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Upright, Even When the Chips Are Down

By James McManus
New York Times
August 13, 2005

Despite the fact that bluffing is very much like lying, there is a natural honesty to poker - something along the lines of honor among thieves - as well as a democratic fairness. All players remaining in the hand make equal contributions to the pot. Each betting decision is made freely and openly, and in turn. Except for their hole cards, all players have the same information. Noble birth, Ivy League education or a 6-foot-10-inch athlete's body confers no advantage. Misrepresenting the strength of your hand with a bluff is well within the letter and spirit of poker law.

In her 2003 memoir, "Poker Face," the poet Katy Lederer compares the ruthlessly analytical minds of her famous poker-playing siblings, Howard Lederer and Annie Duke, to her own way of thinking. "I was able to 'read' people, but it proved problematic," she writes. "I would sit at my table, look around at my opponents, and try my best to assess them by their postures and expressions, but it would be strangely painful. Or, not painful. It would make me feel dirty. We would sit there, growing filthy together, handling our cards and the dirty plastic chips, trying not to bite our nails for fear of what had lodged itself beneath them."

Poker's "dirty" intimacy and fiduciary hazards aren't for everyone, certainly. Yet its grittiness and peril might help to explain why its outlaw cachet continues to linger, even when today's game is played mostly in state-sanctioned card rooms by well-scrubbed folks sipping mineral water. Crooked Nose McCall gunning down Wild Bill Hickok from behind? An ornery Marlboro Man raising you the ranch from behind mirrored shades? Mirrored shades maybe, but smoking is banned these days in virtually every card room and all major tournaments. So is loutish behavior.

The game's image has also improved because of players like Barry Greenstein, who with good reason is called the Robin Hood of Poker: he donates millions of dollars in tournament prize money to children's charities. He has also just published "Ace on the River: An Advanced Poker Guide."

In the chapter called "How to Behave in the Poker Society," he wonders to what extent character is exposed at the table. "Many players who act appropriately in most social situations behave badly when they are losing," he writes. "Maybe we don't see a person's true character at the poker table, but rather, we see him at his worst." Other people would argue that it's when the chips are down that character is most clearly revealed.

Greenstein admits that at least one ulterior motive for decent behavior is to keep the game "good" - that is, profitable. "A player who wins the pot should let his opponent win the argument," he suggests. "It is bad business to destroy people," this even though "crybabies deserve something to cry about." He goes on to annotate 25 traits of successful players, including being insensitive, manipulative and greedy. Yet it is much more important, in Greenstein's opinion, to be trustworthy, intelligent, honest (with yourself) and psychologically tough. His oversize paperback has hundreds of color photographs of card rooms, casinos and high-stakes players in action, all printed on expensive glossy paper, which gives it the look and feel of an art book - one that happens to dispense wisdom that could help you win large sums of money. Few people have had more success playing poker in the last 35 years, and Greenstein is known for the precision of his ideas on poker and other subjects, so it's not surprising that his book is tactically instructive.

More surprising, perhaps, are the illuminating chapters on brain chemistry, chaos theory, integrity, the hazards of sports betting and how playing poker affects your family and sexuality, and vice versa. "Casinos hire good-looking employees to attract and distract customers," he writes, tongue apparently not in cheek. "If you are sexually frustrated, you may have trouble concentrating on poker." Even winning can lead to problems, because "chips of large denomination can have an aphrodisiac effect." In what sense is this not a good thing? "Becoming a sugar daddy can have a devastating effect on one's gambling bankroll." Better to contribute some of your profits to charity.

The most enlightening passage for a non-sugar daddy like me comes right up front in the dedication, which goes to "the children of gamblers": "They were told everything was done so they could have toys and clothes and a nice place to live, but all they wanted was a little more of their parent's time. I apologize to my children," Greenstein writes before listing their names, "for when I have failed as a parent."