Raising When Behind, to Bet or Not to Bet, and an Unusual Take on 'String Theory'

OK, today let's answer some mail. Gary, from Washington, wrote: "I'm fairly new to poker and play mostly limit hold'em and stud, and I'm also intrigued by Omaha but have yet to give it a try. Forgive me for asking a stupid question, but here it is. In a recent column, you referred to a situation in which you should raise even if you think your hand is second best. Is this to find out where you are, a phrase I hear all the time? I mean, I can understand why you'd want to do this in no-limit, if you were confident the raise was big enough to force someone to fold, but that seems so obvious, I'm wondering if you meant something else. It's so hard to bluff at the limits I play. Could you elaborate?"



Sure, but first let me say that your question isn't stupid. You're quite right that a raise in limit poker is far less likely to force someone off his hand than in no-limit, but there are still plenty of reasons to raise when behind in a hand, such as raising for value when you have a big draw, buying a free card, or probing for information. What I actually had in mind when I wrote that sentence was a late-stage raise (as opposed to those I just mentioned, which are generally made early in a hand) against a single opponent whose tendencies you know well. Since stud is one of the games you favor, I'll use it to provide an example.



Suppose that you're heads up on sixth street and your opponent, who's been betting all the way, leads into you once more. Now, further suppose that the following circumstances are in play: (1) You have some kind of made hand that you suspect is second best, but that you're nevertheless committed to showing down, regardless of whether or not you improve. This sometimes occurs when facing an opponent you know to be capable of driving the action with a wide range of hands, some of which you can beat; (2) you have a redraw that is almost certain to be the best hand should it hit; (3) you know that if you just call here, your opponent will lead into you again on seventh street; and (4) your boardcards are such that you also know that if you raise him here, he'll almost certainly check to you on seventh street.



Although that sounds like a lot of conditions, it's a fairly common stud scenario (and has equivalent situations in hold'em). If these circumstances are in play, it matters not that your hand may be second best; you definitely want to bump it up, for the simple reason that a raise in this spot is essentially a freeroll. The sixth-street raise doesn't cost you anything if you miss your hand, because if you do miss, you'll just follow your opponent's seventh-street check with a check of your own, and the tally on the final two streets will thus be the same (two bets on sixth, none on seventh) as if you called one bet on sixth and one on seventh. But by raising on sixth street instead of just calling, you give yourself the chance to extract a third bet if you do hit your draw on the end.



I hope that helps, Gary, and feel free to write again with any questions you might have.



On another subject, Tom, from San Diego, wrote: "Please tell me how I should handle this situation. Lately it seems like I've been in a number of hands in which I've been on draws, so I've just checked on the flop and the turn. Then, the dealer puts out the river card that makes my hand, but before I can bet, my opponent just turns over his cards. No warning or anything – he just turns over his cards without giving me a chance to act. And I wanted to bet! Most of the time, I just let it slide because when I have gone ahead and bet, I get all this attitude, like I'm pulling some kind of cheap shot; like it's my fault he exposed his damn cards! I don't want people to think I'm a jerk, but sometimes I feel like I'm being taken advantage of. What should I do?"


Unfortunately, Tom, people can sometimes be very silly regarding heads-up pots, and assume that a check on the flop followed by another on the turn somehow means that a check is "automatic" on the river. Although it doesn't make a lick of sense, it can be an honest mistake; that is to say, one made without any scheming intent. On the other hand, there are times when people who make this move are most definitely shooting an angle, trying to save a bet by exploiting their opponent's desire to avoid social disapproval, thus getting to show down a hand they think has a shot of winning without having to pay for the privilege. (Generally speaking, the more indignation the premature exposer displays, the more likely that an angle was being shot.)



Either way, you shouldn't be the least bit embarrassed about going ahead with your bet, and if anyone objects, simply point out that you have a perfect right to act in turn, and that neither you nor anyone else need forfeit that right because of someone else exposing his cards out of turn. If the mistake was unintentional, you'll simply be educating a player about something he needs to know (that action on one street has nothing to do with action on another), and if an angle was being shot, you're educating the shooter about something he needs to know, as well – namely, that he's wasting his time by shooting it against you. And don't worry about social fallout – because as long as you remain composed, and are polite with your explanation, the only one likely to get his panties in a bunch will be the angle shooter.



Finally, Arthur, from Connecticut, winds up an e-mail detailing some strange poker happenings with the unexpected question: "What's the silliest thing you've ever seen when playing poker?"


Well, I don't know about the silliest thing I've ever seen, Arthur – it would take me a month just to whittle it down to the top nominees – but I can tell you the nuttiest thing I've seen lately. In a hold'em game the other night, I observed the following scene: A maniac led out on the turn when a scare card hit the board. The next player then cut out enough chips for a call, hesitated just a moment, and then continued cutting out the chips to raise, apparently hoping to isolate the maniac. But when his plan backfired, and the player behind him instantly announced, "Reraise," he immediately started howling that he hadn't raised at all. A big argument ensued, during which he changed his story more times than a politician in an election campaign. First he claimed that he thought the player in front of him had raised (an interesting idea, considering that the player in front of him was first to act), and when that didn't fly, he switched to: "I thought it was a kill pot." After grasping at a few more lame straws, and being informed that his raise would have to stand, he finally hit upon a truly novel argument. As a last resort, he tried to call a string raise – on himself!



Barry Mulholland can be reached at [email protected].