High On Poker

When I play poker, particularly at casinos, time has no meaning. In fact, several times during our recent AC jaunt, I made prop bets with my cohorts as to the time. There was always someone who was well over 2 hours off.

After Roose’s win at the Hilton tourney, we said goodbye to Pete who rejoined his family at the Tropicana. It was already well past 3am, so everyone else was probably asleep. Even so, it made little sense for Petey to join us all the way to the other side of AC’s Boardwalk to hang out at the Showboat.

We took a cab to the Showboat for around $12, including tip. I was starving after eating around 10 hours ago at some random rest stop on the way to AC. During the drive to AC, I told Roose that I wanted to avoid our usual ritual of late night room service calls, but since I was hungry and we were waiting up for Robbie and Randy Hole, we opted to order some nachos and a burger.

The food arrived and the Holes arrived shortly after. Randy was dead tired after spending countless hours studying for law school finals. Robbie was raring to go, and it was decided that Roose, Rob and I would head to the casino floor. Both gentlemen wanted to play cash games, but I had resolved to avoid the temptation. Even so, the Showboat has a new poker room, so I wanted to check it out.

The first stop was the poker room, now located near the Boardwalk entrance across from the House of Blues restaurant and behind a bar. The room is more spacious than the old room which was on the 2nd floor, hidden away from the casino action. The open walls meant that you could hear the dings and bells of the slots, but they were far enough away and blocked by the raised-platform bar area to be negligible. The new rooms looks like it has a lot more tables than the old one, but rumor had it that there were only 3 more tables. That meant that the tables were more spread out, which is a pleasure to anyone who has ever sat at a poker table right behind a 400 lb. guy at the opposite table. It’s amazing how many 400 lb. guys play poker.

The room wasn’t too full, but I didn’t feel like playing anyway. After scoping out the scene, I walked with Roose and Hole until we were lured to a Wheel of Fortune bank of slots. I considered doing a prop to see who would get to Spin the Wheel first, but didn’t say anything. I then got to spin the wheel for some moderate payout. By the time I was done, I was back to even. Hole lost his $20. I think Roose lost a few bucks.

We were walking in the general direction back to the room when I stopped to cash in my $20 ticket from the WoF machine. I looked back and my buddies were gone. I tried feebley to find them, but the wave of exhaustion washed over me and I made my way, instead, back to the room. They’d know where to find me.

When I returned to the room, Randy was lying on Rooses bed. I should probably back up to Roose and my drive to AC.

As I mentioned earlier, I thought the trip was just Dave Roose and I. When I found out we’d have company, I made one thing clear. “I want my own bed. I have no problem with them crashing with us, but if it is at all possible, I want my own bed.” I’m not homophobic and I don’t ostensibly have a problem sharing a bed, but I have gotten to the point where I can afford to have my own bed. I would rather pay for two rooms and have my own bed than squeeze into one room and have to share.

Roose agreed. “Me too, man. Rob will take the cot and Randy will take the floor. He likes sleeping on the floor.”

I thought to myself that there was no way this was going to be easy, but when I re-entered the hotel room, well past 4am, I didn’t care any longer…because Randy was comfortable in bed…Roose’s bed. I hopped into mine and we watched TV for a bit until Roose and Rob returned from a less-than-successful craps run.

We discussed our plans for the next day as I poured over some casino tournament schedule printouts. I wanted to play at the Borgata, having received a surprising and cryptic message from the Rooster that he was actually there Friday night, but the other guys also wanted to play a tournament. We considered a Bally’s tournament at noon, but then realized that no one wanted to wake up early enough to make it. Instead, we decided to play the 2pm Showboat $100 buy-in tournament.

The next morning, I relented and agreed to eat breakfast at the Showboat. The Showboat’s biggest problem is their crap food. The diner-like Mansion Cafe has decent food but always leaves me feeling greasy and bloated. The downstairs deli-like Chelsea Market has crap food and the worst service ever. I mean EVER. We walked by there on the last day and saw a 20-person line and one visible employee who was leaning on a soda machine and chatting with someone off of the line, as though she didn’t have a care in the world.

Even so, we headed to the Mansion Cafe where I had scrambled eggs and bacon. The bacon was deep fried, which makes it extra crispy. I like crispy bacon, but not this crap, which was brittle to touch and taste.

After breakfast, we headed to the poker room. It was still before 1pm, so I decided to sit for some 1/2 NLHE.

The game I sat down to looked like a wet dream. Four of the players at the table were gangsta-type black guys. If you’ve ever seen BET’s Black Poker Stars, you probably know that I was not concerned about my opponents.

And yes, Dawn, I suppose that is a touch racist, but I build my reads from appearance at first, including clothing, nationality, sex, etc., and then refine it as I go.

In the end, there was only one player who mattered at the table, an extremely loud and pathetic guy sitting two seats to my left. He was constantly talking, acting like a black Jamie Gold, except for his MethodMan appearance. He had on a tracksuit with some stupid squiggly design. He talked a big game but was terrible. It didn’t hurt, though, that he had tilted the entire table and had a huge stack. I got to witness some terrible play from him, but he was also smart enough to get paid off, like when he pushed on a turn that gave him a set and got insta-called by TPTK. He also busted Robbie Hole when Hole re-re-raise pushed preflop with KK. MethodMan had 33 and flopped a 3. Lemon!

Sadly, I never got into a pot with MethodMan. I tried to, but I just didn’t get any decent cards and the few speculative hands I played went to shit, so I didn’t play post-flop. The guy two seats to my right, though, who looked an awful lot like Lil John (OKAY!) and I tussled on a hand where I raised preflop to $12 with KQ and saw a Q55 flop, with two hearts. He checked and I bet $30. A preflop caller folded. Lil John made a min check-raise and I called, curious to see how the turn would play out. The turn was not a flush card. He checked and I checked as well. The river was an Ace of hearts. He thought for a moment before betting out $65. I though for a moment and watched him. Something didn’t feel right. I looked him over. He had visibly tightened up, as though he were on tell lockdown. That’s a classic tell. If you are worried about giving off tells, its because you are weak and fear a call.

I called and we tabled our hands. He had Q9. I was really proud of my call, but the results sucked. With the Ace river, we chopped, since the board had paired.

Even so, I was still hoping to get action down the line from MethodMan until I saw him reach for a chip tray. “Are you leaving?” I asked. “Yeah, man. I got something to take care of.” I stood up and racked my chips. My cell phone read 1:47pm. I had 13 minutes to sign up for the 2pm tournament. If MethodMan had stayed put, I would have skipped the tourney, but as it were, MethodMan and/or fate conspired to have me play that $100 2pm tournament. The results, I will have to save for the next post.

On the next AC Trip Report. Jordan bumps into random bloggers, reunites with an old friend, and stops the end of the world!

Until next time, make mine poker!

The Hilton tournament is an interesting thing. Blind levels are short at 20 minutes, but the starting stacks are deep with 15k in chips. The blinds start off low enough, but eventually start to double so that once you reach some of the higher blinds, the blinds go into a frenetic pace, which ironically tends to slow the action except for big hand v. big hand confrontations. This is the perfect example of a tournament slowing itself down by trying to speed itself up.

Of course, when the tournament started, I knew none of this aside from the short blind levels. Whatever the case, I figured it would be a fast structure, and I advised Petey Pablo, and to a lesser extent the already knowledgeable Roose, that tight play may be an optimal strategy, since the weak field will likely pay off when big hands did come.

With that said, I immediately ditched that gameplan about 2 minutes into the tournament. As I looked around my table, I noticed an obvious trend. The players sucked. The biggest tip off was after I looked at my first hand. It was a crap hand, but before I folded, I turned to look at my opponents on my left. The next 6 players were already holding their cards in position to fold. It was as if they were each ready to throw a frisbee but were waiting for the catcher to finish his “go long” run and turn around. I folded, seeing that the 7th player looked ready to bet and knowing that my basic read was not enough to go on this early in the game. I needed to confirm it, and confirm it I did, as the first 6 players folded in rapid succession and the seventh player raised.

I was seated in the 2 seat at table 2, with Roose and Petey Pablo at other tables. The tournament had a full 6 tables, and was later announced to have 61 players in total. I chatted with the table, making friends with my neighbor to my left, a Red Shirted feller who was friendly, if not a little miffed at a Hispanic table captain in the 9 seat. Red Shirt, a guy in his early 20s, bet out preflop and got two callers, the Hispanic Table Captain and his elderly neighbor and seeming co-conspirator in the 10s. The flop was 66T and all players checked. The turn was a 7 and Red Shirt bet out. Everyone else folded and Red Shirt tabled 66 for quads. “What you raise for?”, El Capitan asked. He was skinny, in his late 50s with a trace mustache. He reminded me of Snoopy’s cousin, a likeness I tend to see a lot at poker games.

The two gentlemen had a long, obnoxious conversation, during which I assured my neighbor that he did nothing wrong. We all joked about how the other guy was “so right” about the raise, and Red Shirt thanked him for the lesson.

An orbit or so later, I was in the BB with 89o. It folded around to Eavesdropper, who was in the 6s or 7s. He raised from the 50 blind to 150. There was one other caller in LP, I believe El Capitan, as he was in a lot of hands, and I decided to call and defend my blind. I also felt like I had a good read on Eavesdropper thanks to a tell that I actually noticed on another player first.

In the 5s was an overly-gregarious guy in his young 20s. He had tight cropped hair and a very boxy looking face, with glasses. He wouldn’t stop talking in a way that demonstrated that he wanted attention. He also was drinking heavily.

After I realized that most of the players did not think twice about tells (remember the frisbee exhibition?) I decided to keep an eye out for tells. In an early hand, the 5s, who had the exact voice of Robert Downey Jr. (I pointed this out later in the game and everyone agreed, after which we all called him Iron Man) raised an oddly high amount from MP. After betting, he went for his drink and took a sip. This, and the look in his eyes, suggested weakness. The drink is a great tell, as long as you are careful when you use it. Like any tell, you first have to verify what it means before over-using it. Everyone folded and he proudly showed 66, explaining that he did not want action. He was patting himself on the back, but he was also giving me the confirmation that when he goes for a drink, it is to sooth his discomfort. Think of someone with stage fright about to make a big presentation. The speaker will likely be nervous and engage in certain actions to sooth themselves, whether it is ringing their hands, pacing or going stone cold quiet. In poker, one of the most common soothing techniques is to take a drink. It gives the player something to do with themselves while they try to look natural.

With this in mind, I decided to defend my BB with 89o against the Eavesdropper who went directly for his drink after betting and the loose El Capitan. The flop came down 778. I checked and El Capitan bet 600. He then went right back to his drink. He looked nervous; it wasn’t just the drinking. It was the whole shebang. El Capitan folded and I thought about what to do. Folding would be easy, but I did hit the flop and I had a good feeling that El Capitan was not happy with what he saw. I opted for a check-raise of 1500, an amount that looks like I want a call (only 900 more after a 600 bet) but may also tempt a re-raise from a monster hand. He folded and I took down the pot. Iron Man asked what I had and I explained that I didn’t want to show my Quads because I obviously misplayed them.

Funny side story. As Iron Man continued to drink, he got louder and more talkative. When a player joined our table halfway through the tourney, Iron Man mentioned how there were two quads in the first two orbits. He must’ve been smashed or gullible, because obviously I didn’t actually have quads.

I hadn’t been getting great cards, but it was clear who at the table could be exploited and I set about laying waste to my foes. With blinds of 100/200 and a 25 ante, it folded to me when I held Q6o in the CO. I glanced to my left and the SB and BB were both preparing their frisbees. I couldn’t see Red Shirt, the button, as clearly, but I was playing tight and had the respect of the table, so I bet out 800, expecting an easy pot. To my surprise, Red Shirt called; to no one’s surprise, the SB and BB folded.

The flop came down J65 giving me middle pair. As long as he didn’t have a Jack (possible) or a high pocket pair (doubtful), I was ahead. I bet out 1600 and he folded. He told me he missed with his AQ and I said I got lucky, “I hit my AJ.” Whatever.

The very next hand, I am dealt AQs. In EP, El Capitan raised to 700. He had raised with crap cards before, but since I was in MP and I could see that Red Shirt was looking to play the pot, I just called. Red Shirt called and we saw a QJ7 flop. It checked to me and I bet 2000. Everyone folded.

That last hand might seem like a small thing, but that was a whopping 1950 more chips or so, which was more than 10% of the original starting stack. This was definitely a tournament where picking up uncontested pots would be key to surviving the escalating blinds.

I’m not perfect; far from it actually, and I lost 7k when I should’ve known better. With AKo, I raised 2k on top of the 300/600 blinds (75 ante). My opponent was new to the table, but was fairly loose and appeared to be a calling station. He called and we saw a Queen-high flop. I made a continuation bet of 4k and he called. The turn was a blank and I checked. He bet out and I folded. Fortunately, I had accumulated enough chips such that even after this loss, I was still sitting on 20,000.

I was moved to a new table where I scrapped to survive. The blinds escalated to 400/800, 100 ante and then 600/1200, 200 ante. The jumps were getting large, but my push/fold strategy was working.

During one of the breaks, I went to the bathroom where I experienced an odd personal dilemna. I was minding my own business at my urinal when I heard Iron Man two urinals over talking with his buddy who was also in the tournament and now at Iron Man’s table. The conversation went like this:

Buddy (drunk and very loud): You dude, if we are heads-up in a hand, we should just check it down.
Iron Man (jokingly): Nah, man. If I’m heads-up with you, I’m raising all-in.
Buddy: No, really man. We’ll check it down.
Iron Man: Ok.

I left the bathroom and found Roose, replaying for him what had happened. I told him I had three options: (1) tell the TD, (2) tell Iron Man, who was mostly harmless, that he should watch what he says because it could get him tossed from the tournament, or (3) do nothing. I opted for (3)…sorta. First, I went over to my old table and tapped my poker buddy Red Shirt on the shoulder, motioning for him to walk with me from the table. He obliged. I spoke to him in a whisper, “I just heard Iron Man make a deal to soft play with his buddy in the 7s. I’m not going to do anything about it, but I wanted you to know in case you see it happening and want to use it to your advantage or call him out.” He thanked me and I went back to my table.

So, my question to all of you is, if you are in that situation in a rinky dink $50 buy-in tournament, what would you do?

I returned to my table and resumed my efforts to scrape to the final table. Petey had already busted after we were down to three tables. Roose was doing exceptionally well, having doubled up with AA v. KK only to bust another player a few hands later with AA again. He was also clearly in charge of his table and playing well.

My stack dwindled to 33k, with blinds soaring to 3000/6000. We were down to 14 players with 9 seats paying. I was the second shortstack in the BB at a table of 6 players. The smallest stack pushed in EP and received a call from the button. At this point, I was so short, I decided to call with my J9o. I was pretty much in a forced call situation, since I had less than 5x the BB if I folded, and the antes were sizeable. I missed all five cards but the button, who checked it down, hit top pair, Kings (with a crappy kicker).

Even shorter, I had no choice but to push in the SB. It didn’t hurt that I had 44, probably the best hand I saw in a long while. Even so, when there was a raise from MP, I was priced in enough, with my SB and dwindling stack, to call with any two. To my dismay, the BB then pushed all-in on top and we went heads-up, 44 v. his…JJ. The flop was a Q94 and I was relieved for a moment. The turn was a Ten. The river was an 8. He four-straighted and I was busted in 13th place out of 61, four spots from the bubble.

I said Good Game and walked away, trying to get a handle on the feelings inside of me. I was surely upset but also accepting. Bubbling has become a bitch too common for my tastes lately, but at least it means that I am getting near the money. If a few cards fall my way, I was sure I’d win another tournament soon.

During another break, Roose, Petey and I headed for the nearest exit for a smoke break. We chatted with a bald black guy who had been playing in the tournament. He was lamenting his losses. He’ll be popping up again later in another segment of this running trip report, and since I never got his name, we’ll just call him Mr. Outside. He was friendly enough when we met him, but clearly perturbed by his opponent’s less than stellar play that resulted in his suckout bust.

I cheered on Roose for a bit, before feeling the nag of poker again. I found my way to a 1/2 NL cash game already in progress. The table was shorthanded at 7 players, which I had hoped to use to my advantage.

Naturally, I was still a little on tilt, which is another reminder of why I need a longer refractory period before I can switch to cash after a tournament bust. I lost a good $35 from a combination of fatigue, tilt, and chasing my losses.

I finally decided to move my seat from the 4s to the 8s when I realized that the two most aggressive players were in the 5s and 6s. In my new seat, I was immediately dealt AQs.

A loose fat early-20-year-old wannabe hotshot raised to $11 from EP, and rather than raise, I chose to merely call. I was feeling skittish about my earlier losses at the table and I wanted to get more information, namely a flop and the preflop raiser’s post-flop action before I made any moves. An obese woman on my immediate left called.

We saw a flop of QJX, rainbow. The preflop raiser checked and I bet out $15, hoping to keep someone in the pot with me. To my surprise, the obese woman raised to $30. It folded to me and I considered a re-raise, but recognized that this was not the smartest move. I may’ve had a loser’s image (making a reraise with crap more likely) and the sloppy obese woman likely played sloppy poker, but I was trying to be conservative. I didn’t think a fold was warranted…yet…so I called.

The turn was an Ace, giving me top two pair. I checked, as did my obese opponent. The river was a blank and I bet $50 as though I were trying to buy the pot. I did my best to look nervous. She called and tabled KK. She slowplayed her hand to oblivion. She should’ve raised preflop. It would have gotten me into the hand and then she could’ve extrapolated more money on the flop. I may have called anyway and sucked out, but it still would have been the “proper” play in her spot. As it were, from that hand alone, I went from a deficit to $106 profit.

And then fate stepped in. The floor person walked over and told us that he had to split the table since the other tables weren’t full either. I was the only objector, and after everyone was given their new table assignments, I told the floor to save mine. I’d be taking this as my cue to stop playing.

I cashed out, now up $56 ($106 in cash, -$50 in tournaments). Meanwhile, Roose was still holding court, with most of the chips out of the 7 or so remaining players.

I walked over to the payout sheet and began running the math for even 6-, 5-, and 4-person chops. I wanted the numbers handy to help Dave cut a deal if/when the time came.

Down to 4 people, I saw my chance. Roose had the most chips, but if he doubled up a single foe, he’d have an average stack and the doubler would be the chip leader by a decent stretch. The blinds were super high and no one had much play left. It was really a crapshoot. I leaned over to Roose, “You know a four-way chop is $450.” Roose announced that fact to the table, and then added, “…but you know, I’ve got a lot more chips than you all.” I chimed in, “How about $600 for the chipleader and $400 for everyone else. He has way more chips, and it’s only $50 difference to the other players.” Everyone agreed happily and the deal was struck. Roose was the Winner of the tournament with $600 in profit. If it weren’t for our fast negotiation skills, he would’ve been playing a crapshoot. As it were, he had a nice tidy profit.

After the tournament, Roose told me that he would’ve given me my buy-in back if it weren’t for the fact that I had already won it back. In the past, Roose and I sometimes gave back the buy-in to the loser if the other person had a serious cash, but since we didn’t agree at the beginning of the tournament, and since I was actually up anyway and not expecting anything, I took it at face value.

Roose won the tournament and I pretty much bubbled. For those out there guessing that Petey was the winner, sadly that was not the case. For those thinking that it was me, well, no dice there either. But for those who thought it was Jarvis, the scheming butler, you were half right…because Jarvis was actually Roose in disguise! And he would’ve gotten away with it too, if it weren’t for you pesky kids!

Stay tuned, though, folks, because there is plenty of poker to be played, including the arrival of Robbie and Randy Hole, a visit to the new Showboat poker room, and another tournament. Did one of the boys win that tournament? Only time will tell.

Until next time, make mine poker!

Writing a blog for three years, there can be times when the spark of inspiration dwindles down to little more than a cinder. And then you pour 3 gallons of gasoline on the little flame and suddenly you are engulfed in an inspirational wildfire.

Atlantic City was my 3 gallons gasoline.

In the last three years, I have chronicled over 10 trips to Atlantic City, most of which with my perrenial poker wingman Dave Roose. So it should come as no surprise that this one started out much the same as the others.

The plan was for Roose to meet me at my office at 4pm. By 1pm, the text messages back and forth reminding each other of the upcoming trip were coming fast and furious. By 4pm, I was out the door, searching for Roose amongst the sea of cars.

Logic dictated that we leave early to avoid the rush hour traffic. Logic sucks, because apparently everyone else had the same idea. It took us 1 hr. and 30 mins. just to get into NJ. For reference, that’s maybe a 20 minute drive. From there, we fought traffic and anticipation, making it to AC, usually a 2.5 hour trip, in a whopping 5 hours.

Along the way, Roose hooked up his iPod and we listened to some recent PokerRoad broadcasts. I used to listen to the PR broadcasts regularly, but other distractions have taken its place. Still, listening to the crew discuss poker actually set me in the right mindframe. By the time we were pulling into AC, I was raring to go.

We made a quick pitstop at the Showboat where Roose and I debated whether to seek a room upgrade. Last year, I had my first successful under-the-table-tip room upgrade during X-mas season, but I knew that the weekend before Memorial Day weekend would be too packed in AC to get anything going. Even so, we chatted up the counter clerk and felt our way around the topic. Sadly, she confirmed our belief and we headed over to our room to drop off our stuff and literally head out the door in under 5 minutes.

The plan was to head to the Hilton for their 10pm $40+10 NLHE tournament. I hadn’t played this specific tournament before, but I vaguely remembered from a past Hliton tourney that the structure would be fast and the play atrocious (You can read about the other tournament, in which I made it to the final table only to lose with AA v. 55 all-in preflop and a guy who accidentally called with T9 against my AJ HERE). The lower buy-in also assured me that this would be a donkfest.

During our drive down to AC, Roose let me in on some of the details to which I was not privvy. As far as I knew, Roose and I were going to be heading out to AC solo. But while driving, we got a call from Petey, one of the players at the Roose Home Game. “Hey guys. Are you in yet?” I made small talk about traffic with Pete on the speaker phone. “Well, what are you arriving?” It dawned on me from the conversation that Pete wasn’t back in Queens. He was in AC with his wife, children and sister-in-law. The timing was pure coincidence, but since Pete was new-ish to poker (he’s been playing for years now, but never in a casino) and since we were in AC, it was the perfect opportunity to introduce Pete to casino poker.

Pete, by the way, is in his 40′s, and is a former electrician. He’s the salt of the earth, a good guy all around. He also was atrocious at poker when he first started to play. Since then, I have seen his play develop over the Roose Home Game. It helps that its a congenial atmosphere and we often discuss hands right after they are done. Now, Pete has moments of great play mixed in with some less-than-stellar play. But that is the nature of the beast and I can wholeheartedly say the same is true for me. Consistency is definitely the hardest part of poker, once you get down the basics.

A little while before that, though, we received a call from Robbie Hole. “When are you going to be there?”, he asked. We told him about our late arrival. “Well, we aren’t leaving here until late.” Wha?, I thought. Apparently, Roose had invited Robbie Hole and Randy Hole as well. Our little trip had turned into a traveling party and I couldn’t be happier. The crew would all be in AC. What could possibly go wrong?

After dropping off our stuff at the Showboat, we arrived at the Hilton poker room where I signed up for the tournament while Roose went to get a players’ card. We met up with Pete and he signed up too.

The Hilton poker room had changed since I was last there. It is located two escalators up from the main floor opposite the Asian Game pit. In fact, the Asian Game pit used to be where the poker room now is, and the poker room used to be where the Asian Game pit now is. Looking back, I can kinda figure out the reason for the change. The Hilton, located at the end of the strip of casino/hotels on AC’s Boardwalk, always seemed to have trouble bringing in the poker players. The hotel’s outdated cheesy gold and glass decorations and trim (think early 90s chic) doesn’t make it an attractive place, and its location is far from the huge poker rooms (Borgata and Taj) and too close to the Trop’s great room. By swapping the Asian Games (always a moneymaker) and the Poker Room, the Asian Games had more room to breath and the desolate poker room looked a tad more full in its moderately smaller location.

After signing up, I grabbed a random poker magazine and a seat at a random table. I killed time until my guys were signed up. Then we sat around and discussed the game and strategy. All the while, a gentleman across the table was reading another magazine. I was conscious of the fact that he could hear us talk shop, and I hoped that we would not be at the same table, because he knew from our conversation that we were serious players.

When it was time to take out seats, I finally looked at the table/seat numbers. By sheer coincidence, I was sitting in the exact seat I was assigned to. The eavesdropper was also sitting in his correct seat, which indicated to me that he had played this tournament before. Whatever the case, I now knew that with this particular individual, my idiot’s image would not work. Fortunately, I was going to rely on a different image anyway.

The tournament kicked off with some of the worst play I have ever seen. But that will have to wait for later, as it is now time for an intermission. When we return, one of these five people win the Hilton Tournament: Will it be Jordan, your humble narrator in desperate need of a bankroll boost? David Roose, driver extraordinare and poker wingman to the stars? Petey Pablo, first time casino tournament player? Eavesdropper Guy, and his crazy strong eavesdropping skills? Jarvis Pennyworth, the butler nursing his jealousy over Jordan’s chiseled pecs and many lovers?

Find out next time on….Poker Tournament Survivor!

Until next time, make mine poker!

I’m really chomping at the bit this morning. Come 4pm, I’m out of the office and off to AC with Dave Roose, our first such trip in way too many months.

Days like this are simultaneously the hardest and easiest days at work. It reminds me a lot of the anticipation I felt as a kid on half-day school days. Even though the beginning of the day started out normally, as the end of the half-day approached, every hour brought a new wave of excitement and anticipation, moreso than if it were just the end of the regular school day.

This morning wasn’t too shabby either. I am in the process of settling a particularly troubling case. This morning, I was to appear at Court with my adversary to either tell the Court that the case was settled or receive a very quick trial date.

Normally, settlement is a regular part of my job and nothing to be treated as anything remarkable or difficult. However, this is the first settlement where I have taken point, and it doesn’t help that the client is, how shall we say, marching to his own drummer and the defendant’s attorney is dim as a sack of hammers. That and the client owes enough money in workers’ compensation liens that any settlement would be difficult.

For those of you who don’t know, here is a two-sentence primer on workers’ compensation liens: You know how in most states if you are injured on the job, there is a process by which you can recover under workers’ compensation in order to provide all employees with a way to bear the brunt of accidental workplace injuries? Yeah, well, if you sue someone else (can’t sue your employer; that’s what workers’ compensation is for) for the accident/injury, you have to pay back workers’ compensation for all of the money they spent on your medical bills and lost wages from the proceeds of the lawsuit.

So I enter the Courthouse with the belief that I will be getting an early June trial date based on prior conferences with the Judge. I then proceed to get into a brief argument with the defendant’s counsel over her selective memory. Long story short, it all worked out though. When we saw the Judge, he confirmed that the defendant’s counsel remembered a few things inaccurately and the trial date is set for September. That’s a huge load off of my shoulders, allowing me ample time to prepare for the trial, which will be my first trial as lead attorney. Exciting stuff.

But this is a poker blog, so let’s touch on some poker. The Wall Street mixed game in honor of Skidoo was a lot of fun, even if I lost $58. Poker can be frustrating at times, and the most pressing issue of late is my attitude. Plain and simple, 90 minutes into the game, I felt bored, like I had had enough. I still stuck around for three more hours, during which time I gave back my profit and the $58. It seemed like whenever I folded, my outs would hit, but that is just the nature of things.

I’m really hoping AC will revive my ability/desire to play long hours. My last two trips to AC were brief (meeting up with a few bloggers after a Philly court appearance and making a solo day trip) and I felt the same sense of boredom then too. Still, I feel like I am ready to jump back in with the always trusty Roose by my side. We are staying at the official Atlantic City Casino/Hotel of HighOnPoker, the Showboat, which was chosen by way of the patented HighOnPoker Atlantic City casino decision process. In case you need a reminder, it goes like this: find the cheapest casino/hotel with poker on the Boardwalk. After all, they are all the same, so this process works fine and since I have a Harrah’s card, Showboat usually wins out anyway.

I am sure we are going to be playing a tournament or three at the Showboat, and hopefully unlike last time, I won’t bubble. Also, the poker room supposedly moved from the private, classy room on the 2nd floor to a pit on the casino floor by the Boardwalk entrance. That bothers me a bit, but it may attract more floor traffic, which means looser action and more incompetence, two things I can use to my advantage.

I shaved my head yesterday at a very short setting. Looking in the mirror today, I realized that the short hair actually works against my usually-desired dumb kid table image. I guess I have to accept that those “kid” days are behind me, but (and I kid you not) I was practicing my best “stupid” face earlier today, so I may, instead, play the role of the semi-retarded oaf. The key is to let your tongue lie slack in your mouth and keep you mouth in an open position. Think Corey Haim.

Or, you know, I can not focus on the little details and instead focus on good decision making.

Expect a write-up early next week. Otherwise, you all have a fine weekend.

Until next time, make mine poker!

Let me first start by apologizing to CK and F-Train for missing their going away party last night. What can I tell you, I’m a bum! I wish I were able to make it, but I had a longer-than-expected day at the office, I have plans tonight, and wifey Kim has plans Thursday night, and, well, since I’m going to AC this weekend, I felt the need to spend what little time I had with wifey Kim. Ah, it’s a terrible excuse anyway, and I just hope that my two friends had a great time and were too drunk to even notice my absence. You will both be sorely missed on the East Coast, but I congratulate you both on your upcoming adventure and look to both of you with excitement and awe for what’s to come.

F-Train was one of the first bloggers I met, way back in May 2005 at a NYC homegame. Dr. Pauly got me an invite, as a new blogger, and I met everyone’s favorite A-lister, the Rooster, Derek, and a couple of other guys as well. F-Train was a friendly guy, and we’d randomly bump into each other in AC or eventually in some of the IHO games and other NYC-based events. I can say in that time that F-Train has never done anything to cross me and has always been a class act. Even though I may be a bit…extroverted at times, it can take a lot for me to feel actual “friendship” with a person; I consider F-Train a friend, and I wish him only the best in the future.

I first met CK via Soxlover, when I was attending one of Soxlover’s homegames. CK had met Sox and F-Train in AC randomly one weekend and had somehow secured herself an invite to the exclusive homegame. I remember chatting with CK and Matty Ebs on our train ride back to Manhattan after the game. I was really amazed at CK. Here was this cute Asian chick who appeared to be in her early 20′s talking about how she had played poker professionally for a year after quitting some high-end financial/legal gig, only to decide to return to NY and take another high-end financial/legal gig…which she has recently quit to return to playing poker full time. CK had an aire of confidence and decisiveness about her that I absolutely admired. Over months, we also met up in various poker games and she, too, became a friend.

Having a wife (and being, at times, a hermit) has kept me somewhat out of some loops. I haven’t really mixed WifeyKimWorld and PokerWorld for a variety of reasons. Whatever the case, though, at one point, I had missed enough homegames and whatnot to have been way behind on the local gossip that F-Train and CK were an item. I remember getting a hint of that news and dancing around it at one place or another. I also remember that once it was confirmed, I told CK and F-Train (seperately) that I thought they were a great pair. It helps that I like them both, and I wish the best for both of them as a couple and as individuals.

So, that’s my sappy temporary bon voyage to two NY poker bloggers who deserve nothing but success. I raise my glass to you.

It’s time for some pimpage for a guy who has definitely earned it with some intriguing posts on buying in short at NLHE.

I have long been an advocate of buying in for the maximum whenever I play poker. To me, it was an obvious move. I want to be able to win the maximum amount possible when I get myself into a good situation. I also liked the idea that you do not fuck with the big stack.

The problem is, I began to believe my own hype and eventually stopped thinking critically about why I buy in for the max.

Part of my current efforts to re-establish my game (and profitability) requires me to examine every part of my game, including table image. I haven’t written about table image in a while, especially since I haven’t played in a casino in a long while, but in the past, I always emphasized my “loser” image. I tend to dress like a bum when I sit in public games. I like to wear t-shirts, often emblazened with a cheesy Superman symbol or something similar. I like my hoodies and cargo pants for comfort. Essentially, I am playing the role of the fool. I want people to look at me and go, “East money!” I don’t want them to think, “This guy knows what he is doing.” At least not at first.

The reasoning is simple enough. I want to be underestimated so I can get paid off on my big hands. I want to appear loose so that my actual tight play will get paid off.

The problem, though, is that I have slowly moved away from this tried and true image to a “tough guy” antagonistic image that does me little good. Instead of tricking my opponents into overplaying thier hands, I have changed my focus to forcing my opponents off of hands. It might work for some people, but I know in my heart of hearts that it is the wrong strategy to me.

I need to be the quintissential loser at the table. I need to appear to be the mark, so that when I make my plays, I catch players off-guard…and playing with a shortstack may help me get back on track. Plain and simple, players who buy in short look weak. Opponents are more likely to get it all in against these opponents because (a) the bigger stack’s losses are capped and (b) the short stack is likely playing scared and will probably fold to an all-in or is pushing out of desperation. It’s fucking rudimentary! So, why aren’t I using this?

I may try multi-tabling micro-stakes NLHE online tonight with min buy-ins. I may try playing 2/5 NLHE this weekend at AC with a min buy-in. Whatever the case, I am going to begin re-assessing table image from scratch to fight my way back to the donkey-appearing profitable guy I once was. I guess appearing like I know what I am doing isn’t such a benefit after all.

I highly recommend you check out Lucypher‘s posts on playing with a min buy-in. The three parts can be found here, here and here. But really, just peruse his whole catalogue, because there are some great posts in there from a guy who hasn’t been posting for all that long.

Until next time, make mine poker!

Wifey Kim and I recently booked a trip to California in the late summer. Our plan is to fly into San Francisco, stay for a few days, and then drive the coast, with our final destination in San Diego. Stops along the way include a small sea-side town, Cambria, Los Angeles, and possibly Santa Barbara.

The plan came about on a whim. Wifey Kim and I are beach people. More accurately, she is a beach person, and I am a wifey Kim person. Because of this, our vacations usually end up in Mexico or the Carribean. It’s not a bad way to vacation, but we have also felt the need to do a bit more exploring. Ideally, a trip to Europe was in order, but the dropping value of the US dollar has made such a trip a bit more expensive than is ideal. And then came California.

The benefits of driving the coast is obvious. For wifey Kim, there are ample beaches. For me, there is time to see a lot of different places, all in one trip. It doesn’t hurt that wifey Kim has a friend in San Fran that will keep her busy for at least one day, allowing me to sneak off to a local casino/card room. But, really, poker is a very minor part of this trip. The real joy will be in exploring new places with wifey Kim.

Ever since we booked the flights, whenever my mind wanders, it ends in one place: California. In another life, I could have been a long-haul trucker. The idea of traveling the roads has always appealed to me, and long drives have never been an issue. Spending time on random beaches and emersing myself in a different life style really appeal to me.

It doesn’t hurt that the flames have been stoked by Jamie‘s great multi-part post of his recent trip to California. Jamie is on a mission to visit a myriad of poker rooms across this great nation, and his trip to the many card rooms in California was long and varied. Check it out for a great read.

Meanwhile, I am gearing up for my own upcoming poker sojourn to Atlantic City with Roose this weekend. It is really creeping up on me after numerous weeks of high-stress lawyering which just died down today (a $2,000,000 settlement in a case that was all but lost a month ago helps). I also have 23Skidoo‘s invitational game at the Wall Street Game this week, and it’s been too long since I was able to hang with the Skidoo. These are all tremendous occurences, considering the fact that I cannot remember the last time I played live poker.

So, for any of your folks out there with tips regarding poker in the San Francisco area, hit me up with a comment or email (you can get my email from the tab at the top of the page). And for all you other people out there, I’ll see you at the Hoy tonight (hopefully).

Until next time, make mine poker!

I was checking the blog of good buddy Schaubs when I stumbled across a poll he inserted in his sidebar. Schaubs asked whether writing “BOOM” in an online poker room chatbox is stupid or funny (paraphrased). It got me thinking about a conversation I had online two nights ago with GCox (or was it Woffles or Kaellin?). I’m pretty sure it was G, since I probably dropped the line during our HORSE SNG. Whatever the case, the line was simple: “CHOO CHOO!”

CHOO CHOO, bitches! It’s my new BOOM! For those not following, BOOM became a common refrain in poker blogger tournaments whenever a player got lucky. At least that’s how I think it is used. Whatever the case, the flurry of “BOOM”s in the chat box was at least the kindling for the bad manner brush fire that swept through the poker blogosphere about a month ago. Some people thought that the smack talk had gone from fun to obnoxious and rude. Hence, BOOM, a seemingly innocuous, if not idiotic, term became symbolic of unsportsman-like chat.

BOOM is really harmless, but it’s taken on a bigger meaning (which, mind you, seems to have cooled off, as these things generally do). So, it’s time to put BOOM back in its boombox and bust out a new obnoxious phrase to spread amongst the masses.

CHOO CHOO! It’s got everything you want in a catch phrase. It’s fun to say, particularly if you take on a train-whistle lilt to your voice. It’s fun to type, what with the repetition and all. It’s even fun to look at. With BOOM, you get two O’s, but with CHOO CHOO, you get 4! FOUR!

Plus, it has a slightly relevant meaning. CHOO CHOO means the whoop ass train is coming. Last stop, First Place Station, with stops at Donkey Plaza, Suckout Junction, and Double Ups Ville. If you are playing O8, you can even make stops at Upper Pot-chop and Lower Pot-chop.

And, unlike BOOM, CHOO CHOO has an extra touch of absurdity. I mean, after all, BOOM is the sound of disaster and explosion. CHOO CHOO is the sound of childhood toys and cheesy stop-motion animation.

Look, people, when Einstein stuck lead in a piece of wood and called it a pencil, they called him crazy too. And don’t forget a little, yet awesome, phrase that spread, herps-like, from my very abode to all over this fine nation. LEMON! Lemon, indeed.

Now, I don’t play blogger tournaments often enough to really get CHOO CHOO! going, but I expect an influx of cash, so I might be back, beeches. But when I do return, be careful. Cause next stop is Ass Whooping Terminal.

Got another BOOM substitute? Feel free to share.

Until next time, make mine CHOO CHOO!

When I first began playing online poker, I set myself a $20/month budget on one of the few sites that had micro-stakes and allowed players to deposit for $20 minimum (as opposed to $50). I was a law school student with limited funds, and I justified spending $20/month on online poker because it was significantly less than the cost of purchasing one video game per month. Online poker was very much a video game to me, and I would regularly lose my $20 buy-in, first with $10 and $5 SNGs and then toward the end of the month, with $.50 and $.25 buy-in SNGs.

When you are playing at stakes so small, the lack of significant stakes can really affect the way one thinks about the game. The buy-ins and payouts no longer resemble money. Instead, they become symbolic markers. Win a $.25 SNG and that $2.50 is not two dollars and fifty cents. It’s 10 tokens to play more .25 SNGs, or more accurately, it’s two shots at the $1 SNGs.

While I’m not currenly playing $.25 tournaments, I am beginning to revert to the token realm of poker. I have withdrawn thousands of dollars from my online bankroll over the last few years, but during my significant last withdrawal, I left myself with crumbs. At the time, I think I had under $300 online to continue my online poker odyssey, but I had also gotten a taste for higher buy-in SNGs and cash games, and after a couple of rough weeks, I was down to fumes.

I’ve continued to operate on fumes for month. Certainly, one of my problems is my inability to remain consistent online. My efforts to curb excessive play and inebriated play has given me a semblence of self control once again. Even so, I’m down to less than $100 online and I find myself in an interesting place. I’m back to seeing poker as a videogame.

Last night, I played a $5 HORSE SNG with GCox, who was willing to slum it with me. I placed 2nd (only after my opponent got lucky on two HE hands at the end) for a profit of around $7, a pittance for my efforts. Even so, I felt a sense of accomplishment, akin to beating a mini-mission in a videogame. I knew I had more to do to be where I want to be, but that small victory felt refreshing.

I also was extremely tempted to play the Mookie last night. The Mookie is one helluva temptation. $11 buy-in poker with my invisible internet friends. Sounds great! Of course, my bankroll really can’t afford that buy-in if I’m being responsible, but the video game mentality can cause a bit of self-delusion. In videogames, you usually get three lives. In poker, it’s technically unlimited lives…as long as you have enough quarters to keep plugging into the machine. Still, ultimately the 1am end time for the Mook kept me away. At least I’ve got that going for me.

Poker as a video game isn’t the ideal situation, but it is better than the alternatives. One alternative is to redeposit significant funds, something I cannot justify doing, since any money I put online comes from wifey Kim and my savings (or my live bankroll, which I hope to perserve). I also have a weird fetish for building up a bankroll the old fashioned way, through hard work. Another alternative is to treat the bankroll building exercise as a serious endeavor, but the pressure and frustrating nature of micro-limits (where I would have to play if I was seriously following bankroll management) are bitter pills to swallow.

So, instead, online poker will remain a video game played for tokens that are denominated with a “fictional” dollar sign in front. While it may not be real poker, at least its a fun game.

Pigeons are one of nature’s most under-rated creatures. Known in local circles as flying rats, these noble creatures of the air are actually a marvel of evolution and the triumph of mother nature over man.

The pigeons of our cities are descendents of European birds designed to live on cliff sides. Cliff sides offered a perfect place to build nests safe from predators, and it didn’t hurt that pigeons need little to make nests.

The pigeon first emigrated to America when their cliff-dwelling predecessors were transported to the New World for food and their message-carrying abilities. Once in the United States, pigeons escaped from captivity and thrived in their new environment.

Then came cities, and pigeons that had to scrap on cliff sides suddenly had man-made industrial cliffs and ample foodstuffs. It didn’t hurt that pigeons, having evolved for an environment with limited food options, were natural scavengers with an omnivore’s diet. Consequently, the cliff-dwelling aviators thrived and continue to thrive in today’s cities.

But pigeons are much more than opportunistic birds. Their innate homing ability, combined with their quick speed and ability to fly long distances, made the lowly pigeon an extremely useful bird during past wars.

The feral rock pigeon, the pigeon most common in cities today, has a natural homing ability that allows it to return to its home from any location in the world, even if the pigeon has no idea where it is. Scientists have still not come to a definitive conclusion about the pigeon’s homing ability, but various theories have been proposed. Perhaps the most interesting is the idea that homing pigeons are able to sense the Earth’s magnetic fields and use this sixth sense to return to their point of origin. Two other theories postulate that pigeons rely on the position of the sun and visible cues to make their way home, or upon atmospheric smells. When near home, pigeons also rely on visible landmarks and cues. Whatever the case, the pigeon’s natural homing ability proved useful in wartime conditions, where smoke from explosions often made visibility nil for the flying creatures. Even with zero visibility, pigeons were able to find their way home.

The pigeon’s homing ability is not the only thing that makes pigeons ideal as message carriers. Pigeons can fly up to 62 m.p.h. for over 10 hours at a stretch. That’s 620 miles in one trip, an impressive and useful feat for a bird commonly thought of as vermin.

Their homing ability and their ability to cover large distances quickly made pigeons a natural messenger for modern man. The first evidence of man utilizing the pigeon dates back as early as the 1100′s in the Middle East. Homing pigeons were also used by Genghis Khan.

In more modern times, the United States relied heavily on pigeons during wartime. In World War I, for instance, American pigeon Cher Ami was awarded a French metal for heroic service for successfully delivering 12 messages. On its last trip, Cher Ami successfully delivered a message that saved the lives of over 200 U.S. soldiers, even after Cher was shot in the wing.

And here’s another fun fact: Pigeons are largely monogomous. Once finding a mate, pigeons will stay with that mate until death. Only then, does the majestic pigeon seek new mates.

Also: There are indications that pigeons are among the few animals to pass the “mirror test,” a test to determine whether an animal can recognize its own reflection. Other animals with passing grades: chimpanzees, orangutans, dolphins, elephants and man!

Until next time, make mine pigeons!