The fluorescent lights of the underground cardroom hummed at a steady 60 Hz, but Elias heard it as a countdown. To most of the players at the table, poker was a game of guts, "soul-reading," and the sweat on a man's upper lip. To Elias, it was a beautiful, shifting system of linear algebra.
In his mind, a decision tree sprouted. He had an overcard and a royal flush draw. He calculated his —the mathematical share of the pot he owned based on the probability of his hand winning by the river. With 12 "outs" (9 spades for the flush, 3 non-spade Queens for the straight), he had roughly a 26% chance of hitting the best hand on the final card. Miller had shoved all-in for $400 into a $600 pot. Mathematics of Poker
The table gasped at the rarity—a 1-in-30,000-to-1 longshot. Miller slammed his fist on the table, cursing Elias’s "dumb luck." The fluorescent lights of the underground cardroom hummed