Poetic justice at the 'Shoe

Another bit of justice handed down to a slow roller.  I’ve been at the table for an hour or so during the same session I blogged about here.  This ‘incident’ occurred long before the table got wild and crazy; the drinking was just getting started.  I had been playing with this guy who had been not talking much, but continually looking down at the board, looking at his opponent’s hand, and back, before eventually revealing his better hand to take down the pot.  He had done this around 2 times in the hour and seemed to really enjoy the effect it had on his opponents and the other players watching.  One other “habit” he has is if he’s last to act, he definitely waits for his opponent to show prior to showing.  The dealers are not really enforcing a last aggressor policy, and his opponents are uncomfortably showing, even if this guy knows he has the nuts.

From a slow roller point of view, if I had to guess, it was his time to shine – his 15 minutes of fame on the big screen.  From where I sat, if I were getting led into or raised by this guy, he was an “they always have it here” kinda player… i.e. nuts or damn well close to it.  Obviously the table hasn’t picked up on this player’s tendencies – people are still calling down his bets and by the end of the night (my night, at least), he has a mass of chips in front of him.

The hand I will share with you today starts on the river.  The action was inconsequential until the river, where the board read A x T x T.  The pot is maybe $60.  His opponent just led into him for $50 or $60.  He just called the river bet and his opponent flips over A 7 for top pair.  The slow roller does the routine: looks at his opponent’s cards, looks at the board.  Looks quizzical.  Looks at his hand.  Shakes his head in seeming disappointment.  Then proceeds to flip one card: a Ten.  He pushes the other card, face down, forward.

One of my favorite dealers there at the ‘Shoe [who happened to be dealing cards for the particular down] pauses for a few seconds, waiting for the slow roller to flip the other card which does not happen.  The dealer then proceeds to drag both cards forward and mucks them – one face up and one face down.  He says, “Sorry, that’s a fold.  You must show down 2 cards to win a pot,” and proceeds to reward the remaining face up hand with the pot.  Wow.  That’s cold.  Poetic justice.  Served cold.

P.S.  Turns out this guy is not from the U.S. – he’s Greek.  Not that it’s an excuse for slow rolling, but I know that in France, for example, the slow roll is an art form.  In retrospect, I don't think the player had any clue why he lost the pot - and didn't care to listen to an explanation attempted by a sympathetic player.  Finally, one more note: The only other time I saw a dealer muck the clear winner was in Delaware Park, when I wrote about it here.  Thankfully, it was another instance of poetic justice.