Risky Business

Could you define the word "poker"? It's not easy, is it? Like anything else, poker can be defined broadly or elaborately. If you say, "Poker is a card game," you're making a true statement, but you haven't imparted any information that distinguishes it from any other card game. If, on the other hand, your answer is so detailed that it could serve as a rulebook, you've really gone beyond defining, which is the act of conveying essential meaning.

I'm not feeling so ambitious today as to attempt a formal definition, but I would like to commend to your attention a fundamental proposition about poker. After all, we understand the world by making propositions about it. If we propose rationally and precisely, we discover distinctions that lead us to more propositions – which lead, in turn, to finer and still finer distinctions. Such distinctions lead to knowledge and understanding – and if we're lucky enough to find it, to wisdom. Consider a couple of well-worn poker propositions: "Poker is a game of position." And: "Poker is a game of incomplete information." These statements offer insight, but what I have in mind today is of a more essential, more defining nature. So, without any further ado: Poker is a game of risk vs. benefit.

The risk vs. benefit aspect of poker underlies the very structure of the game. When you limp in with a call from early position, and then it's raised and reraised behind you, is poker a game in which you get to say, "Oops, my mistake," and pull your original bet back? Of course not, for the benefit you were seeking when you called one bet is entwined with the risk of the action yet to come (and, obviously, with other risks as well). Indeed, you could play a game very similar to poker without even having cards, but a game without the element of risk vs. benefit wouldn't resemble poker at all.

When a hand of poker comes down to two players – commonly called "heads-up action" – certain rules in poker are adjusted, and certain practices, too. For example, your typical poker rulebook will inform you that in a game in which only three raises are permitted, the rule is automatically waived once the field is reduced to two players.

The reason for this exception is readily evident – the protection provided by the rule is no longer needed, since in heads-up action, each player has control of the brakes and can apply them at any time simply by calling. Since no single player can be trapped between other players' unlimited raising, he is therefore left free to assume as much risk as he can stomach.

But other heads-up customs are not so logically defensible, and I think it's time to take a hard look at them. First, I think blind-chopping is one of the worst things that ever happened to the game of poker. I believe this for several reasons, one being that this practice is at odds with the fundamental risk-vs.-benefit aspect of the game. The structure of the game calls for blind bets, and bets constitute action. According to the rules, action is binding. Why is it, then, that this particular action somehow isn't binding, and that players are allowed to retrieve their bets and receive a special exemption from the risk that inheres in the very fabric of the game?

But blind-chopping is here to stay, and I have no illusions about reversing that trend. There is an unspoken understanding that when the only players left before the flop are those who didn't choose to enter the pot (that is, the blinds), we can let them void the action and proceed to the next hand. Here's the problem, though: When players and floorpeople are unclear regarding the premise that forms an exception, when they fail to define the principle upon which it is based, they tend to misinterpret what that principle is. The result? You end up with more exceptions that have nothing to do with the original premise, and those deviations mutate into still more exceptions that stray ever further from the original idea. In the case of chopping, the first misconception that arose (and it was utterly predictable) was the notion that the exception is triggered when things get down to two players before the flop, as opposed to the two players in the blinds. Well, let's see where that leads:

Player A, in early position, looks down to find ace-rag suited – a hand that plays profitably in a large, multiway pot, but a trap hand against one or two opponents, especially if they've shown strength by raising. It's the kind of holding that you like to find when you're in last position and six people have entered the pot for one bet. In early position, however, Player A can't be sure what kind of price he's going to get for this hand. He can speculate, based on the texture of the game thus far, but he can't be certain. If there's a raise from his immediate left that reduces the field, he's going to be looking at a bad kicker and not enough value to make his flush possibility relevant. After weighing certain factors, he decides to limp in – and things don't proceed as he had hoped. In fact, everyone folds to the big blind. Even though there's been no raise, he's still not getting value. But you know what? That's poker! There aren't any crystal balls at the table – it's a game of position, of incomplete information, and … oh yeah, of risk vs. benefit.

Question: Do you know what isn't poker?

Answer: A game in which the big blind and this player who chose to enter the pot now look at each other and say, "Oh, only two of us? Let's just chop," and grab their bets back – and the dealer lets them do it. It isn't poker because there's nothing special about a two-way pot, as opposed to a multiway pot, that magically exempts the participants from the risks inherent in the game. And remember, at the time the decision (to call) was made, there were more than two players in the hand. Now that those other players have made their decisions, there's absolutely no reason that the completed action shouldn't be binding on everyone. After all, it's certainly binding on those who folded.

Risk vs. benefit is a package deal – when you attempt to extract benefit from the game, you assume the risk of the attempt. What many dealers and floorpeople don't realize is that the failure to respect this fundamental principle is a slap in the face to the players who do. How so? Well, how does a pot get to be heads up in the first place? Obviously, it happens when all of the other players fold. And why did they fold? They folded precisely because it's their understanding that entering the pot necessarily entailed risk – a risk that they decided wasn't worth the perceived benefit.

Often, that decision is a very close call. How do you think they like it, then, when they discover that the principle of risk that defines the game – and defined, indeed, their decision to fold – apparently applies to them, but not to the two players who just made a deal to eliminate it? Such a game is neither fair nor equitable.

All heads-up situations are not created equal. The failure to distinguish between them can lead down a slippery slope – as we'll see next time. Until then …

Please send questions or comments to [email protected].