For Want of a Nail

For want of a nail

the shoe was lost.

For want of a shoe

the horse was lost.

For want of a horse

the rider was lost.

For want of a rider

the battle was lost.

For want of a battle

the kingdom was lost.

And all for the want

of a horseshoe nail.

Not quite as dramatic as the old homily, but I lost a big pot for want of a chip that someone had tossed to hold his place at an empty seat.

In many cardrooms, players signal their intention to change seats by tossing a chip from their stack to the empty seat. That essentially locks up the seat. Some cardrooms require a formal request to the dealer or a floorperson, but many are less formal. This relaxed atmosphere held in the $20 single-limit Northern California lowball game in which I had a seat in San Jose's Garden City Casino.

Loose Larry had been losing. He had just lost a big pot in the big blind, and now it was his small blind. Before the house dealer distributed the cards, Larry grabbed a chip from his shrinking stack and threw it to the empty seat across the table. If anyone came to sit down at the table before Larry was actually able to move, or if the floorman checked the game before seating a new player, he would ask the table in general, "Does someone have this seat locked up?" In such case, Larry would likely say, "Yeah, I'm taking that seat. I have to wait for the blinds to get back to me." Larry would not be expected to move immediately because he was in the middle of the blinds, and a player is permitted to play the five "free" hands after the blinds before being required to move. If Larry changed his mind – which might well occur if he won the next hand – he might say to a player waiting for the seat, "Go on, take it; I'm staying here." Or, he might say to the floorman, "Go ahead, sell it; I changed my mind." In that case, either the new player or the floorman would toss Larry's chip back to him.

That is just by way of explaining procedure. There were no names on the board and no one actually came over to take the seat. (A chip used for this purpose, by the way, is called a plug, a lock chip, or simply a lock.)

After putting in his small blind, Larry now had six $5 chips in his stack. This number is important.

I was first after the big blind. I had a pat hand, 7-6-5-4-3, and opened.

Jimmy Two called. His name is actually Lorenzo, but everyone called him "Jimmy Two" because of the frequency with which he drew two cards, always announcing "Jimmy Two" as he did.

The remaining players, including the button, folded.

Loose Larry announced, "All in," and put his small stack in the pot, bringing the bet to $35. The rule at Garden City is that a player may go all in for any $5 multiple over one bet, but that bet is considered "action only" if the total does not equal two bets, or $40. Some clubs in Southern California rule that half a bet constitutes a raise, but not here. (Other places do not permit a player to raise all in if the player does not have at least a full bet. The player may call before the draw. Whether the player can bet less than a full bet after the draw or only call, and whether such a bet can be raised to equal two full bets or by one full bet is interpreted differently in different clubs, and has no bearing on this situation. I mention it only in adding my voice to the clamor for standardized rules for cardrooms.) That is, Larry's all-in bet could not be raised here. I knew the rule, but totally forgot about Larry's chip that he had thrown to the empty seat. Of course, I wanted Larry to make a full raise here, because I wanted to reraise to protect my hand. I did not want Jimmy Two to have a cheap chance at drawing out on my hand.

All I could do was call the extra three chips. Jimmy Two reluctantly added two more chips to the pot. I knew he would be drawing two cards.

Larry said to the house dealer, "One card." As Larry pulled the king out of his hand, he held his cards faceup so that everyone could clearly see that he had the joker in the door. Some players think they have to justify the loose-appearing play of raising from first position and drawing a card. Of course, the play needs no justification. Even without the joker, raising to draw to a good hand is often a play with positive expectation.

I stood pat.

Jimmy chirped his usual "Jimmy Two," and I knew he was going considerably uphill against my pat 7, because the joker was already accounted for.

Larry, being all in now, could not bet.

I could, and did, creating a side pot.

Jimmy stared at his cards for a long time, which made me think my hand was good, and finally threw in $20.

Larry whipped a pair of fives out of his hand, angrily saying, "I can't win," and mucked his hand. He jumped out of his chair and ran over to the empty seat while pulling his wallet out of his pocket to replenish his chips.

I showed my hand, and Jimmy spread his, 7-6-5-4-2. He had just notched me.

Now, if I had been able to reraise, Jimmy would have thrown his cards away for another $40. Even though he often drew two cards, he would never put in three bets to do so, definitely not without the joker. All I had to do when Larry announced his all-in bet was say, "Wait a minute. He's not quite in. That's Larry's $5 chip across the table, and it plays on this hand." Then, I would have been able to reraise, and Jimmy would not have come in. Instead of losing $55, I would have won $67. (That includes the $10 big blind and the button's $5 blind, and subtracts the $3 drop.) That was a difference of $122, more than six bets.

For want of a nail …