Of Brazil Nuts and Must-Move Games

In this column I'll discuss the Brazil Nut Effect. This notion of physical motion predicts that when a vessel containing different-sized objects (like, say, a jar of mixed nuts) is shaken, the smaller objects migrate to the bottom and the larger objects migrate to the top. Why this happens has to do with such multisyllabic obscurities as intruder motion, fluidization, vibration-induced convection, and interstitial air drag, but the simple explanation is that smaller objects can fall through smaller spaces, the better to obey gravity's relentless tug.

And what has it to do with must-move poker games? Metaphorically, everything.

To understand why, start by imagining a universe of, say, $2-$5 blinds no-limit hold'em players, a multitable universe such as you'd find at Bellagio and elsewhere. Next, divide that universe into stronger or weaker players - larger or smaller nuts, so to speak. Now note the dynamic of play in a situation where there's one or more $2-$5 blinds must-move games and a main game. All players start out in the must-move game, and shift to the main game as seats become available. Some, however, don't last that long. The weakest, worst players actually bust out and quit before they're even summoned to the main game. So we already see a natural culling of (in)ability. Every player who makes it to the main game has demonstrated at least the ability to last that long and get that far.

The same dynamic is repeated in the main game: Better players win and prosper; worse players lose and leave. This trend may be reversed by short-term fluctuation (luck), just as the odd Brazil nut may find its way to the bottom of the jar, but in the main game, in the main, strong players tend to remain seated and weak players tend to be replaced, either by other weak players or by strong players who then move the median skill line higher still.

Thus, we have the Brazil Nut Theory of Must-Move Games:

Over time, the main game will emerge as the tougher game to beat.

Must-move games are populated by players just starting their sessions. These players may be nervous, distracted, rattled by traffic, whatever. They haven't settled in yet, and they certainly haven't been in the game long enough to take the measure of their foes. The must-move game, then, always has a higher percentage, and a constantly refreshing universe, of new players who can be attacked on the basis of newness alone. This combination of new money and potentially ill-defended money makes the must-move game generally softer and weaker than the main game.

Viewed through a certain lens, then, a strong player in a must-move game is a big fish in a small pond. It can certainly be a cozy, comfortable pond, but alas it doesn't last. For all the time you're there, you work to control the game. You maneuver yourself to a favorable seat position. You project a tactically useful image. You acquire reads on your foes. You identify and attack soft targets, including the stream of new players entering the game. You gain various edges, but all these edges disappear the instant the floorperson says, "Main game, please."

Now you go to the main game and face a daunting set of challenges:

• You don't know your foes, apart from the glimpse you got when they were back with you in the must-move game.
• You don't have optimum seating. You may in fact have the worst possible seat if a savvy player has just taken the opportunity of an open seat to move out from under a dangerous foe.
• You're facing entrenched money in the hands of relaxed and confident opponents.
• You have no image.

On the plus side, a new game is a fresh start. If your image in the must-move game was unfavorable, you have a chance to reinvent yourself now. Likewise, if your stack has gotten low, you can go ahead and reload when you move. Sometimes, though, when you move from the must-move game to the main game, you find a situation so adverse, a lineup so intimidating, that it really makes no sense to stay in the game. Given the array of disadvantages you face, it may very well be that this is a game you cannot beat. You look longingly back over your shoulder at the sweet, soft, must-move game, and wish you were still back there. Alas, they don't call it "must move" for nothing. You're stuck in the main game.

Or are you?

True, you can't return to the must-move game, but you can always shop for another game at a different level - or even in a different casino. In some cardrooms, if you decline to play in the main game at a certain limit or blinds structure, they'll make you wait an hour or two and then put you back on the list for that game. This will eventually recycle you back into the must-move game - if you're patient enough to wait.

And if you're not that patient … if you decide to tough it out in the main game … I would ask you to ask yourself why. Do you think you can beat the game? If not, why do you stay? (It's axiomatic, the First Law of Killer Poker: "Don't challenge strong players, challenge weak ones. That's what they're there for.") Perhaps you weren't in the must-move game all that long, and haven't yet quenched the thirst for poker that brought you to the cardroom in the first place. You haven't sufficiently scratched that itch. If that's the case and you know it, fine, go ahead and scratch the itch. Just be prepared to pay the price of a problematic seat in an unfavorable game against difficult foes.

Think about this the next time you're must-moved, and ask yourself, in all honesty, whether you're going into a game you can beat. If not, decline the seat. Send some other lamb to the slaughter instead. There's bound to be a better game for you out there somewhere, as long as you're patient enough, clear-eyed enough, and strong-willed enough to go get it. In the meantime, have another Brazil nut. They're tasty, and they rise to the top. ♠

John Vorhaus is the author of the Killer Poker book series. He resides in cyberspace at vorza.com, and in the blogosphere at somnifer.typepad.com.