MIAMIS VICE

Measuring Pain By The Degree

By Miami John Cernuto

WE’VE ALL HAD TO ENDURE THE painful experience of watching the dealer reveal the final five cards of our tournament too many times. The anxiety builds up to frantic proportions as the flop is laid down, little voices going off in our head saying such things as “no clubs” or “no ace.” Then we await the turn, which can change our fate in an instant. Then comes the agony of the river, where we either sink or swim.
The experience of watching those cards come out is where we form our love/hate relationship with the game. We call it “brutal” or “unbelievable” when we lose, and we jump and yell “I love this game!” when we win. If the Richter Scale could be internalized in our bodies, I am sure that moment would register a 10.

This experience has taken on many names, such as “sweating your cards,” “your tournament life on the line,” or lately, the more commercial “your Degree all-in moment.” I personally experienced this Degree all-in moment on national TV during the Day Two WSOP Main Event episode on ESPN this year—and I was sent home. When the cards don’t cooperate, sometime it feels like in the movie Alien when that incubating creature bursts out of the poor guy’s stomach. Experiencing pain like that can not be healthy, but this is the profession that we have chosen.

We all handle our emotions differently. I chose to end my Degree all-in moment with a smile and a quiet gracious exit from the table, but it’s taken years of frustrating finishes and meditation to perfect that kind of a departure. As I survived the flop and the turn, my opponent needed “a queen and a queen only,” as Norman Chad so eloquently put it. And sure enough, the river produced the queen of clubs and my 2007 Main Event was history. It is that moment that inspired my topic for this month’s edition of Miami John’s Top 10 list: the top 10 ways to sweat in your “Degree all-in moment.”

I will have to admit that this was an easy article to write. With all of the characters and antics we have watched on TV over the last five years, I have an abundance of material to choose from. I have everything from the Erik Seidel smile as he quietly leaves the stage to that Swedish kid Mattias Andersson screaming at the top of his lungs. (Who knows, maybe all that vibration can change a heart to a diamond or a deuce to an ace.) I have a somewhat subdued Daniel Negreanu cracking jokes while he is leaving, and I have Phil Hellmuth ranting about luck and how badly his opponent played his hand.

And then there’s UMMM-BURR-TOE. Humberto Brenes was always a nice guy who used to be quiet, respectful of others, and discreet when he exited a tournament. Since TV slapped the cards on the cameras, he now yells his name (requiring capital letters in print, as seen above) and brings out his toy chip-eating shark. It even has a light now! What will it do next year, shoot fireworks out of its fins?

One night I was watching poker on TV and there was a very loud and annoying player on the show. It actually gave me a headache to listen to him. So I turned off the set and timed turning it back on with when I thought he might be eliminated. I was successful; he was gone. But unfortunately for me, the TV producers replayed his exit just for the people who might have missed it. Maybe this is what TV programmers like about poker. Maybe the Mattias Anderssons, the Hellmuths, and the Humbertos are the real reason why everyone tunes in.
(Or maybe the TV producers just don’t have a clue.)

Now, I don’t profess to have a magical formula, nor have I attained total enlightenment on how to endure these distressful all-in moments, but I am still happy to suggest some alternative ways to help reduce the devastation and ease your pain. In a perfect world, I would like to see all of our exits end with a smile and a handshake. But who knows, maybe the viewers will all turn off their TVs if the poker players all behave themselves.

Anyway, here are the top 10 ways to sweat those all-in cards:

10. Close your eyes just before the dealer puts down the flop and listen to the roar of the crowd. (If you have aces and the crowd groans after the flop, you’d better pray for some help.)

9. Beg the dealer for whatever you need, and stay positive. (In this instance, beggars can be choosers too.)

8. Stand up, pack up, and put on your jacket. (This seems to help, jinxing your opponent by basically telling him he’s already won.)

7. Walk away from the table and ask the announcer to call you back to the table if you win. (This way you don’t even have to see the cards. Great for stress. It also eliminates the physical pain of high fives.)

6. Stare at your opponent’s face. (If he grimaces in pain, you know you’re sticking around.)

5. Clench your fist and keep yelling things like “Come on, baby,” and “Do it one time, dealer.” (No matter how many times you’ve been saved, you should still say “one time” as if you never get any luck.)

4. Just gaze at your opponent’s chair if you have him covered. (If it empties, you win.)

3. Berate your opponent so he won’t cheer for his cards to come up. (He’ll think he deserves to lose.)

2. Give your opponent a handshake and wish him or her well so that the outcome will be less painful for both of you. (Hugs are optional.)

1. Just get down on your knees and pray to the poker gods. (Whether there really are such things as poker gods is another discussion for another time.)