For Appearance's Sake

Today I'd like to address one of the most fundamental tenets of poker ethics. It's a principle that forms the very bedrock of the poker code, the foundation on which all other poker laws are based. It is this: Poker is a game of individual self-interest. It is not a team game, like football or basketball, but an individual game; as in golf, it is each player against the field. And just as in golf and other individual sports and games, players must never play as a team.

To play as a team is to violate poker's most sacred precept. It corrupts the game and is a slap in the face to all the players who come to the cardroom in the spirit of honest competition. Whether the contest is for low stakes or high, whether its tone is casually friendly or fiercely competitive, it must always be fair, and players should be secure in the knowledge that a single joint interest won't be converging on them from two separate directions.

Note that I said "players should be secure." It is widely assumed that the rules and protocols that govern poker are there to ensure the integrity of the game. That assumption is correct, but woefully incomplete. The truth is that poker rules serve dual functions, and the second of these has to do with preserving the visibility of integrity. While it is of paramount importance to protect the integrity of the game, that's only half the battle – it is also crucial that such integrity be apparent. Otherwise, a game can gain a bad reputation even though no cheating has necessarily occurred – simply because it is conducted under a cloud of doubt and suspicion.

A while back, I was playing in an Omaha high-low game when an incident occurred that illustrates my point. But I have a second reason for telling this story, as well – bear with me.

Two new players entered the game at the same time. One was an older man with a huge wad of cash; we'll call him Player A. Player B was young, and it was obvious these two knew each other. Referring to Player A, the fellow to my left whispered, "This guy's got more moves than a snake." The player on the other side of me offered an appraisal more colorful and less flattering. Talk about a guy's reputation preceding him.

Much of what I observed for the next couple of hours was merely harmless obnoxious behavior. Player A talked a lot, and rarely did his sentences begin with a word other than "I." His patter included many stale chestnuts and bad puns, and a few inane one-liners like: "I was playing tournaments in Baghdad when you were still in your dad's bag." (Your dad's bag? Huh?) Such attempts at holding court resulted in a lot of suppressed groans, although his young companion hung on to every word as if it were spun gold. As to the snakelike moves, I've seen them all before, and they tended to betray his intentions much more often than they disguised them.

Player A took a few shots, but the game's host was on top of things. At one point, he snatched his bet back after there was a raise behind him, but that got straightened out. On another occasion, with only three chips in front of him, he actually looked at his holecards and then had Player B pass him a dozen more chips. That wasn't allowed to fly, either.

The man's poker etiquette was pretty shabby; he acted out of turn more than a few times, and exposed cards, as well – several times in spots where it could have seriously affected the action. But this is a mere prelude. What was far more disturbing was that as the evening wore on, Players A and B spoke more and more openly of the financial partnership they had in this game. Phrases like "the corporation" and "our arrangement" were sprinkled liberally into their conversation. Finally, there was one hand in which Player A bet very aggressively in a multiway pot, and when his young friend won the pot and gave him the friendly needle, Player A just chuckled and said, "What do I care? You're forgetting how this arrangement works. I didn't lose anything just now."

I couldn't believe the nerve of this guy – he was openly crowing about the fact that his "arrangement" enabled him to freeroll against the rest of the field. Since no one else at the table had an insurance policy covering them against the inherent risks of wagering (and losing), I summoned a floorman and described the situation, asking him just how long the rest of us were supposed to listen to this.

Player B protested that I had no business saying anything. He said, "Yeah, I'm bankrolling this guy, so what?" (Why a player with perhaps the largest bankroll in the casino bulging in his pocket needed to be subsidized is beyond me.) Both of them feigned shock and indignation at the very suggestion that there could be any conflict of interest when two players with such an arrangement are sitting at the same table. After taking this position, however, they didn't head to the cage to cash in their respective chips, but instead retired to the nearest empty table and proceeded to settle up!

The good news is that the folks in charge at Hawaiian Gardens Casino promptly took appropriate corrective action – these two players are no longer allowed to play together in the same game.

OK. Given the unfortunate fact that most of us have encountered this kind of behavior at one time or another, what is my second reason for believing that this particular story was worth telling? Well, it sickens me to report this, but you see, Player A was sporting a World Series bracelet.

It was not a bracelet of recent mintage, nor one from the world championship no-limit hold'em signature event. The man is not a high-profile name in the world of poker. Nevertheless, it is my strong personal belief that someone who wears the symbol of victory from poker's most famous tournament ought to consider himself an ambassador for the game, rather than conduct himself like a two-bit angle-shooter. Poker needs role models, and the more prominent, the better. Unfortunately, as in many sports today, there are some who default on this responsibility, choosing instead to conduct themselves with a conspicuous lack of class.

It has always been our custom to name names only when giving credit or acknowledging something positive about a person or an establishment – and so it shall remain. At the same time, I think it's only fitting, when describing events like the above, to sketch a general profile of the parties involved, and to include a relevant detail – in this case, the bracelet. I do so not out of spite, but out of an earnest sense of obligation, for I consider it only fair that unsuspecting players be forewarned. After all, as Shakespeare wrote, "All that glitters is not gold"- and appearances are sometimes deceiving.