Toss This Entry Into The Muck (A Poker Confession)

Have you ever mucked the winning hand?

If you say no, what you really mean is that you have, but of course don’t know it -- how would you anyhow, by definition?  At least, that is my theory.

I’ve even heard a story of Doyle Brunson mucking the winning hand against Jennifer Harman.  After his cards hit the muck, and as the pot was being pushed to Jen, he reached out and retrieved his cards from the discard pile (so the story goes), and turned them face-up.  He got pretty heated when neither the dealer, nor the floor manager, nor even Jen Harman herself would change the hand outcome to give him the pot.  (He later realized, the story continues, that they were correct in that decision and he was wrong for demanding the pot.)

I can think of two concrete times when I have mucked the winning hand – well, one of them was the tying hand – and I can’t possibly imagine anything that is more bone-headed.

One time was pretty extraordinary, and I will share it with you.

This was at Foxwoods in Connecticut, a no-limit table.  I had Ace/Nine of hearts.  I don’t recall the board cards, but my opponent made a straight on the river and I lost the hand.  I put my cards face-down in the middle of the table, having lost a very sizeable pot.

I then looked at the board again and saw three hearts!  In the split micro-second before the dealer’s hands could grab my cards, I snatched them back again (literally brushing her hand) and turned them face up.

The table was pretty boisterous about all this.  I’m not sure how many of you have played at Foxwoods, but imagine a bunch of East-coast guys playing poker and that’s pretty much what it is.  The same degree of patience and grace you find on the streets of New York City and Boston are present at Foxwoods.  So there was quite a bit of fussing about the fact that I had actually mucked the hand and was therefore not entitled to the pot at all.

Both the dealer and the floor manager who she called over said that since I had the winning hand, and since it hadn’t literally reached the muck pile yet, that I was entitled to the pot.  I didn’t say much of anything this whole time, since I wasn't certain what the casino’s rules were.  The only other guy who didn’t say a whole lot during this argument was the winner-cum-loser.  He didn’t say anything; but he did stand up and stomp around for about twenty minutes after the pot was pushed.  Boy, was he steamed!  He eventually came back to the table, played maybe one or two hands, and then cashed out and left.  I don’t think I made his day very pleasant!