Poker players weigh odds of getting busted

He was new in town, looking for a game, and got the e-mail address of another poker player off a Web site.

But when he showed up for the game in Mount Pleasant, they refused to let him in.

‘Nobody knew me, or could vouch for me, so I couldn’t play,’ said the man who asked not to be identified. ‘I had to leave, which was stupid, because if I was a cop, I already knew where the game was.’

But that was shortly after a group of poker players in Mount Pleasant had been busted, and tensions were running high among the hundreds, if not thousands, of people who play Texas Hold ‘em here on a regular basis.

But if things were bad then, players are positively paranoid now after Lowcountry law enforcement busted up a poker ring in Hanahan this month. So far, there have been nearly 200 warrants issued for 65 players.

Many games have been canceled, and the ones that continue are kept quiet, the table talk filled with nervous jokes — chatter about who’s going to rat them out, when the cops will come breaking down the door.

‘Most people are not playing right now; it’s really low-key,’ said Matt, who normally plays once or twice a week. ‘I’m not expecting to play anytime soon.’

The majority of games being played around the Lowcountry are nothing like the Hanahan game, in which one dealer said he, like the waiters, worked for tips as guys tossed around hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars in a night.

At most games, people play for a few bucks a game, risking no more than $100 or $200 a night. They’re looking for a way to unwind, a chance to drink beer and insult their buddies and throw the ace-high flush in the face of a guy who’s way too proud of his straight.

They know what they’re doing is against the law, but players interviewed by The Post and Courier — all of whom asked to be identified only by their first names or not at all — argue that it’s a silly law.

After all, the same law against games using cards and dice makes Monopoly, Uno and Go Fish illegal. And nobody has seen any preschoolers on a perp walk lately.

‘I see prostitutes roaming the streets of North Charleston, and I’ve heard that recently North Charleston was voted seventh in the nation for crime,’ one player said. ‘So I’m wondering why these (expletive) police are spending taxpayers’ money to arrest guys that just wanna play some cards. It’s ridiculous and needs to be stopped.’

The police say other crimes are not being ignored to track down folks committing misdemeanors, and they will not ignore complaints about poker games.

Charleston County Sheriff Al Cannon does not encourage people to break the law, no matter how old it is, but said he’s not going out of his way to bust up penny-ante kitchen table poker games any more than he’s looking to arrest grandmothers playing Go Fish with the kids.

They won’t look the other way if someone complains about a game, but police do have discretion. If they get a call about a small-time game, a deputy might simply tell the players to knock it off. If a fair amount of money is at stake, the players or game organizer might get a ticket, Cannon said.

And there was a fair amount of money on the table in Hanahan.

Cannon likened poker-playing to drinking and driving. The law says it’s OK to drink alcohol but the state doesn’t allow you to have 10 drinks and get behind the wheel. ‘There are limits,’ he said.

The game in Hanahan, Cannon said, was over the limit.

‘It’s an old law, but that doesn’t make it any less of a law,’ he said. ‘And if we get a complaint concerning a game of this magnitude, we’re going to investigate it and take appropriate action. Maybe in this more sophisticated crowd they don’t think it’s a crime, but in South Carolina it is a crime.’

The poker Martin Orlando Reyes

is accused of running out of his house certainly doesn’t match the description of most Lowcountry home games. The stakes were higher, the players often high- profile community professionals.

Although staff was not hired, one dealer, who would not give his name for fear that he might face criminal charges, said he worked for tips. On an average night, he could make between $300 and $600, maybe $1,000 on a banner night. Sometimes he played as well.

‘People need a dealer, and I have quick hands and can read cards quickly,’ he said. ‘I’m able to stay up for a lot of hours and I don’t have to go to the bathroom often. I keep the games moving.’

He said servers brought food and drinks around, and they too worked for tips. If the house took a cut, it was to cover expenses, not to make money.

The people involved were doctors, lawyers and other professionals, the dealer says. Some of the others were teachers, real estate agents, even a solicitor. The dealer says these were people who already had money and did this to blow off steam.

‘No one got rich off this,’ he said. ‘No one supported a lifestyle on this.’

And some arrested in the sting say that’s where Reyes’ game most closely resembles the average kitchen table poker game in Charleston: Nobody’s gambling to make a living; it’s just recreation.

‘If you want, you can find a game just about any night of the week,’ said another local man, who plays at least once a week. ‘For the most part, guys buy in between $80 to $200, give or take. Which means, on a good night, if you get lucky, you might walk away a couple hundred dollars in the plus. … This is just a game of fun. The money is just a way for us to keep score.’

Ben, a local young professional, says he and his friends used to play for quarters in the dorms at College of Charleston. He’s still playing, not too worried about the possibility of being busted.

‘I only play live games about 3 to 4 times per month, and the games I play in are not as big as the one who got busted recently,’ he said.

A fair number of folks feel the same way.

‘We play with the windows open, blinds up,’ said Teresa, another local player. ‘We don’t feel like we’re big-time enough to be worried.’

But others feel like it’s best to just cool it for a while.

Matt said

several of the people who have warrants out against them are folks he used to play with. He said some of his friends have jokingly asked why he wasn’t named, as if he had turned them in. In truth, Matt is a little surprised he wasn’t named.

The mystery behind how the police got the names of the poker players is one of the more popular

topics at tables

these days.

In poker, there’s a term called ‘pot odds,’ the complex mathematical formula that dictates whether you should call a bet. You weigh the odds of making a good hand against the payoff you are getting on your money — in other words, a $10 bet into a $100 pot is 10-to-1 odds. If the odds of making your hand are better than 10-to-1, that’s a good bet.

Right now, people are deciding the pot odds of playing poker in the Lowcountry are not worth taking the chance. Across the city, the cards are growing cold.

Reach Brian Hicks at 937-5561 or bhicks@postandcourier.com. Reach Glenn Smith at 937-5556 or gsmith@postandcourier.com.