WHEN PROBITY BECOMES A VICE

                                           

 

             Picture this: George Washington’s mother takes her son aside shortly after he confessed to his father that it was he who chopped down the cherry tree.

 

            “Very good, young man,” she says. "Probity is a wonderful thing. Just don’t let it become a vice.”

 

            “What,” you ask? How can probity become a vice?  I’ll tell you how, because I can think of no better way of defining an incident that occurred yesterday at a $2-$5 No Limit Texas Hold ‘Em game.  Sitting with wired kings, it was my turn to bet when a young fellow suddenly stopped the action.

 

            “Hold on," he said. "I’m not sure, I could be wrong, but I think I saw a flashed card.” 

 

            “Come again,” said the dealer.

 

            “I caught a glimpse of the first card you dealt to the lady.  At least I think I did.  I’m not 100% certain.  Still, I’d like everyone here to know I am honest.”

 

            Oh, man, don’t try that nonsense on me.  You might have seen it, then again you might not have. You’re not sure, you couldn’t quite make it out, but there was this flashed card and you kind of perceived something, and . . . hey, look here, everybody, am I not one hell of a person?  Because all you are doing is vaunting yourself!  What else do you think this proclamation of honesty is?  Here, during a total non-incident, you decide to come out crying STOP EVERYTHING when, as it turned out, you had no intention of following the hand in the first place.  Reminds me of the teacher’s pet who’s got to attract attention to himself, and what better way than appearing honest at the same time, sort of like killing two birds with one stone, n’est-ce pas?

 

            No fooling, the fellow refused to stop.  He simply had to repeat how moral he was even though he remained uncertain whether or not he had seen a card.  Lord protect me from people who go out of their way to assert their honesty, I can take care of the dishonest ones by myself.  Worse still, this went on for over a minute.  Finally the dealer called a floor director over.  Happily, since the gentleman on my immediate right had followed the $5 big blind it was decided to play the hand out irrespective of the young voyeur’s confusion. 

 

            By now, with the rhythm of the hand completely broken, I figured my best move was to follow.   I hate to follow with wired kings.  It’s a bloody trap.  What do you do if an ace shows up?  Suppose someone limps in with a nine and a six and those two cards appear on the flop? 

 

             As indicated, Mr. Probity mucked his hand when the bet came to him.  On his left, a bearded young man (75% to 90% of today’s players seem to be males under thirty) raised to $40.  The lady whose card was supposedly exposed called, as did the gentleman on my right.  That was enough for me.   Going all-in, I pushed $350 into the pot.  That scared everybody out except the initial raiser who only had $30 remaining.  A pair of treys and a five were flopped, followed by a nine on the turn and a ten on the river. Examining my kings, the bearded youngster threw his cards into the muck.

 

            “It’s a good thing you went all-in,” said a player a couple of seats to my left.  “I would have called forty dollars with my suited ace-three.”

 

             That’s the trouble with probity.  Too much of it can have the opposite effect to what one desires.  I recall an afternoon in Paris when the extremely literal-minded head of our Texas Hold ‘Em game was making the final accounts of the day.  Our biggest sucker, a wealthy banker announced his losses at 30,050 francs ($6,010).  After writing a check for 30,000 francs, he was asked by our scrupulous director for the missing ten bucks.

             “Do you really want them?” said the banker.  “Why not ask for my underpants too?  Well, here they are! The fifty francs, I mean.  But don’t expect me to play here again.”