As Powers Match Wits
by Timothy Eddy
While Scotty Nguyen, holding ten, three off-suit, performed
his hackneyed buffoonery on the far table, Sam Farha held pocket aces and
looked on with a solemn face on the near table. Jason Lester raised the large
blind a noble $30,000, moving the bet to Nguyen. He took a sip of Michelob,
peeked at his cards one more time, and spoke with nonchalance. “All-in”.
He had a fair amount of chips; at least $600,000 more chips than Lester, so
he was not at risk of being knocked out of the tournament if he were to lose
this hand.
Everyone else folded, bringing the bet back to Lester. Lester peeked at his
king, jack of diamonds and gave Nguyen a firm stare. Even though Nguyen was
wearing shades, everyone could picture his protruding eyes behind the tinted
shield. His emaciated body stood up and walked around. He approached some
fans in the rustling crowd. “Four World Championships, twelve overall
victories on the tour, largest earnings in the world. He’s not going
to call me,” spoke a grinning Nguyen. “I’m money”.
Moments later at the table, Lester tossed his king, jack suited to the dealer,
surrendering his $30,000. “See”.
Meanwhile, Farha focused on the flop voraciously, but with easy eyes: ten,
eight, ace. Brian Yarmosky and Phil Hellmuth called Farha’s first bet
of $50,000. This time he posted $500,000, forcing Hellmuth all-in. Yarmosky
abandoned his pocket jacks quickly. Hellmuth’s decided against a derelict
pocket pair. “I call,” he said quickly after Yarmosky’s
fold. Farha, without expression, turned over his two aces. “Damnit!”
exclaimed Hellmuth. “Those cards leave me no outs.” Hellmuth flipped
over his cards, revealing two eights. Farha neither laughed nor smiled. He
remained seated in his chair, playing dexterously with his chips. The final
two cards were flipped, neither of which helped Hellmuth, knocking him out
of the tournament. Farha tossed the dealer his aces; the dealer in turn shoveled
$750,000 in chips towards him. He began stacking the various colors in neat
stacks in an absurdly fast manner, not taking any effort to look at Hellmuth,
never mind offer his hand to the exiti
ng eliminated participant. Farha was now amongst the top five in chip leaders
in a remaining field of 19.
Sammy Farha doesn’t wear shades. His eyes don’t necessitate such
a silly guise. No person can distinguish a bluff from a true bet when studying
his eyes. Perhaps this is because his eyes are busy picking apart the mind
of his opponents. Ironically, he will generally allow his lids to weigh down
just above the pupils. Sometimes he will even shut them. His opponents will
agree upon the difficulty involved in reading a poker player with minimum
emotion. Farha, with his stern eyes, leaves no opportunity for opponents to
capitalize on his betting pattern.
Farha’s eyes are especially difficult to read because a dark face accompanies
them. Of Lebanese descent, his face is almost like a shadow. One could assert
that he has the perfect poker face. But it goes beyond poker. A certain attitude
inheres within his eyes, which consequently permeates amongst his face. Perhaps
he formed this facade from years of unprecedented eruditions and intellectual
pursuits. He attended the University of Texas El Paso when he was 12 years
old. Two years later he received his doctorate in clinical psychology. By
the time he was 18 years old, he was certified to practice law in Texas. Undoubtedly,
these vigorous studies must have limited his socializing and at the same time
assisted in the formation of his haggard, aging face.
He didn’t begin playing poker until he was 30 years old. Now, at the
age of 34, he understands the game inside out. But the extent of our understanding
stops there; he remains a mystery to all the players. He contains peculiarities;
an eccentricity that seems to complement his astonishing education. He almost
fits the category of idiot savants, with seemingly no social skills or any
capacity by which to express emotions, but at the same time an aptitude to
out-play or out-think any opponent. Farha is a genius beyond comprehension.
“Welcome to the 2003 World Series of Poker. With Bob McCarver,
I’m Terrence Sanford. We are down to 15 card players; this year has
elicited some big upsets, with many reigning champions losing early. Johnny
Chan, considered one of the best ever was eliminated at 25th place. Phil Hellmuth,
spokesman for UltimateBet.com, was eliminated by newcomer Sam Farha, who has
taken this tournament by storm. His $1.2 million pot ranks him fourth. But
it’s not his pot that has everyone talking. Instead his steady, intimidating
demeanor has caught everyone’s attention. He brings about an uneasy
atmosphere onto the table. His opponents aren’t familiar with him, and
he isn’t opening the door to form any congenial acquaintances.
“The current chip leader is Scotty Nguyen, who was one of the favorites
at the onset of this year’s tournament. Nguyen’s chips total nearly
$2.1 million. Phil Ivey trails closely with $1.9 million. In third place,
Howard Lederer scarcely leads Farha with a smidgen more than $1.2 million.
As always, the championship event at this year’s World Series of Poker
is Texas Hold’em. For those of you who are unfamiliar with No Limit
Texas Hold’em, the rules are as follows: The player to the left of the
dealer posts a small blind of $5,000, while the second player from the left
of the dealer posts a large blind of $10,000. Note: the blinds rotate every
hand. Two cards are then dealt face down to each player. After seeing his
or her cards, each player, starting from third player from the left of the
dealer, bets. Every player has to at least match the large blind of $10,000
and can raise the blind if he or she wishes. The small blind only needs to
post $5,000 additional in chips.
“After everyone has bet, the dealer discards one card and flips over
three community cards. These three cards are called “the flop”.
The remaining players who have not mucked their cards then bet again. After
everyone has bet, the dealer discards one card and flips over a fourth card.
This card is called “the turn” or “fourth street”.
The remaining players bet again. Another card is discarded, then “the
river” or “fifth street” is added to the community cards.
Players then make their final bets. Everyone can use any five cards, including
the two they hold, to make the best poker hand. Recall that this is No Limit
Texas Hold’em, so anyone can go all-in at any point, meaning he is willing
to put all his chips on the line. With that in mind, the game can change in
a heartbeat.”
“Terrence, I had a chance to sit down with some of this year’s
finalists and discuss the championship event. This year has yielded many elite
veterans, but at the same time, many no-name rookies. This field of 15 includes
five former World Champions: Scotty Nguyen, Dan Harrington, Howard Lederer,
Chris Moneymaker, and Amir Vahedi. I sat down with these five champions to
discuss this year’s tournament.”
Dan Harrington: (On keeping to his strategy) When I'm losing my money, that's when I'm really winning my money. That's when I still keep my head together. It's one thing to devise a strategy. It's another thing to employ the strategy under the stress of making a monetary decision. Or making an incorrect decision and having to live with it, and not having it affect you for the next decision you have to make. I don't get caught up in the throes of fear or greed.
Howard Lederer: (On making it to the final 15) It seems like this year is the bicentennial of my championship victory (1987 champion, making him the third youngest ever to win the gold bracelet). In past years I’ve gotten off to slow starts. I did once again this year, with about only $8,500 in chips after the first day. But this year I was able to focus on my game, and not how many chips I had relative to the leader. I started catching some nice hands and simply began outplaying my opponents. I won four all-ins, one of which would’ve knocked me out of the tournament. Those four hands were integral in the reconstruction of my confidence.
Amir Vahedi: (On being at the same table as Sam Farha. Vahedi is the only returning champion at Farha’s table) I’ve been watching him play very closely, and he is impossible to read. When the field was narrowed to 25 remaining participants, 13 were put on the far table, and 12 were placed on our table. Since then, two have been knocked out at the far table; eight have been knocked out on our table. Farha has knocked out five of them. But not just that, people at our table have been making moves quick and out of character, trying to get a larger chip count than Farha. This accounts for the other three knockouts. Most of us have this premonition that Farha is going to knock us out sooner or later unless we substantiate a larger chip count than him. I just hope the two tables consolidate soon. There are too many amateurs on this table handing Farha their chips.
Scott Nguyen: (On Sam Farha) He’s doin’ well because he’s an amateur. Us pros have trouble against amateurs sometimes because they’re too difficult to read, and if they’re catching good cards, they’ll be difficult to beat. That’s all it is, catchin’ good cards. I’ll have no trouble beatin’ him. I invite him to my table, and by my table I mean final table. I’ll run him right off. I hope it comes down to him and I, because I think he’ll be the easiest to beat one-on-one.
Chris Moneymaker: (On the possibility of being the first player to ever repeat) I don’t like to look that far ahead. I want to advance to the final table first, where I feel I can do the most damage. Last year I had a difficult time making my way into the final ten, but once I did, I knew what I had to do and outplayed everyone to take first.
“Let’s bring you to some action on the near table.
With our peaking cameras, we allow the audience to see what cards each player
is holding. Howard Lederer just raised the blind $75,000. Let’s take
a look at what he has. jack, king of hearts. His bet forces the three players
to his left to fold, leaving the bet to Phil Ivey. He’s holding ten,
ace of separate suits in his hand, and with that he’s going to call
the bet.
“The bet now moves to Freddy Leeb. Freddy’s looking tired. It’s
been a long day for all these players, and it won’t end until there
are only ten players remaining. Dan Harrington is looking overly fatigued
as well. Harrington is the oldest player left in the field. He hasn’t
been playing many hands, but instead has been chatting away with his neighbor
Phil Ivey.”
“Well Bob we finally got a look at Freddy’s cards, and he’s
holding a pair of fives. He’s been playing with his chips for quite
awhile, but you have to think he’s going to call. He’s the type
of player that loves to play on pocket pairs. Perhaps he’s deliberating
over a raise. A raise wouldn’t be a bad idea in this situation, since
Leeb hasn’t been able to take control of any hands in this tournament.
And there he goes, he didn’t raise, but he did call the $75,000 bet,
so we’ll see a flop. (Screen focuses on flop: three, five, ten, with
all three cards being a heart) Now this flop brings about an interesting situation.
Lederer already has the flush, king high. He is the leader in the hand as
of right now. However, Ivey has the ace of hearts. If another heart were to
appear on the table, Ivey would have Lederer beat with a higher flush. Then
there’s Freddy Leeb. The flop brought him a set of fives. It’ll
be interesting to see how these players bet. The hand could be devastat
ing for one or maybe even two of these players, but at the same time very
lucrative for the winner.”
“Terrence it looks like Lederer is going to bet. And rightly so. Any
player would bet hard with a flush, king high, after a flop like that. He’s
placing chips in front of him; his bet is $150,000. Now it’s Ivey’s
turn. Ivey only has a pair of tens right now, but like Bob said, he has a
strong flush draw, holding that ace of hearts. Ivey hasn’t payed a lot
of hands lately, so I’d be surprised if he folds. He hasn’t really
caught the cards today, and if it weren’t for an all-in that he won
earlier in the day against Sam Grizzle, then he’d be outnumbered in
chips by these two players.
“Ivey, with his Steve Francis jersey, is staring hard into his chips.
‘I’m going to raise’. So Ivey is going to play aggressive
on a flush draw. Let’s see how much he raises the bet. ‘$300,000’.
Wow, what a risky play. Leeb must be thinking that they both have a flush,
so it’d be wisest for him to muck his cards. Although, if he were to
play this hand, he could hope for a pair to show up in the community, giving
him a full house and the victory over his opponents’ flushs. Either
way, Lederer is the only player not betting on a draw. This is a risky hand
for Ivey and Leeb.”
“Well there he goes, he’s calling the bet of $300,000. And Lederer
quickly goes all-in! It took him no less than three seconds after Leeb put
in his $300,000 to make the decision of putting all his chips on the line.
Ivey has about a half million more than Lederer in chips, so this won’t
push him all-in, but it will push Leeb all-in. Ivey is staring grimly into
Lederer eyes. . . and he quickly calls as well! Wow! This hand has compiled
a pot of nearly $1.5 million dollars, and if Leeb calls, it will approach
the two million mark. If Ivey wins this hand, I believe he will be in first
place amongst chip leaders.
“You gotta think, Bob, that since Leeb has put more than half of his
chips in this pot, that he too will call. But then again, he must know by
now that someone has the flush. He’s kind of caught in a corner here,
but he’s stacking his chips as though he’s going all-in. ‘I
call’. And there you have it. The biggest pot of the tournament so far.
The crowd is loving this hand. Lederer and Leeb are out of their seats pacing
around. Both of their tournament lives are on stake with this hand, and you
can tell just by reading the expression on their faces. Ivey, however, is
sitting tranquilly in his seat, continuing to sip on his brew.”
“Well, the dealer just shuffled all the chips into the pot, so now it’s
time for them to flip their cards. Lederer tosses up his king, jack suited,
and at the same time Ivey and Leeb turn over their ace, ten and pair of fives,
respectively. Each player looks on with a certain recognition of each other’s
cards, as though that’s what each of them expected. Now for the turn.
(The dealer discards one card and flips over a nine of spades) A nine of spades;
now while in theory this helps towards no one’s hand, it actually helps
Lederer. He already has his best hand set, with a flush King high. The other
two are waiting on a card. If a heart shows up, Ivey takes the pot. If a five,
ten, nine, or three shows up, then Leeb will take the pot. So, both players
have several outs. Quite the anxiety lies on the river. Let’s see what
it brings. (The dealer discards one card and flips one: two of hearts). And
Ivey jumps out of his chair at the sight of the fifth community card! Ivey
brings
in the biggest pot of the day, ousting Lederer and Leeb out of this tournament.
Lederer is already out the doors, displaying some serious repugnance upon
his poor luck. Lederer and Leeb tie for 13th place.”
The two chip leaders, Scotty Nguyen and Phil Ivey, sandwiched
me upon the merging of the two tables. To my left was Phil Ivey, to my right
Scotty Nguyen. Together we formed a wall of dominance, a structure of elites.
But across from us was the foreign, the strange: Sam Farha. Scotty didn’t
engage in this topic of conversation as much, but Phil and I debated the style
of Farha to no avail. We could only conclude his equivocal style was that
of abhorrence. Everyone detested his gaming. Furthermore, he selected his
hands perfectly. Has he even lost a hand? We weren’t sure.
“Look at his eyelids,” whispered Phil. “They are nearly
shut. He isn’t even paying attention to the action taking place on the
table. How can he possibly be figuring out everyone’s betting patterns
so easily. It’s like he can tell a bluff instinctively, because he sure
as hell isn’t discovering them by watching. And that cigarette. My god
that is gross. You can’t light cigarettes in here, yet he sticks that
crap in his mouth.” I looked across the table. I wondered if he could
hear us. He wore no shades, so we could see that he clearly had his eyes closed,
but it was unclear as to whether or not he was in full grasp of the conscious
world.
“Will you ladies quit it? You have to remember, poker is a game of patience
and confidence. You boys are gettin’ all antsy over one player on the
table. I don’t know about you two, but he isn’t in the same league
as me. I will pommel his chip count and get him down to earth. So, don’t
be frettin’ about this boy so much, and if you continue to, neither
of ya will have the pleasure of being defeated by me in the last hand.”
Scotty blows his horn whenever he gets the chance, and he never phrases his
boasts in a very well spoken manner. Regardless, I have no doubt that Scotty
can match up against Farha, especially since Farha might be riding a lucky
streak. But there’s something about Farha that gives me the feeling
that he isn’t riding luck. His mysteriousness, his enigmatic personality
makes us all wonder what truly makes him successful.
“Perhaps his eyes are busy picking apart the minds of everyone else,”
I said in a still whisper.
“What?” replied Ivey.
“His eyelids may be closed, but it seems as though his eyes are roaming
the table. His eyes are out amongst us, retrieving our fears, our instincts,
our betting patterns. Something about his eyes, they just don’t seem
mortal. When they’re open, they stare vacantly towards something I can’t
identify. It seems as though they aren’t a part of his body, not a part
of his mind, when his eyes are open. It’s as though they are a part
of everyone else, a part of someone else’s mind. It’s hard to
fathom, really.”
“Oh that’s real deep, Dan,” Ivey replied sardonically.
“But you get what I mean.” I might be 40 years older than Ivey,
but I’m certain that we have formed a certain affinity in this regard.
We’ve sat here deliberating against Farha since he has been at this
table. We both realize that to go in on a hand with Farha is dangerous, real
dangerous. But we can’t quite pinpoint why. I advocate metaphysics,
but only because I’m extremely superstitious (superstition isn’t
always the best thing in regards to poker). Something inheres within his personality
that I can’t explain. Scotty claims he has comprehensive understanding
of this maniac across the table. But that’s only because he hasn’t
played a hand against him. Phil and I both have, and it has been bad news
for the both of us. As I speak, his eyes open for the next hand to gaze at
his cards. Like I mentioned, he doesn’t go in on many hands. He seems
to be very selective. Obviously, he has borne witness to a hand he likes judging
by the $90,000 dollar raise he placed one the blind.
I took a look at my cards. Everyone between Farha and I folded,
so it was my turn. I had my hand cuffed over the cards while I bent up the
left edge of each card: ace, king suited. Roughly 15 hands had passed since
I last played a hand, so I decided I would see the flop regardless of Farha’s
presence. I placed the $90,000 along with the $5,000 blind in front of me.
Everyone left on the table folded, leaving the hand between Farha and myself.
I watched Farha with every move he made, even though there were very few.
For a split moment, I made eye contact with him. His eyes were the biggest
I had seen all tournament, showing the entire pupil. I searched deep into
his eyes, and it seemed as though his entire visage was simply a mask. The
eyes seemed to have no depth, as though he had solid colored contacts in his
eyes. Such a countenance caused me to quiver and return to my cards.
I had to remember to stick to my game plan and bet according to strategy.
Forget who it is across the table. Like Nguyen said, he’s only an amateur.
He has no experience here. Hell, I’ve won this damn tournament! Be stoic
and be stern. If there’s anyone on this table to fear, it’s me;
experience vs. inexperience.
The flop assisted my encouragement: king, king, seven. I was working with
three kings and an ace kicker. Once he checked the bet to me, I felt I had
seized the hand. I had confidence that I could bet hard and control the hand,
perhaps even force him to fold before we’re given the turn card. I assured
myself that at best he had two pair, at best holding a seven in his hand.
But why would he bet before the flop with a seven? Maybe he has pocket sevens,
but very doubtful. If he did, he would have bet rather than check, I’m
sure. Any true cardplayer would, unless Nguyen is right and Farha is simply
an inexperienced amateur.
Maybe he has ace, seven suited? That wouldn’t help him any since all
the cards on the table are of different suit, giving him a very slim chance
at a flush. And if he had the remaining king, which is possible but highly
doubtful, then I’d certainly have him beat since my ace kicker would
beat his kicker indisputably. With all that contemplated, I decided to place
a $250,000 bet. I could hear the crowd growing anxious. There’s nothing
the crowd likes better than a hand played out in its entirety, so I’m
sure they were hoping for a call from Farha.
Farha slumbered for a few minutes, playing with his chips without even placing
an eye on them. The brilliant exhibit of his deftness made me question the
rumor asserting that his poker career consists of only four years’ duration.
But assuming he were an amateur, the dexterity by which he fondles his chips
amazes me. Qua beginner, he handles his chips better than I do as a poker
competitor of 42 years. But at that particular moment, I was more concerned
with his next move. I was confident that he would fold, but then again, courage
is a difficult virtue to reconcile once involved in a hand with Farha. That
thought lingered in my head until suddenly my heart jumped up my throat, shoving
my confidence into my adam’s apple. I swallowed hard and deep as he
placed a quarter of a million worth of chips in front of him. I upheld a somber
face, but my heart was racing at an unhealthy rate. What does he have? I kept
asking myself that question. Does he think I’m bluffing? If he did,
he probably would’ve raised the bet and forced me to fold. Does he have
pocket sevens? Does he have king, seven? The two previous conjectures seemed
doubtful.
The dealer removed one card from the deck, and then she revealed the turn:
queen of spades. That didn’t help me at all, and hopefully I can judge
by his next bet whether or not it helped him. He tapped his fingers on the
table, signaling a check. Can I trust that this queen did not help him? Even
if he is holding a queen, that’d only give him two pair. Three of a
kind beats two pair. With the bet on my lap, I felt it necessary to get him
out of this hand immediately; I didn’t want him to win this hand on
the river. Without much hesitation, I placed $300,000 in front of me. Another
strong bet. In what was one of the most appalling moves of the tournament,
and certainly the most formidable moment for me, he placed $300,000 in chips
in front of him no more than a second after I placed my bet. Unless the stack
of $300,000 was coincidentally stacked, he must’ve known that I was
going to bet that exact amount. However, I never saw him reassemble his chips
after he checked, only be
fore he checked. He had that whole sequence planned out ingeniously. He’s
been trapping me into a corner.
The river brought a three of diamonds. I looked at his eyes again as they
followed the fifth card onto the table. They were wide again, but now they
lacked the phoniness they so horribly haunted me with earlier. I could argue
that this transformation of figure was a sum of my anxiety, my fear, my chagrin,
with the anxiety simply attributing to the trickery by which my eyes were
played. But like I mentioned earlier, I associate many things with the fantastic
realms which embody us. Farha seems to have some supernatural control over
this table, one which is inexplicable. If you want me to phrase it pragmatically,
he is impossible to read or outplay.
“All-in,” resonated from across the table. I folded my cards.
While most players dream of pocket aces, I firmly believe Sam
Farha rests at this poker table dreaming of bluffing with a seven, two off
suit. Seven, two off suit is, of course, the worst two cards a player can
receive before seeing the flop. They offer no straight draw, no strong flush
draw, and while an eight, two of different suits falls under that same criteria,
the eight offers a bigger pair draw than the seven.
It seems as though Farha is here simply to humiliate us, to make a mockery
of us professionals. Perhaps he’s simply here to remove the spotlight
from Nguyen and his haughtiness. About ten years back, Scotty received plenty
of competition, most notably from Stu Ungar. Ungar imposed a sort of polarization
of the World Series of Poker and the World Poker Tour between himself and
Scotty. Though, more of the power was held by Ungar. Nguyen did walk away
with a couple victories, but many still consider Ungar as the best player
of all time. Unfortunately, in 1996, Ungar died of cocaine abuse, and in essence
a poker superpower was lost. Since then, Nguyen has performed a distressing
dominance over the game. But many of us feel as though Nguyen won’t
be able to avoid Farha. Nguyen is full of nonsense when he displays such arrogance
in regards to playing Farha one-on-one. Nguyen wants a unilateral war with
Farha, a war Amir Vahedi and I feel he will lose. Farha simply possesses a
str
ange ability that Nguyen doesn’t possess. What it is, I’m not
completely sure.
No more than seven hands ago I experienced something utterly inconceivable.
At first, I blamed my fatigue, supposing my eyes caught a false glimpse of
what had actually happened. Regardless, the occurrence goes as follows: moments
ago I noted that I feel Farha competes to instill fear and anguish amongst
his opponents rather than for the million dollar grand prize. Well, I was
gazing aimlessly in Farha’s direction. I hadn’t had much action
lately, catching poor cards before the flop and all, so my mind began to drift
from the table a bit. Like I said, I was pretty tired at this point, too,
so I felt it best to save my concentration for the hands in which I engage.
So, as was with most of the recent hands, Vahedi and I mucked our cards before
the flop, bringing the bet to Farha. He too decided on mucking his cards,
but the fashion in which he did so grasped my full attention. You see, when
players fold their cards, they almost never reveal their cards to their opponents.
With that in mind, when a player tosses his cards towards the dealer, he performs
this in a manner such that the cards never leave a plane parallel to the table.
If the cards remain face-down and parallel to the table at all times, the
cards will not be revealed. In view of that, Sam Farha is an extremely dexterous
man. One can reach such a conclusion simply by studying him as he fiddles
with his chips. So, as I was explaining, he mucked his cards. However, when
he tossed the cards towards the dealer, they flew slightly awry. I think he
noticed that I was paying attention to his toss, so he tilted them towards
me, so that only I could catch a glimpse of his cards. Gran
ted they were hard to see since they were only revealed for a split second,
I can almost guarantee that he folded a pair of kings. A pair of kings! No
one had bet before him, so at the very least all he needed to do was match
the $10,000 blind. Even if someone had bet, I can’t possibly fathom
folding a pair of kings before seeing the flop. It’s the second best
hand to have before a flop, second only to a pair of aces. What’s more
is that he flashed me a smirk. Farha, who, previous to this point, had displayed
unprecedented handiness in tossing cards and brutally solemn procedure in
keeping a stern expression, deviated from his “gameplan,” which
remains debatable, to express that he isn’t simply two-dimensional.
He might not be a robot, like many of us had suggested jokingly. Instead,
he opened up to me presumably more than he had to any other player. Why? I
surmise, or rather strongly sense, that he was inviting me to learn of his
elaborate plan.
It makes perfect sense, too. I have the lowest chip total at this table by
far, with a meager $250,000. He knows I’ll be eliminated soon, so why
not let me in on his motives, his motives that, if I conjectured correctly
at this beginning of this parable, involve making an impression upon this
game and these players rather than winning the grand prize. If he wanted to
win the money, he would certainly play a pair of kings. Surely, he has alterior
motives which go beyond the money. Perhaps he’s trying to popularize
himself through these eerie, unexplainable actions. Either way, I think his
ultimate goal involves a dualing with Scotty.
“Moneymaker. Psst, Chris. What are you looking at? We have an exciting
hand going on right now,” said Amir, waking me from my comatose trance
of disbelief. Scotty raised Phil Ivey’s pre-flop bet from $100,000 to
$1.8 million, putting Ivey all-in. At this point, Scotty has compiled a dominant
chip count, nearly double that of Farha’s, who resides in second place.
Captivating such a dominant role gives him the ability to push everyone around.
For instance, he’s currently using his chip count aggressively to gain
control over Ivey, putting him in an excrutiatingly difficult situation. Basically,
Scotty’s chip count is a huge encumbrance for everyone else.
“I’ll call,” spoke Ivey with protruding eyes of fear. Ivey
will often be found gambling his chips. He has been a part of six all-ins
before the flop. In other words, he won’t hesitate to place all of his
chips on the line at the chance of the remaining five cards helping his opponent
rather than him. This is an extremely risky play, especially since he has
a solid chip count. First and foremost, since Scotty has more chips than Ivey,
a loss will knock him out of the tournament. Generally, a player will only
call an all-in if he has few chips left and needs to make a move soon, figuring
that gambling a minimal amount of chips on solid cards is better than trying
to play a hand out against someone who has a much larger chip count. Another
instance where one might call an all-in (notice I say call, not actually make
the initial bet) would be under the circumstances that the player is confident
he’ll win the hand (i.e. calling a bluff). Neither of those circumstances
apply to I
vey in this situation. Secondly, if Scotty gains another $1.8 million dollars,
Ivey will be opening the door to a sort of stalwart fervor by which Scotty
can dominate the table. However, if Ivey takes home this hand, it will be
beneficial to the table and Ivey in the sense that Ivey will double his chip
count, and also in the sense that the concentration of chips will be more
equally spread, making the competition better between Scotty and the remaining
players. Essentially, Scotty will have the power to impose his chip count
upon our betting style if he wins this hand, making it especially difficult
for us to bluff him out of a hand.
“Well, Phil. I suppose you realized that the best way to beat me is
to gamble, because I’m sure you’re aware of the fact that I’m
rarely outplayed,” said Scotty as he flipped over his queen, king of
spades. “I’m sure you thought I was bluffing, but I’m terribly
difficult to read, huh Phil?” Ivey then flipped over a pair of aces.
“No Scotty I realized what you had. I simply realized I had something
better,” remarked Ivey as he stood up and glared at Scotty. Ivey does
not welcome trash-talking, and for this reason despises Scotty. A possible
motive in calling Scotty might lie in Ivey’s particular vested interest
in developing a submissive Scotty Nguyen. Ivey would love to destroy Scotty’s
pride that fuels his arrogance. I reckon this last notion is integral to Nguyen’s
success. He has the consummate ability in forcing his opponents to play on
emotion rather than rationale. Such might be the case with this particular
hand.
The dealer tapped the table, removed the top card, and neatly situated three
cards next to each other, front side up: ten, jack, jack. Ivey nodded in affirmation
of a good flop. From here on in if an ace or a jack were to arise, the hand
would be Phil’s. If a queen or a king were to surface on the turn or
on the river, Ivey would still win. Allow me to explain: a single queen or
king would give Scotty two pair: kings over jacks or queens over jacks. However,
with Ivey carrying those pocket aces, he’ll have the higher two pair
with aces over jacks. The flop leaves Scotty three outs, two of which are
very unlikely. First, he can catch two queens in the remaining two cards,
giving him a fullhouse and would thenceforth defeat Ivey’s two pair
(or, as many poker connoisseurs like to point out, his three pair. Ivey would
have two aces, two queens, and two jacks. Since can he only play five cards,
the third pair proves to be futile. So with that in mind, three pair is extremely
fru
strating). Scotty could also catch two kings, giving him a similar fullhouse.
This leaves him one remaining out; the most likely of the three: a nine. A
nine would give him a straight to the king, and this would beat Ivey’s
hand assuming Ivey does not catch a fullhouse with the fifth community card.
In the event of a queen, king conclusion to the community, Ivey would defeat
Scotty with a straigh to the ace. So, with three cards lying in the community,
Ivey is a favorite almost 3:1 over Nguyen, but anything can happen with the
last two cards. Also, while evaluating the flop, it’s important to note
that no spades were flopped, eliminating Scotty’s flush draw. Ivey lacks
any flush draw as well. All of this information was spinning through all of
our heads, but it wasn’t evident that such was the case with the current
spotlight competitors.
Ivey leaned forward on to the back of his chair, gazing solemnly into the
table’s center. The center of the table was the subject of everyone’s
focus. Or rather the table’s centrifuge, since during active hands it
seems to spin the players around its community cards while the bet moves from
one player to another. Everyone focuses in on the community cards, with their
chips and their minds being spun around the center, spinning in the direction
by which the bet moves. The chips, along with everyone’s mindset, lay
on the boundaries of the community cards. Consider a hand in which all the
players are involved, all the players are betting, all the chips are encroaching
the tranquil community cards. The community cards, acting like Aristotle’s
notion of the unmoved mover, gives rise to change, to movement, to action,
but itself is not moved. It provides a centrifugal force, a certain muddled
spin to the poker table. Consider this conceptual hand, the hand involving
everyone, and
the chaotic gyre that said centrifugal force would produce. Each individual
mindset would provide no focus with so many seperate strategies embarking
upon one’s single solitary strategy. The chips would stand in grave
danger, with seven, eight, perhaps even nine intelligent minds seeking the
advantage of your chips that lay just outside this unmoved mover. The bet
would circle the table before the player could even consider what he’s
betting against, and in turn, what his players are betting on. Consider the
chaos upon every card player’s participation, and whilst this chimerical
chaos fancies you, reflect on Sammy Farha. Sammy holds the ability to create
this nauseating, nervous agitation that can otherwise only be experienced
through a multilateral, conglomerate war of the cards. Farha can enact this
spell independently; he’s done it to me, and I can assure not only me.
In this instance where the table seemed to be halted, Scotty remained seated,
sipping on his Michelob. His large shades sufficiently sheltered his expression,
but we could all recognize a certain trepidation forming within his character;
a running mouth of confidence that deteriorated to silence. Perhaps a victorious
hand, a hand of such magnitude, from Ivey could pave the path for Scotty’s
road to absolute humility, albeit a long road considering his enormous ego.
We needed someone to rally against Scotty. Surprisingly, Farha and Scotty,
to this point, have not engaged in a hand together one-on-one. Earlier, Farha,
Scotty and Dan Harrington were all in a hand together, but Nguyen folded after
the flop, leaving Farha to play Harrington.
In hope of a rally, we wished for an ace or a jack in high anticipation. The
dealer, in what seemed like an eternity between the flop and the turn, tapped
the table and discarded a card. The only stakes riding on fourth street were
those of Scotty, but the fourth card kept Nguyen alive. The dealer placed
an eight next to the first three cards, leaving Scotty one remaining out:
a nine. Phil swallowed hard. Following the incessant gulp, I noticed that
his throat seemed to palpitate at a high rate. 140 could serve a good estimate
to his current heartbeats per minute. With such explicit, clear dread that
everyone could notice, his nerves pervaded amongst the remaining players and
the remaining crowd. It was extremely late, almost the end of day four of
this tournament. The field of players, now totaling six, had been tired the
entire day as a result of three straight nights of minimal sleep. All those
who remained were closely attentive to the current hand. Everyone found a
seco
nd wind, even if for only this hand.
“Did I ever tell you I’ve never lost to pocket aces. That is,
everytime I have played the entire hand against pocket aces,” Scotty
said, speaking in the direction of Dan Harrington. “You’re a superstitious
guy, Dan. I’ve heard you chattin’ away with our friend Phil, here.
Would you ever jinx yourself like that? A huge hand like this? I just said
I’ve never lost to pocket aces, so according to you I’m gonna
lose this hand. Well fuck it. I hope I lose, just so you boys realize that
I only lose big hands when I gamble. Even then, I play such solid cards consistently
that I don’t think all-ins before the flop are gambling for me. All-in
before a flop might be random to you, but I have my methods, my way of putting
my cards in the mix for a chance to win big.” Harrington gazed straight
ahead, ignoring the absurd ploys of Nguyen. Scotty’s a truly brilliant
man, I won’t take that from him. But he lacks eloquence in his trash-talking.
He lacks any articulation or moderation in his b
oasting that would lend us to respect his character. Evident to everyone was
that this hand has Scotty troubled; his argument against the possibilities
of losing this hand were downright fatuous. He made no sense. Somehow, though,
he needed to place a cushion under his ego so that if he loses this hand and
his ego falls, it will land on the cushion, giving it no visual injury. He
wants to uphold a statuesque gaming face, keeping it from losing any vehemence
and zeal. By setting this cushion for his ego, it will not bear any damage.
Instead, he’ll still appear to be the same egotistical maniac even though
his ego has actually been hit hard.
Regardless of his pride, we all knew behind those glasses were a pair of eyes
expressing the utmost apprehension. He fears losing $1.8 million despite his
nonsense. I truly believe much of that fear resides in the hope that he can
keep a substantial chip lead over Farha. I repeat myself in expressing the
belief that Farha will defeat Nguyen, but allow me to add the element of chip
distribution. If Farha can be equal to Scotty once they are the two remaining
players, then I can confidently assert that Farha will run Scotty off the
table. I’m also willing to bet that Scotty concurs to a certain degree,
but no one would ever be able to pry such a claim from him.
The dealer generally does not consume so much time in between cards when dealing
an all-in, but this hand was different. There was quiet chattering on the
table and loud exclamatories from the crowd. My poker constituents, ranging
from opponents to experts to simply fans, have evaluated this hand to a point
where all that remains is the outcome. In the concluding moments of my hypotheses,
the dealer tapped the table. Following the same ritual as always, the dealer
placed the river next to the first four community cards. Upon the appearance
of the fifth card, seemingly everyone exhaled a sigh of disappointment. A
nine of diamonds made for a disappointing end to day four.
“I don’t lose to pocket aces, Phil.” Nguyen’s assinine
comment echoed down the hall leading to the exit, the path on which Ivey treaded
quickly. Everyone’s second wind left with Phil’s departure, returning
the uncomfortable weight to our eyelids. Amir, Dan, and myself sat hopelessly
behind our meager stacks of chips, fully aware that they would soon belong
to either the slumberous genius to my left or the pompous cadaver to my right.
The dealer dealt out a new hand while announcing to the players that there
will only be five more hands before day’s end. Farha quickly folded
his hand before the flop. Removing his unlit cigarette from his mouth, he
let loose a quick yawn, reinserted the stick and returned to his nirvana of
sevens and deuces.
Scouting is a war of attrition. Four days of logging bets, hands won, money
won etc., and then studying the results to understand the trends has knocked
me weary. At 7:00 in the A.M., I found myself in the desolate hours of Binion’s
Casino. The quiet, peaceful air conditioner propelled a comfortable noise
into the early morning setting. Concentrating on my studies came easily at
this hour and this location. Hopefully my concentration can persevere until
the players commence action again.
Sammy Farha is the subject of my studies. I’ve studied him thoroughly
for the past two days. On average, he folds 27 times in between hands played,
which is completely inordinate. Furthermore, of the 22 hands he’s played
(total, not just ones played out in its entirety) in the past two days, he
has won 20; another absurd statistic. My main concern lies in the fact that
Mr. Nguyen, for whom I work, hasn’t played any hands against Farha,
unless you consider Scotty’s pre-flop bet which was called by Farha
only to see Scotty fold after the flop. I can’t decide if Scotty is
prepared to match up against Farha for a few reasons. Most importantly, neither
of us know much about him. At best we can hypothesize as to how Farha competes
successfully. Never have I seen a player take part in so few hands and win
at such a high rate. Secondly, professionals often match up poorly against
amateurs since professionals are accustomed to reading other professionals.
Amateurs – and by amateur I
mean a true novice – often play by a completely different style, and
their stratagems make their accomplished adversary fall out of sync.
Consider this statistic, though. Most amateurs play much like Sammy does,
just not to that extreme and not with such success; they wait on good cards,
play them, and muck the rest of their hands. Through such strategy they’re
fairly successful, as long as they catch the cards. Good cards plus a good
flop along with inexperience often wins a hand. You can’t bluff a pair
upon a moron who thinks his two pair constitutes the quintessential hand.
Many more intricacies are involved in evaluating the success of an amateur
in competition with a professional. Anyhow, that brings me back to Mr. Farha.
With the aforementioned in mind, it would be reasonable to assume that Sammy
waits on the good cards, bets on them, is rewarded by the flop and henceforth
controls the hand. However, when you assume, you make an ass out of u and
me. The proverb speaks so true in this instance. Farha’s winning hands,
when played completely through a five card flop, look like this (chronologically
arrange
d): Js, 4d; AA; 5s, 6s; 9h, 2h; Qd, 5d; Kd, 10h. Jack, four off suit?! Nine,
two suited?! I wouldn’t wipe my ass with a nine, two of hearts. Read
over those six hands, and consider how lucky he was on the flop. It seems
that the more fortunate he is on the flop, the more he suckers the other players
into the hand. Perhaps he utilizes the old strategy of sucker-cards, where
the player waits for good flops and once he gets them, he milks them for all
they’re worth by betting a petty chip amount that accumulates a solid
chip count throughout the four bets. Also, he seems to use reverse psychology
in the fact that he bets hard with weak cards and bets small with good cards
(bet $50,000 with AA, but $120,000 with 5s, 6s), therefore when the flop brings
a two, eight, four of different suits, he has two pair of fours and eights
while his opponent is stranded with ace, jack. Farha will then bet a modest
chip count, and since his opponent is holding face cards, he figures he’ll
see th
e turn in the hope that he’ll catch that ace, because Farha’s
small bet causes his opponent to presuppose a small pair stands as Farha’s
strongest hand. This is mostly hypothetical, but I have empirical evidence,
as we all do, that he’s been catching some great cards. This leaves
us to wonder what cards he has been bluffing with. What cards has he been
folding, for goodness sake?
Most players go by the odds; play the system. Generally it’s the only
way to go. If a ten, eight, three flops on the table and Scotty holds seven,
nine, any small bet would chase him out of the hand, because Scotty doesn’t
like to gamble on straight draws. Nor do most professionals. Why? Because
he’d be playing against the odds. He wouldn’t be playing on a
strong, systematic method. I think in this regard we can understand Sammy
a little better. He seems to be terribly unconventional. He bets on the small
cards, raises on the straight or flush draw, goes all-in on two pair; conversely,
he bets small with pocket pairs, checks on three of a kind, folds face cards
before the flop. None of this makes sense, but at the same time it does. He’s
sneaking through the crevices of good hands. He takes the hands that should
be won by a pair of jacks with a king kicker, but instead his two pair of
fives and fours take the chips.
I think Farha will be called a lot more today. Players are certainly catching
on to his inane betting patterns. Also, I can’t help but credit his
winning percentage to luck. The system by which he plays is effective when
he catches the cards, but only when he catches the cards. Granted he’ll
most likely be matched up against Scotty in second place, I feel there is
no way he can implement this method and defeat Nguyen. Many of the players
have labeled Farha as profound beyond our poker understandings, but I think
once they sit down and deliberate his method, they’ll recognize that
he isn’t all that terribly abstract and difficult to defeat.
And so it came to be that on the fifth and final day of the
tournament I found myself up against Farha, perhaps ready to throw all my
chips in if the flop gave me a glimmer of hope. Moneymaker and Harrington
were down to about a quarter of a million chips each and I had a mere half
million. Our chips matched up poorly against Farha’s stack; Nguyen’s
was even worse, totaling an immovable $4.5 million, roughly. The juggernaut
which were the clay medallions in front of Scotty nearly tripled Farha’s
chip total. The three of us stood as minute intermediaries in a match that,
at this juncture, was being dominated by the Nguyen-Farha battle.
My best opportunity of the day arose with a jack, ten. I called Sammy’s
bet; his first play of the day. I note that Sammy’s betting before the
flop seemed to be more aggressive this time, perhaps since he wanted the three
remaining parasites off the table. His best of $150,000 made for an expensive
flop, but I needed to start making a move with the minimal chips I had. The
blinds were hacking away at my stack, something I couldn’t afford to
continue paying.
The flop brought with it great news: jack, queen, ten. I examined Sammy as
he reached for his chips, and in the same manner as always, placed his bet
in front of him. He bet another $200,000. So, I felt it was now my chance
to try and double-up. “I’m goin’ all-in,” I spoke
with fatigued confidence. I figured he always wins with crappy cards, so if
he’s playing crappy cards again, then I’ve got him nailed, since
the flop brought about two face cards. However, he quickly called and tossed
over his cards. As with all his opponents, he punched me in the face with
his two cards. Regardless if I, by some long-shot, won this hand, I would
nonetheless surrender in defeat, for Sammy Farha is officially impossible
to understand. I didn’t even put forth the mental strain of understanding
what my outs were. Sammy flipped over two queens, sickening me even more than
his grotesque cigarette indulgence.
Finally, in what seemed like an eternity, I reached my destination.
Farha was directly across the table, and the grand prize of a million dollars
in cash was placed in between us. I found myself so excited I could hardly
wait. Just give me a few good opportunities and I’ll have him gone,
exterminated. He’ll always be remembered for his amazing march to the
final table and his Cinderella performance, his incredible stretch of luck,
his seemingly unprecedented domination over everyone else. And then everyone
will recall how he was defeated in convincing fashion by the greatest player
ever.
It was on the third hand that he made a play. I found that highly uncharacteristic
of him to play so quickly, but since the blinds have been upped a considerable
amount, I believe he realizes that he can’t sit on his chips and wait
for good cards, especially since I have so many more chips than him. Regardless,
his bet was $150,000, and I quickly called with my queen, five unsuited. $150,000
is pocket change for me at this juncture. The dealer performed her ritual
and presented us three cards, all of which did not fair well with me. However,
he checked over to me, and since the flop brought me eight, three, and jack
of hearts, I contained the opportunity to snag a high flush with my queen
of hearts. So, being aggressive and licking my chops in the process, I bet
$750,000. The bet was hefty in relation to his chip total, so I knew it’d
put him in a difficult situation. Nonetheless, he called. Fair enough; let’s
see the turn!
The fourth card brought gave my hand no assistance, but it opened the door
for a very nice bluff if Farha checks or bets lightly. A second jack was placed
on the table, so my betting pattern would force him to consider whether or
not I have another jack. I was getting giddier by the moment, and once he
checked I seized the opportunity. I placed $850,000 in front of me and gave
him a playful smile. Despite my excitement, I continued to keep my usual poker
face accompanied by a mocking smile.
To my surprise, he called the bet. He now had roughly only a half million
in chips. Has he actually caught some solid cards? Is he actually betting
hard on a good hand? I was still confident that I would prevail, but I was
pushing for a heart on the river to give me the flush. I can confidently say
that I would have the hand won with a queen-high flush, as long as the river
didn’t bring another pair on the table, makign a fullhouse draw far
likelier. I sipped my brew and casually watched the fifth card come up: king
of hearts. Brilliant! I couldn’t have scripted it better. A king-high
flush! I had this hand nailed, I knew it, especially once Farha checked the
bet to me. “I’m pushing you all-in,” I said immediately.
Perhaps too quickly and with too much excitement, but I could taste the victory
that many had felt I wouldn’t get. The decision took him no more than
a minute to finalize, and once he said “I call,” I looked him
in the eyes, make stern contact with them, and showe
d him my queen of hearts. With all hands, the player who gets called is required
to reveal his cards first. So I waited anxiously for his cards to turn over,
or in the likely event that he has a worse hand, he might just toss them to
the dealer, surrendering himself in second place. Instead, he sat calmly staring
at me, doing it because he understands it will drive me crazy. I guess that
if he’s going to lose to me, he’s going to inflict whatever pain
on me while departing.
After perhaps the longest ten seconds of my life, he flipped over one card:
king of clubs. I always hated when players would do this; holding that second
cards drives my heart quickly into my throat. Then with a deep breath, he
looked at his final card and tossed it face up. I wasn’t prepared for
this, but I captured my emotions before they revealed any distress. I needed
to uphold my confident fervor. But it was a damn hard thing to do after my
eyes got a glimpse of his ace of hearts.
I gathered myself as best I could. It’s alright, you’re virtually
equal to him in chip count, so don’t sweat it. You’re the better
poker player here. I kept repeating those to myselfs, disregarding the man
across the table that began to disturb me, much like my other opponents said
he would. I didn’t want him to disturb me, but I couldn’t help
it. His absurd betting patterns – and that stupid cigarette! Christ,
his profound tastes disgust me. But I had to ignore his nauseating and disturbing
attributes. It’s time to buckle down and defeat him.
The dealer dealt me a ten, nine of different suits. I felt a strong desire
to regain control of the table so I bet $100,000 upon his check. I wouldn’t
mind him simply folding. I need to begin with the fundamentals, do the simple
things to get my confidence back. His response to this bet was crucial, and
did he ever take advantage of the crucial situation; his bet raised me a quarter
of a million. It wasn’t enough to make me back down, not with a solid
jack, nine. I always loved seeing the flop. No other bet brings you three
cards at once. Sticking with that, I called the bet. The dealer restored a
certain comfort within me with her flopping of the first three cards: jack,
five, nine. Ok! Fair flop. I considered milking this hand for a considerable
amount of chips, but instead I decided that winning the pot would work best
to my advantage, especially since a pair of nines isn’t anythign exceptional.
At this juncture, I am a handful of chips behind him. To regain the lead woul
d be a big boost.
Once again, he checked the bet to me. I placed my bet of $700,000, and he
raised me. I shook my head and made the call. What could he possibly have?
He had me a bit shook, but like I said before matching up against him, I want
war. He knows what a brilliant player he’s up against. He’ll stumble
at some point; he can’t keep betting on draws like he did last hand.
Not with me.
I was regaining my confidence, and once the second nine was placed into the
community cards I exhorted myself with the utmost reassurance from within,
but at the same time remained statuesque. Once again he checked to me. I deliberated
for a moment, and then I decided on $750,000. I dare you to raise me again,
Sammy. I looked him in the eye to remind him this is war. You won’t
escape this war without brutal scars, and you won’t escape this battle
without detrimental wounds. My confidence, driven by my anger, was boiling
like lava. Yet, everytime he raised my bet, he set me back a little. I had
to gather myself and remember poker is not won by emotions but by rationale.
Another setback occurred with his $250,000 raise. I quickly called, though,
and attentively studied the dealer. The dealer gave me a sketchy river: another
jack. However, it gave me the fullhouse, so I was content in placing a solid
bet, forcing him to enact another raise on me. By now he has to know that
I ha
ve a nine or a jack, and he also knows that I’ll call his bet in all
likelihood.
He checked the bet to me, leaving me a plethora of options. I glanced at my
ten, nine unsuited, giving me the full house, nines over jacks. The only hands
that could possibly beat my fullhouse would be a fullhouse comprised of jacks
over nines, or in a very unlikely situation, four jacks. If he has a jack,
he’ll have me beat. However, he checked the bet over to me. I would’ve
figured such circumstances would leave him jackless, but I must remember that
he has checked each of the four bets to me and then raised me. He could very
well have the jack, and with that in mind, he might be trapping me.
I decided it was now a question of how much to bet, confident that betting
hard is the right thing to do. Farha has been bluffing all week, making unfathomable
calls. It’s time for me to return the favor and cut into his stack of
chips, chips that he stole from me. I stacked $900,000 in chips and pushed
them in front of me. This hand was mine to win. If he called and lost, I would
return to a healthy lead.
The dealer slid the chips towards the middle, and everyone shifted their eyes
to the half-slumbering Farha. He took the cigarette from his mouth, gritted
his teeth, and solemnly spoke, “all-in”. I stared at him with
a face of stone, but I was screaming blasphemy from within. He has the jack,
doesn’t he. He set this up, and I should’ve seen this coming.
This is the seventh time he’s been all-in this tournament, and he’s
yet to lose once. Why did I play on emotion!
I was filled with rancor from his ballsy move, but I remained unsettled from
the exterior. I didn’t allow the crowd to rattle me, a crowd which was
brewing with excitement. It wasn’t a matter of hiding my hand, because
there was no more betting to be had. Instead, I wanted to uphold my dignity.
If I fold this hand and this tournament prolongs, I don’t want him to
think of me as cowardice, as an emotional cardplayer. I need him to remember
who’s best at this table: me.
However, I couldn’t get myself to focus on the strategy my cards; I
was too disgusted by this mongrel across the table. He appalled me. I could
almost taste the cigarette in his mouth, I could taste the unlit cigarette
permeating a nauseatin’ taste throughout the mouth. How could he be
unbothered by such a taste? The cigarette has been sitting on his lips for
nearly 15 hours, yet he dozes into a seemingly unphased sleep.
I swallowed hard, thinking of how badly I’d love to call him. But the
rational part of my mind convinced to fold, because if he did have that jack,
I would be eliminated. So, as hard as it was, I tossed my fullhouse away and
looked off into the crowd. When I returned my head to the table, I found Farha
gazing at me with his cards still in his hand. I gave him a hard, long, yet
subtle sneer. In return, he flipped his two cards over for everyone to see.
He sat back and grinned like a moron, the first time I had seen him smile
all tournament. His grin was in reaction to his triumph, to the glory of bluffing
me out of a full house with the most egregious two cards one can receive before
seeing the flop.
His seven of diamonds and two of spades will live with me in infamy.
How does Sam Farha exemplify a monster?
Sigmund Freud, in his essay “The ‘Uncanny’,” developed
several criterions for the fulfillment of being uncanny. In a somewhat general
regard, he designated the uncanny as that which is not familiar, when something
“has the meaning of that which is obscure, inaccessible to knowledge”
(201). Sam Farha comes into the poker tournament regarded as someone completely
obscure. First and foremost, no one knows anything of him other than his post-secondary
education. None of the players in this field of professionals had ever heard
of him before this tournament, and in turn no one had ever played a single
hand against him. Farha’s betting style and mannerism at the table was
utterly unfamiliar to the experienced players, and therefore he was difficult
to understand in relation to poker expertise. “I’ve been watching
him play very closely, and he is impossible to read,” remarked Amir
Vahedi, one of the returning champions in the tournament. He wasn’t
the only one to notice the difficulty in dueling with Farha, either, as that
theme of understanding Farha’s style arises consistently throughout
the story. Amplifying the theme is the fact that world champions, the masterminds
of poker, haven’t a clue as to Farha’s ploys. As Freud would understand
this relationship, Farha is “innaccessible to knowledge”.
A scene arises in which a certain poker connoisseur asserts several possible
trends that Farha seems to implement. He explains that Farha seems to continuously
win hands with two cards that aren’t even worthy of seeing a flop. With
that in mind, he gives the reader the impression that perhaps Farha is capable
of being understood. However, in the ensuing scene of inexplicable poker action,
Farha continues to baffle all those involved. He plays several hands in, what
is uncharacteristic of him, close sequential intervals, and also wins the
hands with a strong pre-flop pair of cards. Then, upon the conclusion of the
story, he shocks the reader with a brilliant bluff while holding the infamous
seven, two off suit. Not only does this further his transient, unpredictable
poker style, but the hand also proves his competency, for he outmaneuvers
Nguyen for a large sum of chips. In such context, he exemplifies the unfamiliar,
because he, being the novice, brings forth a brilliant opposition to the highly-regarded,
accomplished Nguyen.
To further the inexplicableness of his poker ability is discussed by Phil
Ivey and Dan Harrington. “How can he possibly be learning the intracacies
and styles of all the players when he simply dozes between hands?,”
contemplates Ivey. As Harrington narrates, he explains that him and Ivey took
substantial time when not playing the hands to debate the brilliance of Farha’s
poker prowess. To no end could they agree on a possible solution. However,
Harrington, being the deep, philosophical thinker that he is, considers a
few possibilities in the contemplation of Farha’s esoteric behavior
between each hand. Upon deep consideration, he personifies Farha’s eyes
to reach an understanding of where Farha gains his understanding for his opponents.
While Harrington uses some obvious hyperbolization in his explanation, he
nonetheless sets forth an enigmatic understanding for Farha that intensifies
his eerieness. He henceforth elicits a certain fear from the reader, for if
Harrington’s creepy explanation was indeed true, then Farha’s
ability would be that of the supernatural. With that in mind, immediately
following his deep analysis, he himself engages in a hand with Farha. While
trying to gather a read on Farha, Harrington makes a disturbing claim: “I
searched deep into his eyes, and it seemed as though his entire visage was
simply a mask. The eyes seemed to have no depth, as though he had solid colored
contacts in his eyes. Such a countenance caused me to quiver and return to
my cards”. With that in mind, perhaps Harrington’s initial assertion
contains an element of truth. The latter exploits another aspect of the uncanny:
“an uncanny effect is often and easily produced when the distinction
between imagination and reality is effaced, as when something that we have
hitherto regarded as imaginery appears before us in reality” (Freud
221). Beyond comprehending and differentiating between the reality of his
metaphysical attributes, the simple fact of indulging oneself with the eyes
falls into accord with Freud’s, and likewise Poe’s, fascination
with the eyes when developing monstrosity. Freud employs this facet in his
example of “The Sand-Man,” while Poe exploits it in “the
Tell-Tale Heart”.
Beyond Freud’s essay on the uncanny, the story integrates several other
essayists. Mary Douglas and her notion of margins appear in several scenes.
Douglas emphasized in her essay “Purity and Danger: An analysis of the
Concepts of Pollution and Taboo” that danger lies within the margins.
Consider the scene in which Chris Moneymaker assumes the role of narrator.
For about a paragraph, he deviates from the hand being played on the table
to offer an analogy explaining a typical hand against Farha. He explains that
a hand in which many people are involved expresses and brings about a chaotic
experience. Moneymaker describes the table as a spinning gyre, with the community
cards being the pivot point. From the pivot point, the bet is spun in the
direction of the bet. He places the community cards in the eye of the hurricane,
while everything outside of them represent the margins. With that in mind,
the margins are precarious. To take part in such a hand is to place oneself
in grave danger. By drawing this analogy between the “chaotic hand”
and Farha, Moneymaker considers Farha’s innate ability capable of bringing
such anarchy to table simply by himself.
Finally, the reader is undoubtedly engrossed to an extent of nauseating disgust
upon learning of Farha’s cigarette habit. Like I mentioned, Binion’s
casino prohibits smoking in its facilities. So, how does Farha circumvent
the violation of this policy while still treating himself to a cigarette?
He doesn’t light it. If Farha put forth the effort to change cigarettes
in timely intervals, then such a habit might not disgust the reader so much.
Unfortunately, he keeps the same cigarette in his mouth for the duration of
an entire day and arguably for the entire tournament. Julia Kristeva commented
on a similar theme upon describing the horror of abjection. In her essay “Approaching
Abjection,” she says, “When the eyes see or the lips touch that
skin on the surface of milk. . . I experience a gagging sensation and, still
farther down, spasms in the stomach” (3). Imagining the gross taste
of a soggy cigarette would fall under the same categorization as the surface
of the bad milk; one of pure nausea and disgust.
Relationship between Nguyen and Farha and understanding it in
regards to a broader theme
In Thesis I of Jeffrey Cohen’s “Monster Culture (Seven Theses),”
he explains that “the monster is a cultural body”; the monster
is a metaphor for the culture in which we reside. Cohen’s theory of
this link between the monster and the symbol takes on the basis of my story
as a whole. To consider Sam Farha’s monster in its true effect, one
has to investigate the conceptual monster for which he symbolizes. Subsequently,
to better understand Farha as a figurative animation of the concept he bears,
it is crucial to fully understand the relationship between Scotty Nguyen and
Sam Farha, the poker players. From there, the more abstract facets of the
story begin to come alive.
Allow me to state the relationship now so that you can consider the relationship
between the two players in the context that I wish. Nguyen, upon close examination,
is meant to bear the qualities of the United States, while Farha upholds a
representation of terrorism. With that in mind, the first line of the story
sets the tone for the difference between Nguyen and Farha. Nguyen animates
himself as an arrogant, animated poker player. Conversely, Farha retains a
grave, unemotional stature. In the previous section of this analysis, I explained
the “uncanny” aspect of Farha in regards mainly to his unreadable
demeanor, and that characterization serves an important role in understanding
Farha in terms of his relationship to Nguyen. This immediate contrast emphasizes
Nguyen’s arrogance, an arrogance that many feel typify Americans today.
Continuing, the progression of the story brings about an aniticipated conflict
between Farha and Nguyen. The television broadcasters explain how Farha is
a rising threat to the current emminent powers. Following immediately is the
interview with Nguyen, where he expresses his utmost desire to eradicate Farha
in an expression that connotes unilateral war. This attitude resonates throughout
the story. Nguyen brings to this story an aggressive, competitive edge. In
a sense, he represents the ideology of neo-conservatism much like the Bush
administration. When asked what constitutes a neo-conservative, Scott Ritter
stated “anyone who rejects anything outside of their ideological framework”
(Pitt 67). This draws a close comparison between current adminstration, such
as Donald Rumsfeld and Dick Cheney in the regard that they seek war aggressively
without consideration of ideology outside their own (Pitt 67), and Nguyen,
who also wants to go to war (with Farha) at all costs.
Continuing in close consideration of Nguyen’s similarities to the United
States, one could refer to military primacy. With the fall of the Soviet Union
in the early 1990s, the United States became the prominent world power in
terms of military intervention throughout the world (Stu Ungar plays the role
of Russia in this story). This notion was especially solidified with their
role in the Middle East. Donald Emmerson posed the question “Who will
counterbalance the global primacy of the United States?,” and the answer
he decided upon shows a direct relationship between the United States and
terrorists. He felt that terrorists would be the biggest threat in coming
years, regarding the United States with increasing vulnerability to extremist
groups. Likewise, in the story, many players express their feeling that Farha
is simply there to pose a threat to Nguyen’s power. Moreover, the players
suggest that he also has the motive of making a showcase of his triumph over
such powerful states. These motives closely follow motives of the main terrorist
ideology. Demetrios Caraley explains these ideas and relationships: “The
techniques of terrorism are a way to get on television, to drain the good
feeling out of life and demoralize resistance. To undermine the credibility
of a regime that can not offer protection” (161). In the final hand
of the story, Farha fulfills this goal successfully in what can be viewed
as a parallel to the September 11th attacks. Farha “drained the good
feeling” from Nguyen by bluffing brilliantly and in turn embarrassing
him by revealing the seven, two off suit.
Finally, the most apparent and general aspect of this dualism can be found
when one links the uncanny characteristics of Farha to the overall nature
of terrorist groups. Farha, like terrorist groups, offer little insight as
to what they are planning. They present themselves as a mysterious, unpredictable
group able to attack any moment. As James Wirtz exclaimed, terrorist groups
may be “Planning the Unthinkable,” with attacks tantamount to
the ingenious bluffs and calls executed by Farha; poker plays that eventually
devastated Scotty Nguyen.
Work Cited
Caraley, Demetrios James. September 11, Terrorist Attacks, and U.S. Foreign Policy. New York: The Academy of Political Science, 2002.
Cohen, Jeffrey Jerome. Monster Culture (Seven Theses). Monster Theory: Reading Culture_. Ed. Jeffrey Jerome Cohen. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1996. 3-25.
Douglas, Mary. Purity and Danger: An analysis of the Concepts of Pollution and Taboo. London: Routledge, 1966.
Emmerson, Donald. Democratic Divergence: A Challenge to U.S. Primacy?. 2003. 30 Jan. http://www.ciaonet.org/pbei/csis/pac03/emd01/emd01.html
Freud, Sigmund. Writings on Art and Literature. Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1997.
Lavoy, Peter, Scott Sagan, and James Writz ed. Planning the Unthinkable. 2 vols. New York: Cornell University Press, 2000.
Kristeva, Julia. Powers of Horror: An Essay on Abjection. New
York: Columbia University Press, 1982
