Betting Poker Strategy

A Welcome Distortion by Steve Farhood

I presume you're like me. You watch the World Poker Tour to see what Shana Hiatt is wearing. Okay, sometimes you stick around to find out who wins the tournament. Only one problem, the show airs on Travel Channel from 9 to 11 p.m. When, at 10:55 p.m., Gus Hansen has 80 percent of the chips and John Juanda calls time to speed dial Dr. Kevorkian, you know there isn't going to be a miraculous comeback. Coming down the stretch, there's more drama on that documentary about your favorite vegetable root.

TV poker addicts already classify Henry Orenstein with Bill Gates and Steve Jobs among the greatest technological minds of our time. Orenstein is the guy who invented the tiny camera that allows viewers to see a player's hole cards. Pre-Orenstein, poker was about as TV-friendly as garbage disposal. But the real geniuses are the editors at ESPN, Travel Channel, and the other networks that air tournaments. There's nothing they can do to mask that Hansen-Juanda situation, but they've eliminated the one-bet-fold-fold-fold-fold-fold stealing of blinds, countless insignificant hands, and the exit of hundreds, if not thousands, of nameless, faceless also-rans.

And we're spared from having to watch the bathroom breaks.

I think it was Phil Hellmuth's grandmother who first said, "If poker isn't occasionally boring, you're not playing it right." For the sake of ratings, TV has eliminated the boredom and distorted the game. But in the big picture, that's a good thing.

Knowing no better, there are millions of Americans who think No-Limit Hold'em is what they see on TV. Poker tournaments qualify as reality TV because like so many other shows of the genre, they have little to do with reality.

As a boxing analyst for Showtime, I travel quite a bit. More often than not, I find myself in casino-hotels. The countless hours of televised poker have intrigued a colleague of mine, who is not a player. En route to a casino town in Mississippi, he asked me if I'd show him the poker room. He wanted to wet his wallet by playing the room's lowest-stakes game. If necessary, he was prepared to lose $50 or $60 for the experience.

Instantly intimidated by the speed of the game, he never even sat down. From his perspective, bets were called or raised in an instant. There was no time or place for a beginner to ask, "Which is the dollar chip again? The black one or the red one?" There were no TV commercials, no extended reaction shots, and no commentators suggesting the right move. And most of the hands lasted only a few seconds. On TV, there are only 15 or 20 hands down on a two-hour broadcast.

"Maybe it's easier to learn online," I suggested as my colleague headed for the comfort and familiarity of the blackjack tables.

Editors be damned: On July 2005 Fox Sports aired the final table of the Full Tilt Poker championship at the Wynn Las Vegas. Six players, four hours, LIVE. What a concept!

While hardcore players surely appreciated the subtle maneuverings of runner-up Ted Forrest (checking with aces full!) and the patience and opportunism of tourney winner Kristy Gazes, the average viewer had to be reaching for the remote before the first commercial break. For starters, announcers Barry Tompkins and Howard Lederer were situated 500 yards from the game. Repeatedly struggling to identity the size of the bets, they might as well have been in Jakarta. The graphics were consistently a beat behind the action. At one point, we saw an extended close-up of a stack of chips because Clonie Gowen hadn't returned from the potty. Gazes frequently checked her watch.

And then there was the unashamed yawning of Daniel Negreanu.

He was speaking for a nation.