Go Wild!
August 15, 2008
I’ve been around games where the mere metion of a wild card would cause the temperature in the room to drop 20 degrees and bring out scowls on faces that would frighten a war veteran.
Surely there’s nothing so hateful about a wild card? Those cute little deuces…those sympathetically disabled one-eyed jacks…hell even the King is taking care of the hard part and getting suicidal so you won’t have to murder him…so what’s not to love?
Personally, I like wild cards. I’ve never flip-flopped, and I couldn’t imagine a Saturday night home page without them. They just make the games too damn entertaining.
And they provide much needed variety to the rotation that would become painfully stale if revolved solely around Hold ‘Em tournaments and seven-card stud. As much as I love those two games, and as much as they continue to rule as the “kings” of the poker world in my book, they’re just not enough to sustain my interest throughout a 5-6 hour session…especially in games that don’t include a few rounds of Hearts (which, sadly, is most of them).
Think about it, without wild cards, here’s what you have.
Baseball (all versions): 3’s and 7’s are ….3’s and 7’s. So basically you’re left with seven-card stud with the ability to buy an extra card if you get a 4 face up. Yawn.
Follow the Queen: Follow her where? To the next regular card. This game ceases to exist anymore.
King Sh—y: One of my favorite games also becomes irrelevant. The whole game is based around wild card decision making…otherwise it’s just another name for 5-card draw.
The Cross: Now, this game still would exist, and it would still be interesting, but there’d be a much smaller payoff to staying in until the final, middle card is turned up if that card isn’t wild….because most of the time you’re sitting, hoping to double that up to give you a leg up in your hidden hand against the competition. How ya gonna take that away from me, bro?
That’s just a small sampling…and really the one that hurts the most is baseball, because with baseball comes midnight baseball, double-hand baseball, etc… I can’t remember the last time I played an ante game and baseball wasn’t called at one time or another.
However, to be fair, there still would be a good sampling of non wild-card games to choose from…although depending on how much of a purist you are, these “wildish” games might be frowned upon all the same.
Moose: Lots of buying and swapping, and waiting for the final card to determine which was the split pot goes, but no traditional wild cards in anyone’s hand. This game does, however, get about as close as possible without actually declaring a wild.
Chicago: Good, clean Chicago. High hand takes half, highest spade in the hole takes the other half. I’d probably rely on this one and Moose for 75% of my non hold ‘em/stud action in Saturday night games if wild cards were abolished nationwide tomorrow.
Continents: No wilds, no money pots? Not so fast. Continents can and probably will still reign supreme as the master of all pot-building games.
Pass the trash: And the unique games stay in the mix, as well. Pass the trash makes the wild-card cut, and it doesn’t even have to ride the bus.
Guts: Legendary game, infinite variations, none (that I know of) involve wild cards. Lots of hand dropping, but no wild cards.
So there you have it…and you’re probably saying I didn’t spend any time actually debating whether wild cards were good. And you’d be right. I make no apologies for being firmly in the pro-wild card camp. And maybe I will (in an as unbiased manner as possible) pick up a real debate on the merits of wild cards vs. the detriments in a future article, but for now consider this my love letter to those little friends that can turn a hand of 10 high into a royal flush.
Now if I can just keep that one king from stabbing himself in the head….
Is “Stud” the stud of all poker games?
August 10, 2008
“THE” Casino
August 3, 2008
In a recent article, I talked all about feeling cool at the card table.
And getting that one right hand, the one where you can put an arrogant player in his place where he belongs, is right up there with feeling as cool as can be.
But I got another one for you that stands in a class all its own.
Seeing, walking into and playing poker in Binion’s Horseshoe Casino in downtown Vegas off Fremont Street.
I’ve had the opportunity to see Binion’s twice (although I’ve been to Vegas 4 times in my life now), and actually sat down to play only once.
And it’s now been a good nine years since I’ve been to the place, so I am going off some rather old memories, but most of what I experienced remains pretty vivid.
From the outside, the place really doesn’t look like much. I remember fewer lights and fanfare than other hotels, even the “old school” ones holding down Fremont Street during the day.
Much different from The Strip, Fremont Street (at least nine years ago) still offered you casinos you could walk into and find $2 Blackjack right near the front. The carpets are a little dirtier, the air is a little smokier…but for that taste of the gritty Vegas so many tourists don’t get to see (and don’t want to see), there’s no better place than downtown.
On a quick side note, if you do ever make it downtown, I can’t recommend Hugo’s Cellar highly enough. One hell of a steak. Of course, the last time I was in Vegas a couple years ago, I couldn’t find the place anymore. So either I didn’t remember where the hell it was (in a basement somewhere, as you may have guessed), or it’s no longer there. Not a huge deal, as I’m sure it’s not hard to find a good steak joint in Vegas.
So, moving on. Got my picture taken outside…just to have that “I was at Binions” moment captured on film forever.
I certainly don’t claim to be a great, great poker player. But I love the game and I love learning about the history. And man is this place ever chalk full of poker history.
Once inside, I remember vague images of the place looking like a 1970’s hotel. And not the nice lobby part, but the barren hallways between convention rooms. Different shades of burgundy littered the landscape. No fancy lights coming up from underneath the bar, no dancing girls, just people getting down to business.
On the walls in the poker room, you see oak (some kind of wood anyway) framed pictures of old and new poker greats. The Hollywood Walk of Fame for the poker greats if you will. I spent nearly an hour looking over them all, studying each face. I almost felt like I would’ve been in a museum had there been more-detailed write-ups on each champion’s history.
Well, after taking the atmosphere in, I did finally pull out about $50 and found a table of $1-$5 seven-card stud, which is the only poker game I’ve ever played in a casino believe it or not.
All I remember is trying to bluff a hand with a pair of tens, and eventually losing to the gentlemen to my right. Out the cash, I nodded silently and took my leave.
Can’t remember much more about the cards. To be honest, I was too involved in enjoying the experience to really care about winning or losing. Not the perfect recipe for winning poker, I know, but I couldn’t help it.
Being there, though? And talking about it again now? That I will never forget.
All these characters
July 27, 2008
It could be you didn’t start playing until after college, or during college in a fraternity…for me, though, it was junior year in high school that really set me on the path to a having a regular clan of poker dogs. We’d rotate playing at parents’ houses (those who would let us play), sometimes having to quit way earlier than would even be thinkable by today’s standards (12:30 a.m. - are you serious? The sun just went down a few hours ago!)
High school’s funny, too, because you don’t have very much money to play with, but you also don’t have many financial obligations, either. All I had to worry about was paying for gas (which was about $1.05 a gallon at the time, if that), and coming up with enough for a McDonald’s extra-value meal each day for lunch. I know, I’m sure that’ll come back to bite me at some point, but I’ve been off the junk for years I tell ya (that’s a lie.)
Even so, we’d only play for quarters, but the types of games we were playing, many of which I’ve detailed in other articles, were invented for the sole purpose of beefing up huge pots. So a night of dimes and quarters could easily land you $80-$100 in the hole if you weren’t careful.
And a couple of us regularly weren’t careful. Which brings me around to my character study of the “stereotypes” of my first group of poker buddies. Read along and see which ones you’ve got in your own group…I’m guessing all of them.
The loser: Can also be known as “the sucker,” but the terms don’t go hand-in-hand. Kinda like all squares are rectangles but not all rectangles are squares - well all suckers are losers, but not all losers are suckers. This loser was just a loser, which I guess is more of a compliment than an insult. Anyway, he couldn’t buy a hand. He didn’t bluff but once a year, either, which didn’t help his cause (although to be fair we did play with strict betting limits, so bluffing wouldn’t help as much as a no-limit situation - but it still had its purpose). I really don’t know how else to explain it other than he just couldn’t get the cards. He knew how to play the games and was reasonably intelligent, he just kept getting screwed the the odds. Go figure. Eventually, in later, crazier years, he thought things like the color of the deck or which seat he was in were having a negative effect on his situation.
They weren’t. He was just a loser.
The oblivious man: Has no idea he’s a tool, but everyone else around the table knows it. So why is he always invited? Two reasons - he’s usually good for money, and sometimes we just need the warm body at the table. So these guys worm their way into games, thinking they’re your friend, inviting you to non-poker events like birthday parties and the like, and you just look at each other in disbelief that someone can be so - oblivious. I could go on for pages and pages about this guy, but if I get started I’ll drive myself crazy and have horrible flashbacks, so I’m moving on.
The Outlander: This guy isn’t a regular, but he overheard someone talking about the game, and hey, just so happens to know how to play poker also! So someone feels obligated to ask him to join in one week, and that’s how he finds a spot at your green-felt battleground on Saturday night. And, in my experience, the Outlander always has a damn chip on his shoulder - like he’s gonna hustle all us regulars. Most of the time they lose or break even, if only because we all know each other’s games and he’s coming in blind. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes it’s fun to have new blood at the table, and the better they are the more fun the games are…but they’re still Outlanders.
The comic relief: He plays, he wins a little, he loses a little, he’s there mostly for the laughs, though. And it’s not so much how he plays that’s hilarious, it’s his general comments and demeanor. Like, I don’t know, showing up one night in a big purple raincoat, or having to write out little IOU notes when he runs out of money (we didn’t have chips back then, only quarters and dimes).
The apartment: This guy is a regular, but it’s more because you know he’s got a place that isn’t regulated by parents. Which means as long as your parents (remember, this was back in high school) will let you stay out until whenever, it’s time to load up on the Taco Bell and Mountain Dew and get to it. Funny, in our circle, the apartment was also the comic relief.
The challenger: There’s usually at least 2 people at the table that are really good, and that beneath the jokes and the steotyping, take the game seriously. I like to think I’m one of them. The other one at our table was a great challenge, very good at math and calculating, but just unpredictable enough to throw you when trying to find a pattern in his gameplay. I miss playing against him. There are always other challengers, but like a true love, it’s the first one you remember forever.
And I’ll close with one of the great quotes from “Rounders,” which seems relevant here. “If you can’t spot the sucker after 30 minutes at the table….you are the sucker.”
Feelin’ cool at the card table
July 20, 2008
What does it take for you to feel cool at the card table? Not shivering cool, you can crack a window in the winter for that. Or hold up a beer that’s been in the freezer to your face for a few seconds. No, I mean, slick…happening…”the man.”
