My LIPS Are Sealed

Those who know me know that I have a whimsical bent.

It gets me into trouble sometimes.

For instance, when Kelley O'Hara of The Bicycle Casino and Lupe Soto of the LIPS (Ladies International Poker Series) Tour invited me to shine a light on the subject of men playing in women-only poker tournaments, I immediately thought, well, what better way to cover that story than from the inside? With their blessing, I determined to enter the $300 buy-in LIPS Tour event at the Bike's Legends of Poker tournament, and investigate the issue from the ladies' point of view. Call me a dedicated journalist if you want - or call me flat insane - it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Although, as the photo in this column demonstrates, it manifestly - aesthetically, at least - was not.

I'm going to elide all the stages of my nervous preparation and get straight to the story; however, I can tell you that applying lipstick is not my strong suit and - as several ladies were at pains to point out - my blue hair ribbons and orange jacket just didn't go. As I crossed the threshold into the tournament area, I didn't know what kind of reaction to expect, though resentment and hurled epithets (or, indeed, seat cushions) seemed like reasonable possibilities. Mostly I was greeted with laughter, which suited me fine. As I said, I have a whimsical bent.

But I did want to know how the players felt about these events, and about the growing tendency of men to crash, as it were, their party. Legally, of course, men can do this. In these politically correct times, to bar someone on the basis of gender is clearly discriminatory. One need only imagine the shoe on the other foot to see that, for, as Benay Karp of Woodland Hills told me in explaining why she tolerates male entrants, "I'd be really upset if there was a tournament for men only." Plus, it would be illegal.

By law, then, men can play in women's tournaments. Some have, including, famously, the Tilt Boys, and baseball's Jose Canseco. But the law isn't really the issue here. The question I would ask - the question I did ask - is, "What's the real function of women's tournaments, and how does that function impact the game?" One function is clearly to introduce women to cardroom poker. Said Marla Schwartz of Westlake Village, "I have a lot of friends who are just learning the game, and they feel intimidated [in open events]. It's just a friendlier game with women."

And let me tell you something: That's a fact, Jack. Subtract the testosterone from a tournament hall, and you subtract virtually all of the bad language, thrown cards, dealer abuse, arguments, rants, rage, and sheer stupid stupidity. What you get instead is a genial, convivial atmosphere in which everyone seems to be playing with each other, not against. Now, you could argue that poker is a game that's meant to be played against and not with, but anyone who's ever enjoyed a regular home game will know that that's not always true. And whether you're a Tilt Boy or a regular attendee at BARGE (the Big August Rec.Gambling Excursion), or a woman who makes it a point to play in women's events, part of the great thing about poker is getting together with your friends for fun.

If you ask me, we shouldn't let a little thing like political correctness get in the way of that. If nothing else, self-interest says so, for women's events do definitely bring new players to poker (one wag described such tournaments as a "gateway drug"), and without new players, this little game we love must die.

Meanwhile, back on the tournament floor, I was starting to feel a little more comfortable, a little like one of the girls. I quickly discovered, however, that behind all the camaraderie and jokes ("I'm on a heater." "No, that's just menopause."), there was some fierce, and fiercely competitive, poker being played. For the record, these players, as a group, were no better nor worse than any group of men I might play with, but they were different; more technical; more precise; less prone to grandstand overbetting or grandstand plays of any type. Granted, one tournament is not a valid statistical sample, but my subjective impression was that these women came to play … in every sense of the word. They were there to have fun, and, oh by the way, to savage their foes when they could. As the recipient of such savaging, I soon came to realize that pocket aces don't really care how pretty your wig is.

I can think of only one mistake that I saw more than once: some unstrategic underbetting post-flop. Everything else was solid as steel. Likewise, I can think of only one play I made that I might not have made against a man. I had gotten stuck on a flush draw and realized that the only way to win the pot was to lead out small on the river and hope it looked like a suspiciously milky value-bet rather than a busted draw. I decided that my foe was smart enough to lay down her hand there - and she was. Against many men, I would expect their gonads to "call to keep me honest."

But you know what? That sounds a little condescending, a little like, "She was just smart enough to be fooled." Attitudes like that can lead you quickly down a slippery slope into the whole disingenuous notion that women should have their own tournaments because they're somehow "not as good" as men. I can't sign on to that at all, though some do; one woman asked me, "How proud would you be to win a women's tournament?" as if to suggest that a women's field is somehow inherently weaker than a mixed or men's event.

Want to know how proud I'd feel? Damn proud. I made the final table of the event, and got busted out by Barbara Enright, who can play rings around me, as we both know. It would have been awkward for everyone if I had won, no doubt, and somewhat counter to my purpose in writing this column, for it would allow the casual (male) observer to say, "Well, if that clown Vorhaus can win, the pickings must be easy, indeed." And then the rush would be on. Still, as I say, I'd have been damn proud to take it down: That was a tough field, and I had to play my tail off to make it as far as I did. (Kudos to the Bike, by the way, for a blinds structure that allowed for patient, technical play even deep into the final table.)

That said, I am today announcing my retirement from the LIPS Tour. It's not without regret, for I enjoy the company of women, and playing poker against (excuse me, with) them is a certain kind of bliss. But it's not my party, and I won't crash it again. That's because what I see - being gender-blind for a moment - is just a group of people having their own fun in their own way. Should people be allowed to do that? I think so. If you think so, too, you need to make room for women's tournaments - make room and get out of the way - because at the end of the day, the issue isn't fairness. It's freedom.

John Vorhaus is the author of the Killer Poker book series and the new poker novel Under the Gun, in bookstores now. He resides in cyberspace at vorza.com, and blogs the world from somnifer.typepad.com. John Vorhaus' photo: Gerard Brewer.