It wouldn’t happen in online poker… Caribbean adventure goes feral when chaos breaks out in a live cash game
This is the story of a moral dilemma in the Caribbean. I imagine that part of the world has been the scene of far more than its fair share of these. This one, however, doesn’t involve anything extramarital, any offshore accounts, or an under-the-influence, under- insured, jet-skiing dolphin- collision incident.
Instead, this one takes place across the green baize. I was playing some cash poker, as I do, after a hard day’s work. Of course, by work I mean hanging out talking to some poker players and sitting on the beach.
Now whisper it quietly but I’m starting to have some problems with live poker. I mean, I’ve loved it for so long but compared to online it’s very, very slow, it’s not in my house and then there’s this…
A couple of hours into my late night chillout poker session (complete with mellow grooves on my MP3 player) a guy from a bigger game sits down on my left and slams down about double the table maximum in chips. He’s friendly, has clearly sampled the traditional local drink a lot (rum by the way) and is ready to gamble.
He plays about half the hands he’s dealt, always trying to be the bully in any pot and succeeding against what is quite a weak table. He’s been doing this for about 20 minutes when I pick up A?-K? in the small blind. There are two limpers so I make a decent raise. Almost without thinking Mr Big Game triples my bet.
Now because of the way he’s been playing and the way he jams his chips in I’m very sure I have the best hand. I think a bit about how to play it and get more of his money in the middle. As we’re both deep-stacked I decide to call and check-raise all-in on a lot of flops, confident he’ll be betting whatever happens. (In hindsight I should have just shoved it in pre-flop – thinking too much is a curse.)
I call and the flop brings 4?-9? and the beautiful A?. I check as planned and he bets, following the script. I then think a little (you know… for the cameras) before moving all-in – and he insta-calls! I’ll be honest with you, this is not ideal.
I flip my cards over with the still desperate hope that the sun and rum have gone to Mr Big Game’s head. ‘I’ve flopped top two,’ he declares, as he shows A-9 to have me completely crushed.
No bad beats
Now don’t panic, this isn’t a bad beat column, it’s about what happens next. Before I get to that I should mention the dealers at the tournament were a mix of poker dealers from US cardrooms and non-poker dealers from the hotel casino. Now our man running things definitely wasn’t a poker dealer. I’m not sure what he was used to dealing – I’m guessing Happy Families – but he’d been having big problems all night.
As my opponent tables his A-9, time slows down and suddenly we’re inside the matrix where all things are possible. Slowly, from nowhere, the dealer reaches out, picks up my opponents’ cards and places them calmly on top of the muck. There’s a brief pause of suspended animation as the madness of what’s just happened sinks in, and then people start shouting. Mr Big Game is shouting… a lot. Most of it is potty mouth. Other people are shouting. Strangely, even I’m shouting…?!
Panicked into action (and by the way a Bahamian panicked into action moves at about three times the speed of a normal Bahamian, which is still half the speed of you or I), the dealer takes the cards off the muck, puts them back on the table and states, ‘I didn’t realise you’d called.’
It’s as if rather than doing his job of dealing he was gently replaying a favourite movie in his head – I mean there were a few clues for him to work off: all the money went in the middle, he had two-pair and, y’know, he said, ‘I call.’ Small clues I grant you, but they were there for the observant dealer.
Big decision
So now what am I supposed to do? Of course, technically the dealer has killed his hand and I’m well within my rights to declare it. I also know if the floor is called they’ll kill the hand. But why should he lose the pot because the dealer is spending his time trying to find Mr Bun the Baker in the deck between deals?
After a few seconds’ thought it was an easy decision. I’d been coolered but he had the best hand, and if you can’t take your lumps you can’t play poker. I let it go and we ran the hand. There were no miracles and he took down the pot – generously giving me some of my money back for letting it stand.
Now this game was at one of the lowest limits I play and on a fabulous ‘work’ trip when I was totally mellowed out by sun and fun. But the question is: could I have been the same magnanimous guy in a huge pot in a bigger game – or at, say, the final table of a big event? After all, it’s easy to be nice for ‘fun money’ underneath the Bahamian sun…
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