Oh, No, Not a Bad-Beat Story

Unless you just landed on Earth from the planet Zog, the mere mention of those two horrible words "bad beat" will turn even the most unfit and overweight poker player into a sprinter of Olympic standard (unless, of course, you happen to be a fellow sickie who's always searching for a sympathetic ear to hear your tales of woe). As the song says, "Everybody hurts sometime." We all get our share of bad luck; unfortunately, it is part of the game we play. So, please, let's not waste any more time whining about river cards; if you can't stand the heat, stay out of the kitchen. However …



The first documented bad beat that I have been able to find occurs in the Bible, of all places. Now, many people have heard the story of Jonah spending three days in the belly of a whale, but the interesting part (strictly from a gambling perspective) is how he got there in the first place. The book of Jonah relates how he paid his money for a sea journey, and once on board, he promptly went to sleep. A mighty storm broke out and the sailors, being as superstitious as many gamblers are, decided that someone on board was unlucky for the ship. So, they said, "Every one to his fellows, come, and let us cast lots, that we may know for whose cause this evil is upon us." They cast lots, and the lot fell upon Jonah. Exit Jonah. If you have seen the movie Master and Commander, there was a somewhat similar scene in which one of the young officers, believing himself to be unlucky for the ship, jumped overboard in the middle of the night.



So much for the morbid side of bad luck. Can you believe that I know someone who actually looks forward to hearing bad-beat stories? The fact that this person happens to be all of 30 months old may have something to do with this unusual state of affairs, but what is really amazing is that her name is Vegas, honest. Her papa happens to be my very good friend Pascal Perrault, and he has done something for which you could probably have gotten odds of 5,000-1 and turned the bad-beat story into an art form. He has invented a character called Mr. Bad Beat, who, of course, is the baddie in all of these stories. Naturally, Pascal and all of his buddies are out to get the better of Mr. BB, and this innocent little one laps it all up. As soon as she sees her father (in the early afternoon, of course, he keeps strict poker hours), she jumps up on his knee and demands to be told all about Mr. BB. Naturally, he is happy to oblige, so she hears all about his adventures against the baddie. All I can say is, Heaven help any unfortunate poker player dating her in 20 years time who tries to look for sympathy for his bad luck. She'll tell him, "So, what's new, Pierre, Jacques, or Michel?"



One of the funniest bad-beat stories you are ever likely to read is The Snatching of Bookie Bob, by Damon Runyon. Some wise guys decided to put the snatch on Bob, figuring that he could easily afford to pay the 25G ransom money. They took him off to a hotel room, explained the situation to him, and sat back to wait for the money to arrive. Time dragged on to the next day, but the money still had not arrived and the boys started to get severe withdrawal symptoms, owing to the fact that they were not at their usual abode, the racetrack. Bob, being a true professional and a gentleman, offered to take all their action. Needless to say, they proceeded to do their brains on the ponies over the next few days. And, of course, they ended up paying him back all of the ransom money plus more (they couldn't refuse to pay or they'd never be able to get another bet on).



So, please, if we have to hear bad-beat stories, let's have funnies; either that, or I'm going to do as Scoff did one World Series. He had a baseball cap made with "$5 to hear your bad beat" inscribed on it in big, bold lettering. And guess what? While a few of us were waiting at his podium, trying to get our names on the lists for cash games, some cowboy muscled to the front and started bending Scoff's ear about what some plonker did to him in a hand. Scoff put the cap on and pointed to the lettering. The cowboy promptly put his hand in his pocket, withdrew a $5 note, and handed it over without once interrupting his tale of woe! If you want real bad-beat stories, visit any intensive care ward or hospice, and perhaps that will put that miraculous river card into its proper perspective.



Lucy can be reached at [email protected].