Aunt Sophie Sees the Future: Part I

“_Nu_, tsatskeleh,” said my Aunt Sophie, “how is it that sometimes I just know when I’m going to win the next hand?”

The cocktail waitress approached our little table deep within the gloom of a secluded lounge of the Anaheim Club. I nodded at my empty glass that had contained Glenfiddich, neat. Aunt Sophie indicated another Sloe Gin Fizz.

“Now that’s an interesting question,” I replied. “Tell me, when that happens, are you right?”

“Funny you should ask,” she responded. “Sometimes I have this feeling of wishing I would win the next hand.”

“Is that,” I interrupted, “usually in a critical situation? A must-win, desperate situation?”

“Dot’s right, Dollink,” she answered. “How did you know?”

The waitress brought our drinks. I set a few bills on her tray, and when I did not attempt to retrieve the change, she withdrew silently. “Because,” I laughed, taking a sip of the single malt, “I’m a poker player. I’ve been playing the game a great many years. And that’s a universal feeling among poker players. Some call it ‘praying to the poker god.’ Hold’em players sometimes specify the hold’em god. And pan players, of course, have their pan god. Whatever they call it, though, card players often find themselves in the position of desperately wishing to win the next hand. It’s usually in a critical situation. ‘This is the pot that will get me even; please, Lord, let me win it, and I’ll get up and leave.’ Or, and this happens most often in a no-limit poker game, ‘How could I have made this ridiculous bluff? Please let me get away with it just this one time, and I won’t ever do something so stupid again.’”

“That doesn’t seem to work very often,” she offered, doubtfully.

“Of course not,” I agreed. “And do you know why not? Because the player always breaks the promise that goes with the plea. He wins the pot, gets even, and then doesn’t leave. Now he says to himself, ‘Hey, maybe I’m on a rush.’ Or, ‘How can I leave a great game like this after winning a pot like that? I better stick around and win something. After all, I didn’t come in here to get even, did I? I was even before I sat down.’ Or, he gets away with the bluff that he never should have attempted against the biggest calling station in the house. He’s so relieved that he has to give himself a little pat on the back, a bit of ego-stroking. He shows down the hand. ‘Look at what a good player I am. I just succeeded in bluffing the guy that no one else around here can get to lay down a hand.’ And then what happens? A few hands later, he tries another spectacular bluff in a situation in which it really shouldn’t work. It might work often, but because he just showed down a bluff, all of the other players are now thinking, ‘Gee, every time that guy makes a large bet in this situation, he’s bluffing. I’d better call him.’ And, sure enough, the next time that he makes that big bet, the tight player who doesn’t normally call with less than the nuts catches him bluffing.”

“Yah,” Aunt Sophie interjected. “I know just what you’re talking. I see it all the time.”

“Of course you do,” I went on. “It’s universal. Poker players don’t really mean it when they pray to the poker god. They have their fingers crossed behind their backs. They know they’re going to be in a situation where they finally get out of the trap, and they break their internal vows to leave if that ever happens. They also know they’re going to get stuck again, so that later they can say to themselves, ‘Why didn’t I leave when I got even after that one crucial pot, like I said I was? I got even, but I stuck around and blew it all back, and ended up losing more than I was stuck at any point prior to that play.’ They’re lying to the poker god, and he knows it, so he rarely grants that wish. Oh, once in a while he relents and lets the player win the pot, just to see if maybe he wasn’t unfairly misjudging all card players. He wants to see if the player will keep his promise. And the poker god becomes a bit sadder and a bit wiser when he realizes that card players are lying when they make that plea accompanied by a promise.”

To be continued.

Michael Wiesenberg has been a columnist for Card Player since 1988. He has written or edited many books about poker, and has also written extensively about computers. His crossword puzzles are syndicated in newspapers and appear online. Send accolades, abuse, and alliterations to [email protected].