Let's say that you have nothing on the river but an 8-high busted flush draw. You're down to your last $25 chip, there's a $400 pot at stake, and you're first to act with one opponent remaining. If you bet that final chip, most of the time you'll never see it again. Still, that doesn't mean betting is a bad play. You would need your bluff to work only one time in 16 for it to show a long-term profit. If the previous action suggests that there's any reasonable chance your opponent will fold (that is, somewhere around 10 percent of the time), you'd be making a big expected value (EV) mistake by checking and giving up.
Unfortunately, some players take this concept too far. They ignore the part about needing a "reasonable chance" of winning. All they know is that they cannot win a showdown, and bluffing gives them their only chance of winning. But when that chance is nearly nonexistent, they have to accept the reality that sometimes they need to give up. For example, if someone has a busted straight draw against two opponents who have been betting and raising each other throughout the hand, what will it accomplish if he bets the river? Maybe there is a 1-in-100 chance that his opponents will both inexplicably fold, but for the most part it would be a pure waste of money.
On some level, it bothers me to watch players attempt bluffs that have no chance of succeeding. Even when they are throwing their money away, they are altering the nature of the game, such that the other players (including myself) have to become more card-dependent. In general, I would rather be situation-dependent, and not have to rely so heavily on getting good cards. Still, I don't mind having these players in my game, because they represent clear profit potential.
But even though I tolerate them, they remain the source of one of my biggest poker pet peeves. Namely, it always bothers me when one of them bluffs at a multiway pot when he has absolutely no chance of succeeding, and as a result, he effectively hands the pot from one opponent to another.
Example No. 1
On the river, Armando bluffs with no pair, Bert calls with pocket eights, and Carlos decides he can't overcall with pocket nines, so he folds. If Armando had checked rather than attempted his bluff, the pot would have gone to Carlos, since the only reason he folded was because he was being forced to overcall. Thus, Armando's bet caused the pot to be redistributed from Carlos to Bert, who basically got lucky and reaped the rewards of Armando's low-percentage bluff attempt.
Example No. 2
Anthony goes all in preflop from under the gun and gets called by Barry and Chuck. They check the flop and the turn, so there is no side pot at stake. On the river, Barry bets and Chuck folds his unimproved pocket fives, justifiably assuming that Barry wouldn't be bluffing, since he would have nothing to gain. Instead, Barry takes his bet back and turns up 9 high. All-in Anthony turns up king high and takes the whole pot, while Chuck gets screwed out of the pot by Barry's senseless bet.
I consider this example even worse than the first one, because Barry's idiocy didn't even cost him anything! He was able to take his last bet back! The only person who paid the price was Chuck, and the only way he could have won was if he somehow could have deduced that his fives were good against someone senselessly bluffing into a dry side pot. Good luck.
So, why am I bothered?
I guess these examples bother me for two reasons. The first is that they demonstrate how collusion would take place, except the difference here is that I don't think the players were knowingly colluding. In the second example, Barry helped Anthony to win, but I don't think that was his intention. He was just making a dumb play for no good reason. So, while I'm not crying foul on Barry, aka "The Redistributor," I think it's unjust that his bad play hurt Chuck and not himself.
And the second reason these plays bother me? I think I play the parts of Carlos and Chuck way too often. In fact, the same day that I sat down to write this column, a pot got redistributed from me in a very Carlos-like fashion.
I raised preflop from middle position with pocket jacks, and only the blinds called. The small blind check-raised me on an 8-high flop, then check-raised me again when the turn paired sixes. The big blind, who was easily the loosest player in the game, cold-called the check-raises both times. When the action came back to me on the turn, and I had to decide what the small blind might have, I just couldn't see how he would ever attempt a bluff in that situation. Not only was the big blind the loosest player in the game, but I had also shown substantial strength. For those reasons, I figured I had to give him credit for a better hand than mine, so I laid down my jacks. Silly me.
The river was a king. The small blind fired, the big blind called instantly, and the small blind tapped the table and said, "You got me." The big blind produced a pair of sevens, the small blind mucked, and the big blind took it down. At that point, even though I didn't say it aloud, my thinking toward the small blind was, "Come on! You had to know one of us was going to call you! Right?"
Obviously, not right. I gave the small blind too much credit. To me, it was obvious that the big blind would call, and if he didn't, I certainly would. But the situation was clearer to me than it was to the small blind, and I did not take that into account. As a result, I cost myself a very decent pot, while the small blind got to play the role of Redistributor.
What can be done to counter the Redistributor?
Unfortunately, not much. I think if the same situation played out a hundred times over, I'd be correct in laying down my jacks most of those times. Similarly, when I have any marginal hand and am facing a bet and a call, I'm usually correct to lay it down rather than overcall. The downside is that when I do have the best hand, the Redistributor succeeds at giving the pot to the second-best hand at my expense.
Oh, well. I really have to just suck it up and accept it. The only thing I could do differently would be to call much more often. That would win me an extra pot occasionally, but would cost me far too many bets over the long run to ever be profitable. I guess being bluffed off an occasional pot isn't so bad. After all, the alternative of becoming a calling station would unquestionably be much worse.
Matt Lessinger is the author of The Book of Bluffs: How to Bluff and Win at Poker, available everywhere. You can find other articles of his at www.CardPlayer.com.
