A Strange Lowball Play

Some say that lowball offers no occasions for moves, for subtlety, for what I call plays. I disagree, because more elements are part of lowball than other games. Not only can you make moves by your bets, you also have the additional tool of drawing. Whether you draw and how many cards you draw augment your betting options.

Recently I had the opportunity to employ some of that subtlety.

I was in a fivehanded $20 limit (straight limit) game. It wasn't much of a game, and I was thinking of leaving for hold'em or pan, choices that seemed better than this game. In the cutoff seat, I picked up 9-5-2-2-A, a one-card draw to a 9. Normally I would open with this hand on the button, but not one off the button. But the player to my left, on the button, was very tight and showed me a lot of respect. He would need a good hand to call if I opened. The small blind was giving off a tell that indicated he would likely fold. This was a good spot for a semisteal; that is, my hand was likely to be better than those of the two other players who might call – and they might fold, thus surrendering the $18 in blinds to me. If I got a call, it would most likely be from the big blind, who typically would draw two cards. My one-card draw to a 9, while not a very good hand, was better than any two-card draw. Even if the big blind took one, my own one-card draw would not be much worse than that of the big blind. So, even if his draw was better than mine, the extra $8 in the pot would still provide me with positive expectation. (The dealer blind was $5, as was the middle blind; in a fivehanded game, the house took a $2 rake.) And if the button or big blind raised, I still had the option of drawing two cards to a wheel (discarding both the 9 and a deuce from the pair).

The button did not fold, however; he called. I need to say more about this player. Not only was he a tight, solid player, he was also a loudmouth who liked to criticize others' play, calling them tight. This he did to draw attention away from his own tight play. He hardly ever stopped talking. He was one of those players about whom others say, "He talks loose and plays tight." If he was third in a pot with a monster draw – say, to a 6 or better – he wouldn't raise. I would normally raise with such a hand. Doing so increases my variance, but it also increases my win rate. But then, I play a high-variance game. My swings are much wilder than those of the plodders, whose favorite play is check and call, and who rarely raise on the come, but my overall wins are higher. As one noted RGPer axiomatically puts it, "Variance is your friend." It may be my friend, since my bankroll can weather big swings, but it is no friend to a tight player on a limited budget. While I do not name this loudmouth directly, his appellation is actually cleverly hidden within one of the early paragraphs of this screed. The important point here is that he believed his own criticism of my play; he gave me a lot of respect. If I opened a pot, he likely would raise only with a pat hand, and not just any pat hand. It would mostly be a pat 8 or better; he probably would not play a pat 9 against me. Interestingly, I would play one against him in the right situation.

The two blinds folded, leaving just me and Mr. Loudmouth in the pot. Now I had a dilemma. If he was drawing, it was undoubtedly to a better hand than mine. If I drew one card to the 9, I would make the better hand perhaps 45 percent of the time. The trouble is, I would be risking an extra bet here, because if I made the 9, I would pass and call every time he bet. Unfortunately, most of the time, he would have me beat. I could also draw two cards, trying to make a betting hand. In that case, I would win, if he drew, a bit more than one-third of the time; many of those times, I would win an extra bet. The trouble with my drawing two cards is that if he had a 10 in his hand, perhaps a hand like 10-7-4-2-A, he would then stand on the 10, reducing my chances of winning to just over one-fourth of the time. And if he had something like a 9-4, planning on drawing one card if I drew one, he definitely would stand on the 9. I thought there was a better way to win this pot. I would just stand pat and bet, hoping he would make a hand with which he could not call. (I had assumed that since he hadn't raised, he would be drawing one card.) I figured he would not call with a 10 or worse, and might very well not call with a 9 if he caught one. Thus, he would call only about 40 percent of the time. Although I was risking one more bet, the first one didn't really count; it was already gone. My new bet should be considered as entirely independent. The pot already contained nearly three bets; I would be putting in one bet to win three. If the situation came up 10 times, six of those times I would win $58, for a win of $348, and four times I would lose $20, for a loss of $80. My net in 10 times would be a healthy $268, or $26.80 per bet.

Accordingly, I rapped pat – and Mr. Loudmouth rapped pat right behind me.

Now I had another dilemma. I could just check and essentially give up. I figured he had something like a 9 or even a rough 8, with which he had been afraid to raise me.

He had good reason to have this fear. Earlier in a killed pot, I had opened with 9-7-5-2-A. Only the player who killed the pot played, and that player raised. I immediately reraised. The killer called. I stood pat, and the killer, who had raised to draw one to a 6 with the joker, drew his one card. I checked, and the killer just showed his hand: He had paired. Most of the other players at the table would have played my hand differently. They either would have called and stood pat, or called and drawn one. The first option is not a bad one, because the killer would still be drawing his one card. The second option is bad if you know the killer is drawing, because you go from having the best of it – a pat 9 against a one-card draw – to having the worst of it – drawing one to a 7 against someone drawing one to a much better hand. Of course, standing pat is a risky play, because the raiser may already have that beat. My play was high variance, but, as I said, I play a high-variance game. Mr. Loudmouth, knowing that I was quite capable of such a play, but that I would also make the play with any hand better than his pat 8 or 9, might be prevented from raising, because he would not want to lose three or even four bets on a hand with which, if he was beat, he could escape for only one, or maybe two bets.

Now I had to think. Did he actually have a good hand? Many tight players don't raise when they have a monster if only one person is in the pot so far, hoping to trap other players. Then, if someone else raises, they put in the third bet and build a bigger pot than if they had raised. But the game was short-handed, and, further, I had opened one off the button. There was nobody left to trap besides the two blinds, one of whom had been holding his cards in what looked like a premature attempt to dump them. I eliminated that possibility, so he had to have a pat 8 or 9, and was hoping that by standing pat behind me, if I didn't have a 7 or better, I would just check and he could show his hand down and have risked only one bet on the hand. Well, I wasn't about to just give up. My favorite saying for situations like these, ones in which I inadvertently get sucked into pursuing a bluff, is, "Never say whoa in a mudhole." Accordingly, I bet. If he called, well, I had just lost two bets on a hand many players would not have lost anything on, or, if they had played the hand, would at least have attempted to improve it by drawing. It had originally been my intention to draw to the hand, but now I had exercised the option not available in hold'em or stud; I had decided to determine the actual composition of my final hand by, in this case, electing not to draw. Of course, my choice meant giving up on attempting to make the best hand and, instead, turning my hand into a pure bluff. And then, since my next choice seemed to be either to pass and have him show down his 9 or 8 and take the pot (in other words, give up) or bet and hope he'd fold (that is, give myself a fighting chance of taking the pot), I bet. He thought for a while, which didn't really concern me. Over the years, I have been "sweated" by the best.

Finally, Mr. Loudmouth turned over his cards. He had 7-7-7-5-A. He had been snowing, but he thought I'd be suspicious if he raised, and also more likely to call due to the larger pot he had built, so he hadn't raised. Many expert players realize that the easiest pots to steal are the smallest; build a big pot and you're far less likely to take it on the end with a single bet. When I stood pat and he stood behind me, he had hoped I would check. He would then bet, and if things went the way he planned, I would fold. He would then show his snow, and crow further about my tight play, and supposedly make others think he was a tremendously loose player.

He didn't realize, though, what a bad play that actually was. Had I really had a pat hand, if it was a smooth 9 or a rough 8, I would pass it, and then very likely call. I would reason, as I had earlier, that he could not be slow-playing a good pat hand, because no one remained to trap; thus, he likely had a rough pat hand and was now attempting a bluff with it. Yes, it was possible that he could have something like a 9-4 and hadn't raised because he didn't want me to break a 9-7 to draw to the 7, if that was what I had; but if he had that hand, he wouldn't bet it after we both stood pat. Well, that's just speculation on what he would have done. I didn't get to find that out, of course, because I bet and he folded.

He still showed his cards, though, because he didn't want to miss the opportunity of letting others at the table know that he was capable of a bluff. Since he so rarely bluffed, he certainly wanted this one to be seen, even if unsuccessful. He dumped his cards, and the dealer pushed me the pot.

Normally I don't show bluffs, but I thought it was a wonderful situation that we had both been bluffing and I had outbluffed the bluffer. Accordingly, I first showed him the 9 and then the pair of deuces, and said, "Well, you were snowing, but I beat you to the bet. If I had passed, I couldn't have called your bet." That was true enough, because I had really put him on a moderately rough pat hand, not a complete snow. The very clever play, of course, would have been to pass and then call with my pair of deuces, but I thought of that only in retrospect. I had no idea that if I passed, he would bet. I had thought that if I passed, he would show down. If I had known he was planning on betting if I passed, I certainly would have passed, but then I would have had to have known he was snowing.

Do I now have to play only the nuts when Mr. Loudmouth is behind me and I open, because, having seen this bluff of mine, he will henceforth suspect me of trying a similar play? No, not likely. He will think that what happened was an extremely unusual situation – and he'll be right. I imagine he will continue to give me the same respect he always does. When he sees me make a good laydown, as I often do, he will continue loudly to proclaim how tight I am not to call a pot containing five or six bets for just one more bet – a bet most likely made by him. And he will believe his own propaganda.