The Language of Bets

It's money that matters, hear what I say;

It's money that matters, in the USA.

I was at Bellagio recently, sweating my friend Uge (short for "Eugene") in a $4-$8 hold'em game. I've taught Uge basically everything he knows about poker, starting with, "A flush beats a straight." So, when he does flaky things at the poker table, I take it kind of personally: "Wait – did I teach you that?"

There were a number of circumstances in which he seemed completely deaf to the messages his opponents were trying to send him. I got to thinking about that: Did he even realize what they were saying?

After all, at a poker table, you can wave your hands, shuffle your chips, or say any manner of true or untrue statements. But when it comes down to it, you speak with your bets. Of course, you may be telling the truth or a lie with that bet, but you are making a statement.

Let's take an extreme example: You and a single opponent have tangled up in a hand, and bets have flown back and forth on every street. Now, the river comes, and you fire a bet. You are saying, "I have the best hand, and for the price of one big bet, you can see just exactly how much better my hand is than yours." Your opponent pauses and looks at you. "I have you beat," says he. "You were drawing to the flush, and I and everybody else at the table can see that it didn't get there." You quietly look at the turn card, the 5. "I've got second pair here, with an ace kicker," he continues. Your gaze turns to the 2, which was in the flop. "I wonder why they call them 'clubs,'" you think to yourself. "I'm giving up the best hand … " he finishes.

And then he folds.

Well, what did all that talk mean? Frankly, nothing. He folded. You get the money, next hand. So, after his soliloquy, what was the important message? "I think you have the better hand, ma'am" is what his cards said as they flew toward the muck.

Now, let's get back to Eugene. There was a hand in which he open-raised with A-J suited before the flop. He was called only by the big blind. The flop came K-J and some rag I don't remember. Uge had flopped second pair with an ace kicker. His opponent looked at the flop and bet. Hmm. What did that bet say? Well, in a bigger, tougher game, it might mean a lot of things. But in this game, from this opponent, that bet meant, "Gee, I like this flop." So, he probably had at least top pair.

I liked the course of action that Uge took – he raised. He was saying to his opponent, "I don't care if you like your hand; I like mine even better." Uge's opponent looked perplexed, and called. What does the call say? "Well, OK. Maybe your hand is better, but I'm not ready to give up yet."

The turn was a completely uninteresting card – something small and not suited. The big blind looked, thunk, and bet again. Well, that pretty much sealed it for me. In poker, we have a standard phrase, "Check to the raiser." It's such common behavior that there's a cliché for it. And yet, Mr. Big Blind didn't check to the raiser. He heard Uge's message, looked at a seemingly innocuous turn card, and bet right into the raiser.

There was no doubt in my mind that Uge was behind, perhaps badly. But he's pretty much a novice, and doesn't always realize what his opponents are saying with their chips. So, he raised again! Now, both his opponent, who didn't know Uge's cards, and I, who did, were equally confused. Think about what that raise said: "I don't care that you didn't care about my raise on the flop. I really mean it – you're not listening – I have the best hand."

His poor opponent shook his head, and called.

The river was yet another meaningless card, and the big blind had finally had enough of Eugene's yelling; he checked. Eugene blithely slid out a bet, looking for all the world like he had the stone-cold nuts. In fact, he looked so relaxed and confident, I'm pretty sure he thought he had the best hand.

The big blind called, surely expecting to be shown a monster. Uge proudly turned up his A-J. His opponent stared, two or three other people at the table stared, and then his opponent turned up a king with a 9 or 10 kicker, and dragged the pot.

Poker betting is a language of its own. Sometimes it's subtle, given in shades of gray and whispered innuendo. But in most low-limit games, it is a limited vocabulary, spoken clearly and generally without deceit. Pay attention or miss important messages.

Hey, hey, baby, can't you hear me callin'?