The last man standing, a chip off the old block, does an about face and abandons ship, despite having an ace up his sleeve, because all bets are off, so it's as useless as tits on a bull.
After all is said and done, it's as plain as the nose on your face that even a babe in the woods knows a bad hair day beats a dead horse, but you're barking up the wrong tree if you think a baker's dozen of bald faced liars will bet the farm, then blow their brains out because they got a bum steer from the big cheese before the bottom fell out of the market for wooden nickels.
They know there's a fast buck just around the corner, and that they'll be busy as one armed paper hangers when the fickle finger of fate pushes all the right buttons. Then they'll be running with the big dogs, in the clear and in the money, all downhill from there.
It boils down to covering your ass when you're caught with your pants down. Come hell or high water, you have to stay cool as a cucumber when you're a day late and a dollar short, and it's sometimes better to do a 180 rather than face the 800-pound gorilla.
That being said, even a stick in the mud can be a snake in the grass, so keep your eyes on the prize and your hand on your wallet.