A Father's Day Bad Beat - But Did He Capitalize?

My dad always said, "The family that gambles together stays together." So, when we heard the boys were jamming it up in a $10-$20 hold'em game, we couldn't think of a better way to celebrate Father's Day. This was back in '94, but I still remember it as if it were yesterday.

I was running bad at the time. I can't remember how much I was stuck or how long the streak had lasted, but it was bad enough that I was seriously thinking about giving up poker. So there I was, in the bowels of a smoky basement, trying to find my "A" game and praying that the poker gods would finally start cooperating. I wasted little time getting stuck a nickel ($500), even though family pots and blind raises were the norm.

I learned quickly that big pairs rarely hold up when everyone sees the flop. So, when I called with the A 6 under the gun and it came back to me capped with nine players, I loved my hand. When the flop came A 6u 4, I bet, figuring I'd get raised and could pop it again. It didn't happen, but with five callers – including my dad, who was in the big blind – the pot was now $420 and I was starting to like poker again. The 10 on the turn made me feel even better, especially when I bet and three players called. With aces up and the nut-flush draw, I had all but stacked the chips and counted my get-even pot.

When a red jack came on the river, my euphoria was disturbed not so much by my dad's bet, but by the look of guilt on his face. What could he have? If he had A-J, I would have heard from him on the flop. If he had a set of tens, I would have heard from him on the turn. A set of jacks? Being in the big blind, he never had a chance to put a raise in before the flop, but he also never would have played to the river. He knows my play well enough to be sure that I wouldn't have led at the flop in a ninehanded pot without at least an ace.

There was no hand that he could have, yet I knew that I was beat. So, what did I do? The same thing most bad players do when they know they are beat – I called. Another player called behind me, and I watched my dad rake in a $560 pot.

He had K-Q, but not just any K-Q. He had the K Q. As he graciously explained to me, the backdoor flush draw is what gave him the extra value to take one off after the flop. And, as he so delicately reminded me, it wasn't just the backdoor flush draw – it was the backdoor nut-flush draw. Boy, does that make me feel better.

Aside from heating up my insides, let's examine what he did wrong. He actually played his hand wrong on only one street – the river. Sure, he chased, but the odds justified chasing. After the flop, he was getting 40-to-1 to pick up a flush draw or a gutshot straight draw, or make a pair. That's 22 cards that would give him some outs (actually, 21, since the 6 would have filled me up). On the turn, he was getting 24-to-1 for a four-outer to make the nut straight. On the river, when he bet out, is when he finally made a mistake. He should have check-raised and picked up two more big bets.

The odds show that this was far from a bad beat. When you hear players complain about bad beats, they are seeing the hand only from their own perspective. The popular notion is that expert players don't give bad beats, and when a solid player (like my dad) hits a backdoor draw, it must have been because he got out of line. The truth is that as long as you are getting the right pot odds, it is correct to "chase" when you don't have the best hand. And whether it's a stranger, an old buddy, or even your son, you better get value for the hand when you make it.

In business, investing in a long shot opens you up to ridicule. When things don't work out, you're bound to hear dozens of "I told you so's." But as long as you have calculated the odds and know that the return on your investment justifies the risk, it makes sense to roll the dice. When it pans out, you better know how to maximize the return.

Starbucks took a big risk building a chain of coffee shops before the idea was fashionable. When customers stormed through the door, they charged $3.50 for a cup of flavored water with a cute name. The payoff for their risk – tremendous volume at ridiculously high margins. How much can it possibly cost to make a mocha latte?

When you chase and get there, you better capitalize. Dad, you could have used a lesson from Starbucks. But for saving me that big bet, the least I can do is wish you a happy Father's Day. Have a good one, you lucky son of a gun!

Greg Dinkin is the author of the Finance Doctor (www.doctordink.com). He is also the co-founder of Venture Literary (www.ventureliterary.com), where he works with authors to find publishers for their books and producers for their films.