D Day

There are those who think the World Series of Poker is slowly approaching acceptable levels of competence on the part of the dealers and floormen. I am not one of them. There was the usual variety of mistakes and bad decisions in the earlier tournaments this year, but what happened in the main event is beyond belief.

There were four scheduled starting days — 1A, 1B, 1C, and 1D. In general, players prefer to play on the last day, 1D, or the next-to-last day, 1C. Normal procedure is to close registration for the most popular day until the other days catch up, so that the number of entrants is spread at least somewhat evenly over the four days. This wasn’t done. Approximately 1,100 entered on 1A, 900 on 1B, and 1,700 on 1C. All of that was fine, especially since WSOP literature stated that up to 3,000 could be accommodated per day. More than 3,000 attempted to register for 1D. Just over 2,800 were allowed to enter, and the rest were shut out. Several solutions might have been implemented, although no solution was perfect. Harrah’s couldn’t be talked into any of them, and more than 200 disgruntled players were turned away.

Day 1 had been scheduled to have five levels of play. Days 1A and 1B played four levels. (Conspiracy theorists claim that this was to trap more players at the Rio while they awaited day 2A.) The influx of players for days 1C and 1D necessitated playing the scheduled five levels in order to have any chance of eliminating enough players to fit all of the survivors into day 2B. To even this out, day 2A players (the survivors of days 1A and 1B) now had to play one more level than the players on day 2B (the survivors of days 1C and 1D). Rather than confuse you any more with the convoluted structure, I will discuss some other basic flaws.

The standard procedure for dealers announcing a raise in no-limit hold’em is to state, “Raise.” It’s not any of the following: “Raise to 850,” “Raise it up,” or “The price of poker is going up.” I heard all three. The most frequent mistake was to announce the amount of the raise. When I asked dealers if they were supposed to announce the amount, the replies included: “Yes,” “No,” or “Whatever we want.” I then asked a floorman, who responded, “The dealer doesn’t have to say anything; poker is a visual game!” If nothing else, his weird reply provided some amusement for our table. And many dealers don’t seem to have been informed about releasing the deck, and others release it after they cut, instead of before. I guess we’ve all been spoiled by playing online, where none of this ever comes up. Computers are amazingly consistent.

It is important for players to know the order in which tables will be broken. There are at least two valid reasons for this. The first is strategic. You don’t want to make a weird play, like a wild bluff, to create a maniac image, and then find that you wasted those chips when your table is broken and you’re facing a bunch of strangers who missed your image-enhancing play. The second is to ensure the integrity of the tournament. Clearly, players at a good table don’t want to be moved, while those at a bad table do. When the break order is not posted and followed, floormen can show favoritism to certain big-tipping players, by arranging a break order that suits them. The WSOP lists the break order on the bottom line of the clock. I was seated in the red section. The clock said, “Red, green, low to high.” I assumed this meant that our section and the green section would be broken from the lowest table up to the highest. It became apparent that they were doing something else. I questioned the floorman, who replied, “They told me to clear up some tables for cash games, some low-limit and some high-limit.” It appeared to me that they were breaking tables in columns, but neither case was what I thought the clock specified. I tried to get more information, and was informed by that floorman that he was just following orders from another floorman, and that I could make protests to him.

I was already fairly disgusted with the proceedings, and asked a question — a psychological vocabulary question. I wanted to know the IQ ranking of a moron, an idiot, and an imbecile. (For those who care, the answer is that a moron has an IQ of 50 to 75, an imbecile of 25 to 49, and an idiot’s is lower than 25. These terms for mental retardation are no longer considered politically correct. For poker players and staff, they are quite acceptable.) I was given a penalty for this query. Abusing a player or floorperson brings a one-round penalty. You can’t play a hand while your antes and blinds are put into the pot. I clearly deserved the penalty, or at least I would have deserved it if someone had been able to answer my question, so that I, in a calm and reasoned fashion, could have stated that the floormen were morons. It was only later, when I heard about the following situations, that I decided that calling them morons might have been giving them too much credit.

One player went all in and was called by two other players, who both had more chips in their stacks. One of them then said to the other that they didn’t have to bet anymore. Basically, he was attempting to talk the other player into colluding against the all-in player. The other player rejected the suggestion, but this blatant offer of collusion wasn’t penalized.

I arrived at a table after the dinner break, and found myself seated to the left of a very sweet lady who was obviously totally inexperienced as a player. On several occasions, she called a preflop raise, and then when it was checked to her, she folded. It is hard to believe that there are players in the WSOP who don’t know that they can take a free card. I was informed that early in the day, she had played a pot against an aggressive opponent. The board was something like J-10-10-3-2, and her opponent fired out a large bet with jacks full of tens. She, however, had pocket tens for quads. Evidently, she didn’t realize that quad tens was the nuts, and just called on the river. She was given a one-round penalty for “soft play.” Moron is too kind a description for the floormen who made those two rulings.

The WSOP charges $600 juice for a $10,000 event. Bellagio charges $300. The WSOP gives you a $10 discount coupon. Bellagio allows you and a guest to go to the buffet each day that you survive. If that weren’t enough, Bellagio is a nicer venue with superior dealers. The WSOP playing day is reminiscent of that of factory workers early in the Industrial Revolution, 12 to 14 hours. Bellagio has a daily playing schedule that is more like a normal job, nine hours. I am one of those who’s working to make the WSOP better, but I’m starting to think it’s a lot cause.

Steve “Zee” Zolotow, aka The Bald Eagle, is a successful games player. He currently devotes most of his time to poker. He can be found at many major tournaments and playing on Full Tilt, as one of its pros. When escaping from poker, he hangs out in his bars on Avenue A — Nice Guy Eddie’s at Houston and Doc Holliday’s at 9th Street — in New York City.