Yang Had Childs Covered (Despite What ESPN Says)

Watched ESPN’s edited version of the final table last night (am still working my way through the unedited, pay-per-view broadcast).

All in all found the show pretty damn anticlimactic. The fireworks early on were interesting enough, though I much preferred watching them without knowing the hole cards and in their proper context. Those dueling prayers on Lee Watkinson’s bustout hand (from Yang’s wife and Watkinson’s girlfriend) did provide for an awkward moment. The second, final hour was pretty miserable poker TV, really, with the edits making everything from four-handed on down seem like a turbo SNG.

Worst of all, ESPN made what I’d consider a fairly significant mistake in the way they presented one of the most important hands of the final table, Hand No. 9.

I wrote a lengthy post about this hand a few weeks ago, so I won’t go through all of the particulars again. That was the one where Lee Childs laid down his pocket queens to Jerry Yang’s all-in flop bet. We saw once and for all last night that Yang indeed had jacks -- and heard Norman Chad add his usual after-the-fact censure of a losing player’s decision-making.

Whether you agree with Childs’ decision to lay the hand down or not, there was one meaningful detail about the hand that ESPN simply got wrong. In my post about the hand, I mentioned how Yang had won the previous hand, thus taking his stack up to 13.8 million or so. It may have been closer to 14 million, actually. Whatever it was, for the first time since play began, Yang had Childs covered, as Childs only had 13.3 million in chips. Click here to see PokerNews’ reporting of the hand in question in which B.J. Nemeth specifically notes how Yang had Childs covered.

During the broadcast last night, we are not told exactly how many chips either player has when the hand begins. Then Yang pushes on the flop, we see one of those “To Call: 7.78 mil” graphics, suggesting that Childs would have something behind were he to call. Then Lon McEachern says, quite clearly, “this would be for almost all of Lee Childs’s chips.”

But he is wrong. Childs would not have had any chips left if he called. In other words, calling meant -- definitively -- that Childs would be putting his tourney life on the line.

Maybe this is a bit nitty of me to think significant. But facts are facts, and ESPN definitely misrepresented ’em here. And while the decision by Childs to lay down his queens might well have been a bad one, ESPN made it look even worse in the way they presented the hand last night.

The Psychology of Record-Keeping

I’ve written before here about my OCDish attitude toward record-keeping. A favorite subject, I confess. Hell, it’s more than that. It’s an essential theory informing the whole idea of writing a poker blog, actually.

Shortly after I first began playing online, I started logging every session in one of those pocket-sized, black oilcloth-covered, Moleskine-brand journals. There I note the game, limit, number of hands, minutes played, amount won or lost, as well as running tallies for the week, month, and overall. Somewhere along the way I also started entering a lot of the same info into an Excel spreadsheet, mainly as a way to double-check my math. And there’s what gets recorded over in PokerTracker, too. Still recording it all manually, though. Indeed, for me the process of writing down results has become something of a necessary ritual punctuating each online session.

About two weeks ago I finally reached the last page of my original journal, and so I had to begin a second one. I debated a bit whether to change my format for logging entries, but decided just to keep things the way they were. Has been working to this point, I thought. So I’m still recording all that info about each session. And, over there on the right-hand margin, I continue to calculate and enter that figure representing overall online winnings in a column described bluntly as “Total.”

When I first started with this record-keeping stuff, I immediately noticed a couple of effects. For one, I started winning. As many others have noted, simply keeping track of the pluses and minuses goes a long way toward helping one discover what’s working and what ain’t. Another effect was less tangible. I found myself starting to absorb losing sessions more easily. Being able to look back on a run of winning sessions certainly helps in that regard. So does taking a gander at that “Total” number over on the right.

When I started the second journal, I wondered whether it made sense to keep recording that “Total” figure. What does the number really signify, anyway? Since I’ve cashed out quite a bit along the way, the number does not represent my online bankroll, currently spread among five different sites. (I keep that total in yet another place, actually.) Since I began playing back in ’04, the number doesn’t represent yearly earnings, either, so there’s no point to keep it for tax reasons, really. So why keep writing it down?

As I play more, I’ve noticed I’ve become less and less influenced by that “Total” figure. I used to remain very conscious of whether or not I was sitting at an “All-Time High,” meaning that whenever I wasn’t at that point I felt an urgency of sorts, as if I were perpetually “behind” and needed to catch up. A weird mentality, if you think about it. If you give too much weight to whether or not you are at an ATH, you’re always either even or down (never up).

Like I say, I’m less affected by that “Total” figure today than I was even just a few months ago, although I’ll admit to experiencing a feeling of satisfaction whenever that number happens to be larger than all the ones listed in the column above it. And even though I know we ain’t supposed to be worrying to much about what the chips represent when at the table, I’m convinced that keeping track of things like this produces many, many more benefits than deficits, psychologically speaking.

For those of you who also keep such records, what do all them figures you keep writing down represent to you?

300th Post (a.k.a., Hey, Everybody! More Dead Money!)

Check it out. This is my 300th post. Had ideas of some kind of big, windbaggy, self-aggrandizing retrospective. Something suitably reflective to mark the occasion.

I thought about it. Finally decided to let this here moment pass without such fanfare.

I mean we can’t always live in the past, can we? Gotta look ahead.

Like to Sunday.

Because I have registered to play in the PokerStars World Blogger Championship of Online Poker!

This Online Poker Tournament is a No Limit Texas Hold ’em event exclusive to Bloggers.

Registration code: 2261433

Good Gawd am I in trouble.

2007 WSOP Final Table Hand No. 92: On the Lam

Heard a comic on one of the XM comedy channels yesterday doing a familiar bit about how Americans are out of shape, obese, etc. Same old stuff. Somewhere in the catalogue of bad habits he says something like “No wonder our kids are overweight. We’re sitting there on the couch watching other people play cards! We can’t even be bothered to play ourselves. No, I can’t cut the deck! Might reach my target heart rate . . . .”

Yeah, well. What can you do? Somebody’s gotta keep track of this stuff.

Was almost painful to watch ESPN’s chronicling of Scotty Nguyen’s sudden tumble just shy of the final table. While they showed the hands that erased his stack, ESPN did not show the first of Nguyen’s missteps -- perhaps the hand that precipitated his rapid fall. Having built his stack up over 15 million, Nyugen lost about a third of that in a curious blind-vs.-blind in which Nguyen tried and failed to run his over Tuan Lam’s pocket tens. They did show the two big hands he lost to Philip Hilm -- also blind-vs.-blind hands. (Wrote a bit here about all three of these hands back in July.) Looked as though Hilm was able to get under the Prince of Poker’s skin, with Nguyen appearing to lose his cool, sending a couple of F-bombs in Hilm’s direction during his slide down to the felt.

The edited version of the Main Event final table airs next week. Meanwhile, I’ve been spending even more time watching other people play cards as I move through the unedited, pay-per-view broadcast of the ME final table.

I watched Jerry Yang knock off Hevad “Rain” Khan in that oddly-played Hand No. 56. After a middle position raise from Yang, Khan reraised to 6 million from the big blind (leaving himself only 3 million or so). Yang called -- and appeared as though he would’ve turned his cards over then, had he not been stopped -- and for some reason Khan felt compelled to declare himself all-in in the dark. The flop came king-high, Yang called, and Yang’s pocket jacks outlasted Khan’s ace-queen.

Hellmuth was in the booth during Khan’s bustout, and afterwards he and Gordon engaged in a brief debate inspired by Khan’s earlier antics. Hellmuth essentially endorsed such shenanigans, and when Gordon tried to object Hellmuth quickly cut him off, saying “You’re out of your league if you want to argue this with me.” “Then why not just turn the game over to clowns,” answered a sullen-sounding Gordon.

I watched Jon Kalmar get bounced in 5th place just a few hands later (Hand No. 60) after losing a standard A-K vs. J-J race with Raymond Rahme. Then came a fairly uneventful stretch of thirty hands or so lasting until the dinner break. Hand No. 92 was the first after the break, about ten hours after the final table had begun.

Unlike most of the final table hands to this point, this one actually involves Tuan Lam. Lam’s strategy prior to the dinner break had been essentially one of avoidance. During the first 91 hands, Lam willingly participated in just 15, winning eight and losing seven. He had yet to show down a single hand. He began the night with over 21 million chips (in second place just behind Hilm), but by this hand had dwindled down to 11.25 million, making him the short stack among the final four players.

Blinds are up to 200,000/400,000, with a 50,000 ante. Raymond Rahme folds from UTG, and Alex Kravchenko, who has a tad more than Lam with 11.75 million, limps in from the button. Yang, who begins this hand with over 71 million, completes from the small blind. Lam checks his cards and taps the table in short order, accepting the free look at the flop. There is 1.4 million in the pot.

The flop comes . Yang checks fairly quickly. Lam riffles his chips for 15 seconds or so and announces a bet of 1.5 million. Lam’s lime-green PokerStars T-shirt, wrap-around shades, and moussed hair make him look young, but the measured cadence of his voice reminds us he’s much older than your typical internet whiz kid (41, to be exact). Kravchenko thinks a bit, then folds. The action is on Yang.

As Yang ponders, Gordon points out how frequently Yang has check-raised Lam during the course of the evening. After twenty seconds, he announces raise. “Like clockwork,” says Gordon. The raise is to 4.5 million, meaning a call from Lam would leave the Canadian only about 7 million behind. We see Lam lick his lips and look over in Yang’s direction. He looks up at the dealer. “I’m gonna go all in,” he says. The crowd erupts.

“How much more to me?” asks Yang quietly. The chips are counted. He’s told it is 6.3 million to call. Yang takes some time to stack up and separate exactly 6.3 million of his chips, then resumes his usual hands-over-mouth pose of contemplation for another fifteen seconds. He leans back. “All right, I call,” he finally says.

We see Lam’s eyebrows raise slightly. He’s not particularly happy to have been called. Lam shows for the open-ender and two overs. Yang has for middle pair and an over. Kind of surprised neither player raised preflop with these hands, especially four-handed, though I suppose Kravchenko’s call from the button froze both. The percentages show Yang only a slight favorite here at 53%.

Both players stand. Lam leans forward, hands on the table’s brown felt rim. Yang pumps his right fist. The turn is the . Lam still has a good number of outs -- the three remaining aces, four nines, three kings, and three queens.

When the pops out as the river card, the crowd cheers wildly. Lam finds himself in a group hug with some Canadian-flag waving friends. One tells him “You can do it. Okay? I told you. You can do it.” Yang comes over and shakes Lam’s hand. Amid a drunken chorus of “O Canada,” Lam allows himself a shout of “Yes!” and sits back down, still smiling, stacking his 23 million chips. Yang slips down to 60 million on the hand.

After the hand, Gordon speaks of Yang’s need to “refocus” and “shake it off,” but I’m wondering more about Lam’s mindset. Lam clearly came back from the break thinking he would have to make a move soon, though a preflop raise with king-queen didn’t seem right for him. Then after flopping an attractive draw, he makes a somewhat desperate push, gets called, then gets a bit lucky to survive. Does he now retreat back into his shell? The super-tight, stay-out-of-trouble approach helped him into the final four. Now that he’s back to his original starting stack, will he sit out another stretch of hands, seeing if he can make it further?

Probably not a strategy to win the tournament -- to stay out of danger, to remain “on the lam” as long as possible, as it were -- but a lucrative one nonetheless.

All that folding has a side benefit, as well. It keeps one’s heart rate down.

2007 WSOP Final Table Hand No. 40: “Can We See?”

Tonight ESPN continues with its edited version of the 2007 WSOP Main Event. Am guesstimating they’ll probably be working down to the final nine by the end of this evening’s programming. Meanwhile, I’m still slowly moving through the unedited ESPN pay-per-view broadcast of the final table. Am about four hours into the show, I believe. They are down to six-handed, with Philip Hilm (9th), Lee Watkinson (8th), and Lee Childs (7th) having all been run over by the Yang Express.

After Hevad “Rain” Khan wins a small pot in Hand No. 33, he stands and does his silly dance which Ali Nejad describes as “a mix between the robot, some indigestion, and some All Spice.” Have had to endure quite a bit of Khan’s goofin’ the last couple of weeks on ESPN’s edited broadcast -- more, really, than I thought we would. For more on that topic, check out Tom Schneider’s provocative post over on Pokerati -- and the dozens of replies -- regarding how ESPN and other media outlets tend to highlight such applesauce.

So we have the weird, attention-craving type antics like Khan’s at one end of the etiquette spectrum. Then near the other end we have the subtle, good-natured table talk of Englishman Jon Kalmar. Have to say I am liking Kalmar more and more as I watch, both for his play and for his Steve Dannenman-like, happy-go-lucky demeanor. At Hand No. 35, Kalmar puts in a preflop raise of 1 million from the button and picks up the blinds and antes. As he drags the pot, we hear him go “bak-bak-bak” while grinning, playfully calling the rest of the table chicken.

Have discussed a couple of the hands thus far (Hand No. 9 & Hand No. 24). Here’s another one that probably will be passed over when ESPN finally gets to the final table in its edited coverage next week.

Blinds are 150,000/300,000 with a 40,000 ante. The action begins with Kalmar (in fourth place with 15.8 million) raising to 1 million from the hijack seat (left of the cutoff). All fold to Jerry Yang in the big blind. We see Kalmar smiling contently as Yang -- the massive chip leader with over 62 million -- very deliberately makes the call from the big blind. The pot is just under 2.4 million.

Kalmar is looking up at Yang when the flop comes . Yang sits motionless for eight seconds or so, then brings down his hand, lightly touching the table twice to indicate his check. Kalmar quickly nods and says he checks as well, his chin still resting on his hands. Phil Gordon says he’d liked to have seen Kalmar make a continuation bet rather than checking. The turn brings the , and the pair repeat the same routine, Yang again taking precisely eight seconds to bring down his hand, and Kalmar again instantly nodding and saying he checks. Gordon reminds us that not too long ago (it was Hand No. 30), we saw a similarly-played hand in which Kalmar checked down a middle pair versus Yang to claim a modest pot.

The river is the . This time Yang remains still for about twenty seconds, then announces a bet of 1.5 million. Kalmar calls Yang’s bet even before the chip leader has moved his chips forward. The total pot is just under 5.4 million.

Once both players’ chips have been gathered in the center, there’s an awkward pause. Yang appears unwilling to show his hand, but it is clear Kalmar isn’t going to show his until he does.

After a couple of non-verbal hand gestures from Kalmar go unanswered, the Englishman finally says “Can we see?” The dealer turns over Yang’s cards and Gordon tells us he had 9-8 (we don’t get to see them). Kalmar picks up his cards and in a mildly triumphant way slaps them over. A-K, we’re told. Nejad and Gordon congratulate Kalmar on the call, then speculate a bit about what might’ve happened had a jack rolled off on the end.

The hand demonstrates one way of handling Yang -- a way much less risky, and potentially very rewarding, than that pursued by Hilm, Watkinson, and Childs. Just before Hand No. 40, Gordon and Nejad interviewed Lee Watkinson and asked him about his decision (back in Hand No. 31) to push all-in from the big blind with and thus put Yang (who had raised from the SB) to the test. (Yang called with , and Watkinson was eliminated.)

“I felt like Jerry was just pushing things . . . [that] he felt like he was on a mission,” explained Watkinson. Gordon laughs as Watkinson continues. “I felt like there was a good chance he’d call me with a worse hand or maybe if he had garbage, throw it away.”

Not sure what Watkinson really hoped to achieve there. At the time Watkinson had 10 million in chips to Yang’s 45 million. If Yang does call him with a worse hand, only A-6 through A-2 really make it a profitable play for Watkinson. And if Yang throws it away, Watkinson increases his stack by 15% or so -- significant, but worth risking elimination?

Actually I do know what Watkinson wanted. He wasn’t thinking about the numbers. He just wanted to see what Yang would do. And as Kalmar demonstrates here, there were cheaper, less risky ways of going about that.

Taking Notice (UIGEA Regs Arrive)

The regs are here. Am wondering how many people will notice.

The Board of Governors of the Federal Reserve System, working together with other Dept. of Treasury offices and in consultation with the U.S. Attorney General, have finally released regulations concerning the prohibiting of funding unlawful internet gambling. The document, presented as a “Notice of Joint Proposed Rulemaking,” responds to the Unlawful Internet Gambling Enforcement Act’s directive for the Board to draft such regulations, albeit ten weeks or so after the date when they were supposed to have done so. (For those interested, you can read the full 52-page document here.)

Now what?

Officially, these here regs have been published to the Federal Registrar, with today marking the start of a so-called “commenting period” which extends until December 12, 2007. During this period, banks and other “financial transaction providers” will not be required to follow any of the procedures outlined in the regs to block transactions. Anyone can submit comments regarding the regulations to the Board of Governors of the Federal Reserve System and/or the Dept. of Treasury.

Once the commenting period concludes, there will be an additional period of reevaluation -- likely lasting another 180 days -- before the regulations are finalized. Only then will banks be required to follow the instructions as dictated by the regulations. Meaning we’re probably looking at early summer 2008 before any of our banks will stop taking checks from online poker sites, if then.

Folks are already starting to comment (unofficially) on the regs over at Two Plus Two. I’ve yet to try to tackle in earnest this here weighty pile o’ legalese, though I do notice a couple of interesting items there in the summary with which the document begins.

The summary states that the regulations “establish policies and procedures reasonably designed to identify and block or otherwise prevent or prohibit transactions in connection with unlawful Internet gambling.” It also states that those agencies who “believe it is not reasonably practical . . . to identify and block, or otherwise prevent or prohibit, unlawful Internet gambling transactions” would be exempt from having to enforce the law as stipulated by the regulations. This qualification actually appears in the UIGEA itself (in section §5364.b.3).

We have been hearing all along about the impracticality of banks searching through and identifying particular transactions as unlawful. It appears those who drafted these regulations are aware of such limitations and are acknowledging them here.

The summary also states that the “Notice” that follows “does not specify which gambling activities or transactions are legal or illegal because the Act itself defers to underlying State and Federal gambling laws in that regard and determinations under those laws may depend on the facts of specific activities or transactions (such as the location of the parties).”

I think this statement might be slightly misleading, if I’m reading it correctly. My understanding had been that the UIGEA does identify (albeit in a potentially ambiguous way) what is and what is not “unlawful” (in section §5362). However, the Act also appears to tell the feds to defer its authority in this regard to the district courts, states, and “Indian lands” (in section §5365, “Civil remedies”).

In other words, the authors of the regs don’t appear interested here to try to clarify anything with regard to the legality of, say, online poker. I’ve said before that I do think transactions related to online poker are in fact prohibited by the UIGEA, although I understand the perspective of those who want to interpret the Act differently.

Doesn’t really matter at the moment, though. Today’s issuing of the proposed regulations brings into focus what the real issue is going to be as we move forward -- not whether this or that form of online gambling is indeed “unlawful,” but whether the law as written can ever really be enforced in a way that will directly affect the activities of those of us who do engage in online gambling. As we all know, the UIGEA has already had considerable effect on online poker, and even if it is never enforced a single time, the Act may well further influence how we interact with one another in our little world of virtual chips, cards, and felt.

The appearance of the regs, though, does bring us one significant step closer to the actuality of enforcement.

And if that day comes, believe me . . . we’ll notice.

The Grifters

Was sitting at a LHE 1/2 table not too long ago where I witnessed a mildly interesting hand occur, followed by some slightly more interesting chat-box banter. The hand went like this: a player in EP open-raised and had just one caller. The flop came and the raiser bet and was called. The turn was the . Again, bet-call. The river was the and yet again we saw a bet and a call. The EP raiser showed for king-high. The calling station showed for a rivered gutshot.

There was a bit of generic whimpering from Mr. King-Queen (“did u even know u had it,” “idiot”). Within a few hands the river rat had already lost his booty (and then some) via similarly passive, low percentage plays. After a while, K-Q typed “like a sea gull eats up my seeds poops em out all over the table.”

The situation put me in mind of the opening scene of Jim Thompson’s 1963 hard-boiled novel The Grifters. The book begins with Roy Dillon pulling what should have been a fairly conventional hustle of a dim-witted soda jerk at an L.A. confectionary. I say should have been because as it turns out, the “large, dumpy-looking youth of perhaps nineteen or twenty” working behind the counter ends up giving Dillon a bit more trouble than he had anticipated.

Thompson describes the scam to us as “the twenties, one of the standard gimmicks of the short con grift.” Other gimmicks potentially land larger scores, but apparently “the twenties” is a safer way to go. Usually.

Having finished his limeade, Dillon goes to pay the kid whom he’s sized up as the underachieving son of the shop’s proprietor. “A package of those mints, too,” says Dillon. “Twenty cents,” the youth replies.

Dillon fumbles for a moment, then with an apology pulls a bill from his wallet. “Mind cashing a twenty?” The kid counts out his change and hands it to Dillon, who then animatedly claims he’s finally located deep inside his pocket two dimes. He hands the coins over, saying “Just give me back my twenty, will you?” The youth obliges.

Standing at the front of the soda shop idly looking at a magazine in the rack, Dillon is stunned when the clerk suddenly whacks him in the stomach with a baseball bat, yelling “Dirty crook!” A short time later, a woozy Dillon is described “seated in his car and re-examining the incident.”

“He could see no reason to fault himself, no flaw in his technique,” explains the narrator. “It was just bad luck. He’d simply caught a goof, and goofs couldn’t be figured.”

We’re constantly instructed “bad players cannot be bluffed” and the like. And we’ve all been there. Against the “goofs,” surprise bets don’t surprise. Spooky check-raises don’t spook. And bluffs aren’t read as strength. Or as bluffs. They simply aren’t read at all.

I have to assume that in the hand described above, Mr. King-Queen didn’t know he was dealing with a “goof” who’d call down with such a hand (even though he was ahead from start to finish). For K-Q to keep firing from out of position was certainly stubborn, but as his comments afterwards showed, he didn’t see any “reason to fault” his own play nor any “flaw in his technique.” He’d just saw himself as having unfortunately run into a “goof.”

One other point of comparison here, though. Something of which neither Roy Dillon nor Mr. King-Queen seem especially conscious.

Both are theives -- are grifters -- attempting to take something that never rightly belonged to them. While it is true that “goofs” can’t “be figured,” it is also true that when trying to steal something that isn’t yours, getting caught and punished should never be all that startling of an occurrence.

Can’t recommend The Grifters enough, by the way. Adapted into a slick film by Stephen Frears back in 1990, also worthwhile. Full of lessons for anyone out there trying to pick up a few pennies -- or twenties -- via the grift. (In other words, all of youse.)

Kings in Peril, a Limit Hold ’em puzzler (2 of 2)

As if to prove -- as we were talking about last post -- that it is indeed a Machiavellian world at the poker tables, let me share a little bit of chat from a pot limit Omaha session I played two days ago.

Had been playing with the same bunch for a while when a new guy sat down to my left. After a couple of rounds, new guy pipes up in the chat box:

greenhorn: can somebody tell me rules

Twenty or thirty seconds go by. Then, finally, someone offers to help out:

MockTurtle: dont steal , respect your wife and god
Dealer: greenhorn has 15 seconds left to act
MockTurtle: dont try to $&$! your neighboors wife

A minute or so, later:

DbtngThom: god is dead
MockTurtle: he asked for rules

Okay, back to the hand . . . .

To recap, after losing with pocket kings five times running in my usual LH 1/2 game (over the course of a couple of sessions), I found myself on the button having been dealt . A player two to my right -- PikeBishop -- open-raised, I three-bet, the blinds folded, and Pike called. Flop came and Pike check-raised my bet. I called. The turn came , and Pike checked.

Thanks for the comments, all. Most suggested checking behind here, although Spunksock surmised I could still be ahead (say, if Pike had or the like) and might consider making him pay to see the river.

I have to admit Pike’s preflop raise -- and, perhaps, my sad recent history with kings -- froze me up here. I mentioned I hadn’t played enough hands with Pike to have a good read of his preflop raising range. Assuming an average range, the only hands I could really beat anymore would be KQ, TT, 99, or perhaps some lower pair. Meanwhile there are a ton of hands he could have which have me cooked. I suppose he could have open-raised with suited connectors as well. But I didn’t have a bet in me there. As Machiavelli might say, I didn’t possess the necessary “wherewhithal” to exert true power.

The river was the , giving me the straight but completing a possible flush. Pike checked again. My instinct was to consider it needless to bet here, as I thought he’d only call (or raise) with something better. I see now I was dead wrong. If he had hit his flush (or had something even better), he wouldn’t have checked the river after witnessing my timidity at that turn card. In other words, his river check should have told me loud and clear I had the winner. (And that he’s probably calling me down, too, if he has any piece at all of the board.)

The authors of Small Stakes Hold ’em explain this concept in one of their hand quizzes in which a player with top pair -- but a scary board -- gets checked to on the river. They point out how “it is more likely that you are still ahead after your opponents check than it is before they check.”

So what did PikeBishop have? . He’d tried a risky blind-steal (with two players to act behind him) and ended up getting just a bit more involved than he probably liked.

Still, he should’ve lost one more big bet, had I read the situation correctly there on the end -- if I had demonstrated the what-do-I-think-he-thinks-I’m-thinking sort of skillful plotting (or “Virtue”) that often serves kings well in their efforts to combat wily Fortune.

At least I didn’t ask for rules at the table.

Kings in Peril, a Limit Hold ’em puzzler (1 of 2)

Near the conclusion of The Prince, Machiavelli’s early 16th-century manual of statecraft for would-be rulers, he explains how even though “Fortune is the arbiter of one-half of our actions,” we are still left “to direct the other half” according to our own skill (or “Virtue,” as he calls it).

“I compare her [Fortune] to one of those raging rivers,” says Machiavelli, “which when in flood overflows the plains, sweeping away trees and buildings, bearing away the soil from place to place, everything flies before it, all yield to its violence, without being able in any way to withstand it.” Even so, he continues, we aren’t helpless before Fortune, as we can always “make provision, both with defenses and barriers, in such a manner that, rising again, the waters may pass away by canal, and their force be neither so unrestrained nor so dangerous.”

Machiavelli advises those who would be kings to show some courage, some valor . . . and, above all, not to be passive and let Fortune knock ’em around. Because Fortune “shows her power where valor has not prepared to resist her, and thither she turns her forces where she knows that barriers and defenses have not been raised to constrain her.”

Not the only moment in The Prince that bears some relationship to poker, of course. Indeed, David Apostolico has written an entire book -- Machiavellian Poker Strategy: How to Play Like a Prince and Rule at the Poker Table -- that examines Machiavelli’s text for various poker-related wisdom.

We’re all well familiar with how both Fortune (or chance) and Virtue (or skill) combine to determine our fates at the tables. And how we simply must -- as Machiavelli advises -- acknowledge that Fortune has its effect and prepare accordingly by putting up the necessary bulwarks to lessen Fortune’s impact. We might not consider Fortune to be the arbiter of “one-half of our actions,” but she has a significant effect, no matter how great our Virtue.

I mentioned a couple of posts ago how I’d run into a mini-bad streak with pocket kings during a particular session of 1/2 LHE. Had ’em cracked three times in less than 100 hands, twice making sets along the way. During my next session, I was dealt KK two more times and again lost both hands. Cowboys goin’ down so fast you’d think we were in the middle of a Sam Peckinpah film or somethin’.

So after losing with pocket kings five straight times (in the space of less than 200 hands), I get ’em one more time. Thought I’d share the hand with you here as a sort of mini-limit Hold ’em puzzler. Tell me what you’d do.

I’m on the button and pick up . It folds around to the hijack seat (the player left of the cutoff) who raises. Let’s call him PikeBishop. I’d only played around 30 hands with PikeBishop to this point. He’d voluntarily put money in about a third of the hands and had raised preflop three or four times. The best hand I’d seen him showdown during that limited sample was KQ-suited.

The cutoff folds and I three-bet it. Both blinds get out and PikeBishop calls my bet. There is $7.50 in the pot.

The flop comes a tantalizing and PikeBishop checks. What are you thinking here?

What am I thinking? That I’ve lost with kings five times in a row? That Fortune is a raging river and I’m drowning . . . ?

I bet. Sure enough, PikeBishop check-raises me. I call. There’s $11.50 in the pot.

The turn card is the . (Shamus winces.) Pike checks again.

Now what? Any defenses or barriers left for me to put up to stave off Fortune here?

What do you do? Tell me and I’ll come back with the rest in the next post.