The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

I have a small problem that only you can help me with.

The problem is that I’m super lazy, a world-class procrastinator, and have had this blog content “In-Draft” for more than a year now!

Meanwhile, Diamond Lil’s closed, Seattle 20/40 Hold Em moved to a new room a couple miles away, and the DL stuff written months ago might seem stale now, unless read in the context of that move.
 
And all the change it brought?  No, and that’s the point.  Nothing changed.  Same game, players, management, dealers, floormen, and rules.  The biggest change I can think of is how I can't get a tiny dab of hot Chinese mustard for my Kung Pao or General Tso's Chicken any more.  Lil's kitchen had it, but the new place doesn't.  Bummer, right?

So can you please help me out here?  All you gotta do is (1) Forgive how long since the last post, and; (2) Keep in mind that some of this is from DL, and some from the new room.  To help with that, it’s divided into Parts I (Before) and II (After) the move.

Part I - Before the Move

The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly

My last post whined some about various bad behaviors seen in poker games, so for balance, here's some good things I've been seeing.

Good #0:  That post also mentioned Henry's and his wife's car, with the REALOVE vanity plate.  Can’t count it, since it's a repeat, but that one grabs me so much I can't help myself, so can you please let me just mention it again?  Thanks.

Good #1:  Then there's Yvonne, Board Lady at The Commerce, who while seating and getting chips for a player, managed to say "please" three times, and "thank you" twice.  Those words are like an endangered species in the Poker Room, so I couldn't help myself there either, and had to call her out on it.

"Oh," she allowed, with perhaps a slightly embarrassed smile, "That's just how Dad and Mom taught me."

Good #2:   Seattle Seahawk #85 came back!  They traded him to “the other” Washington- The Redskins, last year, and I didn’t think we’d ever see him again.  But then, in December [2015], the only NFL player I ever knew personally, and most successful Hold Em Player I ever knew, period, somehow was ¿traded? BACK to Seattle, and briefly came back to the DL 20 game.  Now that the season is over, well, who knows if or when we’ll see him.

[Update:  Seems A.M. retired, and moved back home to his vineyards in Fresno, CA.  Most successful cuz he came to our game with a single, simple goal:  Have a good time, and he never failed.]

Good #3:   Live Straddle at Lil's.  Can't complain, nor explain, about surprising popularity of the Live Straddle in the DL 20 game.  Some of these guys just love to gambool.

Lots of them also like to act (e.g., fold) out of turn, or *tell* that they’re folding, or just throw away when they don’t like the river, and so on.  I have no complaint about any of those behaviors either.

Good #4:  Recreational Retirement Benefits.

A couple years ago I reached that age, and started getting Social Security, thanks to American wage earners and taxpayers.  Thanks!  Now, there’s this other benefit I never expected or knew about, until I discovered it quite by accident last year.  And now, I’m using this to save tons of money— and someday, you can too!
 
Turns out, once you’re old enough, you won’t need to spend even a nickel, ever again, for alcohol or drugs, when you want to get high.  Turns out, when you want a quick buzz, all you gotta do is stand up real fast!

Good #5:  Good Save for a Good Ruling.
 
Barry Tannenbaum’s superb Limit Hold ‘Em book calls Pocket Nines (Early Position) a marginal hand that will probably lose money.  I throw it away sometimes, too, but more often will look for an excuse to play it.
 
DL 20/40.  This time, with 99 Early, enough guys on my left are *telling* us they’re folding that I promote myself to Middle Position, and open-raise.  Chae, in late position, and the Button, both call.
So I’m watching them, not the board, when the flop comes.  They both look puzzled and confused, then give each other, and me, a WTF? look.

So I ask Tyler, on my right, “Did I miss something here?”  Then, before he can reply, I look at the flop:  K Q 9.  Nice.  I check, Chae checks, Button does nothing, and they start talking about how something was wrong with how the flop went down. 

I’m listening, trying to follow, but I didn’t see whatever they saw, so I don’t get it.  Then, any issue was apparently resolved; action was still on the Button, and he finally goes ahead and bets out.  OK, fine.  If there was a problem, seems like they're happy now.  So I raise.

Oops, wait.  Now they want to question the flop [again][some more], and summon Junior Floorman, a well-meaning good guy, but who might not have what it takes to make a the right decision in a tricky situation.

They say the dealer accidentally brought five cards off the deck for the burn and flop, put one back, but the wrong one, and now the flop isn’t right.  I don’t get that.  Doesn’t the burn card come off separately, by itself, then three more for the flop?  But anyway they’re discussing all this, for too long, Junior Floorman looks unsure, and appears to be on the verge of declaring a misdeal, and refunding everyone’s bets.  Time for a save.

So I speak up, and make my case for how that might have been OK earlier, but questioning the flop, then betting it, then questioning it again, after you’ve been check-raised, just ain’t right. 

So now Junior Floor really doesn’t know what to do.  I even told him I had made my case to put on some pressure, and please don't take the easy way out.

Fortunately, the Poker Room Manager, done for the day, coat on, wasn’t out the door yet.  They got him over, and repeated everything, I made my case again too, and The Boss made the right ruling.  With all that action on the hand now, it will be played out.  And it was, and my set held up.  Thank you.

Good #6:  The Boss.  After our 2 month Summer 2015 trip to Bellagio and Commerce, we got back to DL in late August, and met M.W, the new Poker Room Manager.  The Boss.  This time, they found a smart and funny guy who:

• *Really* knows what he’s doing.
• Is decisive, but without being overbearing.
• Is always friendly, but don't take no shit from nobody.
• Always just plain "Gets It."

Hallelujah.  Plus, he's funny.  But don't rejoice too much yet, because see Bad Thing #1, below.

The Bad

I'm not sure either of these two things are actually bad at all.  At first glance they sure seemed to be.

Bad #1.  The King is Dead; Long Live The King

On December 11, 2015, management announced that, early in 2016,  Diamond Lil's will close!  Successful business, makes money hand over fist, and generates tons of tax revenues too, so sure, why not shut it down?

It's been a cardroom for over 40 years, but now there's some hassle with the city, over zoning, and also with the supermarket chain that owns the empty lot where most DL customers park.  Or something.  In any case, they say the lease won't/can't be renewed, they're closing the door, and everything/everyone will supposedly move a couple miles to a new "Fortune Casino" that's getting ready to open, right across the street from Renton Honda.

Diamond Lil's is a unique, wacky, and totally lovable collection of extraordinary people, players and staff both.  We started coming here 23 years ago, to play 4/8, and now it's been the primary home for us (and the Seattle 20 game) for 8 years.
  
So I didn't like this news one damn bit.  But I didn't like it when they said the big limit games in Vegas were moving from Mirage to Bellagio, either, and look how that turned out!  They say the new place is bigger and better.  And it is even closer to our house.  

I put this item down under "Bad," but who knows?  It may turn out just fine.

Bad #2.  Exquisite Deception

Truthfully,  this one isn't really so bad either, except for the embarrassingly shameful way that I fell for it.  So let’s just say this one was My Bad.

Suppose that whenever it's your big blind, 4 chips, you put out 2 instead, as though it were your small.  Occasionally, you're going to get over.  Occasionally, the dealer, and your neighbors, will all be oblivious to the "mistake," the button will go "wrong," and you'll avoid the blind and save (steal) a bet.  Could this move expect a 10% success rate?  More?  Less?

I don't know.  But I do know a couple guys who pull this stunt every single time.  Don't you?  Or are you paying attention closely enough to notice?

Or how about this one:  Bet and raised on the flop, so to call you might put out two stacks of four chips each.  But instead, you slap down four chips, then two more, then two more, still just calling, but now three stacks.  Why?  Because occasionally — maybe once in a blue moon — an opponent who would call two bets might fold, thinking you made it three bets.

These are examples of the kinds of moves in Roman Fingers'  repertoire, and he's got a couple dozen others—  some that might cross the line, and some that just edge up against it, like these two.  In any case, Roman, aka Mr. Atlantic City, is for sure Seattle 20/40's undisputed King of Slick Tricks and Sneaky Moves.

I often think I shouldn't, and you might think I shouldn’t, but somehow I just can’t help liking Roman.  In spite of all his tricks, we are [were] "poker friends," and I even have a grudging admiration for his "skills."  Go figure.

And the move he put on me this time did not seem at all unethical to me, so I won't claim that there was anything *wrong* about it.  Poker is, in part,  a game of deception, and I actually have to admire how beautifully, if not masterfully, he executed this one, and deceived the crap out of me.

The dealer is nearly done pitching cards, and it's Roman's Big Blind, but he hasn't put it in yet.  Just as she's telling him, again, that it's his blind, he's folding his hand.  Oops.  Haven't we all been there a time or three?  He grabs his cards back, puts in four chips, and the action proceeds.

Muck, muck, muck, I find Ace Ten suited in the middle, and open-raise.  Action folds around to Roman, and he surprises me by calling.  Heads-up.

Flop comes Ten high, Roman waits for the turn to raise, and I had to laugh — at myself, I guess — when the hand he "fake folded" preflop, and shows down at the river, turns out to be pocket Queens.

The Ugly

So those two items under "Bad" weren't really bad all.  So far this post seems upbeat and positive.
 
But there is one truly Ugly story that needs to be told.  And this story needs a couple prefaces to tell the entire story, and to paint the full picture.

Preface I  —   The Ambiguous Muck

My last post mentioned Dr. Torture, the sadist who takes an end seat, then puts his bets and folds his cards right in front of his stack, and makes the dealer strain and reach.
           
That's physical abuse.  A cousin of that despicable move is psychological abuse:  The Ambiguous Muck.  A player is *maybe* folding, and pushes his cards forward, but just an inch or so.  Or perhaps he's beside the dealer, and just picks up his one chip card protector, and gives a little wave.
 
So the dealer has to ask herself:   "Is he folding?"  Maybe.  Or maybe he’s giving that chip to the waitress, and is trying to shoo away a fly?
 
Any player with half a brain should understand that the last thing she wants to do is accidentally take his hand, when he’s not really folding.  That’s a dealer's worst nightmare, and The Ambiguous Muck is a jerk move that makes dealers crazy.  If you don’t believe me, just ask one.

Sometimes the player is just careless, or clueless, and inconsiderate.  But sometimes it’s a deliberate act, where the player knows damn well the doubt, the uncertainty, and the anguish that he cruelly creates by *maybe* folding.

So the player who inflicts that mental torture, either carelessly or deliberately, making the poor dealer wonder if he wants to fold or not, is at best being inconsiderate, or at worst is harassing her, and being a sadistic asshole.

Preface II  —   Gender-Specific (Misogynistic) Pejoratives

Ain't that a mouthful.  It was a “horribly misogynistic pejorative” in that post a couple years ago, where Old Dirty Mouth asked Ducky about Ms. T:  "How do you like having that [shock word] run over you?

Being a word I had never written or spoken until then, I looked it up before posting, just to be sure.

Pejorative

adjective

expressing contempt or disapproval.

Synonyms:   disparaging, derogatory, denigratory, deprecatory, defamatory, slanderous, libelous

Yup, that's what we're talkin' about.  Any bad names one person calls another, in anger or contempt, or to ridicule, is probably a pejorative.  These include ethnic slurs, racial epithets, and all manner of discriminatory insults and put-downs. 

Bullies and bigots, haters and harassers, those seeking to abuse, intimidate or denigrate, all tend to use pejorative speech.  A lot.

I've used that other word a lot in this blog, and, oddly enough, it came up a lot in the recent election campaign.  Still, let's quickly review one time:

Misogyny

noun

1.  dislike of, contempt for, or ingrained prejudice against women.  (Google)
2.  hatred of women  (Meriam Webster)

Even before the Ugly incident came up, I had for some time been thinking about, and talking about, how quickly and easily we jump right into a Gender-Specific (Misogynistic) Pejorative.
 
For example, if someone cuts us off in traffic, and we’re angry about it, we might exclaim:

   "What a stupid asshole!"

...unless that someone was a woman.  Then, some of us might focus on gender also, update the pejorative, and exclaim:

  "What a stupid bitch!"

Why is that?  When the target is female, why do we so easily add gender to the condemnation?  And if we do, is that misogyny?  Does that make one a misogynist?

Probably yes.

Thanks for your patience.  Now we can tell the ugly story, where The Ambiguous Muck, and Gender-Specific (Misogynistic) Pejoratives both apply.

The Ugly:  Larry Doesn’t Play Here Any More

I used to think that I basically liked Leisure Suit Larry.  Sure, he’s a world-class narcissist, self-centered, selfish, and arrogant.  Wait, was that redundant?  But he also really, really likes to put chips in the pot, with little regard for his holding, and even more so if he’s drinking.  And how can you not love that?  Right?

Then one weeknight just before Christmas, there he was in Seat 5, I was in 1, Kitty was dealing, and suddenly, everything went straight to Hell.  Somehow, in the middle of playing a hand, medium big pot, Larry’s cards disappeared into the muck.
 
At first he didn’t know what happened.  “Where are my cards?” he yelled.  Then he claimed that Kitty had reached across the table and taken them from beneath his hands.  Lots of words back and forth between Larry, the floormen, and some from Kitty, but nothing resolved.

That tedious preface about The Ambiguous Muck seems germane here, since Larry is a guy very much prone to doing that.  In other words, if you’re one of those players who oftentimes makes the dealer wonder, makes her guess, whether you are folding or not — and Larry sure is one of those — then you really can’t be surprised, and can’t complain, when — inevitably — she might get it wrong one time.  Just sayin’.

A couple more hands are played, but Larry’s sitting out, grumbling, getting more and more pissed, and racking up, preparing to leave.  Maybe on his own, or maybe the floor told him to pack it up; I’m not sure.

But I am sure that, after racking his chips he sat there, still in 5, and loudly told Kitty “You’re a fucking bitch!” 

Then he stood up, and leaned in, almost in her face, and loudly said it again.  Twice. 

Then he cashed out and left.

A little later the floorman came back, said he had viewed surveillance video, and that, yes, Larry had left his cards, unprotected, right by the betting line, and yes, of course, the dealer scooped them.

It’s too bad M.W., The Poker Room Boss, was off that night; if he were there, things probably would never have gone that far.
 
Larry showed up again about ten days later, and it’s too bad The Boss was off that night too, and not there to tell to him why, until they had a chat, his floormen wouldn’t let him play.  Larry hung around half an hour anyway, telling anyone who would listen the whole story about his cards being taken.  He had no clue how that was all moot now, eclipsed by his Gender-Specific Misogynistic Pejorative speech to the dealer.
=== === ===

Part II - The Fortune Cookie

So Lil’s closed on April 25, and Fortune Poker opened 2 days later.  Since the change was first announced, I had been thinking (worrying) that another cardroom might throw some kind of big promotion, time it just right, and try to steal the Seattle 20/40 game, much like Emerald Queen stole it from the Mucks some years ago, by spreading 20 with a $1 rake.

That didn’t happen, and now the 20/40 is alive and well, and stronger than ever, at The Fortune Cookie, now UNDER half a mile from our house.  Often three 20/40 games, sometimes four.  Action Games, too.

I mean, get this:  Lately the live straddle has become so popular in the 20 game that, often as not, all the players in one of the games will by agreement all straddle, deal after deal, for hours on end.  And pound shots of Remy Martin 1738.  God Bless America.

The Tipping Point

Friday, October 14, 2016 - 6:40pm
Fortune Poker $20/40 - Table 12

I’m in late position, Seat 2, am distracted on my Galaxy Note 4 during the deal, and as the action nears, I look to the felt, and reach for my cards.

But I can’t find them, and for a moment think the dealer forgot me.  “Where are my cards?” I ask him.

“Somebody mucked them,” he says.

“What?  Somebody...who?”

He doesn’t reply, but nods and looks towards my neighbor in Seat 3, so I look left too.  Roman Fingers.  Should have known. 

“Did you touch my cards?”

“Not exactly,” he giggles.

Long story short, I ask the dealer to call the floor, and ask the floorman to please pass on to the poker room manager my complaint about Mr. Fingers’ fingers being where they should never be, and doing what they should never should do, yet again, and how much more of this are we gonna take?  Calmly and politely.

Two days later, I’m head up on the river with Smilin’ John, opposite ends of the table, and he shows down, in turn:  Ace Queen.

“Straight!” declares Mr. Roman Fingers, who has no cards, and is not involved.

It almost kinda sorta looked like a straight, too;  board was 6 7 9 T J, and if I said I’ve never been fooled or tricked by something like that before, I’d be lying.

But not this time.  My Ace King took the pot.  Then I had to wonder:  What motivates Roman to say that?  What is he trying to accomplish?  I kept asking myself that, again and again, over the next couple days, kept getting the same quite obvious answer, and I didn’t like it one damn bit.

So that was the tipping point, where my take on Roman went South.  Used to see him as clever, amusing and entertaining, but tricky and needs watching.  Now, however, I must consider him a real threat to game integrity, and my stack, and watch him as closely as I would any other cheat.

Plus, my outrage over how he took (stole) and mucked my hand preflop before I even saw my cards probably should have subsided some by now, but instead it keeps growing.  So now Fingers is the Atlanta Braves' new draft pick; it's open warfare, and he’s the target.

About a week later Fingers is sitting right next to me, and pulls his signature move:  He reaches out, and helps himself to a peek at another player’s card that is face down on the table.  Bingo.

So I (ask the dealer to) call the floorman to complain again about Roman Fingers’ roaming fingers.  I’m looking for some kind of sanction, and Roman inadvertently helps me!

Most rooms have a rule about foul language, but it’s rarely enforced.  No clue why, but for some reason Fortune Cookie got serious about it, recently put a new list of conduct rules by the front door,  including “No F-Bombs Permitted.  Period.”  Turns out they’re enforcing that — sending violators home — way more strictly than the constantly-violated but never-enforced English Only rule.  Go figure.

At first the floorman tells Roman that he’s barred for 24 hours for touching another player’s cards.  Great!  Good Job!  Maybe that’ll get his attention, and get those fingers under control.

But then, during the ensuing “discussion” Roman lets fly the F word not once, not twice, but THREE times.  Thank you!   So I interrupt to remind the floorman about that new sign by the door, then lie with a straight face, and tell him how deeply disturbing and offensive all that foul language was to me in particular, and probably to everyone else.

So the 3 F-Bombs turned a one day barring into one week, and over the next few days, when more than a couple people mentioned how “...Sarge got Fingers kicked out…” I had to correct them, with the truth:   “No, Fingers got Fingers kicked out.”

He’s back now, but under permanent close surveillance every second.  By me. 

Ladies Love Me

OK, now we’re finally caught up to present day.  Day before yesterday was a bad one too, when with pocket Kings I got even more stupid than usual, and screwed it up so badly that—

• I don’t wanna talk about it.
• I just cashed out and went straight home, to sulk.

So then next day, yesterday, I came into play, but felt tenuous about it, wanting so very much to avoid getting stupid again.  Fortunately, some ladies came along, and showed me some real love, and after that I felt all better.

Fortune 20 Main game, seat 3, 0100 hours, UTG, and when my first card was Queen of Spades, The Lady with a Blade, I somehow got this feeling of expectation, and just had to squeeze out the second card to find — Yes! —  her sister, Queen of Clubs.  Raise!

Jungman three bets right behind me in Seat 4, and random white guy in Seat 8 says four.  SEVEN players in, so 28 bets already, and we ain’t even seen a flop yet.

Then it comes:  Nothing much.  Turn and River bring nothing memorable either;  Ten high, no flush, maybe a real unlikely straight possible.

Sometimes you need to bet and raise to protect your hand, or for value, or both.  This time I’m thinking there’s not much I can do to protect these ladies; nobody is gonna fold overcards, and preflop action says I may already be up against Aces or Kings anyway.  But maybe not :-)

Capped again on the flop, five way, one raise on the turn, and every time it gets to me I’m getting better than the 23-to-1 pot odds needed to spike a set!  Remarkable.  Jungman and Seat 8 are doing all the betting, and I just hang on like a wuss.

Jungman bets the river too, and still gets two callers!  I don’t much like overcalling, and can’t remember EVER over-over-calling, but holy crap, now there’s 62 bets in this pot!  So is there better than one chance in 30 that my ladies are good?

They were.  Jungman shows down Jacks, everyone else moans, and I stack a small mountain.

Pocket Queens again an hour later, and I three bet from the blind.  Different guy in Seat 8 now, a young Maniac; he had just limped, but now it’s been raised twice behind him, and he caps!  Sandbagged a monster?  No, more likely he’s thinking “Hey, let’s build a big pot, and maybe I’ll get lucky!”

And he did, too.  Kind of.

Board comes 9 8 4, 2, 2.  Capped five way on the flop again, this time with a flush draw out there, and another (backdoor) flush draw on the turn card, so this time I am protecting the ladies, pumping it every chance I get.  But the Maniac is pumping too, and I tentatively have to put him on 9 8, for two pair.

Close.  Turned out Maniac capped preflop with 9 4 offsuit, so has a different two pair, and that  lovely deuce on the river counterfeits him, disappoints the drawing hands, and makes me a better two pair.  Thank you!  I was pretty sure I liked that river, *almost* bet it, but still five handed, SIXTY EIGHT bets in this pot, and if I were a better player maybe I could have read them all, bet, and won a few more chips.  Instead, now I checked, inviting someone to bluff at it, but nobody did.

Real Big Brass Balls

Remember the guy who held up a Bellagio craps pit at gunpoint a few years ago, scored a boatload of high denomination chips, then ran out and escaped on a motorcycle?  When they finally caught him and a photo was published, Mrs. Rock and I looked at it and both said "Wow. I know that guy!  Played with him at Bellagio!"

Rolling Stone recently published his story, here.  Interesting read.

Arrogance

This is a post about good times, and bad words.

The good time was our longest-ever road trip, last summer, during WSOP.  Booked 19 nights at Bellagio, but we stayed a full month.  Then on to The Commerce, for 4 free nights on points from last year's trip, but we stayed there a full month, too, because once you're there, it's hard to leave a place where all under one roof you can find:

•   Four or more $40/80 games every day.
•   A nice 3.5 star hotel.
•   Starbucks coffee.
•   Genuine Playboy Bunnies dealing pit games and delivering cocktails.

The bad words aren't the kind that will make Mom wash your mouth out with soap.  By themselves, these words aren't really bad at all, but the human behaviors, personality traits, actions and attitudes that they describe are, well, unfortunate.  Unattractive.  Pitiful.  Pathetic.  Bad.  And sometimes it just seems like we see these things perhaps a little more at the poker table than in other aspects of life.  

These are words like:  Arrogant.  Narcissistic.  Cruel.  Rude.  Stupid.  Ignorant.

---

We left home June 12, drove to Boise, and spent the night.  Next day on to Twin Falls, hang a right, south through Jackpot and Wells, and we spent night two in Ely, a couple hundred miles north of Vegas, at the ancient Hotel Nevada.

Fun place.  6 deck blackjack with good rules, dealt deep, but $25 max bet.  Low roller heaven.

Friday and Saturday, locals come in from all around, sign up on a chalkboard alongside the lone poker table in the corner of the tiny casino, and at 7:00pm they crank it up:  POT LIMIT HOLD 'EM, with $1 and $2 blinds.

Yup, that's their game, most everyone knew everyone, and few of them were younger than me.  I have zero experience or know-how at any structure besides Limit, but sat in this wacky throwback game anyway, "just for fun," I told myself.

It had been some years since I sat in a 10 handed game, and even longer since I'd seen smoking allowed at the table.  It was also the slowest game ever, in large part because the dealer was also the cashier.

And once it finally got going, it was a limpfest.  Then I got AA under the gun, and was quickly reminded that I had no frickin' clue what I was doing in this game.  Got up soon thereafter, to go sleep for the drive to Vegas in the morning.  For some dumb reason I'm thinking I might like to prepare some, then go back there sometime and try that game again.

---

Parked the CR-V in the Bellagio garage Sunday at 1:00 pm, wheeled our bags into the lobby, and ran into the longest check-in line ever.  It seemed like a never ending queue, snaked around and around in circles, filling the lobby.  Shit.  This is gonna take forever.

Then I noticed the "Invited Guests" desk, off to one side, one guy there, with nobody behind him.   I thought to myself that, in this context, Invited means Comped, and I don't qualify.  Then I thought about that What Happens in Vegas slogan, and isn't this exactly the right moment for a WCBSA (World-Class Bullshit Artist) like me to take the shot?

So I zipped over there, just as that one guy finished.  Stepped right up, they never blinked, and we beat the long line, got checked-in quickly, and they even sent a refrigerator to our room, for the duration, no charge.  Thank you.  Sometimes, all you gotta do is ask!

---

Arrogance

"An insulting way of thinking or behaving that comes from believing that  you are better, smarter, or more important than other people." (Merriam-Webster)

            
Doesn't it seem like we see lots of this at the poker table?   It it just the people in my games, or do you find that too?   For me, it  seems to happen in varying degrees, like  Minor, Medium, and Extreme.

Arrogance I — Minor, Low Level Stuff

It doesn't make you a bad person, so please don't feel too bad if you do any of these things.  Most players do at least some of them, and nobody else seems to find these behaviors objectionable.  So it’s probably just me.  Really.

Private Showing

Often times after a bet and no call, the bettor might then show his cards, but only to his neighbor(s), or to the guy that folded, or perhaps only to the distant end.  

Sometimes it happens before the flop, when a player shows his neighbor(s) the hand he's folding.  And sometimes cards are even exposed to a live player who hasn't acted yet.

Isn't that arrogant, rude and disrespectful?  
Doesn't that say "Hey, screw you guys.  I know the rule is Show One, Show All, but no.  I'll just show who I want."

Toss the Dog a Bone.  

If you want to toke the floorman, do you throw him a chip, as though you were throwing a treat to your dog?  Isn't that arrogant too?  And demeaning.  While you're at it, why don't you rub his belly and tell him what a good boy he is?                                              

The Cover-up.  

Bet and called on the river, and your opponent turns over his hand, but doesn't spread the cards.  With one partly covering the other, you can't see what he has.

I call that arrogant too.  If you do that to me, you're wasting time, because I'm just going to wait for my turn, and wait until you show down properly.

And if the dealer tries to tell me what you have, she's wasting time too.  In poker, I have a strict policy of NEVER trusting my ears, but ONLY trusting my eyes.   So I'll tell her,  "Thanks, but hearing about it doesn't help.  Sorry.  May we SEE IT, please?"

Don’t Touch!  

Suppose we’re sitting beside one another, and the dealer accidentally pitches your card more towards me than you.  Should I do you a favor, and slide it over to you?  That’s what most players do in this situation.  Me?  No freakin’ way.

Instead, I’m going to move my own card(s), and my hands, AWAY from your maverick card, and give you plenty of space to reach over and retrieve it yourself.  I mean, only the tiniest chance, but what if I touch it, and accidentally flip it over?

It’s not like I ever gave this a lot of thought, or read it in a book, or otherwise was taught by anyone to never touch any cards at the table, except the two dealt to me.  And it’s not like I’m particularly trying to observe proper etiquette, or be a good citizen.  No.  Quite honestly, the real reason I could never touch your cards, or the board, muck, deck or pot is:  Cowardice.  

That right, fear.  I’m afraid.  I’m not gonna put my fingers in the fan, or on a hot stove burner, or a live electric socket, and most times am not going to be touching you, or any other person, either.  I know where my hands belong, and where they don’t belong, and am not willing to accept the consequence of (take responsibility for) arrogantly putting them where they’re not supposed to be.  

Here’s an example of what can happen when one player touches another’s cards:

An Assist on the Play

Commerce 40/80, and I'm in Seat 3, looking at the ugliest man in the room:  Slobadong  Milosodik, in Seat 1.

Just how ugly is he?  Put it like this:  If I had a dog that ugly, I would shave his ass, and make him walk backwards.

OK, wait a minute.  I made it sound like the man is physically unattractive, just so I could slip in that [hilarious?][stupid?] old Army joke about shaving the dog.  

Actually, he doesn't look all that bad.  Well dressed, nice wavy hair, good skin, white teeth, gold jewellery.  But if we can have inner beauty, then can't we also be frighteningly ugly on the inside?  That's Slobo.

His accent suggests that Slobo may be from someplace East of Italy, South of Hungary, and North of Greece.

His demeanor and behavior reveal that Slobo is a cruel bully who likes to degrade and denigrate pretty much anyone, especially a player that beats him, and/or the dealer who brought that beat.  And if the target of his obnoxious vitriol happens to be a lady, then Slobo turns on the misogyny right away.

Like we said, as ugly as it gets.

So Slobo open raises under the gun, and it's muck, muck, muck, all the way around to Little Miss Saigon, in Seat 7.

Except she's not there.  I guess she asked to be dealt in; two cards await her action, but the chair is vacant.  The dealer motions for somebody to send the hand in, and the upstate New York "semi-pro" tourist in Seat 6 responds, but first he grabs her cards, and takes a good look!  Then, by the time he goes to send them in, here comes Missy, running back to the table.

"Wait!  Wait!" she cries.  And they do give her back her hand, and she does call the raise.  Big Blind calls too.

Slobo in Seat 1 has AK, and flops top two pair.  Blind flops a flush draw, and there's plenty of action.  Little Missy has pocket threes, and hangs on with remarkable tenacity, taking the heat and calling the raises.  Then she spikes a set on the river, and makes grown men cry.  No actual tears, but the prolonged high pitched whine is just as bad, if not worse.

Then Slobo thinks about how Missy could never have beat him if her neighbor hadn’t “saved” her hand for her, and he goes off on that so loudly and venomously that the floorman has to come over and shut him up.  

---

Man vs. Machine

Arti.  That's what I call my opponent on the "Artificial Intelligence" poker machines on the casino floor at Bellagio, right outside the poker room.  

Heads Up Texas Hold Em, NO RAKE,  $2/4, $4/8 or $10/20; take your pick.   You can put in a slot club card and get a win-loss statement, but they don't earn any club points or comps.

These machines have been around a few years now, and I like them a lot.  Maybe too much.  I hear some other casinos have them playing higher limits, and/or earning comps.  One pro I really respect told me he dropped $30K playing $40/80 against Arti at [some other casino].  Ouch.

To arrive at the optimal Heads Up strategy, Arti's programmers would have completely understood something called Game Theory.  Me?  I just barely may have half a clue what that means.

Surprisingly, Arti has a "Peek" button that you can push after the hand is over, and his holecards will be revealed!  If he bluffed you, or you bluffed him, or you (or he) made a good (or bad) laydown, whatever, you get to see it.  Very interesting.  You can also see that, of course, Arti varies his play sometimes.  I guess the "random" frequency of those variations is a big part of all that Game Theory stuff.

I played against Arti some, as best I could, on a couple previous trips, and didn't do so well.  But I stayed with the lowest $2/$4 limit, so neither did I get hurt too badly.

After the last trip I went home and thought about it quite a lot, decided to take a different approach, and arrived at my own non-scientific strategy for play against Arti.  Here it is:

Heads Up against a human opponent, if you play way overly aggressive, bluffing far too often, and pretty much always representing a hand, it won't take long at all for her to pick up on it.  Then, once she has your number, she can optimally counter all that, and should be able to bleed you dry.

But playing against Arti is like that movie, 50 First Dates.  Arti has no memory from one hand to the next; he doesn't know you from Adam, and for all he knows, or cares, he could be facing a different opponent on every deal.

And so, I decided, yes, against Arti I should be "way overly aggressive, bluffing far too often, and pretty much always representing a hand."  And that's basically what I did this time, part-time for a month, rough guess 5,000 deals.  At $2/$4, that's lots of fun, and this time I did OK, and won a few hundred bucks.

One time I sat down and on the first hand raised with pocket deuces, flopped a set, and a raising war ensued.  Then I see that the pot is over $150, and discovered that I was inadvertently playing $10/20.  Forgot to check what limit was set before I started, and the last guy had been way braver than me.  Turned out Arti had AA, and I won.  Phew.

Mission Accomplished?

So can I declare victory?  Does this trip win mean I can beat the machine, and should move up in limits?  Hardly.  My month of part-time play is too small a sample size to be at all significant.  But it was encouraging, and I look forward to some more $2/$4 machine play next time we get to Vegas.

---

Bad River

Bellagio 40/80.  I have pocket Kings, and the board comes K 9 8, 4, 9.  

Heads up on the turn, and we go five bets.  

Then he checks the river, I check too, and he shows me quad Nines.  I felt pretty OK about how:  

• He checked the nuts on the end, and;
• I didn't fall for it.  

So in spite of losing the big pot, I put this hand in the victory column.  Call me crazy.

Amazing Grace

Diamond Lil's 20/40.  Tom has a big pair, and goes all-in heads-up against Doc, who performs a surgical but unlikely river suckout, and takes the pot.

"Nice hand," Tom says.  Then he stands up, takes out his wallet, and heads towards the cashier.  

"Here," adds Tom, the biggest mensch since Pope Francis.  "Let me go get you some more chips."

---

                              

Arrogance II - Medium Level

Gimme, Gimme

How about when you get called on the river, show down, and you think  you've won.  Do you reach into the pot and start grabbing chips?  Take back your last bet?  Many players do this.  To me, that seems arrogant, even if you turn over the stone nuts.  Plus:

Q:  When is it OK for a player to put his fingers into the pot?

A:  Never.

Unless, of course, you're one of the lucky few who are "special."   Then you can ignore the rules, and do as you please.      

Leisure Suit Larry is a champ at this.  For him, it’s an involuntary reflex, and he’ll pretty much always start grabbing and stacking chips right away, if he just *thinks* he turned over the best hand. He did it to me the other day, on a fourflush board, where my straight beat his two pair.   The dealer and I both had to prompt him to return the last bets he had taken back, and he claimed he didn’t realize that he had done it.

Like a Boss

Some players like to tell the dealer, or the floorman, how to do his job, and how to run the game.  Some nerve, huh?  Where these people get off, thinking it's their place to give such instruction, I'll never know.

The Laugh's On You

At the showdown sometimes players will laugh at the loser, or maybe even the suckout winner, and will ridicule his play.  This is particularly common at Diamond Lil's, where the regular cadre of players know one another all too well.

Arrogant?  Disrespectful, at least.  I never wanted to laugh at anyone after one of us beat the other.

Keep 'Em Waiting

You're eating, or distracted by your phone, tablet or the bigscreen TV, or talking to a waitress, masseuse, or whomever, and don't realize that it's your turn to act.  So the dealer, or maybe a player, might prompt you, and let you know the action is waiting on you.  Doesn't this happen to everyone now and then?

Sure.  But some guys don't respond immediately.  Some guys continue whatever else they're doing, and happily keep the entire table waiting while, for example, they finish giving their lunch order, or digging for cash to give the chip runner.

Arrogant.

---

Dirty Play

Commerce 40/80.  I'm Big Blind, in seat 7, and stoic little Maggie is the Small Blind, right beside me in 6.  

Here's a very nice but stonefaced lady who can go two hours without saying a single word.  Well, I just love a challenge, so sometimes I make it my personal mission to say something that will make her smile.  A couple times I actually made her laugh.  Wasn't easy, believe me.

Sleazy Jo Jo open-limps under the gun in 8, and it's muck, muck, muck, around to Sally (some random lady) in seat 3.  She raises.  The Cutoff, Button, Maggie, and I, all fold.

So now the Sleaze the Limper is heads up with Sally the Raiser, and at this point he can call, reraise, or fold.  Right?

But he does none of those things.  Instead, he puts his fingers into the pot, takes back his limp-bet, and asks Sally "Do you want the profit?"

She neither responds nor seems to understand, so Sleaze repeats the question, verbatim.  Sally still doesn't get it, so the player beside her starts explaining that Sleaze wants to surrender now, if he can have his limp back.  

Meanwhile, Sleaze mucks his hand, and the typically oblivious Commerce dealer pushes the remaining pot (our blinds) to Sally.

And now she gets it.  Well, almost.  Seemingly unaware that Sleaze ALREADY took back his bet, Sally tosses ANOTHER 4 chips across the table to him, and he puts those on his stack too, without hesitation.

Then two guys point out how Sleaze just got his bet back TWICE, and that he needs to send those last 4 chips back to Sally.  So he does.  Reluctantly, it appears.

I watched all this, incredulous, and still regret today that I didn't react right away.  The next hand was already in progress by the time I processed it all, and realized how badly we'd just been screwed.  And by then it was too late.  

Were I not such a dullard — were I at that moment better able to "think fast" — I should have immediately called for the floorman, described what just went down, then  demanded  politely requested that either:

a.  Maggie and I get our blinds back, or;
  b.  He bust Sleaze for stealing chips from the pot.

And you can bet I'll be watching Sleaze like a hawk from now on.  I ain't falling for his shit again, ever.

---

Ignorant vs. Stupid

Do you know how to fly a 747?  No?  Me neither.  So in that sense, we're both ignorant.

But I'd bet that either of us *could* complete ground school, and flight school, take all the lessons, and fly that puppy just fine.  After all, we're not stupid.

At least that's what I was taught:  That stupid lacks mental capacity, but ignorant just didn't learn [whatever] yet.  So, for example, in those horrible “cultures” that don’t let girls go to school, illiterate women are ignorant only because they were denied the opportunity to learn.  Doesn't mean they're stupid.

That was a clear distinction, but sometimes it's not so easy to decide whether something is stupid, or ignorant.  Take the betting rules at Bellagio, and Commerce.  All their tables have what was originally a "betting line" oval, and when chips crossed that line, on the cloth or just on your hand, that was a bet.  Fine.  Simple rule, easy to understand, not much wiggle room.

Except for one small detail.  They’ve changed the rules at both those places, and it not a betting line any more.   At  The Commerce, you can put down four, or eight chips, as appropriate, just in front of your stack, six inches BEHIND that line, and that’s a bet.  Furthermore, as I learned THE HARD WAY a few years ago, any forward motion, with chips in your hand, is a bet, cross the line or not.

OK, those rules are fine too, so long as they’re consistent, and understood.  But why is that oval betting line still on the table at Commerce?   

And why is the line still on the tables at Bellagio?  Staff there couldn’t answer, but they did tell me “We don’t use it.”   And forward motion means nothing there; it’s not a bet until you “cut chips on the cloth.”

So, again, both places have a Betting Line on the table that is not really a Betting Line at all.  It’s just there for decoration.  And that, friends, qualifies for the somewhat unusual status of being BOTH ignorant AND stupid.  

Another qualifier for that dubious “Ignorant AND Stupid” status is the pervasive and sincere belief, among so many players, that the dealer is somehow personally responsible, and should be blamed, for their bad luck.  You see these people, you hear their whine, and you have to wonder how anyone so unacquainted with reality can manage to survive the complexities and intricacies of life in the real world.

---

Basic Training, Day 1, Lesson #1

Protect your Hand.  This isn't about betting or raising to protect your equity in the pot.  That comes later.

This is about a more basic and rudimentary skill:  Keep a tight grip on the cards dealt to you, shield them from anyone else's view, and, most importantly, release them at the showdown only:

  1.  In exchange for the pot, when you win, or;
  2.  When you clearly see that you are beat.

Did we just call that a skill?  It's not.  It's just a simple idea, so obvious, that it should come intuitively, to anyone, without even thinking about it. That's why this type of concept is named after me! They call it a No Brainer.

Example:

DL 20/40.  Shouter Mole has pocket Kings, and flops a set against MD and Elvis.  Lots of bets and raises.  The pot gets large.

On the end, Shouter shows MD his Kings, and MD mucks.  So Shouter throws his hand into the muck too, and expects/prepares to receive the pot.

Too bad Shouter ¿forgot? all about Elvis, who still has a hand!

Too bad the floorman checked the camera, and saw that Shouter only "showed" (exposed) his hand to MD, but didn't actually table his cards; he didn't "show down."

Too bad that Shouter didn't seem to like it one bit when Elvis didn't even have to show, and was awarded the pot.

And really too bad— a damn shame, if you ask me— that Shouter learned nothing from that sad event.  More than once since then he sat beside the dealer, left his hand unprotected, and the dealer took it into the muck.  The floor was called, but it was Tough Luck, Chuck both times.  A few other times he flung his cards to show down, or released prematurely, or otherwise totally failed to protect his hand.

---

Stupid Question of the Month

Q:  Who raised?

A:  The guy with eight chips in front of him.

---

No Respect

Diamond Lil’s 20/40 at 3:00am.  8 Pacific Rim ESL guys, and me.  I’m glad to be in Seat 3, since Crazy Henry is in 2, and raising nearly every hand.  

Mrs. Rock and I just call him that, between ourselves, but there’s really nothing crazy at all about Henry.  English is not his first language, but he’s mastered it, and is a very smart and educated guy, engaged and engaging, and very much in tune with, well, everything.  Only one guy looked at my huge new (old) Samsung phone and recognized the Galaxy MEGA right away.  Henry.  I only take stock tips from one guy at DL.   Henry.  Good tips, too.

Henry's wife sits behind and watches him sometimes, and they might drink a bit together.  She's really nice, and just as articulate as he, if not more so.  The vanity plate on their car, maybe the sweetest thing I ever saw, reads:   REALOVE.

But in spite of all that, Henry plays Hold Em like a Maniac.  Most times his basic strategy is:  Steamroller.   And that sure was his mode on this night, so, like I say, I was happy to be right behind him, in the cutoff, when he open raises, as usual,  and I look down to find KT Spades in the pocket.

No way I’m calling.  Against many [most?] opponents, I’m probably folding.  But against this wildman?  Three Bet.  He caps, and we’re heads-up.

Why 3 bet in that spot?  Maybe my reraise should intimidate a tough opponent, and enable me to pick up the pot if neither of us flops anything?

That almost sounds right, except Henry is NOT a tough opponent, and is NOT gonna lay down just because he didn’t flop anything.  

So let’s try again.  Why 3 bet in that spot, this time?  How about because my KTs will be better, on average, than the “any two cards” Henry will raise with.  In this case, yes, I like that better.  And I liked the two spades on the flop too, as that should empower me to play aggressively, and maybe I can bet/raise, and win, and don’t even need to get there.

Oops, wrong again.  That might be true with some opponents, but not Henry.  He’s just not big on folding.  As it turned out, I did raise my flush draw on the flop, but he 3 bet.  Then he bet the turn and river, and my spade never did come.  I didn’t even make a pair.

So I have nothing, have burned a bunch of chips, and should probably fold.  I mean, I can’t remember the last time (if ever) that I called anyone with King high.

But, again, this is Henry, so this is different.  There are 19 small bets in the pot, and it costs me 2 to call.  So is there better than one chance in 9.5 that he has a worse nothing than me?  This guy?  Yes.  So I put it in, he says “Good call,” shows the two small cards, no pair, that he bet all the way, and my King wins.  Fine.  I’m happy to be stacking chips, don’t feel like making  any smartass remarks, and just keep quiet.

But not Henry.  And not Smilin’ John, down there in Seat 6 with a big stack of Chirpin' Chips.  They, and LC Fedora in 8, and Shouter Mole in 9,  all laugh at me, and offer plenty of loud ridicule over my  “crazy” and “unbelievable” and “desperate” play.  I nod in agreement, and laugh along with them.

They don’t understand that the unusual play of this hand was quite atypical, and entirely situational.  I'm not at all motivated to explain, and am perfectly happy to let them think me a fool.  Who knows, they may be right!

---

Level III:  EXTREME Arrogance

Above the Law


Richard Nixon thought he was above the law, and it cost him the presidency.  So if The Leader of the Free World can't get away with it, what makes poker players in a public cardroom think they can ignore the rules, and do whatever they please?

Simple.  When the cardroom cares more about bottom line profits than game integrity, you can play fast and loose with the rules.  Well, within limits.  Nobody gets away with with gross felonies like marking, crimping, daubing or switching cards, or stealing chips, unless they're skillful enough to go undetected.

But other, lesser transgressions are rarely challenged.  Every day, we see players put their fingers where they don't belong, like into the muck, cards on the board, the pot, or another player's cards or stack.  Fearing repercussions, they probably wouldn’t try to put their hands into the cash drawer at the supermarket or the bank, nor on some other guy’s wife.  But in the cardroom, the player with no respect for you, or for the rules, will generally do whatever he thinks he can get away with. Ignoring the English Only rule is a good example.

Giving Orders

I talked about my policy of only trusting my eyes, and never my ears, at the poker table.  Another strict policy is that I would never argue with another player, nor try to tell them what to do, nor what not to do.  And when another player tries to tell me what (not) to do, I respond not at all, but instead show them how it feels to be ignored.

Isn't that extremely arrogant, when one player tries to order other players around?  First off, why should they listen to me?  And what’s the chance, right or wrong, that I’m gonna win any kind of an argument, anyway?  Change the other guy’s mind, get him to see it my way?  Fat chance.  

So if I have a problem with something in the game, first I ask myself if it’s even worth pursuing, or maybe I should just pass, and pick another battle, another time?

Then, if it is worth pursuing, I'll speak about it only to the dealer or floorman.  Examples might include asking them to “please show all” some exposed cards, or can they “please stack those bets” that players splashed out there.

Sometimes it gets weird.  Sometimes, not often, you need to get creative to affect a desired and necessary change in a player's behavior.  Like the following example, where I kinda had to play Undercover Cop.

Mrs. Fingers

Commerce 40/80.  Medium-big pot, bets and a couple raises, multi-way.  I'm in Seat 5, and when the flop betting round is complete, the lady beside me in 6 "helps" the dealer bring in the chips, by pushing them towards the center with the palms of both hands.

I've known and played with this lady, and her husband, for years.  They're both smart and very entertaining, and she's particularly funny in the game.  I guess the only thing I don't much like about them is that they both play too well, and don't give anything away.

"Don't touch those chips!" I yelled at her.  "Keep your fingers out of the pot!"  I hollered.

Well, no, I didn't.  That's not me.  But I sure wanted to, because players' hands in the pot is intolerable.  Period.

So if not yell, and confront the culprit, probably a bad choice, then what is a good choice?  What's the best thing I can do, that can MAKE IT STOP?

"Time, please!" I tell the dealer.  "Sorry—  I apologize for this—   but when a player touches the pot like that, I just get too nervous to continue.  

"So whenever that happens, I have to ask you to stop, and count the pot down.  Sorry, but that's my policy."

There's that word again, but out loud this time:  Policy.  And isn't it a nice word for this context?  Sounds kind of official, maybe even authoritative, doesn't it?

So the dealer starts counting it down, and right away a couple players moan, and start whining about how much time we're wasting.  But then, bless 'em, a couple others say that they don't like players touching the pot either.

Bottom line is that a clear "No Fingers in The Pot!" message was sent, but disguised in an apparently apologetic tone, without getting personal, accusatory, confrontational, or otherwise ugly about it.

Mrs. Fingers kept them in fair territory after that, and we're still buds.

Because I Can

You like Seat 3, and always move there if you can.  Hey, me too!   8 is my real favorite, but 3 is a close second.  Lucky numbers?   Maybe for you, but for me it's more of a Feng Shui Planetary Alignment kind of a thing.

Anyway, since you're a far reach from the dealer, maybe you could be considerate, show a little human kindness, and send your cards and chips in for her?  Just a little?

But no, Dr.Torture, you like to stack your bets and fold your cards 2 inches in front of your stack, way out there in left field, and make her stand up and reach for them.  Especially if you're running bad today.

Why?  Because you can.  Simple as that.  It's not easy to find a venue where you can screw with people like that, again and again, and get away with it.  And you really enjoy that, don’t you?

Everyone's true character shows itself at the poker table, and you are no exception.  Hell, you're more like the poster child for that axiom.  And that's the part I can't figure out.  Why would you want to show everyone what a lowlife you are, day after day?  Shouldn't you more likely want to keep it a secret?

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Administrivia

If you’re new to this blog, you should probably want to go back and read all the old posts.  Well, unless you actually have a life; then you may have better things to do.  In that case, let me please recommend one favorite, from January 2011:   Cheap Thrills.

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