Distinguishing Between OPTAH and 'Cards Speak'

The acronym "OPTAH" stands for "one player to a hand." When I first began playing poker in public cardrooms, the full meaning of this precept was widely understood. No one has the right to play another's hand for him, either by (1) giving him advice about strategy, or (2) alerting him in any way to something about his hand that he might have overlooked. Furthermore, it was understood that the ban against alerting another player "in any way" necessarily meant that players who were not involved in a pot had to refrain from making any comments soliciting the contents of another's hand, or comments about the board's possibilities.

But today, while No. 1 – the ban against outright coaching – is still enforced almost universally, No. 2 is quite a different story. More and more cardrooms are heavily populated with players who ignore this basic poker protocol. As a result, the integrity of the showdown is often compromised, especially in high-low split games. All it takes is for some self-appointed table narrator to blurt out: "Anybody got a low?" Then, suddenly, a pot that was about to be scooped by one player is being split by two.

In a game like Omaha high-low, players regularly hold cards that include multiple draws – and some of those draws are much rougher than others. Imagine a player with a hand such as K-K-8-7, double-suited. He flops a heart flush draw and turns a second draw in diamonds. Sometimes that player is so focused on those big flush draws that he completely forgets about the low side. Heck, with a draw that rough, it isn't so much a matter of forgetting as of never thinking about it in the first place.

If five or six players see the flop, the thought of 8-7 contending for low might never cross his mind. So, even when the pot gets down to only two players, the low possibilities have remained just as nonexistent in this player's thought process.

Let's imagine that on the river, he converts one of his flush draws, but when his opponent shows him an ace-high flush, he gazes at it sadly and looks like he's about to muck his hand. But suddenly the town crier in seat No. 5 exclaims: "What? No low?" And just as suddenly, a player who was about to toss in his cards facedown realizes that he has every reason to turn them up. The next thing you know, he's stacking chips that would have found a home elsewhere – if the local kibitzer had kept his mouth appropriately closed.

Now, it's usually the case that such an indiscretion is exactly that – a careless, unthinking indiscretion, as opposed to a conscious motivation to cheat or alter the outcome of a hand. Unfortunately, that lack of intent in no way changes the fact that one player has helped another to play his hand – at a third player's considerable expense. After all, it should be perfectly obvious that reading one's own hand correctly is the most basic and crucial aspect of playing one's own hand.

It is amazing how often the player who lost half his pot, upon confronting the offender, fails to receive either an apology or a pledge that it won't happen again. Instead, what is often served up is the feeble rationalization: "Oh, come on, he knew he had a low." Such a "defense" is understandably exasperating to the victimized party, for there are, after all, only two possibilities: Either the player knew what he held or he didn't. If he did, there's absolutely no need to solicit the contents of his hand, and if he didn't, there's absolutely no excuse for it.

OK, but now consider a different situation: At the showdown, there are two players left. Both of them turn their cards up, without any prompting from anyone. Player A has a low and Player B shows a set. The dealer grabs a stack of chips with his left hand and another with his right, preparing to push one stack to the high hand and one to the low, when suddenly a player not involved in the pot – let's call him Player X – points out that the dealer has misread one of the hands. It turns out that Player A not only has a low, but a straight as well, a fact that went overlooked not only by the dealer but by Player A himself. So, the dealer kills Player B's set and Player A scoops the entire pot. At this point, Player B tells Player X that he should have minded his own business, that it's "one player to a hand" – which brings us to the title of this column.

What Player B fails to understand is this: The moment a player – on his own – lays a hand flat on the table faceup (assuming he's in for the final bet) is the moment when the OPTAH rule ceases to apply and the "cards speak" rule takes over.

But even that distinction requires some explanation, for in many people's minds, the confusion on this subject is more fundamental. Part of the problem stems from a common misconception about the very meaning of the phrase "cards speak." Indeed, many times I've heard a dealer defend the person who made the correction by pointing out to the irate player: "No, sir, you have to understand, cards speak," at which point comes the response: "Yeah, that's my point, the cards speak – the players are supposed to keep their mouths shut! It's one player to a hand!"

This, of course, is a gross misinterpretation of what the phrase actually means. "Cards speak" refers to the principle that the value of any hand is to be found in its face value; in other words, the hand speaks for itself. But that is not to say that it speaks by itself. (The last time I looked, cards couldn't literally talk). The "cards speak" slogan is meant to convey that a hand is what it is, regardless of whether anyone initially misreads what it is. To put it another way: The cards speak, but if the dealer mishears them, anyone who notices the miscommunication has a right to repeat what the cards actually "said."

In fact, in many clubs today, the players not only have a right to do so, but an obligation. While it is not yet industrywide, the following rule is popping up in more and more poker rulebooks: "Any player … who witnesses an incorrect amount of chips put into the pot, or an error about to be made in awarding a pot, has an ethical obligation to quickly halt the action and correct the problem." Clearly, no player should have to take flak for fulfilling what the house defines as an ethical obligation.

Remember: Unless and until a player turns his cards up, those cards have no identity. His hand is his responsibility alone, and no one can help him with it, even by helping him to recognize what he holds. If he fails to notice the difference between a club and a diamond, that's nobody's problem – or business – except his, but once those cards are faceup on the felt, they are in the public domain. At that point, a spade is a spade and a flush is a flush – and the best hand is supposed to win.