The
World Series of Poker is more than just no-limit hold'em. For a long time, one of the other games was ace-to-five lowball, "Southern California"-style. In this form of draw, players received five cards, followed by the first round of betting at the lower level. Then, active players drew cards, if needed, to better their hands. A second round of betting followed at twice the lower level, and then came the showdown. This was the dominant game in California cardrooms until the early '90s, when hold'em, Omaha, and seven-card stud shoved the old games out of the way. Now you can hardly find lowball in any cardrooms, and it is no longer part of the
WSOP.
I played in the ace-to-five event three times, and came in 14th (out of 16 paying places) in 2001. It was the toughest 11 hours of poker I'd ever played.
The most memorable hand of the event for me came against Phil Hellmuth.
I had become one of the short stacks. At the $4,000-$8,000 betting level, I had 17 $500 chips left. I had to put eight of them in for my big blind. Someone opened for a raise, and I put in eight more chips on a one-card draw; my opponent stood pat. I paired, and had to give up. My remaining chip would have been called. The next hand was my small blind, for which I would have had to put in four chips - if I had that many. Since I didn't, I put in my one remaining chip. Hellmuth opened for a raise, $8,000. No one called till it go to me. I was already all in for my one chip, one-sixteenth of the bet. The big blind did not call. The dealer now gave $11,000 back to Hellmuth, his bet plus $3,000 from the big blind. He already had a profit of $3,000 on the hand. Normally, the blinds would total $6,000; since I had only $500, they totaled $4,500, and I had action on $1,500.
I now made my brilliant play, a desperation move that enabled me to finish one spot ahead of Hellmuth. It wasn't worth any more money, just a bit of satisfaction at having outlasted a brilliant tournament player, someone well-deserving of the title of world-class champion. Hellmuth is to be congratulated for having made the money in a game that is not his specialty. I admire his achievements in every major form of poker, and going as far as he did in the
WSOP lowball event is further attestation to his tournament skills.
I looked despondently at my cards. What a way to finish the tournament, I thought: K-Q-J-9-7. I did not want to draw three cards to a 9-7; if I did that, Hellmuth could stand pat on a queen and still have the best of it. Drawing four cards to a 7 would be even more suicidal, and two to a jack was just as ridiculous. My only choice was to stand pat, hope he was drawing, and then hope he paired. It did not have much of a chance, but it was better, I thought, than the multiple-card draw that was my only other choice. These choices all flashed through my mind, but as soon as the dealer asked how many cards I wished, I immediately indicated that I was pat. If Hellmuth had a pat hand, it was all over; I was resigned to getting up in that likelihood, figuring I'd given it my best shot with that last chip. Had he clearly had a pat hand, he likely at that juncture would have just shown it down, but now he seemed to have a dilemma. He started talking out loud, meanwhile spreading his cards so the players next to him could see what he was thinking about, but I couldn't. "I could have you beat right now," he said. I realized what his dilemma was. He had either a pat jack or pat 10 and didn't want to sacrifice those three chips without giving himself a chance.
I didn't know whether saying anything would help or hinder me at this point, but figured silence might be too suspicious. After all, it's a classic move to say nothing when you're bluffing, so as not to precipitate unwanted action from your opponent, but I was sure Hellmuth knew this, so I said something: "I couldn't very well indicate the strength of my hand by raising; I'm all in." Hellmuth kept thinking, and finally threw a 10 away faceup. I then said, "Your 10 was good." It didn't matter at that point to reveal the strength - or rather, lack of it - of my hand. Hellmuth disgustedly announced that he had paired threes. I rather triumphantly spread my horrible cards, and the gallery went wild. That is, the other players made admiring remarks, and the three or four RGPers who were cheering me on from the rail applauded. I survived my all in with three chips. Hellmuth had broken 10-8-5-3-joker to draw to the 8. Poker mathematician and subsequent
WSOP bracelet winner Bill Chen, part of my rooting section, immediately informed Hellmuth that even after breaking, he still was a 4-to-1 favorite. By breaking his hand, he had gone from 100 percent equity on the pot to 80 percent, still a huge favorite. Equally, though, my standing pat having convinced Hellmuth to break his hand had changed my expectation from zero to 20 percent. Hellmuth said that if he hadn't had the joker, he'd never have drawn. Everyone else at the table made sure to point out to him that they never would have broken a 10 in that spot … well, everyone but me. I didn't say so, but I would not have broken a 10 against a desperation player with one chip remaining, forced in the small blind to play whatever cards fate happened to give him. There were far more hands worse than better than a 10-8 on which a player in such a position would stand pat. (By the way, I confirmed later with Poker Probe that of the multiple-card draws I was contemplating, drawing either three or four cards would have given me less than half the chance I had against the one-card draw.)
I would love to say that I was able to run those three chips into a victory, but I got no miracle hands. Hellmuth busted out before I was forced to enter a pot, so I did manage to outlast him. Places 13 through 16 all paid $1,850, so it was a hollow victory. But, that was $1,850 more than I had after buying in to the tournament, so I was pleased.
I received nothing promising until the big blind was one away, when I was dealt 6-2-joker-X-X. I figured a decent two-card draw was better than the five random cards I would be forced to play on the next hand. I threw in my last three chips. Two other players came into the pot, and my two-card draw didn't make anything. I was out.
Michael Wiesenberg's The Ultimate Casino Guide, published by Sourcebooks, is available at fine bookstores and at Amazon.com and other online book purveyors. Send encomiums, exprobrations, and enjoinments to [email protected].
