All in the Game

Phil Ivey is the consummate professional gambler.  He plays for money, not fame.  He understands that in poker, the best player is the one who makes the most money.  Bracelets, "world championships," and all those other titles mean very little to him--at least when you compare him with many of his peers.  Ivey simply goes about his business and gets his money in good, whether he's playing poker or prop-betting.*

Ivey is very good friends with a lot of the people he plays poker against, even though they all battle each other for tens of thousands of dollars on a daily basis.  I never really understood how this could be.  I mean, I realize that theoretically it's possible not to take losses personally.  After all, we all play basketball or tennis against our buddies and remain friends afterwards.  But, in tennis, a house or two isn't at stake.  Moreover, you and I are not nearly as competitive as someone like Ivey, who clearly has something in him that drove him to the top of the poker mountain. As a result, we can probably stomach a loss more easily than Ivey.

Obligatory picture of Ivey chilling with maybe $10k in cash at his feet.

* * * * *

I'm enrolled in a clinic (real-world work for course credit) this semester, and I'm getting a lot of great experience representing clients.  The place where I work has a lot of client turnover, so I'm in front of a judge and across the aisle from an opposing lawyer frequently.  I'm typically in court on the same day each week, which means that I'm often in front of the same judge (and matched up against the same lawyer or two) every time.

My job as a lawyer is to advocate for my client zealously (within the ethical constraints promulgated by the ABA, of course).  This is theoretically quite simple: prepare diligently beforehand, make all your tenable arguments to the judge, fight hard for your client, etc.  I've found, however, that there's a tendency to pull punches when you're dealing with the same players over and over.  Why waste the court's time with a weak argument when you know the judge has almost certainly already made up her mind?  Why grill a probation officer in cross-examination when you know you'll have to deal with him next week?  Wouldn't you be better served preserving some good will for your next client, whose case's outcome is still up in the air?  In my limited experience, I think it's a virtual certainty that you would indeed be better served by "saving your ammunition" for those battles that could go either way.  This will keep you on good terms with the other attorney, who will maybe be more willing to agree to a favorable settlement in the future.

Of course, any reputed attorney will quickly point out that it's not a lawyer's job to serve himself.  He must serve his client, and it's clearly unethical to sacrifice Client A in order to help Client B.  Pulling punches will likely help a lawyer in the long run--if we understand "help" to mean "allow him to achieve a desired outcome as often as possible"--but doing so hurts the client, and that's what really matters.


If Ivey (the role model for poker players) can play poker against his best friends--doing everything in his power to cut their throats, take their money, and leave them talking to themselves**--then surely an attorney can similarly advocate zealously for his clients without worrying about the effect his fight will have on his relationships with judges, attorneys, and other repeat players.




*Favorite lines from that article, just in case you didn't click on the link: "From the 'something only a multi-millionaire could say' file, Ivey casually asked how much the first-place prize paid out moments after the win, genuinely unaware of how much he had earned."  Also, "[T]here's no telling how much Ivey will net from prop bets as a result of his bracelet win.  'It was over twenty dollars,' he said in typical understated fashion."

**paraphrasing a Stu Ungar quote (cite)