You call that a Bad Beat?

February 1, 2006:

If I have to listen to another Bad Beat Story, I’m going to stick my head in an automatic shuffler.

A “bad beat” is defined in www.cardplayer.com’s poker dictionary as: “an outcome wherein the player holding the hand with the greatest statistical likelihood to win the pot fails to win the pot. Simply put, if you’re got a couple of kings, and the chainsmoking cowboy across the felt is holding the four of spades and an uno card, and wins, it’s a bad beat. An addendum to the definition is that there’s no whining and moaning allowed if you didn’t pay dearly for the chance to get lucky.

When this misfortune befalls you, you can say that you’ve been “sucked out.” Although I’ve heard being sucked out in real life can actually be quite pleasureable, in poker, this is often an extremely unpleasant experience. Unfortunately, suck outs are a relatively common occurrence. Let’s say you have a pair of aces. Your chance of beating someone holding a pair of fives is 81%. Every now and then (I’m gonna guess, oh…about 19% of the time), you’re going to lose. Truth be told, 80% really isn’t that likely. I wouldn’t bet my life on 80%. I wouldn’t bet my mother’s life on 80%. I wouldn’t bet my cousin’s dentist’s life on 80%. But to some players, losing with any likelihood above 60% is proof that the Good Lord is taking time off from his interglobal duties to send them a personalized burning bag of doggie doo.

At every poker table at every casino in America, right now, a man plays who is unable to stop himself from regaling total strangers with this story of woe. This is called, quasi-affectionately, a Bad Beat Story. It usually starts with one of the following; a.) “you’ll never believe what this guy did to me the other day,” b.) a mocking “you think that was bad?” or, c.) a stealthy “how the cards treating you?” This final opener is promptly followed by the sad truth about just how rotten the cards are treating him. It happens thousands of times a day, all across America. Like any other apparent freak of nature, the incidents are discussed far more frequently than they actually occur. And it has to stop.

I can’t handle another Bad Beat Story. I’ve seen them all, and they’ve all happened to me. I’ve been three-outed, two-outed and one-outed. I’ve been sucked out, drawn on, out-flopped, turned and rivered. I’ve been the victim of stupidity and arrogance. I’ve lost to good luck charms and voodoo dolls. I’ve been sucked out by players who then bragged to friends about their skill. I’ve lost to dudes who didn’t know they had me beaten until I told them. So please, if you think I’ve got a Bad Beat Story I haven’t heard, think again.

One thing I can’t deny is a certain art to bitching, an untouchable je ne se quoi to creating the empathy, the misery, the Biblical nature of a real good Bad Beat Story. In the interests of both rewarding this “talent,” and removing offenders from my precious personal space, I’d like to propose an all-new event to poker rooms everywhere: The Bad Beat Story Heads Up Tournament (BBSHUT).

Here’s how it works: as they exit the casino, losers can enter the BBSHUT. In tournament style, competitors will battle one-on-one to see who can tell the best Bad Beat Story. They will be judged both on their temporary disgust with poker and their willingness to “quit forever if this doesn’t turn around soon.” We’re looking for vehemence and angst here. You cite mathematical data? That’s easy. I want to hear how that seven of hearts on the river felt like God raping your soul. Its going to take unprecedented enmity with the Maker to win this clash of the spite-ans.

Of course, this WhineFest has to be double elimination. Is there any doubt that in this battle of losers the most exciting action will take place in the losers bracket? After round one, the BBSHUT will take its losers bracket to the parking lot, where contestants can complain not only about their original misfortune, but also about the screw job they got in Round One. “The judge hated me,” they’ll cry. “I had the guy beat until his story went to the river, and he pulled crying out of nowhere.” Sucked out during a Bad Beat off. Now that’s unlucky.

But wait, you say. Who could possibly judge this Battle of the Ages? Doesn’t a contest so chock full of chutzpah, so ripe with emotion demand a judge worth of its vast and tortured scope of deep psychological animus?

Meet Leroy.

I met Leroy while sitting at a $ 3/6 Hold ‘em table at Trump Casino in Gary, Indiana. Leroy’s Bad Beat Story is less a whiny rant and more a World View.

Leroy grabbed a seat at my table while waiting for a seat in his game of choice, $1/5 Stud. Even if you’ve seen every poker episode on television in the last year, you might not know what Stud is. In seven-card stud, like Hold ‘em, players use seven cards to make a hand; however, in Stud, players receive their cards individually, and one at a time. The average age of your typical 7-card Stud player*, according to Bluff Magazine, is 143 years old. Stud is the stay-at-home Dad driving 55 in the carpool lane while Hold ‘Em is the plastic surgeon zooming by in the corvette. But things might be different if players taking a Hold ‘em seat met Leroy before anteing up.

Leroy, a three-hundred pound caramel skinned wonder to behold, has a philosophy. That philosophy is that Hold ‘Em is slightly more Satanic than Lucifer’s reproductive region. According to Leroy, Hold ‘Em features more lucky suckouts, and unskilled play rewarded by the deck, than any other form of poker. Immediately after sitting down, he informs the entire table of this, and the additional fact that he will get unlucky very soon. Sure enough, a quiet Chinese player makes a flush on the river to beat Leroy’s top two pair. Leroy then launches in to the following dissertation:

This game makes me mad as hell. Yep. Me too sometimes. People get so lucky against me all the time. Check. Been there. This game just makes me more mad than I’ve ever been in my entire life. Hmm. Yes. Know the feeling, Leroy.

And I know all about angry. When I was over there in Vietnam, I saw one of my buddies get his arm blown off, I was just like GRRR, so I busted out my AK-47, just started shooting everything in sight. Started killing women, children, everything. Just blowing people’s heads off. I ain’t never seen nobody run that fast in my whole life. I thought I was mad then. But this Hold’em, this game makes me ANGRY.

Uh, Leroy. You had me at Hello. You lost me when you hung that quick right on to War Atrocities.
So, friends. We’ve got our theme, we’ve got our judge. If you think you’ve got the groan and moan it takes to tell the Best Bad Beat Story, head to your local casino and get unlucky. The Bad Beat Story Heads Up Tournament. Coming soon to a parking lot near you.