The Begging Bowl

Once upon a time, I would get to the final table loaded up with chips, only to find myself besieged on all sides by players asking for a slice of the prize money. In those days (regardless of entry numbers), there were only three -- yes, three -- prizes, and 70 percent went to the winner. Wonderful, but because I knew most of my peers and because I was naïve and softhearted, invariably, I gave in to their requests. A strange thing would then happen. All of those players, whom I could previously bully mercilessly, now found the courage to pop back at me, and before I knew it, I was out of the tournament and those still in proceeded to carve up the rest of the prize money. After two or three such episodes, I stopped being "friendly" and started to look after my own interests.

Twenty years on, it's nice to know that some things don't change. A few weeks back, I played at the Broadway festival, and when we got to the last 14 in the first competition, someone asked if the last four could have their entry money back. Give over, guys! Perhaps some of you are quite happy to spend hours trying to get just your entry fee back, and I know that some of these tournaments are very expensive, and to put yourself in a position where you're freerolling is great, but if you're playing under such pressure that you need to recoup the cost over and above every other consideration, you certainly can't be playing your best poker.

In fact, you shouldn't be playing in that tournament. Furthermore, you're telling the chip leader how desperate you are and giving him (or her) license to walk all over you as the bubble approaches.

A little later in the week, an almost identical situation occurred in the £1,000 entry tournament. We were playing two shorthanded tables, I forget exactly how many of us there were, but yet again someone piped up and asked for a dividend for all remaining players. What surprised me was that this player had more money than the rest of us put together, and when I refused, his words were, "I won't forget this," or something to that effect.

He obviously took it personally; well, you can't win them all. In retrospect, he's the type of player who would gamble with any piece of garbage when short-stacked, so why give him the opportunity to double up when you're all right, jack? Don't get me wrong, I'm not averse to making deals at the right time if the deal is fair, but I don't think the right time is on the bubble or at the cheap end of the prize money. You don't get there often enough to become a charitable institution.

Over and above these considerations, surely you know what the prize structure is before you enter the tournament; that's what you sign up to when you pay your entry fee, so why start whining as the prize money gets closer? At what stage do you want to start dividing the cake up? At one off the prize, two off, where do you stop? Eventually, you'll all sit down, divide the money collected, and stand up, with only the promoters winning out because they have your registration fee. You become a much tougher player if you always aim to win and don't cop out just because you get close to or in the final and someone suggests a multiway split. Throughout my playing career, I've watched in total disbelief as players ante themselves away in the fond hope that they can crawl into the negligible end of the prize money.

The bottom line is this: Even if you're desperate to get your entry money back, don't give the opposition more ammo against you by giving them that information. They must and will use it against you. If, on the other hand, you're the player in charge, use that power. Don't give your enemies handouts, make them sweat. Away from the table, you can be as generous as you want, but at the table, there is no charity. So, let's dispense with the begging bowl.

Lucy has been playing poker for 20 years and has won more than $1 million in tournament prize money all over the world. She prefers playing pot-limit Omaha and pot-limit seven-card stud eight-or-better.