The Jackpot

Curly had a dilemma. Should he accept a little outside help to beat the most obnoxious player who came into The Club, Curly's favorite cardroom of late?

You know what's wrong with some guys? They'd rather bust their butts getting something for nothing than expend considerably less effort making an honest living.

There was a card mechanic who practiced four hours a day in front of a mirror – and he was good. The guy gave you a deck to examine. He then shuffled it thoroughly and dealt out eight hands. You would swear on a stack of Super/Systems that all the cards came off the top of that deck. He invited you to look at the hands, telling you that one of the players will make a lot of money off two of the others. Sure enough, one of the hands was aces full of kings, another was four nines, while a third was a pat royal flush.

With talent like that, did the guy win at poker? Nope. He couldn't play a lick. He couldn't beat a bunch of junior high school kids playing on the kitchen table for pennies. Even with all his cheating, he lost. You wonder what is the purpose of that empty excrescence that sits atop the guy's neck. It can't be to keep his hair from falling through into his mouth, because the guy is bald. There can't be any kind of thinking mechanism, because then, the guy would surely realize that if he spent four hours a day studying how to play poker, he wouldn't have to cheat. Everyone who played with him knew what was happening, but they never complained to the management about his shenanigans. They rarely played on his deal, and beat him the other seven hands.

The fellow at least was likable. You could feel somewhat sorry for him – all that skill going to waste.

Gino, on the other hand, engendered no feelings of solicitude in anyone's bosom. As a kid, he had cheated his grandmother while playing her favorite games, honeymoon bridge and gin rummy – marked cards in the former, double-drawing in the latter. The cheating was pointless, because she would have let him win. He had gone on to taking lunch money from his school fellows at noontime card games. He graduated to angle-shooting and deck-moving in the service, and full-time hustling after a dishonorable discharge unleashed him on an unsuspecting world.

And now here sat this individual taking up space in the no-limit lowball game favored by Curly that might otherwise have been occupied by a pleasant human being. Although Gino was a reasonably competent card player, he was getting second-bested and drawn out on considerably. His original $100 buy-in had shrunk to $9. The few chips looked pitifully exposed compared to the hundreds stacked in front of most of the other players. That Gino was buying no more chips indicated to Curly that the thief had fallen on hard times. Everyone at the table hoped he would lose the chips and leave. Curly hoped Gino would not get any cards for seven more deals, that being how long $9 would enable him to put up the blinds before he ran out of ammunition.

Curly considered no-limit lowball his "road game." This was $12 minimum bet, with three traveling blinds of $3, $3, and $6. There was a jackpot in this house, found sometimes in small clubs, that was given to the player who got beat holding a 6-4. Many clubs split such a jackpot between the holder of the 6-4 and the holder of the wheel that beat the hand, but in this club it was winner-take-all. The jackpot was built by $1, usually called the jackpot drop, being removed from each pot. This being a small club, the players dealt for themselves and also made sure the drop was taken from every pot. Often the jackpot stood between $500 and $1,000 when it got knocked off, but now it had built up to a phenomenal $11,435.

It was Gino's deal next. Curly watched him fiddling with the discards before the current hand was over. As the hand ended, he set the deck atop 10 cards he had arranged with only Curly being aware of what he was doing. Gino put in his $3 blind, shuffled, passed the deck for a cut, hopped the cut, and began to deal.

And what would he be doing? There was not much point in taking a chance getting caught cheating and dealing himself a winner for the action he could get on a measly $6. He wouldn't be giving a hand to an accomplice, because nobody would have anything to do with the miserable weasel. No, he had to be planning on winning that jackpot.

Curly picked up his cards. Well, how about that! Gino had dealt him a wheel. Was it deliberate? Had he realized that Curly had made him, and this was an attempt at placation? Or, was it just a coincidence, since he had to put the hand that would beat him somewhere?

Curly opened the pot for the usual $12.

Wild Willie, the player with the most chips after Curly, raised $40. Everyone else except Gino folded.

Gino put the last of his chips in. "I'm all in for $6."

The middle and big blinds folded.

Jonesy kept everything straight, as usual. "He's in for $6 three ways, plus $9 in blinds. Main pot's $27; everything else goes on the side."

Curly shoved in two stacks of $5 chips. "Let's build a pot. Raise."

Willie matched the $200.

Gino picked up the deck again. "Cards?"

Curly smiled. "None."

Willie tapped his cards on the table. "None here."

Gino set down the deck. "I'm pat, too."

Now, how could Curly get the maximum from Willie? Willie had not raised one more time before the draw to make it appear as if he was trying to prevent Curly from breaking a two-way hand, thus implying that he had a rough hand himself, but hoping to make Curly think he actually had the opposite of what he was implying – namely, a great hand. It was a double reverse, or what Curly termed "the second level of sophistication." Curly thought that he really had the rough hand, however, so it was best to underbet now. "I'll make it $40." That looked like a protection bet – not the minimum, $12, which was practically a give-up bet, but not a large amount, either.

Wild Willie fell into the trap. "I'll raise." He pushed in $200, a $160 raise.

Curly counted the rest of his chips, to save Jonesy the trouble. "The rest of 'em. Another $427."

Willie studied his cards for a long time. He looked keenly at Curly. Curly sighed inwardly, trying to keep from rolling his eyes heavenward. He figured Willie was hesitating mostly for show. It was not likely he would call the rest of his chips. "I guess you've got this hand beat. Maybe I shoulda drawn one." Willie dumped the hand.

Curly pulled in the side pot, a profit of $440. Of course, as soon as he showed down his unbeatable hand, he'd be entitled to the $27 in the main pot.

Gino spread his cards. "I got a 6-4." Even though he knew that Curly had him beat, he didn't look upset. Soon, Curly would show down the wheel. Gino would lose the $27 main pot, but so what? He would get that $11,435 jackpot.

Curly tossed the pat bicycle into the discards. "That's good. Take the pot." He beamed at the stunned thief. Gino could go a bit less than three more rounds on $27, and that only if he played no hands.