You Wanted Proof? Here it is

There are two types of Replayers I dislike.

The fish/calling station/limpers/bingo crowd, whatever you want to call them, top the list. I’m talking about the ones who never raise, even with AA/KK/QQ, et cetera. They’re happy to let others build pots because it’s too hard to do it themselves. Imagine if everyone just limped through every hand and left their winning to luck. What fun. Simply put, I believe this type, whether they realize it or not, plays to validate their laziness rather than to take up a difficult challenge. As Don Henley sang on the Eagles’ single Victim of Love, “I could be wrong, but I’m not.”

Still, the do-nothings aren’t the focus of this post. It’s the second group I want to address, the ones who constantly complain that there is something wrong with the random number generator on Replay. It’s taken me several weeks, but I can now offer proof that there isn’t. Having tracked over ten thousand hands during that period, I’ve found that the results are pretty much what any decent poker player can expect. Below is a summary of the data collected.

You can derive a great many things from these numbers.

First, even without seeing which hands I play and at what frequency, I fold 61% preflop. That means I only play two of every five hands on average. No donkeying or bingo here.

Second, since I only see a flop 34% of the time, the math says I am winning pots before the flop at a 5% clip. So, again, I’m not sitting on my hands. I’m representing virtually all of the strong ones, and occasionally ‘misleading’ opponents with a few of the weaker.

Third, I’m folding 30% of the flops seen on the flop, another 13% on the turn, and 7% on the river. That’s half the flops I see in total. In other words, I’m not chasing very many draws. Meanwhile, I’m winning 9%, 4%, and 3% of my flops seen on each respective street. I can only do that by betting when I have a hand, maybe check-raising here and there, and bluffing occasionally, but the point is I’m engaged.

That leaves the fourth stage, the showdown, which is the one that readily demonstrates the Replay algorithm is not rigged or somehow less than random. I’ve divided my showdown hands into those where I have the better hand either on the flop or before, if there is no further action beyond the preflop betting.

With the better hand, I’m winning 69% of the time, or two of every three hands. That’s right in the sweet spot between a coin flip in which the stronger hand is 53-54% likely, to an absolutely dominant hand, which should take it down 87-89% of the time. Nothing suspicious there.

On the other hand, it’s very tempting to wonder, if opponents suck out on me 31% of the time, why I only return the favor at a 22% rate? The answer is simple, however. If I’m in a showdown, it’s either because I have a weak hand in a weak position (making a bluff too risky) and no one is betting, denying me an opportunity to fold, or I have a strong hand with little or no room for improvement.

For instance, maybe my AK has been coolered by KK, the flop is 8-5-2, and I don’t catch an ace on the turn or river. That’s only three outs, giving me an 18% chance to turn the tables. Maybe my straight is done in by a flush on the river, which, with nine outs, happens 35% of the time. A full house overtaking a flush occurs less often, but it happens, too. There are also those hands where you flop a straight or flush with middle connectors, and the villain either flops a higher one or hits a fourth card to make their hand.

If you’re anything close to a decent player, you will always lose more often with the lesser hand than your opponents do when you have the better of it. That’s just poker.

I’m sure someone will attempt to poke holes in the evidence.

You might think a good player should win more than 50% of their showdowns. The top touring professionals win between 49-54%. Maybe you’ll say I shouldn’t show down 34% of my hands. That just gives you more data, and ties into the proliferation of Replay villains who will chase any draw at any cost, but it’s also within the range (20-40%) of top players, so I’m fine with where I am.

Maybe you’ll suggest I have an unusual style of play. You’d be right if you’re comparing me to the plethora of passive players who have seemingly never heard the terms open, raise, c-bet, 3-bet, 4-bet, etc. Otherwise, I don’t know where you get the notion I might be some sort of Gus Hansen or Annette Obrestad, who play every flop with any hand. Look at my fold rate again. Compare how many hands I win pre-flop (542), on the flop/turn/river (551), and in showdowns (592). I think that suggests my game is balanced and fairly consistent, making me an ideal guinea pig for testing the Replay RNG. No, the fact is that I’m getting the results that my hand selection and betting dictate I should, within the margin of error for this still relatively small sample size, and so are you.

Again, the Earth isn’t flat, the Replay algorithm isn’t rigged or faulty, and I’m fairly certain Don Henley would agree. Poker is a cruel mistress. Either accept it and live with it, or find a more sympathetic pursuit.

I just had custard pudding.

I found it in there but thanks anyway.

Origin of “The proof is in the pudding”

The phrase we commonly hear today—“the proof is in the pudding”—is actually a shortened version of the older proverb: “the proof of the pudding is in the eating.” Here’s how it evolved:

:mantelpiece_clock: Historical Roots

  • Earliest form: The full phrase dates back to at least the 14th century, with the first recorded English usage appearing in William Camden’s 1605 work Remains Concerning Britain.

  • Meaning of “proof”: In older English, “proof” meant test or trial, not evidence. So the phrase literally meant: you have to eat the pudding to know if it’s good.

:test_tube: What Was “Pudding” Back Then?

  • Not the sweet dessert we think of today! Medieval pudding was often a savory dish made of minced meat, suet, grains, and spices, stuffed into animal intestines—like haggis.

  • Because food safety was questionable, the only way to know if it was edible (or deadly) was to taste it.

:scissors: Modern Usage

  • Over time, the phrase was shortened to “the proof is in the pudding,” which technically makes less sense but has become idiomatic.

  • It now means: you’ll only know if something works or is good by trying it out.

Well, mothers ask children how they know they don’t like something, usually asparagus, olives, or brussel sprouts, if they don’t “try it.” To try it, they must taste it. Thus, the meaning hasn’t really changed.

I suppose it hasn’t changed.

In the movies, prove it…

Cannot help but think of this classic scene.

Jack Palance was probably better than Nicholson.

They both shared a scene in Batman.

I have to relive that one now too.

Thanks for your thoughts.

For Entertainment Purposes Only