Dead Money

Poker is math.

Piles and piles of math.

There are dozens of things to consider when facing a bet.

Range, position, stack size,

player history, outs, on and on.

Using all those factors, calculate a percentage,

-an average return on investment. -2,100 to you.

If you expect a return more than you invest, that's profit.

And all a good player wants at the poker table is profit.

Call.

Call. Turn coming.

- All in. - All in.

What separates the fish from the sharks?

-The good from the bad? Consistency. -How much?

16,500.

What you got, Buck?

The best live players, the killers at the table,

they know the math down to the tenth of a percent.

They study it, worship the math like a religion,

but they notice everything else too.

Tells, betting patterns.

-This is the human factor. -You got a king?

-You got a jack? -Is the player talking?

Is a jack good?

Maybe.

Are they feigning confidence?

If they appear weak, they're strong.

If they appear strong, they're weak.

Never believe what they want you to believe.

Leave that to the donkeys.

Okay. Let's gamble. I call.

Call.

- Eh... - Fold.

Shit.

Good call.

Seriously?

The hell? You, you're gonna call me with that hand?

Fuck, I had queens.

Ain't over.

Give me a red ten.

- River coming. - -Come on, come on, come on.

- Ten! - - But in any given hand, luck is always at play.

That's the beauty and the beast of this fucking game.

All that perfect planning can't account for...

That's a straight.

Nice river.

- I'll take it! - The river red.

Come, get to me. Hell yeah!

Are you guys seeing this?

Tell me you didn't bet the girls.

Get to it. Get to it, baby.

- Small, big. - Choke that bitch out!

- Andy, are you in? - Yeah, count me in.

Okay, family pot. Here's the flop...

What'd you lose, Jack? Big bet?

Who the hell bets the ladies' prelim matches?

Like I said, he never met a bet he didn't like.

No shit.

Jack. Want any more?

Look at him. Must've been a huge bet.

Yeah, okay.

20k behind.

You're dealing a big game tomorrow night?

Yeah. You playing?

Not if I run like this.

- It's Faizel's game, huh? - Yep.

-A lot of sharks over there. -But whales too.

- Great game. - Not really.

You're not just playing one hand, though.

You play thousands, tens of thousands.

That's why poker is a skill game.

Given a big enough sample size,

- the best player always comes out on top.

Police! Freeze! All you shitbags, stop what you're doing...

Oh, my God. Fucking asshole...

Heard there was an illegal poker game going on in here.

Get a new bit, man.

Fuck.

Who the hell is that?

- Just LT, Jack. - What are you having?

Clyde, I told you to warn me

-if that fuckhead shows up. -I can hear you.

Always with the funny shit.

Almost gave me a damn heart attack.

When you gonna drop that zero and get with the hero?

Nice, LT.

You want a seat or not, jackass?

Nah, I just came here to mess with you.

Gimme ten.

Hey, no guns at the table.

No guns. What guns?

Small, big. Action on you, Buck.

- Fight on yet? - Nah.

-Only featherweights. -Who you got? I got 3k on Fletcher.

- Kid's been on fire lately. - -I got ten on the Bryce kid.

- How much is this bet? - You got it.

You bet the openers? Damn, Jack, you need help.

Fuck you, LT.

I mean, there's the bottom of the barrel,

then there's fuckin' under the barrel.

Y'all need anything?

Let me get a Miller Lite, please?

- You make a tequila sunrise? - Bear shit in the woods?

-Coach? -Bourbon. Straight up.

-All right. Water, babe? Sparkling? -Yeah. Thanks.

Me? Four hundred.

You bet the main card?

I've gambled Brown III plus 1,200.

- Fold. Fold. - I'll take some of that.

I might be interested as well.

Bet it your own damn selves, you fucking vultures. I like my action.

Just you and me?

I'm...

...all in.

- Call. - -I'm gonna need more chips for this.

- Two pair. - Damn. Now we got game.

Thanks. I see it.

Good start.

-Luck be a ladyboy tonight. -Taking a leak.

These featherweights, they can't fight for shit.

- I never got the first card. See? - They can't hit!

They're like a couple chickens with their heads cut off!

Fuck!

Remember, strength is not measured in your arms and legs.

It's measured in the only muscle that matters,

the one between your ears.

You are strong and confident. You are steady and powerful.

You deserve to win.

It's natural to tilt when luck interferes.

You wait like the crocodile, emotionless,

ready for the perfect moment

when they're off their game, a gazelle at the water.

You explode out of the depths, crushing their neck in your jaws.

They thrash, you bite down.

The blood explodes down your throat.

You are a predator, a winner.

Damn.

I swear, these guys take one real punch,

they go down in a heartbeat.

Shit, I can knock one of 'em out! I could!

- That would be a no. - Blinds, please.

Excuse me? You don't think I could?

-Action's on you. -One punch. Easy.

No, Buck. You couldn't knock me out in one punch.

Hell I couldn't.

You wanna bet, Andy?

- With gloves? - Sure.

Eighteen-ouncers, if you like.

Ooh.

My whole stack says you can't knock me out in one punch.

Here we go.

Even money. No dodging.

Hands behind my back. Chin forward.

I'm still conscious, it's winner-winner chicken dinner.

You move, you duck, you forfeit--

Wait. Are you guys actually serious?

-Book it. -Hell yeah. Book it.

Hey, guys. Playing cards or what?

Quit worry about your rake. This is way better.

Not enough, Buck? He'll take more.

-That's a damn bet. -You want more action? I'll take Buck's side.

Tell by that neck he's got power. Plus his name is Buck.

-You're crazy. I'll book that. -I'll take it.

- I'll take all action. - No, stop that.

-2k, book it. -Done!

-I'll take a piece of that. -I'll cover that too.

-When are we doin' this? -Tonight. Let's find some gloves.

-Okay! -I got a pair at my house.

-Yeah! -Well, shit. Hang on.

Shit!

- You right-handed? - Uh-huh.

- He only autographed the left one. - -Okay.

Hell yeah! Let's go!

Whoa!

- God. - The fuck, LT?

I coulda just opened the back.

-Clyde, get behind the bar. -Yes, boss.

-You ready? -You got it, bro.

Get loose, get loose, let me see that kill face.

- Yeah. Glove. - Yeah! Get mean!

- You see that? Yeah, that's it. That's it. Chance it.

-You got this. Guy's a dweeb. Look at him. -Right.

Might break your jaw if he hits it right.

But you'll stay up, probably.

You'll be fine. His amateur career was trash.

Never had the goods to go pro.

-Are you fuckin' serious? -Yeah.

-Hey. Sack of flour. -What?

My dad always said, "If you're taking punch, you don't fight it.

You take it like a sack of flour."

-Thanks, Dad. Okay, I got this. -Right.

-Yeah! -All right. Look, Gonna hit him in the chin?

Gonna hit him in the nos-- the temple-- nose.

-N-- yeah. -No, no, no, no, temple, temple.

That's the off switch. Hey, hey... Get him good, baby. Go get him.

Come on.

- Here you go. 1982, baby. - All right. All right.

-Okay. Sack of flour. -Hey, hey, hey, hey.

- Fuckin' hit me. - All right.

Ready?