What's the most errors you saw a player make in one hand?

[21forme]

Ploppy:
1. Splits 99 v 7
2. Gets a 2 on the first 9 and doesn't double
3. Gets a 5 (for 16) and stays.

Forget what happened on the second hand, but he lost both. 3 play errors on one hand!

[Paddler]

The game was Spanish 21, count was running at -31.5 (halves)

Ploppy:
1. Splits 22 v J
2. Gets a 4 on first 2 and doubles for a 12
3. Double-doubles for 17
4. Other 2 gets a 7, doubles for an Ace
5. Double-doubles for a 3 for a hard 13.

Dealer pulls 3,3,5 for a lesson to the ploppy.
Justice was served.

[WRX]

The most? That was me, working on slowing the game down. Different definition of mistake, though. Things like picking up a hit card and getting chewed out for it, etc.

[Anton Chigurh]

Pair of tens against a dealer 10:

1. Split first two tens
2. Draw ten on first ten, split those two
3. Draw ten on that ten, so split those - we're at 4 hands of ten now
4. Can you guess what card our hero draws on that first ten? Yes: it's another ten! He then tries to split that pair, but is thwarted by the cruel limitation of splitting only to four hands

For what it's worth, he won all four hands when the dealer busted a stiff. Cleaned up. I was sitting next to him, losing like crazy the whole night.

[blueefficacy]

Pair of tens against a dealer 10:

1. Split first two tens
2. Draw ten on first ten, split those two
3. Draw ten on that ten, so split those - we're at 4 hands of ten now
4. Can you guess what card our hero draws on that first ten? Yes: it's another ten! He then tries to split that pair, but is thwarted by the cruel limitation of splitting only to four hands

For what it's worth, he won all four hands when the dealer busted a stiff. Cleaned up. I was sitting next to him, losing like crazy the whole night.

Busted a stiff? Maybe he was AP!

[Anton Chigurh]

2. Gets a 2 on the first 9 and doesn't double

I have no problem with being detached from the idiocy of the ploppochracy, except for one play: failing to double down on an 11.

Every time I see a ploppy not double down on 11 against 2-10 up, I want to tap them on the shoulder and say "Do you enjoy making a charitable contribution to the casino? Do you feel they're a worthy cause?"

[Brock W]

In both cases above the dealer had a stiff hand. I'm sure I've been accused of being the worst player ever many times while facing a similar situation.

[WRX]

In both cases above the dealer had a stiff hand. I'm sure I've been accused of being the worst player ever many times while facing a similar situation.

Yeah, like the times I've stood with hard 7.

And that's all I'm saying about that.

[Anton Chigurh]

It really helps if you know the dealers hole card. I bet the plops had spasms when the dealer flipped his hole card after taking so many tens.

The day I realized that I was not a nice person - truly, not a nice individual at all - was the day I stayed on through a really negative shoe, flat-betting table minimum at third base, hoping for a chance to take the dealer's bust card.

Switching into the literary present tense, the ploppy at first has been "helping" me that evening, taking me under his wing, and through a combination of stern admonition and confidence-boosting encouragement, making me the best third baseman I can be! The mentoring role has taken its toll on him, however, standing his own 15's and 16's against 7, but I don't judge him for his sacrifice.

I hate to violate index play for the sake of messing with ploppies, but I am spared the need tto violate any religious conviction, because - Oh, looky here! - it's 12 against 4! 'Secret Agent Man' is blaring on the casino's music system as I say suavely to the cocktail waitress "Shaken, not stirred," and tap the felt for a hit. "Why, Hello, little 2!" it's 14 against 4 now, and there is some loud metallic honking to my right, but I pay it no mind, since I have not, to the best of my recollection, used this index in over 500 hours of play. But I am powerless - the mathematics is clear, and is not to be denied: "Hit the ___ker!"

Out comes a ten, and I extend my hand for the key to the ploppy's Aston Martin, casually informing him that he should not return to his bungalow at the resort this evening, as I will be making torrid, passionate love to his wife till morning.

Actually, my memory is a little fuzzy: that last part might be an embellishment. Also, the dealer drew to something like a 6-card 22, and our ploppy walked away with a win, but watching his face while I hit that 14 was like listening to a late Beethoven String Quartet while sipping high-end tequila.

No: Not a nice person at all.