Random Thoughts in Closing

I have been writing this column for a little less than a year now. It's been a rewarding experience on several levels. I actually enjoy the craft of writing and the process of crystallizing thoughts and transforming them into the written word. I have also been fortunate enough to garner kind words of praise about my literary skills and poker-hand analyses. These happily received words arrived both in person and in e-mail form. I thank each and every one of you who took the initiative to contact me.

At this time, I cannot help but think my work in this arena has come to a stopping point. Granted, seven-card stud is a complex game, and along with that complexity goes a litany of subtopics that I theoretically could address for many issues to come. However, I have personally hit a proverbial brick wall in my ability to come up with new and interesting notions. Although it may sound lofty, I partially chalk up my reluctance to continue my column on a regular basis to some semblance of artistic integrity. In other words, I do not wish to become repetitive, or recycle/repackage the same concepts ad infinitum. That being said, Card Player and I have come to an informal agreement that I may contribute future columns on an occasional basis if I choose to do so. Whether or not I will remains to be seen.

On another note, I would like to author a clarification, as opposed to an outright retraction, regarding my Jan. 17, 2003 column about Atlantic City. Specifically, I would like to touch upon the matter pertaining to Benjamin Lin and "Miami" John Cernuto. My intention in that segment was to highlight Benjamin's behavior, which I found to be both ethical and noteworthy. Conversely, my intention was not to cast a negative light on "Miami" John. I tried to do my utmost at conveying his part in the events in the most matter-of-fact, ambivalent, and neutral fashion I could muster. If I inadvertently failed at this endeavor, let this serve as a rectification. As I previously stated, and presently reiterate, I did not personally witness any of the events I wrote about. I drafted that column from various bits and pieces that were casually mentioned to me in passing.

While at Commerce Casino recently, "Miami" John approached me and politely asked if he could have a few minutes of my time. I had a pretty good idea of what it was about, and I figured if I were going to write about someone, the least I could do was honor such a request coming from a named subject in one of my columns. He went on to state that his initial impression of the column did not leave him with a bad taste in his mouth whatsoever, but that other readers had brought the possibility of his being displayed negatively to his attention. I assured him, as I have assured you readers, that my primary focus was not him or his actions, but my admiration for how Benjamin conducted himself thereafter. He said he understood that fully, but thought I had omitted important aspects of what had occurred. He told me that he was not the person who initially drew attention to the transgression. I cannot recall if he stated that the dealer opted to call for a decision of his own volition, or if a floorperson or other official happened to be overseeing the final table when it occurred. At any rate, it was only at the point when the transgression was being considered to be overlooked that "Miami" John reminded said official that a prior similar circumstance (one that I, coincidentally, also wrote about in that very column) had resulted in a penalty that knocked the player out of the tournament. That occurrence was totally accidental and far less flagrant (assuming the current act could even be deemed "flagrant") than what was presently up for consideration. "Miami" John maintained that his motivation was the quest for simple uniformity in rulings. This is understandable, as lack of uniformity in both live and tournament poker rules is certainly a personal peeve of mine and countless others. In addition to understanding his point, I found "Miami" John to be very pleasant, as he kept the whole matter in perspective and was even good-humored about it. In fact, he jokingly said to me, "Grant, I can see you didn't mean to, but you kind of made me look like a [expletive] here." In the same spirit of joviality, I smiled and replied, "Perhaps, but you're the [expletive] who got the money." He chuckled and nodded at that logic. We shook hands, and I found the entire exchange quite amiable.

Lastly, let me state categorically that this clarification of how the events transpired in no way alters or undermines my opinion of Benjamin Lin's display of ethics that day. He truly thought he was doing the right and morally just thing in those circumstances. And I believe that "Miami" John also thought he was doing the right thing by expecting uniform rulings. Let us entertain the notion that they both are correct here. Both certainly are champions in my mind.

Speaking of uniformity in rules, I'd like to make a plea to all cardroom managers: Action by players acting out of turn should be binding! I do not care if they have checked, folded, bet, or raised out of turn. The action must stand. I cannot begin to understand what the possible upside could be to allow those acting out of turn to retract their intent.

The most obvious example against allowing out-of-turn action to stand is what I refer to as the retractable bet. Let us say that on fifth street a player has a flush or straight draw, but is not first to act. Before anyone can do anything, he tosses a bet into the pot, knowing fully well that his action will be termed invalid due to its untimeliness. The mere appearance of an intent to bet on his part could stave off a bet from a player in an earlier position who was likely to lead out with a bet. This could result in a free draw at his hand. Clearly, this rule fosters a "shot-taking" environment, as opposed to preventing one. This is an obvious downside, but I ask again what possible upside can result from allowing a player to take back his action? It is just plain bad all the way around.

Recently, I was almost the victim of one of the most egregious attempts at unethical shot-taking I had ever seen or even heard of. I was in the No. 2 seat of a $100-$200 stud game. The shot-taker was in the No. 1 seat, and the other player in the hand was in the No. 4 seat. I started the hand with 9-10-J, and the jack was my doorcard. The No. 4 seat had a king on the door, and had what I assumed were split kings. Lord only knows what the shot-taker started with, as his playing skills were as questionable as his ethics. On fourth street, I caught a 10 (making a pair); on fifth, I caught an 8 (giving me a straight draw); and on sixth street, I caught another 10 (for trips), the No. 4 seat made open fours (for what I assume were kings up), and the No. 1 seat finally made a flush draw. I opted to check, knowing I stood a great chance of getting a check-raise in if the No. 4 seat bet. He did what I assumed he would, the No. 1 seat called, and I raised. Both players called. I bet out blind on seventh street for value, thinking the No. 4 seat would possibly call.

While the No. 4 seat contemplated what to do, the No. 1 seat elected to call out of turn. I, along with some of the uninvolved players, had focused attention on the No. 4 seat. In turning my head to the left, I did not see that the dealer had taken the No. 1 seat's $200 and returned it to him. After much thought, the No. 4 seat surprised me with a prudent fold, and assuming that the No. 1 seat's money was in the pot, I announced my trip tens. Now, the No. 1 seat attempts the unconscionable, and announces that he wants to raise after he has already called and after I have revealed my hand! You see, my check-raise on sixth street could have been a full house, and that is why he only called on the river when he finally caught his fourth consecutive suited card. Of course, after hearing me state that I had trips, this character tried to raise. The floorperson actually considered letting him pull this stunt, predicated on the dubious logic that because it was a "poker game," my statement that I held trips could have been false. While I understand that lying about your hand on streets three through six could induce a player to do what you want him to do, the point of lying about your holding on the river one second before you turn your cards over would be what, exactly? Does this make any sense? Not to me. Upon explaining that this ruling would actually reward the No. 1 seat for his mistake, and for totally unethical behavior, and would serve to penalize me for announcing my hand just prior to turning my cards over, which is done solely to speed up the game, he eventually concurred and allowed the shot-taker to just call, which, I reiterate, is exactly what he did in the first place. Cardroom managers, fix this, please. You are truly doing a disservice to your players and to the game itself by allowing the status quo to continue.

On a totally different plane (after all, the title of this column is "Random Thoughts … "), fear is an element that is ever present in poker and probably in all forms of gaming, to some extent. While some fears will hamper your performance and progress, others might actually keep you out of trouble. The fear I am presently addressing is that of playing higher stakes. There is nothing wrong with retaining a conservative attitude toward jumping up in limits, particularly if you do not think either your skills or bankroll are adequately suited for the leap. Make no mistake here, it is a leap. Granted, the size of the leap varies with the limits in question, but there is always a palpable difference in play as you upwardly surge. Do not listen to the rhetoric that the $5-$10 game is the toughest game in the house, while the $75-$150 game is full of suckers and all you need is the money to beat 'em. This is utter nonsense. It is only logical that the games get increasingly more difficult to beat as you augment the stakes. Obviously, the higher-limit games will usually have a larger percentage of players who managed to work their way up the ranks from the smaller-limit games, than do the medium- or the smaller-limit games themselves. Is this a direct, exact, and linear progression without exception? Of course not. In some poker rooms, the $10-$20 game might be a tad softer than the $5-$10 game, or the $50-$100 game might prove to be a little tighter and seemingly more difficult to extract money from than the $100-$200 game, but as a general rule, the higher you fly, the thinner the air. Consequently, you have to metaphorically flap your wings even harder. Besides, even if your skills truly warrant playing higher, there is nothing wrong with refraining from upping the stakes because of the lack of size of your bankroll. In fact, I would submit that this is an even greater factor than technical proficiency. So, embrace, or at least heed, your fear in this regard. It may be the little voice in your head giving you a sound piece of advice.

In closing, I hope you enjoyed reading my columns as much as I enjoyed writing them. I may return to my laptop with a few stray thoughts from time to time. I make no promises one way or the other. Most of all, I hope you found the columns educational and even entertaining. Good luck!