Yet another vivid description of our beloved game from Pauly at Tao of Poker:
If you want a happy hobby, try a ceramics class. If you want to have your balls shaved by a cheese grater every couple of hours, then poker is for you.
From Tao of Poker's Pauly, reporting on 2008 WSOP Main Event Day 1b:
During breaks the massage girls huddle up in the corner, sit down, relax, and exchange masseuse bad beat stories. One of the hot ones complained about one guy who smelled very bad. Another talked about the old creepy guy who wanted his feet massage. I know what you were thinking. It wasn't Sklansky.
Here are a few mostly unrelated stories from the first two days of the 2008 World Series of Poker Main Event, which began yesterday, all as reported by PokerNews, plus my comments on them.
The "All In" Paddle
Many poker fans will remember the debacle involving the Milwaukee's
Best "All-In Button" back in 2006. The idea behind it was for players to be able
to push the button into the middle in lieu of moving in towers and towers of
chips. Naturally, there was a great deal of confusion regarding the button, and
some pros were so horrified at the concept that they immediately threw it away
upon arriving at their Day 1 table.
In 2008, we now have the "All-In Paddle." Given to the dealers only, it
resembles something one might use to bid at an auction. The paddle will be
raised to notify the floor of all-in-and-call situations at each table.
Mercifully, there have been few paddle sightings thus far in the opening
hour of the Main Event.
She Said, She Said
Erica Schoenberg raised to 525 from middle position and a woman in the big
blind called. The flop came 7h-4s-10h. The BB checked, Schoenberg bet 700, and
her opponent called. The turn was the Kd. Again the BB checked. This time
Schoenberg bet 1,500, and again was called.
The river brought the 8s. The big blind checked, and Schoenberg bet 2,500.
Her opponent tossed out a 5,000 chip, though didn't announce her bet.
Schoenberg, thinking she had been called, turned over her hand -- Kc-10c, kings
and tens. Her opponent, thinking she had been called, showed hers -- 6s-5d, a
rivered straight.
Schoenberg, seeing she was beat, was obviously not putting anymore chips in
the pot. After some discussion, it was ruled as if she had folded to the
check-raise. Schoenberg now has 12,000.
Quad Aces are Good, Right? ... RIGHT?
Motoyuki "Moto" Mabuchi raises to 850 in middle position and the button
calls.
The flop is Ax-Qd-9x and both check. The turn is 10d and Moto bets 1,600.
The button calls. The river is Ad and Moto bets 2,500. The button raises to
8,500 and Moto reraises all in.
The button calls. Moto shows Ax-Ax for quad aces, but the button has Kd-Jd
for the royal flush. Moto is eliminated in stunning
fashion.
Knocked Down on All Fours
Huge roar from across the room just now as we had an all-in on the
river with the board showing 4d-Kh-Qc-Qd-4c.
The one who was covered showed 4h-4s for quad fours. His opponent
turned over Qs-Qh for quad queens.

One of the TV commercials that I probably saw a thousand times in my misspent, lazy youth featured some grizzled old cowboys playing poker, while one of them (or maybe more--I can't remember for sure) is eating a chocolate bar. One of them scowls, "These cards are marked!" Another one chimes in, "They're a mess!" A third one says, "A chocolate mess!" Sure enough, there are chocolaty fingerprints all over the cards. The players are up in arms--literally. But just before they shoot the guy with the sticky fingers, the M&M guys show up and save the day, because you can enjoy those candies without getting chocolate all over your hands. (Sadly and astonishingly, it seems that nobody has put this classic spot up on the web anywhere. I wanted to link to it or embed it here, but couldn't locate it.)
You see, there was a time when poker players and dealers actually cared about marked cards.
It appears that those days are gone--at least at the Flamingo, where I was playing last night.
I was one of ten players starting up a new table. On one of the first hands, when I looked down at my face-down hole cards, I instantly noticed a crease along one of the short edges of one of the cards. I noted that it was the 7 of spades. I was in Seat 1, so as I folded, I pointed out the crease to the dealer and suggested having the card replaced. She squinted and tilted the card this way and that, but said she couldn't see the crease. I pointed to it again. She finally saw it, but said, "I don't think anybody could see that from across the table," stuffed it in the muck with the rest of the deck, and moved on.
I wonder who at the Flamingo decided that the standard for deciding to replace a card is whether the distinctive flaw can be seen from "across the table," and when this rule was implemented, and where it is written down. It's an absurd criterion. I only need to be able to see it when it's lying on the table in front of the player next to me in order to gain an advantage. Additionally, if I'm sitting next to the dealer and can see every card from up-close as it is mucked, I don't need Superman's telescopic vision to see prominent marks or creases.
Suppose I'm in the big blind and get to see a free flop while holding the 7-2. The flop is, say, 7-7-K. Now, I like my trip sevens, but I would normally have to worry that somebody else has the last 7 in the deck with any kicker bigger than my deuce. On this hand, however, maybe I noticed that creased 7 of spades pass right in front of me as the player to my left mucked it from first position before the flop. Knowing that that card is out of play gives me an enormous amount of leverage in the hand--and I didn't have to be able to spot the flaw from "across the table."
Anyway, I decide not to put up a big fuss about it yet. I'll just wait and do my usual process (which I explained in a previous post here). Maybe an hour later I looked down at my hole cards and spotted that pesky edge crease again. Sure enough, it was the same 7s. Now I had proven to myself that I could identify it with confidence, and would prove that fact to the dealer at the next opportunity. It was maybe half an hour later that the crease caught my eye again as it headed for the muck, folded by another player. I asked the dealer to check the card, and if it was the 7s, they should probably replace it. It was, and they did. This dealer didn't fuss or argue about it, just called for a new card. I liked her for that.
She lost my endorsement, however, just a few minutes later. I was dealt the ace and king of spades. The ace had an enormous dimple in the center. I have no idea what caused it, but it looked as though somebody had tried to punch a hole in the center, but didn't quite penetrate. It was large enough that the other card couldn't lie flat on top of it, but wobbled like a teeter-totter. This had to be quite new, because I surely would have noticed it before.
When the hand was over, I pointed out the dimple to the dealer. She called for the replacement, but clearly didn't think it necessary. No less than three times while she was waiting for the floor to respond, she told me that I could find flaws like that in every deck in the room, and it really didn't need replacing. She ended each of these little speeches with a chuckle, presumably so that I wouldn't resent her comments, but they were unmistakably calculated to try to keep me from asking for any more card replacements. She said that the fingernails of female players often put little marks in the cards.
I understand that, and know the kind of tiny marks she's talking about, but this was ten or twenty times more prominent than that. It was a preposterous comparison to make.
A few weeks ago I was playing at Imperial Palace. On my first hand, I noticed a small but visible crease in one of the cards. I dutifully pointed it out to the dealer, who smiled, and told me that I'd find those on most of the cards. At first I was annoyed that he was ignoring my concern, but as I was dealt more hands, I learned that he was entirely correct. Apparently that room has one or more out-of-tune Shufflemasters that is putting a little crease on cards as they run through it. The majority of the cards have one or two such marks, all in the same location (or in symmetrical locations, if the card has been marked twice, once in each orientation). It's kind of strange, but it's not a problem, because the ubiquity of the marks means that they don't give away any useful information.
That was not the situation at the Flamingo with either of the two damaged cards I noticed. I'm not making mountains out of molehills.
When I was in poker dealer school, I bought, for practice purposes, a deck of top-grade Kem plastic cards, the brand used in most poker rooms. I think it cost $30. I assume that the casinos get them substantially cheaper than that, buying in large quantities--especially a huge chain like Harrah's that is buying thousands of decks at a time. So let's assume that the Flamingo can get a deck for about $10 each. That's about 20 cents per card, or about 4% of the amount of the $5 maximum rake that they take on one hand. Yet they balk at replacing cards that have become so damaged that they are readily identifiable to any player who is paying attention.
How much is game integrity worth to the people that run the Flamingo poker room? Less than 20 cents, for sure, since they put up a fuss about spending that much to protect it.
Addendum, July 5, 2008
Many thanks to commenter "Michael" for pointing me to this:
Back in April I groused about The Toothpick People, guys who sit at the poker table sucking/chewing on toothpicks. It's stupid and makes the person doing it look stupid.
Even worse, though, is doing it on national television. Look at this bespectacled moron, Brett Faustman, who was on the World Poker Tour last week. (I'm just getting around to watching it now.) He chewed on his pointy little pacifier through the whole final table.
I think that when he was preparing for his television debut, he thought, "How can I show the world what a country bumpkin Southern redneck hick backwoods hillbilly inbred half-wit imbecile I am? [Light bulb clicks on over his head.] I know! I'll chew on a toothpick! Everybody recognizes that as a symbol of pure good ol' boy idiocy!"
And whaddaya know--it worked. It projected exactly the image he was shooting for. Next best thing to growing out a mullet.
Congratulations, you dweeb.

Astute readers may have noticed, in my last post about a painful razz hand, that I have moved up in stakes. For the last ten days or so, I've been playing $1/$2 instead of my previous comfort level of $0.50/$1. I have Shamus to thank for that (though he doesn't know it). He shared with me some of his razz hands by email, and I noticed that he was playing $1/$2.
This had two effects. First, I thought, "Well, dammit, if he can do it, so can I." Which, in this case isn't really an ego thing like it sounds, just a recognition that I'm pretty sure he hasn't played much more razz than I have, so the step up apparently doesn't require a lot of additional experience. Secondly, I noticed in the hand histories that the play isn't markedly better a step higher on the ladder. So I made the leap, and, sure enough, have continued to turn a small but consistent profit.
Anyway, that's not what this post is about. This is about how tired I'm getting of every table having one or two players that, for whatever reason, won't turn on the auto-ante option. I can't figure out what they have against it. It's a royal pain in the butt to have to click "ante" at the beginning of every hand, and it annoys everybody else at the table to make them wait while you do it.
Today I had had enough, and wrote the following email to PokerStars support:
I hope you can explain something to me. I have been playing a lot of razz
cash games on your site lately. It seems that nearly always there is at least
one player at the table who won't turn on the auto-ante feature, and every hand
is delayed for 10 or 15 seconds while we all wait for the same guy every time
around. It's really annoying, and also cuts way down on the number of hands per
hour we play (and thus cuts down on the rake you can collect).
I can't figure out why auto-ante is an optional feature. If a player is
going to be in a hand, he's going to have to put in the ante, so why is doing it
automatically optional? If somebody wants to sit out for a hand or for several
hands, there's the "sit out next hand" button. In effect, all that having
auto-ante be optional does is to give every player the ability to delay the
beginning of the next hand anytime he wants to, or anytime he is not paying
sufficient attention. I can't for the life of me see any positive benefit to
giving players the power to delay the game.
Can you explain what advantage PokerStars sees in having auto-ante be
optional, given its obvious downside?
Thank you.
Thank you for your email. I appreciate your comments. The reason that
players have the option of ante-ing is only because, if they are involved in the
prior hand, they may not have time to turn of the ante feature should they take
a bad beat and decide not to play anymore. I suspect that many would be upset at
losing a big hand and then being forced to play the next one when they may well
have wanted to walk away from the table or even quit the game. To that end, we
must give players the option of the decision.
Thank you for giving us the opportunity to explain. Please let me know
if there is anything else that we can do for you.
Regards,
Larry
PokerStars Support Team
Another disturbing-if-true story of highly selective application of the rules by WSOP tournament staff, found here (thanks to Pokerati for the link):
My first table of the 1500 had an empty seat on it for over 2 hours. If
you've played any WSOP events, you know that an empty seat at your first table
is *always* a pro running late, but usually, they tend to show up within an
hour. This time, the stack was being blinded off all the way to the 100/200
level, so by the time the pro - who turned out to be Scotty - showed up, he was
already down to 1800 chips.
Naturally, Scotty was unhappy about that and asked the dealer why he didn't
have 3K. But at the WSOP, only late registrations get their full 3K chips (and
get seated in Seat 10); everyone else gets a regular seat and then gets blinded
off if they're late, which is normal. Scotty, though, obviously didn't like the
idea of starting out with a 9 bet stack, said "I'm not playing", and went off to
find the tournament director. I think he just wanted to be allowed to
unregister, but instead, a couple of minutes later, the floor showed up with a
full stack and gave it to him. On the one hand, this is pretty much blatant
cheating - it's a free 1200 chips that nobody not named Scotty Nguyen would ever
get; on the other, I a)kinda sympathized with the guy and b)personally was of
the opinion that I was better off with Scotty having 15 BB at my table than him
having 9. (Don't get me wrong; he clearly plays well. But much like every other
live pro, the guy's not particularly math-oriented and doesn't know short stack
strategy.)