On this particular Friday morning, Twitter was a buzz with the rumblings of a new poker cheating scandal. I was immediately intrigued, ready to appoint myself the judge on the matter. I click on the video, ready to analyze every second of this hand:
Garrett, a poker legend, is playing a hand with Robbi Jade Lew, someone I do not know. I later learned that she is a new poker player. I later learned that her rich boyfriend was also playing at the table. Neither of these pieces of information bode in her favor. The camera flicks to different players chatting and fiddling with their chips. Garrett leads out the betting pre-flop and continues on the turn. Robbi proceeds to raise. Though I have watched many hours of poker, it was clear how different this table felt. Garrett was sitting there, godlike. He had the outs. He had the stoic face. He had the years and years and years of experience feeding him the correct advice. Robbi, across from him, had none of this. She had a high card. She had a couple of games under her belt. She was squirming about in her seat and attempting to use wordplay on Garrett, telling him how bad of cards she had, relying on reverse psychology to do the rest. Garrett saw directly through this. He puts her all in. This is where the scandal happens, at this moment.
I played poker with my childhood friends many times during the pandemic. I have realized, since then, that we were bad. We never cared. We played to have fun. This is not the same. Poker players now have all types of things like "expected value" and "equities" to consider at every moment of the hand. That is what makes them good.
Robbi makes the call. The last card is flipped. Garrett's outs did not hit, and he smiled it off as he flips his cards. She flips her cards.
"How many times are you going to let me do this to you?"
"Woah-uh-ohhhhh!"
The boys at the table let out these shocked-sounding hoots, as though they just witnessed Goliath fall to the ground from David's shot. The announcers let out a simultaneous "WHAT?" Garretts' eyes dart back and forth. From the cards to Robbi. From the cards to the other players. From the cards to Robbi. Everyone is stunned, except for Robbi.
I had, at this time, a strong inclination to say she was not guilty. It was a stupid call, no doubt. So? She is a new, rich player. It makes one think of rich people playing pickleball. They play all the time. They are bad at pickleball, all the time. They do not care. They are rich. She made a play that most of the time loses her a lot of money, but this time she got lucky.
I later watched the poker community react to this. Seemingly every big name commented on how strange this hand was. I watched videos breaking down the hand and explaining why she cheated. I eventually joined their side, believing she cheated. She might have had a buzzer. She might have known someone working at the casino. She might be a bad poker player. She might not be. I was done with it after a few days.
It is only now, after some time, that it is made visible just how perfectly this event captures 2022. One side screams of cheating, wanting her dead. The other side screams of sexism, making her a martyr. Screams from both sides. I, along with everyone else, have gotten all too used to this. It is easy to forget that there is a middle ground. There is also "I don't know." It is saying "I don't know" that brings me joy, now. It is a unique type of power anyone can possess. People prod for opinions, ready to cut in and say their own as if it is fact. It is events like this that remind me that I don't know. Everyone should be reminded of that.
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