POCKET ACES

Saturday, April 15, 2000
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Pocket Aces

How I Learned to Bluff...
Poor Eyesight Equals Instant Aggression

By Maryann Guberman

For the first year or so of my public poker play, I never bluffed. I was aware that this form of "lying" should be an important part of my game, but having been raised to tell the truth for fear of burning in hell for eternity, I never grasped the subject or understood all its implications, until....

The game was hold'em in a tournament hosted by the legendary poker player Amarillo Slim.

I was using the tournament format to polish my skills without risking much money. As had happened many times in previous attempts, I made it to the final table ­ short of chips. I knew the reason for my consistently small stacks was directly related to conservative play ­ an ailment I'd have to remedy sooner or later ­ but because of my caution, I often progressed into the money. The two small tourneys I'd won to date had been the result of phenomenal luck. A combination of good cards and a small field rewarded me with first prize. But I was smart enough to know the outcome was not a result of stellar play.

In this tournament of six tables (60 entries), I was now part of a field of four, which guaranteed me fourth-place money.

I glanced to my right quickly to see if I could read anything on a player's face when, of all things bad that could happen, my right contact lens slipped off my eyeball. There was too much to concentrate on, so I tried to ignore the fact that the world had suddenly become not only fuzzy but also duplicated.

I was dealt an ace-four of diamonds (or so I thought) and the flop came two (diamonds) five (diamonds) six (clubs). I had to close my "bad eye" to get a clear view of the flop.

Wow! I was working on a straight and a straight flush!

The player I was trying to look at raised the big blind and with aplomb, I reraised. The third player folded and the fourth called, as did the raiser.

The turn brought a black face card and representing something I couldn't read, the same player bet. Of course, I raised, hoping for the three of diamonds or any diamond at best. The player who initially raised bet, and as cool as a spring breeze, I raised. The two remaining players folded and the bettor raised me. My reaction? I reraised. He called.

When the river card appeared, I tried not to but I jumped a little. Maybe the bettor caught it, maybe not but when he checked and said, "What, you got a straight flush on the river?" I bet.

He thought for a long time. I was hoping he'd raise so I could reraise, but eventually, he folded. "I want you to know I had trips," he said as his hand went into the much.

I was going to toss my cards away but Slim, who was watching the play unfold, asked to see what I had. Without emotion, I turned over the cards, only to discover the four in my hand was and a heart, not a diamond.

Slim let out a whoop, lifted his hat, and said, "Remind me not to play poker with you! What a bluff!"

Of course, I knew he was only kidding, but I was flabbergasted, stunned, incredulous. I hadn't been bluffing at all. I sincerely thought I had the best potential going in. And I would have won the pot against the raiser because I did end up with a straight, but clearly, I learned a lesson. If you act as if you think you have the best hand, somebody's liable to believe you.

I didn't win the tournament. Flush with the confidence that comes with revelation, and still half blind, I played a hand that should have been folded and lost a few of those chips back. I did, however, manage to hang on for second place. More importantly, I realized the strength of bluffing. No matter how much I'd read about the subject and how confident I was that I understood the concepts, bluffing did not come easily to me. In fact, it didn't come at all until that singular event.

Today, applying bluffs is a big part of my playing repertoire, even in the smaller limit games where many writers will caution against using the tactic.

You should bluff occasionally because it confuses your opponents. It might make them think you're downright ignorant ("How could you play a hand like that when...?"). Or, it could lure them into thinking you are flat-out stupid ("I can't believe you called my raise with that hand!").

Surprisingly, even when players understand bluffing and catch you at it, they often don't credit you with doing anything but trying to pull a stunt.

If you bluff and lose a small amount of money, you want to show your opponent(s) that you were bluffing, setting the stage to confuse them or think of you as a poor player. If you bluff and win, you sometimes want to show off, just to upset your opponents. In the future, they might try to extract revenge; they might go on tilt. In either case, you're set to take advantage of them by not bluffing for a while.

The one mistake you don't want to make while bluffing is going too far. Unless the pot odds dictate that you play, if the price of bluffing becomes too expensive, don't hesitate to throw your cards away. Nobody wants to spend too much on advertising.

There's an art to bluffing, but it's an art that can be learned. Eventually, it comes easily, so practice it. Use a computer or deal hands to yourself and think about how the various ways you might approach a bluff. Put it to the test in small limit games if you can and see what happens.

A good bluff can mean the difference between a winning and losing session.

There's one important factor to think about and remember: You too can get caught in another player's bluff. But by learning as much as you can about bluffs, you can also prevent them ­ unless, of course, you're operating with impaired eyes.