The Phil Ivey Edge Sorting Scandal: When a Poker Legend Sued the Casinos—and Lost

Phil Ivey is widely considered one of the greatest poker players in history. With ten World Series of Poker bracelets and over $30 million in tournament earnings, his name commands respect in every card room on the planet. But in 2012, Ivey found himself at the center of one of the most controversial gambling scandals of the modern era—not for cheating in the traditional sense, but for using a technique so subtle that courts on two continents would spend years debating whether it crossed the line.

The technique was called "edge sorting," and it would cost Ivey over $20 million in court judgments, years of legal battles, and perhaps most painfully for a professional gambler, his reputation for playing within the rules. This is the story of how a poker legend beat the house—and then watched the house beat him back.

What Is Edge Sorting?

Edge sorting exploits a manufacturing imperfection in playing cards. Due to the printing and cutting process, the patterns on the backs of cards are not perfectly symmetrical. If you look closely at the edges of many card decks, you'll notice that one long edge has a slightly different pattern than the other—perhaps a half-diamond versus a full diamond, or a subtle difference in the border width.

For most players, this asymmetry is invisible and irrelevant. But for someone with exceptional eyesight and the patience to track these patterns, it becomes possible to identify high-value cards from their backs alone. According to research published by gaming regulators including the Nevada Gaming Control Board, edge sorting has been documented in casinos since the 1960s, though modern manufacturing has reduced (but not eliminated) the imperfections that make it possible.

The technique is particularly powerful in baccarat, where knowing whether the next card is likely to be high or low provides a significant mathematical advantage. Unlike blackjack, where card counting requires tracking dozens of cards, edge sorting in baccarat can provide actionable information from just a few rotated cards in the shoe.

The Borgata Sessions: $9.6 Million in Winnings

In April 2012, Phil Ivey and his playing partner Cheung Yin "Kelly" Sun arrived at the Borgata Hotel Casino in Atlantic City. Sun was not a famous player, but she possessed a remarkable skill: she had trained herself to identify minute edge patterns on playing cards with near-perfect accuracy.

Before play began, Ivey and Sun made several unusual requests. They asked for a private gaming room. They requested a specific brand of cards—Gemaco playing cards, which were known to have particularly noticeable edge asymmetries. They asked to use an automatic card shuffler that would preserve the orientation of the cards. And most critically, they asked the dealer to rotate certain cards 180 degrees as a "superstition" for good luck.

The casino, eager to accommodate a high-roller of Ivey's stature, agreed to all these requests. What they didn't realize was that each request was essential to making edge sorting work.

Over four sessions at Borgata, Ivey and Sun won approximately $9.6 million playing punto banco (a version of baccarat). The casino's surveillance footage showed nothing obviously wrong—no marked cards, no hidden devices, no signals from accomplices. Ivey appeared to be simply a lucky high roller on a remarkable winning streak.

The Crockfords Incident: £7.7 Million Denied

In August 2012, emboldened by their success in Atlantic City, Ivey and Sun traveled to London to try the same technique at Crockfords Casino, one of the oldest and most prestigious gambling establishments in the world. As reported by the BBC, Crockfords has been operating since 1828 and counts among its past members several members of the British royal family.

Once again, Ivey made his requests: specific cards, automatic shufflers, and the "superstitious" rotation of high-value cards. Once again, the casino complied. And once again, Ivey won spectacularly—this time £7.7 million over two nights of play.

But Crockfords reacted differently than Borgata. While Ivey was still in London, the casino's security team became suspicious. They reviewed the surveillance footage, consulted with gaming experts, and made a decision: they would not pay. When Ivey attempted to collect his winnings, Crockfords returned only his original £1 million stake, refusing to honor the £7.7 million in winnings.

"Mr. Ivey's conduct was not honest. He gained an advantage by deception." — UK Supreme Court, Ivey v Genting Casinos UK Ltd (2017)

Ivey sued Crockfords to recover his winnings. The case would wind through the British legal system for years, eventually reaching the UK Supreme Court. The central question: Was edge sorting "cheating" under English law, or was it simply a clever form of advantage play—like card counting, which is legal though frowned upon?

The Legal Battle: Cheating or Advantage Play?

Ivey's defense rested on a crucial distinction. He had not marked the cards himself. He had not tampered with any equipment. He had not bribed dealers or used hidden devices. All he had done was observe patterns that already existed on the cards—patterns created by the manufacturer, not by him. The casino had voluntarily provided the specific cards he requested and had agreed to rotate them.

This argument had some merit. Card counting in blackjack works on a similar principle: the player gains an advantage by tracking information that's openly available to everyone at the table. Courts have consistently ruled that card counting is not cheating, even though casinos hate it. (For more on how casinos detect and respond to advantage players, see our article on how casinos track you.)

But the UK Supreme Court disagreed with Ivey's comparison. In its landmark 2017 ruling, the court found that Ivey's conduct crossed the line because of the deception involved. The key was not the edge sorting itself, but the manipulation of the dealer. By convincing the dealer to rotate cards under the guise of superstition, Ivey had "gained an advantage by deception."

The ruling was significant beyond Ivey's case. It established a new legal standard for what constitutes "cheating" in gambling, one that could potentially affect other advantage play techniques. Gaming law experts noted that the decision brought English gambling law closer to its American counterpart, which tends to view any manipulation of gameplay conditions as potential fraud.

The American Case: Borgata Strikes Back

While Ivey was fighting in British courts, Borgata launched its own legal assault in the United States. In April 2014, the casino filed a lawsuit in New Jersey federal court, seeking not only the return of the $9.6 million Ivey had won, but additional damages under the Racketeer Influenced and Corrupt Organizations (RICO) Act.

The Borgata case proceeded differently from the British litigation. Under New Jersey gambling law, which is governed by the New Jersey Division of Gaming Enforcement, the casino argued that Ivey had engaged in fraud by concealing the true purpose of his requests to the dealers. The automatic shuffler, the specific card brand, the rotation of "lucky" cards—all were presented as evidence of a deliberate scheme to deceive the casino.

In October 2016, the same month the UK Supreme Court ruled against him, Ivey lost again. A U.S. federal judge found that while edge sorting itself might not be illegal, Ivey's conduct in concealing his scheme from the casino constituted a breach of contract. The casino's rules required players to report any irregularities in the cards, and by exploiting the edge patterns without disclosure, Ivey had violated this obligation.

In July 2017, the court ordered Ivey to pay Borgata $10.1 million—the original winnings plus interest. The RICO claims were dismissed, but the core finding stood: what Ivey had done was not legitimate advantage play, but fraud.

The Role of Kelly Sun

Throughout the scandal, one figure remained largely in the shadows: Cheung Yin "Kelly" Sun, Ivey's playing partner and the true architect of the edge sorting scheme. Sun was reportedly the one who had developed the ability to spot edge patterns and who had identified which casinos and card brands would be vulnerable to the technique.

Unlike Ivey, Sun was not a celebrity. She was described in court documents as a professional advantage player who had been perfecting edge sorting for years before partnering with Ivey. Her involvement was crucial—while Ivey provided the bankroll and the star power to gain access to high-limit private rooms, Sun provided the technical expertise.

Sun was named as a co-defendant in the Borgata lawsuit, but she never appeared in court. As of the last public records, she remains at large, presumably continuing to use her skills in casinos that haven't caught on to her methods. This dynamic—the famous player taking the fall while the technical expert escapes—mirrors other gambling scandals like the MIT Blackjack Team, where the public faces of the operation often bore disproportionate consequences.

The Broader Implications

The Ivey edge sorting cases sent shockwaves through the advantage play community. For decades, players had operated under the assumption that as long as they didn't physically tamper with the cards or equipment, they were on safe legal ground. The courts' rulings suggested a more complicated picture.

Several key lessons emerged from the scandal:

Deception changes everything. Edge sorting itself was never ruled illegal. What crossed the line was convincing dealers to rotate cards under false pretenses. The courts found that this manipulation—this active deception—transformed advantage play into fraud.

Casinos have powerful legal remedies. Both Borgata and Crockfords demonstrated that casinos can recover losses even years after they occur. The legal resources available to major gaming corporations should not be underestimated.

High-profile players face greater scrutiny. Ivey's fame may have helped him gain access to private gaming rooms, but it also ensured that his wins would be closely analyzed. Anonymous advantage players might have flown under the radar; a ten-time World Series champion could not.

The Aftermath: Where Are They Now?

Phil Ivey remains active in professional poker, though the scandal has undoubtedly affected his public image. He has largely declined to discuss the cases in interviews, focusing instead on tournament play. The $10.1 million Borgata judgment remains outstanding, and the casino has pursued various legal avenues to collect, including attempts to attach Ivey's poker tournament winnings.

The Borgata and Crockfords cases have become standard reading in gaming law courses, cited as examples of how advantage play can cross into illegality. They've also influenced casino security practices worldwide. Modern casinos are far more skeptical of unusual player requests, and card manufacturers have worked to reduce the edge asymmetries that made Ivey's technique possible.

For the gambling industry, the cases reinforced a fundamental truth: the house doesn't just have a mathematical edge—it has legal and institutional advantages that can reverse even the most spectacular wins. As our coverage of casino jackpot disputes demonstrates, casinos have a long history of finding ways to avoid paying out when they believe something has gone wrong.

Was It Really Cheating?

The courts have rendered their verdicts, but the debate continues in gambling circles. Was Phil Ivey a cheater, or was he simply a brilliant player who found an edge the casinos hadn't anticipated?

Those who defend Ivey point out that he never touched the cards, never used any devices, and never received information from accomplices. Everything he knew about the cards came from patterns that the manufacturer had created and that were visible to anyone who looked closely enough. The casinos agreed to his requests voluntarily.

Critics counter that the deception was the problem. Ivey didn't just observe—he manipulated. He convinced dealers to rotate cards by claiming superstition, knowing full well that the rotations were essential to his scheme. This wasn't passive observation; it was active manipulation of game conditions through false pretenses.

Perhaps the most balanced view is that Ivey found himself in a legal gray zone that the courts ultimately decided against him. Edge sorting wasn't clearly illegal when he did it, but it wasn't clearly legal either. He took a calculated risk, and he lost—not at the tables, but in the courtroom.

The cases underscore how narrow the line between genius and fraud can be in the gambling world. The Roselli Brothers crossed that line with their identity fraud scheme. The MIT Blackjack Team stayed on the right side of it through pure card counting. Phil Ivey tried to walk the line itself—and discovered that the courts were the ones who got to decide which side he was on.

Related Stories: The MIT Blackjack Team | Casino Jackpot Disputes | The Roselli Brothers $37M Fraud | How Casinos Track You