Smooth Poker Game

Do you know what a “smooth” poker game is? Well, I didn’t either ’til I met up with Diamond Herb. Nobody could ever figure out where he got his nickname, since he never wore jewelry. Whenever he wasn’t around, we liked to call him Smooth Herb. There’s probably nothing that will mess up a friendly home game as quick as a law-and-order card player. You know the type. They would rather decide a pot on some silly technicality than on the obvious merits of each hand. This was Smooth Herb.
Sure, we all acknowledge the need for rules, especially at home games where disputes jump up and burn you out of nowhere. But guys like Smooth Herb take all the pleasure out of poker.

Now this was back in 1962 at a medium-sized pot limit hold ‘em game that went off every Friday night in San Antonio. The regular players on the Texas circuit liked this game because the host, Ken, had a really comfortable layout. Ken was about seventy, and soft-spoken, with a really active mind. Most of the players in this game were in their twenties or early thirties, so Ken naturally became sort of a father figure for us. This was the first time any of us had ever played poker against Smooth Herb. As we were plopping down in the super-soft chairs around the poker table, he shouted, “Wait!”
We all looked at him curiously. Wait for what? Let’s play poker. “How do you know who gets which seats?” he demanded.
“Son, you just take any seat that pleases you,” Ken smiled.
“That isn’t the right way to do it. You should cut cards for seats.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because, Doyle, that’s what makes a smooth game. If a game is smooth, it pays in the long run.”

Everyone thought this was rude of the newcomer, and a few of us grumbled about how this game had run fine for over a year without cutting for seats. But Ken said, “Let’s show our new guest a little courtesy.” So we cut for seats and that made Smooth Herb seem happy. He won the first few pots and then a player named Paul called a bet and raised $100.
“Are you calling me or raising me?” Herb wanted to know.
Ken interrupted, “The man said he was raising, son.”
“I know what he said,” Herb countered, “but his chips aren’t all the way in the pot.”
“Sure they are,” Ken explained. “There are the chips Paul called with, and there’s another hundred on the table in front of him. That’s a raise.” But Smooth Herb insisted, “Maybe we should draw us a circle ’round the pot, so we know when a bet gets made.”
Now there came a slight irritation in Ken’s voice. His soft elderly drawl cracked as he said, “Son, we never had much trouble before, figuring out who raised and who didn’t.”

Finally, Herb muttered to himself and yielded. He made the call and lost the pot. By evening’s end, he was roughly even. During the six hours of play he had complained often about rules that needed clarification. Here was a true stickler for detail.