Bad Beats

Barry Shulman is on vacation this month, which means he won't be playing in my poker game for a while. That sad fact reminded me of some of the other things that tend to annoy me in a poker game. You probably can relate to a few of them.

Now, we all know that bad-beat stories are the locusts of the poker world, but it seems that there are some times when people really ought to know better. When a player approaches a friend who's in another game to relate how his top set just got cracked by a runner-runner straight, he should survey the situation before bemoaning his luck. If his buddy happens to be sitting there with one measly stack of chips in front of him while the other players in the game are peering over multiple racks, he should know that now may not be the best time to gain sympathy. Actually, it's probably a good time to reroute (as we Omaha players like to do from time to time), and approach one of the big stacks with his tale.

One of my favorite observations of a horribly timed bad-beat story occurred at Binion's Horseshoe during the World Series of Poker a few years back. A player in my side game had just lost a large pot on the river, and he started silently boiling in his seat. A few minutes later, he couldn't take it anymore and needed to tell someone about it. Looking around the room, he finally found someone who was sure to provide a receptive shoulder to cry upon. So, he walked over to where the final table for that day was being played, summoned one of the final four players in the $2,500 Omaha eight-or-better event away from the table, and proceeded to tell his story.

Almost as bad as bad-beat stories are those times when I've just lost a monster pot to the guy sitting next to me. As he's raking in the chips, he turns to me and says something like:

A. "Can you believe I finally won a hand?"

B. "Wow, that was a huge pot!"

C. "It's about time I got lucky!"

D. "You should've bet that hand on the river. I couldn't call."

Thanks, buddy, I'm happy for you.

Oh, and here's one more thing that takes place at an alarmingly high rate. Living in Las Vegas, I've made friends with lots of people who come to town once or twice a year. Many of them will approach and say hi to me if they see me in the poker room. It is almost uncanny that this occurs immediately after I've lost the biggest pot of the day. As the chips are being pushed, I can generally count on a tap on the shoulder, followed by an enthusiastic, "Hello." Does this happen to you?