On Ervin, a towering man who looks like a Harley might be part of his natural habitat, picks up his stack of chips with one meaty hand and places it in the center of the green-felt table.
"All in," he says.
One by one, the nine other Texas Hold-em players toss their cards toward Ervin's stack. The dealer scrapes together the previous bets and shoves them toward the big man with the shaved head in chair six. advertisement
Ervin flicks his two cards face down into the pile, his look offering no hint that he'd just nabbed the pot with a deuce and a four.
Luck is fine, but sometimes what you need to win at poker is a hefty dose of intimidation.
Ervin is one of 70 players competing in a regional World Poker Tour tournament on a recent Friday evening inside Club 52, the poker room at Cliff Castle Casino in Camp Verde. Each has paid $75 for $1,000 in chips, with winners at each table earning entry into today's regional final, where five players will qualify for the World Poker Tour national tournament at Foxwoods Resort Casino in Connecticut.
Poker has cashed in over the last year thanks to TV, as cable networks devote several hours each week to tournaments such as the World Poker Tour and the World Series of Poker.
The surge in popularity has been great news to guys like Ervin, 58, of Sedona, who's been playing poker for more than 30 years and relies on the game for income. Rookies are regularly bringing their bankrolls to the tables, where Ervin sees them more as opportunities than opponents.
Ervin and players like him can separate the pros from the pretenders after 20 minutes or so. The game of choice is Texas Hold-em, in which everyone receives two cards face down and must make the best hand among the five "community cards" dealt face up.
The amateurs have the most obvious "tells," a movement or twitch that gives away the strength or weakness of their hand. Some constantly peek at their down cards, plainly unsure of their hands or reach for their chips before it is time to bet, giving away their confidence.
After several rounds, experienced players can decipher what appears to be a nervous habit, such as shuffling chips or heaving a sigh. Even a slight change - a facial twitch or a slight hesitation after inhaling - can tell a pro all he needs to know.
Ervin likes to appeal to a rookie's genial side, knowing most new players want to fit in. Ervin engages in small talk that could lead to a valuable bit of information.
If the guy is on vacation with his family, he has likely budgeted a certain amount of money to lose.
"When I come across a guy who came to the table planning to lose," Ervin says, "he might as well just give me his money."
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Ervin cups his hands over his cards, wedges his right thumb underneath the bottom card and lifts a corner to reveal a 10. He nudges the card slightly to the left, revealing another 10. He flattens the cards and, as he has done after each deal, places upon them a well-worn 1942 Walking Liberty half-dollar.
Forty minutes into the tournament, seven players remain at the table, and Ervin is on a roll.
Pocket 10s are beatable, but Ervin considers his streak. His last hand was a pair of kings and before that an ace-king.
Each time he went all in. Each time someone called. Each time he flipped his cards to the groan of the player unfortunate enough to match his bet.
Ervin is tempted to push all his chips into the middle, but the only player who might challenge him has already folded.
He tosses a black $100 chip into the center. Two others throw in behind him.
The next three cards, called the "flop," are turned over - ace, 6 and 10.
"I've got all I need," Ervin thinks, and tosses another black chip into the center. One folds, the other calls. The next card, the "turn," is a 9. Another black chip. Another call. The last card, the "river," is a 5. Unless his opponent holds pocket aces, impossible given the way the man has bet, Ervin's the winner.
He flings two black chips into the center. Two more chips bounce in right behind, his bet called. Ervin flips his card and gathers the $1,200 pot.
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Knowledgeable players have been reeling them in like that for years, especially when riverboat hustlers in the mid-19th century dominated the game, according to Wikipedia.com.
Poker's roots are as shady as the game used to be. It may be descended from a French game called poque or the German pochen, though it also resembles the Persian game of as nas, which may have been taught to French settlers in New Orleans by Persian sailors.
Earliest mentions of poker occur in the 1820s, when it became the preferred method for cardsharps to separate fools from their money.
Poker spread as quickly as its variations, from wild card (around 1875, according to Wikipedia.com), to lowball and split-pots that became common around the turn of the 20th century.
Poker has long been associated with smoke-filled rooms that called to anyone with desire and a deck of cards. The game flourished under these conditions, whether it was the weekly Friday night game among friends or marathon sessions in Las Vegas poker rooms.
But the game has bloomed under TV's spotlights. There is not a cigarette or shadow in sight when network cameras are trained on the players in shows on the Travel Channel, ESPN and Bravo.
Poker's popularity is at an all-time high, says Anthony Curtis, who keeps tabs on the casino scene as publisher of the Las Vegas Advisor, an insider's newsletter.
"It is absolutely huge," Curtis said. "It's as big as anything else in gambling right now by a factor of 10."
Casinos are either adding poker rooms (Harrah's, Bally's and Imperial Palace) or expanding them (Palms, Luxor and Golden Nugget). They're drawing the younger, more aggressive players; people whose bets say more about their personalities than their cards.
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Almost an hour into the tournament, half the players at the table remain. Ervin hopes for cards to staunch the flow of black chips bleeding from his stack.
Since Ervin is responsible for the "blind" (a mandatory bet that rotates among players to stimulate action), he lobs two $100 chips into the middle just as his second card slides in front of him. He looks, puts his half-dollar on top and leans back. Each player checks and the dealer reveals the flop: king, 5 and 5.
Ervin bets $100. Two players fold, the other two call. The dealer flips over a 4.
Before it is his turn to bet, Ervin riffles his chips, the rhythmic clicking breaking the silence. He places the stack in front of him, bending his elbow as if ready to push the chips forward. The player to his right folds.
"All in," Ervin says without hesitation, thrusting his stack forward.
His only opponent peeks at his cards. Once. Twice. Then he separates his stack of chips and shuffles them together. Separate and shuffle.
He stops. Looks at his cards. And throws them on top of Ervin's chips.
"Fold."
"This is why I play the game," Ervin thinks as he rids himself of his deuce and 3.
People who are good at poker know how to play cards. People who are great at poker know how to play other people.
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With just three players left, there is no need for Ervin to cup his hands over his cards and peek. He bends back the corners so the small group of spectators can see his queen, 10.
Not bad. But not great.
If he folds, the blind comes to him on the next deal and he will be forced to put in $800, half his chips. The players on either side of him each are holding about $4,000, more than enough eliminate him within two hands.
"All in," Ervin says.
Steve Nelson, 33, of Goodyear, who's had many of the best hands all night, watches as Ervin leans back with a relaxed look on his face.
Got him, Nelson thinks, confident he's spotted Ervin's tell.
"Call," he says, tossing in three pink $500 chips and the balance in $100 chips.
Ervin flips over his queen and 10. He shakes his head when Nelson shows his king and queen.
Only a 10 will keep Ervin in the game. The flop is no help: 6, 6, 3. Nor is the turn, an 8.
"C'mon, show me that 10."
The dealer turns the last card - a 9.
Ervin leans over the table and shakes Nelson's hand.
"Great game; good play," Ervin says, heading into the casino to grab a bite to eat.
Fifteen minute later, shortly after James Adams, 59, of Mayer beats Nelson with two pair to win, Ervin is back at the table, this time for a live game.
After all, it's what he does.
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