High On Poker

Back from Atlanta and my day trip to AC, I’m already thirsting for more pokery action. Yesterday, I found myself daydreaming about the good old Tuna Club days, when I could reliably find a game running on most days within easy distance from my home and office. Now, I hear rumblings of various new underground games, but none seem to have the convenience or familiarity that I’m looking for.

That leaves me to play online, which has been going fairly well. Last night was horrid, with an 0-6 run in SuperTurbo 6-person SNGs, followed by an 0-4 run in 45-person or higher Turbo SNGs. After that bad run (first, I had a decent run to cushion some of those losses), I decided to hang it up for the night, content in knowing that if I kept playing, I’d likely just be chasing my losses. Yes, online poker humbles me yet again. Still, I’m enjoying it for what it is, and I have had some other online successes lately, so yesterday was definitely the exception, and not the rule.

When I heard that wifey Kim wanted to spend Saturday with the girls, I pretended to grumble while I was also quietly texting my crew about a poker game or round of golf. Neither really seems to be coming together, so I’m trying to figure out my alternative plans. Am I possibly going to take a solo bus trip to AC for the day? Why yes. It’s looking more and more likely. Anyone care to join? I’m sure we’ll bump into Dawn there!

Until next time, make mine poker.

When Wifey Kim and I booked our trip to Atlanta (leaving on Thursday of last week) I never expected to take an extra day off. Once I reviewed my vacation days, though, things quickly changed. I’d been starved for live poker and the idea of a weekday trip appealed to me. Being a lawyer, though, I have certain responsibilities to both my clients and my employer. That mean weekday trips were not just rare  but essentially impossible. That is, until I figured I could tack a day onto the beginning of my Atlanta trip.

The plan was simple. I was going to bus it to AC, play for the day, and return early enough to get some sleep before my 7am flight to Atlanta. As the trip neared, things fell into place and Edgie contacted me about joining. I am always up for company and Edgie is a great guy with which to talk poker, so it seemed like everything was coming up Jordan.

The plan was simple. I had upgraded from a bus filled with sad, desperate people to a ZipCar filled with Edgie. I had never ridden in a ZipCar before and was amazed at the ease. For those who don’t know, ZipCar is a company that offers rental car subscription service. You essentially pay a yearly fee and then get cheaper rental rates with cars scattered around the metropolitan area for easy pickup and dropoff. Perhaps the best part is the fact that the price of rental, which is only slightly cheaper than usual car rates, includes a gas card (free gas!) and insurance coverage. For a guy like me without a car, insurance coverage is key. Most people can rent a car without getting insurance because they have a policy on their own car. Not me. I have to pay the exorbitant rental car rates or risk everything in the event of an accident.

We met at 8am and picked up the car, which was in a nearby garage. Edgie was able to access the car by swiping his ZipCar card over a reader on the windshield. The car was mostly clean, save for a Haagen Daaz ice cream bar stick in the door’s cupholder. The ride was easy, albeit with some traffic.

Our first stop was the Borgata, where we hoped to play the $120 tournament. When we arrived, the line for tournament wrapped out the poker room and down the hallway. The tournament was about 5 minutes from kickoff, and it became clear that we would not be sitting for another 30 minutes at least. I would’ve waited or played cash instead, but Edgie wanted to change it up and try the Showboat tournament. It was a bit cheaper, but who was I to complain. After all, I went from bus to chauffeured car and poker was poker.

Upon arrival at the Showboat, the 11am tournament was already underway and underwhelming. It was a glorified SNG, with no more than 3 tables playing. As it turned out, the tournament was short because of another tournament taking place in Showboat’s convention room, a $50,000 freeroll for frequent players. We decided to start with cash, and were immediately seated at a new-ish 1/2 NLHE table.

As we waited to buy chips at the cage, I noticed a familiar face behind us. It was none other than Bacini Mary. Its gotten to the point that I’m no longer surprised when I bump into an NYC degenerate in Atlantic City, but I still didn’t expect to see anyone in the middle of a Wednesday afternoon. If Bacini was nearby, Dawn was sure to be as well, since she is the patron saint of inappropriate gambling hours. We found her at a 1/2 NLHE table. I had assumed that they were there from the early morning, but I later found out that they were at the Showboat for the $50k freeroll, having amassed too many hours at the table for me to comfortably announce it here. And to make matters worse/better, by the time they sat at 1/2 NLHE they had less than an hour before the freeroll. Degenerates!

Edgie and I made our way to our table. I didn’t take any audio notes, mostly because what little was worth remembering was just tragic. It was a decent-enough table. Early, it was a bit tight, but a guy joined the table in the 7 or 8 seat (I was in the 3 seat) and began calling with reckless abandon. He was a white guy, probably of Italian descent, in his 40s, with dark hair and a baseball cap that was likely a free handout or for a company he had worked for. He had on an ill-fitting tan jacket and generally non-descript clothing. When he started calling like a madman, my mouth began to water. He was the ideal guy for this table. His loose play meant that the other player woudl hopefully loosen up and his calling-station demeanor meant that a big hand could easily get paid off.

When a Player Like That starts to win hands, especially with improbable cards, I am instantly elated. The less forward-thinking grumble about how the donk across the table is playing any two cards and hitting. But the player looking for a profit only sees a pig being fattened up before slaughter. A prime example: A few players limped, a mid to late position player raised, the Player Like That called from one of the blinds. The flop came down A99. The Player Like That eventually won the pot…with 92o. Ridiculous!

Unfortunately, the problem with Players Like That is that sometimes they refuse to cool off when you ask them politely. I ended up losing several pots to the guy when I kept ending it second-best land. I recall one hand in particular where I raised preflop with AKs to $12 or so. Of course, a Player Like That is going to call out of one of the blinds, as did several other players. The flop was K98, and he bet out. I called, expecting him to have anything. I figured I was ahead of most of his range. He bet on the turn and I called. He checked on the river and I made a value bet. He called and showed 89o. DOH! Also, LEMON, et al.

I don’t remember many other hands. At my lowest, I was down around $350. Very late in the session, I won a pot with a set, and eventually walked away down about $226. It was annoying, to say the least, and I could tell that my frustration was going to be working against me, so when I saw the 2pm tournament starting, I decided it was a good excuse to walk. I literally decided that I would be better off playing the cheapo $65 tournament than continue down the ugly path that a Player Like That had set me upon. I still didn’t think I was playing bad, but his luck was not running out fast enough for me, and I didn’t want to overdo my targeted play, especially against a guy who had Lady Luck giving him a handy under the table.

Edgie and I bought in for the tournament and took our seats at different tables. My table was full of mostly older guys, with a few exceptions. I mostly kept out of the action, as one player in particular showed himself to be Another Player Like That. This guy looked remarkably like a comedian from the recent season of Last Comic Standing by the name of Jonathan Thymius (picture inserted). In fact, if I was there again, I’d probably even ask him if he did comedy. Lord knows he played like it was a joke.

The Thymius look-alike had also gone on a string of winning hands, while I sat back and thought I was building a tight image. When blinds were up to 100/200 (10k starting stacks), I decided to make a move. There were a slew of limpers, so I raised to 1000 hoping to pick up the blinds with Q7c. I only got one call, Thymius. He was saying earlier how he had to keep playing his rush, so I figured him for any two cards.

The flop came down 9T3. He checked and I decided to continuation bet for 2,000. He called. The turn was a Queen, surprisingly. With top pair, I felt a lot more confident when he checked to me. I bet 5,000, which was a huge sum at this point in the game. He flat called. The river was a King. He checked and I checked. He then showed QJo for a rivered straight, although he was ahead of me the whole way. At the time, I was thinking, WTF is he thinking calling me on the flop for 2k, but now I see the open ended straight draw. Really, it was my bad. I chose the wrong moment to make a move and I left myself crippled as a result.

With a little more than 2k left, I ended up pushing all-in from UTG with QTh, another pretty awful move that I had justified by the fact that the blinds were 200/400 and it was “now or never.” A kid in MP woke up with AA and I was out.

I met up with Edgie who was sitting right next to the Player Like hat from my first table. He had decided to play the tourney too and eventually busted Edgie, with Edgie’s KK vs. his AA. Lady Luck’s hand must’ve been tired by the end of that stretch.

We returned back to cash games where I did my best to dig myself out of the hole. I should mention that all the while, I was actually having a great time. I’ve mentioned it here before, but sometimes, when I injure myself, I actually laugh pretty hard. I can’t help it. It’s as though the endorphines meant to sooth the pain are just getting me high. I actually love it, to tell the truth, although I’m not one to intentionally bruise myself. Well, much like that scenario, I found it best to simply laugh through the pain of my losses. At the first table, I was joking as best I could with the Player Like That. At the tournament, I was friendly with the table and didn’t make a big deal when I busted. When I went to the cash game after the bustout, I was back to having fun.

I sat down in the 1 seat and quickly made friends with the big white dude with blondish brown goatee on my immediate left. His girlfriend sat half-heartedly behind him as he tried to make his nut. He was more than happy to tell me about the table and who was playing like what. It helped me get up to speed and also offered me that buffer of friendship that can come in handy when you have a blind-vs-blind confrontation. I began to grind my way northward after taking an initial $50 hit. I continued to climb as I joked with most of the table and kept things light and friendly.

Once again, I don’t have hands, so my apologies.

Eventually, the big guy left and was replaced by a small, older woman with short-cropped blonde-white hair. She was having trouble reading the boards so I offered to help, reading the boards when she needed it. I offered my seat, but she said that she wouldn’t do that. The last time she did it, her old seat went hot and she missed out on the rush. As we chatted, I learned that her eye problem was related to chemotherapy treatments. I responded, “Really? I just thought you had a really hot haircut.” Yes, I was sorta flirting with the old lady. I know she appreciated it and it was fun to hang out and futz around. Across the table from me in the 4 or 5 seat was a black guy who my prior neighbor informed me was a calling station moron. The guy was in his late 50s, probably, and was having a fine old time, laughing it up as he admitted, “I’m just calling this for the hell of it!” He was a lawyer and I cringed when Edgie offered up that I was a lawyer too. I thought he got the memo that for the day, I was to be a freelance cartoonist for the New Yorker. Regardless, the black guy and I hit it off. To his immediate right was an old white guy of probably 60+ years who was winning pot after pot from the lawyer. He got in on the fun too, and the three of us were chatting back and forth. Meanwhile, Bacini Mary had joined the table in seat 8 or 7. Her an I tussled in a few hands.

In one, she raised preflop and I called with something like JTs. I hit a Ten high flop, but folded on the turn when I realized that Mary, of course, had an overpair. She always has an overpair. I swear, I knew it preflop, but I couldn’t help myself. I got that money back and thensome on a flop of JKJ when I held KJ. NOICE! She was my only customer, and helped me lock in a bit of profit.

After that, things were pretty dry. I wasn’t getting good cards and so, I eventually saw my profits dwindle. At about 6pm, I decided to call it a day. I thought I was up about $76, but my stacks were jacked up and I learned afterward that I was actually only up $56 at that table. I lost $20 by misstacking my chips. Damn!

Edgie and I hit up the buffet after we learned that a few hours of play on a Monday or Wednesday earned you a free buffet comp. We loaded up on dinner and hit the road, eventually arriving home around 10pm.

The trip left me down $235, $170 from cash and $65 from the tournament. But I was laughing most of the day and I felt like I did what I could. Granted, the tournament play is suspect, but that aside, I felt most of my play was decent. I just didn’t have the cards or luck I needed.

Until next time, make mine poker!

A long while ago, I opined about the metamorphosis from poker newbie to poker player with an emphasis on the type of media we watch.  For me, I first got into poker through TV. After a while, when I wanted to learn more, I began to read poker books. Then it was online poker and interactive blogs and the like. Eventually, the TV shows got repetitive. Then the books got boring. It just felt like instead of taking in media about poker, I should be playing it. In fact, that was the major obstacle. I’d watch 2 minutes of poker on TV and immediately want to play, so I’d hop online. I figured that watching poker on TV was a thing of the past for me, like a kid who had his training wheels removed.

Well, life is all about cycles, and it seems I’m back on the televised poker bandwagon after basically neglecting TV poker for the better part of at least 3 years. The WSOP coverage on ESPN has been surprisingly strong, to me, although granted, I barely watched the coverage over the last two years.

The main things that attract me are:

1. The relatively limited scope of the program. It was ok a few years back when each episode was another preliminary event, but after a while, it felt like each episode was, well, episodic. It didn’t tell an overarching story, so I felt like I could miss an episode and miss nothing. It was cool that they used to show more non-NLHE events. I wish that could happen now, specifically for the Player’s Championship, the 8-game mixed event sporting the $50,000 buy-in. The popularity of the top pros would, hopefully, compensate for the fact that the game is not NLHE and it could potentially open up even more players to non-NLHE games. But, barring that, a focus on specific events with more opportunity to tell a full story has been refreshing.

2. The wide coverage per day. I’ve already seen the first four day-ones of the main event, and each episode includes what appears to be in depth coverage of the two main tables, together with special hands from the floor. The two main tables usually sport one big name apiece, with Matusow, Moneymaker, Gavin Smith (!), Cada and Darvin Moon (why?) getting top billing. There were others too, but those are the ones I recall most readily. Meanwhile, if Chau Giang is involved in a big hand on the floor, the action jumps to Chau so you not only get to follow some key tables, but you get to see everything. It really gives a better impression of the sheer scope of the WSOP Main Event.

3. More Stats. I’m not generally a stats guy, but in poker, stats are extremely telling in a way that random hand selection by an editor is not. For instance, Darvin Moon seemed to be playing too many hands, with one hand in particular standing out when he called a raise with A4o preflop. Later, he attempted an ill-advised all-in re-raise bluff with AJ or A9 (I don’t recall exactly) on an all under-card board, only to get caught by an overpair and win via suckout. Those hands alone would suggest that he was donking around and playing too many hands, but then Moon’s stats were shown and his VPIP (percentage of hands played voluntarily) was below the table average and rather low. So, the hands chosen by the editing staff showed a wildman, but the stats showed something different. As bad as those plays were, if you were to accept that Moon had established a tight image or was generally playing tight, the selective aggression may not have been as stupid as it first appeared.

4. Finally, hand selection. Specifically, the hands selected to be shown on TV. Thanks to technology, whenever an all-in confrontation is shown, I can just fast forward to the end. I don’t have to sit there for 60 seconds waiting to see the turn and river in a hand where there is no more poker left to be played. Still, those types of hands often dominate poker broadcasts, likely because that’s when players bust, which is always interesting, and that’s when unlikely suckouts occur, which is also TV-worthy. But its also terribly boring for someone who wants to actually watch some damn poker. I’m more interested in watching Moon’s face when he flopped the wheel with his A4o (I actually rewound after they showed his cards at the end of the hand to watch his reaction to the flop) than Moon’s patience when he is all-in with two overcards with his A9o against an overpair to the board. In one scenario, we can learn about how a poker player handles a great flop and incorporate that knowledge into our own game. In the other, we simply wait while a delay in the turn and river falsely builds suspense for a tournament that already took place a month ago.

So, kudos to the guys who put together this year’s coverage. I’m actually enjoying watching poker again.

Until next time, make mine poker!

I’ve been involved in some emails from a couple of poker players and recently, I received an email that really got me thinking of the existentialist side of the poker world. The email was initially about dealing with downswings, but it got me thinking of another topic, namely what makes a “great” player and how that coincides with the land of professional poker.

The basic question that I cannot seem to answer is: If a poker pro is broke, is he still a pro?

In a larger sense, the question expands to: If a decent number of the well-known poker pros are actually broke or make the majority of their money from something other than poker, then are they still pros? (Let’s assume that pro = a player who earns a comfortable living playing poker).

And then: If the big names are actually broke and playing on others’ dime, then what is there to strive for?

These thoughts cause a cloud of doom to appear over my head. After all, how can I wish to pursue a field where the elite are often actually failures. Guys like Mike Matusow and Gus Hansen are constantly rumored to be broke (with some actual confirmation from time to time). Jean Robert-Bellande is another example, albeit one that embraces the lunacy of playing high stakes while broke. Sure, there are true success stories like Phil Ivey and his $18M in winnings on FT, but arguably, poker is an afterthought, financially speaking, to a guy like Ivey who probably makes most of his money from his FullTilt affiliation and other ventures.

Now, I suppose there are a myriad of online guys who might qualify as a pro who made it on their own and continue to do well, but I don’t know that much about the online poker player scene, and more importantly, that’s not the goal I aim to achieve. Plus, online poker has been around for all of maybe 10 years or so, and certainly less than 15, so who is to say that the big time online poker player is anything but today’s flavor of the month, or a guy who just happens to be extraordinarily lucky. Plus, even from our own little poker blogging community, there are examples where people show their wins but not their losses, or show their successes but omit that their volume is such that a big win mostly offsets their losses. If you play 30 tournaments a day and final table one a day, isn’t that the same as me playing one a day and final tabling one per month? “Success”, much like with guys like Matusow and Hansen, is not always what it seems.

I can acknowledge that there are true success stories out there. Doyle Brunson is an easy and quick example. I think Durrr is a prime candidate from the online world, albeit one where the staying power must still be proven. But I don’t count the self-made millionaires like Jamie Gold or whoever the WSOP ME champion is on any given year. That is not a success story, at least not the kind I’m looking for. That is a lotto story. That’s a luck day story, or an amazingly skill-filled day story. But millions of dollars for one day’s work, while a success financially, is not a poker career. It is not something attainable by everyone. It is attainable by a very few people per year who had good days at a particular tournament, and often is never attained again by those same people.

My quest is not about money, per se. It is about the quest for greatness. It is about being competitive and being the best there is.

Its just a shame that there is a dawning realization that most of the success stories are false or short-lived. Why strive to be top of the mountain when its a mountain of lies and disappointment? Why strive to be the best when the best is bullshit?

Oh, and lest anyone get confused, this rant is not going to change the fact that I will likely dabble online tonight and will definitely be playing in AC on Wednesday. I may be suffering a crisis of conscience about what it means to be a great poker player, but I am dead set on one thing. I love poker.

Until next time, make mine poker!

I’ve been dying to play live poker lately. This weekend, though, was an utter fail.

With homegames rare and a recent rash of armed robberies in the underground poker scene, the options in NYC have really dried up.

I had attempted to arrange a homegame at my place, a 1/2 NLHE affair, with people from a variety of groups so that it would play more like a casino game than a home game. Alas, although I had 9 potential players (Maybes and Yesses) by Thursday, come Friday night, that number dropped and I finally pulled the plug on the game on Saturday. In the end, I was reminded about how annoying it can be to host a game (not as a result of the players, but as a result of the whole organization thing).

Frankly, in the past, I didn’t do well at my home game because of the distractions. If someone spills, its your job to get them the paper towels. If the doorbell or phone rings, that’s you, buddy. Then there are the less tangible distractions, like that feeling that, as host, you are responsible to make sure everyone is having a good time.

Once the game canceled, I chatted briefly by text with ASG, a reader and now real-world friend. ASG was considering an AC trip, but the weekend Jersey Shore traffic concerned me. We considered Foxwoods or Mohegan Sun in CT, but the bus service out there is not quite as plentiful as I would have liked, so I finally resigned myself to playing online.

Online poker actually went fairly well. I placed 2nd in a 45 person SNG and then won some smaller SNGs. I had discussed recently the possibility of focusing on the online cash games, but when its time to play, I always find myself leaning toward tournament poker online. What can I say? There is something about the beginning-middle-and-end of tournament poker that I love, and the fact that I could win 10x my money by placing 2nd isn’t too shabby either. Plus, a man can only take so much microstakes cash games before he feels like he’s sitting around the kitchen table playing for nickels and dimes (literally). At least I finally got myself to purchase Holdem Manager.

Although my online bankroll grew over the weekend (and last night), my first true love remains live poker. Since I haven’t had a chance to play much, I’ve made it a point to put forth more effort. I must admit, my renewed vigor is directly related to my poker spreadsheet. I took a look at my numbers since 2007 and found that I have earned about 2x the amount I had in my head. That blew my mind and helped me really conceptualize how much money I could potentially make if I played more often. It also reassured me that this poker hobby is not just a hobby but a money-making venture that has significantly and positively affected my and wifey Kim’s lives.

So, what’s a man to do? Next Thursday, wifey Kim and I are flying down to Atlanta to visit her friend. From what I’ve gathered, there are no legal poker venues in GA, so I’d need to find my poker elsewhere. Since I had more days off than I expected by this time of year, I opted to tack on another day of vacation to the beginning of my trip, so next Tuesday night and/or Wednesday is poker time!

The plan, right now, is to head to AC by bus either Tuesday night or Wednesday and play as much as possible before I have to head back to NYC Wednesday early evening. The next day, I’m up at the crack of dawn and heading to ATL.

I’ve also set up some future unexpected poker dates. My mom is turning 60 this year and asked that I save her birthday for her. No problem there. It didn’t hurt either that her birthday is a Monday, and since I am taking off, I can make a Sunday-night trip to AC or PA or CT if I so desire.

After that, Christmas in AC is the tradition, something near 10 years running now. My birthday on December 11 is right smack dab in the middle of the WPBT Winter Gathering (for non-bloggers, a private poker tournament in Vegas arranged by and for poker bloggers). I’ve gone each of the last three years, but this year, I’m sitting it out. I’d like to go, on paper, but I think 3 years away from home without my wife on my birthday is enough, for now at least. That said, maybe a more local gambling trip is in my future.

It’s tough having to carve out time and dates for live poker, but I realize that as I get older, these opportunities will actually get less and less. It’s to the point that I would seriously object to moving anywhere east of NYC because that would add an extra hour or more to any poker destinations. Hell, I keep hearing of new poker destinations and my mind keeps wondering what it would like to live in Bumblefuck, PA or Oldsville, FL.

So, poker poker everywhere and not a hand to play.

Until next time, make mine poker!

It seems at least a couple of people are interested in the Broke -Ass Cash Game Challenge, but there are some quibbles about some of the rules. Well, rather than respond in comments, I figured I may as well mention it here.

One of the major questions was how we would track play. Jamie from Wall Street Poker did a similar challenge involving live play, but it suffered due to the fact that a particular competitor was able to put in more hours. Edgie also suggested that we track the amount of hands played and profitability per hand in order to determine the winner of the prop bet. Someone else suggested we do it based on win rate per hour. And while I can understand the sentiment, I have to argue against such measurements.

The easiest way to do this is to simply make it total money won. While this does not account for the amount of hands or hours played, I would prefer those aspects of the game to be decided by the individuals. If you win a lot on day 1 and want to sit back for the rest of the time period, I don’t really care. If you are way behind and want to cram in the end, so be it. The goal, after all, is to build my bankroll through micro stakes while making the micro stakes somewhat bearable. (Side note, while PokerMeister did inspire this idea, I don’t 100% agree with his goals for me in this challenge. I’m not so concerned with mastering multitable play as much as I want to build the roll the old fashioned way — multitabling will happen, though). By adding an hourly rate or win/hand rate, suddenly the emphasis is more on record-keeping then on the game itself. Also, win/hand would require the purchase of tracking software and I wouldn’t want any of my competitors to buy $80 software for a $.05/.10 NLHE challenge.

So, let’s keep this easy. Even if the bet has to be smaller, I’d rather just keep it as, you play and I play for a month or two weeks or whatever and then we compare the end result. KISS. Keep it simple, stupid.

Now, Edgie mentioned possibly playing $5-max buy-in tables, and to that I say, HELL NO! Last night, I decided to experiment for a bit at .05/.10 on PokerStars. It was a 6-handed table, and I was in the CO with A8o. I had joined the table about two or three orbits ago, and had already noticed that I was getting a decent amount of respect for my raises, so I decided to play the A8o hand. I don’t remember all of the details, but three spades flopped (I didn’t have a spade), I bet in position and got only one caller. The turn was a blank and the one caller checked. I bet $.70 into the $1.10 pot. I kid you not, while I waited for my opponent to fold, I felt that thing that I love most about the game: the High. The High on Poker. My heart sped up. I stared at the screen hoping that this fucktard would fold, while adrenaline raced (well, trickled) through my system. Finally, he folded and I let out a sign of relief. I then realized that I won something like $.65 from that pot. $.65! I remember thinking, “Really? REALLY? All of that for .65? WTF am I doing!?”

I suppose that story illustrates two points: (1) at these micro stakes, the game can still be exciting, and (2) but that excitement is diminished once the real world value of money is considered.

So, that’s all to say that while I will try to stomach .05/.10 blinds for this prop, I don’t think I can bear anything less. Sorry, Edgie.

Finally, let’s be clear that while I initially stated we should stick ot $10-max tables, I really mean $.05/.10 blinds. I don’t care if it is deepstack or not at that level. I don’t care if you buy in short. The blinds are the micro part that I am focusing on.

So, let me throw out the proposal once again, with some more details:

1. The competition can be heads-up with me, or as part of a pool with other players. If you are interested in either, let me know which one. Obviously, I can play multiple heads-up challenges at the same time, and I would be happy to do so.

2. The competition will be .05/.10 NLHE, 6-handed or full ring games, but no heads up tables, because heads up is a fundamentally different game.

3. The competition will last for a certain time period, most likely 2 weeks, to allow brevity but some play.

4. Players only need to track wins/losses at .05/.10 NLHE games. The amount of hands or hours played need not be tracked.

5. Halfway through the challenge (or potentially more often if the challenge is longer than 2 weeks) each competitor must give their current total wins/losses. Blogging about play and progress is encouraged but optional.

6. The prop bet will be for a minimum of $20. This will be worked out once it is clear whether we are dealing with heads-up challenges or a pool of competitors.  If it is a heads-up challenge, perhaps I would consider $10, but only if I already have at least $20 in action elsewhere.

So, are you still interested? If so, leave a comment or email me (highonpokr AT yahoo).

Until next time, make mine poker!

I swear, this is going to turn into the PokerMeister Apprentice blog, because I find myself taking inspiration from the Meister more and more.

Meister pointed out that I should stop playing the MTT lotto in favor of cash games, but I countered with the argument that my fragile ego couldn’t stand to play micro stakes NLHE online and my bankroll can’t withstand the variance of the higher-stakes games. That’s where YOU hopefully come in.

How can I play micro stakes and still make it worth my time? Prop bets, of course. So, who is in for a new challenge, the Broke-Ass Cash Game Challenge!

Here is what I propose: Me and whoever else is interested can play $10-max NLHE on a site of our respective choice. We are to track our wins and losses.  Whoever can win more at that level within a certain specified period of time wins the prop bet, and with it, some actual money!

Now, I’m light on details because this plan really doesn’t work unless I have another broke-ass bitch to enter the challenge. We can work out the prop bet prize, time frame and any other rules once I know there is someone or someones interested. I don’t care if it is just you and me in the challenge or a group of people. That said, I must insist on one thing: I have to somewhat “know you” as trustworthy. That means any fellow poker blogger is invited, as are anyone I know in real life. Even some non-blogger commentors are welcome, if we have conversed online in the past. But I cannot promise to accept all comers. It will have to be a person-by-person decision.

It’s not that I don’t trust you. It’s that I don’t trust humanity at large, and this has to be based on trust, since there is no foolproof way to track each other’s wins/losses. You can be assured that I won’t lie or cheat because, basically, I make it a point to pay all of my bets and to be fair in my gambling. It’s part of the gambler’s code. Word is bond, bro!

So, who is willing to enter the kiddie pool with me for a knockdown, dragout fight? Leave me a comment or email me directly. My email can be found on the left sidebar, at the top.

Until next time, make mine poker!

I will tell you what won’t make a list of my favorite things: online poker. I swear, I try, TRY, to enjoy the game online, but its like self flagellation to me. For instance, last night, I entered a Badugi tournament and a HORSE tournament at Stars and a super turbo 54 person SNG on FT. I went deep in all three, but didn’t cash in any. LEMON!

Now, I can readily admit that at certain times, I misplayed hands, in some cases terribly. I misclicked at least twice in Badugi in a manner that would make anyone watching think that I was either pecking buttons at random or chip dumping. Besides the misclicks, I caught myself making at least one awfukkit play in the HORSE tournament where I kept betting out with AA when I was probably beat. I was short enough that I figured this was it anyway, but as it turned out, my opponent only had TT (TA/TQJ). Based on his re-raises on 5th street, a straight looked likely. That’s when we re-raised each other all-in. In fact, my opponent claimed after the hand that he misread his hand and actually thought he had the straight. Based on the play, I believed him. I offered a kind word, “It happens” and then surprisingly, he then tore into me, calling me a donkey for getting all my money in with Aces. I not-so-politely reminded him that he got it all in with Tens and that he should know his role and shut his mouth, after which he promptly busted and wished that I would get in a car accident. My response, “Very original. Are you going to wish me AIDs next?” If you are going to be a bitch in the chat box, you have to be a bit more original than just stealing Woffle’s lines.

The thing is, losing three MTTs in an evening is nothing. Its just, well, discouraging, because I know I wasn’t playing my best. It got me thinking about my last AC trip and how I didn’t play my best their either. If I am going to be this obsessive over poker, I best be playing my A-game when opportunity arises. I suppose that’s the hardest part of it all.

Now onto some of my favorite things. I actually have a Google Map with a list of restaurants I want to try in NYC. I started it months ago when I first started my list of places I wanted to visit in NYC. The list kept growing and I needed a better way to organize my list. Hence, the map.

Most of the places were found through the Food Network or Serious Eats blog. Some I found through walking around the city and seeing a place that looked interesting. In the end, its been an invaluable tool whenever I feel the need to try something different. And since most of the locations are recommended by other chefs or foodies, the results have been rather amazing.

If you want Fried Chicken in NYC, there is no better place than The Redhead. I went there with wifey Kim last weekend. It was recommended by her friend Genny and I had also heard people call it the city’s best fried chicken in publications. When we arrived, it was for an earlier dinner so there was no wait. The place is relatively small, with maybe 24 tables at most and lots of 2-tops. The ambience is nothing special, with a rather functional restaurant decor and a large bar that takes up most of the front area of the restaurant.

I had the fried chicken, which was served with an arugula and strawberry salad and cornbread. The lack of mashed potatoes or other traditional sides (aside from the cornbread) was a surprise, but frankly, I am not a mashed potatoes guy, so I was fine with it. The chicken itself was crispy and salty on the outside and flavorful and juicy throughout. The serving was large, constituting a boneless breast and bone-in thigh with drumstick (if I recall correctly), and I ate the whole portion. Its the type of chicken where, when you are done, you then pick up the shards of skin on the plate and finally pick the bones clean just in case you missed a morsel of deliciousness. The salad was surprisingly good for a guy who does not love either strawberries or salad. The cornbread was good, although nothing special. Wifey Kim had a duck confit dish that was also spectacular.

This one isn’t from my Google Map, but is worth mentioning. A couple of weeks ago, my good buddy since grade school, JDubs, was planning to walk the Brooklyn Bridge with his wife. JDubs and I went to college together and were roomies and his wife is from the town next to my wife’s town.

It was a lazy Saturday and I was just planning to bum around and maybe play some online poker, so when I heard they were nearby, I decided to join them. I took the subway to Brooklyn and met them outside a random place called Jacques Torres Chocolates. It was a sweltering day, so I ducked inside the ice cream portion of the store while I waited for my friends. I decided to get something cool I could walk with, so a chocolate shake was the obvious choice. Now, I love me some choco shakes, and this one was phenomenal. I’ve been thinking about it off and on ever since, and I can’t wait to get back. The shake was thick, but not too thick to drink. The chocolate flavor is deep and satisfying. Its like a liquid candy bar, but made with top quality chocolate. Even that isn’t doing it justice. Just picture your favorite chocolate ice cream melted. That’s it. Its like the best chocolate ice cream melted and ready to drink.

Finally, let’s end this culinary tour with a roast beef sandwich. The fun thing about my map is that it gets me to go to places and order things that would not normally be my go to. I worked this Sunday and after work, decided to do something different in order to salvage the day. On my way home, I stopped at This Little Piggy, a roastbeef sandwich place from the guys who made Artichoke Pizza. Artichoke is a small pizza place with an amazing artichoke pizza, which is really like artichoke dip covering a slice. I tried the pizza and it was pretty good (a bit heavy, but delicious and unique), so I figured I’d give their sandwich place a try.

I had the That Way, which is a hero with roast beef, mozzarella and gravy. When I first read the description, I figured the “gravy” would be Italian gravy, i.e., tomato sauce. I kinda figured the That Way was an odd parm-type dish. In actuality, it was a brown gravy or au jus, and it actually made the sandwich. The roast beef was lightly pink to brown, soft and delicious. The mozzarella was fresh. The gravy soaked into the bread, cheese and meat, binding them all together. It was fantastic.

So, there you go. One thing I don’t love and three things I do.

Until next time, make mine poker!

After writing the epic-sized last post about my day trip to AC, I got into a long series of emails with PokerMeister and Josh, one of the participants in my WSOP pool. The topic of conversation was overplaying trips, based on the couple of trip-hands I had in AC. The specifics are largely unimportant, though, for today’s post, because what really caught my attention was the amazing difference with which certain players approach the game.

I will admit that for the largest part of this year, my poker game has been stagnant. The largest culprit, in my estimation, is merely the lack of live action available to me. No matter what I may want, I am first and foremost a live game player. Without the ample amount of live games, formerly supplied by the Wall Street Poker game and then the Tuna Club (and before those, the Salami Club and Nice Look Club), I just don’t have the opportunity to play as many hands as I would like. This, naturally, leads to less analysis and stagnation.

But besides the lack of live play, the other reason for my stagnation is the simple fact that I am not taking the time to really analyze the game. Sure, there is no better teacher than experience, but experience has taught me that it teaches best when there is a review class. In other words, experience the poker, and then experience the analysis of the same hand and the game in general.

This has all come to the forefront of my mind largely because of my conversations with PokerMeister. In the world of poker blogging, you can rub elbows with a wide swath of people, all with one commonality, the love of the game. Meister fits securely in that love-the-game category, but his approach to the game is so different than mine that sometimes I wonder what the hell I am doing.

Sometimes it feels like I am on auto-pilot and he is a test-pilot.

At least online. Look, live is a different story. I can get by with understanding how people act and picking up on social cues, although I could benefit from more “study.” Online, though, is where the real differences come to light.

Let me say this. I respect Meister a lot. He has been trying to help me improve, which is something I wholeheartedly appreciate and enjoy. Case in point, he got me to finally bite the bullet and install Holdem Manager, a program that keeps stats on your opponents and then displays the stats on top of the FT or PS screen so that you know who is capable of what. I’m still in the Demo trial period, but just using it for one tournament has assured me that I will end up making the full purchase. He has also brought me in on some poker hand conversations that got me to think critically about the game. And what amazes me is how his brain works in regards to poker. He has a certain tenacity and appetite for knowledge and analysis that just doesn’t naturally come my way.

I wonder if it is the difference between a traditional live player (me) and a predominantly online player (Meister). Meister seems to approach the game as though it is a math problem to be solved. No, he doesn’t necessarily focus on math (although in his hand history analysis, he does rely on stats of his opponents), but I don’t necessarily ignore math either. It’s like the difference between solving a math problem (Meister) and painting a picture (me). Meister seems to want to figure out how the game works using logic and statistics, and I want to create success through social tools.

Hopefully, some of Meister will rub off on me. Hell, it already has. And to thank him for his encouragement and help, I think its time for me to open up my blogroll.

So, there it is. PokerMeister in the sidebar. Check it out.

And while I am at it, check out the wholly unrelated link in the sidebar for We Delivery, a pet project started by my wife chronicling misspelled signs and menus. Hence, “We Delivery” a typo we once saw on a Chinese food takeout menu.

Until next time, make mine poker!

Sure, I’ve been waxing ecstatic about the prospects of poker in Pennsylvania, but that doesn’t mean I forgot my old love.

If you’ve been following along with the HoP saga, you should know that this last Saturday was my initial date for my inaugural visit to Bethlehem, Pennsylvania, home of the Bethlehem Sands, a casino that just added 12 poker tables a scant two weeks ago. You also probably know that I decided as we neared the trip that the Sands was just not a viable option, as yet, for a day trip from a guy without a car. The amount of tables (or lack thereof) and novelty of poker in PA meant long wait times during peak hours and no car meant that I was stuck at the Sands until seats opened up. What was a man to do facing the prospect of a potential 3+ hour wait for poker? The answer was simple: focus on the poker, not the location. Hence, Atlantic City.

When I decided to change the plans to AC, I contacted my group of degenerates to see who could make the trip. Admittedly, if none could come, I’d probably just bus it solo. It’s not ideal, but I hadn’t really played any poker since the first week in July and before then, there was another gap of play. When I saw my yearly stats were a good 50% behind where I’d like them to be and that my play has been getting more and more sparse, I decided to recommit myself to the game. That meant I had to play, and AC was, as always, my best option.

Bro-in-law Marc was luckily jonesing for action, so at the very least, I had some backup. We had decided to take the bus, since both of us live in NYC without cars, but then Mikey Aps heard the siren song of AC and decided to join us along with his car. BONUS!

Being the degens we are, we were all agreeable to heading out at 8:30 AM on Saturday to hopefully beat the NJ shore beach traffic and get our gaming on early. Our goal was to be back in NYC around midnight so Mike y could pick up his girl after work (she’s a chef), so that gave us a good 10 hours in AC if our timing worked out well.

Unfortunately, we weren’t the only ones trying to beat beach traffic. As it turned out, other people had the same idea and by the time we got to AC after a pit stop to grab some grub at a crappy, overcrowded truck stop, we arrive at the Showboat poker room around 1pm. The ride was probably a good four hours, even though it is traditionally 2.5 or so. If nothing else, this definitely cuts in favor of PA and the Sands, which is 90 mins away and nowhere near a beach (i.e., no beach traffic).

On the ride down, we discussed where to play. Mikey Aps prefers limit games, which would favor one of the bigger rooms, like the Borgata or the Taj. I hate the Taj because its dirty (the chips are filthy and there are rumors of rampant collusion) and one of our party, I can’t recall who, wasn’t so hot on the Borg. Eventually, Marc suggested the Showboat. Its a nicely appointed room and my former go-to because of the friendly tournament structures and usual ample cash games. There isn’t much limit there, but Mikey didn’t put up a fuss. We arrived at the Showboat at about 1pm.

After a walk through the casino, we arrived at the poker room where there was a reasonable wait list for 1/2. I asked about the 2pm tournament and learned that it was a $100 buy-in, which included the house fee. For  $125, I may’ve played, but for $100 or less, the tourney didn’t really appeal to me.

Marc beat me to the poker desk and asked for a seat at 1/2. The cheery female staffer pointed him to a new table, so I chimed in, “room for one more.” Apparently, there was room for several more, so Marc, Mikey and I all sat at the same table.

Quick aside: When I told this story to Robbie Hole the next day, he mentioned how he hated sitting at the table with too many friends because you tend to get in each other’s way. Now, that is an outgrowth of the fact that we do not soft play each other. Marc’s money is as good as the next guy’s. While I agree somewhat with Robbie, though, the other side of the coin is that, at least with 3 people, you already know how two of your 9 opponents play, so while we don’t soft play each other, I know when Marc has it or doesn’t. In that way, playing at the same table makes it easier for me to be profitable, because I instantly know how some of my competitors play. More than 3 people, though, and I can see how the crowd could be counterproductive. After all, I’m there to play casino poker, not a home game with rake.

Marc sat down first in the 8 or 7 seat. I didn’t want to be right on top of him, particularly because he suggested earlier that we act like we don’t know each other. Fine by me. I took the 1 seat voluntarily, mostly because I don’t mind it and it was far enough from Marc. Mikey sat to my immediate left in the 2 seat, which I initially took as a sign that he wanted to hang and chat during poker, but now I’m starting to wonder if that dastardly prick was just trying to make sure he had position on me.

The beginning of the game was largely uneventful as I decided to take it easy with my “short” $200 stack ($60-300 buyin). I have taken to the habit of buying in at less than a full stack because it gives me a chance to learn my opponents before I overcommit chips. Incidentally, I am sure it also makes me appear less skilled, since a top player would buy in for the max moreso than not. Perhaps I even appear as somewhat scared money.

Whatever the case, I more or less just watched time pass me by as Marc started to accumulate chips across the table from me and Mikey Aps. He started with $300 and was up probably more than a buy-in when I won my first significant hand.

I held KK in the BB and by the time it got to me, there were a ton of limpers. This is a bad excuse, but I didn’t have any $1 chips, so rather than raise it to $12, I just made it $10. It probably didn’t help that up until that point, I had won two pots, both with a $10 preflop bet and a continuation bet, so my initial tight image was slowly deteriorating. By way of background, my tight image was confirmed when I made a raise in one hand and saw not one but two people reach for a call before they noticed that I was the preflop bettor, after which they promptly folded.

Of course, this time, the $10 bet invited a ton of callers. We saw the flop at least five-handed, including Marc and his neighbor to the left, an ankle surgeon from the NYC area who, later in the evening, propositioned Marc to join him and his nurse girlfriend to make the beast with three backs.

The flop came down T87. It was a coordinated flop, but not a terribly coordinated one, so I decided to bet out $25 to see what would happen. It folded around to Marc, and to my surprise, he raised $40 on top. More amazingly, Menage-a-Doc decided to flat call, leaving me awfully confused.

I took my time with the action and ran down the facts I knew in my head. Marc and the Doc limped preflop. That told me that Marc likely didn’t have TT, 88 or 77, the three hands I most feared. It was highly unlikely that the Doc had those either, but I wasn’t as sure, since the table was still relatively young and the Doc was willing to make some odd plays, usually calling station plays, but still plays that indicated a lack of sophistication and aggression.

I turned my attention back on Marc. AT was a possibility. I could see him limping with AT suited and then calling a raise. He knows I’m aggressive, so he may choose to re-raise me with TPTK only, thinking that he could take down the pot immediately. Perhaps he had A9 suited. That made sense, too, except for the fact that it would mean he was re-raising with an OESD.

Finally, I decided that I could not put him on a set, so I had to be ahead. I surely didn’t put him on two pair in that spot. I called.

The turn was a 5. I checked again and Marc pushed all-in. I am pretty sure that the Doc was already all-in from the $65 call on the flop. I considered the action briefly, but I knew that if I was going go call the flop raise, I’d be calling the all-in turn bet that was sure to come, with the sole exception being if a Nine, Jack or Six hit, all of which could mean a straight. I gulped hard and called.

The river was another 7. The cards were shown. I had Kings and Sevens, thanks to the river. Doc had pocket 9s for an OESD that did not come. Marc had…T8c. Whoops! I guess he did flop two pair.

Looking back, I’m surprised I didn’t consider 87 moreso, but even now, I can say that I didn’t expect T8 at all. I rivered him, and he looked adequately miffed and simultaneously amused by it all. I decided to talk some shit across the table, since the table didn’t know we knew each other. Actually, it happened because a fat white dude with gray hair in the 4 seat gave me a ton of credit. “You won that because you had big balls! Nice win man!” I guess Marc isn’t the only one who got inappropriately hit on that night. I replied, “Nah, man. I was behind. It was a bad call.” He answered, “Yeah, but it takes balls to make that call.” I pointed at Marc and said, “Not against that guy it doesn’t!”

Meanwhile, Marc ruined his own plan, admitting that we knew each other as bro-in-laws. That actually loosened the table up more. They all knew I was friends with Aps, since we were chatting, and now Marc was in on it, albeit less so. Still, later when someone asked Marc about his rock card cap, a literal piece of rock about the size of a dealer button, I chimed in, “It’s a kidney stone he had to pass the natural way!”

I was down to about $410 (or $210 profit) when I took a hit. Up until that point, I was playing fairly well, more or less just treading water and maybe bleeding a few chips, but slowly, since I simply was not getting the cards I needed to continue on whatever hands I played.

I was in the BB when I was dealt J9s. I checked and we saw a flop of Jx6s7s, giving me top pair and a spade flush draw. I decided to bet out $10, and got three callers, including a Goomba-looking guy. He was thin, in his forties or early fifties, with black slicked back hair and a Yankees jacket. The turn was a King of clubs. I checked in an effort to control the pot size. The Goomba bet $25. There was one caller and I decided to call as well. The river was another Jack. This time, I led out for $50, which was intended as a value bet. The Goomba raised $50 back, and when it folded to me, I took my time trying to figure out what to do. I eventually called, having reasoned that he was probably on a suited King based on the action. Alas, I was wrong. He showed AJo and I mucked. A player near me asked what I had. By this time, we were making friends and so this wasn’t such an odd question, since the mood was friendly and jovial. Even so, I didn’t want to give up any information. “Let’s put it this way,” I offered unhelpfully, “He had me beat.”

I was still up a bit when I got involved in this next hand. I had AK and raised preflop to $15, getting a call from a good looking blonde dude. He had been playing fairly straight-forward so far. I got the sense that he was a decent player, but not a great one. The flop came down AT9. To my surprise, he bet out $12. I flat called. I was mildly concerned about a flopped two pair, but I thought it just as likely he was betting out with AJ or AQ.  The turn was an 8. He bet $30 and I called again. The river was a third club. My opponent checked and I saw an opportunity. I figured him for a strong Ace, which fit perfectly with his preflop, post flop and turn play. The third club must’ve scared him, so I wanted a bet that would be just small enough to call. I bet $40. He called. Then he showed JQo, for a turned straight. LEMON! And so, I was down to $240 ($40 profit).

It seemed like every hand I played against Blondy was a losing proposition, such that I even started to joke about it. This was entirely lighthearted, as opposed to some of my semi-joking, semi-serious comments. Simply, if I limped and Blondy raised, I’d fold and act like I didn’t want to mess with the guy. “He’s got my number” or “Hey, I don’t want any piece of that.” In actuality, I was making the right plays, given the situations, and when I did call him, I simply didn’t call attention to it. Meanwhile, Blondy had paid off Marc a handful of times, and the joke became that I couldn’t beat Blondy, Blondy couldn’t beat Marc, and Marc couldn’t beat me. We were like the human version of Rock-Paper-Scissors (shot, rock).

I like to keep things fun. The table was having a great time through all of the chatter and friendly jokes. No one was taking things too seriously. A couple of players left, and when the dealer announced, “TWO SEATS OPEN!” I added, “SEND OVER A BAD PLAYER AND A CHICK!”

Just then, a guy walked up to the nearest floor person with what appeared to be his girlfriend. He was a 5’6″ guy who appeared fairly jacked under his tight black shirt. He wore dark designer jeans and a loud belt buckle. One arm sported a large, sparkly, expensive-looking watch. The other had a leather ban festooned with metal rivets or spikes. His hair was jet black, but was shaved tight up the sides where the sideburns would be up to his temple. Everything above and behind that strip was long, about cheek-length from the top of his head. It was parted to both sides and hung down near the sides of his face. His beard was thin and groomed. He spoke with a subtle accident that became more pronounced if he got excited or was talking to his woman. To put it more succinctly, he looked like a shorter Chris Angel wannabe.

The Chris Angel Wannabee (CAW) was accompanied by his wife or girlfriend, a fresh-faced girl with golden brown long hair, a soft, pretty face, extra large brown-tinted sunglasses, a plunging neck line, and necklaces to hide her somewhat ample cleavage. She was a real doll, but also looked like she would just as easily flirt with you at a bar as she would drug you and roll you in the parking lot.

So, when I yelled, “SEND OVER A BAD PLAYER AND A CHICK!” and these two came over, the entire table cracked up. “You called it, man! How’d you do that?!,” a guy in the 10 seat asked. Incidentally, I learned a good lesson from the 10 seat, albeit one that should’ve been obvious. He was a younger guy in his mid 20s with a decent amount of tattoos, one of which prominently said “Mike”. In conversation with him later, I called him Mike and then asked, “That’s your name, right?” He replied, “No, that’s my dead counsin. He died in a fire.” Oh. Um. Sorry. Lesson of the Day: People don’t tattoo their own names on their body, asshole. Stupid me.

As it were, the Bad Player aka CAW really was pretty bad, losing half of his initial $300 stack in an orbit, whereas his chick didn’t know what she was doing, but ran her $100 up to $300.

I get back to the land of profit and joy in the following hand. I held QQ and was up only $20 or so. I raised to $15 on the button and got one call from the Bad Player who was in early position.  The flop was 873, with two spades.  He pushed all-in. I had seen him push before, so I took some time to consider whether he could have possibly hit his big hand and decided that while that was a possibility, I had to go with my gut. This was a “bad player” after all, so I called, only to see that he held 86d, for top pair, 6 kicker.  He turned a 5, giving him a straight draw, but the river was a 2 and I won the pot and doubled up, leaving me with $440 or so, or $220 profit.

After that hand, I took a run to the bathroom to freshen up and take some audio notes. Just as I was getting back, a new hand started.  I was dealt ATc in early- to mid-position.  I limped, as did a bunch of other players. In LP, someone raised to $5.  Most players called. The flop was T83 with two hearts.  Marc was in the SB and bet $20.  I was the only caller.  The turn was an offsuit 9.  He checked.  I checked.  The river was an offsuit Ten. Marc bet out $30. I opted to raise $30 on top, or $60 total. I knew he wouldn’t bet out from the SB with JQ on the T8x flop, so he didn’t have the straight. I was mildly concerned about T9 or even T8 again (i.e., a full house), but he wouldn’t check the turn in those situations. Hence, my raise. To my astonishment, Marc then came over the top, $60 more or $120 total. I really took my time now, trying to figure out what hands could beat me that would make sense here. I kept going back to KT. It couldn’t beat me, but it made sense given his play. I finally opted to call and showed my AT. He showed KT, as I expected, and suddenly I was up to $330 profit, or $530 total.

A little while later, I made a bad read on the Bad Player to cost me some profit. Once again, the hand was AT suited, this time, spades. There were a lot of limpers so I decided to raise from the BB.  There was only one caller, the Bad Player. By this point, we were actually pretty friendly with each other. I found out that they were Russian, so I used the only Russian phrase I know, which phonetically sounds like, “Ya kazz-yaul”. In Russian, it means “I am a goat,” but “goat” is Russian prison slang for a bitch. So, basically, I announced to Bad Player and his Chick that I was a prison bitch.

They cracked up and asked if I knew what I said. I replied, “Yes. I learned it in case I am ever thrown in a Russian prison. I’m going to need protection.” That always gets a good laugh.

So, there was no animosity between me and the Bad Player. He was on a rebuy, naturally, since I felted him earlier. He was playing somewhat better, but it was moreso the cards than his play.

So, to the flop, with ATs, we see JTx. I bet out and he called.  The turn was a blank and the hand went check-check.  The river was another Ten and I bet $20. He raised $100 on top. I took my time, once again. I worked through the hand. In the end, I concluded that perhaps he was pushing thin or was even trying to get me off of the pot with his big raise on a hand where it looked like I had given up. So, I called. And I was wrong. He showed JT for a full house. “Nice hand,” I offered, and he nodded. Might as well keep things friendly.

That is the last hand included in my audio notes from my cell phone. We had started play around 1pm, and by 8pm, I was getting antsy. Under normal conditions, I would’ve been fine playing for another 6 hours, but we were under some time constraints.

Knowing that we were leaving around 9pm, I started drinking around 7. Mikey was nursing beers all day, so I started with one brew before switching to Bacardi and coke, the official casino mixed cocktail of HighOnPoker. By 8pm, I had a good buzz and by 9pm, I was on the cusp of drunkedness. My audio notes stopped, but the play continued. I recall one hand where I flopped a boat. I had 66 in the pocket and the Chick called me. She was on a shortstack after busting and buying back in short. I raised preflop with 66. She called. The flop was TT6. She pushed. I called. She had some crappy Ten, and I took down the pot. I actually ended with quads, when a 6 hit the river, one of three quads that evening.

The other two quads were both owned by none other than Bad Player. He hit quad 3s against me for a decent pot. I couldn’t place him on a bare 3 and I had the 333KK (paired a King on the flop), so short of having pocket Aces, I thought I was good against him. Nope. But so be it.

The next time he had quads, it was against Mikey Aps. Aps raised preflop and Bad Player called with 47o. He then hit trip 4s and rivered quads. When it was showdown, Mikey showed KK and the guy showed the 7 and then slowly the 4. Mikey was steaming that the guy had slow-rolled him, but I don’t think the Bad Player intended to slow-roll him. He just was sloppy with his cards.

Other than that, the last hour is much of a blur. I did, however, correctly guess the next two types of players to be seated at our table. After my earlier lucky guess (“a bad player and a chick”), I called the next two seats, “a fat white guy and an Asian guy.” Sure enough, one seat was taken by a pudgy white guy and the other was eventually (a good 30 mins later) taken by an Asian guy. Damn, I should’ve been playing Keno.

When it was time to cash out, I had $476 in front of me, for $276 profit. Mikey had lost his two buy-ins. Marc was even.

It was about 9pm and the guys wanted to eat. Frankly, I just wanted to hit the road, but I was outvoted. Instead, we checked out the crappy food options at Showboat. The newly opened Johnny Rockets had a line out the door and the House of Blues restaurant had a 30 minute wait. I eventually suggested we take the walk to the diner-like Mansion Cafe. When we arrived, it was like a ghost town, which was ideal for us. We sat and ordered quickly.

The guys had something called the Bayou Burger, which had cajun spices and a whole andouilles sausage on it. I opted for the official Casino food of HighOnPoker, a grilled cheese with bacon. It hit the spot.

Dinner was paid for by comp points. We then hit the road and started at around 10pm. The GPS said our arrival time at my apartment was about 12:15, but once we neared NYC at midnight, we hit traffic which caused me to get home closer to 1:15. I crashed out shortly later, only to awaken early the next morning to get work done before I headed out for golf. Aside from the work, it was a nice way to spend a weekend.

Looking back at my hands, I am left with a few conclusions. First, I need to keep more track of hands, because whenever I process these things (first, I listen to my audio notes, then transcribe to paper, then type them here with color commentary), I force myself to really analyze my play. So, its like playing the same hand multiple times. It just sticks with me better and I can see things better in the clear light of day that I may have missed or didn’t appreciate during the hand. Have you ever thought you played a hand well, and then later told someone about the hand and find yourself suddenly justifying a play that at the time you thought was great. It’s like that. The next day, my bias is gone and I can appreciate the hand histories for what they are, warts and all. For instance, I didn’t mind my play against Blondy when he hit his straight with JQ, but in hindsight, if I were more aggressive on the flop, I would’ve avoided the loss.

The other thing is that, for better or worse, at least I was trying to put players on hands. I was wrong a lot of the time, but I was trying. I need to obviously continue to hone this, and I have to be careful not to get married to a read, but its better than just playing your cards. I suppose I also need to give some people a little less credit. I often can’t picture when a player hit a crap hand because I fool myself into thinking that they started with something better. Again, the Blondy hand is a good example. I rationalized early that he had a big Ace, but never considered the JQo that he actually held.

Finally, I fucking love poker. Love it. Of course, I already knew that, but its good to be reminded.

Until next time, make mine poker!