling a book on how to mark cards. I indignantly turned them both down when they wouldn't pay me up front.

Ah, well, perhaps it was for the best that my scheme misfired. After all, the last thing in the world I would want to do would be to divert ad dollars from poker magazines into my pocket.

The Pig and the Wolf Play Poker

2007-02-05T19:52:00.004-08:00

The Pig and the Wolf Play Poker
By Max Shapiro

"Tell me a story," my seven-year-old future grandson, Brandon, begged me one day.

"How about Snow White Discovers Omaha?" I suggested.

"No, no, that's a dumb story. Tell me about the Three Little Pigs."

Trying to remember how the story went, I began uncertainly: Once upon a time there were Three Little Pigs who lived on a farm near Barstow.

"What were their names?" Brandon demanded.

"How the hell should I know? I think one was called Porky Pig, another was Miss Piggy, and ..."

"No, no, no!" Brandon yelled, stamping his little foot. You don't know anything, grampa Maxwell."

"Look, kid," I replied hotly. "It's my story and I'll call them anything I want. I'm calling them Hickory, Dickory, and Doc, OK? You got a problem with that?"

Brandon stuck out his lower lip in a pout but didn't say anything, so I continued: Anyway, these pigs were pretty happy as pigs go because they had nothing to do all day but roll around in the mud and eat slop. Then, one day, Hickory walked up with a puzzled look on his face. "Farmer Brown was pinching my butt today and smiling a lot," he said.

"Maybe he likes you," suggested Dickory.

"No, you fools," said Doc. "He's getting ready to sell us to the meat market. We must escape and build new homes where he cannot find us."

"I will build my home of straw," said Hickory.

"I will build mine of sticks," said Dickory.

"That's not good enough," warned Doc. "The Big Bad Wolf will come along and huff and puff until he blows your houses down. You must use something stronger."

"I know," said Brandon, "the third pig built his house of brick."

"No smarty-pants," I told him. "Aluminum siding. An aluminum siding traveling salesman named Break-Even Benny came by the farm the night before and promised that the stuff wouldn't chip, flake, or peel for 20 years."

"Did the traveling salesman sleep with the farmer's daughter?" Brandon asked.

"No, honey, that's a different story. Has grandma Barbara been telling you dirty jokes again?"

I continued: Anyway, the pigs needed money for their new houses, so Doc said he'd try to win a poker tournament at Big Denny's Barstow Card Casino that night. "Do you know how to play poker?" the other pigs asked. "Of course," he assured them. "I read Dirty Wally's book: How I Won 175 Tournaments that Nobody Ever Heard of."

So off Doc trotted down the road to the Barstow Card Casino. Big Denny himself greeted him at the door: "Well, lookee here, we got us a porker wants ta play poker. Come on in an' help yerself at da buffet, ya little swine, but try not ta make a pig of yerself, har, har, har."

Doc sampled the buffet, but it was even worse than the swill that Farmer Brown fed him, so he went into the tournament room and discovered the buy-in was $50. "Anyone want to stake me?" he grunted to the players.

"Super Mario" Esquerra, who had also passed on the food, looked down and said, "I tell you what I do, pig. You let me cut a slice off your ass for a ham sandwich, and I give you ten dollars." Doc winced, but agreed. Then John Bonetti, complaining that he wouldn't feed Big Denny's buffet to "my woist enemy," bought a slice. Big Denny himself bought three more, and Doc had his $50. And that's how the expression, "selling pieces of yourself," first originated.

Just before the tournament began, a player walked up to Doc and introduced himself. It was the Big Bad Wolf! "I've been wanting to eat you -- I mean meet you --" said the wolf. Hope to see you at the final table ... the dining room table, that is."

Doc was shaken, but played his little heart out, and after several hours he indeed found himself at the final table, heads-up with the wolf.

I didn't want to confuse Brandon, so I explained that they were playing poker, a game played with 52 cards that had numbers and pictures on them.

"What was the game, the limits and the relative chip positions?" the kid wanted to know. I had forgotten I was talking to Barbara Enright's grandson.

The game was no-limit hold'em and the pig and wolf were dead even. Doc asked if the Big Bad Wolf was interested in a chop, but the wolf said the only chop he wanted from him was a pork chop. Then a big pot developed. The board showed A- A-J-Q-K and three diamonds.

Brandon clapped his forehead in dismay. "Just like all those dumb poker movies. Don't tell me ... the wolf had four aces and the pig ..."

"Will you pipe down and let me finish?!" I screamed. I took several deep breaths to calm down and continued:

"I have a big hoof -- I mean a big hand --" said Doc. I'm moving all in."

The wolf asked Doc if he was willing to play winner take all, and the pig agreed. "In that case, said the Big Bad Wolf," I call.

"I win! I win!" Doc squealed. "I have a full house!" "Oh, you have a house, do you?" leered the Big Bad Wolf.

"Well, in that case, I'll just huff and puff and blow your house down, because I have a royal flush!"

The poor little pig trembled in fear. "Oh, please, Mr. Wolf," he begged, please, please don't eat me."

The wolf grinned from ear to ear. "Aah, I was just kidding. My full name is Irving Wolf. Jews aren't allowed to eat pork."

"Well, Brandon, I said, proud of my story, how did you like it?"

Brandon thought for a minute. "I guess Snow White and Omaha wasn't so bad after all."

The Poker Bot

2007-02-05T19:52:00.003-08:00

The Poker Bot
By Max Shapiro

"Hey, Max," Action Al greeted me one day, "I want to talk to you about something."

I held my hand up like a cop stopping traffic. "Look, Al," I said sternly. "I can't use you in any of my columns right now, and I really don't want to hear any more of your cockamamie story ideas."

It didn't faze him, but that wasn't unusual because nothing ever fazes Action Al. "It's not about stories," he assured me. "I wanted to ask if you ever play poker online."

I nodded warily. "Once in a while."

"How do you do in those games?"

"Almost as well as I do in casino live games."

"That bad, huh? Well, how'd you like to win every time, guaranteed?" I looked at him with a mixture of hope and suspicion, and he continued. "I got ahold of some experimental software that lets you play perfect online. Just pick out a game for it and it does everything automatically. It plays perfect strategy, never makes a mistake, never goes on tilt. The guy who invented it wants to test it out before he markets it. So you've got a chance to make a bundle before everybody else knows about it."

"Hmm," I hmmed. "Sort of like a poker robot, huh? I've heard rumors about those things."

"That's right," said Al. "The techies call them 'bots.' Lemme know how it works out."

He handed me a box with a CD and instructions. Somewhere in the back of my brain was the vague, unsettling suspicion that this 'bot' might really be a Frankenstein monster. But I shrugged off my doubts as visions of untold riches filled my greedy little mind.

I took the software home, installed it on my computer, and logged onto one of the online gaming sites, Piker Poker. I selected a $3-$6 Omaha game and signed in under the clever name of Robbie the Robot. "Go get 'em, kid, it's all yours," I said, turning the game over to my little 'bot.'

I quickly knew I had a winner, because Robbie judiciously kept folding marginal hands that I would have eagerly played, such A-3-6-7 or 8-9-J-K. Finally, after two rounds went by, we picked up a hand which he had been programmed to accept, a tremendous A-A-2-4 double suited in spades and clubs. A raising war ensued among six callers, which Robbie triumphantly capped. An A-3-K with two clubs and a spade flopped, giving Robbie top set, plus draws to both a wheel and a flush. Another capped pot. The turn brought a nine of spades, adding a second nut flush draw, along with lots more action. But a jack of hearts on the river gave some idiot who went in with 6-8-10-Q a winning inside straight.

"Nice hand, sir," Robbie typed in. I wasn't sure if he was being polite or echoing Men "The Master's" signature sarcastic rebuke.

Robbie once more patiently waited for premium starting hands, and played three more times. The first time he again got counterfeited, the second time his low never got there, and the third time his nut flush was beaten by a full house on the river. He typed in another message, a trifle less civilized this time.

"LUCKY BASTARDS!"

A couple of hands later he called in early position with A-4-6-8 rainbow. Were his standards starting to slip already, or was his sophisticated software plotting strategy beyond my comprehension? My suspicions rose after he got double counterfeited when a four and a six flopped, and he futilely kept chasing who knows what when the turn showed two queens and three diamonds. This time he typed in a definitely Frankensteinian outcry: "Graughhh!" All that was missing was the massive arm flailing the air.

By now he -- meaning ME -- was stuck an annoying but manageable $125. I took a short bathroom break, and when I got back to the computer I found he had typed, "Game too small, master, must get even." On his own, he had switched to a $10-$20 game, and had quickly dropped another $375. Not only that, but the bot, having reached my credit limit, had withdrawn another $500 on my credit card!

"Stop! Stop! Game's over. You're recalled. Delete, delete!" I began shouting in panic, to no avail. Wildly, my sophisticated software bot was now playing every hand and insanely typing in, "Kill! Kill!"

The only thing that was being killed was me. I tried shutting the program down, but found, just as had happened when I installed that ZX2000 software to write my columns, that it had taken over the computer and I was unable to stop it.

As I watched helplessly, it kept jumping to higher and higher limits and draining more and more funds from my charge card. It was recklessly playing $200-$400 when, mercifully, my credit limit was reached and Piker Poker threw Robbie offline.

"Well, what do you have to say for yourself, Robbie?" I typed in angrily.

"Can you stake me for another $100, master?" he answered. "This is my best game."

I saw Action Al the next day and politely inquired what might have gone wrong. He had trouble answering with my hands throttling his neck, but he finally blurted out, "Don't blame me, Maxey, I just found out some of those online casinos use robots too."

"You mean ...?"

"Yeah, their bots can beat your bot."

Bingo, Anyone?

2007-02-05T19:52:00.001-08:00

Bingo, Anyone?
By Max Shapiro

"Maxwell, let's go play bingo," my sweetie said to me one evening.

"I don't know how to play bingo," I replied sullenly.

"You don't know how to play poker either, but that's never stopped you."

"Not on your life!" I said defiantly. "You couldn't catch me dead in one of those places."

"Oh, come on, you old sourpuss," she cajoled. "You'll have a lot of fun. Besides, you'll probably lose a lot less money than you do playing Omaha."

My sweetie sure has a way with words. She missed a great career with the diplomatic corps. So, off we went to one of those gigantic bingo halls. Inside was a sea of blue-haired matrons and a handful of husbands looking sheepish and hiding their faces. Instead of senior citizen discounts, a sign announced discounts for anyone under 55. This was understandable because, to borrow a line from Milton Berle, the average age of the bingo players was deceased.

I walked up to the counter and asked for the cheapest ticket they had. Giving me a look of disgust, an attendant took my $4 and handed me several sheets of paper, each containing six printed bingo cards. Six cards at a time! How in the world could I ever keep up? In bewilderment, I sat down beside my sweetie and noticed that she had eight six-card sheets spread out before her.

"Only one sheet at a time?" she asked sweetly. "Were you planning to take a nap between numbers?"

Ah, well, I thought, what's the big deal? I vaguely recalled my mother playing the game back in the '40s. Someone called out numbers and if you filled in a whole line, you yelled "Bingo" and got a set of dishes or something.

But then I discovered that things have gotten a bit more complicated since then. The first game was regular bingo, but then came stuff like crazy L, crazy kite, triangle, crazy T, double bingo, block of nine, G-ball coverall, Greek bonanzas, and other terms, all of which were Greek to me.

Barbara tried explaining them. "Crazy L" was an "L" formed at any angle. "Crazy T" was sort of the same thing. But I started getting lost at "crazy kite." My sweetie saw the look of distress on my face.

"Oh, forget it, dummy. I'll watch out for you." She glanced at the table. "Where's your dauber?" she cried.

"My what?"

"Your dauber. A marker -- to mark your sheets."

"Why can't I use a pencil?"

"Everyone uses a dauber, you idiot. Now go up and buy one and don't embarrass me."

Buy one? I had to pay another dollar for a little bottle of ink with a felt tip. I sat down again and Barbara patiently explained how you put a blank piece of paper under each bingo sheet so that the ink doesn't bleed through to the bingo cards underneath. Well, I guessed I was as ready as I'd ever be. The games got under way and the first number was called: N41. N41? I had it!

I jumped to my feet. "Bingo!" I yelled out excitedly.

Heads swiveled; people booed and shot dirty looks at me. Barbara tried to duck under the table. "You need a whole line, not just one number, you moron. Now, try to pay attention!"

"OK, OK, I was just kidding when I yelled 'bingo,'" I lied.

The next number I heard called was G6. "G6?" I said in confusion. "I can't find any G6."

"That's B6!" Barbara yelled. "B as in bonehead! I told you to get the wax cleaned out of your ears, Maxwell."

More numbers were called. Barbara's hand flew like lightning over her eight sheets, while I struggled with my single set. She looked at my paper. "Do you have something against N41 and O75? Why haven't you filled them in?"

"I was getting to them," I explained. "Right now I'm looking for B49."

"That's G49!" she screamed. "G as in goat head! And why haven't you filled in your bonus numbers? Watching you play bingo is more painful than watching you play poker."

A lady to our left, who had been watching me with growing concern, leaned over. "Yes, but it was so nice of you to take your father away from the rest home for the evening," she said, patting Barbara's hand sympathetically.

Just then someone yelled "Bingo." Barbara sighed deeply. "Thank God this one's over."

The next game was crazy L. Barbara noticed me marking off numbers on the inside of the squares. "Ignore them," she hissed. "They can't be used for the design."

"I'll mark any numbers I feel like," I replied belligerently.

"Oh, dear," said the lady on our left. "Perhaps you should take your father back to the home."

The game ended and new ones began. Despite the fact that they called out each number twice, showed it on a television monitor, and flashed it in lights, I was falling farther and farther behind. For a while, Barbara stamped numbers I had missed, and stopped me when I kept working on games that already had ended. But after a while, she gave up and tried to ignore me.

I was getting hopelessly lost. "Hey!" I yelled out to the announcer. "Can't you slow it down a little?" There were more angry shouts of "Quiet!" and a nice old lady in a wheelchair threw a box of popcorn at me. Another game began. The first number was called and I jumped to my feet again, yelling "Bingo! Bingo!" Barbara squeezed her eyes shut and tried to make herself invisible. "Why are you doing this to me?" she trembled.

"Have you completely lost your mind?"

"No, look," I insisted. "All the numbers on my sheet are filled in."

Barbara looked. "You fool! You didn't put that blank sheet underneath like I told you, and all the ink bled through!"

A chorus of hisses, boos, and curses filled the hall, louder and more ominous than ever. Ashtrays were thrown. Somebody shouted, "Let's get him!" and a tidal wave of old ladies swinging purses, canes, and daubers surged toward me.

"Barbara," I screeched, "help me!"

Barbara pointed at me. "There he is, girls. Go get him."

Moments before I was trampled to death beneath hundreds of support-hosed feet, several security guards rushed in and dragged me to safety.

The upshot was that I was the first person in history ever to be barred from bingo -- just when I was beginning to enjoy myself, too. Oh, well, maybe I can get Barbara to teach me keno.

The Talented Mr. Henderson

2007-02-05T19:11:00.000-08:00

The Talented Mr. HendersonThe Talented Mr. Henderson
By Max Shapiro

First there's that friendly hand on your shoulder. Then there's that familiar voice accented by that soft Texas drawl: "Hi ya, pal? How ya doin'? Makin' any money?" Then he'll wave at some friends of his at the table. "Look at all the donkeys sittin' around here. Sure wish I could play, but (and here he pulls out a thin roll of bills) my bankroll looks like an elephant stepped on it."

Congratulations. You've just been selected as a potential backer and financial partner by the legendary master of the art form. Any number of people might claim to be the world's greatest poker player, but only one man can claim the title of world's greatest poker hustler: Mr. Frank Henderson.

"Promoter," Henderson corrects. "I'm a promoter."

OK, promoter. But either way, this likeable, smooth- talking veteran player from Houston could talk Ebenezer Scrooge out of his case money. When you hand over cash to Henderson you're left with a warm feeling, like dropping a bill into a Salvation Army collection pot.

Make no mistake, though, taking a piece of Henderson's action is not charity. With your common railbird it might be a donation, but with Frank it's an investment...and a good one at that. The man can play, and he's won more than his share of tournament money. In 1987 he came in second in the World Series championship after Johnny Chan beat him with a river card on the final hand. He and Eric Drache each put up $1,500 for three $1,000 satellites, and they ended up chopping a quarter-mill.

In 1989 he went broke on the first hand playing in the WSOP pot-limit Omaha rebuy event. Chip Reese then put up half the $2,500 rebuy and collected $92,000 when Henderson won it. In all, Frank has won close to a million dollars at World Series tournaments, and has been as high as 15th on the WSOP money-leading list. "I've won a major tournament in every game spread, except Chinese poker," he notes.

Well, if he's so good, why doesn't he play with his own cash? "I prefer to, when I can," he explains. "But you know," he shrugs, "sports betting, dice, bad investments-- sometimes I just don't have the bankroll." And, he adds, while he's a good player, and a winning player, he's not a lucky player like John Bonetti or Men Nguyen or Brent Carter. "If it were the last hand of the World Series and I was all in with ace-king against Bonetti's ace-deuce, I'd stand up and say goodbye." (Gene "The Machine" Collins and David "Rabbi" are other top players who also have a hard time getting lucky when they need to, he adds sympathetically.)

When he needs a little help to get back in action, Henderson has a whole bag of tricks to dip into. He might approach a prospect brandishing a sheet of player listing names like Bonetti and Phil Hellmuth who have put in for 15 percent each. The fact that this would be news to Bonetti and Hellmuth doesn't bother him. "They would if I asked them," he explains logically. "Anyway, after I get more names I erase theirs."

Or, if he's meeting resistance from a customer, he might wave to some imaginary player. "Hold on a minute," he'll cry out. "I already promised Bob here first crack."

In tribute to his acting ability, Frank early on was nicknamed "Hollywood Henderson" by his admirers. But he prefers the name that Jack McClelland later bestowed on him: "Fearless Frank."

Henderson plays the promotion game by strict rules. "For example, I'll never hit up a stranger for backing," he says, then adds, "Of course, if I'm sitting at an empty table and a stranger walks up and asks me a question about the tournament, I might say, 'If you want me to, I'll play for you.'"

Henderson makes it clear that being backed is not a one- way street: he's helped plenty of other players. Poker, after all, is not exactly a Civil Service occupation, and even world champions have been known to go broke. It does peeve him, though, when he's in the midst of a sales pitch and someone rudely walks up and tries to hustle him. "You work your side of the street and I'll walk mine," he's likely to say. "People think I'm a millionaire, and it seems the broker I get, the more I get hit on," he sighs.

Besides helping players financially when he can, Henderson also likes to assist them with his special hustling--excuse me, promoting--skills. For example, if he spots a friend meeting resistance from a potential backer, he might stroll by and say, for the benefit of the money man, "In case things don't work out, check with me."

And it irks his promoter's sensibilities when he hears a satellite coordinator call out, "Three more seats left for the no-limit satellite." He'll walk over and give a lesson to the offender: "Don't say, 'Three more seats left.' Say, 'One seat left.' Then, when a player comes in, say, 'We just had a cancellation. One seat still open.'"

A typical deal for Henderson might be to have two backers put up $530 each for a $1,060 tournament, with each getting a third of any cash-out. But it gets frustrating for a man of his talent to have to spend so much time pitching one customer at a time. He's been thinking of taking a quarter- page ad in Card Player, offering to sell pieces of himself. Spread the wealth around, is how he sees it.

What about going a step further and setting up a service listing players available for purchase, he is asked. Henderson's eyes light up. "Yeah, I could do it by phone, or perhaps the Internet. Maybe charge a five percent fee." Numbers are dancing in his head. "Of course there are some details to work out, but I think it can be done."

Well, there you have it. If anyone can make the selling of pieces a wholesale business, it would be Frank Henderson. In the meantime, if you'd like to have a little something riding on a tournament and don't want to wait for the Internet poker auction site, see Frank. He might be able to help you out.

Mark My Words

2007-02-05T19:10:00.004-08:00

Mark My Words
By Max Shapiro

I got excited recently when I read an article describing how collectors are willing to pay really big bucks for original manuscripts from famous writers like me. Such documents, the article pointed out, were especially valuable when they bore evidence of changes made during the creative process.

For example, a huge price was paid for the first draft of A Tale of Two Cities because instead of, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," the novel had originally started out with, "The times were both good and bad, take your pick." An early manuscript for Gone with the Wind fetched even more money because Rhett Butler's final words the first time around had been, "Frankly, my dear, I don't give a crap."

And just imagine what a first folio of Hamlet would be worth if one turned up with its original title: Irving.

Of course, you have to make certain that such manuscripts are truly authentic. Big Denny once showed me what he believed to be the original copy of The Gettysburg Address, purportedly dashed off by Abraham Lincoln on the back of an envelope as he rode on a train to speak at the battlefield dedication. I asked him where he got the document.

"A guy traded it ta me fer a buy-in inta a $15-$30 stud game. T'ink I got a good deal, Maxey?"

"I don't know," I said. "It looks like Lincoln misspelled 'Gettysburg.'"

"Well, maybe he wuz a lousy speller."

I turned it over and showed him that it was written on an envelope from his own Barstow Card Casino.

Big Denny's jaw tightened. "T'anks, Maxey," was all he said, but I could visualize a hole being dug in the desert by the side of the road.

Anyway, I was eagerly calculating how much my original work-in-progress manuscripts might be worth until I realized that, thanks to my computer, I don't have many. When you write with a computer, all the words you change are gone forever and you end up with a final version neatly stored on disk or hard drive. Very efficient, but of no historic value.

But then, by digging through my early files, I turned up a treasure trove of typewritten first drafts laced with alterations and corrections scribbled in pencil. I had forgotten about many of the changes, and was fascinated to read them anew.

For instance, did you know that my original name for Ralph the Rattler was "Ralph the Rabbit?" The first time I met him he impressed me as a decent sort of fellow, a bit shy and on the quiet side, so I gave him a nice, gentle nickname. Then he invited me to one of his home games, and after realizing that he had more moves, twists, and turns than a snake, I hastily re-christened him more appropriately.

And, believe it or not, Big Denny's Card Casino originally was to be located in Pahrump, Nevada. "Pahrump" has always delighted me because that is exactly the sound I imagine an elephant would make in the process of expelling gas. On reflection, however, I decided that such a crude reference was in bad taste, so I moved the casino to the remote town of Bar Stool-pardon me, Barstow--a relocation for which Big Denny has never forgiven me.

Anyway, I found lots of such historic footnotes in my early Read 'em and Laugh masterpieces and realized that they would be worth even more than the small fortune that I originally got paid for them. First, of course, I needed legal clearance from my book publisher to make sure that neither would lay copyright claim to this valuable trove. I knew I was home free when I was greeted with hearty laughter.

I gathered up a representative collection of my best columns, booked a flight to New York, and brought them to Sotheby's, the renowned auction house. After stating my purpose, I was ushered into the handsomely paneled and august offices of the director, Charles Higgenbottom. Impeccably tailored and groomed, he twisted his guardsman's mustache and stared at me quizzically through his monocle.

I dropped my papers on his desk and began my spiel. "How ya doin' today, Chuck?" I started in my slickest salesman's mode. "The name's Shapiro, Max Shapiro. Guess you've heard of me. I've got a real find for you -- original first draft manuscripts of my Read 'em and Laugh columns. Christie's is begging for them, but I decided to let you have first crack. There'll all genuine, but if you need more, I can dummy up some additional columns."

Higgenbottom seemed alarmed at my rush of words, as if fearing I would attack him, but he quickly regained his composure and skimmed a couple of my columns. "Dreadful sorry, old chap," he finally harrumphed, "but there doesn't seem to be much market demand at the moment for essays."

"Essays? Those are side-splittingly funny humor columns!"

"We are not amused," he murmured. "But thank you for visiting us. We will most certainly keep you in mind, Mr. Schwartz."

I made the round of the auction houses, with pretty much the same results. The TV Home Shopping Network wasn't much interested either. Finally, I decided to try my luck on eBay, the Internet auction site. I tested the waters by initially pricing the manuscripts at a tempting $5,000 each. I guess there aren't too many literary connoisseurs out there, because I got no nibbles. I kept lowering the price, with no better luck. Finally, I offered to accept the best bid.

I got one response. Someone said they'd buy the entire lot for $24.95 -- provided I throw in a copy of Lou Krieger's new book, Poker for Dummies.

I have decided to keep the manuscripts and will leave them to a prestigious library after my death. After all, they belong to posterity, not just to some greedy collector.

Big Denny's Life in Pitchers

2007-02-05T19:10:00.003-08:00

Big Denny's Life in Pitchers
By Max Shapiro

"Hey, Maxey," Big Denny bellowed at me one day, "how do I get inta one a dem colleges?"

"College? Well, the first thing you need to do is to graduate from grade school."

"Nah, I ain't talkin' about no school. I mean dem big framed t'ings dat guy from Vegas makes up wit' yer life in pitchers."

"Oh," I said, finally grasping his meaning. "You mean collages. Tom Sexton, Mike's brother, does them. You give him pictures and information about yourself and he puts together a really nice, artistic display.

"Mike's brother? Hey, maybe if I gives Tom some business, den Mike will let my tournaments qualify fer da TOC. Now dat he's a big shot, him an' his fancy tuxedo, he t'inks da Barstow Card Casino ain't good enough fer him."

"That isn't the reason, Denny. Mike feels your tournaments are rigged because in the last 20 weeks you've won 15 times."

"Oh, yeah, den how come other guys won it five weeks in a row?"

"That's because you were in jail for 30 days when you beat up the guy who won it the first time. What would you do with the collage, anyway?"

"I figgered I'd hang it in da casino's bar. Give da place a classy look, ya know? Anyways, I needs ta replace dat nude paintin' of Aunt Sophie, which all da customers are complainin' about."

"I can't imagine why," I said, turning away because I knew what came next.

Big Denny grabbed my collar. "Not so fast, Maxey. Since you t'ink yer some kinda writer, I'm gonna let ya help me put dis t'ing together. Got a problem wit' dat?"

I agreed, partly out of curiosity about Big Denny's past and partly out of a sense of survival. I told him to gather up all his favorite photos and I'd stop by his place the following week.

The casino was pretty quiet when I walked in. Big Denny explained that an "infant station" (I assumed he meant infestation) of boll weevils was endangering the nearby cotton fields and most of his patrons were running around trying to save their crops. "If it ain't one t'ing it's another in dis hick town," he complained.

He dumped a pile of pictures on a table. Many of them were photos of "Grand Re-openings," and I asked how come he had so many.

"Aww, dem picky jerks in dis town are always shuttin' me down, and den I has ta bribe someone ta get my license back so's I can have a re-openin'."

"Just how many times have you been shut down?" I asked.

Big Denny began counting on his fingers. "Let's see, Maxey. Once fer lettin' minors in, once fer servin' drinks after hours, once fer food sanitation violations, once fer loan sharkin', once fer lettin' hookers in da bar, once fer usin' marked cards, once fer a homicide. Nuttin' serious. Oh, an' two citations fer skimmin'."

How come they cited you twice for skimming?"

"'Cause I wuz skimmin' an illegal crap game."

"I see. Well, do you have any close-up photos of yourself?"

Denny produced several, front and side views, which looked suspiciously like mug shots. I asked him about the numbers that were hung around his neck.

"Dat's my Social Security number, Maxey. Maybe Tom can crap dem out of da pitchers."

"Well, maybe. Now give me more information about yourself," I prompted. "What did you do before you got in the casino business?"

"Lotsa t'ings, Maxey. Sellin' aluminum sidin', pavin' people's driveways wit' stuff dat dissolved when it rained, sellin' used cars dat couldn't go 50 feet, da numbers racket, a little strong arm stuff, da usual hustle. Oh, and I once had a medical supply business."

"I remember reading about that when they busted you. What you had was a chop shop for stolen wheelchairs."

Big Denny smiled ear to ear. "Yeah, once we sold da same chair to some old dame four times."

"I don't know," I said doubtfully. "Ever get any awards in school?"

"Yeah," Big Denny beamed. "I wuz voted da best behaved student in reform school. All da kids voted fer me except fer one little jerk who had a bad accident later in machine shop."

All that's missing, I thought to myself, was a Citizen of the Year award. Looking for a way to soften his image, I asked if he had any family photos.

"Sure," he said proudly, rummaging around and producing a picture of his son, Baby Denny. Baby Denny was only eight, but you would not want to meet him in a dark alley. "What's that thing on his neck, a birthmark?" I asked.

"Nah, dat's a gang tattoo. He wanted a naked lady, but I told him he wuz too young. He'll hafta wait till he's 11."

Promising to see what I could do, I took everything home, wrote a story that put him in the best possible light (like calling him a colorful character rather than a dangerous hoodlum) and mailed it all in. A few days later the material was returned, along with an indignant note from Tom Sexton declaring that he wasn't about to lower his standards.

When I broke the bad news to Big Denny, he muttered the usual threats about sitting on Tom's head, then calmed down. "Aw, maybe I oughta leave well enough alone. Bar business is way up since I put Aunt Sophie in dere. Dat pitcher'd drive anyone ta drink."

Fishing for Suckers On the Linda O.

2007-02-05T19:10:00.001-08:00

Fishing for Suckers On the Linda O.
By Max Shapiro

My friend Fresh Air Freddy invited me one day to join him on a deep-sea fishing trip and enjoy the healthful benefits of clean salt air.

"I don't think so," I said. "After all those years of inhaling smoke in card parlors, I don't think my lungs could handle the pure stuff. Besides," I added, "the only fish I care about reeling in are at the poker table."

"They play poker on those fishing boats," Freddy said slyly.

"How high?"

"Oh, 10 and 20," I believe.

"Hmmm," I said. "Meet Max, the riverboat gambler." Freddy, insisting that I have the proper equipment, took me shopping for gear. The rod, reel, line, tackle box, hooks, sinkers, lures, floats, and other junk, plus the fishing license and boat ticket, set me back over three bills, but I figured to win that much easy playing poker with the rubes.

That night, Freddy and I drove up the California coast to Santa Barbara for the overnight excursion. Our boat was the Linda O., a rusty, peeling, beat-up old scow that looked like it had seen service at the Battle of New Orleans. I wondered if it could make it out of the harbor.

"Is that thing safe?" I asked doubtfully.

"Splendid vessel," Freddy assured me. "Let's get on board."

I stumbled up the gangplank onto the boat and followed him below deck to a tiny cabin packed with fishermen; it looked like the hold of a slave ship. I found a top bunk and climbed into it, cracking my head on the ceiling.

With everyone on board, attempts were made to start the ancient engine. On the tenth try, it finally coughed into life, and as the boat began to shake violently, I began to have serious misgivings about this excursion.

After a short and fitful night of sleep, with dreams of being eaten by sharks, I woke to feel the Linda O. rolling and heaving alarmingly. I staggered up on deck to confront a bleak vista of endless cold gray water under an endless cold gray sky. I suddenly understood why Christopher Columbus' crew wanted to mutiny.

Freddy was already on deck, breathing deeply and wolfing down a greasy breakfast cheeseburger. My stomach flipped and I quickly averted my gaze.

Finally, thankfully, the boat stopped and the captain gave the OK to drop our lines in the water. I went to the live bait tank and after several tries managed to grab a slippery, squirming anchovy which I impaled on my hook, painfully impaling my finger in the process. Dripping blood, I squeezed in among the fishermen crowding the rail and, with a mighty heave, cast my line into the sea.

The line traveled about five feet before the reel jammed and the filament tangled into a nasty birds nest. I couldn't undo it and had to cut away 50 feet of line. On my second try, I snagged the line of the fisherman next to me. He smacked me and cut my line free, costing me another 100 feet, plus tackle.

The third time I gave up on fancy casting and just let my line drop straight down. After about an hour, I felt a faint tug. Reeling frantically, I brought up an ugly little spiny orange fish that glared at me murderously with its bulging black eyes. I grabbed it...and screamed in pain.

"That's a sculpin, you idiot!" one of the fishermen berated me. "Don't you know the spines are poisonous?"

I did now; my hand was throbbing and swelling and had turned the same color as the sculpin. After a while the pain subsided enough to let me attempt fishing again. This time I snagged something really big. After a Herculean battle, I brought to the surface a fish roughly the size of a submarine. It was a groper. Or maybe a merlin. Whatever it was, it had to be of record size.

"Get the gaff!" I screamed. "And a camera."

A deckhand strolled up, looked over the side, and made a disgusted face. "That's a shark, you nincompoop. We can't bring a shark on deck," he said, cutting loose my last 200 feet of filament.

Finally, the captain ordered lines up, and several of us went into the galley and crowded into a booth to play poker. An old coot in a railroad cap dug out a ratty deck of cards that looked to have seen continuous service since Gettysburg.

"Stakes are ten and twenty, right?" I asked him.

"Yep. Hey, Flo, bring us a sack of dimes."

The galley cook dumped a pile of change on the table. I glared at Freddy, but he ignored me and bit into a tamale.

I won the deal. "You boys play Omaha?" I asked hopefully. Blank stares. "Hold'em?" More head-shaking. "Not even crazy pineapple? What then?"

"Real poker," one of the players said. "You know, deuces wild, baseball, spit in the ocean, all that stuff."

Just great -- back to high school poker. Sighing, I called baseball and everyone anted a nickel.

My first up-card was a wild three and I had to match the pot for 30 cents. I kept catching threes and matching the growing pot. After all the betting was over, I was in for eight bucks, but who cared? I had five aces and would skin these boobs.

I showed my hand. "No good," the old coot grinned. "I got me six kings."

"Six kings?" I protested. "There's no such hand."

"Tryin' to tell us how to play poker, boy?"

I shoved him the pot.

The next game, even more sophisticated, was "Indian Pete," played by holding your hole card against your forehead face out. I lost another four bucks. The slaughter continued. In three hours, I was out an unbelievable $200. I stared murderously at Freddy, now munching happily on a chili dog.

Suddenly, it all became too much for me. The crazy games, the rocking boat, the kitchen galley grease, the fish odors, diesel fuel, Fresh Air Freddy's chili dog....

Clamping my hand to my mouth, I dashed out to the rail. My dinner went overboard, followed by my fishing rod, tackle box, the ugly little sculpin -- and finally, Fresh Air Freddy.

The police were sympathetic. They ruled it justifiable homicide.

The Commissioner of Poker

2007-02-05T19:09:00.003-08:00

The Commissioner of Poker
By Max Shapiro

I was schmoozing one night with two special friends, Vince Burgio, one of the classiest acts on the tournament circuit, and Jack Fox, the engaging and friendly Reno attorney who's been making numerous final table finishes lately. (My sweetie likes Jack so much that she's determined to match him up with her baby sister, Carol. Hey, Jack, phone Carol and propose to her already, will ya?)

Anyway, Vince and Jack were discussing the need in the poker world for a strong players association to lobby for things like standardization of rules and protective surveillance cameras in all tournament rooms. They both agreed that a "Commissioner of Poker" should then be chosen to head such an association.

Well, why not, I thought, mulling the idea over later. Commissioners at times have brought greatness to their industries. As AFL commissioner, Pete Rozelle transformed sports, making the Super Bowl a national holiday and pro football a trillion-dollar business. When Will Hays became kind of a commissioner of motion pictures in 1922, he sent theater popcorn sales soaring by changing the boxes from small, medium, and large to large, jumbo, and galactic. (The sizes of the boxes didn't actually change, they just seemed bigger.)

So, why not a Commissioner of Poker? Someone with vision, integrity, and creativity who is admired by one and all in the poker industry. In other words, someone like me.

But I had to rule myself out. After all, if I accepted the post of Commissioner of Poker, I would have to give up my lucrative job as a professional player. Unfortunately, not everyone admits how well I play. For example, someone once asked me if I'd be in a certain tournament. No, I replied, explaining that the Yom Kippur high holidays started at sundown that evening.

"Don't worry," my sweetie assured me, "you'll be knocked out long before sundown."

In any event, it would still be a conflict of interest, so I began interviewing other well-known players as candidates for Commissioner of Poker. I started with Ralph the Rattler, who needs something else to do now that the Peace and Freedom party, where he keeps running for congress, has been dropped from the California ballot after getting too few votes to bother counting in the last election. I asked him what changes he would make if he were commissioner.

He scratched his skull. "Wull, I'd start by lowering the legal age for playing poker."

"Oh, you mean age 18, the same as in tribal casinos?"

"No," he said, rubbing his hands together. "More like 6. Boy, could we skin those kiddies."

"Uh, thanks, Ralph," I told him. "We'll keep you in mind."

Next, I checked out "Super Mario" Esquerra and asked him what he'd fix if he were poker commissioner.

"I not like how they give the odd chip," he complained. "Sometime it go to the player on the left of the dealer, sometime on the right, sometime high card, sometime low. Is stupid."

"Good point," I agreed. "How would you decide it?"

Esquerra flexed his massive biceps, each tattooed with a big red heart and the tender inscription, "I love Mario."

"We have fist fight for it!" he growled.

"Novel idea," I mumbled, backing away. "We'll be in touch."

I spotted John Bonetti and asked him what he considered to be the biggest problem in poker.

"Da dealers," he said without hesitation. "Ya know how many pots I lost on account of dem bums? Ya think dey could find individuals wit' at least a two-digit I.Q., and besides, most a dem come from anudda country, an' poifect English ain't exactly somethin' what ya'd expect ta hear from dem too much in da foist place, if ya unnerstan' what I mean."

"Of course I do," I replied, not entirely truthfully. "Who would you have as dealers, then?"

Bonetti shrugged. "Start wit' trained monkeys. Dat would be a big improvement."

Dirty Wally was the one player I didn't have to look for. When word of my mission got out, he found me like a heat- seeking missile and handed over a 14-page resume listing every position he had ever held in his life, starting with when he was appointed hall monitor in the second grade. He informed me he was willing to accept the job providing he got a book and TV deal out of it and a film was made of his life.

"Either Mel Gibson or Harrison Ford could play me, I ain't particular," he said graciously.

I pretended to make a notation in my notebook and went on with my search, but found that everyone seemed to have a different priority. Big Denny wanted faster food servers, or better yet, to have poker tables installed inside the restaurants. Aberdeen Angus McTavish, the world's tightest and cheapest poker player, wanted to abolish collections and make them voluntary. Barbara Enright demanded that the bottled water in casinos to be upgraded to Aquafina, or Sparkletts at a minimum. And Tom McEvoy was interested in setting dress and fashion standards for all players.

So, I'm still looking. Or I was until I happened to check my won-loss poker records for the year. Come to think of it, maybe I will give up my poker day job and accept the post of commissioner after all. Anything for the good of poker.

Disorder in the Court

2007-02-05T19:09:00.001-08:00

Disorder in the Court
By Max Shapiro

Most of you probably saw that now-famous "Judge Judy" show last month, the one where John Bonetti brought suit against Dirty Wally. But for the benefit of those of you who missed it because your TV set is in the pawn shop, here's what happened.

It seems that Bonetti staked Wally in a tournament satellite. When he saw how Wally played a hand that cost him all his chips, he became so enraged that he complained to every player in the room who would listen, and then he demanded his money back.

Wally indignantly refused, whereupon Bonetti sued him for impersonating a poker player. Wally in turn threatened to counter-sue for defamation of character, and they both agreed to air their differences on Judge Judy's court TV program.

At the appointed hour, Dirty Wally, Bonetti, and Big Denny, whom John had brought along as a corroborating witness, stood in front of the judge. Dirty Wally wore his usual cowboy hat and jeans with a water bottle stuck in his back pocket. Big Denny was garbed in a Barstow Card Casino T-shirt. Judge Judy stared at them in disbelief, then asked the plaintiff and defendant to identify themselves.

"I'm da plaintiff, your honor," John Bonetti began. Dat bum dere boint up the dough I gave him t' play on."

"Hey," Dirty Wally broke in, "bad beats happen to everyone. Besides, it was the dealer's fault...."

Judge Judy banged her gavel. "How about we talk one at a time here? She peered at Dirty Wally over her reading glasses. "It says here that you call yourself 'Dirty Wally.' Is that your real name?"

"His real name is Cecil," said Big Denny. "Hey, Theethil, kin I come over ta yer house an' play wit yer dolls?" Big Denny snickered, then ducked as Dirty Wally flung his water bottle at him.

Judge Judy stared at Big Denny in disbelief. And who, pray tell, is this bozo?" she inquired.

"Dat bozo is my expoit witness," Bonetti replied.

"Yeah, lady," said Big Denny. "Ya got a problem wit dat?" For perhaps the first time in her life, Judge Judy was at a loss for words. She turned back to Dirty Wally. "This is a courtroom, Mr. Wally. Please remove your hat." Wally did not respond. "Do you see my lips moving?" the judge berated him. "I asked you to take off that idiotic cowboy hat."

Wally approached the bench and whispered something in her ear.

"I don't care if you're bald, that hat comes off!" she shouted, and yanked it off his head.

Unfortunately, the long, ratty wig to which it was attached came off as well, revealing that Wally was as bald as a melon.

"Eeeyah!" Judge Judy screamed. "Put that hat back on." She sighed deeply. "Now, is it acceptible with everyone if we proceed? Mr. Bonetti, please state your case."

"Soitenly," Bonetti said. "Foist of all, I put this bum here in a satellite...."

"Where did you put him?" Judge Judy asked in confusion. "In a satellite," Bonetti repeated.

"Ya see, it's like poker, only instead of playin' fer money, ya play ta win yer table, which if you should happen to do, then ya get to play in da regular tournament, so I put up 55 bucks of my own money for half of dat bum's action, in case he should happen to win his table and cash out in the tournament, which ain't too likely after I see da way he plays, like he's a school goil just loinin' da game, if ya know what I mean."

Judge Judy had no clue what he meant. "Could you be a little more specific?" she prodded.

"Sure, Bonetti responded. Da game was 7-card stud highlow eight or better, which Wally tells me is one of his best games. Anyway, he's in a pot playin' against another poisen who's got four low cards showin', and he's playin' like king, jack, ten, an' he's tryin' ta make a straight, an' of course he don't make it, an' loses all his chips, and when I give him a little friendly advice by tellin' him he's the woist player who I have ever seen in my whole life, he gets mad and blames the dealer. Ain't dat right, Denny?"

"Yeah, dat's right," said Big Denny. "I think Wally needs new glasses, or maybe a seein' eye dog."

Judge Judy still had no idea what was going on. "And what is your response, Mr. Wally?"

"I call as my witness that eminent poker authority, Miss Barbara Enright," Wally announced triumphantly.

"OK, Barbara, now tell the judge what you told me." "Oh, I once saw John play exactly the same hand exactly the same way in a tournament," Enright testified.

"He got broke too."

"Hey, dat was different!" Bonetti shouted. "Besides, it was da dealer's fault. If dealers had more brains dey would be waiters." Bonetti threw up his hands. "Anyway, what's da use even discussin' dis? It was my own fault stakin' Wally. Only time I ever seen him cash out was once when he found two quarters in a telephone change slot."

Now it was Wally's turn to become incensed. "Hey, I've won over 200 tournaments!" he yelled.

"Yeah, den how come I ain't never seen yer name in Card Player?" Bonetti demanded.

"I play under an assumed name to fool the IRS," Wally replied.

"Yeah? What name?"

"T.J. Cloutier. How d'ya think he got named player of the year?"

An ancient creature in a Civil War cap struggled to his feet in the spectator section. "That's tellin' 'em, sonny," cackled Filthy Willy, Dirty Wally's grandfather.

Judge Judy banged down her gavel. "Order in the court!"

"OK," said Big Denny. "I'll have a ham and cheese sandwich on rye."

Judge Judy banged her gavel down even harder.

"With a side order of pork chops," Big Denny added.

Judge Judy held her head in obvious pain. "Oh, why didn't I just become a dental hygienist?" she wailed. "All right, here's my ruling. I haven't the faintest idea what either of you two gentlemen are talking about, so I'm going to split the money down the middle, providing you both use it for educational purposes."

"What kind of education?" they both asked. "Poker lessons for Mr. Wally and elocution lessons for Mr. Bonetti. Court is adjourned."

Stick to the Point -- Any Point

2007-02-05T19:08:00.002-08:00

Stick to the Point -- Any Point
By Max Shapiro

I admire Andy Glazer immensely. He is a gentleman and a gifted, polished writer. I like the way he throws in a lot of great quotes in his stories, though I'm not sure if that's because he's cultured or if he just looks them up in Bartlett's Quotations like I do. In any event, his tournament write-ups are lucid, insightful, entertaining, and very readable. Andy also happens to be an attorney. But, as Joe E. Brown said in the famous last line of the film Some Like it Hot, after he discovered that his "girl friend" Jack Lemmon was really a boy, "Well, nobody's perfect."

Anyway, a while back I was intrigued to notice that Andy had made a rare post on rgp, the Internet poker newsgroup site. He was complaining about the tendency of so many posted threads to be "hijacked" and veer off in other directions as the messages twisted and turned like the Mississippi River, until people ended up viciously arguing topics that had not the remotest connection with the original message.

I know what he means. Some of those follow-up posts wander around so erratically that they make Mike Caro's columns look as spare and direct as a Hemingway short story. Andy suggested that anyone wanting to divert from the central theme of a post should show the courtesy of starting a new post rather than tangling up an existing one. He got mixed responses. One rgp regular suggested that "Mr. Author" (AuthorAndy is his screen name) stick to writing his book about a spoiled tournament star and not try to run the lives or ruin the fun of rgp groupies, who hang around the house in bathrobes, picking lint out of their navels and checking rgp several times a day.

Well, I agree with Andy. After all, it's very disconcerting to try to follow a serious poker subject, such as the best starting hands in Omaha high-low, only to find that 22 threads later the discussion has morphed into a spirited debate over the merits of SAT college entrance tests. My theory is that most rgp habitues have serious cases of attention deficit disorder.

So, I would like to address the important topic of sticking to the point when writing for that newsgroup. You may ask why I don't just post this on that poker newsgroup rather than in my column. I have a very good reason: rec.gambling.poker doesn't pay me. On the other hand, rgp doesn't mess up my material by editing in a lot, of, useless, commas, but that's another story.

Now I will give my lecture on sticking to the point, and I promise to make it short and sweet. To quote a line from Hamlet, "Brevity is the soul of wit." There are a lot of great lines in Hamlet. My favorite is the one he wrote about railbirds: "Neither a borrower nor a lender be, even when he says he's rooting for you." Wait a minute, I'm getting sidetracked now just like Mike Caro. Let's stick to the point, shall we?

Anyway, let's say someone asks about Omaha hands and hopes for satisfying answers. I'll use the analogy of a male fish swimming upstream to spoon, or spawn, or whatever it is they do with other fish. If it sticks to the main channel, it will get there quickly and have its choice of a real babe fish to mess around with. But if it wastes time dawdling and exploring side channels and tributaries, it'll end up with a dog fish.

Now, perhaps you've been spoiled by my usual weighty articles and you think this is too trifling a subject to devote a whole column to. Oh, yeah? What about when Vince Burgio took up most of a column talking about how he never knows which way to turn when he gets off a certain elevator at Binion's? Big deal. I still can't remember which way to turn when I get off the elevator at the building where I've lived for about 80 years now.

Hold it, quit distracting me and let me get to the point about sticking to the point. I was talking about fish going upstream, right? I'm not sure if it's salmon or trout who do that. I don't know much about salmon, but I used to trout fish when I had part ownership a condo apartment in Mammoth Lakes, California. I think I used worms for bait. I was told it was more sporting to use flies, but I had a hard time catching them, and I never could get a fly to stick to the hook.

Mammoth is a great ski resort. I used to ski there a lot. The first time I did I broke my leg. I took one lesson, thought it was easy, and stupidly took a lift all the way to the top. I was shooting down, a mile a minute and having a great time, when I suddenly realized that I hadn't learned how to stop. Eventually I did stop, but my leg kept going. Nowadays they have computerized releases on your ski bindings so that if you just sneeze you pop free. Back in the stone ages when I started, they just nailed your foot to the ski, so that if you took a bad fall you were dead meat. Back at the hospital ...

See what I mean? I started off talking about Omaha hands, and Andy got me diverted to the dangers of skiing. Next time, start your own thread, pal.

Big Denny's Poker Camp

2007-02-05T19:08:00.001-08:00

Big Denny's Poker Camp
By Max Shapiro

Big Denny and I were talking one evening about our poker beginnings. "I learned the game when I was 12 years old, in Boy Scout camp, playing for merit badges," I said. "How about you?"

"I started playin' when I wuz 11," Big Denny grinned, "in reform school. We played fer cigarette butts."

"Were you ever a Boy Scout?" I asked.

"You mean them weenies who run aroun' in little pants wit' hankychiefs around dere necks? I usta beat 'em up an' take dere lunch money."

"I loved Boy Scout Camp," I reminisced. "All those keen outdoor things to do, and camping out, and learning stuff. You know, I wish there was a poker camp where you could do all that and get poker lessons, too."

Big Denny's eyes lit up. "Say, I just recollected. I got me some resort property in Louisiana. It'd be a swell place fer a poker camp."

"Louisiana? How'd you end up with property there?"

"Aw, some guy needed a car quick fer a getaway, so I swapped him one off my lot fer his land deed."

"Sounds risky. What if he didn't have legal title to the property?"

"Don't matter. I didn't have legal title to da car."

Normally, Big Denny's attention span is measured in microseconds, and I didn't attach any importance to our conversation. So, I was startled a few months later when he handed me a brochure for Big Denny's Poker Camp, a luxury waterfront resort offering physical conditioning, nightly tournaments, authentic regional cuisine, and lectures by recognized poker experts. Normally, I would not trust Big Denny to give me change for a quarter, but since the poker camp was my suggestion, I felt obligated to sign on.

The charter flight left from "Barstow International Airport," which turned out to be an abandoned World War II airstrip in the middle of the desert. The carrier was Ecuadorian Airlines. The craft was a vintage DC-1 cargo plane, circa 1939, with bullet holes in its wings from skirmishes with rebel insurgents. And I was not reassured when I saw the pilot studying a gas station map trying to locate Louisiana.

We took our seats. The engines were started with the aid of jumper cables, and the ancient aircraft, overloaded and underpowered, struggled down the sand-covered tarmac. Seconds before the runway ended, with the pilot screaming "Ai, carramba!" it managed to lurch into the air, barely clearing some power lines. "Ole!" the pilot yelled in triumph.

The flight was so turbulent that everyone, including the pilot, threw up continuously into barf bags that the stewardess then threw out the plane's window. The pilot had to land twice at rural airfields to ask directions, but finally we arrived. After buzzing the landing strip to chase off grazing cows, the pilot bumped the plane down more or less in one piece, inspiring all of the passengers, including those of the Jewish faith, to thankfully cross themselves.

We shakily disembarked to find several hay wagons waiting to take us to Big Denny's Poker Camp. The "resort," located amid scrub pines near a swampy pond, consisted of a ramshackle shed for a classroom and several war surplus pup tents for sleeping quarters. After we unpacked and settled in, Big Denny started a campfire and invited everyone to gather round and sing cheery campfire songs. Unfortunately, the only one anybody knew was "Comin' 'Round the Mountain," and after 84 verses of "She'll be comin' 'round the mountain when she comes, when she comes," the campers grew bored and drifted off to their tents.

Drifting off to sleep was another matter. What with the buzzing of flies and mosquitos, insects crawling into sleeping bags, and frightening hoots and growls from the encircling forest, it was hours before anyone achieved slumber.

We were awakened at 6 a.m. by someone tooting reveille on a tin bugle. The bugler was Filthy Willy, Dirty Wally's grandfather, who stuck his face into each tent, yelling, "Get outta bed, ya lazy varmints, we got exercises to do."

The poker students stumbled out and assembled in the shed. From up on a stage, Filthy Willy glared down at us.

"Look at ye, ya pasty-faced weaklin' sissies. I'm gonna get ya in shape ta play poker if it kills ye. We'll start with a dandy exercise fer yer coordination that I learned in the Confederate Army. It's called jumpin' jacks. Now watch careful."

With that, he strained mightily and jumped into the air, fell off the stage, crashed into the front row of seats, and knocked himself unconscious.

Big Denny came out. "That was terrific, Willy, jus' terrific. Let's give 'im a big hand. Our next subject is hustlin', an' your instructor is the world's leadin' authority, Mr. Frank Henderson.

Frank Henderson strolled up, smiling and nodding to the students. "Howdy, folks, nice to be here," he began. "For my first lesson, I'll need to borrow a hunnerd dollar bill from someone."

A little nerd jumped up. "I have one, Mr. Henderson."

"Thank you, son," Henderson said, smoothly slipping the bill into his Member's Only jacket and walking out the door. "The first lesson is never loan money to a stranger."

Big Denny came back on stage. "That was great, Frank, a really valuable lesson. An' now, Mr. John Bonetti will talk to us about player-dealer relations."

"Foist of all," Bonetti began, "ye should never coise dealers, because doy woik hard and desoive ta oin a livin'. I mean, de're human-- most of 'em, anyway-- so ya shouldn't be consoined if dey boin and toin a card too soon an' cost ya a big pot, ya know what I mean?" From the blank looks on the faces of the students, nobody did, but he continued. "An' soitenly, no matter what dose no-good bums do to ya wit' dere stupid dealing, no matter how much money dey cost ye," he ranted, working himself into a frenzy, "ye should never hoit 'em by doin' dis."

Bonetti jumped off the stage, grabbed the same little nerd around the neck, and shook him violently.

"Good advice, John," said Big Denny, leading the applause. "We will now have a seminar on financial planning, led by Mr. Eskimo Clark, who, as yer all know, just won $80,000 in a tournament at da Barstow Card Casino."

Eskimo Clark shuffled up on stage and looked sheepishly at his audience. "Anybody want to stake me in tonight's tournament?" he asked.

I glanced at the program. The next lecture was by Tom McEvoy on proper cardroom attire. I figured that was one I could skip. Besides, it was stifling hot in the shed, so I slipped out, put on my swimsuit, and dove into the murky pond. After splashing around for a while, I noticed one of the local hicks staring at me. I waved to him. "Come on in, friend, the water's fine."

The hick shook his head vigorously.

"What're you afraid of?" I laughed. "Deep water? Currents? Sharp rocks?"

"Gators."

I broke every Olympic record swimming to shore and ran up to Big Denny.

"Denny, there are alligators in the pond!" I shouted.

Big Denny scratched his head. "Oh, yeah, I was wonderin' what happened to Grumpy Joe." He saw the stricken look on my face. "Aw, maybe he'll show up. But if he don't, keep quiet about it, and we kin chop his bankroll."

"Shouldn't there be a warning sign?"

"Hey, there wuz one, but we needed wood fer da campfire," he explained, logically.

Suddenly, the water churned and we heard a bloodcurdling scream.

"Sounds like Action Al," Denny observed. "Remind me ta put up a new sign next week, Maxey."

Just then, the lunch bell rang. The "authentic regional cuisine" consisted of fried possum and alligator stew. I passed on the possum but, out of curiosity, took a bowl of the stew. I was about to dig in when I noticed what looked like a halfdigested ear floating on top. In horror, I took it over to Big Denny, who examined it at length.

"Yep, dat's Joe," he declared, tossing the ear into a garbage can. "I recognizes da hair in it. Guess we won't be hearin' any more complaints from dat old grump now."

Mike Caro was scheduled to be the first speaker of the afternoon, talking on good luck affirmations. He was hampered, though, because he had the bad luck to have raccoons steal his good luck tapes. Then, as he stood on stage chanting, "I am surrounded by a powerful force," he was surrounded by a powerful swarm of hornets that sent him fleeing from the classroom.

That night, there was a near-tragedy when a bear carried off Dirty Wally. But the bear became so glassy-eyed from Wally's nonstop chatter that he returned in 10 minutes and angrily tossed him back into the tent.

Well, things didn't get much better after that. What with the alligators, bears, snakes, and Big Denny's cuisine, the student body kept shrinking, and then the rightful owner of the property showed up with the sheriff and evicted us. Even worse, our plane had been called back to Ecuador to bomb rebels who were approaching the capital. And since we had lost all of our money in Denny's rigged poker games, there was nothing to do but to hitchhike home.

All in all, it was quite an experience. Anyway, one thing's for sure: Boy Scout Camp was never like this.

A Field Guide to Railbirds

2007-02-05T19:06:00.000-08:00

A Field Guide to Railbirds
By Max Shapiro

The legendary naturalist John James Audubon spent his entire life studying, painting, and cataloging wild birds, but his work was incomplete because he omitted one important species: the railbird.

To rectify this oversight, I'd like to offer a complete description of the genus North American Railbird: its habitat, foliage, colors, behavior, physical characteristics, and distinctive sounds -- everything, in fact, but its mating habits. That's because the railbird is so busy trying to scrounge up money that it never can find time to mate.

A railbird's habitat is a cardroom. It can be spotted lurking at the Edges of live games or tournaments stalking its prey -- anyone with money. A railbird can be identified by his shabby dress and empty wallet. He also has a distinctive pose: His hand is outstretched, his mouth is opened just a bit at the corner so that he can't be overheard pitching you, and his eyes dart furtively around the room looking for the next potential philanthropist to hit on.

A railbird's eyes are usually very puffy. That's because a railbird Sleeps on average about two hours a day. Think about it. At 10 a.m. on a tournament day, you will find a flock of railbirds trying to talk their way into a satellite. At 7 p.m., the same railbirds are still trying to get staked in the tournament. Fast-forward to 4 a.m. at the final table. Besides the players, the only people still left in the room are the tournament director, the graveyard shift cleanup porter, and the same flock of railbirds waiting to fly to the winner.

Another sure way to identify a railbird is by the distinctive noises it makes. When a railbird is looking to be staked in a tournament, he always says the same thing: "This is my best game." It doesn't matter if the tournament is hold'em, stud, lowball, Omaha, razz, crazy pineapple, Chinese poker, pai gow, fan tan, pan, or steal the old man's bundle. "This is my best game." Now, this is not entirely untrue. Any game is a railbird's "best" game because he plays them all the same: terribly. If he played the game that well, why is he asking you for money in the first place?

Looking to be staked, a railbird once bragged to John Bonetti that he had just won several thousand dollars in a tournament. When Bonetti, not unreasonably, asked why he didn't play with those winnings, the railbird gave him a funny look. "Oh, I can't use my own money," he said.

Before a tournament, a railbird tells every potential benefactor, "I'm rooting for you." After the tournament, he assures the winner, "I was rooting for you." During a tournament, it depends. If Irving is the chip leader, all of the railbirds in the gallery are chirping, "Come on, Irving!" The next hand, Irving loses most of his chips to Ishmael, and now the railbirds start hooting, "Come on, Ishmael!"

Railbirds will often tell you that they need $20 for gas money. $20? This might be a reasonable sum if the railbird was flying his own jet. In point of fact, half the railbirds don't own a car, and those that do sleep in them in the parking lot. All they need is enough gas to move their cars to a different parking spot every 72 hours so that they don't get towed. It's easy to spot a railbird's car. It's the one with a foot of dust and a license plate from 1988, the last time the heap was off the lot. I remember one time when a casino repaved its parking lot and four railbirds' cars got asphalted over. The casino now boasts the world's biggest speed bumps.

Another angle that railbirds have going for them is to offer to cosign your W2-G form for a percentage when you cash out in a tournament so that you can cheat on your taxes. Of course, if a railbird had won as many tournaments as he says he has, you'd be cosigning his W2-G forms. To be very technical, a railbird is not actually a real bird. True birds fly south for the winter. If railbirds did the same, you'd at least have a few months of peace during their absence.

There aren't too many things you can do to protect yourself from the aggravation of a railbird. Ducking into a restroom when you see one coming won't help. The railbird will either stand guard by the door or follow you into your stall -- regardless of your gender. Cupping your ear and pretending to be deaf won't do it either. The railbird will just hand you a card, printed in six different languages, that reads: "Can you stake me? This is my best game."

You might try turning your pockets inside out to indicate that you're broke when you see a railbird coming. However, a really aggressive railbird will then find someone to loan you money so that you can stake it. There is one tactic that might work. It's based on the adage that the best defense is a good offense. When a railbird approaches you, before it can say a word, quickly ask it for a loan.

However, if all else fails, there is one sure way to send a railbird into such deep hiding that you'll never see it again: Loan it some money.

The Tightest Player in the World

2007-02-05T19:05:00.000-08:00

The Tightest Player in the World
By Max Shapiro

I recently had the pleasure of interviewing Aberdeen Angus McTavish, the current national poker champion of Scotland, which of course makes him the tightest player in the world.

How tight are Scottish poker players? Well, the championship hold'em game lasted 12 days because the two finalists refused to play anything less than aces. The standoff finally ended when Aberdeen Angus and Edinburgh Eddie McNeil both were dealt bullets; four spades then hit the board to give Angus a winning flush and the title.

"Ach, I should have been more patient and waited till I had better aces," Edinburgh Eddie lamented afterward. "But just as well, since the cows sore needed milkin' by then."

It sounded like an interesting story, so when I read that Angus had flown over (economy class, of course) to promote his new poker book, and would be in town for a book signing, I went to the store where he was appearing.

There he was, a ruddy-cheeked man in kilts and a plaid Stetson, signing his name in the teeniest script I had ever seen. (I later learned that all Scotsmen write that way to conserve ink.) I asked if I could interview him.

"Can ye na see that I'm busy, lad?"

"I'll buy you lunch," I offered.

Angus whipped out a sign that read, "Back in 45 minutes," took my arm, and hustled me out the door. "Ask me anything, lad," he beamed.

We found a nice restaurant down the street. When we walked in, Angus grabbed half the after-dinner mints off the counter and stuck them in his pocket. Then, after making certain that I would pick up the tab, he ordered a porterhouse steak and a single-malt Scotch. When he was done stuffing himself and into his third Scotch, I asked him to describe his book.

"It says, 'Play tight,'" he said.

"Is that the gist of the text?"

"Aye, and 'tis also the whole of the text -- just the two words: 'Play tight.'"

"Wait a minute," I protested. "You can't write a book with just two words."

"We Scots are very thrrrifty with our words," he replied. "In any event, I got the inspiration from Roy West. All he ever writes in his column is 'Play happy.'"

Angus ordered another single malt. His tab already far exceeded what I'd get paid for the interview, so I decided I'd better talk faster.

"What's your favorite hand?" I asked.

"A suited ace," Angus replied.

"Suited with what?"

"Anotherrr ace, of course."

"Don't you ever play anything but aces?" I persisted.

Angus pondered at some length. "Kings -- if there's been no rrraise."

He thought some more. "Perhaps queens, if I'm on the button."

Suddenly he frowned and his face reddened. "Once I played a pairrr of jacks in early position ?of course, I was a wee bit drrrunk at the time."

"Doesn't sound like Scottish poker has much action," I commented.

"Aye. A hand once came up in a tournament and there were thrrree callers.

Made all the front pages. Biggest news since Sandy McTeague's cow gave birth to a two-headed calf."

"I heard your prize amounted to five thousand pounds," I said. "May I ask how much you tipped the dealers?"

Aberdeen Angus suddenly experienced a violent coughing fit and pretended he didn't hear the question.

It was becoming plain that the man was as tight as three coats of paint; he was even helping himself to sugar packets off nearby tables. Tiring of his miserliness, I tried to change the subject.

"What do you think of the new four-color decks?" I asked.

"We've had them in Scotland for yearrrs," he shrugged. "Sometimes six-color, even eight-color decks."

"How can you have eight colors in a four-suited deck?"

"Oh, the suits haven't changed, laddie; 'tis the backs that have different colors. In Scotland, we neverrr throw decks out, we just mix them together when the cards get torrrn."

As we walked out (with Angus lifting the remaining mints), I asked him how book sales were going.

"Excellent, laddie. I'm even working on a sequel."

"Do you have a title?"

"Aye. Play Tight -- With Good Position."

Cowboy Carl and the Loose Gooses

2007-02-04T23:48:00.000-08:00

Cowboy Carl and the Loose Gooses
By Dave Scharf

TWO CATEGORIES OF PLAYER

There are two broad categories of new poker players pouring into traditional and online poker rooms. The first group consists of purely recreational players. For the most part, they have been drawn into the game because of television. They take delight in mimicking what they have seen on television, but despite what they may say, they are not going to any great lengths to become skillful players. The second group consists of players who are actively working at getting better. They want to become skilled card sharks. Many are even dreaming about the supposed "green pastures" of playing poker for a living.

Chances are that since you are reading this article, you belong to the second group. Your thirst for poker knowledge has driven you to PokerPages.com, and you have stumbled upon this humble column in the hope that I can impart some rare gem of wisdom that will unlock the vault of poker profit. OK. Here is it, as succinctly as I can put it: "Stop trying so hard."

OVERPLAYING THE GAME

In my experience, most new players spend too much time trying to be deceptive. They read David Sklansky's learned texts and attempt to apply some very advanced techniques to beat some singularly primitive opponents. In other words, "They try too hard."

Frequently I am asked, "If I play as tightly as you suggest, won't my opponents figure me out? They will know that I have a big hand and they will not give me any action."

And just as frequently I answer, "You would think so wouldn't you? But, it just doesn't work that way in real life. Let me tell you the true story of Cowboy Carl and the Loose Gooses."

WHO IS COWBOY CARL?

Cowboy Carl is a real person. I have occasionally played against him in the northern United States. Carl has what can only be described as a flamboyant sense of style. Every time we have played together, Carl has been wearing a magnificent western shirt on which two royal flushes are embroidered (one above each breast pocket), a ten-gallon hat (maybe twenty or thirty gallons for all I know,) and snakeskin boots. In short, you cannot help but notice Cowboy Carl. He sticks out in a crowd. It's like there is a rodeo parade float sitting in seat three. If you were going to notice anybody, you would notice Carl.

His playing style, however, is not nearly as flamboyant. In fact, Carl may be the tightest player that I have ever seen in a low-limit game. To speculate, I would guess that Carl limits himself to A-A, K-K, Q-Q, J-J, T-T, A-K, and A-Q. If I am right, Carl is playing 62/1326 hands or about one hand every two laps of the button. Assuming thirty hands an hour, Carl plays about 1.5 hands per hour (excluding his un-raised big blind). The point is this: if ever there was a super tight player that the bad players would notice, it would be Carl. It would be impossible not to notice how many hands Carl folds because it is impossible not to notice Carl.

NOBODY IS PAYING ATTENTION

Yet, Carl gets all kinds of action on his good hands. After two hours of folding hands, Carl is under the gun and announces: "Raise." Five players call Carl's raise. The flop is K-x-x of mixed suits and a betting frenzy breaks out. Carl bets out, gets raised, and Carl re-raises. And so it goes until the river when Carl turns over K-K for a set of kings and takes down the pot. Carl had folded almost every hand for two hours and then he suddenly went nuts betting and raising! The poor players at the table had never noticed Carl folding hand after hand. As a result, they didn't know that Carl would only re-re-raise with A-A or K-K in this situation. The bad players not only gave Carl action on his good hand, they raised him several times!

I mean, here was a player who practically had a sign above his head reading, "I am a super tight player don't give me any action" and nobody seemed to notice. Weird. After three hours of this, I actually leaned over to Carl and asked him: "Doesn't it amaze you that anyone ever calls you?" Carl nodded and said something prophetic: "You know, it's the same everywhere I play."

CONCLUSION

The point is a simple one. Against little-skilled, low-limit opponents, you do not have to be deceptive because they are not paying attention anyway. Moreover, even if they are paying attention, they probably do not care what you have! They came to play cards and gamble. They are not going to throw away a hand like K-Jo just because you raised. They will be thinking, "Any two cards can win," as they throw in bet after bet.

Look at it another way. You are not going to win much money from good players. You are going to win your money from the bad players. And since bad players are not paying attention anyway, why try fooling them?

So, especially when you are starting out, "Stop trying so hard." Master the fundamentals of the game. You will, eventually, have to add some deceptive elements to your game, but you do not need to add them at low limits against little-skilled opponents. And, it's the same everywhere you go.

One thing that great players always do

2007-02-04T23:42:00.000-08:00

One thing that great players always do
By Dave Scharf

Introduction
After making a small in-the-money finish in a preliminary event at the 2001 WSOP I returned home. I was happy with my small payday but I was shaken by that fact that near the end of the tournament, surrounded by players like Phil Hellmuth, TJ Cloutier, Lane Flack, and a host of others, I was in over my head. It was clear that I was "not in Kansas anymore." I felt like I had been outplayed late in the tournament and that feeling bothered me.

When I got home to Canada a local player sneeringly asked me, "What do those guys know that we don't know?"

"I'm not sure," I replied. "But I am certain that they know a lot more about this game than I do And, I am going to press on with the journey."

Those few hands, late in the 2001 WSOP $2,000 no-limit event, still drive me to improve my game. Most importantly, they left me with a deep feeling that I can learn a lot about my own game from a single hand of poker but that I cannot learn much about my opponent. I will try to explain.

Judging someone else's play
I played the British Columbia Poker Championship, November 23-26, 2006 at the River Rock Casino and Resort in Richmond, B.C. While there I got involved in a conversation on the rail that has been floating around inside my head ever since. At the time I was not able to articulate myself particularly well. In this article, I will try to elucidate my point of view about professional players and the pitfalls of analyzing their play - or anyone's play - out of context.

The conversation in B.C. was regarding a young Canadian pro who although virtually unknown on the tournament circuit is well enough established that he has been sponsored by a major online site. I will refer to this pro as, "Jesse." On the rail, over a couple of late night glasses, I was asked, "What do you think of Jesse's play?"

"I don't really have an opinion," I replied. "I do not know him and I have never played against him."

"Well," my colleague responded, "I don't think much of his play and I will tell you why..." He then proceeded to tell me of a single hand which he felt was adequate to indicate that Jesse wasn't "all he is cracked up to be."

The hand in question
Early in the tournament, Jesse had 5,000 chips and his opponent had 2,500. The blinds were 100-200 and there was no ante. Before the flop Jesse made it 600. His opponent, the big blind, called making 1,300 chips in the pot. The flop was Q-7-3, the Q and 3 were both hearts, and Jesse's opponent bet 800, leaving him with only 1,100 behind. Jesse, with Q-Q for top set, moved in; his opponent folded.

My colleague felt very strongly that moving in here was a hopeless mistake (see my article from last month Good Mistakes v. Hopeless Mistakes). There was no doubt in his mind that the right play was to flat call with Q-Q. His point was that if Jesse's opponent had a flush draw he would obviously call, so why bet? And, to my colleague's credit, he was in fact, correct. Jesse should have called. But, we only know that in hindsight. The perfect play was to call. Jesse's raise caused his opponent to fold which surely means that he was very weak or was bluffing - hands against which slow playing top set is perfectly appropriate. So, was raising a "good mistake" or a "hopeless mistake?"

Surely, it was not hopeless. What if Jesse's opponent held a hand like K-Qo? It is unlikely that he would be able to escape on the turn but not impossible. Speaking for myself, if I bet at a flop like Q-7-3 and a pre-flop raiser with position calls, I have a very loud alarm bell ringing in my head. Usually I am going to give him credit for a big hand (that he is slow playing) or a 12 to 15 out flush draw (A-J of hearts, for example). In this situation, if the turn is a 9 or hearts (completing the flush) I am probably going to check and fold my K-Q.

The point is that Jesse's raise might have been correct. It was, in fact, not. But, one should never analyze a hand of poker with the perfect knowledge of hindsight. Were I in Jesse's seat I would have been amazed to see my short stacked opponent fold. He faced a call of 1,100 into a pot of 4,000 and he was left with a very short stack if he folded. I would have figured him to be pot committed just as, I'm sure, Jesse did.

So what does this hand tell us?
Interestingly, if Jesse's play had been a "hopeless mistake" I think it would be fair to seriously question the overall strength of his game - great players just don't make hopeless mistakes. If you agree with my analysis, though, you will note that this hand was not hopeless. So, what does it tell us about Jesse? The answer: nothing. Unless you see a hopeless mistake, a single hand tells you very little about any given opponent.

If you have watched any of the top players in the world on TV you will have seen them make plays that, at face value, appear odd. Certainly, you have seen them make plays that are not in any of the introductory poker tomes you may have read. Are they weak players? No. So, be careful what you think about your opponent based upon a single hand.

What is one thing that great players always do?
Great players always have a reason for their action. In other words, there is something that they perceive - a tell, a style, an opportunity - that compels them to bet, raise, call, check, or fold. Furthermore, it is often this hidden reason that makes the great players' look bizarre. The new player, without the same depth of understanding of these top players, does not understand why the pro made the play that he did. And, sometimes, writes his opponent off as "not very good" when, in fact, the exact opposite is true - the pros' play is so advanced that the new player does not even perceive some of the factors that have played into the decision.

In your game (and mine) the challenge is twofold:

(1) Always have a reason for your play - never let your focus drift; and
(2) When confronted by a play that you do not at first understand from a player that you believe is skilled and dangerous, figure out why he did what he did.

Increasing your focus will instantly improve your results. No waiting. If you always have a compelling reason for every action at the poker table - call, bet, raise, check, or fold - will instantly affect your bottom line. I know that I frequently make automatic plays that have become a habit and do not have a compelling reason for following that course in the current hand.

Taking a lot more time in post-game analysis will lead you to some startling revelations. You do not understand this game as well as you can. Drive yourself to learn. Drive yourself to understand why that top pro made the choice that he did.

Jesse, I'm sure, had some compelling reasons to move in with his Q-Q. He was wrong, this time. But, poker in played in the long term. Be careful about writing off an opponent simply because you witness a single mistake in a single hand.

Good Mistakes v. Hopeless Mistakes

2007-02-04T23:39:00.000-08:00

Good Mistakes v. Hopeless Mistakes
By Dave Scharf

In poker, what is a mistake?

I am drawn to Barry Greenstein's definition of "Perfect play" and "Correct play" in Ace on the River:

Perfect Play: The play that would have been made at each stage of a hand if the opponents' hole cards had been known.

Correct Play: Given the information available at the time, the play that yields the best average result.

I find this a useful tool in post-game analysis. First, ask yourself "Should I have been able to make the 'correct play?'" And then, for fun, examine what the perfect play was and ask yourself if it was attainable (it rarely is, by the way).

So, using these definitions, we can identify plays that are, in fact, mistakes. We can go hunting for the screw-ups that waste our money. But, the title of this article is Good Mistakes v. Hopeless Mistakes. That is to say, I think there are some plays which are hopeless - there is no reason for you to make them. And, there are good mistakes - plays which are neither perfect nor correct but which are excusable because you had some compelling reasons for making them.

You will never eliminate good mistakes from your game. That's the nature of poker, a game of incomplete information. Sometimes, despite all of your analysis, you will be wrong. On the other hand, you can eliminate hopeless mistakes.

I will give you an example of each kind of mistake. Both are taken from the recent Holiday Bonus Tournament at the Commerce Casino, Event #1, November 3, 2006.

An example of a good mistake
Sadly, this first example comes from my own play. In the middle stages of the tournament I called a big all-in bet from an opponent. I had a very weak A-Ts and he had a Q-Q. Oops. I called and lost over half of my stack which put me a little below average for the field. I did have, I thought, some compelling reasons to make the call.
There were 11 tables left (from a starting field of 596). The average stack was 13,600 and I was sitting on a stack of 31,000. There is a rhythm to poker that goes, "I know what you know and I know that you know that I know what you know..." and so on. If you have a better grasp of your opponent than he has of you, you have an edge.

There were two young players at my table who openly identified themselves as pros in their table conversation. I will call them YP#1 and YP#2. I had been playing with YP#1 for a while when YP#2 got moved to the table. They immediately starting chatting and carrying on in a way that is typical of the bravado of youth armed with big stacks (which they both were). I felt that I had YP#1 set up for a re-steal as I had been playing snug, I had him two seats to my right, and I was pleased to see him focus his attention on the conversation with his friend. Then, this hand came down...

YP#1 raised. I was on the button with T-9o and re-raised looking to take it right there. He had been too active from late position and I felt I would pick up a simple re-steal. Nope. YP#1 called and the two of us saw a flop of J-7-2. He checked and I bet 3/4 of the pot. I don't recall the amounts but losing the hand would certainly have crippled either of us. YP#1 went into the tank for a long time. Eventually, he folded. Phew. But, he was clearly demoralized from losing a lot of chips to me and I think he was suspicious. More importantly, the dynamic of the table changed (it often does after a confrontational hand). Then, this hand...

I raised under-the-gun with A-Qo. YP#2, two seats to my left went into the tank. Not once but twice he made a very slight motion with his hand that held his cards to flick them into the muck. I felt it was genuine and I was willing to put him on a marginal implied odds hand (small pair or suited connectors). Then, out of the blue, he raised! My first thought was that he was setting me up. But I reflected on his earlier action and I concluded that I should go with my first instinct, which was that he was in a genuine quandary. So, I decided to add to his quandary and I moved all-in. After talking some smack, he folded. Again, the table dynamic changed. YP#1 and YP#2 looked, to me, like they had "had enough." It seemed to me that they both were very suspicious as to the quality of my holdings (rightly so). Then, the mistake...

The under-the-gun player limped. I felt he was a predictable player - limp weak hands and raise strong hands. I was in the cutoff with A-Ts and felt that there was a good chance that I had the best hand, could win it pre-flop, or could play post-flop in position against a predictable player. I raised. YP#2 in the big blind moved all in. The limper folded and the action was back on me. Although I can't remember the precise stack sizes I do know that it was a huge confrontation. I figured that he knew the limper was weak and predictable, and he thought that I was an action-monkey who might have just about anything. The previous two hands and the dynamic of the table played heavily into my decision. Also, I felt that there was no way he would play A-A in this way. I felt certain that he wanted to win the pot right there and I thought there was a very good chance that he was really weak. I called. He showed Q-Q and I lost a big pot on a terrible call.

The point, though, is that I did have some reasons for making the call. And, I might have been right. As it turns out I was wrong. Badly wrong. So, back to Greenstein's definitions, I made neither a perfect play nor even a correct play. I made a disastrous play. But, it was a "good mistake" because I did have some reasons (however imagined and false) and I could have been right.

An example of a hopeless mistake
Fortunately, this mistake was not mine. This mistake belongs to an experienced tournament player with lifetime tournament money close to $500,000 who I will call FP (for fancy play).
In the hand in question, FP held A-Qo. He was the big blind for $6,000. In late position, ABC limped in - another predictable player who tended to limp weak hands and raise strong hands. ABC was the chip leader. FP checked his option. The flop was Q-9-3 rainbow, an awesome flop for FP (top pair top kicker). He checked. ABC checked. I am pretty sure that FP winced inside. The turn was a king, making the board K-Q-9-3 rainbow. FP checked again. ABC bet $20,000 into the $15,000 pot. Now FP check-raised all in for a total of $500,000. Huh? He check raised $500,000 into a pot of $35,000.

It seems a situation in which it is impossible for ABC to call unless he can beat FP's measly second pair. This means that, as a value bet, $500,000 is pure folly. Was he hoping that ABC would fold a worse hand and thus eliminate any chance of ABC drawing out? Maybe. But, if this is the case then $500,000 is much too large. A considerably smaller bet would have accomplished the task without risking his tournament life. Was he bluffing - hoping that ABC would fold a better hand? Maybe, but if he was then he should have been willing to make the same play with a total blank like 7-2o. In other words, if moving in with A-Qo is a profitable play, so will moving in with a pure bluff. Alternatively, if he was bluffing he should have risked less. And, since ABC was a predictable player FP should have known that his bet on the turn meant that he had something. Indeed, the way the hand played, J-To was a very possible holding for ABC. In any event, ABC called and showed K-To for top pair and the winner. Note that ABC's willingness to call this huge bet with a hand as weak as he did further indicated ABC's folly.

Obviously, FP's play was neither perfect nor correct. But, more importantly, it was a hopeless mistake because one cannot imagine what compelling reasons there could have been for making it. Note, his error was not his check-raise itself; it was the size of the bet. FP was over-betting the pot, risking tens of thousands of dollars in prize money, on a very weak hand against a player who is not the sort of player who ever folds. It was a hopeless mistake as a value bet, protection bet, or bluff.

Conclusion
I make mistakes every single time I play. Goofy ideas, fools' gambits, and lousy calls litter my game. I try, however, to make sure that at the very least, I might be making a good play. As a final consideration, just before moving your chips, make sure that you have some good reasons for calling, betting, or raising.
If you are like me, you can be certain that you will continue to make horrible calls and bad bluffs. But, eliminate the truly hopeless plays from your arsenal and you will see immediate improvement on the bottom line.

Part III - How Much Does Math Matter?

2007-02-04T23:32:00.000-08:00

Part III - How Much Does Math Matter?
By Dave Scharf

This is the third of three columns that I have audaciously titled "Poker Made Simple." In truth, I think that this series demonstrates that poker is simple on the surface and, underneath the still waters, very complex. The basic question is always simple: "Should I raise, call, bet, or fold?" The questions you might consider to answer this simple question are very numerous and difficult.

In the first instalment in this series I explained a simple truth about poker: math defines the most profitable play you can make in a given situation if you know all the variables. In the second part I showed that the only variables that really matter are: what's he got and what will he do with it? You know your cards and you know the board cards. The only things you don't know are your opponents' cards and how they will play them. Any question you may ask yourself (e.g. Is my opponent drunk?) is simply an angle of attack on what you really want to know: what's he got and what will he do with it? Good poker players are able to accurately put their opponent on a hand, understand how the opponent will play, and understand the math of the situation in which they find themselves.

Let's look at a couple of examples that will illustrate how much math matters. Note that I have somewhat simplified the following examples - in part to make it easier to understand the point and in part because a thorough mathematical exam is beyond the scope of this article (not to mention my abilities).

Check, Bet, Call, Raise, or Fold?

The game is $10-20 limit hold'em. You and one lone opponent remain. The pot is $95. You have 5-4 and the board is K-Q-8-7.. Your opponent has been betting into you the whole way. You have played with him frequently and you know with some certainty that when this opponent bets he has at least top pair, which he will not fold unless the board gets really dicey. In other words, you have defined the variables you are interested in: what's he got (at least top pair) and what will he do with it (bet and call if you raise). You can rule out the possibility that he has a bigger flush draw - no hand that is a bigger flush draw would have been "at least top pair" on the flop. So, you know with near certainty that you have at least 10 outs and probably 12 outs. If your opponent already has three-of-a-kind then the 8§ or 7§ are no good to you because either card will make your opponent a full house or quads - you have ten outs (the remaining clubs or any six). If your opponent has A-K then you will have 12 outs (any club or any six). What is the correct play?

Let's look at each option and the mathematical consequences. For simplicity we will assume the more modest assumption that you have ten outs:

Folding. Ignoring what you have lost so far on the hand, if you fold you will neither win money, nor lose money. Your total is $0.

Calling. Your opponent bets the turn. You must call $20 in order to have a chance at winning $115 (the original $95 in the pot plus his bet of $20). With 10 outs you will make your hand 22 percent of the time (10 out of the 46 cards). If you play 100 hands then 78 times you will lose (call $20 on the turn and then fold the river when you miss). Your total loss will be $1560. You will win the other 22 hands - for $135 per hand (the original $95 plus $20 from your opponent on the turn and $20 on the river - it could be $40 on the river, but we will again make the more modest assumption). Your net for the 22 hands you win be $2970. Finally your net profit over 100 hands will be $1410 or $14.10 per hand.

Raising. Your opponent bets the turn. This time instead of calling $20 you raise to $40. He will call (he rarely folds top pair). You still have ten outs and you still will make your hand 22 percent of the time. Once again, if you play 100 hands then 78 times you will lose. Your total loss will be $3120. You will win the other 22 hands - for $155 per hand (original $95 plus $40 on the turn and $20 on the river). You net for the 22 winning hands will be $3410. Finally your net profit will be plus $290 or $2.90 per hand.

Obviously, your best option is to call and then bet or raise on the river. On the turn, folding is break even, raising is slightly profitable, and calling is the most profitable. This example illustrates what I preach as the basic low-limit poker strategy: bet with the best, good draw to invest, fold all the rest. At low-limit poker you should generally bet or raise when you have reason to believe you have the best hand and call when you have a good draw.

A More Interesting Example

Is it that simple though? Is it enough to understand basic pot odds? Well, it depends. If you want to play profitably at low and mid-limit poker a rudimentary understanding of pot odds is all that is required. You can, however, go to a much higher level of understanding.

It is a no-limit hold'em tournament. The blinds are $50 and $100. You are the big-blind. It is folded all the way around to the small- blind who makes it $300 to go. You started the hand with $1000 (you have $900 left after posting your blind). You look at your cards and see 7-2 offsuit. Obvious fold right? Wait. Not so fast! Pause for a second. Give it some thought. What are the variables? What's he got and what will he do with it? Suppose, for example that you have a good handle on this opponent (you have him in a box) and you are reasonably certain that he will raise in this situation with any ace, any pair, and any two cards that are both ten or better. Also, you are also reasonably certain that he will only call a re-raise to $1000 with A-A, K-K, Q-Q, J-J, A-K, or A-Q.

Suppose you re-raise all-in. When you do, he will fold 85 percent of the time. If you play 100 hands you will win 85 without seeing a flop for a total profit of $34,000 (his $300 plus your big-blind of $100 85 times). If he calls then you know he has the smaller range of hands listed above. Against this smaller range of hands 7-2 offsuit will win just 23% of the time. So, of the remaining 15 hands you will win about 3.5 of them (profit of $3,850) and lose 11.5 of them (loss of $10,350). Thus, in the situation described if you re-raise all-in you will net $27,500 or $275 per hand. Surprised? Note that I have not considered the considerably more complicated option of simply calling his $300 bet pre-flop. You get into a big variety of situations if you start working out the possibilities post-flop. Nor have I considered the consequences of being knocked out of the tournament (which you will be 11.5 percent of the time that you try this play).

The point, however, is that once you are good at putting your opponents on hands and knowing what they will do with them, a thorough understanding of the math of the situation you find yourself in will show you the most profitable path. Even 7-2 offsuit is a profitable hand in the right situation. Believe me when I tell you that every single world class player has, at the very least, a strong intuitive feeling for the math of any given situation. He may not have thought of this specific situation, but he has thought of one quite similar and he has a great depth of understanding to draw upon in making the decision this time.

Conclusion

I do not pretend that this series will, by itself, make you into a great poker player. Indeed, only you can make you into a great poker player with sufficient study and practice. What this series of articles does do is show you one way of approaching your study. When I am asked a poker question I first pause to consider what I am being asked. Is it a math question or a psychology question? Is it about defining the variables (what's he got and what will he do with it?) or is it about the most profitable course to take if you know the variables?

Part II - How Much Does Math Matter?

2007-02-04T23:30:00.000-08:00

Part II - How Much Does Math Matter?
By Dave Scharf
This is the second of three columns that I have audaciously titled "Poker Made Simple." In truth, I think that this series demonstrates that poker is simple on the surface and, underneath the still waters, very complex. The basic question is always simple: "Should I raise, call, bet, or fold?" The questions you might consider to answer this simple question are very numerous and difficult.

What are the Variables?

In the first instalment in this series I explained a simple truth about poker: math defines the most profitable play you can make in a given situation if you know all the variables. So, forgetting about math for a moment, what are the variables? What questions could you consider when deciding to answer the simple basic question: "Should I raise, call, bet, or fold?" Off the top of my head I came up with a short list of twenty, the answers to which might affect the outcome of a poker hand:

How many opponents am I facing?
What are my cards?
What is the best possible hand?
How likely am I to have the best hand?
Has the player in seat three been drinking?
Have I been drinking?
How long has the player in seat seven been playing?
How long have I been playing?
Is the player in seat six playing a higher limit than she is accustomed to?
Who won the last pot?
How many cups of coffee has the player in seat nine had?
What does the tattoo on the forearm of the player in seat ten mean?
What cards are on the flop?
Does the player in seat four have more money in his wallet or is it all on the table?
What does my opponent think I have?
Are the players in seats one and two married to each other?
Did the dealer flash a card?
Does the player in seat four think "kings are running?"
Is the player in seat five angry at the player in seat nine?
How much will my hotel room cost me tonight?

You might think that some of these questions could not possibly affect the outcome of a poker hand. Obviously, some are more important than others, but any one of them could be important. How much will my room cost me tonight? If I have my last $200 on the table and my room costs $150 then I better not lose more than another $50 before I quit. If that is the case then it may well affect what cards I choose to play. If I am scared of losing then I will probably play tighter than I otherwise would. Is the player in seat three drunk? Generally, when a player is drunk he plays looser than usual. Herein lays the clue as to why these questions could be important. How does anything - position, number of opponents, sobriety, anything - affect what cards your opponent will play and how he will play them. All of the questions that could affect the outcome of a hand of poker do so because they may alter the cards that you will play or that your opponents will play. Also, they may alter how you and your opponents will play them.

What's He Got and What Will He Do With It?

Back to the original hypothesis for a moment: math defines the most profitable play you can make in a given situation if you know all the variables. Since you know what your cards are and you know what the board cards are, the only variables you are interested in are:

What are my opponent's cards?

How will he play them?

What's he got and what will he do with it? If you have multiple opponents then you are asking yourself what each of them has and how each of them will play?

Poker really is simple. What do I have, what does he have, and what will he do with it?

The basic way in which you put your opponent on a hand (what's he got?) is to estimate the range of hands that he will start with and then narrow the range based on the betting as the hand progresses. I describe it as "putting your opponent in a box." As the hand progresses you make the box smaller and smaller until you know within a very small range what your opponent is holding - you have him in a very small box. This skill takes a certain natural aptitude and a great deal of practice. You must learn to trust yourself. The easiest and cheapest way to practice is to predict what cards your opponents are holding after you have folded. You are sitting at the table anyway; make use of the time and practice figuring out "what's he got?" Observe the hand, shrink the box, and check your results at the showdown.

Along with figuring out what your opponents have, you must figure out how they play. Some players, for instance, will always bet a flush draw while others will always check-and-call with a four-flush. Some players will never fold top pair in hold'em; others will routinely fold top pair if confronted with a lot of aggression. Some players will raise once with top pair; other players will three-bet or cap the betting with top pair. It is impossible to separate "what's he got" from "what will he do with it." It is you knowledge of his starting hand range, coupled with his betting pattern that allows you to "shrink the box."

The Difference Between World Class Players and the Rest of Us

Not long ago a local player asked me: "What do those guys know that we don't know." The "those guys" he was referring to are the players that he is regularly seeing on TV: Howard Lederer, Paul Phillips, Gus Hansen, Phil Ivey, TJ Cloutier, Chris Ferguson, Phil Hellmuth, Erik Seidel, Johnny Chan, etc. Once again, go back to the original hypothesis: math defines the most profitable play you can make in a given situation if you know all the variables. What "those guys" do better than your average middle-limit Vegas pro or low-limit local fish is accurately define the variables. What "those guys" do is accurately put their opponents into very small boxes and then apply the right tools (raise, call, bet, or fold) to crush the box in question.

Simple. To improve your results all you have to do is to improve your ability to answer this question: "What's he got and what will he do with it?" Then having learned to accurately define the variables, you must improve your understanding of the situation in which you find yourself. I frequently overhear conversations in which little-skilled low-limit players criticize what appears to them as poor play on the part of the world-class World Poker Tour players. In almost every case, the criticism is wrong. It is mistaken because the little-skilled low-limit player in question does not understand the situation in which the world-class player finds himself. What looks to him to be a bad play is, in fact, the correct tool being applied to a very small box.

In the third and final instalment I will explain what I mean by "math defines the most profitable play." In any event, if you are looking to improve your results you can work on the accuracy with which you define the variables.

Poker Made Simple: Part I - How Much Does Math Matter?

2007-02-04T23:29:00.000-08:00

Poker Made Simple: Part I - How Much Does Math Matter?
By Dave Scharf

This is the first of three columns that I have audaciously titled "Poker Made Simple." In truth, I think that this column and the next two will demonstrate how complex poker is. The basic question is always simple: "Should I raise, call, bet, or fold?" The means to the answer may involve a great deal of complexity.

Math or Psychology?

The uninitiated often hold one of two views about poker. They either think that "it's all math" or that "it's all bluffing." The math school will often ask questions like: "Isn't it hard to calculate the odds?" The bluffing school will often ask: "How do you keep a poker face? I always give away my hand." Whereas neither school is correct, these two extremes are an excellent illustration of the dual nature of poker. The truth is that poker as a mix of math and psychology - a mix of science and art. In poker, math defines the most profitable play you can make in a given situation if you know all the variables. But poker is not exclusively a game of math because you do not know all the variables - you do not know, for instance, your opponents' cards or whether the players to act behind you will call, raise, or fold. Thus, in poker, psychology is the skill of accurately guessing at the information you do not know for a fact.

Poker books and literature are, generally, an attempt at an approximate balance of math and psychology. The writers are often attempting to teach you a strategy that will make you into a profitable player. For instance, when a poker writer instructs you to play K-J offsuit in late position in a hold'em game if there is no raise, what he or she is saying is: "Based upon certain psychological assumptions that I am making because of my research and experience, I believe that K-Jo is a mathematically profitable hand when you can enter the pot in late position for a single bet." In other words, a lot of poker literature makes a lot of assumptions about your opponents - specifically about their starting hands and style of play. At low-limits these assumptions are close enough to dead-on that there are many poker books which will teach you the basics quickly and accurately. The books are, however, approximations.

How Does It Work In The Heat Of Combat?
Let me give you an extreme example that will illustrate the interplay of math and psychology. It is the World Series of Poker Championship - the game, of course, is no-limit hold'em. You can bet all of your chips in a single wager if you like. You have played well for five days and been lucky when you needed to be. Now there are only two players left - you and your opponent Phil Hellmuth. You each have the same number of chips. Phil offers to make a deal but you are feeling cocky and say: "No way. Put 'em in the air." Phil is the button (the small-blind when heads up) and he shoves all-in. You look at your hole cards and discover A-T offsuit. Do you call? Do you want to play A-To for all your chips and the WSOP Championship on the line?

This is, of course, a hypothetical question. Speaking for myself, I can assure you that if I ever do wind up in a heads-up duel with Phil Hellmuth at the final table at the WSOP Championship I will not be able to say: "No way. Put 'em in the air." All I am likely to manage is: "Mommy, help me." Nonetheless, this question serves to illustrate the relationship of math and psychology to poker. Is this a math question or a psychology question? If Phil has a random hand (he has shoved all-in without looking at his cards) then A-To is a 62.722 percent favorite to win. You call. Unfortunately, it is not that simple. It is not a pure math question because Phil does not have a random hand. He has looked at his cards. He has chosen to push all-in with the cards that he has (this assumes that there are some cards he will not push all-in with). You are not up against a random hand; you are up against a hand that Phil thinks is worth an all-in bet in this situation.

Now to make a determination of whether or not you should call you must take a guess at the possible hands Phil holds - the range of hands with which he will make this all-in bet with. What cards would Phil hold to make a huge all-in play with? There is the psychology part of poker. You think about a few things you know. First, Phil is one of the finest players in the world - he is not making some ridiculous amateur mistake by pushing all-in. Furthermore, he has played very few hands this aggressively over the last hour. And finally, you know that Phil wants to regain the WSOP more than anything. It seems very doubtful that he is risking all of his chips on a marginal hand. You conclude therefore that Phil has A-A or K-K. Against that range of hands, A-To will win just 16.2 percent of the time. You fold.

The Best Players Do Both

Admittedly this example is extreme. The point, however, remains valid. To become a truly skilled poker fox you will have to be very good at both the math and the psychology of poker. You probably know opponents who are good at one or the other. There are players who can rattle off odds and statistics but rarely go home winners because they simply cannot turn their knowledge into a winning style Then, there are players who understand their opponents but insist on gambling with inferior cards and thus, they cannot win.

To become a great player you will have to go beyond the existing poker literature. You will have to understand psychology and math. You will have to know how your opponents are thinking and feeling at every moment. You must have a handle on the kinds of cards they are apt to play and how they will play them. Will this opponent tenaciously hold onto top pair no matter how much aggression you show? Will this opponent routinely fold second pair? In short, you will have to "put your opponents in a box." The psychological tools you employ will define the parameters of that box. The best players - the world-class players - are able to very accurately put their opponents into very small boxes.
Once you have a good handle on your opponents you will need to understand the math of poker well enough to know the best play to make. Should you raise, call, or fold? The answer will depend upon knowing all of the variables for the specific situation you find yourself in. Using psychology you have defined the variables. Math will tell you the right play to make.

In my next column I shall explain the steps that I go through to define the variables. It is not as difficult as it seems. Then, in the concluding column I shall show you how to sort out the math for the situation as you have defined it and make the best play.

Have a Plan

2007-02-04T23:26:00.000-08:00

Have a Plan
By Dave Scharf

Navigating a warship
Long ago I was a navigating officer in the navy. The bulk of work in navigating a warship is done prior to going to sea. The Nav O makes a very thorough plan. The "Nav Plan" is drawn on charts (maps of the sea) and any information which is, or might be important is noted in the Nav O's notebook - tides and currents, sunrise and sunset, expected traffic, and so on. The Captain approves the plan and the ship sails.
If everything goes accordingly, there is an uneventful passage and the ship arrives at her new port. Of course things rarely go "according to plan." In reality, the precise route taken will often be different than originally planned. You can, however, be certain that there will be compelling reasons for any alterations made en route - changes are not made willy-nilly. Perhaps an unpredicted fog will close in over the planned route and a longer, safer course will need to be adopted. Perhaps there will be an iceberg in the path, or enemy vessels, or whatever you can imagine. Whatever the actual route taken, the method is the same: Make a thorough plan in advance and then adapt as required by the circumstances. And, of course, it's the same with poker.

Your poker plan
Are you one of the (expected) 8,000 players about to take part in the World Series of Poker Championship event? Do you have a plan? Have you done as much work as possible in advance of going to sea? You're not playing in the WSOP? What about your trip, tonight, to your local $5-10 game? Have you made a plan? Like navigating a warship, you should do as much work in advance as you possibly can.
Your plan should be suited to your unique level of ability. Your plan should address your unique leaks and strong points. Make a plan that works for you.

If you are just starting out, planning to rigidly follow the starting hand guide from your favorite hold'em book is probably all that you can manage. That's fine. That's a plan. Follow the guide, play as well as you can post-flop, and then study your results before your next session in order to improve your play.

If you are an intermediate player who is just entering the WSOP for the first time I suggest a much more advanced plan. Make a thorough plan before you set sail.

I have just finished up my 2006 WSOP Championship plan. I know that one of my strengths is that I have a good idea of how to take advantage of rocks. On the other hand, I know that one of my weaknesses is that I tend to "overplay the game" and that I too often depart from solid, fundamental poker. My plan needs to address these (and other) issues. My written plan (yes, you should write it all down) includes:

My starting hands, by position, for four different gears;
A guide for when I should consider changing gear;
Certain traps that I am planning, in advance, to spring;
A randomization method based on my cards for varying the amount of my initial bet if I am the first one into the pot;
A guide for what to do if there are players already in the pot;
A guide for what do with hyper-aggressive players on my right and on my left;
A randomization method based upon my cards for blind stealing from tight opponents; and
Advice on pot management, tells, psychology, and about a dozen other notes to myself.
Why bother?
Poker is poker, isn't it? Why bother with a specific plan? Isn't it good enough to simply plan to play as well as you can? For some, I suppose; for most, not.
Have you ever played with a hyper-aggressive player like Gus Hansen or Annie Duke on your right? On your left? Have you ever played with a cunning player who is willing to call your raises with a wide range of hands like Daniel Negreanu on your left? Have you ever played poker with a migraine? Have you ever played poker when your blood sugar is too low? If you have, then perhaps you don't need a plan - perhaps you are experienced enough to know how to deal with most any situation. If you have not experienced these situations before then why not make a thorough plan in advance. Like navigating a ship, the more work you do preparing for the journey, the less work you will have to do while you are on the journey.

The big advantage to a thorough plan is that it will liberate you to concentrate on the game at hand. You will not have to think about how to deal with Gus on your right - you have already determined how you are going to sort him out should the situation arise (I note that I do not expect you to prepare for every opponent - prepare for three or four styles of opponent). You don't need to sit with your migraine until the next break because you planned for this and you have Advil Gel Caps in your pocket. And, you are watching what you eat all the while you are in Vegas so as to avoid blood sugar problems. All of your advance preparation will maximize the chance that you will keep your leaks plugged, your strengths at the fore, and mind free to focus on your opponents which is where your attention should be.

Adapt as you go
Will I dogmatically follow my plan for the entire WSOP Championship? No. But, just like navigating a warship, I will have some compelling reasons to alter the plan if I choose to. And, those reasons will almost certainly depend upon how I perceive my opponents' state of mind and ability.

Suppose, for example, that a short stacked player that I know to be desperate has moved all in on my right. I have A-Jo. The Plan calls for me fold this hand facing a raise. But, in this case, it's a small raise, I know that my opponent holds a wide range of hands, and I am on the button. In this case, perhaps, I should re-raise to knock out the blinds and add some dead money to the pot while I take my chances heads up against the all-in player. In other words, "the plan" is for a generic WSOP Championship field. It will be altered according to the specific players I am facing on any given hand.

The big advantage to making and committing yourself to a concrete plan is that it will free you to relax and play the tournament to the best of your ability. Make as many decisions as you can before the tournament starts. This will give you more brain-space to spend on looking for changes to your plan "on the fly."

Making Good Decisions

2007-02-04T23:24:00.000-08:00

Making Good Decisions
By Dave Scharf

Introduction

The human animal is a wonderfully complex creature. Although you may like to think that you are completely in control of yourself at all times, you are not. There are countless psychological studies that show, if nothing else, that the operation of your brain is not nearly as simple and direct as you perceive. What does this mean to your poker game? In the heat of green-felt-battle you need simplicity. You need to balance thorough analysis against playability. You need a few "tricks of the trade" that will keep your brain on the rails and your decisions simply and elegant.

Lately I have been giving some thought to the power of visualization and suggestion. In particular, I am motivated by many psychological studies demonstrating that people who are instructed to nod their heads while listening to a speech are much more likely to agree with the speaker than those who are instructed to shake their heads while listening. Amazing isn't it? The nodding comes first. Nod your head and you are more likely to agree. How can you apply this to your poker game? How have I applied it to mine?

Get a good start
Do you have an algorithm that you use in the play of a poker hand? I have tried for years to develop a functional algorithm that I can use on every street of every hand. I have had mixed results. When played at a high level, against difficult opponents, poker requires some creativity. Most algorithms squash creativity and leave one open to exploitation by skilled opponents. At least, most algorithms that I can hold in my inadequate human brain do. I am not capable of running algorithms as complicated as the modern PC. I require simplicity.

I have had a variety of algorithms and "five-finger checklists" in my poker career. In preparing for the 2006 WSOP I have struck upon one simple question that has improved my game. "Where is the opportunity?"

Where is the opportunity?
This is my version of head nodding. In other words, this is my attempt to start my brain heading in the correct direction. Instead of worrying about the specifics of position, my hand, the pot size, etc, I simply ask myself, "Where is the opportunity in this hand?" This is nothing other than a psychological trick I use to start my thinking along the correct path. Just as nodding tends to make one agreeable I hope that actively looking for opportunities will help me be patient and thorough in my analysis of the situation. Let me give you some examples.

It is the first hand of the 2006 WSOP Championship. Blinds are $25-50 and I have $10,000 in front of me. I am dealt A-A. I ask myself, "Where is the opportunity with A-A?" When the chips are deep, and they are very deep at the start of the WSOP $10K event, it is often hard to win a big pot with A-A. If a lot of money goes in after the flop there is a very good chance that A-A is no longer the best hand. To my mind, A-A has two opportunities in the early stages of the WSOP: (1) Engineer a big pre-flop confrontation (one of your opponents will hold K-K almost 5% of the time) when you know you have the best hand; or (2) Limp in and hide the real strength of your hand. Remember, though, that if you limp in you must tread carefully since and unimproved A-A is not likely to be the best hand post-flop if there is heavy action.

By asking, "Where is the opportunity?" I have defined how I want to play the hand - angle for a big pre-flop confrontation or play cautiously post-flop. This simple question helps me to focus on what I want to do. By starting in the right direction I hope to avoid the catastrophe of calling big bets post-flop by falling in love with my A-A. It's easy to do and a lot of players go bust with A-A in the early stages of the WSOP $10K event. If I do I want to make sure it's because I get outdrawn not because I play into my opponent's implied odds opportunity. Let's look at another example.

Later in the tournament I am dealt 8-6s on the button. I still have my starting stack of $10,000. The blinds are $100-200. Another player with $10,000 has opened to $500. Where is the opportunity? There are two immediate possibilities: (1) A pre-flop steal; or (2) An implied odds call. In the case of a pre-flop steal this will only be an opportunity if you know that the initial raiser has a wide range of opening hands yet a small range of hands with which he will call a re-raise (Sklansky's Gap concept). If he has a big gap then I will consider raising to $2,000 and attempting to take the pot right now. In the case of a pre-flop, implied-odds call this will only be an opportunity if this opponent is willing to lose all of his chips with top pair or an over-pair. Or, he is the kind of player who is easily bluffed post-flop. If either of these criterions is met then simply calling with my 8-6s may represent an opportunity. If the conditions are not favorable - for example, this opponent is unbluffable or not prone to pay off with a hand like top pair - then there is no opportunity in this hand and I fold.

Simply asking, "Where is the opportunity?" keeps me from getting off track. If my thinking shifts to, "that guy in seat three has raised every hand, I am going to get him" then I tend to force the action. I tend to lose patience and attempt to create opportunities instead of wait for them. If I make the first step onto solid ground I tend to stay on the right path. If I start in the march I tend to drown. It's complicated, and challenging to navigate your human brain through the complexity of a poker tournament.

Patience is a big part of successful poker. I define patience as the ability to wait for opportunities. The second part of the equation is recognizing them. And, the third part is having the balls to exploit them.

Good luck if you are playing in any WSOP events. In particular, I hope you have the good luck to be busted by me in second place on August 10.

Why do you play poker?

2007-02-04T23:22:00.000-08:00

Why do you play poker?
By Dave Scharf

Introduction
Once a month I make an appearance on the Drew Remenda Sports Show to talk poker (although Drew is the play-by-play host for the San Jose Sharks, he also has a syndicated talk radio show in Canada). Drew knows little about poker but is fascinated with what he is seeing on TV and he always has lots of great questions about tells, bluffing, psychology, and the like. It is usually a pretty "serious" discussion about poker.

On my last appearance on the show a caller asked a question which stuck with me: "What happened to playing poker for fun?" He explained that he had been playing poker with the same group of guys for several years. Poker night was always something he looked forward to. Then, at his last session, the host turned up with real poker chips, a real poker table, and really dark glasses. His question was, "Doesn't anybody just get together with a twelve-sack of beer and a deck of cards for a night out with the boys anymore?" For this caller, emulating television poker was not as fun as playing six-card-take-it-or-leave-it, hi-lo, with a pitch. And, I think he has a point. More importantly, I think that his point will make you a better poker player.

Why choose to play poker?

There are lots of good things about poker. And, there are lots of bad. A short list of the positives includes:

To be human is to feel, to emote. Few things can supply the emotional charge of poker.
If you are good at it, poker is profitable. And as that great poker philosopher David Lee Roth once said, "Money can't buy you happiness but it can buy you a big yacht on which you can pull up right beside happiness."
Poker is social. You are bound to meet some interesting people at a poker table.
Poker is a challenge. Like chess, poker is sufficiently complex that it will provide a lifelong intellectual pursuit if you want it to.

Sounds good. So why doesn't everyone participate in this Utopia here on Earth? Well, poker has its downside too:

Losing hurts. Extended losing periods really hurt. Sometimes poker makes you want to kick a cat.
If you are not good at it, poker costs money. About seventy percent of casino and internet players are losers.
Poker is social. This means that if the only seat available is beside Captain Halitosis-Body-Odor then you will have to sit beside him (unlike the movies, a resemblance to persons living or dead is intended - if you have played live at all, you know a guy like this).
Poker is hard. If you want to get good at it you are going to have to work at it.

You will note the obvious parallels that I have drawn. The simple point is that poker has a lot to offer - good and bad - but you should know what you uniquely want from the game. I can't tell you what poker will do for you. Only you know. The important thing is that you know what you want get from poker. Do you want a social evening with friends? Do you want to make a living? Do you want to supplement your fixed income in retirement without risking your savings? Poker is not only about money. It's about a lot of things and you will only measure your success if you know what you are measuring it against. You only know that you have scored a bull's-eye if you know which target that you are aiming at.

How will this affect my game?

Hearken your mind back to the beginning of this article. Why did the upset caller to the Drew Remenda show play poker? I do not think he was too concerned with wins and losses. He played to enjoy the company of friends over the competition of a poker game (plus a few beer and a couple of cigars). At the end of the night, week, or year he does not measure his success based upon how much he won or lost. Instead, he asks himself, "Did I have a good time?" Money will be included in the answer. If he is a winner, that's fun. And, if he is a loser that's OK as long as the amount does not impinge upon his day-to-day life. If the loss is too great then it will ruin his "good time." How does he measure success? At the end of the night has asks himself, "Did I have fun with friends?"

What is your measure of poker success? You will only get better at poker (or anything else) if you know what your goal is, your measure of success. What do you want out of it? Why do you play?

Chances are that if you have taken the time to visit the excellent www.PokerPages.com then you either are, or want to become, a profitable poker player. That is, you want to make money playing poker. If you lose, you will consider yourself to have failed (I note that I am ignoring any discussion about the short and long term). But, is that all there is to poker? Do you measure your success exclusively by how much money you make?

Consider two not-so-hypothetical poker players.

Meet Riley. He is a twenty-one. He started playing poker just one year ago. He plays, on average, eighty hours of online poker a week. That's a lot but he is young and single and he wants to build a big bankroll as quickly as he can. He plays six online tables at once. He is making around $5,000 a week. The means that he will make $1 million in about four years, a great start to life. How does he measure his success? Riley is 100% concerned with money. He will say things like, "July was my best month ever. I made $10,000." The more he makes right now the happier he will be.

Next meet Lou. He is forty, married, and has two wonderful children age nine and six. He has been playing poker on and off again his whole life. A year ago he was laid off from his traditional job. He decided to "go pro." He finds that playing for just thirty hours a week he is able to make the same living he made as a shipping/receiving clerk. He could play eighty hours, like Riley, and make a lot more money but what is his measure of poker success? It seems to me that if his "work week" has gotten shorter by ten hours and yet he is still making the same amount of money then he has given himself the equivalent of a raise. He has more time to spend with his three girls than he did before. He will say things like, "July was my best month ever. I didn't make a dime. I took the whole month off and spent it camping with my family." Why does Lou play poker? To make a living and part of "living" is doing the things that money allows you to indulge in.

I am not saying Riley shouldn't play fewer hours. In fact, if I were giving him advice I would tell him to play a lot less but that's just me. And, I am not saying that Lou shouldn't play a few more hours every week. In fact, maybe he wants to play eighty hours a week and ignore his family for four years so that he can give his girls a great college education. I don't know. The point is that I hope Riley, Lou, and you know why you play and what you want out of it. It's not just about money. Poker should be part of a bigger plan.

Your hourly win rate should not be your only measure of success.

(Part V of V): Snake-eyed Glasses (Playing defense)

2007-02-04T23:21:00.000-08:00

(Part V of V): Snake-eyed Glasses (Playing defense)
By Dave Scharf

Introduction
In part one of this series I explained that to understand what your opponents are "telling" you, you need to understand the context in which they speak. In part two I looked at "loss of interest." In part three I discussed "timing tells." In part four I talked about the very interesting effects of adrenaline. And, in this part I shall discuss playing defense. If you are closely studying your opponents, it is safe to assume that at least some of them are closely studying you. To be successful against skilled opponents you will need to guard against giving away information about the strength of your hand. In short, you need to play offense and defense.

Totem Poles v Yappers
There are two extremes of "tell defense." Many players try and become "totem poles." That is, they sit as still as possible, usually with a dour expression on their face, and stare at a spot on the felt or at their opponent. Totem poles try and duplicate their physical and verbal actions each hand no matter what cards they are holding. They always bet with the same motion, look at their cards in the same way, and maintain the same body posture. Most players who are seriously attempting defense - pro and amateur - are totem poles. The advantage to being a totem pole is that it appears easy. You can decide on your rituals and you can rehearse them.

At the other end of the spectrum is the "yapper" - chief proponents include Mike Matusow and Daniel Negreanu. Yappers believe that the best defense is a good offense. They are rarely quiet. They believe either that they do not have any tells or that if they throw a lot of chaff in the air that their tells will remain hidden. And, of course, players will occupy every place in between these two extremes.

Which is right for you, totem or yapper? You need to pick the approach that best fits your personality. I, for instance, am an extrovert. It is hard for me to sit silently for minutes at a stretch, let alone for the hours that a major poker tournament will require. I have tried the totem pole approach and it does not work for me. I can't do it. So, I'm a yapper. Pick a methodology that suits your unique personality. The key is to think about your persona at the poker table before you take your seat. Decide how you want to behave and then behave that way. Your persona will determine, at least in part, how you execute your defense.

One other thing to note about chosen persona - your savvy opponents will be studying your play; your un-savvy opponents will be flirting with the cocktail staff. In other words, you only need to worry about opponents who are capable of cataloging your style and looking for tells. In my experience, there are relatively few players who do this effectively.

Should you try and throw your skilled opponents off the scent? Should you, for instance, try and look like a new player? Should you, for instance, try and make it appear that you are unfamiliar with how the blinds work or who the action is on? Should you try and conceal your level of sophistication? No. Do not bother. It will annoy the other players and your skilled opponents will quickly see through your ruse. Why? Acts speak louder than words. The real truth about tells is that they do not matter nearly as much as the cards you play and how you play them. If you are looking like a new player fresh off the turnip truck and yet you are tight and aggressive your savvy opponents will notice this dichotomy immediately, so do not bother trying.

Do Not Lose Interest
As discussed in part two, a wealth of information is given away by players that act out of turn. They do not actually fold out of turn but they may as well. They look at their cards and lose interest if they do not find cards that they want to play. In fairness to the other players and as a matter of defense, you should never act out of turn, nor should you telegraph your action out of turn.

Before the flop, do not look at your cards until the action reaches you. If you do not know what your hand is, you cannot tell your opponents what it is. Also, I suggest that you decide what you are going to do before you look at your cards. Are you going to steal the blinds with any two cards? Know that before you look at your cards. Are you going to steal the blinds only if you are holding at least one red card (3/4 of the time)? Know that before you look at your cards. This simple exercise will help you with two things: (1) It will make it impossible to give a tell prior to the action reaching you; and (2) It will keep you focused on your opponents - what are they like and what hands should I play in what situations? By deciding your action before looking at your cards you are forcing yourself to think about the particular opponents you are facing in this particular situation.

Take Your Time
Poker players' natural tendency is to quickly make routine decisions and to toil over more complex ones. If you fall into this natural rhythm you will be giving away a lot of information. The solution, fortunately, is obvious: Some of the time you must toil over simple decisions and some of the time you must quickly make difficult decisions. In other words, vary the amount of time it takes you to act. You, like Andy Beal, should take "timing" very seriously. When Andy Beal played a consortium of top pros he built a special timing device to assist him:

[Andy] built a tiny battery-operated motor that he placed in his sock. The motor would issue a small vibration every eight seconds. Andy would make his decision - fold, check, call, bet, raise - in whatever amount of time it took to decide. But he would wait to act on the decision until the next vibration. (Michael Craig, The Professor, the Banker, and the Suicide King - which if you have not read, you should).

Periodically you will need a little time to think about your decision. To give yourself this time, without giving away your hand, you will need to occasionally take time to make routine decisions. This is obvious to most players. Less obvious, however, is the fact that you need to sometimes act quickly on difficult decisions.

Suppose that you sometimes pause before raising with the nuts (this pause is to protect those times that you need time to think) but that you will never act quickly in a difficult spot. What will that tell your opponent? It means that if you have acted quickly he knows that you have a simple decision. So, if your opponent bets his K-9 on a board of 9-6-2 rainbow and you immediately raise he will know that he can fold. He "knows" that you have a routine decision and almost every hand that will routinely raise in this spot will be better than his K-9.

Sometimes slow, sometimes fast, and at least occasionally opposite to the actual strength of your hand. Or, for totem poles, always exactly the same length of time.

As a side note, if you have a routine decision and everyone knows it's a routine decision then do not tarry. If you are first in pre-flop do not sit and think about your hand for a minute to disguise your hand. A pre-flop first-in decision is simple and your ling-think ruse will do nothing other than annoy the other players.

Time in the Trenches
Your demeanor, your level of interest, and your timing are all voluntary - you can choose a course of action that will assist in hiding tells from your opponents - but what about adrenaline which is involuntary? What can you do from giving off the tell tale signs of suddenly increased heart and respiratory rates? Basically, you can practice.

Some players are affected by adrenaline more than others. But all players will see reduced release of adrenaline with more "time in the trenches." The more that you play poker, the more routine events become. The very first time I raised in a casino setting my voice cracked. No kidding. This does not happen anymore. I estimate that I have played 1.5 million hands of poker. Raising no longer gives me a kick of adrenaline. To reduce your bum-cheek-boogie (getting twitchy from adrenaline), practice. The more you practice the more you will find that you are able to control your heart and respiratory rate.

The good news is that you can practice with visualization. Do you have a big tournament coming up? Picture yourself remaining calm and in control despite the fact that Phil Hellmuth is going off. Picture yourself with a constant heart rate despite that fact that you have just flopped a set of aces. In short, spend time preparing with visualization and you will find that it works. Your subconscious mind will believe that you have been in these situations before and you will experience less adrenaline than your ill prepared foes. This means less soaring heart and respiratory rates.

Conclusion
This article has not supplied a magic formula that you can apply and eliminate all your tells. Far from it. The point, ultimately, is that you need to be aware of yourself - your habits and physical state - at the poker table. Once aware you need to practice controlling your behavior such that you control the information you are giving to your opponents. As Doyle Brunson wrote in the seminal Super System: "Always remember that poker is a game of people." When your opponents study you make sure that you are controlling what they are seeing. Make sure that when they ask themselves about what kind of person you are, they has as little as possible to go on. Every poker players' momentary goal is to be the opposite of what your savvy opponents think. And again, don't worry about the un-savvy opponents, they are still flirting with the cocktail waitress.

(Part 4 of 5) The Bum Cheek Boogie (Adrenaline Tells)

2007-02-04T23:18:00.000-08:00

(Part 4 of 5) The Bum Cheek Boogie (Adrenaline Tells)
By Dave Scharf

Introduction
In part one of this series I explained that in order to understand what your opponents are “telling” you, you need to understand the context in which they speak. In part two I looked at “loss of interest.” In part three I discussed “timing tells.” And, in this article I shall discuss what I think is the most interesting area of tells – adrenaline.

What is adrenaline?
Generally, your heart rate increases as a response to exercise. Your sympathetic nervous system and adrenal glands located near the kidneys release adrenaline, which stimulates the heart and increases your heart rate enabling you to perform at increasingly high levels of physical exertion. Situations other than exercise also activate this response. Ever try skydiving? Thump-bump-thump-bump. Public speaking? Thump-bump-thump-bump. Playing Phil Hellmuth heads up for the World Series of Poker Championship? That’ll make your heart race without exercising. In these situations an external event is causing an adrenaline response because your body is anticipating the need for increased physical exertion even though no such need actually exists.

Learn to watch your opponents’ heart and respiratory rates – learn to spot an adrenaline burn. And, learn to interpret what you see. These are the points of this article.

What to watch for
Recently, at a small local no-limit hold’em tournament, I was observing a player who I had never seen before. This was his first live poker tournament and he was nervous – that much was obvious. In particular, I noticed an artery in his neck pounding. Not always, but every now and then, his pulse would take off and it would be obvious to anyone bothering to glance at the side of his neck. He was playing a lot of hands and bluffed a lot.

In the middle stage of the tournament, this new player limped in from middle position. There was no noticeable neck pulse. I limped behind him with 4-4, the small blind folded, and the big blind checked. The flop was K-T-7 and again there was no noticeable pulse. The big blind checked and the new player fiddled with his chips for a moment and then bet the pot. Suddenly, there it was. His heart began to race and it was really obvious: thump-bump-thump-bump-thump-bump. I reasoned that since his own hand wasn’t that exciting (no change) and the flop wasn’t that exciting (no change), that his bet was the exciting and stressful event. His bet caused the adrenaline hit. Why would his bet be so stressful? He was bluffing. I called with my remaining chips (I was short stacked). I was right; he had A-9 for an ace-high bluff. Unfortunately for me, the big blind had 7-7 for a set of sevens and I was promptly eliminated.

You are not watching to see if someone’s heart is racing, you are watching for the precise moment that is starts to race. What event caused a sudden acceleration of heart rate (or respiratory rate)? Have you ever been late in a major poker tournament and peeked at your cards to discover A-A? Thump-bump-thump-bump. Ever limped in on the button of a multi-way pot with 6-5 suited and had the flop come 4-3-2? Thump-bump-thump-bump. Chances are, as soon as you see your aces or your straight, you will experience a jump in heart rate. Consider the reverse. You limp in with 6-5s on the button (no change), the flop comes K-7-2 (no change), it is checked to you (no change), and now you decide to bluff (thump-bump-thump-bump). So, the question to ask is: “What has my opponent seen or done that is causing his heart to race?”

Unusual events like flopping the nuts or suddenly deciding to bluff tend to cause an unexpected release of adrenaline. This flood adrenaline will, in turn, cause an abrupt physiological change in your opponent. Obvious symptoms include a just in heart rate or respiratory rate. But, you may also see much subtler signs. For instance, players suffering adrenaline burn often become “twitchy.” This can be as subtle as a foot suddenly pumping up and down (watch for their jacket or sweater to show this) or a quick clench of the butt (watch for them to “settle in”) Watch and study to see what your opponents’ baseline behavior is and you will soon learn to see “adrenaline burn” when it hits. The broader lesson is, watch your opponents’ heart rates and ask yourself: “What external, non-exercise stimulus is causing a sudden, observed jump in heart and respiratory rate? Did they flop a monster? Or, are they bluffing?” Secondly, practice controlling your own.

What to do with this information
It is not possible to observe all of your opponents all of the time. So, one of the first things you should do is prioritize which opponents bear watching. At the World Series of Poker Championship, am I more likely to scrutinize Phil Hellmuth, or the kid in seat three who came from an online satellite and is now playing his first ever live poker tournament? Phil has won nine WSOP bracelets - it doesn't seem likely that I am going to see him show obvious signs of adrenaline burn. Seat three, on the other hand, has never played in a live tournament. There is a good chance that it has never even occurred to him to control his heart and respiratory rates. He is the one I will watch.

Next, you want to observe your opponents at various seminal moments: when they first look at their cards, when the flop is revealed, and when they bet. Remember, you are looking for the precise moment that the adrenaline burn hits. This moment will occur when some change in their mental state occurs: they first see their hole cards, the flop matches their holding, or they decide to bluff. As poker pro Bob Jarrett points out to me, "You know you are in a bad game when the flop is revealed and nobody is looking at it. You're all staring at each other instead."

Finally, you want to make a decision about what you have seen. Therein lays the rub. For all of this marvelous discussion about adrenaline burn, when it hits, and what is means, it is often hard to tell what you are seeing. What I do is mentally file my observation into one of three categories: (1) Yes, that was definitely an adrenaline hit; (2) No, that was definitely not an adrenaline hit; and (3) Huh, I have no idea if it was or not.

Poker is a game of incomplete information. You need to use everything that your opponents give you, but you also need to guard against relying on a read that is not 100 percent accurate.

Yes, that was an adrenaline burn
Sometimes it's obvious. Remember, adrenaline causes an almost instant jump in heart and respiratory rate. At times, it is unmistakable. You are watching your opponent when the flop is revealed, and all of a sudden his chest starts to heave. He is suddenly sucking wind like he just finished a 100-meter dash. Or, his previously unobserved jugular is suddenly beating like a drum. Or, he shifts in his chair - quick and subtle, but definitely there - and gets ready to do battle. If you see an obvious, powerful physiological reaction, then there is a very high likelihood that you are seeing is the effect of adrenaline. What does this mean? He likes the flop.

He may not have a set. He may not even have top pair. But, he has something that he likes – something that he was hoping to see. For instance, if he has Jc-Tc, then you would expect him to get an adrenaline hit from a flop like 9c-8d-2c. So, when you see a definite adrenaline burn on the flop, you should be very reluctant to bluff this opponent. In fact, you should be very reluctant to continue with the hand at all since you "know" that you are against an opponent who is happy with his hand.

No, that was not an adrenaline burn
It is subtle and harder to spot, but sometimes it is also obvious that your opponent did not have anything interesting happen to him. Imagine you are the batter in a baseball game. You step into the batters box, take a couple of practice cuts, coil into your stance, and wait for the ball. The pitcher goes through his ritual, winds up to sizzle a fastball over the plate, but whirls and throws to first instead. You were ready. You were coiled. And, when he threw to first, you had a little let down. You were tight and you suddenly relaxed.

A poker player suffers a similar series. His cards are dealt (tension mounts). He peeks at his cards (more tension). He likes his hand and he looks forward to the flop (even more tension). The dealer reveals the flop and the player thinks to himself- "Damn. I have 3-3 but there is no third 3 on the flop. Oh well, next hand." He was tight and he suddenly relaxed. Sometimes, this physiological reaction is obvious too. If it is, then you "know" that your opponent does not have a hand he feels good about. Mentally, he has moved on to the next hand and this is probably a good time to bet and pick up the pot.

Huh, I don’t know
The most common observation is no observation at all. In other words, you cannot definitively say that your opponent has had either an adrenaline burn or a let down. In this case, be careful that you are not drawn into believing what you want to believe. I do not want to leave you with the impression that I am observing a constant stream of information served up by the effects of adrenaline on my opponents. I am not. Occasionally I see an adrenaline burn. And, occasionally I see an obvious let down.

Observer bias occurs when the observer, knowing his goal (e.g. to bluff and win the pot), allows his predilection to influence his observations. In other words, human beings tend to see what they want to see. Personally, I know I am prone to this phenomenon, and so I make a very conscious point of categorizing what I see: (1) yes; (2) no; or (3) huh?

Usually, you will see nothing at all. Do not be discouraged. It is better to default to the safe choice than to gamble your bankroll on a mistaken observation. On the other hand, when you are certain about what you have seen, you stand to make, or save, a lot of extra money.

Recap

Watch the opponents who you feel are most likely to experience a noticeable adrenaline burn.
Watch them at seminal moments in the hand: when they peek, when the flop (turn or river) is revealed, and when they bet.
Categorize your observations: yes, no, huh?
Use this information, and all the other information available to you, to divine what your opponents have (or don't have).
Increase your win rate.

In part V I will talk about snake-eyed glasses, in other words, playing defense.

(Part 3 of 5) A Mind Reading Act (Timing Tells)

2007-02-04T23:16:00.000-08:00

(Part 3 of 5) A Mind Reading Act (Timing Tells)
By Dave Scharf

Introduction
In part one of this series I explained that in order to understand what your opponents are “telling” you, you need to understand the context in which they speak. In part two I looked at “loss of interest.” In this part I shall look at “timing tells.” That is, I will look at what your opponent’s delay tells you about his hand. Is he taking a long time to act or is he acting quickly? And, what does his timing mean?

The incomparable Mr. Mike Caro (rhymes with “arrow”)
If you are interested in tells and you have not read Caro’s Book of Poker Tells then you are missing out on one of the best poker books ever written. Critics will point out that there is a lot of silliness in Mike’s book and, well, there is. But, the core information is exquisite. No work will speed your study of tells more than this one.

In his seminal work Caro describes the “thinking” tell this way: “Players will seldom delay limit poker games by taking an extra long time to make a decision. When [a player] leans back and considers his situation, it’s probably a borderline decision.”

Let me add this: when a player has to stop and think about whether to call, fold, or raise – I mean really think about it – then he is not making for him a routine decision. Whatever his hole cards, his choice of action is not obvious. He needs a few seconds to consider his choices. This may not tell you what he has, but it will tell you a lot about what he does not have.

Context is everything
Back to part one of this series. You need to have some idea of your opponent’s skill level. If, for instance, he is a little-skilled low-limit player and he needs some time to think about his action he does not have: (1) top pair; (2) a four flush; or (3) an open-ended straight draw. It is a very rare low-limit player that will need to think about any of these options. He will either call or raise as a matter of routine.

So, if you see a player stop and seriously think for a long time, your job is to figure out what he is thinking about. Your job is to understand what level a player he is and read his mind. Let me give you a specific example from my last local, small buy-in limit hold’em tournament.

Mind reading in action
The betting was $10-20. I was the big blind with A-9o. Two callers and the little blind limped in, I checked. The flop was A-8-7 of different suits. I had top-pair, nine kicker. Not bad, but not great. The small-blind checked, I bet, Andy called without hesitation, and all others folded.

I know Andy well. He is loose and passive. He will not raise unless he has a big hand. He will check and call with a variety of hands from moderately strong to quite weak. In sort, he is a calling station. They are common in low and mid-limit games and small buy-in tournaments. What did his call on the flop tell me? Not very much – he could have had anything from top pair to a gutshot straight draw. In short, Andy will take off the turn with a wide variety of hands.

The turn was a jack. I bet out again. Andy now had to take a long pause to do some ciphering. And, as soon as he had to stop and think I learned a lot about his hand. On the flop he had a routine call (he acted quickly). On the turn, the jack caused him to stop and think. The jack did not help his hand very much, if it all. I concluded that he was not holding T-9 for a straight. Nor did the jack make him two pair – that too would make for a routine play on the turn. And, it was very likely that he did not have an ace. Players like Andy do not fold top pair for a single bet in limit hold’em. This meant that my A-9 is good.

The river card was another jack. I bet out. Andy called and mucked when I tabled my hand. There was some risk that he had made three jacks. It is possible, for instance, that he could have held a hand like J-T. He called on the flop with a gutshot (routine for Andy) and then had to think about it on the turn with second pair and a gutshot. On balance, however, I felt it was most likely that my hand was the best and warranted a bet on the river. I was right. Without picking up this tell on the turn I would probably check the river fearing an ace with a bigger kicker. Andy’s timing tell encouraged me to bet the river and add an extra $20 to my stack that otherwise would have remained in his.

Watch for your opponents to stop and think. Ask yourself, “What is he thinking about?” It’s really that easy.

A word of caution
There are two obvious things to warn against when looking for this tell.

First, sometimes a player with a big hand needs time to think. He is conspiring how to win as many of your chips as possible. It is, for him, not a routine decision but it will be an unpleasant surprise for you. Eventually these players will reveal themselves because the will raise you. So, beware the player that spends a lot of time thinking about a non-routine action and then comes out betting or raising.

Second, sometimes it’s an act. Back to Caro’s Book of Poker Tells, Mike teaches a simple piece of wisdom which I paraphrase: If an opponent is acting, figure out what he wants you to do and then do the opposite. If a player is pretending to think about his action he wants you to perceive him as weak. He is not. He is trying to fool you. Do not fall prey to his trap.

I don’t have any specific advice for how you tell the difference between someone who is acting and someone who is genuinely deep in thought. All I can recommend is that you study them and ask yourself: “Real or fake?” More often than not, when I ask myself this question, I am right. You can usually tell an actor from the genuine article. There aren’t too many Robert de Niros in the poker room.

And, of course, sometimes when you are facing a routine decision take your time. It will throw me off if I am studying you.

(Part 2 of 5) Have Lost Interest (Situational Tells)

2007-02-04T23:14:00.000-08:00

(Part 2 of 5) Have Lost Interest (Situational Tells)
By Dave Scharf

Introduction
In the first article in this series I explained that if you are to properly interpret what your opponents are “telling” you then you will need to understand what “language” that they speak. In other words, to understand your opponent’s behavior you need to have some understanding of his context – his experience and his capabilities. I suggested that, at the minimum you need to answer these questions about your opponent:

Is he new to poker or is he an intermediate player?
Is he new to live play?
Is he a “book player” or a creative player?
Is he a pro or an amateur?
Is he a world class player?

Without some idea of the sort of person your opponent is, you will not be able to interpret the body language and “tells” that he is showing.

I divide tells into three broad categories. Timing tells give you information based upon how much time that your opponent takes to make a decision. I will deal with timing tells in part III. Adrenaline tells give you information based upon sudden changes in your opponent’s physiological state brought on by adrenaline. I will cover adrenaline tells in part IV. Situational tells cover everything else and they are the subject of this article although I will only deal with one situational tell in particular – “loss of interest.”

Loss of interest
The most common situational tell is loss of interest. When you see your opponent’s interest wane, you know that he has nothing. Intellectually, he has finished with the hand. This tell is most common to intermediate players, book players, and players who are new to live play. Beginners do not give this tell off as readily since they never lose interest. They have not become jaded to starting hands like the intermediate player or the book player. Online players who are new to live game play are often accustomed to clicking the “check and fold” button. In live play they “click the button in their brain” and it shows in their action.

To take a non-poker example, have you ever been in a job interview and noted at the half way point that the interviewer has started looking over your shoulder at the clock on the wall. He is yawning and lightly tapping his pencil on the desk. What’s going on? He has lost interest in the interview. He has lost interest in you. And, you aren’t going to get the job. How do you know apply this to poker?

When a poker players loses interest in the hand you know that he is no longer intending to contest the pot. He has given up. You particularly see this tell pre-flop because, more than any other time in a poker hand, players tend to be ritualized pre-flop. That is to say that their habits are more ingrained and subtle variations are, therefore, more apparent.

Yawning pre-flop
You will frequently meet opponents who peek at their hole cards before the action reaches them – peekers. A peeker will look at his hole cards and then he will either perk up or lose interest. Sometimes it is completely obvious. As an extreme example, you will see opponents peek at their cards and then stand up and leave the table before the action reaches them. A pretty clear “tell” that he is not going to play this hand. You will see less extreme but still obvious examples – opponents who look at their cards, pick them up, and cock their wrist so that when the action reaches them they can simply toss their cards into the muck. And, you will see more subtle examples. But, if you have been watching a peeker over the course of a few hands you may well discern the subtle variation in ritual and be able to interpret what it means.

As a more subtle example of “loss of interest” consider Stan the Peeker. Stan has a five-dollar poker chip from the Mirage in Las Vegas. He is very proud of this chip. He likes nothing more than to be asked about it so that he can tell the story of his second place finish in the Mirage’s Friday $500 event. Pre-flop, Stan has a ritual. Stan always looks at his cards as soon as he gets them – he does not wait for the action to reach him. Then he uses his Mirage chip as a card capper and he places it on his cards to protect them. He does this without fail. But after watching for a few hands you notice one subtle difference in the routine. When Stan has a hand that he is considering playing, he places his card capper and leaves his cards alone. When Stan has lost interest in the hand he places his card capper but his hands stay in contact with his cards. He is expediting his upcoming fold. He is leaving his hands on his cards so that it will be quicker to take off his card capper and muck his hand once the action reaches him. The “hands on cards” loss of interest is common. Another common variation is tucking one’s cards back against one’s chips. If you have lost interest you leave your hand out front, close to the muck, to facilitate a quick fold; if you are interested, you tuck your cards back near the rail.

Whatever the case, the key is to observe your opponents over the course of a few hands and sort out what their pre-flop ritual is. If you see a variation then ask yourself “what does this variation mean?”

So he lost interest? So what?
What good is this information? What can you do with it? Has the big-blind lost interest? If he has, and you are on the button and everyone has folded to you, raise with any two cards. Has the button lost interest? If he has, then you are one seat closer to being the button. If you are the cutoff then you are the virtual button. You could consider a steal attempt or you could slightly widen the range of hands that you would consider playing since you know that at least one of the players behind you is done with the hand.

An interesting thing that I sometimes see is this. The button peeks at his cards and loses interest. Then it folds all the way around and he suddenly decides to raise. What happened? When he first looked at his cards he thought, “Ho-hum, lousy hand, I’m going to fold.” Then his situation changed. Everyone folded. “A-ha,” he thinks, “Even though I have a weak hand maybe I can steal the blinds.” And, he raises. If you are the big-blind, what should you do? Re-raise with any two cards and bet the flop no matter what comes. You know the button is weak (his first plan was to fold) and he will likely surrender to you on the flop.

Defending yourself
I will write more on protecting yourself in the part V but pre-flop this tell is easy to defend yourself from. Do not look at your cards until the action reaches you. You can’t lose interest in the hand if you do not know what you have.

Also, decide what you are going to do before you even look at your cards. Do not let your cards talk you into something. Rather, analyze your opponents, decide what you are going to do with what kinds of cards, peek, and act. It’s fluid and it doesn’t show you losing interest prematurely.

Loss of interest on the flop and river
You will also see players lose interest on the flop and on the river. This loss of interest is often related to adrenaline and I will talk more about this in part IV. Nevertheless, you should be watching your opponents closely as the flop is revealed. Suppose you have an opponent who holds 7s-6s. If the flop is Kc-Qc-Jc you may note that he loses interest. He gets ready to fold or he starts chatting with his neighbor about that fact that he just cannot catch a flop. Seems a good opportunity to bluff with your 5d-4d.

Suppose you have an opponent with 7s-6s and the flop is Kd-5s-4s. He has flopped an open ended straight flush draw. He is very hopeful and he is not folding until the river, to be sure. There is four way action. The turn is the Qd and the river is the Th. It is possible that you will see him lose interest on the river. In his mind he “abandons the hand.” Although it will be hard to bluff this pot – with four players in – you know that you do not have to fear a raise behind you from the player that has lost interest.

Conclusion
This has just touched on “losing interest.” When you start playing poker you will try and see tells. And, chances are, you will struggle. There is so much to think about and concentrate on when you start out. With time and practice, however, you will start to interpret what you are seeing. You will be able to tell when a player has lost interest in a hand. And, more importantly, you will be able to convert this new knowledge into extra earning. There is a tremendous amount of information available at a poker game – particularly against new and intermediate players. You will require practice. Like everything in life, it takes time. Study, practice, and repeat.

(Part 1 of 5) Building Blocks and Categories

2007-02-04T23:12:00.000-08:00

(Part 1 of 5) Building Blocks and Categories
By Dave Scharf

Introduction
A “tell” is something that a player does or says, either consciously or unconsciously, that gives a hint as to the quality of his hand. It is something that your opponent does or says that “tells” you what he has.

I recently had an interesting exchange of email with a Canadian poker player that I have a lot of respect for. Scott Gusba has a sharp mind and is flawless in his analysis of poker problems. I was trying to coax him into joining me at a major Canadian tournament. He made an interesting comment that got me thinking:

I think part of the reason I'm not so strong at live play is I don't have much success at picking up physical tells. On the other hand, you seem to incorporate a lot of (live) tells into your own poker decisions.
For me, picking up live tells is something I'm consistently working on. Other than the run-of-the-mill tells, I can only think of a handful of times I've really picked up (and used) solid tells in poker games.

Scott is right about me. I make a lot of decisions in live poker based upon my read of the game and my opponent specifically. It would not be right, however, to say that this is based upon a feeling. There is, generally, a lot of thought and critical analysis that has combined to give me my solution. Determining your opponent’s holding is the result of careful calculation, not a simple gut reaction.

In this five part series I will try and describe the things that I see, time and time again, at a poker table that tend to reveal my opponents’ cards to me. And, I will describe some of the defensive techniques I deploy to keep the enemy from reading me. I am not, by the way, “looking into their souls.” I am simply adding up the sum of available information and coming to a conclusion. Over the years I have learned to trust myself. I used to keep careful track of my reads and I know from this experience that when I come to a definite conclusion about my opponent’s hand, I am right a lot more than I am wrong.

Finally, before we dive in, it is essential to pay homage to Mike Caro’s Book of Tells: The Body Language of Poker (which has various updated titles). Caro’s book is the most comprehensive writing on tells available. If you are serious about studying tells it is essential that you get a copy of this book. Mike lists several specific tells that you will not be able to derive from this series of articles. And, Mike Caro’s writing is always a ton of fun to read.

What language is he speaking?
Before understanding what a player is “telling” you, you need comprehend the context in which he “speaks.” To take an example from outside poker, consider the simple act of giving someone the “thumbs up” sign. This has a very different meanings in different cultures. In North America it is a sign of approval; in the Arab world it is the equivalent of giving someone the “middle-finger” salute. The lesson is, unless you know what language a person is speaking, you will not know what he is trying to tell you. And, so it is with poker.

To take a poker example, ask yourself, “What will cause this player’s heart to race?” Now compare a brand new player to a veteran Las Vegas pro. It should be apparent to you that each of these opponents’ heart rates will have very different triggers. The new player is experiencing a lot of things for the very first time. He has never posted a blind, entered a pot, folded a hand, or asked the dealer a question. He is making his first foray into the strange new world of casino poker. He is trying to look cool – to look like he belongs – but he is feeling nervous and out of place. The Vegas pro, on the other hand, has seen everything before. It will be hard to get a rise out of him. He has “been there and done that.”

If you were studying each of these players and you noticed each of their heart rates suddenly increase you should, naturally, come to very different conclusions – more on this in Part IV (adrenalin tells). You should, however, intuitively see that the new player’s heart rate will jump at almost anything, but the pro’s heart rate will be unaffected by everything other than an unusual event. If the pro’s heart is suddenly pounding like a jackhammer busting concrete then you can be certain that something out of the ordinary is going on. Again, the point is that you have to understand the player if you are going to understand what he is telling you.

Initial building blocks – putting them in boxes
I quickly categorize my opponents. I “put them in boxes.” And, as the play progresses I shrink the boundaries of their boxes. Is this opponent capable of a big bluff or are his bets reliable? Is this player new or has he got a lot of experience? Does this player adapt according to how he perceives his opponents or is he playing a rote strategy? These are the kinds of questions that you will want to answer before you decide what his body language is telling you. Before you can properly read tells, you must lay the foundation. The initial building block is the categorization of your opponents.

I use the player categories that I describe in my book Winning at Poker: Essential Hints and Tips. You should use whatever categories that you feel comfortable with. At the minimum I suggest that you discern, for each of your opponents, whether he is:

New to poker or an intermediate player;
New to live play or not;
A “book player” or a creative player;
A pro or an amateur; and
A world class player or not.

These five questions will go a long way towards sorting out Situation Tells, Timing Tells, and Adrenaline Tells which are the subject of future articles in this series.

For now, suffice to say that new players will tend to have a wider range of “trouble situations” than intermediate players. Players that are new to live play may be focusing on some issues that are not, strictly speaking, related to the current hand. “Book” players are easier to read than creative players. Please note that I use the phrase “book player” to mean “rote player” or “predictable player.” David Sklansky has written several remarkable poker books, but he is anything other than a “book player.” Professional players are, generally, more seasoned than amateur players. Here note that I do not use “pro” and “amateur” to denote “skilled” and “unskilled.” A lot of poker literature today uses this distinction and it is very wrong. There are many amateur players who are very skilled and there are lots of pros who, in my opinion, have only modest skills. To be frank, it’s not hard to be a professional poker player as long as you are good at game selection. The last group, world class players, will be next to impossible to read. Don’t waste your time trying. Instead, put on you’re your snake-eyed glasses and play defense (the subject of Part V in this series).

Today’s lesson is simple. Study your opponents and try to figure out, broadly speaking, how they play. If you have a good idea of the type (or category) of each opponent, you will be in good shape to sort out the tells that each is giving off.

I´m Going to Bury You

2007-02-04T23:09:00.000-08:00

I´m Going to Bury You
By Dave Scharf

A great book

I have just finished reading Phil Gordon’s Little Green Book: Lessons and Thinking in No-limit Texas Hold’em. Let me say, congratulations Phil, you have produced an excellent, thought provoking tome. It seems like everybody has a book these days. And, every back cover is splashed with complimentary words from “known” poker people – players or writers. A lot of these books are marginal and most of the compliments are fluff. This is not the case with Phil Gordon’s Little Green Book. I was really impressed. It offers some superior advice for the novice and some interesting, provocative thoughts for more advanced players. [Disclaimer: I don’t know Phil and he doesn’t know me. This is an honest, unbiased review.]

The right attitude

Lingering after completing the book is a passage in which Phil quotes Seve Ballesteros, Masters Champion:

I look into their eyes, shake their hand, pat their back, and wish them luck, but I am thinking, “I am going to bury you.”

Phil goes on to add his own words:

I do my best to be a likeable guy at the poker table. Pleasant. Courteous. Affable. But please don’t mistake my good nature for anything resembling sympathy. Once the cards are in the air, my primary goal is to bust each and every one of my opponents.

If you do not bring this attitude to your next game you are not playing your best. Poker is a game of small edges. You need to identify where your edge is over each of your opponents and then you need to exploit that edge until you get every last penny that you can wring out of the miserable sons of bitches. If you are going to play your best, you are going to have to want to crush your opponents, burn their villages, and leave no survivors. But remember, poker is a game and games are supposed to be fun. So, after you have finished burying them and singing Glory Hallelujah while dancing a jig on their fresh graves go for a beer and laugh about it. Like Phil Gordon, this is the attitude that I try to take to the poker table:

(1)I try to be a pleasant person to play against;
(2)I try to do everything I can to beat my opponents for every cent they are willing to lose; and
(3)I try to never take it personally.

Relax, it’s just a game

If your opponents can’t laugh about their losses (you can laugh about yours, right?) then that is their problem, not yours. You can’t control how others feel. If, for you, poker is a fun and profitable game, that’s great. If your opponents find it to be a dark and sinister inner struggle there is nothing you can do about that. It’s a game. If you don’t want to play the game, don’t. But, if you choose to play, then quit your complaining.
Ever watch Survivor? Sixteen players start out marooned. Every week one player is voted off the show. The last player remaining wins $1 million. Think of it as a satellite. The second place finisher gets a little something but there is a big gap between first and second place. Survivor just about ended my marriage.

Watching one of the early seasons my wife remarked, “I can’t believe how mean they are to each other. They lie all the time. This show offends me.”

For a split second I forgot my motto (“Happy wife, happy life”) and I blurted out: “What are you talking about? It’s a game. They all agreed to play the game. It’s not personal. They are trying to win $1 million; of course they are lying to each other!” I was in rehabilitation for quite awhile but I am now allowed out on a day pass. And, provided my wife does not read this column I will gain full release soon.

Would my wife make a good poker player? No, she would not. She can’t separate her personal sense of justice from the game. She empathizes with the players on Survivor and assumes that some of them come away with hurt feelings. Indeed, some of them do. But if you wind up on Survivor and your primary goal is winning the $1 million, you had better be prepared to “do whatever it takes.” This will include, at the very least, a willingness to portray yourself as someone in the game you are not in real life. You may be called upon to lie right to someone’s face. If you aren’t willing to do this – if your primary goal is to “maintain your dignity” – then your chance of victory is less than players who are willing to deploy every weapon in the arsenal.

So it is with poker. If you are playing poker to make friends, then you are not as likely to win as the player who is there to win the money. I once had a player leave a game in a huff after I check raised him. Uh… Isn’t that allowed? Yes, it is. It’s part of the game. And, it’s not personal. Smile. And, bury them, if you can.

Some more inspirational quotes

“People wish their enemies dead – but I do not; I say give them the gout, give them the stone!” Lady Mary Wortley Montagu: quoted in letter from Horace Walpole to Earl of Harcourt, 17 September 1778.

Poker translation: Fill your self with hate and loathing, but make it fun to lose. Otherwise they will quit the game and take their money with them. Other possible poker meanings: Be an ambassador. Be fun to play with. Don’t belittle your opponents. If your opponents stop having “fun” they will stop playing and you will no longer be able to take their money.

“Never hate your enemies...it will cloud your thinking.” Michael Corleon: Godfather III.

Poker translation: Don’t make it personal. Your job is to identify your opponents’ weaknesses and exploit them. It is not to exploit their person, it is to exploit their gamesmanship.

“Friends are just enemies that don't have the guts to kill you.” Judy Tenuda.

Poker translation: Don’t soft play your brother, sister, wife, husband, lover, or feeble grandmother. Take every last cent that they will give you while you smile and chat about Sunday’s football game. Sorry grandma, ship it.

Getting Aces Cracked Six Times in a Row Doesn’t Seem Very Random

2007-02-04T23:04:00.000-08:00

Getting Aces Cracked Six Times in a Row Doesn’t Seem Very Random
By Dave Scharf

Ever get on a winning streak that leaves you feeling invincible? Like you should be signing autographs? Conversely, ever been on a losing streak that is so arduous it threatens to break your spirit and send you to the rail permanently? Welcome to the phenomenon that all poker players experience – random events do not appear very random when you look back on them.

A simple demonstration

Scoop up a handful of pebbles, give them a shake, and drop them onto the driveway. What will be the result? The pebbles will not be spread across the pavement in a perfect pattern – far from it, in fact. There will be one or more distinct clumps. Of the stones that do not find membership in one of these clumps, they will be scattered at various distances from one another in no recognizable pattern. They will not, however, be spread out with geometric precision, each equidistant from all the others.

Now, ask someone to describe why you placed the stones on the driveway in this pattern. You may find that this apparently unbiased observer will come to some remarkable conclusions: “I see that you put those seven stones in a bunch because they have a similar reddish-brown colour.” It is also possible (maybe even likely) that this observer will not notice anything unusual: “Why did you put rocks all over your driveway?”

What you have demonstrated is that random events sometimes look as though they have patterns when you look back at them. You know that you scooped up a handful of ordinary pebbles. You know that you shook them in your hand to mix them. And, you know that you cast them randomly onto the driveway. Yet there appears to be a pattern. This apparent pattern is the basis for all sort of bogus gambling systems. Ever see a Roulette player writing down all the numbers that have come up in the past hour? He is trying to find a pattern by looking back at random events. He will, of course, fail.

Poker works the very same way.

Poker is random

Within the confines of fifty-two cards dealt according to certain specific rules (two to a player and five on the table for hold’em), poker is random. You know that there is a fifty-two card deck. You know that the dealer shuffled the cards. And, you know that the cards were randomly distributed. This sounds a lot like a bunch of pebbles in your driveway.

One can calculate the likelihood of a certain event happening. For instance, in hold’em you will be dealt a pocket pair 5.88 percent of the time. For sake of simplicity, we will round this off to 1 in 20. This means that you will be dealt a pocket pair approximately once every two laps of the button in a ten-handed game. Experience will tell you, though, that sometimes you go all night without seeing a single pocket pair and other nights you get the magical pocket aces six times. This is the effect of randomness. Your 5.88 percent chance of getting a pocket pair results in clumping, just like your random pebbles. Some of your stones (pocket aces) will clump together (appear several times in one evening). On the other hand, sometimes your 5.88 percent will result in an aces drought that lasts for weeks.

The next storm is only a handful of pebbles away

Ever flop a set and lose to a runner-runner flush held by a guy who is so drunk that he cannot make out the flop? Ever lose your pocket aces to a river deuce and some guy who called your all-in bet on the flop with his pocket deuces because he thought you might be bluffing? Ever had hands like this several times over the course of an evening or a week?

Just as specific hands clump, so do specific results. Some nights every one of your strong hands will stand up. Other nights, every draw you can imagine will get there on the river to beat you. More pebble clumping.

Wins and losses are randomly distributed as well. This means that right now you may be at the end of a dry spell, the beginning of a hot streak, or in the middle of the worst losing streak of your life. There is no way to know for sure and, provided you are playing well, there is nothing you can do about it. Just don’t let it destroy you.

Think of it this way. Your biggest, longest winning streak is still in the future – and so is your worst, most gruesome losing streak. The clumps of wins and losses, just like the clumps of pebbles, are impossible to predict until you are looking back at them. Instead, you must come to embrace them or endure them as the case may be.

When you are in a winning streak, enjoy it. Delight in the money that is coming in faster than you imagined was possible. But, don’t get caught up in your own prowess. Human beings tend to overvalue short-term results. Yes, you are a skilled, profitable player but you are not that good. You will have periods in which your wins are way more than they ought to be. This is simply pebble clumping.

When you are in a losing streak, endure it with aplomb. Take heart in the fact you know this is a temporary condition. Losing streaks may destroy lesser players, but not you because you understand this is nothing other than a short-term phenomenon. More pebble clumping. Soon enough, it will pass and you will return to your winning ways.

This is not to say that when you are losing you should not be looking for the cause. Maybe it is you? Maybe you have slipped and started to play a losing brand of poker? In that case, you can fix it. But, if you are certain that you ought to be winning and you are not, relax. It will pass. This losing streak will be replaced by a winning streak, perhaps as soon as the next shuffle of the cards, or handful of pebbles.

Play a tournament with me (part II)

2007-02-04T22:59:00.000-08:00

Play a tournament with me (part II)
by Rolf Slotboom

In the first part of this article, I described one of the (for me, rare) tournaments that I played recently. In a 62-player field, the rebuys and add-on being over, I was the chip leader at my table - a table that, with the exception of two or three players, consisted of weak-tight players mostly. Overall in the event, I was actually just a bit above average in chips, but at this table I was the clear chip leader. Because the limits went up very slowly and the blinds were fairly small in relation to the size of the stacks, the money was quite deep even at our somewhat short-stacked table. This meant that there was enough room to maneuver, and to try to outplay the opposition.

What I tried to do was this. I was hoping to take advantage of my chip lead and the predictable play of some of my opponents, while at the same time profiting from my strong image. The people here all knew me as the Rock that they always see in the cash games, but even though my tournament style is quite different from the way I play cash, most players don't know that - because they have never seen me play in tournaments. So, my goal was to steal some small and medium-sized pots, especially when it seemed none of my opponents held much.

Things start to turn sour for the Ace

But even though they respected me, they did call my raises without blinking their eyes! With blinds of $30 and $60, I made it $210 to go with pocket eights, and got called in no less than four places! Now, the first caller turned out to have bullets, and had he reraised me before the flop, I may actually have given him some action. But now the flop KQ5 saved me quite a bit of money as I had an easy check / fold, with all those overcards staring me in the face.

Then, on the immediate next hand, I got an ace-jack offsuit. I again made it $210 to go, and this time I got called in two places, with both blinds folding. I knew both of these players pretty well, and thought they were quite likely to be holding dominated hands like ace-rag or jack-ten. So, when the flop came A82 rainbow, I was fairly certain I had the best hand. And on top of that, if indeed my hand was good now, my opponents would almost certainly be drawing very slim. I checked, hoping that one of the players behind me would bet with either a weaker ace than me, or even as a total bluff. Both players checked though, but this also meant something good for me: It meant that I almost certainly held the best hand with my pair of aces, jack kicker.

When an offsuit five came on the turn, I decided to check once more, this time more than anything to induce a bluff from my opponents - who were quite likely to be drawing thin or even dead to my hand. Alas, both players checked once more. So, when a nine came on the river, I decided this was the time to make a decent value bet with my aces, hoping that one of my opponents would hold a nine or even a small pair and pay me off. After all, with all this checking on my behalf, a big bet on the river would seem suspicious, wouldn't it? I bet $400, hoping to pick up a call from one of the players. But after long deliberation, the player in the middle did not call me - he raised it $400 more! Now, I went into the tank. I thought this player was unlikely to hold a 76. He was fairly tight preflop and had a tendency to overvalue semi-big cards while undervaluing the small cards, so it was not very likely he would have called my raise with this hand. But it did look like he had me beat! After all, it would seem like a very strange move to check two times when the pot may be up for grabs, to then suddenly spring to life on the river as a bluff, against a decent-sized bet by a dangerous player. So, my first read was pocket nines. That would be a hand that was consistent with his moves, and also that would mean that my flop and turn checks had been very expensive - because he would probably have folded his nines against any decent-sized bets by me on the early streets. Anyway, after long deliberation I decided to call, only to get shown an ace-nine offsuit for top two pair. Even though I hated the fact that I had made that final call knowing and sensing I was beat, at least I knew that in this case I would never have won the hand. If this player calls a big preflop raise by a tight player like me with a mere A9, then he certainly won't fold once he flops top pair - at least that's what I figured. So, my passive play may actually have saved me my entire stack, even though of course I should probably have saved the final $400 as well.

Yet another loss

And not much later, I lost yet another pot! I got a free play in the $60 big blind with Q8, five players total in the hand. Flop: QQA. I decided to not make any more fancy moves now, but rather bet out for a decent amount: $210. I got called in two places, the same player who had beat me before with the A9, and a player who had just joined the table and who seemed extremely loose. An offsuit ten came on the turn, exactly the type of card that I did not hope to see. Both players could very well have called my big bet with a KJ, meaning their inside straight had just been filled. (Yes, I know they should not call an almost pot-sized bet with a mere gutshot. But both these players seemed like exactly the kind of people who would.) This in addition to the fact that one of them could well hold a queen / better kicker or even an ace-queen to have me terribly beat.

However, from the way the first player had called my flop bet, it seemed to me that he simply had an ace. He didn't look like he was drawing, and he didn't strike me to have hit the whopper either. The most logical assumption was that he had a hand of moderate strength, most likely an ace for aces and queens, possibly with a marginal kicker. Because I wanted to know exactly where I was, and also to show my opponents I was not messing around, I chose to bet $400 into the $930 pot. I was hoping for one of the following scenarios: either win it there and then, or have the first person call and the second one fold. Because I had no read on the second player, I hoped he would just fold, so I could maybe milk my one remaining opponent for some more on the river.

But in poker, as well as in life, things don't always go according to plan. Both players called, and the second one even called rather quickly. That was the bad news. The good news was that no one had raised me off my hand, and their calls could mean that my three queens were still good. So, when an offsuit five came on the river, I immediately bet another $400, and this time the first caller called me instantly - as if he had made up his mind that we was not going to be bet off his hand. But then, within seconds, the second player raised me to $400 more! What was happening here? Had this man been slowplaying a big hand? Ace-queen looked rather remote to me, but queen-ten seemed quite possible. Or did he have a straight after all? He couldn't be bluffing, could he? Because that would be an awfully strange move. After all, he had called decent bets on the flop and the turn with a pair on the board, and then on the river against a bet and a quick call, he made a raise that seemed to beg for a call. I also knew that even if this player had somehow overplayed trip queens, I could never win the entire pot: because of the two big cards on the board my kicker did not play anymore. So, because basically everything indicated that this man must have me beat, I decided to fold. But because the first caller folded too, I never knew if in fact I had made the correct decision.

The Ace is now shortstacked - but manages to double up

When I then lost another pot where I overplayed a rather marginal holding, I had lost a significant portion of my stack in relatively little time. And just as importantly: my opponents had seen me involved in quite a few pots until the very end - yet not winning any of them. I cursed at myself for my too-loose and too-tricky play. I knew I had both underestimated my opponents and overestimated myself, trying to rule over the table when there was no real need to - after all, the blinds were still fairly low. All in all, after just three hours of play I was suddenly in immediate danger of busting out holding a stack of just $780, the blinds being $50-100.

I did manage to double up though. With just one limper, I had called from the small blind with a K6, hoping to either get a good flop or else bluff my opponents out if the situation seemed right. The flop came K62, giving me top two pair. I decided that this was a hand good enough to go broke with, and because of the danger of someone holding a single diamond, I made a huge overbet, betting $620 into the $300 pot. I got called, bet my last $60 blind, got called again, and in the end my two pair held up against my opponent's A9 for a nine-high flush draw.

Back in the saddle?

I now had $1,660 again, and after forfeiting my $70 and $140 blinds, I was down to $1,450 with 38 players left in the event. I knew that on this day we would play down until 36 players, but that didn't affect me too much of course. My goal was not to make it to the final day - my goal was to win the event.

But that did not necessarily make my final move correct. I was two off the button with a mere K2. The cutoff had gone to the toilet, and I had gotten a reliable tell that the button was about to fold. I knew that in three hands I would be the big blind, and around that time the blinds would also move up to $100-200. Not wanting to get shortstacked, I figured this would be a decent chance to steal $210 in blind money. Rather than making a small $420 raise or so, I decided to commit fully, going all-in for $1,450, more than ten times the big blind. I figured I would probably win this pot uncontested at least 70 or 75% of the time - but I was wrong. Within seconds, the small blind announced "Call", and I knew I was toast of course. But then, when the hands were shown, it turned out I was actually in the lead - my opponent holding JT! Now, this was of course a horrible call on his expense, but my own play had not been great either. Still, I knew that if I won the pot I would be in decent shape again, not far from the average stack size of about $4,000. But a ten flopped to send me out - basically before the event had even started.

Final analysis

When I left my seat and saw the other players in the game holding the chips, I knew exactly who was to blame for this exit: me. Instead of just playing ABC poker, seeing flops cheaply and then hoping and expecting to get paid off, I had decided to use advanced, risky strategies against people who would simply do the obvious: call. By making multiple moves on my opponents and by going for the expert play way too often, I had gotten exactly what I deserved: a pat on the back. I knew that in this field I should only have gone out if I ran into a terrible beat or two. Yet what I had done was giving away my chips by overplaying crummy cards, and to make things worse I had not even gotten really unlucky either. By trying to rule over the table, I simply handed over my chips to my opponents - and I had no one to blame but me.

Play a tournament with me (part I)

2007-02-04T22:56:00.000-08:00

Play a tournament with me (part I)
by Rolf Slotboom

As most readers of this column will know, I rarely play tournaments. In fact, ever since I have bought my new house, and with all my writing / reporting / TV activities, I simply don't get to play much poker at all, whether it's cash or tournament, live or online. Also, because my bread-and-butter game, the big pot-limit Omaha game in Amsterdam, is not as good as it used to be, I have decided to shift my attention to other poker endeavors, rather than keep focusing on a game that was once great but that may now have died out a little.

Because of these changed circumstances I nowadays travel much more than I used to. So, when I heard that the state casino in the south of Holland had decided to host a two-day poker tournament, I had no doubts and went over there - more than anything because the cash games were expected to be very juicy. They had twenty tables for a maximum of 200 entrants, and five tables would remain free for cash games that would go on before, during and after the tournament. So, I booked a hotel situated at the beach and just a five minutes walk from the casino, in order to enjoy an excellent combination of sun and poker - hoping that after the two days I would be able leave the place with both a nice tan and a couple of bucks.

Poor attendance changes things

But as it happened, this turned out to be the hottest day of the year - not exactly a day to play poker. And because registration had not been possible in advance, but everybody had to come to the casino on the day of the event, quite a few players simply decided to spend their time in a different manner than they had initially planned. As a result, a mere 62 players turned up for the tournament - and there were no cash games at all going on. While I was not very pleased about this, I did notice that the tournament field was not unusually strong, so I thought this might actually be a great opportunity to hone my tournament skills. Ever since my highly successful run at the relatively small tournaments in Vienna, about five years ago, I have more or less left tournaments aside in favor of both cash games and my writings, and more recently also online play. But with the very slow structure that this tournament had, a slower structure than almost any tournament I ever played in, I thought this would be a very worthwhile experience - possibly not as great as winning big in the cash games, but great nonetheless.

At first glance, it seemed I had gotten quite an unlucky draw, being at one table with three regular players from my former cash game in Amsterdam, decent players who are all far more experienced than I am when it comes to playing tournaments. In fact, I was fairly certain that none of them had ever seen me participate in a tournament: they usually see me play in cash games, and report on tournaments. As a result, they were probably unaware that my tournament style is quite different from my patient, rock-like waiting game that I practice in money play. Therefore, I hoped that I would be able to take advantage of the fact that - especially in the beginning of the event - people would give me credit for strong cards once I would be involved in a hand.

This being a $275 no-limit hold'em tournament with $250 rebuys and one $250 add-on, I thought it was best to try and use the 90 minute rebuy period to try to accumulate some chips, possibly by taking a few chances here and there. As it turned out, it would be far from easy to build any big pots at my table. In contrast to other tables, people would without exception play a conservative game at my table, and while other tables had big stacks early on, there was relatively little chip movement in my game. I quickly figured out that despite this conservatism of my opponents, there was probably one big edge for me though: Most of the players did not do a lot of raising themselves, but found it hard to get away from any decent holdings once they had decided they would get involved.

The Ace takes control

And that's exactly how I won my first decent-sized pot. In a five-way pot, I got a free play in the big blind with a ten-seven offsuit. With a flop 77J, the small blind bet out $40 into a $100 pot, while having only $40 left. Having a $920 stack myself, I tried to figure out the best way to play this hand. After some deliberation, I decided to raise to $40 more, the exact same amount that the small blind still had left. I had three people behind me still to act, and I was fairly certain that this would look like a 'normal' raise to them, a raise that was aimed to get the bettor all-in and that did not necessarily represent three sevens. The first two players folded, and then I got called by the button, someone I have a pretty good read on. The way he called, it seemed to me that he did not have three sevens or even a full, and that he was not drawing either - from the way he called it seemed to me that he had a jack. His body language told me something like "How can you raise while I am holding the good cards", and usually, this means a fairly strong but not great holding.

When an offsuit nine came on the turn, I decided to check, and my opponent instantly bet $200. Thinking that it was unlikely that my opponent had a better hand than me, but not wanting to blast him out of the pot in case my read had been correct (and thus he was probably drawing to two outs only), I check-raised him $300 more. He thought for a long time and then finally called. When a blank came on the river, I bet my final $340 and, again after long deliberation, my opponent called. My three sevens were good, and I was pleased at myself for the way I had played, for extracting the absolute maximum out of this hand. Most players would probably have either check-raised all-in on the turn or bet out big with this dangerous 77J9 board that had a flush draw as well, out of fear of getting outdrawn. But they would probably not have extracted this extra $640 that I had gotten now! After all, this was a relatively tight player who feared not only this board, but also the player he was up against - me. Yet because I had kept the bets so small for him at all stages in the hand, he now lost his entire stack with cards that he should have known could never be good.

Yet another pot

I then won another pot against this same player - for the sake of this article, let's call him Dave. It was the immediate next hand after this big pot, when the limits had moved up to $20-40 and Dave had just rebought for $1,000 in chips. I was in the $20 small blind. Everybody checked to Dave in the cutoff, who immediately made it $200 to go, acting very strong. I judged this to be an act though, and considering the fact that he a) was in steal position, and b) had just lost his entire stack on the previous hand, it looked like the ace-nine offsuit that I had could well be the best hand on this given deal. I reraised to $1,000, the big blind folded, and much to my surprise Dave instantly threw away his cards as well. And when not much later I won yet another small pot, I had built my stack up to $3,000 at the end of the rebuy period - and after the $1,300 add-on that I did, even to $4,300. Because there had been just one rebuy at our table (the one I mentioned), and because no less than three players declined the add-on option, I was now the chip leader at my table by far - despite the fact that I had just won two or three decent-sized pots. In fact, despite being the chip leader at my table, I had just a tiny bit more chips than the average stack at the tournament. Still, I actually felt pretty pleased and thought I was well-positioned to get far into this tournament - for the following reasons:

I was the chip leader at my table.
I had not made any tricky moves up to this point, and had shown winners when I needed to.
I had a strong image anyway.
Most of my opponents were playing both predictable and scared.

All in all, knowing that quite a few of my opponents were afraid to make any kinds of moves, and on top of that respected both my game and my chip status, my game plan was this: trying to keep chipping away by stealing some small pots, in order to accumulate a truly large stack before the good, dangerous and aggressive players would get moved to our table - in other words, before the relatively weak players at our table would have busted out. But this game plan of mine, while good in itself, failed miserably - as you can see in the second part of this article.

Counting outs (part II)

2007-02-04T22:52:00.000-08:00

Counting outs (part II)
by Rolf Slotboom

As I discussed in the first part of this article, calculating your outs is not always an easy task. In fact, it is very easy to actually make mistakes doing it. Despite the fact that counting your outs correctly is very important to determine your pot odds and whether or not you still belong in the hand, very few poker books have analyzed this aspect of the game the way they should. One of the first books to tackle this problem correctly was Ed Miller in his excellent "Small Stakes Hold'em - Winning Big With Expert Play". He gave a discussion on not just the number of cards that improve your hand, but more importantly how you should estimate what is really important: your actual chances of winning. In order to do this, he introduced the concept of partial outs, cards that improve your hand but that do not give you the nuts and that therefore cannot be counted for full value. On page 101, he wrote:

"You must account for partial outs when you are counting. If you count them for full value, you will overvalue your hand and call too often. If you discount them entirely, you will undervalue your hand and fold too much."

And quoting from page 106:

"Decide how likely each card is to make you a winner. Some cards give you the nuts and are full outs. Others like overcards, that may not be enough to win if hit, or any card that may cause a split pot, should be counted as partial outs."

My regular game

In my regular pot-limit Omaha game, quite a few players obviously have not read this section. On numerous occasions, I have heard my opponents claim things like "Gee, 13 outs twice, how much better can things get", when the situation is entirely different than would appear from their description. Example: A favourite play of mine is to raise or check-raise all-in on the flop with a hand like aces + nut flush draw, especially against semi-coordinated boards like J85 with two of a suit. Now, if I am up against someone with T976, he will often think he has an absolute monster hand (any 4, 6, 7, 9, T or Q completing his hand), and even a smaller wrap like T97x or 976x will often think they have a premium draw. But this is mostly because of the common mistake of thinking only about their own hand, automatically assuming that making their hand equals winning the pot. But there are two problems here:

In a multiway pot, it is quite likely that someone will be in there with a QT9x type of holding. If indeed the player with one of the wrap hands mentioned is up against this "higher" straight draw, then quite a few of the cards that will make his straight, will make his opponent the same straight or even a better one.
Even heads up against my weak-looking aces + nut flush draw, the big wrap is by no means the favorite! If my flush card comes either on the turn or river, then my opponents is entirely dead, and it doesn't matter if he will actually complete his hand at any stage in the hand. And in addition to that, both the card combinations blank / blank and runner / runner full will also give me the pot. This means that while the player with the big wrap will actually think of himself as very unlucky if he loses the pot, it is actually the aces + nut flush draw that has made the correct decision to move in on the flop. For the wrap, it would probably have been better to wait for the turn card to make his move, most of all because he could then have released his hand if the flush card had come. This is an extremely important pot-limit Omaha concept when it comes to playing your draws correctly:

Important pot-limit Omaha concept

If your opponent is probably drawing to a bigger hand than you, it is often best to play your hand in a passive manner on the flop. This way, you can a) get rid of your hand cheaply once the turn card may have completed one of these higher draws, and b) if you actually complete your draw on the turn, you can then charge your opponents to try to outdraw your hand with one card to come. Playing your hand in this seemingly weak manner is more often than not correct if

you are drawing to a straight when your opponent may be drawing to a better one, or:
you have a big straight draw but your opponent is probably drawing to a flush or full house.

Redraws

In pot-limit Omaha, it is always important to be aware of the fact that if your opponent is strong, he may have a lot of redraws, meaning he still has many cards to beat you even if you make your straight on the turn - one of the main reasons why in this game it is especially the straight draws that cause people to make both playing and calculating mistakes. In hold'em, the danger of redraws exists with straight draws as well, but obviously to a lesser degree. Here it is often the one-pair type of holdings who are vulnerable to getting outdrawn on the river. For instance, if you call a bet on the flop with an unimproved ace-king because you judge the bettor has 'just' top pair, you may think that you've got six outs and that based on pot odds, this call is correct. But it is important to take into account the two following things:

The possibility of hitting your hand and still trailing.
The possibility of gaining the lead on the turn and then losing it on the river.

A limit hold'em example

The best example of the problems with counting outs is an example that Mr. Miller gives in his own book, and where it seems that even he falls into the obvious trap of overvaluing the strength of his hand. Why? Well, most of all because he fails to take into account his own concept of partial outs. This is the situation:

On page 123, in what is described by him as a multiway pot, he defines the 32 on a flop Q82 (i.e., bottom pair / low kicker / three high flush draw) as a "strong" hand, a "robust holding", and most importantly: as a fourteen-out draw. Now, in a multiway pot, this can never be correct. When there is significant action on a flop like this, one should always take into account the possibility of being up against a higher flush draw, especially when holding the smallest possible flush cards yourself. This is even more true if you are in a game where lots of people play any two suited cards - which is the case in the type of games Mr. Miller describes. Now, even if you are not up against the higher flush draw that would instantly turn your robust holding into a very poor one, then you still can't count this hand as fourteen pure outs - exactly because of the reasons that the author himself had given in earlier sections. Especially important in this respect are his words from page 106: "Decide how likely redraws are if you make your hand on the turn. Potential redraws devalue your hand." Now in this case it should be clear that regardless of which of your fourteen outs will come on the turn, you will always be up against at least some redraws on the river - and possibly, even a whole lot. So, one should not simply be counting the number of possible good cards, but rather come up with an estimate of the chances of ending up with the best hand on the river. Now, of course this cannot always be counted accurately, but if you have a good read on the cards that your opponents probably hold, for a large part based on the betting up to that point, then it will be easier for you to see whether you still belong in the hand - and if you do, whether you should just call or raise for value.

Some final words

One of the biggest mistakes in poker is confusing your number of outs with the actual chances of winning that you have. Especially those who habitually overestimate their pot odds (saying: "Nine cards out of 45 improve my hand and thus I have a 20% chance of winning"), will be making many costly mistakes. Like in the example mentioned, with the deuce-trey of clubs: If you are up against both a higher flush draw and a set - highly unlikely, but far from impossible - you may even be drawing dead, while you are thinking that you actually hold a premium draw! All in all, counting your outs correctly is not always easy, because it not just involves the mathematics of calculating pot odds. It also includes good reading skills and an evaluation of how the range of possible cards that your opponents could hold might influence the strength of your own cards - either in a positive, or in a negative manner.

Counting outs (part I)

2007-02-04T22:49:00.000-08:00

Counting outs (part I)
by Rolf Slotboom

In board games like hold'em and Omaha, quite a few players are not capable of counting their outs properly. In fact, a whole lot of people don't have a clue what they are actually trying to calculate! On numerous occasions, I have seen people call with hands that had very few effective outs, when the players involved actually thought they had a huge draw. At the same time, there are also people who habitually underestimate the power of their hands - for instance by neglecting the fact that their hand may actually be good right now, and doesn't need any improvement! Let me give two examples, one of each.

Example No. 1

The game:

Pot-limit Omaha

The situation:

Hero is holding JT9x no suits, on a flop Q84 with two hearts. Player A bets the pot, gets called by player B, and then Hero calls as well because "he's got a nine-out draw".

The flaw in his reasoning:

Actually, in this case Hero's reasoning has many flaws. First of all, while he thinks he has nine outs, there are a few cards that complete his straight that at the same time also put a possible flush on the board. And with a pot-sized bet and a call, it is not just remotely possible that a flush draw may be out there - it is actually quite likely. In addition to that, it is quite possible that one of his opponents has at least part of the same straight draw that Hero does, meaning that even if he makes his hand he may still have to split. All in all, it should be clear that while Hero is actually counting his hand as nine full outs, he probably has significantly less good cards than that.

But that is not all there is to it. Perhaps even more importantly, Hero seems to think that hitting one of his outs automatically means winning the pot. But against likely hands for his opponents to hold like a set and / or a flush draw, it is far from certain that if he makes his hand on the turn, it will still be best on the river. After all, his opponents may have a bunch of redraws to beat him. And in addition to that, if they put him on exactly the hand he's got, the nut straight, then they may actually be able to bet him off his hand on the river by taking advantage of a scare card that has fallen - even when that card has not helped them at all.

Example No. 2

The game:

Limit hold'em

The situation:

Hero has raised before the flop with AK. Three people see the flop J84. It gets checked to Hero, who bets, and he gets called in one place. When another four comes on the turn, the one remaining player suddenly bets into him. Hero thinks for a moment and then folds. His reasoning: I've got only six outs, and since this pot is fairly small, I don't get the proper odds to call this bet.

The flaw in his reasoning:

Because he has an unimproved AK with someone betting into him, he automatically assumes that he will need to improve to win. But it is only necessary to count your outs in order to see if you get the proper odds, if in fact you know for a fact that you are behind. And in this case, there is actually a good chance that Hero is holding the best hand, and that it is his opponent who is drawing! While his opponent could have a jack, an eight or a small pocket pair (a four being quite unlikely the way the betting has gone), it is equally possible that his opponent is simply making a move here, using these two fours on the board to bet Hero off his hand. In fact, it is probably more likely that his opponent is bluffing or semi-bluffing here than he is to be betting with the best hand. So, the people who in this situation automatically start looking at their number of outs fail to take into account two simple, but very important factors:

What am I up against?
Do I need any improvement at all?

The correct reasoning

The correct procedure when it comes to counting outs is this. First, you have to analyze the hand(s) that you may be up against, and then weigh the likelihood of your opponent having one specific hand as opposed to the other. Then, if you are almost 100% certain that you don't have the current best hand, you start calculating the number of cards that could give you the best hand - again weighing the chances of improving to the best hand, based upon this previous analysis.* Then, if there are more cards to come, you try to estimate your chances of improving to the best hand on the turn, and then having it hold up on the river. For instance, if you have calculated that on the flop there are about 10 cards in the deck that could give you a possible winner, and based upon the estimate of what you may be up against you judge that you may have 7 or 8 outs effectively (because you may be up against a better draw, because you may hit a card that will improve your opponent more than it improves you, or simply because you think one of your opponents may have an extremely strong hand like a set), then you are ready for the final step. If you think that even if you hit your hand, your opponents may still have a lot of redraws on the river, so they will improve again quite often over the hand you have just made, then you should probably make another adjustment. For instance, if you suspect that your opponents may well have about 13 or 14 outs collectively to redraw against you, then you should probably estimate your draw at about 6 outs instead of the 7/8 you did earlier. So, that means that if either the pot size or the implied odds warrant calling on the flop for a six-outer, then you should do it - and if the odds are not there, you should fold.

* If you think there is a chance of, say, 10% that you may actually have the best hand
even when it seems you are drawing, you should of course take this into consideration.

Of course, there is much more to counting outs than just these few simple steps. In my book "Hold'em On The Come", one that I have co-written with Dew Mason (who is a mathematician, and knows a lot more about odds, figures and calculations than I do), we come up with an excellent and extensive counting method that will make it easy for you to see whether you still belong in the hand. This will take into account the drawing odds and your expectation with two cards to come, as well as for just one card (for instance, if you choose to "take one off" on the flop), and this also takes into account the possibility that your "draw" may actually be the current best hand.

One more thing: In your analysis of potential redraws on the river, it is important to understand the impact of the betting structure of the game you are in. If it's a limit game, you can rest assured that you will get called on the turn if your opponents are drawing to a bigger hand than the one that you have just made. But if you are playing pot- or no-limit and you make your hand on the turn, then in most cases you will be able to bet your opponents off their draws - and you should take this into consideration. This means that in the exact same situation described above, where you analyzed your hand as about 6 outs in a limit game, you may actually have 7 or 7.5 if the betting structure is pot- or no-limit. This is because of the distinct possibility that your opponents will fold their (re)draws to any decent-sized bet that you make on the turn.

Some final words

Counting your outs properly is an extremely complicated matter. In the second part of this article I will dig into the matter a little deeper, by analyzing one of the good counting methods presented in recent poker literature.

The amount of the bet in pot-limit Omaha (2)

2007-02-04T22:45:00.000-08:00

The amount of the bet in pot-limit Omaha (2)
by Rolf Slotboom

This is an edited excerpt from Rolf's brand new "Secrets of Professional Pot-Limit Omaha" book, available at all the major (online) gambling book stores.

In the first part of this article series, I described how you can and sometimes should vary the size of your bets because of the texture of the board. Today, I will how the size of your and your opponents' stack can be of influence in finding the proper bet size.

Aspect 2:
Varying the amount of the bet according to stack size

Your own stack size can be an important consideration in your decision to bet full pot or a lesser amount. In some of my articles on pot-limit poker I advocate having more chips on the table than any other player you figure to make money from, if you know how to handle a big stack. Pot-limit Omaha is a complicated game and playing a big stack makes it even more complicated; playing a large stack requires much more skill than playing a small or medium stack. Now, if for some reason you are playing a small (or medium) stack, then always betting full pot is far from automatic. Let's say you're in a $1,000 buy-in game, and you are in early position (possibly one of the blinds) with a $520 stack. You hold J T 7 7, there's $180 in the pot and six players see the flop J T 6. You figure your top two pair is probably good now, but there are many draws possible, making your hand very vulnerable. In fact, the only good cards on the turn for you are the jacks and tens that are left, as well as any deuce, three, four and five. Betting the pot here would be very unwise, because if any other card comes on the turn than the ones mentioned, you might have to give up the hand. (After all, with just one card to come, you don't get the right odds to call a big bet in order to improve to a full or quads if you think the turn must have made someone a straight. And in that case, you would have wasted $180 - more than one thirds of your total stack - without even getting to the river.)

So, if you decide to bet at all against this flop, then betting $80 would seem like the right amount here, much better than the $180 pot bet. Against this board you can expect two or three callers, assuming that in fact your hand is good now. Now, if the turn is a blank then your $80 flop bet has put you in perfect position to defend your hand as well as possible by betting full pot. But if you had chosen to bet the pot on the flop and got the same callers as you did now, then you could not have defended your hand anymore after this same, good, turn card. There would be $720 in the pot already, so the $420 you had left would not be enough to make a small wraparound straight (or even an open-ender or some kind of combination hand) fold.

Now, let's take another flop: K 7 2 and you're in there with KKxx. There is $400 in the pot, four players and you are playing a $1200 stack. A common scenario would be this: you bet the pot, get one caller, the turn is the third spade and your opponent bets all-in (and you either fold, knowing you're beat now or call, trying to improve on the river). If the before-the-flop betting suggests someone other than you might be in there with aces, you have to consider the possibility of him having the nut-flush draw as well, a hand that is not going to fold against this board no matter how much you bet. So, why not try to make some money with your set when your hand is still good, yet avoid getting broke with it? A $200 bet on the flop would seem reasonable here, especially taking into account the ill-coordinated nature of the flop. (In fact, betting one thirds to half the pot with top set against this board will give you credibility for the many times when you make the same kinds of bets against these ill-coordinated boards as a bluff.) This $200 would be the perfect amount to induce even bare aces to come along for the ride. Perfect for you, that is, as he will probably be drawing to just two outs while getting only 3-to-1 on his money. Also, you would not be giving a flush draw the proper price to call, knowing that the 7 is not even an out for your opponent(s). If the aces decide to play back at you (or if you think you are able to check-raise the before-the-flop raiser all-in), then by all means try to get all your money in on the flop with the nuts, top set. That would be the best possible situation of all, but you can't always expect that to happen - and you definitely can't expect that to happen if you come out with a bet that is too big for this ill-coordinated board.*

So, let's say that indeed you bet half pot, $200. If this $200 bet of yours gets called and the turn is a spade - or, even worse, an ace - you can fold against a big bet and you would have "saved" the extra $200 then.** If there's no danger on the turn, however, you can simply bet the pot if you think it's time to protect your hand as much as possible, or bet a lesser amount if you want your opponent to call you rather than fold. (If you know what your opponent holds, you don't have to fear a river bluff, meaning you could afford to give your opponents a much better price than just the 2-to-1 they get after a pot bet by you. So, you can bet less than the pot and then if a spade or ace comes up, you can safely fold, having "saved" some chips you would not have saved by betting full pot. Also, if by chance you make a full house on the river after your 'small' turn bet, tour opponent may even pay you off now that he has made aces up - so you still double up, despite having bet less than the pot on all streets.) Remember, if you bet $400 on the flop and get called, you don't get the right odds in trying to make a full if you think the turn has made your opponent a flush. You will have to call $800 more for a total pot of $2800 and you would have only ten outs maximum.

All in all, I'm not suggesting you should always bet less than the pot when you're playing a small stack. What I am suggesting is you take a close look at the board, at your (and your opponent's) stack size, so you will then try to find the best strategy to a) maximize your winnings on the hand and b) minimize your losses.

* Quite frankly, in the situation where you have flopped three kings and you suspect the preflop raiser is in there with aces, this would be the perfect situation to go for a check-raise on the flop. Especially if the preflop raiser is not up against too many opponents, he will almost certainly take at least one big stab at the pot now that the board is so uncoordinated. But if you have made the last raise before the flop and thus a) it seems no one has aces, and b) no one will do the betting for you, then it is best to simply come out betting 30 to 50% of the pot rather than full pot. In fact, this is the exact same bet you would also make as a bluff to simply pick up the pot - so you also need to make these kinds of bets when you have flopped a really big hand. So, if you choose to bet at all, it is clear that the half-pot bet is quite superior to the full-pot bet that many players would make with their top set here.

** Having said that, there is obviously some chance that your opponent has called you with his flush draw only because you gave him a good price by betting just half pot - meaning he would have folded against a full pot bet. So, this means you now lose a pot that you would have won with the 'normal' big bet. This "giving your opponent the chance for a cheap outdraw" is one of the clear downsides to this play I suggest. Therefore, you should rarely make this type of bet against more coordinated boards, and / or against boards that have multiple drawing opportunities.

Some final words

The things I've discussed here are in fact common situations where the average player can make (or save) a lot of money. Just make sure that when you decide to sometimes bet less than the pot, you are not giving away information about the strength of your hand. If your opponents can figure out what you hold because of the amount you've bet, they can save money against you when they know you've got the goods, and raise you off your hand when they know you're weak.

The amount of the bet in pot-limit Omaha (1)

2007-02-04T22:43:00.000-08:00

The amount of the bet in pot-limit Omaha (1)
by Rolf Slotboom

This is an edited excerpt from Rolf's brand new "Secrets of Professional Pot-Limit Omaha" book, available at all the major (online) gambling book stores.

Some poker authors have stated that in pot-limit poker, you should not vary the size of your bets, but always bet the same amount (full pot). This way, your bet won't give your opponents information regarding the strength of your hand. There are for instance players who bet full pot on the flop when they have some kind of made hand (set, top two pair), but make a smaller bet when they are on a draw. A good player will always know where he's at when people play like this, and it will be only a matter of time until he gets the money. While it's true that always betting the size of the pot is better than betting according to the strength of your hand (great hand / pot, good hand / half pot, mediocre hand / small bet), it is not the optimum strategy. There are a few situations where betting a smaller amount is sometimes better than betting full pot:

a) when you are playing a small or medium stack,
b) when there are no draws on the board, or
c) when you have bet the pot on the flop and then on the turn the board pairs.

In fact, there are a few (great) players who bet a smaller amount in other situations as well. For instance, Ray Zee's frequent underbetting in big-bet poker has been discussed many times, and as we shall see in this book, I too rarely come out betting full pot. But because playing like this requires advanced theoretical thought processes and the ability to read your opponents perfectly, I won't get into this just yet. I think that for quite a few players it is good to always bet the pot when they decide to bet at all, whether they've got some kind of made hand or a (premium) draw. This way, you:

Don't give away too much information about your hand
Show your opponents you are serious about trying to win the pot, which will make them less apt to play back at you
Are giving your opponents the worst odds in case they try to draw out on you.

Still, if you always bet full pot regardless of the circumstances, you will sometimes face the situation where you'll only get called (or raised) when you're clearly beat, and your betting action will have cost you a lot of money. Sometimes making a smaller bet will send the same message to your opponents (that you probably have the goods) as a full pot bet, and you will save money in the event your hand isn't good.

In this two-part article series, I will analyze two reasons why you can or should sometimes vary the amount of your bet. In this first part, I analyze the texture of the board with regards to this betting size. In the second part, I will analyze both your and your opponents' stack size.

Aspect 1:
Varying the amount of the bet because of the texture of the board

When you have bet the pot on the flop and then the board pairs on the turn

Say the flop comes J84 rainbow. You bet the pot and get called in two places; now the board pairs on the turn. What do you do? A lot of weak players do this: they bet when they are full but check when they only have a draw, fearing someone else may have a full now. Some other players do this: they check when they are full and bet when they have nothing. Both plays are horrible - although the second is not as horrible as the first. The thing to do is to bet small (a bit less than half the pot) whether you have made your hand or not. If you bet with nothing and your opponents are on a draw as well, they are not going to call you and you have (semi-) bluffed them out of the pot at a relatively cheap price. If you do get called, you know you're probably up against a full and you're not going to put any more money into the pot. By always betting like this your opponents will fear your relatively small bet as much as a full pot bet. You might be able to steal an occasional pot by playing like this and if your (semi-) bluff doesn't succeed because your opponent has filled up, well then it was relatively cheap. By betting full pot when the board has paired, the same hands as before are going to fold, but if you get called (and thus are beat) you've cost yourself a lot more money than necessary.

Playing against an ill-coordinated board

When the flop comes something like J96 with two of a suit, you know your opponents may have flopped some pretty powerful draws. But if the flop comes K83 or Q72 rainbow, there are no draws. If you bet a hand like top two pair or a small set (or maybe even a lesser hand) against this board, you'll usually get called only when someone has you beat whether you have bet the pot or not. A lot of good players always bet one thirds to half the pot against flops like these, whether they have a set or not.* By playing like this they are able to steal quite a few pots without putting a lot of money at risk. And if they do get called (or raised) by an obviously big hand, they may be able to get away from their hand cheaply. So, the "half-pot" strategy against these types of boards gives them information at a cheap price, and helps them steal small pots at a cheap price - a very good combination. Only once the opposition becomes more knowledgeable, and only once you start running into players who use this type of thinking too, will this strategy lose a lot of its value.

* Don't even think about checking a small set here. You're not going to give free cards in this game; just bet small and pick up the pot but don't try to get fancy by letting your opponents catch up. The only hand you could afford to check here is top set, because then the free card could make one of your opponents a very good but costly second-best hand. Even then, I usually prefer betting with a big hand over checking, for the simple reason that you want your opponents to know that you also bet your monsters aggressively in situations where slowplaying would have some merit.

Some final words

In the second part of this series, I will analyze the second aspect: Your and your opponents' stack size as a reason to sometimes vary the size of your bets.

Starting Hand Selection & Stack Size (part II)

2007-02-04T22:38:00.000-08:00

Starting Hand Selection & Stack Size (part II)
by Rolf Slotboom

In the first part of this article, I analyzed that with a very marginal pot-limit Omaha holding like KK83 with no suits, it is sometimes correct to see a flop with a medium stack, but not always when playing either a small stack (<25>100 times the big blind). I will now discuss two more hands and the impact of stack size on the preferred play. Note that we are discussing cash game strategy, not tournament play.

Hand No. 2: 9876 rainbow (no suits)

This is the sort of hand that good pot-limit Omaha players have come to appreciate, because under certain circumstances this type of holding can be very profitable. Again, just as in the KK83 example from last time, this is mostly when you are playing a medium stack, say in the range of 45 to 75 times the big blind in an unraised pot. In fact, with a stack of about 100xBB, you could even call a raise with this holding, especially if you are up against a weak player who a) almost certainly has a big pair, and b) has a tendency to overplay that big pair. But with a small stack, say anywhere from 20 to 30 times the big blind, you should not be that eager to get involved with this 9876 - not even in an unraised pot. With a small stack, your goal should usually be to play for all your money, or not play at all. An exception with this hand may be calling on the button in an unraised, multiway pot - that may actually be worth it. This is because this hand has quite a bit of nut potential, and can make quite a bit of money after the flop, provided you can see this flop cheaply. But in early and middle position it should almost always be folded, even when there's been no raise. Why? Well, I would say because the texture of your hand and the size of your stack just don't make for a very good combination:

As in the previous article: You don't want to invest a relatively large percentage of your stack by calling the initial bet when you know you will have to fold if the pot gets raised behind you - and being in early or middle position, the probability of the pot getting raised behind you may actually be quite high.
Even if the pot does not get raised, you will still get a lot of problem flops with this hand: hands like pair + gutshot, a good straight draw but against a two-suited board, trips with three low kickers, bottom two pair + straight draw on the ignorant end - all hands that are dangerous if many players have seen the flop cheaply. You will make a lot of second-best hands especially if relatively weak holdings like JT86 double-suited are still in the pot - and in multiway, unraised pots it is very probable that these kinds of hands are still in.
Because you are playing a short stack, you don't have enough strength (or better, not enough money) to seriously hurt your opponents and / or to pave the way for a successful bluff or semi-bluff. While with deeper money, this type of holding has a lot of playing advantages for instance when up against a big pair (mostly because you usually know where you're at while your opponent does not, and thus you can put lots of pressure on him even when you don't hold much yourself), with short money you don't have this luxury. Your opponent will simply put you all-in to see whether you have him beat or not, and the only way for you to win the pot is to have the best hand at the showdown.

So, it is clear that this type of holding (if it has no suits, that is; with suits you can play this hand much more strongly!) cannot be played very often with a short stack, and can often be played with a medium stack - now, how about deep money? Well, with deep money this can be a very dangerous and tricky hand that has quite a few actual playing disadvantages:

You are often playing to make a straight, while your opponents may be drawing to a flush or a full house. This means that making your straight on the turn is not the same as winning the pot: Your opponents may have a bunch of redraws.
What you would like most with this type of holding is to make your hand on the turn (most likely a straight) and then bet all-in to make your opponents pay to draw out, and to avoid headache on the river. But when the money is deep, there will usually be a lot of money left on the river even after a pot-sized turn bet. Now, it should be clear that if you make the nut straight on the turn with these small / medium cards of yours, that there will be a whole lot of possible river cards that will leave you without the nuts, creating higher straights, flushes and / or full houses. This carries the danger of either paying off with the worst hand, or throwing away the winning hand. (Both of these possibilities are even more likely to happen when you are in bad position with this type of holding. When playing deep money, you should be very reluctant to play these no suits small and medium rundowns if one or more opponents may have position on you. Reserve these hands strictly for on the button, and possibly the cutoff.)

All in all, what we have here is a situation where a hand is often playable with a medium stack, sometimes even against a raise, while this exact same hand should usually be folded for just a single bet with either very deep or very shallow money. Strange, yes - but undoubtedly correct.

Hand No. 3: AAAJ rainbow (no suits)

This is the type of holding I have talked about before: three aces in the hand. Let's say you are playing a $420 stack and are in the $10 big blind. It gets raised to $30, one player calls, and now the button raises to $120. What should you do? Well, you should reraise all-in of course! Even though you have a bad and uncoordinated holding, if you can turn this pot into a heads up contest, you will almost always be a favorite. What's more, against the most likely types of holdings for the button to hold (quality hands like KKTT or AKQJ) you will even be a big favorite. Add to this the dead money in the pot from people folding, and it should be easy to see that this is a situation with a clear positive expectation.

With deep money, a hand like AAAJ with no suits can almost never be played. With a medium stack, you might occasionally want to call one bet to take a flop or to see if maybe a profitable situation will present itself. But usually, the more money you've got in front of you, the more you should try to protect it by avoiding marginal hands or situations that can easily get you into a lot of trouble.

So here, in contrast with the previous two hands, we have a hand that may sometimes be worth your entire stack when the money is shallow, yet not be worth even a single bet when the money is deep.

Conclusion

Playing a short stack

In general, things are simple when it comes to hand selection and finding profitable situations. To make a stand with a short stack, you should usually have a hand of at least some power like a big pair, or else hands that have some high-card potential and suits, meaning you will have multiple ways to hit your hand. This second factor is usually more important than the nut potential of your hand - that is a factor that becomes increasingly important once the money gets deeper. Anyway, depending on both the looseness and the aggressiveness of your opponents, hands as weak as AJT8 single-suited and KJJ8 double-suited may be good enough to go all-in before the flop with when you are playing a short stack. But at the same time, you should avoid hands like 6543: speculative holdings that rely on implied odds and that don't hit very often, despite the fact that they do have quite a bit of nut potential. With these hands and a short stack, you should usually not even call the initial bet.

Playing a medium / large stack

With medium stacks, you can often play some more speculative holdings (for instance, the 6543 mentioned above), especially when you are in position and / or are up against weak players who you can outplay easily. Because of this, hands like 9877 are almost always playable when playing a medium stack, especially when your opponents have a tendency to overplay their big pairs. But this same 9877 should be played with caution once the money is very deep. If you are actually playing it, you want to do it only in one of the following situations:

In position, heads up against a weak player who is marked with a big pair.
On the button, and being the aggressor in the hand.

Note that with very deep money you will usually want to play these middle cards in raised pots only, when you have a pretty good clue as to what you are up against. The reason to sometimes raise with these hands rather than call (remember, only when you have good position), is that your opponents may read you for a big pair / high card type of holding. You may profit from this either by a) bluffing or semi-bluffing them out of the pot because of a scary board, or by b) having them play back at you when it seems to them that the board may be bad for you - but when in fact you have hit the whopper.

Some final words

While quality hands like JT98 double-suited, KQJT double-suited and aces with suits perform well in all cases, it is the marginal hands that may sometimes be profitable under certain circumstances, while being unprofitable under others. If you learn to distinguish between these situations, you will have a big edge over the (many) players who are oblivious to this, and who treat every single situation just about the same.

Starting Hand Selection & Stack Size (part I)

2007-02-04T22:35:00.000-08:00

Starting Hand Selection & Stack Size (part I)
by Rolf Slotboom

Introduction

A lot has been written about the influence of the number of chips in front of you on the hands you can and should play. Almost without exception, these writings are about tournament play. After all, it should be clear that in tournaments, those who only look at the quality of their cards when making the decision whether or not to play, and who don't take into account the size of their and their opponents' stacks, will perform significantly worse than the people who do make these adjustments.

But this article that you are reading now is not about tournament play - it is about the relation between stack size and hand selection when it comes to money play. While in the past the majority of the cash games would always be limit, this meant that almost all literature that discussed cash game poker was written from the viewpoint of limit play, and the good big-bet strategies were almost always analyzed from a tournament setting, not cash. But because of the recent growth of big-bet cash games, both in brick and mortar casinos as well as online, it is time to re-evaluate some of this old big-bet tournament literature and to dig into specific cash game strategies for big-bet play. That's what I'll do in this two-part article series. I will discuss a couple of pot-limit Omaha starting hands, and I will try to analyze how the size of your stack can have a major impact on the playability and potential profitability of some of these hands. I will show that some hands should often with big stacks but not with small stacks - and sometimes the other way around as well. Note that the information I provide is not always easy to digest, and to my knowledge not too much has appeared in print about this specific issue before. But if you want to become successful in big-bet cash games, it is absolutely imperative to understand the concepts that I discuss here. In this two-part article, I will analyze three specific starting hands in my favorite game, pot-limit Omaha, and the impact of the stack sizes on the best course of action - not just before the flop, but also later in the hand. It goes without saying that the underlying concepts I will share with you are not just for PLO; they are equally important for other big-bet games like pot- and no-limit hold'em.

Hand No. 1: KK83 rainbow (no suits)

Now, while most people who come from a hold'em background would think this is a premium hand, all good Omaha players know that this actually is a piece of cheese, because it has no suits and is totally uncoordinated - the pair of kings being just about the only value. Having said that, the hand does have some strength, and if you manage to flop a third king then you are usually in a very powerful position - especially when you are in a multiway pot and / or are up against relatively weak opposition.

This means that if you are holding a medium stack (say, between $500 and $800 in a game with $10-10 blinds, or in other words with a stack size of 50-80 times the big blind) and the opposition is not too tough, there is nothing wrong with calling from middle or late position in an unraised pot to see the flop cheaply. After all, you know that if you don't flop a king, you will almost certainly be out, and you will not put a single chip in the pot anymore from then on. But is is worth seeing this flop because if you do hit, you may very well win a big pot - as I said, especially if the pot is multiway and the opposition is rather weak.

But if you are playing a small stack (say anywhere from $150 to $250, or less than 25xBB), then this preflop call may not be so automatic actually. This is especially true if it is probable that the pot gets raised behind you. So, what this means is that with a small stack, holding this KK83 no suits, you might want to call on or near the button in an unraised pot, but not in early or middle position, because if you call now and the pot gets raised behind you, you will probably have to forfeit your bet - a bet that accounts to a fairly high percentage of your stack.* With a medium stack you could have made this call profitably from these early and middle positions, because now if the pot gets raised behind you, this investment you will have lost is a much smaller percentage of your total stack. Remember, in big-bet poker you are always looking for opportunities to double through. Or to be more precise: especially with relatively shallow money you should usually try to play for your entire stack when you decide to get involved. In other words, you should often play for all your money or don't play at all. In cases like this, risking 5% of your stack with a very speculative holding is a definite no-no, especially if there is a reasonable chance that despite this 5% investment you may not even get to see the flop.

In some cases, when playing a short or very short stack, it may actually be worth it to go all-in preflop even with a hand this raggedy. This is especially true if you are in a game with highly aggressive players who may give you "protection", either before or after the flop. They may bet very aggressively with marginal holdings to blast everyone out of the pot, in order to reach the river cheaply and maybe get lucky against the all-in player (you). What this means for you is that with all the dead money in the pot, you are almost certainly a big money favorite - despite these crummy cards you are holding. In fact, heads up against one player only, your KK83 may actually be a clear favorite over the hand that your opponent is betting and raising with!

What does all of this mean?

Now, what this means is that this exact same hand KK83 should often be folded with a short stack and can often be called with a medium stack - now, then logic says we can almost always play it when holding a big stack, right? Well, not really. Because of the following conditions, playing this hand can sometimes be profitable if you have a medium stack - but actually unprofitable when playing a large stack (say, more than 100xBB).

If you flop top set with a stack of 50xBB or so, you will almost never make a terrible mistake by putting in your entire stack on the flop. Even if you are up against a made straight or a completed flush, you may well have up to 7 outs on the flop and up to 10 outs on the turn to still win the pot. Especially with the dead money in the pot already, you will almost never make a serious mistake, and if you are up against more than one opponent, you are usually in a clear +EV situation - even if one, or even both opponents have your three kings beat at this stage.
But if the money is deeper, then the dead money in the pot accounts to a much smaller percentage of the total pot size. With a medium stack and a flop KQJ, you would not be that reluctant to put in all your money on the flop, knowing that even of you are up against the nut straight, you will still win the pot a significant percentage of the time, and in fact because of the dead money in the pot, putting in your money may actually be the mathematical correct play. But with a very large stack, it will worry you to put in all the money if you just have, say, anywhere from 24 to 42% chance of winning! If you make a mathematically unsound decision when playing deep money, then the penalty will be very severe. So, flopping the third king with a large stack is not the same through ticket that it usually is with a short or medium stack. And because of this, an uncoordinated hand like KK83 - that has only one way to hit and that even when it hits has no back-up whatsoever - is usually a clear fold in deep-money play.

Some concrete examples of the problems / difficulties for this KK83 in deep-money play

Let's dig into this matter a little deeper, by analyzing the troubles you may face when playing a big stack - even when you have flopped the hand you wanted: top set.

Let's say the flop is KT6 with two of a suit. You bet the pot in middle position and get called by the button. The turn is an offsuit nine - a card that may or may not have helped your opponent. Let's say there is $220 in the pot, and both you and your opponent have $1,200 left. It should be clear that this is a very tough situation for you. If your opponent is a good player, and has the hand reading abilities to put you on the hand that you actually have (top set), then he may be able to either make you fold the best hand by semi-bluffing you off your hand. Or when in fact he has made his straight, he may be able to lure you into calling or even raising with a hand that has only few outs to improve. From this simple example, it should be obvious that with deep money, the draw in position has some clear playing advantages against the made hand out of position. You should take these factors into consideration before your actual decision whether or not to get involved with your hand. After all, it makes no sense to play a crummy hand in order to flop a king - only to see yourself get into serious trouble once that third king has actually flopped.
In the exact same situation, with the same two players and the same KT6 flop, let's say that something good happens for you now: the board pairs on the turn. Even though you probably have a lock, it may be hard for you to make any money now that your opponent knows he may be drawing dead. While checking might work against some players in order to induce a bluff, if your opponent has a good read on you and knows you probably have top full, you may not get much more money out of him. But if the turn is a blank, and again you bet the pot ($220) and get called, well then on the river you will face the same unpleasant situation as in the first example. Almost any river card will be scary with all the straight and flush possibilities, and if your opponent is a good player than he may very well lure you intro making the wrong decision. And if the board pairs, then again you may not make a lot of money. Because of all this, you may end up winning a relatively small pot in this situation when your hand remains good, but when the final pot gets extremely large, then you will lose a rather high percentage of the time.

Conclusion

With deep money, this KK83 is usually playable only when you are in position, and when the opposition is fairly weak. You will usually need a hand like KKJ9 single-suited to make a profitable call when your position is not great, because then you would have the possibility to flop top set with redraws, which will allow you to play the hand more strongly. Also, if indeed you flop top set, you may now have at least some blocker cards against the straight draws that your opponents may have. And having just one or two of these cards to block them, may actually make the difference between a profitable draw for your opponents and an unprofitable one. You should take all these factors into account before making the first, seemingly easy, decision to play or not. Knowing in advance the characteristics of a hand with regards to the size of your stack and the potential problems later in the hand, knowing this in advance is absolutely crucial in order to play big-bet poker in a successful manner.

Some final words

In the second part of this article, I will analyze two more hands that can sometimes be played for a profit with certain stack sizes, but not with others. To be more concrete, I will analyze the medium rundown 9876 with no suits, and the rather strange-looking AAAx - a hand that causes quite a few Omaha players many problems.

The psychological and financial dynamics of playing online

2007-02-04T22:33:00.000-08:00

The psychological and financial dynamics of playing online
by Rolf Slotboom

Over the years, a lot of poker pros - myself included - have made the transition from live play to playing online. In previous articles, I have discussed some of the necessary changes when it comes to strategic issues. Today, I will discuss two things that are quite different, and that are mental more than anything else probably: the psychological and financial dynamics of playing online.

Many poker writers have talked about how much more difficult it is to pull off a successful bluff online as it is in live play, simply because for the opposition a call is just a mouse click away. I agree with this analysis, but would like to take things one step further, and look at the psychological processes within ourselves, rather than within others. Because most good players - again, myself included - would hate it if other players would see us starting to play badly, getting unglued, or beginning to steam, this means that in live poker games the social pressure of others has a tendency to keep us in line. Because we want to live up to the expectations of our regular opponents and sometimes even our friends, we try to stay focused and keep playing good poker even when actually we may start running a little hot. But online, this pressure of others does not exist, or at least not to the same degree, because here nobody can see us. In fact, even if there are people there who know us, we can always claim later that it was someone else playing on our account, or we could easily find some other excuse to help us save our face.

But the consequence of all this is that online even very good players are just more likely to have their game deteriorate because of this "nobody-sees-me-anyway" phenomenon.

Good players getting busted

Because I am involved in many different projects in Europe and the U.S., both on and off the tables, I often get some inside information that 'normal' people don't always get. This includes information about some very famous players, for instance their leaks, their weaknesses, their bad habits etc. A couple of weeks ago, it was brought to my attention that a young player who had been doing pretty well over the past two years, someone who could even be labelled one of the rising stars in international poker, was now broke. He was said to have been playing in some rather big games, while his total bankroll was a mere $200,000. And just the other day, I heard that one of the bigger stars in American poker was down to the felt as well. A friend of mine had seen him play in some (for this star) fairly small games, and had asked him: "Man, what is the matter with you. Are you broke or what?" And as frank as anyone can be, this star had answered: "Well, yes, to tell you the truth I am. I had been playing in some extremely big games with a bankroll of just $2 million. A few beats later, this money was all gone, so I now have to rebuild things again."

Now of course for good or very good players there is no shame in going broke, as they will be able to get back on their feet again in no time - either by themselves, or with the financial help of others who recognize their abilities. And while some of these players who go broke do of course have themselves to blame playing in games that were too high for their bankroll, it is also clear that the characteristics of online poker just make going broke so much easier. Why? Well, in part this is, as we have just seen, because of this tendency to get hot when playing online. But also the games are very fast, there are many big or very games available, and good players have a tendency to even play some of these very big games simultaneously. And probably most importantly: in contrast to someone who takes a limited amount of cash to a brick and mortar casino, online players usually have a very high percentage of their total bankroll available for play - again, just a mouse click away. This means that if things run bad for them, they may run really bad, and it is not unusual for good players who have suffered a couple of tough beats in the really big games, to dig a hole so deep that before they have realized it, they have put their entire bankroll at risk.

Two lessons

In my view, there are two lessons here:

1. Just like in brick and mortar play: Don't play above your bankroll. Keep in mind that online things go much faster and that especially if you multitable, both your upswings and your downswings may be much bigger. Don't overestimate your edge in a game, and make sure that when you err you err on the side of caution. Better to be playing in a game that is actually a bit too small for you than one that is a little too big for you to handle.
2. Try to get yourself in a mindset that you simply always play your best game, that you are simply ashamed of yourself if you are playing badly. You should not need the social pressure of others to keep you in line: You should be able to keep yourself in line, regardless of whether or not other people will actually catch you playing badly.
If you can hold on to these two lessons, you may not make as much money as some of the big players occasionally make. But you should be able to make a decent and steady income over time without any serious downswings, and with little risk of ever going broke. And while some of the absolute top pros may not appreciate this kind of thinking much, for most normal human beings, financial security is simply a very important issue. So, those of you who put a lot of weight to this in a regular casino, should not suddenly start to neglect it when playing online. Those who are negligent in this area, may well be in for a rude surprise.

Two drawing hands

2007-02-04T22:29:00.001-08:00

Two drawing hands
by Rolf Slotboom

Hand No. 1: Middle pair plus nut flush draw - Now, what to do?

Recently, while waiting for my regular big pot-limit Omaha (PLO) game to start, I was playing in a $10-20 limit hold'em game. I got involved in a hand with someone who was killing time waiting for our big game as well, an aggressive and creative player who doesn't like me much, but who respects and fears my play a lot. In the cutoff, I found the A 9 . With three callers, I often would have decided to raise for value, but as the tight under-the-gun (UTG) player could have limped with a bigger ace than mine or some other premium hand, I did not want to escalate the pot at this point. I called, the button and small blind folded, and then my fellow PLO player in the big blind raised. Everyone called, as did I. Five players in the pot, total pot size $105.

Now, for this player to raise out of the big blind with the tight UTG player in and especially with me in (as I said, someone he respects and fears a lot), I knew he probably had a big hand: A-Q minimum, but more likely A-K or a big pair. So, when the flop came Q-9-4 with two spades and he bet into the field, I was pretty sure he had at least one big pair now - a hand that would certainly beat my current middle pair + nut flush draw.

When all three players called the bet, it was up to me. What was my best course of action - call, because I am currently behind, or raise, because I have a premium draw and am getting great odds? Well, this was an easy decision, of course: I raised. Using the counting outs system described in this book, I probably had nine pure flush outs (unless of course the bettor had top set, but even though this was possible it was not very likely), plus maybe an additional three or four outs for improving to two pair or better - all in all, say, about 12 outs total. (I was of course hoping that in this case the flop bettor had K-K instead of the slightly weaker A-Q he could also hold, as this would buy me some additional outs: any ace on the turn would now give me an almost certain winner, instead of costing me a whole lot of money.) I indeed raised, the flop bettor re-raised, two of the initial callers now called again, and I capped the betting at $40. Total pot size after the flop: $275.

To make a long story short, I caught a third nine on the turn, got called in two places on both the turn and river, and indeed my three nines were good. When the dealer pushed me the pot, my fellow PLO player flashed his cards to his neighbor, saying: "See how lucky this fella is. I read him perfectly for being on a flush draw, I make him pay the maximum for trying to draw out, and yet again he gets away with it. It's just not fair."

What this player forgot was that even though indeed he had the current best hand when the money went in, I was actually a clear money favorite. I needed to have only 25% pot equity for my bets from that point on to have a positive expectation, and it should be clear that even in this four-way field I would probably have won the pot well over 40% of the time. So, this meant that even though I knew I was currently behind, I would have been willing to put in as many chips as possible into the pot-provided that both other players would stay in as well-because every bet would theoretically make me money! Now, while my opponent had probably made the right decision as well to re-raise on the flop (with a hand like A-Q or K-K he would probably have about 30 to 35% pot equity, and indeed he did need to charge the others for the privilege of drawing out), he forgot to acknowledge the fact that I also had the odds in my favor. As it happened, we were both making money in this hand - at the expense of the other two players.

Hand No. 2: The almost exact same situation. Should we play it the same as well?

It is interesting to note that just 30 minutes before this hand, I had played almost exactly the same hand in an entirely different manner. Again in the cutoff, this time with two weak callers in front of me, I had A 8 and decided to raise it up to $20 this time. The big blind called and four players saw the flop, total pot: $85.

The flop came J-6-4 with two spades, again giving me the nut flush draw. It was checked to the third player, a young man who was very inexperienced and quite easy to read. He had not made any bets up to that point and had been playing very passively, but now he could not wait to get his chips in. Acting very confused, he actually put no less than four $10 chips into the pot, while the betting limit was of course just one chip.

Now, while often it would seem normal to go for the semi-bluff raise being in position with my nut flush draw, and thereby possibly giving myself a free card on the turn (and possibly gaining myself two extra outs when the bettor would have a pair of jacks for instance, if by raising I could get someone to fold a bigger ace than mine - so that if an ace would come on the turn or river I would now win the entire pot), in this case I just flatcalled. I was fairly certain that this young guy had just hit the whopper, and equally certain that by raising I would a) make the other two players fold their hands, and b) give my opponent the chance to re-raise - a chance he would undoubtedly take. Because both these things would be bad for my expectation in this hand, I made a play that most "good" players would consider weak-tight: just calling, hoping to get paid off only when I hit my hand.

The turn again went bet-call, and when I made the nuts on the river by catching a third spade, the young man again bet, I raised, he re-raised and I re-raised again, with him finally calling. I had gotten him to do what I had expected him to do: pay me off once I had improved over his obviously good hand, keeping the initial costs low, and taking advantage of the fact that he probably would not recognize the flush possibility on the board once the third spade had hit.

But in hand no. 1, I had done exactly the opposite. I had made as many raises as possible early in the hand, knowing I was currently behind, but knowing I would be getting a great return on my investment - not by waiting until I had found improvement, but quite the contrary: by putting in the chips before making my hand.

The point

So, you ask, what is the point of all this? Well, the point is that at all times you should look at more factors than just your number of outs. You should take into account what your opponents probably hold, and how they will respond to any action you may make - both now, as well as on the later streets. And from there you should then try to find the proper balance between minimizing your investments and maximizing your rewards, in order to make the play with the highest expected value.

Two drawing hands

2007-02-04T22:29:00.000-08:00

Analyzing the strength of a draw

2007-02-04T22:26:00.000-08:00

Analyzing the strength of a draw
by Rolf Slotboom

It is my experience that very few players are capable of counting their outs and analyzing the strength of their hand in a correct manner. This is not just at the low limits, even when playing for higher stakes you will find that many players just don't know where they are standing in a hand.

Overestimating the strength of a draw

For instance, just the other day a hand came up where someone I've known for a very long time (let's call him Dave), complained that "his premium draws just never got there". He had J 10 , on a flop K-Q-7 with two clubs. He had gotten into the middle of a raising war, with one player holding K-Q for top two pair, and the other A 10 for the nut flush draw plus a gutshot. When Dave lost the pot, he claimed that "every time he had a draw of eight outs or more with two cards to come, he might as well give up immediately, as it would never come." According to his reasoning, he had eight outs twice - 16 cards total. And with just 43 unknown cards left in the deck, he judged this as a highly profitable situation, where he was a clear money favorite.

But he wasn't. He was probably right to stay in the hand because of the money that was in the middle already and the odds that he was getting, but no way was it good for him that the betting on the flop and turn had gotten extremely heavy. Why? Well, first of all he did not have eight outs. Because the aggressive postures of both of his opponents should have made clear that there was definitely a flush draw out there, he couldn't realistically have thought that the ace of clubs and the nine of clubs were outs - in fact, it was almost a certainty that the ace of clubs was not in the deck anymore, but in one of the players' hands. So, he probably should have estimated his hand as six clean outs, not eight.

But that's not all there is to it. When analyzing the strength of his hand, this player made the common mistake of thinking that completing his draw automatically meant winning the pot. And as we shall see, this is not the case at all. The fact is, that in this hand both of his opponents were drawing to bigger hands than he was. Any jack would give the ace-high flush draw a straight that was larger than the one he was drawing to, any club would have completed a flush, and any king or queen would create a full house for the person who currently had top two pair. This meant that if one of these cards would appear on the turn, for what is called a "lockout", Dave would actually be drawing dead with his straight draw. And even if he would make his nut straight on the turn, then his opponents would still have a bunch of "redraws" on the river, simply because they were drawing to bigger hands than the one he had just made.

Because of all this, he did not have a premium draw at all. In fact, it was his opponents who were putting in their money correctly by jamming the pot, one of them holding the current best hand, and the other one getting good odds with his premium draw. So, even though Dave actually has years of playing experience, he still did not see (or did not want to see) that this situation was not as good as he analyzed it to be: that in fact it was his opponents who were making money in this hand - at his expense!

Underestimating the strength of a draw

This was an example of someone who grossly overvalued the strength of his draw. But a while ago, I was criticized myself for allegedly making this mistake. Here is what happened.

With KQ and three limpers in front of me, I had raised on the button. When both players called, six players saw the flop J-9-2 with one diamond. The small blind bet out, and immediately got raised by the big blind. All others folded to me. Now, while I was contemplating what to do, the small blind had not noticed I was still in the hand, and simply called the raise out of turn. I now decided to cold-call the raise as well, to see the turn for two small bets.

When in the end I won the pot, someone criticized me for calling this raise on the flop. He said: "You always claim to be so hot with your articles and all, but here you called not one but two bets with nothing more than an inside straight draw. This was clearly a bad play, because no way did you get the proper odds to pay this much with a mere gutshot."

Again, this player failed to analyze the strength of a hand correctly. After all, my hand was not just a gutshot. When the small blind did not three-bet, I thought there was a good chance that he just had a one-pair hand, and the flop raiser didn't need to have better than one pair either - even though of course this was a distinct possibility. What all of this meant for my hand, was that there now was actually some chance that hitting a king or queen would also be good enough to win the pot, in addition to the ten that would of course give me the nuts. What's more, I also had a backdoor flush draw, to give my hand some more added strength.

Now, if I had not known that the small blind would just call, I might actually have folded, because of two reasons:

"The pot could get raised again, meaning I would have to pay three, possibly four bets to see the turn.
"If indeed I would call the two bets cold and then the small blind would pop it once more, then I would know that hitting a king or queen on the turn would almost certainly not be good enough to win the pot, meaning that in that case I would have put three or four small bets in the pot with not much more than a gutshot - a play with a clearly negative expectation.

But now, the mistake that this player made by prematurely showing his intentions, actually helped me in making a profitable call by correctly analyzing what my opponent's call may have meant for the strength of my draw, or more specifically for the strength of my overcards. The fact that there were already 12 small bets in the pot before the flop, and that on the flop I called two bets for a total pot size of 18 bets, meant that folding the hand at that stage would have been an absolutely horrible decision - yet to the player who criticized me, it seemed that this would have been the proper play.

Play a night of poker with me (part II)

2007-02-04T22:24:00.000-08:00

Play a night of poker with me (part II)
by Rolf Slotboom

In the first part of this article, I shared with you some hands I played and some decisions I made in my regular pot-limit Omaha game (buy-in $500, blinds $10 and $10). Playing a short stack / move in early strategy to take advantage of the somewhat overly aggressive players on my left, I lost six buy-ins in less than three hours of play and was down $3,000. Not only had I gotten a bunch of hands that hadn't held up, I had also made one or two decisions that I wasn't really pleased with. Perhaps just as importantly, it was clear that my opponents would fear me a lot less than they normally do (having seen me lose more pots in one night than usually in an entire week), and that my lucky image had been torn to threads – at least on this day. In fact, a friend of mine came over to me to with some genuine friendly advice. He said to me: “Rolf, when it's not your night, and you just cannot win no matter what you do, then it may be better to simply give it up. I have never seen you lose so many pots, so if I were you I would simply go home and come back another day.” At the same time, I knew that my opponents at the table could smell my blood. They know that even when I'm buying in for a large stack, I am hardly ever down six buy-ins, and know this had happened to me by buying in for the minimum! But as it was, Lady Luck had some plans with me for the rest of the night – and as it happened, fortunately for me, she had some good intentions this time.

Lucky break for the Ace

I am in early position with A864 double-suited, a decent but far from great hand, and I again make my standard raise to $20. Two players call and then the button makes it $100 to go. I don't really like this, but because I probably have a pretty good hand against some of his likely hands to hold (KKxx, QQxx, AQJ9 or something similar), and also because I am getting pretty good odds to see the flop, I decide to follow the small blind's example and call the raise. But then the player behind me reraises pot, and within seconds three or four players have their entire stacks in. With all this money in the middle staring me in the face, being in for $100 already and having to call ‘only' $380 more, and because in a multiway pot against my opponents' most likely hands I am probably not in terrible shape, there is no way back for me now and I put my money in, even though I don't really like it. But when I make the nut flush, I do like it, and with suddenly about $2,400 in chips again, things look quite a bit better now than a few moments ago.

Then, on the immediate next hand, I get two red aces double-suited. Because I now have deeper money, I make it $40 to go instead of my usual $20, and three people call me. Flop: AJ8 all spades, giving me top set with my three aces, but anyone with just two spades would beat me already. I check, and then the person on my immediate left bets $120. Now, since this player has lost a significant part of his stack in this previous pot, I know him well enough to know that he will become a lot more liberal in both his calling and his betting requirements. So, I do not automatically give him credit for the nuts now – which I might have done just a few minutes ago. Everybody folds, and it is now up to me. If I decide to call, it will not be hard for my opponent to see that I've got three aces, meaning that it will be very easy for him to make the correct decisions on the turn and river. But because I feel that he doesn't have the nut flush, and because he knows that I might well hold the nut-flush (after all, a raise with something like KQJ9 double-suited would be common), I decide to put him to the test. I check-raise the maximum, and after a few seconds he announces: “Well, then this is probably no good”, and folds his nine-high flush. I have semi-bluffed my experienced opponent off his hand and have won my second pot of the night, not just because of the my cards but because of the way I played them – even though with my opponent's current state of mind, it was a very dangerous move for me to make.

The Ace is on a roll now

Some 45 minutes later I manage to win another pot. With J887, the jack-seven suited in diamonds, I have flatcalled on the button and then paid off a large raise by the person on my immediate left – who I put on 100% pure aces this time. (I have a pretty good read on this player, and I almost always know whether or not he has a real quality hand or is just trying to represent one.) Because he has lost one or two other pots after our last encounter, he is now relatively shortstacked, and he bets all-in on the flop J65 rainbow for about $300. When one player in the middle calls, I decide that I want this player out in order to play heads up against the all-in player to see the turn and river card for free, so I raise the maximum. I don't succeed immediately, as the caller now calls my large raise too, but when an offsuit four comes on the turn he does surrender, and with my nut straight I win yet another pot. Suddenly, I am in the lead with more money in front of me than the $3,500 I bought in for, something I could only have wished for an hour ago, when I was completely down and out. So, proud as I am that I have been able to make this kind of turnaround without really pushing things – albeit by getting lucky with two relatively marginal hands – I begin to think that I might be able to start my holiday in a more pleasant state of mind after all.

Preparing for the Final Battle

Little do I know that the climax of this night is yet to come! In the big blind, I pick up KK84 single-suited, and decide to flatcall an early position player's $40 raise. The player on my immediate left, who has obviously been affected by all the pots he just lost, and who has called my $10 blind without looking at his cards, now reraises the maximum, trying to act very strong. Because I have played with him on so many occasions, I know that he would raise in this situation simply in order to build a big multiway pot, not necessarily because he holds a big hand – much less aces. When four (!) people call his big raise but no one raises all-in, I know that it is highly unlikely that any of the players is in there with aces. I decide that calling is no option and come over the top once more for a total of $1,600. Because no one has more than $2,200 in chips and because it is clear that everybody is pot-committed anyway, we all simply put all our chips in the middle, knowing that at least one of us is going to be very happy at the end of the deal. I ask the person who has made it $2,200 if he has aces, and am relieved when he answers: “No, queens”. I tell the dealer to just put a lot of kings on the board, and indeed the first card off the deck is a king. When the board pairs on the turn and indeed none of my opponents hold aces, I've got them all drawing dead and manage to win a massive pot with a hand that – although possibly best on the given deal – is certainly no monster. But it is a monster pot! With a total of well over $7,500 (of which I have invested $2,200 myself), this is one of the biggest pots I have ever won at this limit, and it completes the probably biggest turnaround I have ever made.

Having eliminated four players on one single hand, the game is over immediately, and I have succeeded in coming back from very deep to book a massive win. (Well, a massive win for me, that is, because as I said I hardly ever win or lose big. Whenever I buy-in for the minimum, a win or more than five or six buy-ins would be truly exceptional, and now I have won no less than twelve buy-ins after having been down six.) It needs to be said that I have gotten lucky when it mattered most, but you also have to position yourself to get lucky – which is exactly what I have done.

Some final words

I hope you liked this insight in a night of pot-limit Omaha, one of the biggest gambling games in poker. Even though on one single night it may often seem like there's not much skill to this game, the very best players in the world make lots of money playing it. Yes, it is a roller-coaster ride and one single pot can make quite a bit of difference to your weekly, monthly and sometimes even your yearly results, but in the long run the very best players will always come out on top.

Fortunately for me, I also managed to come out on top on this particular night. Let's hope that after my holiday, once I get back in my usual playing routine again, I will be as fortunate as on this memorable day. And if I do… well, then I guess I will probably share it with you again.

Play a night of poker with me (part I)

2007-02-04T22:23:00.002-08:00

Play a night of poker with me (part I)
by Rolf Slotboom

It is a busy Tuesday night in my regular cardroom. Because the weekly tournament is sold out, the cash game that I want to play cannot start until 9.30 p.m. Taking into account the closing time of the casino (3 a.m.), this means there will be only limited time to play what has become my favorite game: pot-limit Omaha, high only.

Despite the fact that on the immediate next morning my girlfriend and I will go on a poker cruise, and thus I will have just very little sleep, I decide that the game is well worth it. Usually, Tuesdays are the best days for playing this big game because all the gamblers will be here, and giving up a little sleep seems like a small sacrifice to me. What I don't know is that this poker night will turn into a memorable one. Even though I am known for my consistency and for the fact that I hardly ever win big or lose big, on this day I am going to experience a lot more chip movement than I'm accustomed to. In this article, and also in its second part, I will guide you through this night and share with you the hands I played, the things that happened and the thoughts that guided the decisions I made.

The Ace goes off to a bad start

While sometimes I will buy into this game for quite a bit of money, because there are quite a few loose / aggressive players on my immediate left, I decide to buy in for the minimum (which is $500, blinds are $10 and $10). My reasoning: By letting the Action Men on my left do the betting and raising, I might well be able to win a very big pot, either by limp / reraising before the flop or by check-raising on the flop. While this strategy has given me tremendous success over the past few years, on this day I am in for some rough weather – I just don't know it yet.

After fifteen minutes of play, I catch aces single-suited in the big blind. The opponent to my immediate left raises to $40 and gets called in a couple of places. I raise the maximum and get two callers. Because I have invested well over 50% of my stack already, I decide to bet the remainder of it blind. Even though the raggedy Q73 rainbow flop doesn't seem that bad to me, when the player to my left moves in immediately I know that I will need help. I don't get it, and my opponent's set of sevens scoops the pot.

Twenty minutes later, I play my second hand of the night. Under the gun with once again aces single-suited I make a minimum raise to $20, something that I do quite often. Three people call, and then the person on the button raises to $60. The big blind calls, and I once again raise the maximum with my aces – and once again I get two callers. As before, I put the remainder of my stack in without looking at the flop, and once again I get raised by a set: this time it is the button's KK74 that has improved over my hand. So, well within the hour I am down two buy-ins already, having moved in with aces twice – but little did I know about what was yet to come.

Some more losses

Another twenty minutes later, I play my third hand of the night. Under the gun, I once again raise to $20, holding KQJ9 double-suited in hearts and spades. I get five callers and the flop comes T84 with two hearts. I check, the person to my left bets $100, gets called by the button, and I check-raise all-in to $460 with my wraparound straight plus king-high flush draw. The initial bettor now reraises all-in and succeeds in trying to shout out the button, and he also succeeds in beating me – his T8xx holding up against my monster draw.

Then, on the immediate next hand, I get aces in the big blind again. The person to my left raises to $40 again. He gets reraised to $120, and with one caller in the middle, I am able to get my entire stack in before the flop by reraising all-in. While the initial raiser folds, the reraiser does not, and he actually holds a great snap-off hand against my aces: 8765 double-suited. He flops the nut straight to beat me once more. The game has barely started and I am down four buy-ins already, with the people around me holding the chips, most notably the Action Men on my left. This means that not only will I have to fight hard to come back, it will also be pretty hard to do, because these Action Men tend to give considerably less action whenever they are in front. All in all, I don't like my position much, having gotten four premium hands already - way more than can normally be expected in just one hour of play – and having lost them all. This is bad not just from a financial point of view, but also because I have a lucky image that I just love to maintain – yet on this day it is clear that my opponents are starting to think that this might be the time to break me, that the Ace may now be more vulnerable than ever before.

Two more hands: Down to minus $3,000

And vulnerable I am! Some thirty minutes later, I raise to $20 with the rather marginal J998 double-suited. An opponent to my left makes it $40 to go and three people call, as do I. Having played with this player for many years, I know that in this situation (with him being in front quite a lot, and with me looking for an opportunity to build a big pot), he's got 100% pure aces – and on top of that, probably good aces as well. Now, the flop comes JT7 rainbow giving me the nut straight, and the small blind comes out betting $120, slightly less than the pot. Now, while a lot of people might think this is a great flop for my hand, it is not that good, actually. Even though I have the nuts, I have no redraws in case someone holds the same straight as me. What's more: I am not much of a favorite against the AAKQ that the opponent on my left may well have, and also against a set I am not a big favorite by any means. If two or three people put their money in the pot, I will have to ask for not just one but two blanks – and even then I might still have to split. So, in quite a few cases with my hand and this flop, one would simply flatcall on the flop and wait for a safe turn card to make a move. But because I have a pretty good read on the bettor (I read him for a lot of hands, but not a straight), taking into account the person behind me who is marked with aces plus some other big cards, and because my stack is just a little too small to make the play suggested here, I decide to commit fully and raise all-in to $440. An additional reason for raising now is that the original bettor has a $2,200 stack, so the player on my left will need a very strong hand to call here, because of the danger of getting popped again. Anyway, to make a long story short, my two opponents are blocking each other quite a lot (the bettor holding KQJ7, the person on my left AAKQ), but an ace comes on the river to make this a split pot – with once again me getting nothing.

And then I lose my sixth buy-in as well. I am on the button with KK76 double-suited. An early position player has raised to $30, gets called in three places and because it looks like my hand may well be best on the given deal, I raise the max. to $200 total. Two people call, and then to my dismay the third caller pops it again. Now I know I am up against aces for sure, and even though I hold quality kings, I am a big dog – but also too committed to fold now. When an ace flops, I know it's all over for me, and in less than three hours of play I have lost a (to me) unparalleled number of six buy-ins.

Down six buy-ins with the people around me in total control, I am thinking about the best way to try to recover. There is something to be said for trying to cover the table, meaning I would buy in for so much that I would be able to break any player on one single hand. But seated to the immediate right of two highly aggressive and very experienced large stacks, I am still convinced that my small stack / move in early strategy is the right approach to tackle this game. But down no less than $3,000, having had more good hands in one single session than normally in an entire week, and with the Action Men on my left in total control, I am not too confident that I can turn things around, actually. After all, this certainly looks like a very bad session to me – and with tomorrow's cruise ahead of me, I can think of better ways to start a holiday.

Some final words

In the second part of this article, I will describe the miracle turnaround that I was able to make, one of the biggest Houdini acts I have ever pulled. Fortunately, Lady Luck favored me after all – but hey, I will share that with you in my next column.

A Bold Play

2007-02-04T22:23:00.001-08:00

A Bold Play
by Rolf Slotboom

It was once again one of those nice and quiet Sunday afternoons. Knowing there are usually no big pot-limit Omaha games available on Sundays, I headed to the casino to play some limit hold'em, even though the stakes are relatively small (especially when you compare them to our regular pot-limit game). But because I rarely get to play any long sessions of limit hold'em anymore, I sometimes choose to play on one of these Sundays, because then the cardroom opens early - meaning I can log in quite a few hours and practice my discipline probably more than anything else.
Now, it is three or four weeks after my article “A semi-bluff succeeds” has been published, and quite a few of my opponents in the game have read that piece. In the article, I described this exact Sunday afternoon game, and analyzed a hand that I stole from my one of my opponents, in addition to one or two other moves I had made. Possibly because of this piece, people seem to focus on this alleged “stealing” and “bluffing” of mine much more than usual, so I knew I had to make the necessary adjustments, and would have to come up with a real hand every once in a while.

The $10-20 table that I'm playing at is not as soft as on an average Sunday, but it is still quite a good game. Having said that, I haven't won any pots in the first three hours of play, and I'm down almost $300. That's when the following hand develops. Everybody folds to a lady player two off the button who calls as the first one in, a loose / aggressive player in the cutoff calls as well, and I'm on the button with a queen-jack offsuit. Even though this is typically a hand I would limp with, because there are two relatively tight players in the blinds, and I want to get the chance to play against the two somewhat looser players only, I decide to raise. Indeed, both blinds fold, so three players see the flop AQT rainbow.

Both players check to me, I bet, and they both call. The way they call it looks to me like they are both rather weak. Even though some players like to check-call with a pair of aces (especially a weak ace, when they fear the raiser might have AK or AQ or so, but still want to keep him honest), in this case I think they don't even hold that much. So, when the turn is an offsuit six and they both check again, I fire $20, confident that indeed my pair of queens / jack kicker is the best hand right now.

The lady player hesitates and then finally calls. Knowing this player, she would have called instantly with an ace or even a queen, and the way she calls it seems to me that she isn't drawing but has a weak made hand. I put her on a ten, something like T9 or T8 probably. The other player, who is aggressive but rather inexperienced and way too loose, now calls rather quickly, and his body language suggests that he probably has a queen – in which case my jack kicker is undoubtedly good. (With king-queen, he probably would have raised preflop, and with any other paint card he would now have made two pair, and I don't sense that much strength in him.) It is possible he's got a QJ as well, but something like Q9, Q8 or even a queen-small suited are all just as likely, as this person would play all these hands in this type of situation.

Now, the river comes another six, making the final board AQT66. Once again, they both check, and with my now rather weak QJ (my kicker doesn't play anymore, meaning I will have to split with any queen, and anyone with an ace, six or even a KJ beats me easily), it would seem normal to simply check it back. After all, usually in this type of situation I will only get called by someone who has me beat or who has the same hand as me, so there would be no value in betting – right? Well, not really. If my read on both players was correct, and knowing both their tendencies, I was pretty sure I could get the lady to pay me off with just one ten, and after this much strength (with a tight player like me betting on all streets against this scary board, and the lady paying me off three times) the inexperienced player with the queen might then reason that at least one of us had to have an ace or better. This is exactly what happened: The lady with the ten called, and the third player then folded showing a queen, meaning that instead of a split I now won the entire pot.

The inexperienced player showed both surprise and disappointment at the outcome, because he is not someone to throw away a marginal hand easily, but now he had done just that and it turned out to be wrong! Well, of course he was correct in folding his hand, because in this situation where I knew I was going to get called, there was no chance whatsoever that I could be bluffing, and the way the betting went I was almost certain to have a big ace or better here. But because both players had basically given away their hands by their betting patterns, their predictability and their body language, they had made it very easy for me to make a “shot for nothing” by making a bet that, if my read was correct, was basically free of risk – and fortunately, it paid off well for me.

After that, I was fortunate enough to win a couple more pots, having raised before the flop with some very marginal cards. First, I raised from the small blind with a king-eight of clubs only, once again to force out the big blind, and to compete with the same two players again. This raise of mine happened to make the eventual winner fold, and instead of losing quite a few bets, my top pair of kings now won a decent-sized pot because of the contributions of the aggressive player, who called me down with second pair. And then, on the immediate next hand, I raised from the button with an ace-nine offsuit only, got three-bet by the small blind, and ended up winning a very big pot by making the nut flush on the turn. This meant that I had booked quite a good result for the day without getting any decent starting hands, and by winning three decent-sized pots with hands that were fairly marginal at best.

A few minutes after that, the two weaker players left and the table suddenly became shorthanded, as just some of the tighter players remained. With me having shown nothing but garbage in the last two or three pots, I decided to call it a day as well, because I knew that the tight players would never give me credit for a real hand anymore after all this previous aggression of mine with – in their eyes – crummy cards. Now, in a short-handed game you simply cannot afford to wait on premium cards and you will have to steal a lot, but after all the events on this day, I didn't think I could get away with any thievery anymore. So, this being the only game available on this day, I decided to simply go home and do some writing instead.

Still, I was pleased with the way I had played this session, in particular in the queen-jack hand mentioned. It doesn't happen very often that you have an almost perfect read on not just one but two players, and that from there you can basically predict their actions and lure the worst hand into calling and the same hand as yours into folding. It was a bold play that's for sure, a play I might not make again in a very long time – but it sure felt good.

Borgata Poker Open - Part 1

2007-02-04T22:20:00.000-08:00

Borgata Poker Open - Part 1
by Rolf Slotboom

Some time ago, I wrote the article series “A few misconceptions in poker” and also a separate article called “A few misconceptions in Omaha”. Today, I will discuss a few common mistakes in big-bet poker, that even relatively good and experienced players still make sometimes.

A few misconceptions in no-limit hold'em:
Just because you have a good starting hand, doesn't mean you should always make a big raise. Also, when you catch a fairly-good-but-also-rather-dangerous flop, there's no need to always raise or even continue with something like top pair / top kicker or an overpair. If you feel that you are beat, or if you're in a situation where you're a small favorite or a big dog, it might be correct to simply wait for one more safe card – or even to throw your hand away.

Quite a few people who are new to no-limit hold'em, having stepped up from limit play, think that just because they have a big starting hand, they should automatically raise. But no-limit hold'em is not like limit hold'em. While in limit you will raise with your ace-king at least seven or eight times out of ten, in no-limit there is something to be said for keeping the strength of your hand hidden in order to make a move later. Now, this is not always the best way to play your hand, but it is the way you should sometimes play in order not to become too predictable. However, quite a few people who are relatively new to big-bet play don't seem to understand this. They think that the person who wins the pot with a six-five offsuit, having called a raise from their ace-king, is simply playing badly and has just been lucky to outdraw the best hand. While this may be true sometimes, it is also possible that the person with the six-five has taken advantage of the tendencies and / or predictability of his opponent. People who think they should always raise whenever they get two big cards are playing limit style. They may raise any time when the flop gives them something like top pair / top kicker, because they are used to doing this in limit. However, people who play like this in no-limit are the bread and butter for the more experienced players, who are able to look beyond their own hand, and who are capable of making plays based on the person they are up against, who are able to lure their opponents into making the wrong decisions - call or even raise when they should have folded, fold when they should have called. This is especially true if the money is rather deep, and thus the good players got more chance to make moves or to outplay their lesser skilled opponents.

A few misconceptions in pot-limit Omaha (apply to other big-bet games as well):
When on the end everybody checks to you, and you think that you probably hold the best hand, you should often bet big to get a call out of someone who thinks you are bluffing, or else simply check it back. Don't make a small bet for value with a lot less than the nuts in order to milk your opponents for a tiny bit of extra money. You are opening yourself up for a large check-raise that you may very well have to pay off. This is because the possibility exists that your opponent may have decided to check-raise because he smelled weakness in you (possibly because of your small bet on the end). If you are not very good at analyzing whether or not this person is making a move on you, or if he has simply raised because he's got you beat, then it might be best to just check it back on the end rather than try to make a tiny bit of extra money, while risking a whole lot. It is especially important to refrain from making this type of bet when you are either up against a very good player, or against someone that you cannot read very well.

I will illustrate this with a pot-limit Omaha hand I played recently. In an unraised pot, I was in the $10 big blind with 9873, suits irrelevant, and six people saw the flop 985 rainbow. I bet out the minimum, $10 (something I do quite often; I will discuss the reasons for this in an upcoming article), and the player on my immediate left raised to $30. By the amount of his raise, he had given me a fairly good indication of the strength and also the content of his hand. Knowing his play, he would probably have raised the maximum with a straight, and with a big draw he would either have flat-called or have made a pot-sized raise. So, it seemed that he didn't have either one of these hands, put probably held a relatively weak hand: something like bottom set or two pair with maybe a little bit of straight potential as well. Anyway, one or two people called the raise, as did I.

The turn came an offsuit jack and both the small blind and me checked to the flop-raiser. He hesitated and now bet $50, once again a bet that screamed: “I am weak, but I want to look like I am strong.” He got called by the small blind and it was up to me. I was fairly certain that none of my opponents had a straight – much less the nut straight - but I also knew the caller in the middle well enough to know that he doesn't like to release his hand once he has some money invested, and therefore I judged a big check-raise to be too risky. Because my hand had quite a bit of (straight / full, both non-nut) potential and because both players are rather predictable, I decided to simply call again and let my gut feelings dictate the best possible course of action on the river. The last card was a nine, giving me a non-nut full house. The small blind checked, I checked and the person on my left now bet $100, which made the small blind fold. It was now up to me – what should I do?

Well, usually with a boat that's anything less than top full, all you have in this game is a bluff catcher, and sometimes you don't even have that – in quite a few cases, a small full house is a clear fold. Rarely if ever do I raise for value on the end with a non-nut full, and a check-raise on the end with this type of hand is even more unusual for me. However, in this case this is exactly what I did. I check-raised to $500, got called and my hand proved good. My reasoning was simple. My opponent had basically given away the content of his hand by his betting actions and especially by the betting amounts. On the flop, I gave him credit for something like 55, 98, 95 or 85, with a little extra maybe. His betting actions on the turn and also his body language clearly suggested that the jack had not helped him, and I therefore ruled out the possibility of him having top three pair. In my opinion, the most likely hands for him to hold after the turn were 55, 98 or 95 with a gutshot or even open-ended straight draw possibly. Now, when the river paired nines and my opponent now betting $100, it seemed clear that he thought he had the best hand and was betting for value. But the way the betting had gone, there was no way he could have me beat. Either he would have a smaller full house than mine, or he would have exactly the same hand. From the betting on the turn and also from his general demeanor both on the turn and river it certainly didn't look like I was up against a J9 or JJ. What's more, I knew that a check-raise by me on the river might well be perceived as an attempt to steal the pot away from my opponent, so I was pretty certain that even with a worse hand than mine my opponent might still pay me off. This indeed happened. He called me with 55xx for a smaller full, and I won a rather big pot with a fairly marginal hand. Two lessons here:

Always make sure that the size of your bets doesn't give away the strength and / or exact content of your hand. In big-bet play, this is very important – especially when the money is relatively deep.
On the end, don't make a small bet for value when you are opening yourself up for a large check-raise. As in this case, don't try to milk a good player for $100 when you will have to pay off -or feel that you may have to pay off- a large raise. You should either bet big to get a call out of someone who thinks you are bluffing but then release if you get raised, or you should simply check it back and show down your hand (which will more often than not be good, of course). Putting your entire stack at risk in order to milk your opponent for a small amount is not just bad mathematics – it is bad poker.

The trouble with maniacs

2007-02-03T23:44:00.000-08:00

The trouble with maniacs
by Rolf Slotboom

A while ago, I wrote a piece called “The best seat versus a maniac”. I explained the trouble you can get into because of highly aggressive players, even – and especially – if you’re in the position that quite a few people think is best: sitting on the immediate left of the maniac (i.e., having the maniac on your immediate right). One of the big problems a good player will face in this type of situation occurs when the players behind you don’t respect you when you three-bet the maniac. Let’s say the maniac raises as the first one in, you three-bet with a hand like AQ or 99 (you would definitely reraise with these hands to isolate the maniac, wouldn’t you?), and now someone behind you cold-calls or even caps it. After the flop, you will find yourself sandwiched between a highly aggressive player who will bet with anything and someone behind you who may or may not have you beat – a not very enviable position to be in, to put it mildly. This is especially true if the flop has not helped you, but may in fact have helped your opponents.

Let’s analyze a concrete example of this type of situation and look at the betting patterns and possible thought processes before, as well as after the flop.

Before the flop

Situation
The maniac has raised in early position as the first one in. Why is he a maniac? Well, he raises something like 7 or 8 hands out of 10 before the flop, and after the flop he will usually keep driving by bluffing and semi-bluffing, yeah sometimes even by betting with the best hand. Note that I said he will usually bet after the flop, but not always. This maniac does change gears every now and then. He knows how to put pressure on people, senses weakness very well and just feels when the opposition may not be that strong (meaning that he might be able to bully them out of the pot).

Your hand
JJ.

Analysis
You have a very good hand that is almost certainly better than the raiser’s. In fact, you should probably give the raiser credit for not much more than a random hand, since he raises before the flop so frequently. In this case, you have an almost automatic three-bet. If the people behind you fold, you will be able to play heads up, in position, with a hand that is likely to be best by far.

Actions
The cutoff cold-calls behind you, the big blind calls and the maniac caps the betting. Everybody calls, and you take the flop four-handed.

After the flop

Situation
The flop comes K84 rainbow. Now the big blind bets out, and immediately gets raised by the maniac. It’s up to you. What do you do?

Analysis
This is one of the most common problems when there’s a maniac in your game. You have invested four small bets before the flop with what may very well – though not necessarily – be the best hand, and now that the flop is here your opponents are putting the pressure up. Knowing that the maniac will probably try to bully you out, the big blind bets into him, knowing he will probably raise. The blind knows that if you hold a hand like 99, TT, JJ or QQ you will have a very hard time calling, and therefore he might be betting a relatively weak hand like A8 to make you lay down the current best hand. You know that the blind might hold a hand like this, and you also know that the maniac doesn’t need to have anything in this spot. On the other hand, there is someone behind you still to be heard from (someone who has cold-called your reraise before the flop, and who might very well hold ace-king, king-queen or some other hand that has you beat). Plus, if you call – and thus show weakness – the hand may get three- and four-bet to put even more pressure on you, and if someone does have just a simple king, you will be putting in four small bets on the flop while drawing to a mere two-outer. And that is just the flop: The same type of betting sequence might occur on the turn as well, where the betting doubles. Still, if you decide to fold but indeed you were holding the best hand, this can be considered a catastrophe, the pot being so big, and your opponents willing to go all the way to the river with hands like middle pair or even ace high (in the case of the maniac).

Actions
It is hard to tell if folding, calling or reraising would be best in this situation with you holding the jacks. If you think that by reraising you might be able to make someone lay down a king then this might be your best choice, however this scenario is highly unlikely considering the amount of money in the pot, and the fact that people know you may simply be trying to isolate the bully. So, it is imperative to know your opponents here, but even then you will make the wrong decision every now and then: either folding the current best hand (i.e., the big blind holds A8, the maniac holds a random hand and the cutoff holds something like AQ), or calling or even reraising when at least one player has you beat.

Some final words

Now, this is the trouble with maniacs. If your opponents keep playing their normal game, then having one maniac in the game can be very profitable to you. You can isolate the maniac with your good hands, having good position on top of that, meaning you give your hand the best possible chance to hold up. But usually, your opponents won’t be playing their normal game. They will be waiting for the maniac to bet or raise, and will not respect your raises and reraises as much as they usually do, because they know you will try to isolate the maniac whenever you can – they know you won’t need aces or kings to do that. If you’re in this type of situation, you may well get forced into making the wrong decisions after the flop, because people know how to use the maniac’s tendencies against you. This is even more so because of your position: you will often find yourself sandwiched between the maniac who will bet into you with anything and the players behind you who are also in the hand. And with all the bets you have paid before the flop and will pay after, and with the pots being much bigger than usual, any wrong decision you will make here can be considered a terrible, or even horrible one.

Handicapping

2007-02-03T23:43:00.000-08:00

Handicapping
by Rolf Slotboom

Recently, there's been quite a bit of discussion as to what constitutes a "good" player. Is a good player someone who challenges the very best, and then knows how to beat them? Or is a good player someone who tries to find himself in the game that gives him the biggest possible edge, i.e., someone who actively seeks to play in games where the opposition is relatively weak?

Heat on me

Over the years, I have gotten a lot of heat because I am a prime example of the people from category no. 2: the ones who actively seek to play in soft games. On more than one occasion, I have heard people make claims like "Hmm, see how one can quickly develop into a poker force, simply by beating up a bunch of 101 regulars." A few well-known players / writers, and also some people who have not achieved anything yet, claimed that since I was never at the big events, because they never saw me play in games with expert opposition, I could not be that much of a player - so why on earth would I be worth listening to? Actually, most of these critics would use much kinder words than this - but basically, this is what they meant.

Well, I have to admit: these critics of mine do have a point. In most sports, players get recognized as being the best because they are able to beat the best. Poker on the other hand - especially cash game poker - is an endeavor where professionals can select their own hours and choose any games that they wish. (If the recent developments in tournament poker will continue, we might reach the situation here as well where someone gets acknowledged as the best because he beats all the best players in his field, in events where skill is by far the most important factor and the effect of luck is being minimized. This will be even more true if there's not just going to be television involved but, just as importantly, sponsorship and guaranteed prize pools that come from other sources than the players' money. If the very best players can compete in a highly skillful event with substantial prize money coming from sponsors rather than from the players themselves, then this would be a championship in the truest sense of the word.) I for one have always paid a lot of attention to game-, table- and seat-selection in order to give myself the best possible edge, and there's no question that it has paid off well for me. It doesn't automatically make me a top player, though. It does mean that I've been able to make top money - probably much more than most of the people, and even some of the experts, who are out there to criticize me.

Some more discussion

Now, even though I don't respond to accusations and / or criticism very often, this handicapping issue seemed interesting enough for me to do just that. I claimed that even with my good game selection, even with all the handicapping that I do, I am still faced with some good or even very good players on a regular basis. In the relatively big games that I play, it simply does not happen very often that a live one will sit down to simply hand over his money to the other players. (It does happen, but unfortunately not very often.) Anyone who thinks that in pot-limit games with buy-ins of over $500 one can expect to be up against slouches only, is horribly mistaken, and obviously has no clue about the average skill level of pot-limit or high-stakes poker. Which was basically my response on one of the poker forums. I wrote: "Guys, even with all my table- and game-selection, I am still up against some of the best (European) players. Even though I make most of my money from the people who are not that tough, I still have to be able to hold my own against some very good players: there are simply no high-stakes games available with bad and mediocre players only."

Now, that's when things got really strange. A well-known limit player claimed that he had not been that impressed at all with these European pot-limit players. He came to this conclusion because when these people sat down in his (limit) game, they would almost always play poorly. Now, this would be the same as discrediting this limit player for not being able to play big-bet poker well. Just because someone plays certain structures or certain games rather poorly, doesn't mean he can't excel in other games or structures. Indirectly, this person also implied me because he had called me a "pot-limit player" on numerous occasions. This despite the fact that I have built my entire bankroll by playing limit poker.

Also, another person jumped in on the discussion, saying that if I was indeed playing regularly in the same games as some of the best European players, then my game- and table-selection must not be so good after all. But, as I said, for the stakes that I like to play there are simply no soft games available: my options are basically limited to semi-tough, tough and very tough games only. What's more, if you take this logic further, one would never qualify as a good player:

"If you try to avoid the toughest games, you cannot be a top player, because top players should be able to beat anyone, at any time, and under any circumstances.
"If you do take it up against the very best, then you do a poor job of game-selection. As we all know, part of what makes the pro the pro is that he always tries to maximize his edge. Someone who chooses to play in the toughest games against the very best players obviously flukes in this area, and thus cannot be considered a top pro.

Some final words

The subject of handicapping is a highly interesting one, and I still am somewhat ambivalent as to what constitutes a "good" player. Basically, my view is this: I don't think one can claim to be an expert player, if he makes his money from beating relatively weak opposition only - even if by doing this, this person is able to make expert money. But to try to discredit someone just because he's smart and sensible when it comes to picking good games, seems like taking things a bit too far. I would say: Try to learn from the experts, because they may be able to teach you things that merely good player / writers could not teach you. But you should just as well listen to the people who may be less-than-expert, but still make very good money. If I see someone who has gained tremendous success without being an actual expert, for a large part by avoiding the people who might pose a threat to him, then this is a person that I would want to listen to.

: Stereotypes and prejudice

2007-02-03T23:41:00.000-08:00

Stereotypes and prejudice
by Rolf Slotboom

When we are playing poker, we often judge new players, or people we don't know, according to certain stereotypes. It is not just the average or even weak players who do this, but also the good players, and even the experts. We use these stereotypes when we know nothing about an opponent's play, his tendencies, his level of knowledge and / or experience, etc. Examples of this type of thinking would be:

Female players are often fairly tight in their starting requirements. They also tend to play their hands in a rather weak and passive manner.
Asian players are usually loose / aggressive, and tend to disregard things like pot odds: whenever they have a draw, they want to reach the river, almost regardless of the size of the pot.
Men with tattoos and long hair, or who in other ways are explicit in the way they dress, are often explicit in the way they play as well. While this may mean they play very aggressively, it usually means they are playing extremely tight.
Young and white males tend to know all the odds and percentages, put lots of emphasis on hand selection, but often lack when it comes to playing the players and having a "feel" for the game.

Now, it is important to realize that these things are generalizations mostly, and say nothing of each individual player. However, with no other knowledge to rely on, it is perfectly acceptable to rely on this type of thinking- in fact, it would be very unwise not to. Unless we have other, more reliable, characteristics we can use, it is simply a percentage play to stereotype a new player according to the group he belongs to. So, if an Asian player we have never seen enters the game, and immediately starts raising like there's no tomorrow, we would tend to rely on the stereotype / generalization thing above, rather than automatically give him credit for a big hand. At the same time, if a young woman player that's new to us puts in lots of bets early, we will usually fold all but the very best hands, because we assume she would not be raising without a very big hand. Of course, if we discover later that she doesn't fit her stereotype and likes to bet and raise with all kinds of hands, we will make the necessary strategy changes, and adjust our game to how this specific person plays, rather than how women -as a group- tend to play in general.

When do these types of generalizations cross the line, and is there a difference between stereotyping and prejudice?

What we have discussed above is how good players use general group behavior to their advantage when they encounter an unknown individual from that group. But it is important to realize that while a group in general may tend to behave in a certain pattern, this does not say anything about an individual person coming from that group. For instance, there are quite a few extremely good and highly aggressive female players around, and I have seen people coming from China and Vietnam play tighter than you can imagine. So, when you hear people say things like "Women can't play" or "Asians always lose", you should know they have crossed the line from using general stereotypes in a beneficial manner, to being prejudiced about groups as a whole. There is nothing to be gained from being prejudiced like this: it adds nothing to your knowledge of people, nor does it help improving your game. In fact, you would only be making a fool of yourself when you claim things like this- most of all, because you would be clearly wrong.

Some final words

The truth of the matter is that most good or excellent players would almost never rely on stereotypes and generalizations exclusively when it comes to judging a new player's game. Usually, they will tend to "know" how this player plays by the way he talks, the way he handles his chips, his level of intensity and a dozen of other things. Hardly ever will good players base their decisions on generalizations and stereotypes only. More often, they will use individual player characteristics (does the player look at the action when he's not involved, did he come in right after the button and if not, why not, does he seem familiar with the game and the betting patterns, what does his general body language tell you: is he here to gamble or not?) in combination with the general characteristics of the group that he's part of- like for example when a young and white male who looks like a computer wizard enters the game. The good players will combine these two types of information, to make the best possible analysis -which would be nothing more than an educated guess- about the way this person probably plays. Those of you who don't use all this general and individual information when making adjustments to the new player's probable style of play, will be missing out on an excellent opportunity to improve your game- and maximize your earns.

Take care, you guys, and good luck.