Poker Players Love Losers

Poker players love losers. In fact, I believe that most poker players get more enjoyment from watching someone else lose than they get from winning themselves – at least I do. Recently, for example, a guy in our game was steaming with a capital S. This guy, who is one of the funniest people I've ever met, was down, not substantially, but down, nonetheless.

This guy, I'll call him Johnny, raised from early position in the hold'em round of a rotation game. I made it three bets from mid-late position holding a pair of queens, both red. There was one caller from late position, the blinds folded, Johnny capped it, call, call. The flop came ace-rag-rag, all hearts. Johnny bet, I called and the late position player called. The next card was another heart. Johnny started muttering to himself as he checked. I bet, the late-position player folded, and Johnny angrily threw his cards into the muck. I showed the queen-high flush.

"I had you killed on the flop," he said, retrieving and showing his A-J offsuit, no heart, from the muck. "It happens to me every time."

I guess he meant that when he raises from early position with a weakish hand, gets three-bet, stupidly reraises, is temporarily ahead on the flop, and has two players with position on him, he always loses. He was very angry with the dealer, and muttered about it for about 45 seconds after the hand.

I found this immensely enjoyable. Sure, I won a nice-sized pot, but that wasn't it. I win pots all the time. Johnny gave me the added value of emotional validation. Not only did I get his money, I got him upset. There's nothing sweeter. And remember, I like Johnny.

Here's an actual event from our pot-limit game, which goes about three times a week. There's a big pot working and it's heads up. I'm not involved. I mean, the pot is big for our game, which means more than $1,000; there are only two $5 blinds in this game. The river card comes. There's something like a straight or flush possible now; I can't remember the exact sequence or the exact cards, which may go a long way in explaining why I'm not a world-class player.

Anyway, player No. 1, a volatile, unpredictable action player who is the fuel that makes the game go, puts in a pot-sized bet. Player No. 2, thinks, and thinks, and thinks some more. This is entirely understandable, since player No. 1 can have anything – from the nuts to nothing, and everything in between. He's terrible, but his saving grace, the only thing that keeps him from being the worst player in New York, is that he's unpredictable. He plays the nuts the same way that he plays a stone-cold bluff, top pair, third pair, or any other holding.

Player No. 2 finally succumbs, and tosses his hand toward the muck. As the pot is being awarded, player No. 1 picks up the discarded losing hand, turns it over for everyone to see (two queens), and rubs it on the nose of player No. 2. He literally rubbed his nose in it. It's things like this that make life worth living, in my opinion.

It's the same game but a different day. I'm holding A-K offsuit in early position. On the turn, there are three diamonds on the board, including a king. I hold no diamonds. My opponent, a loose cannon, has his wife, as always, sitting behind him to his right. She sits there for hours at a time, never saying a word.

I put in a pot-sized bet of $400. Again, this is a substantial, although not unusual, bet for this game. Dan sits and thinks. His wife leans over and quite audibly says to him, "He has the flush." Besides validating what I already know, that Dan doesn't have a flush, this indiscretion strikes me as being a little, you know, outside the rules. I hold my tongue. Dan calls.

The river comes, and we both check. I show A-K, and Dan shows his A-K. We chop it up. At this point, I say, ever so politely, "Dan, with all due respect, you know, it's one player to a hand."

Dan responds, "She's gotta have fun, too."

Mike May, a very cagey New York pro sitting next to Dan, sort of shakes his head a little bit, at me, and says, "He's got a point, Adam."

And that was it. There was not one word of support for me from Mike or any of my fellow players. Why? Dan's not exactly the big winner in the game; he's action. And besides the financial element, we love losers.