Old Habits Die Hard

Curly didn't usually play $200-limit lowball. The game was too big, and the competition too good. There were plenty of suckers in the $20 and $30, and not very many in the $200. But he had been having a very good run of luck, and the game had a real producer.

Dealin' Down Don's name was on the plaque at the local Chevy dealer's more often than any other employee as Salesman of the Month. He had won the incentive trip to Hawaii so many times that the owners of the dealership had to offer multiple trips so other salesmen and saleswomen wouldn't get discouraged. Dealin' Down could sell a Corvette to a retired schoolteacher. All the customers loved him – and so did the poker players. Don came in about once a month and usually lost $10,000 to $20,000.

When a seat came open, Curly was next on the list. He took the $2,000 he was ahead in the $30-limit game over to the big game.

Someone else was in the game, too. Al Rubirosa was possibly the best high-stakes limit player in Northern California. He was also the most proficient mechanic who came into The Club, but Curly wasn't too worried about that. Al played on the square most of the time in The Club, because Franco, the owner, was one of his best friends. Franco usually played in the $200, which no one minded, because Franco, while a reasonably competent player, was also fond of putting in a lot of action. He might have a pat 7 if he got into a raising war with you, but he also might be drawing a card, and he could even be on a flat snow.

Al had been there for less than an hour, but already had started drinking heavily. He usually made a fifth of scotch last for several hours, together with the beer chasers, but today it looked like he'd already had almost that much.

Curly sat two positions to Al's right. Dealin' Down Don was two positions to Al's left. It was Al's deal, and Don had put in $100 for the big blind. Nobody had yet opened the pot as Curly picked up his cards, 10-8-7-6-joker. It was not a hand with which he would usually open with four players yet to come in, but he had a tell on Smitty to his left. If Smitty was planning on playing the pot, he sat relatively quietly, but if he was going to fold and the player on his right slowed down the action, he showed a bit of impatience. Curly slowly spread his cards. He didn't actually need to look at them, having seen them all as he picked up the hand. As Curly looked over the tops of his cards, he saw Don sloppily pick up his cards and briefly expose two facecards, which made Don no threat. Detecting impatience on his left, Curly now threw eight $25 chips into the pot.

As predicted, Smitty folded.

Al, too, had seen the paints in Don's cards, but was still sober enough to realize that Curly knew he had seen them. If he raised now without a real hand, Curly would reason that his raise was based on knowledge that Don did not have a playable hand and he could more easily steal this pot. Al folded.

Jim, in the middle blind position, called. He too had likely seen part of Don's hand, and was hoping to get a cheap draw.

Don, unaware, as usual, that he had flashed part of his hand to half the table, raised.

Curly did not want Jim to have that cheap draw, and reraised.

Jim, not knowing what foolishness Don might pull, nor what kind of hand Curly was likely to have, folded.

Don called. "Can't bluff, you know. Gimme two."

A 10-8, while not a terrific lowball hand, had a decided edge over a two-card draw. Curly rapped the table, signifying a pat hand.

Al picked up the cards to deal. He was starting to slip into an alcoholic haze, and nearly dropped the deck. It took him a moment to get Don's two cards to him.

Don picked them up. "Check."

Curly spread his hand.

Don threw his cards away. "Boy, how can you play a rough hand like that? Every time I play a 10, I get beat in three spots."

Curly had won $825 on the hand – three bets from Don, one from Jim, and Al's $25 dealer ante.

While Jim shuffled, Smitty launched his sit-down comic routine. "This morning the newsboy came by to collect for the month. I talked him into pitching pennies for the bill. Kid got me for $21,000. But I could have beat him out of nine or 10 bucks."

By the time the deal returned to Al, he had had two more scotches and two beer chasers. "Hey, Smitty, deal for me, willya? I don't wanna drop th' cards."

Smitty shuffled, passed the cards to Curly to cut, and started dealing, giving the first card to Jim, and ending each round with a card for Al.

Curly picked up a few hands during the next round, and was soon ahead more than $4,000 for this game. He could afford to relax and just wait for the hands to come. This gave him the opportunity to watch a strange phenomenon.

Just after Smitty dealt for himself, Al started scooping up the discards. Slowly, painfully, because he could hardly hold the cards in his fingers, he began to slug the deck. If he wasn't drunk, he would have done it in such a way that no one could detect the move. As it was, Curly could see him carefully placing certain cards in specified locations. Just as he had the deck set, the hand ended, and the two players involved dumped their cards. Smitty picked up those 10 cards, and gently extricated the remainder of the deck from Al's fingers. Al turned to look at Smitty quizzically, realized that he had asked Smitty to deal, and smiled.

Each round it happened again. With Franco not being in the game, Al evidently had convinced himself that it was OK to make a move. It was not something he would ever do when less into his alcoholic stupor. Just prior to dealing, he would, with increasing difficulty, attempt to arrange the cards for a false shuffle and a "double duke" – one good hand placed somewhere at the table, and a slightly better one to himself. Each time, it would slowly dawn on him that he wouldn't be dealing, and he disgustedly dumped the deck.

Curly had never seen anything like it – the master at work, so besotted by drink that he was playing and attempting to cheat on autopilot.

Crash! Al slumped sideways in his chair and knocked the drink table over. At that moment, Dealin' Down Don dropped his last $25 chip into a pot that he did not win.

Don got up.

Two security officers gently lifted a weakly protesting Al Rubirosa from his seat.

Curly, too, got up. There was nothing left for him in this game – no more easy money, nothing to watch.