“Is poker a game of skill or gambling? Bombay High Court asks Maharashtra govt” read a notification from Bar and Bench. From my own experience, I’ve seen this question being answered differently, by the same person, depending on when it is asked. I remember myself being a staunch advocate of poker being a skill game, oft heard quoting Matt Damon from Rounders, “Why do you think the same five guys make it to the final table of the World Series of Poker EVERY YEAR? What, are they the luckiest guys in Las Vegas? It’s a skill game Jo.”
Yet, one can’t help but curse their luck when they hit trip aces on the flop, only to find themselves beaten by a runner runner straight by the river. That’s not the lone bad experience I’ve had with the rockets. Let me describe to you one of the most memorable hands I’ve played. I remember on Diwali night – where the stakes were a treat at Alankrita for the winner instead of the regular treat at Café Continental – the flop read Ace, Six, Three, all of different Suits. I had hit trip aces again. Not wanting to scare off other players, I raised small. Two of the eight players on the table called.
The turn card was the six of clubs, pairing the board. That gave me a boat- the best possible one. Aces full of sixes. Once again, I raised small- still not wanting to scare off any potential action, yet wanting to make the players pay to draw. The player immediately after me folded, but the player across me was adamant and called. “What could he possibly have?” I thought to myself. “How much can I squeeze out of him on this hand?”
The river was a five of clubs. “What a great card for me!” I thought. The backdoor flush draw made it, the gutshot straight draw made it. Great for me. I had placed my opponent on one of these exact hands- a straight draw, a strong flush draw (with a King or Queen), maybe even a Six Three, giving him a smaller boat than mine. I wanted to value bet and was trying to figure out the maximum amount he’d call. I was worried that my bet would be too big and he’d pack. How best to trap him? Then it hit me- if I’ve read him correctly, and if he’s stayed this long, I’m sure he must have something good. At least a set of sixes. I checked to the player across me. By now, the pot had a little under 200 in it. He bet the pot.
Trust me when I tell you- it was so so hard to control my excitement. We each started with 500 chips (in terms of value) and my stack was a little over 400 at this point. Seeing 380 in that pot felt thrilling. “But could I get more out of this hand?” I thought. I wanted him to think that I was pondering a call, but all I was really thinking about was Alankrita and the pink sauce lasagna I’d be treated to as my winnings. “All in” I announced, internally praying that he’d call.
My prayers were answered- snap came the call. And to my horror, as fate would have it, with it came the sight of pocket sixes!!
Pocket fkin sixes. I was stunned. In all my joy at having the best boat, I forgot that it was only the second nuts that I was holding. The hunter had become the hunted, the trapper had been trapped. And that was it. That was how my hopes of a nice pink sauce lasagna went down the drain.
Can you imagine that? Losing to quad sixes. What were the odds? The player across me held the only possible hand that could beat me. Frustrating. Absolutely frustrating. Can you really blame me for throwing out the notion of poker being a skill game at this moment?
Disclaimer: This account is not necessarily based on an accurate recounting of events. For all intents and purposes, it is to be read as purely fictitious.