The Beauty of the Game

He switched from Hold'em to HORSE. It offered more variety. It was more fun.

One game in particular captured his imagination: Stud Hi/Lo. Razz and Stud were interesting too, but they felt one-dimensional. Stud Hi/Lo seemed to combine the best of both worlds.

And it wasn't hard! If you started with three low cards, you were in a commanding position.

He crushed the tournaments.

One evening, he was playing with a group of veterans. He played (86)3 aggressively and won a huge pot when, added to his low, he rivered a runner-runner straight. One of his opponents gave him a smirk.

What was that supposed to mean? Couldn't the old-timer handle the fact that someone who had only just started playing Stud Hi/Lo had already figured the game out?

But then the results stopped coming.

Variance, surely. It had to be variance.

Yet after bubbling a major tournament with (24)7 as his starting hand—losing to a measly pair of nines and failing to make a low—he stepped away from the tables and began to study.

He wanted to know how good Razz starting hands really were in Stud Hi/Lo.

Slowly, it dawned on him that he didn't really understand the game at all.

He devoted himself to learning. Gradually, he came to realize that he had been extraordinarily lucky during the early stages of his Stud Hi/Lo career. It wasn't that Razz hands could never be played in Stud Hi/Lo, but their value depended enormously on the situation.

The more he learned, the more he understood how little he had previously understood. He had only grasped a fraction of the complexity and fascination of the game.

Humbled, he returned to the tables.

Yesterday, he lost a hand to a young player.

His jacks-up were no good against the runner-runner trips the kid made on the river after starting with (38)6 and reraising against his exposed jack.

He gave the kid a smile.