High On Poker

Oh no. It’s a moral conundrum. (CONUNDRUM!)*

Bro-in-law Marc is more than just a b-i-l. He is probably one of my best buddies, a marked shift from when I first met the guy and instantly disliked him. This upcoming Thursday, he is undergoing a surgical procedure on his hand. He will not be under general anesthesia, but rather localized anesthesia, which would suggest that the surgery, which sounds major, is likely not as bad as originally expected.

Marc, the man that he is, has asked that his family not join him to the hospital. His family, being the family that they are, have ignored his request. Nearest I can tell, wifey Kim, her mother, and her grandfather will be at the hospital this Thursday to lend their support. I believe they may be having dinner together too.

Meanwhile in poker land, I am in 3rd place on the Tuna Club tournament leader board, 3 points away from the two players tied for first. The leaderboard is a race to 35 pts, with 4pts for a win and one point less for each spot down to 4th. Once a player hits 35 pts, the prize pool is split amongst the players in the top spots (1-3rd or maybe 1-4th…I’m not great with details). The leaders currently have 11 points; I have 8; the nearest competition has 6. In other words, we have time before we hit 35 pts, but it is anyone’s game.

Here is the conflict: Tuna only has tournaments on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Sundays. For this week, my only chance to play is Thursday, the same day as Marc’s surgery.

If Marc insists that people not show up at his surgery, but his family insists on showing up anyway, and simultaneously there is a tournament that is fairly crucial to the leaderboard and a potential long-term payoff, which should Jordan attend?

Partial credit will be given if you show your work.

Until next time, make mine poker!

*The first person to correctly identify in the comments the source of this line will receive $5 on FullTilt or Stars, courtesy of the HighOnPoker prize closer.

Oh yeah, its true. High on Poker turned 5 in the middle of March. Time to celebrate with a cake made from matzoh.

L’Chaim!

Until next time, make mine poker!

If anyone planned to play the last longer bet arranged by JamyHawk and I, the game is going to be adjourned one week from March 31 (original date) to April 7.  That is all.

Until next time, make mine poker!

I do.

Another mixed game win from High on Poker.

CHOO CHOO!

Last night, after work, while wifey Kim was celebrating her friend’s birthday by drinking a bit too much, I took the opportunity to return to the Tuna Club a week after my $900 1st place win ($900 via chop, 1st place win via ridiculously pushing all-in for the points after agreeing to top money in the chop).

I ran my usual routine, changing at work, this time into regular jeans and a graphic t-shirt with a pigeon and the phrase, From the Streets. It was different than my usual cargo pants and superhero or HoP t-shirt, but I’m trying my best not to be a cliche. I still had my sunglasses, ball cap, and iPod, so I guess I wasn’t trying too hard.

I arrived at the poker room with about 15 minutes to spare and said hello to the many familiar faces. I paid my $130 and took my seat fairly early as the room filled up. By the time the game was about to start, the table was considerably more full with tons of familiar faces.

In the 1s was Nick, the guy who came in 2nd last week. Nick and I get along well. He seems like a nice guy in general, friendly, and I suppose we got to spend a decent amount of time together the week before. Winning money together could’ve technically been a “bonding moment” in the loosest sense of the word, particularly since we didn’t get into many confrontations (over pots or otherwise) when we made it heads-up.

To his left in the 2s was Harris, a mild-mannered, smart player, who is slightly older than most of the crowd. Harris is always friendly and classy, so it was good to see him and chat briefly.

To his left in the 3s was Guy. Interesting backstory between me and Guy, who for all I know may know about this blog. Whatever. The thing with Guy is that he is incredibly skilled. I’ve played with him for years, since the Genoa days, and consistently, he would cash in these tourneys. There was a good while where I avoided the guy like the plague, as much in admiration as anything. I wanted to be Guy, insofar as I wanted to be super consistent and respected. But that may’ve changed last week.

Last week, Guy got a little pissed when I joked about a hand. For a brief recap, I limped UTG with AQ, a MP player raised, Guy pushed for a pittance and I over-pushed to isolate Guy, only to have MP wake up with AA. I sucked out on both of them and then joked that it was Guy’s fault for pushing all-in and tempting me. It was absurdist shtick, but it was also the wrong time and place. Guy got visibly annoyed and I even went so far as to apologize, but it was clear that a week had passed and Guy still wanted little to do with me.

Perhaps that is paranoia, but during the pre-game chit-chat, Guy and I didn’t even acknowledge each other with a nod. It didn’t bother me much, mostly because on some level, I wanted Guy to be annoyed with me. And from the look on his face, he was generally in a bad mindset, so I hoped to take advantage of that when the game started.

To his immediate left in the 3s was Jesus Manson, a cross between Jesus and Charles Manson. He and I played together the week before and I remembered how universally poorly he played. Good stuff.

There may’ve been another player in there, because to my immediate right in what I believed to be the 5s was Liezl, a player I knew from the old Wall Street Game. Much like Steve the week before, I hadn’t seen Liezl in a long time, so we spent most of the tournament catching up. She had a baby about 8 months ago, and amazingly she was already back on the poker horse. God bless this group of ragtag degenerates. It’s like a dysfunctional extended family.

To my left were a bunch of players I didn’t pay much mind. Boat was there, a tall, black dude who looks 30 but is actually 50. I’m sure there were others there who I chatted with, but right now, its all a blank. Most of my focus was to my right.

In one of the earlier hands, I took down a pot against Liezl. I think I may’ve won the pot immediately prior and decided to limp on the button with 95c because there were lots of limpers. The flop was K-high with two clubs. It folded to Liezl who bet out 600. Blinds weer up to 50/100 I think, so that was probably about pot. I was the only player to call. We both checked the blank turn and then a club hit on the river. She checked. I bet 800 and she called. I showed my flush and she showed KQh and then stated, “That’s not how I remember you. You don’t chase.” Yikes!

When I first met Liezl, she wasn’t exactly the most adept poker player, but she has improved leaps and bounds to become a very well-rounded player. The fact that she remembered my play so well let me know that I had to be wary of playing pots with her. She was pretty correct. I’m not usually one to chase a flush draw like that, but in that particular hand, I felt like gambling.

A few hands later, I was dealt KJo and limped before Guy, in one of the blinds, raised. There were lots of limpers and I decided to call to see what Guy was up to. I had been watching him more carefully lately and he seemed to be keen on pushing thin edges and throwing his weight around moreso than I had seen in the past. Part of the reason why I called with KJ was because I felt him unraveling. He looked tired, his hair was longer than usual and pulled back, and he generally appeared defeated.

The flop was Jack-high with, I think, two hearts. He bet out a large-ish sum and I called. The turn was another blank. He bet out again and I hesitantly called. I had top pair and I was slightly worried that he was ahead, but with what? Other than a flopped set or perhaps AJ, I didn’t see much opportunity for him to be ahead. More likely, he was betting the flush draw. Guy is a smart, um, guy, and smart guys bet the flush draw there so that when it hits they get paid off. Based on his bet sizing, which I can no longer recall, I also felt that he was not strong as he wanted to seem.

The river was another Jack, non-heart, so the flush never came. Guy put in his bet, this time a good majority of the chips he had left over. I want to say that his bet was 2500 and he had maybe 1800 left behind, if that. I thought for a moment and then announced all-in. He folded in disgust, and I had created a nice lead. I also created a bit of respect at the table.

Things stayed much the same for a while. A player was added to the table, making it 11-handed. The player, Mike, was placed between Liezl and I and it didn’t take long before we were chatting. Mike was an interesting guy. He was dressed impeccably in a suit, clearly coming directly from work. I go the sense that he took poker seriously, but that he was still somewhat inexperienced. He made some comments about plays, mostly his own, that I thought were really off. For instance, he took out two players by limping with 99 and then calling all-ins against overcards in both instances. Each time, he seemed apologetic, as though he got lucky, professing that 99 was not a strong hand. Um, yes it is. In fact, you should’ve been raising preflop, and not limping, but I’m not one to give free lessons.

A little while after all of this, Mike limped in EP and then folded to an all-in, who eventually showed AQ. Mike lamented that he folded AK, which made no sense since he was so stacked, but as he explained it, “I took out two guys with 99, so AK is not such a strong hand.” Is anything strong to this guy?

All that said, Mike was a very nice guy and we got along well. In fact, he seemed to be having a crisis of conscience when he sucked out on a player. This makes no sense in context of his other players, but he faced a river all-in with a flush draw and an inside straight draw (A4h on a 23xx board) against a set of 2s and made the call of 6600 into a 16k pot, “sucking out” on the river with a 5c. How he got to the river with A4h when he thought 99 was so weak, I don’t know, but for the next three hands, he was concerned about how he had played it, mostly justifying the call. I, naturally, backed him up, mostly because I wanted him to keep playing big pots and making bold but questionable plays.

By the time we were down to the final table, I was close to the chip leader with 19k or so, with Mike ahead of me at around 20k+. There were a few 10k and maybe 12k stacks, but he and I were in the best shape. At the final table, I took the 9s, with Liezl on my immediate left in the 10s and Mike on my immediate right in the 8s. It was only a matter of time before I experienced my second big hand of the tournament.

I held AJo and after Mike limped in EP, I raised to 1800 from the 300/600 blinds. The action folded around to Mike and we saw a flop, J98, rainbow. I was happy to have TPTK until Mike opened the betting with 5k. That was a large sum, about 1/3 of my remaining stack, so I took my time. I considered raising, but part of me was concerned about a set. Mike had limp-called twice before with 99, so if he had it again, I was in a lot of trouble. I decided to call and see what came. The turn was a King. Hmm. It was hardly an ideal card. That said, Mike put out 10,000 and announced it as he did so. That would almost put me all-in, except for about 2k, so this became a decision for my tournament life. I had enough chips to fold, but something didn’t feel right. I took my time and worked through the action. I was leaning toward calling, since something seemed fishy and if I were right, I would be the table super-stack, but my decision came a lot more easy when I looked to my right.

Mike was staring me down. It was that simple. I pushed and he had no choice but to clal 2k into the 30k+ pot. He showed Q9s, for a pair of 9s. The river was a blank and I took down the pot and secured a huge chip stack.

It was all about the stare down. Strong means weak. And it was frankly that easy.

Across the table, players were amazed at the call. I tend to get that reputation too. The guy who makes crazy calls (and is correct). I never explained to the table the basis of my call. I actually kinda fibbed a bit, suggesting that I figured I’d double up or go home without thought to my opponents’ cards. A couple of guys said that they put Mike on QT for the flopped straight, but I thankfully didn’t buy it at the time.

From there, I sat back as much as possible. I had a 35k+ stack and my nearest competition was at 12k-15k. Blinds had increased to 600/1200, so players would be dropping relatively quickly soon.

Down to four players, someone asked about a save for fourth place. I refused as per usual and offered a final chop if anyone were interested. We didn’t discuss the breakdown because no one seemed to want to take me up on my offer, so instead, I sat back some more while Liezl destroyed the table.

I don’t know what she was drinking, but she made some crazy calls, which may or may not have been correct given the stack sizes and blinds. She called one all-in with 92c for crying out loud! Whatever the case, she ended up doing most of the heavy lifting and we started heads-up with my 40k to her 32k or so.

I like Liezl a lot. She is one of the few people who I play poker with that I think really gets me and likes me. Maybe that’s a silly thing to say, but when I play at clubs, the conversation is usually pretty superficial, but I know Liezl in a different way because of the Wall Street Games and she has always been nothing but kind. The same is true of her husband, Viet, and collectively, they are probably the nicest poker-couple I know.

Heads-up, I couldn’t help but offer a chop at first. I don’t think either of us realized how close we were in chips, so the original offer was not exactly 50/50, although no actual numbers were discussed. All the while, we told the dealer to keep dealing. Eventually, we realized that we should just play a bit more.

Liezl was relentless. She was either raising preflop and taking my 1000/2000 blinds or betting every flop enough to force me to fold with my terrible cards. I even tried a bluff or two preflop and postflop that she picked off.

All was not looking good, and I found myself even with Liezl when I offered a 50/50 chop half-heartedly. She didn’t take it since we were having so much fun heads-up. Her fun came from slowly taking my chips. My fun came from the rail, which consisted of a couple of the busted players and two chicks waiting for the cash game. They loved our banter, mostly because Liezl and I were so close that we could give each other shit and take it in stride.

I don’t remember how it happened, but I won a hand that put me back on top, although not by a lot. Then I was dealt KK and after getting a call on my preflop raise, saw an AJx flop. I didn’t like it when Liezl pushed, but she was bullying me so I opted to call. She had J9 and failed to improve and I took down first place for the second week in a row, worth $1300 ($1170 profit) and an additional 4 points on the leaderboard. Apparently the leaderboard pays out when a player hits 35 points and after my two wins, I’ve got 8. That puts me in 2nd place overall, with 1st place holding 10 points. As long as I can hold onto a top-3 spot, I get paid when someone breaks the threshhold, but forget that. I want to break it myself.

A couple of interesting stats about my tournament experiences at the Tuna Club.

Total Tourneys Played: 21

Total Cashes: 12

Total Won: $5183

Until next time, make mine poker!

First off, for all you commentors out there, my crack staff (and by that I mean staff of crackheads) have installed a new feature on HighOnPoker.com, the #1 source for all your Jordan news (nation of Jordan excluded). Now, when you leave a comment, you can click the little box and get all future comments on that post sent to you. Its a fairly common feature on most blogs, and now you can do it at HighOnPoker! I know, the excitement is palpable.

After the last post, there were a series of comments about playing the role of asshole at the poker table. I am somehow proud to say that some people I’ve played with could readily identify my assholery, although they’ve all come to accept it as shtick. One of my common lines amongst new friends is that they’ve really come to know me when they stop taking anything I say seriously. For instance, wifey Kim can usually tune out my obnoxious comments. Now that’s true love.

It’s not that I am an asshole per se, but I do tend to have an acerbic sense of humor and I can easily slip into teasing or snarky behavior. It’s something that is only relevant insofar as I think there are really two sources of assholery at the poker table. The first is my type of assholery, which is simply chattiness that maybe goes too far; the second is a bit more nefarious and finds its roots in traditional assholery. Those are the comments born from anger or frustration or aggression.

All that said, there are really two questions that have been bouncing around my head: (1) Is there a benefit to being the table asshole? and (2) How do I balance being a snarky jokester and being a complete prick?

So, is there a benefit to being an asshole at the poker table? I would say most definitely there are benefits, but they are likely outweighed by the negatives. Benefits include controlling your image and likely inducing action or pushing players from their normal game.

Image-building is a benefit shared by both sides of the argument, asshole or nice guy. I am a huge proponent of understanding how you appear to your competition, but that does not mean that you necessarily want to control your image by donning the black hat and nefarious mustache. That really leads us to the second benefit, causing tilt or pushing players from their normal game.

I’ll admit that I have used assholery before to try to get other players to play poorly. A perfect example is the seminal work, “Slowrolling Cocksucker (Turning Stone Trip Report)“:

“YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU DID, COCKSUCKER!”

I was enraged, in a sense, but I was also very much in control of my actions and emotions. I wanted to put the fear of god in him because up until this point, everyone was putting up with his bullshit. I wanted him shamed and I wanted him worried for his own safety. All of this is my way of saying that I wanted to tilt him or at least throw him off of his game enough so that he started making errors. After all, for all of his crazy play, he definitely knew what he was doing and he was running the table from a position of fear.

Granted, this was hardly my shining moment, but I used what tools I had for a very specific purpose. I suppose, looking back, it was actually a proper play to be an asshole there. Frankly, he started it with the slowroll, but that alone is not sufficient justification. Sometimes, it is helpful to put fear into another person or irritate them enough that they play poorly. But it should be very limited. Why? I’m glad you asked.

The reason is simply that no one likes the asshole. No one minds the jokester, usually, but the asshole is universally reviled. In Turning Stone, I could play that role because I wasn’t going back to that room in a long time and my primary goal was to simply make money that session. I wasn’t looking for repeat business or to keep my “customers” happy. I was taking a shock and awe approach and then salted the land as I made my exit. In this very limited instance, being an asshole made perfect sense. But that isn’t always the case.

In contrast, being an asshole is probably never a good idea in a game where you expect to see the players or return to the room again. In a perfect world, most of your opponents are going to be playing for fun or at least want to have fun as a component of the game. Obviously, though, when there is a real asshole at the table, the fun quickly dissolves. That’s what happened on my last day in AC, when a guy called me the “cocksucker” for flopping a full house and trapping him for a double-up. I didn’t like the assholery, I found that it did throw me off of my game slightly, and so, I packed it up, taking the asshole’s money with me.

I don’t want to be that guy. In fact, I really am not that guy. When it comes to suffering suckouts or other forms of bad luck, I am usually more than happy to suck it up and laugh it off. I’m a big fan of not letting them see you sweat. It just causes your opponents to circle you, like sharks on chum. Yes, announcing that you have terrible luck is like announcing that you are chum. Keep that in mind, folks.

On the other hand, my assholery comes into full bloom when I am winning or when, ironically, I joke about my own shortcomings. For instance, at the recent Tuna Game, I joked about how I was surely going to hit my straight with my AQ v. AA v. 66. Obviously, the jokes were essentially a defense mechanism from saying, “I’m CHUM! I MESSED UP AND NOW I’M SCREWED!” I find a false sense of bravado can be seen as absurdist funny, much in the same way as I find it funny to announce, “I didn’t want to play this stupid game anyway” when I bust from a live tournament.

Sometimes, though, those announcements turn out to be true, like when my AQ did result in a straight, busting the AA and 66. Then, suddenly my self-deprecating humor sounds a lot more like gloating. In that particular instance, my assholery was compounded by joking about the 66 player’s involvement in the hand. Like usual, my intention was a bit of absurdist humor, blaming the short-stacked 66 for inducing my poor play against 66. I jokingly blamed 66 for my suckout, but 66 had just busted and he wasn’t in such a jovial mood.

That is another gimmick I’ve used before, blaming an obviously innocent player for my bad play or results. For instance, in the past, when someone calls me down and takes down a pot, I’d joke, “You were supposed to fold there with your top set. Ridiculous!” Once again, at its heart, its a deflection from the reality that I fucked up. I don’t want people focusing on my loss or reading into it that it has emotionally affected me or threw me from my game. I want them focused on how much fun I’m having, despite the loss, and I want the rest of the table to have fun too.

Astin, in the comments, pointed out that it wouldn’t be the same if I didn’t play with some of my asshole shtick in blogger games. He pointed out specifically how I like to call out players and announce that I am going after their chips. Usually, I pull this routine after losing a hand. I then say, “It’s ok. I’ll just get them back with interest.” In the right group, its joking banter. Astin gets it. Hopefully, most of the bloggers get it too. Usually in those spots, I won’t even try to get the chips back, unless it happens naturally. Otherwise, I’d be the monkey getting off of my usual game because of an emotional snafu. I suppose on some level, beyond a deflection, this is also a way to hopefully put my opponent off-kilter, at least insofar as he or she will assume I am coming after them light when I’m next in a pot with them.

But this is about finding the right time and place. With fellow bloggers, hopefully my reputation precedes me and people can take everything I say with a dash of salt. Its much like how my close acquaintances can block out some of my snarky comments or at least not react as though I am being 100% serious. Its when I pull some of these shticks in places where I am not surrounded by friends that I may be crossing the line.

A perfect example happened in my Saturday session at the Trop. A player two seats to my right took down a pot by calling me down with pocket JJ on a QxxKx board. At showdown, he asked me repeatedly, even after I mucked, if I had the Queen. It annoyed me to the point that I jokingly put him on notice; I was going to take my chips back. In the end, Roose got his chips instead, but for a moment there, I could sense things getting heated between us.

The reality was, I had chosen the wrong time and place. Even if JJ knew I was joking, the rest of the table may not’ve, and regardless, I didn’t need to be playing the role of table asshole. In that case, I would’ve been better of saying “nice hand” and leaving it at that. The guy was not super-stacked, he was not a primary target at the table, and he wasn’t playing so well that I needed to take him off of his game. It was just pure knee-jerk shtick without any forethought behind it. The result is that I became the table asshole, and instead of being the funtime guy who gets paid off, I became the prick who no one wanted to succeed.

I’m not sure it was that dramatic, but it sure as hell could’ve been, without any real benefit. If I’ve come to any conclusions, its that I need to be more wary of where I am when I get all snarky and that I need to identify when it is snark with a purpose or snarkiness as a defense mechanism. On some level, assholery is a useful tool in my arsenal, but it is not a universal tool and it should be used sparingly for those times that I really want to push a player off of his or her game. The jokes can continue, but I’ve got to be much more careful about the circumstances. Joking with friends is ok; joking with wary strangers, less so. Joking about losing is ok; joking about sucking out on someone else, less so. Joking about my own faults is ok; jokingly blaming others is less so.

Until next time, make mine poker!

After losing two tournaments and some lackluster cash play, Roose and I decided to change things up with some table games. I usually avoid table games unless I am with wifey Kim, but I promised Roose to cut loose a bit this trip.

The Trop was packed, which was a good sign for AC and the recently bankrupt hotel, but a bad thing for anyone looking for reasonably priced table games without huge crowds. We decided to take a walk to the Hilton, the closest casino.

The Hilton still had its share of people, but like always, it lagged behind. The crowds were a tad more sparse and the players in general looked more seedy. We walked the casino floor and perhaps Roose stopped somewhere to play something. I don’t rightly recall, other than we were out of there pretty fast and heading back to our hotel.

Back at the Trop, we hit up some Pai Gow, where I scratched out a $50 profit. Roose didn’t fair as well and after loosing $50, he moved over to roulette. When we both met up after, he was up and I held onto my $50.

Part of our plan was to play 2/4 limit hold’em, which is normally torture, but a lot more bearable if your goal is to make prop bets on each flop and drink as much as possible. Sadly, there was a line for 2/4, which meant not only would we have to wait, but that we’d likely be sent to different tables. That wouldn’t do, so instead we went upstairs to play some Israeli Poker and order in some room service.

In the end, we didn’t return to the casino floor. We did, however, discuss poker, and I came to a realization that only someone who is as close to me as Roose could help me realize. I was an asshole.

More accurately, Roose pointed out that sometimes at the table, I play the role of table asshole, and it wasn’t cool. I tried to explain myself away (it wasn’t my fault that people start with me; I don’t mind the image; etc.), but in the end, I realized that Roose was right.

Sometimes, the excitement or adrenaline or competition of poker can fuel me in a very negative way. I get confrontational. Other times, my jokes are not received well by others and it can go the wrong way, similar to my recent issue with Guy at my last trip to the Tuna Club. But whatever the cause, the point was that it wasn’t cool. I didn’t want to be that guy. So, I thanked Roose and resolved to keep my mouth shut more often. I would have to test this new strategy the next day.

We ended up crashing out and waking up early the next morning.

It was about 7:30 when I heard Roose rustling in his bed. Last night, like all nights with Roose, it was like sleeping in a woodworking shop, with heavy machinery running all night. I had prepared for this, having shared a room with Roose from time to time since we were 3, but even with headphones in, his snores were dominant.

At 7:30, I just wanted to sleep some more, but part of our plan when we gave up on 2/4 the night before was to get some poker done in the morning. After a while of hearing noise, I stated (without removing my headphones or the bandanna I tied around my eyes to keep out the light) “What’s the plan?” I heard no response, so I asked again, “What’s the plan, Davey?” Nothing. I took off my blindfold and saw that he wasn’t even in his bed, but rather in the bathroom. Fine by me. I got another 30 mins of sleep in before I finally really woke up.

We packed up our bags and checked out of the room, stopping at the car to dump off our stuff. Then we returned to the poker room, where I immediately was seated at a 1/2 NLHE table. Roose was moving a bit slower and didn’t put his name on the list, but he did rail me for the last 30 minutes of the hour-long or so session.

When I first came to the table, a player in the 7s had literally two full racks of $5 chips ($1,000) and a third rack that was about halfway full. Usually, you cannot keep your chips in a rack while you play, so I assumed that he was preparing to call it a night. The dude was white, kinda athletic looking, with stubble on his face and light-ish, short hair. He looked like he was having the time of his life, although he also looked about ready to leave, sorta half-sitting on one folded leg.

To his left was an empty seat, and I headed there first, seeing as how I wanted position on this monster stack, but then I saw the two black guys in the 9s and 10s. They both had decent stacks over $400 each, and if Three Racks was leaving, I still wanted position on the Brothers. So, I took the 1s.

From my side of the table, it was clear who was running the show. It wasn’t the Three Rack Kid or the Brothers, but rather, the Three Rack Brothers, all three of them apparently good friends. From what I gathered from their conversations with dealers, they had met playing poker and became friends. It seemed like this was a reference to a prior trip, since by this session, the three were good ole pals. Since they all had such significant stacks, they were also controlling the action with large bets over and over and over, with Three Rack Kid showing down shit cards repeatedly. It was clear he was playing any 2.

Because of their aggression and my continued cold cards, I wasn’t getting anywhere, losing about $80 of my original $300 buy-in. Three Rack, meanwhile, was still riding high, busting a poor girl with his AA against her KK, all-in preflop. Obviously, she didn’t respect his raises.

Meanwhile, the Three were patting each other on the back and talking themselves up, including how well they were playing. It was like a fucking circle jerk right at the table.

Roose came by when I was near my peak of frustration. “Let’s just go, then,” he suggested. It was a decent suggestion, but I explained back to him, “I’m just waiting on a hand. Once I have a hand, I’m going to get paid off by these guys.”

And so, as I said, it happened. I got 77, a top 10 hand, but barely. Preflop, Brother 1 raised to $12. It folded to me and I raised to $32. It folded to the Kid and he called. I think Brother #1 folded.

As the dealer was preparing the flop, I announced, “Blind check.” I did it because frankly, I wasn’t sure what my best move would be on any given flop, and I knew he would be aggro, so I’d likely be facing a raise no matter what. At least with a blind check, its just as likely that he’ll be straight bluffing when I bet and he inevitably raises me. I dunno. Perhaps this was a weak play, but I wanted more information before I had to act.

The flop was 667. Yep. I flopped a boat. Since I had blind checked, Three Racks led out with a bet of around $50. I took my time, finally grumbling before I call. The turn was a J. I had blind checked again, and this time, he bet $80 or so. “I’m all-in,” I announced. He insta-called. The river came down as a nine and instantly, Three Racks threw his cards onto the table face-up, showed 8To and shouted triumphantly, “I HIT MY STRAIGHT!” He showed 8To. His boys erupted with joy. “OH DAMN! HE HIT HIS STRAIGHT! DAMN!” I quietly tabled my cards face-up and said to the dealer, “full house.” I then sat there politely while the monkeys celebrated. The dealer announced louder, “Full House takes the pot,” and pushed the chips to me. Three Racks did a double-take and then reality set in. “What?” It had finally dawned on him. Roose, meanwhile, was in my ear: “Just keep quiet.” I took his advice. On other occasions, I may’ve said something here. Either a joke at my own expense, or whatever, but I realized that there was no reason to talk. Just take your chips.

I stacked up the chips while Three Racks went on and on about how lucky I was. He had read my blind checks as a sign that I had a weak hand, which I suppose is accurate as to the first blind-check, and had hung himself in the process of trying to push me off of the pot. He went on and on in this way about how lucky I was, and I just kept my mouth shut until probably a good four or five hands later, when I conceded to his still-complaining ass, “Yeah, I got really lucky there.” Of course, I just wanted to shut him up. I didn’t think it was luck. Shit, I called the situation before the cards were dealt (“I just have to hit one hand and these donks will pay me off”). But none of that shit mattered anymore. Let him think what he wants. I liked him thinking I was clueless.

I messed up a hand against Brother #2. I held KJ, called his preflop raise, but folded to his flop re-raise on the Jack-high board. I feared AJ based on his bold re-raise or perhaps a set or overpair based on the action, but he showed KQ for nada. That was the first sign it was time to leave. I think all the talk was getting to me.

The second and final sign was when Three Racks said, “I can’t believe that cocksucker got so lucky.” It was loud and clear. Everyone heard it. Roose reassured me, “Don’t say a word, bro. We could leave now, if you want. Use me as an excuse.” Without Roose, this is where I would’ve called the guy out for being a fucking tool who didn’t know what the fuck he was talking about. What can I say? I have a lot of anger pent up inside and these are some of the best opportunities to release it, but Roose had suggested a better path.

I grabbed a rack while Three Racks continued to lament what a lucky cocksucker I am and began to pack up my chips.

“You’re just going to leave?” Three Racks was practically pleading.

“Yep. He’s my ride,” I gestured to Roose. “What can I do?”

And then I left with that prick’s money because he was too mouthy to realize that he was forcing me to leave with his cash. Sucker.

The ride home was uneventful except for our regular stop at White House Sub Shop. Overall, I think I won a little under $100 for the trip, with about $50 of it from poker. It wasn’t the most financially successful trip, but I learned some self control that will hopefully pay off in dividends in the future.

Until next time, make mine poker!

Time is already stripping away my memory. I don’t know how Hoy does it. He plays a day-long or multi-day tournament and can recount hand after hand. I don’t know if he has a note-taking system, but god damn, that’s detail! I try to take notes when I can, but sometimes I just find myself in the moment.

After returning to the Trop from the Showboat, I made my way to the poker room and put myself on a list for 1/2 NLHE. Roose also joined me on the list and then walked with me to the cashier to get our chips. I bought $200 worth of redbirds when Roose looked at me quizzically, “Don’t you usually buy in for $300?” He was right. I usually do. But I have been buying in a bit shorter lately, partly because I hope it will get me to pay better attention to the table conditions before I add my extra $100. I explained this to Roose and he followed suit.

I wonder, as an aside, what it also does for table image. What do you think when a person sits at 1/2 with the maximum, as opposed to a middle-sized stack? The guy with the full stack must appear more confident or perhaps experienced or at least bankrolled, since he is willing to put more on the table. The guy with the $200 stack probably seems weaker by comparison and is either afraid to lose more or does not have much money behind him.

Whatever the case, I sat down at a table and made quick friends with my neighbors, who were chatting about a guy across the table with a big stack of about $900. “Was he getting lucky or is he good?”, I asked. I’m more than happy to take free info when available. “A little of both,” was the answer I received.

I watched the table for a while and saw some soft spots, mostly guys who looked like they were forcing the action. The table seemed so good that I even called Roose over from the next table over when a seat opened up. Roose happily moved from his other table and sat about as far away from me as possible.

I don’t recall particular hands, but I do recall Roose building up his stack +$300 or so before he took a harsh hit. He held KT, which was arguably too weak to play in the first place. I believe he limped and then called a raise. Roose was in position, of that I am sure, so perhaps the call wasn’t terrible.

The flop came down T94. It checked to Roose and he bet out a decent sum. A loose player (the guy playing catch-up) called. The turn was a random diamond creating a flush draw. Again, the first player checked and Roose bet out, getting a call. The river was an offsuit King. Roose now had top two pair, so when the Catch-Up guy open bet a large amount, Roose took his time before calling.

From my eye, I figured Roose for 99 or 44 for a flopped set. I feared that the earlier player (who incidentally was the preflop raiser from the blinds) held KK for a rivered better set. Nope. Roose held KT, as we had discussed, but the other guy had QJd. Roose lost most of his profit, but held onto about $100 or so.

I only remember one hand, which makes sense, since it was probably one of the only hands I actually played beyond seeing the flop. A white guy two seats to my left seemed to be splashing around a lot. We both saw a flop for a limp with me in position and a couple of other players in the hand. The Queen-high flop did not look like it hit anyone so I bet out. He was the only caller. The turn was a King and I bet out again; he called again. On the river, he checked and I checked. I was on air, so he took down the pot, but first he showed his hand, JJ.

I mucked my cards, but the guy wouldn’t let it go. When he showed his hand, he lamented, “I must be beat,” but after I mucked, he turned to me and asked, “You didn’t have the Queen?” “No,” I answered briefly. “You didn’t have the Queen? Really?” He asked me again.

Now, I was already annoyed at losing the hand, so this next part probably came out of frustration with a touch of gamesmanship. I didn’t know if the guy was daft or if he was intentionally messing with me, so I turned to him and said, “If I had the Queen, I would have shown it and taken the pot.” It was fairly matter-of-fact, if a bit curt. He asked again, “You didn’t have the Queen?” probably as much to himself as to anyone else. This time, I took the bait. “Yeah, guy. Now that I think of it, I did have the Queen. Give me my chips back!” Some players chuckled. I meant it to be funny and to shut the guy up. Instead, he made some comments about how he’s going to hold onto my chips. “That’s okay,” I responded, “I’ll just get them back the old fashioned way…with interest.” Things were getting confrontational. He then guaranteed (in his words) that I would not get my chips back. He was right, for the most part. I ended up busting him for his last $30 or so, but before I got most of his chips, he gifted them to someone else…Roose.

Roose and I did not hide being friends, but we also played some pots against each other. Whatever the case, Roose’s run was met with jokes about how he was paying for dinner. My side of the table were yucking it up and we were all generally having a good time by the time Roose and I had to go. He had lost most of his profit in the KT v. QJd hand ending up around $100; I had lost about $124 due to probably poor play.

By then, it was 6pm, and Roose and I had an hour and fifteen minutes before the Trop tournament. We racked up, cashed out, registered for the tourney, and made our way to the Seaside Cafe, the diner-like establishment in the Trop.

Dinner was on the Trop, thanks to the $40 food comp. Roose went with a burger and I with the cheesesteak. He approved. Mine was decent, but I would order something else next time. Call me old fashioned, but I like my cheesesteak with onions and if possible, peppers. This guy was meat and cheese, a bit too bland for my tastes.

But free. Oh so free.

Satiated, we returned to the tournament area of the poker room and took our seats. Once again, the tournament started short-handed with lots of dead stacks blinded off. I once again failed to get much in the way of traction, only obtaining one decent hand, QQ, which picked up the blinds.

It was overall a frustrating tourney, mostly because I was so card dead. I eventually went out when I pushed with 99 into QQ and AK. I was already shortstacked from folding and a couple of small attempts to take down pots. The bustout hand wasn’t anything exceptional. It was fairly routine. But it was disappointing playing two tournaments and never quite getting a feel for either.

I met up with Roose, who was still in the tournament, and lightly discussed whether I needed a mental break or wanted to hop back into 1/2 NLHE. Ultimately, the siren song of poker was too strong, and I ended up looking for a cash game. I saw that there was no wait for 1/2 NLHE, so I walked the room, returning to my last table where there was a seat one spot away from where I sat a couple of hours before. It was probably around 8:30-9pm.

While I was away, the table changed considerably, with only two familiar faces. The first was the big-stacked guy from when I first got to the table. He had sunk from $900+ to around $550. It was clear he was exhausted and degenning it up. We chatted lightly before I sat (he in the 3s, and I was in the 8s) and he had supposedly skipped out on dinner with his gal and friends to gambool it up.

To his left were three aggressive players, the last of which was at the table near the tail-end of my last session. The guy was a bald, black dude, with dark glasses. He kinda reminded me of DMX, so we’ll just go with that for now. DMX’s friend was sitting to the right of the Former BigStack, and his crew would stop by from time to time. DMX looked like he meant business, and he played like it too. To his immediate left was an Asian player who was also aggressive and a good player, and to his left was another black dude who also seemed to be on his game and playing aggressively.

I tried my best not to complain much about my ridiculous cards. I was still card dead, and it was starting to wear on me. The table was giving tons of action, but I folded my 73 or 92 or 84, especially since there was lots of preflop action.

Things stayed this way for much of the evening. I began to catch myself grumbling about bad cards, which is something I hate to do. Roose had busted from the tournament and was wandering around, and after a while, he began “pushing” me for some table game action. I had promised Roose before the trip that this would not be a pure poker-only affair. We’d get in some drinking and have some fun away from the 1/2 and tournament action, so after my frustration reached its peak, I decided to play one last orbit and meet up with my bud.

Fold, fold fold. That was my last orbit. I was down about $35 and I had one hand left to play…Q2h, UTG. Well, it was the last hand, I thought, so I might as well play it for a limp. The rest of the table liked the play and copied it. We probably had 7-8 players ready to see the flop when DMX, in the SB, raised to $17. It folded to me and I…called.

Its a bad call. No two ways about it. It was an awfukkit call, the type you make on your last hand because, “Aw fuck it, I’m down $35 and this is my last hand. Let’s just toss another $15 in and see what happens.” Everyone else called as well; at most, we lost one player.

The flop was QQ6. Hmm. It checked to me and I bet out $50. The pot was big and I wanted to either take it down or force a better Queen to re-raise and signal to me that I was out-kicked. It folded around to DMX, who took off his glasses and attempted to stare me down. I took off my glasses, faced him, and said, “Is this better for you?”

“Nah, man. I’m not playing into you like that.” I guess he didn’t want to get into the talking game, but that’s exactly where I wanted this hand to go. He looked again, and this time, I saw him eying my stack. I moved some stuff out of the way and announced to him, “I have $202 left.” DMX had about $400 and change in front of him, and he took two $1 chips and placed then on two $100 stacks, as though he were eying what my all-in would cost him.

I offered some help: “Just so you know, man, this is my last hand. Really. I am leaving next hand.”

He hrumphed (there is no better way for it) and then announced, “call”.

The turn was a blank. He checked again, and I pushed all-in. He took his time again. One of the things I discussed with Roose later that evening was my table talk. Frankly, that deserves its own post. But at the time, I wanted to talk him into calling, since all indications were that he was going to fold. This, I believe, is one of the times when talking is most effective. If it looks like an almost certainty that your opponent will fold, then chatting has little risk, assuming you want a call. He had taken so long that I knew my Queen was good.

I grabbed a rack. “Just to be clear, man, I don’t like to hit and run, but I’ve gotta go. See?,” I held up the rack. “I don’t like doubling up and leaving, but I swear this was my last hand.” I was mostly trying to goad him into thinking that my super confidence was an act.

In the end, it didn’t work. He folded face-up, KK. I didn’t expect that, since preflop, I put his $15 bet as an attempt to take the blinds from a bunch of limpers. Keep in mind, he and the two other guys next to him had raised preflop every hand for the last two orbits or so, so I didn’t have much respect for his preflop raises anymore.

“What you got?,” he asked me. “Did you bluff me. Man, you didn’t have shit, huh?” I racked up my chips and realized that I was in fact leaving. I showed the Queen Two, knowing that it didn’t matter. I was walking. “Damn! How you call with Queen Two preflop?” I answered, “It was my last hand, man.” And then I walked away, up about $100.

I met up with Roose and walked the casino floor checking out the table games. I usually never play table games unless I am with wifey Kim (the sole exception being Pai Gow), but Roose wanted to play some roulette, and I agreed with the knowledge that I would budget $100 only.

The Trop was noticeably more packed than I’d seen it in the past. Two weeks prior, I noticed the same thing. The roulette wheels were all $15 minimum or higher and packed to the gills, so Roose and I decided to take a walk to the Hilton.

It’s been a busy day already and while there may not be too much more for this evening, this seems like a fine place to break before Part 3. I can assure you this, though: There will be blood. And by blood, I mean poker.

Until next time, make mine poker!

I woke up Saturday morning freezing cold. I had wrapped a flat sheet around me and used a light blanket as best I could, but even with my hoodie on, the cold morning air was creeping through the glass back door and I couldn’t fall back asleep under these conditions. Fortunately, Roose was already awake and taking his dog for a walk.

The night before, I took a train from NYC to Roose’s home on Long Island. The plan was to sleep there and then head to AC in the early morning. It meant an hour long train ride to LI and an extra hour of car time from LI through NYC before we hit AC, but for poker and Roose, it was worth it.

It was probably 8am or so, not late by weekday standards but ‘crack of dawnin’, now I’m yawnin’ for a weekend trip. Roose and I first stopped at a LI bagel shop (the best bagels in the world are made on LI) and then started our trip.

It’s good to have a friend like Roose. Our discussions are like short-hand. Most people probably wouldn’t know what we are talking about or what we are on, but we know each other so well that it is all very smooth and natural. In the entire car ride, I did not look at the clock once. It could have taken 3 hours or 1 hour. It all felt the same. The key was, we were on our way to where the air is sweet.

We had some tentative goals for this trip, first and foremost being a stop at White House Sub Shop on the way back to NY. Oh, and poker too. The specific plan was to get in at least one tournament, but also to spend some time relaxing instead of just poker poker poker.

We arrived at the Trop and made our way to the lobby where I secured a room in the North Tower. We were actually given our choice of towers. The nicest one is probably the Havana Tower because its the newest. However, it was located more in the shopping area of the casino, and we wanted to be closer to the action. I haven’t stayed in the South Tower for years, so I skipped that altogether. It’s location is not particularly bad, but I have to stick with what I know. The West Tower is in an area of the hotel a bit off the beaten track, between the shopping and casino floor. But the ole North Tower is a good, safe choice. It’s closest to the casino floor and I’d stayed there enough to know that the rooms were decent. Hell, at this point, whenever I enter a North Tower room, I think to myself, “Have I stayed in this one before?” I think I’ve seen a good 90% of the room layouts.

Roose and I dumped off our stuff and I took a quick shower, something we usually skip in AC. After freshening up, it was near 1pm, so we returned to the car and took the drive to the other side of the Boardwalk to hang with my old pal Showboat.

On the way, Roose and I were feeling the hunger for something other than poker, so we kept an eye on the side of the road for a decent place to eat. I’ve said it hear before, but the Showboat woefully lacks in the food department. They need a food court or a burger place or something that you can get in and out of quickly. The one option they have, Chelsea Market, is terrible.

We ended up at a random pizza place where I had a cheese steak slice (pizza with beef, peppers and onions) and Roose had his old standby Italian hero. Once satisfied, we hit the road again and arrived at the Showboat, where we paid $5 for parking. (Incidentally, parking at Trop was $5 too, but I had a free parking comp as part of the insane deal Trop had bestowed upon me).

We made the usual walk through the casino and arrived at the poker room after a pitstop at the Total Rewards desk to get Roose a new card. Once registered, we walked the casino floor again and settled on a Pai Gow table with $25 minimum stakes. We played for 15 minutes, during which Roose lost $50 and I broke even.

Back to the poker room. I grabbed my seat, Roose grabbed his, and we got down to business.

I used to love the Showboat tourneys, but this one didn’t impress me as much as yesteryears. First off, they start you with 15k in chips, but blinds started at 50/100. It’s the classic scheme: raise the stacks to make it look like more value and increase the blinds to take away the value everyone perceives to exist. The result was that by the 200/400/25 stage and certainly by the 300/600/50 stage, there isn’t much game to play. Consider this: at the 200/400 stage, a 3x BB bet preflop is 1200, almost 10% of your starting stack!

We started off with only 6 people at the table. Regardless, I couldn’t get any traction going and stayed near-even for most of the tournament, dipping a bit but then coming back up. Our table filled up, but my luck did not, and I remained card dead for a long while.

I was blinded down to 11k or so when I lost about 6k+ trying to push someone off of a hand. I failed miserably but didn’t have to show when my opponent pushed all-in on the river. I was trying to play the players and this guy was playing way too many pots, but, in the end, it was all my mistake. I could’ve probably sat back for a longer while.

I was down to under 4k and dropping quickly due to antes. I saw a situation in late position with one limper and pushed without looking at my cards. Everyone folded and I checked after the fact, J7o.

Feeling emboldened, I pushed the very next hand after an early limper. This time, I actually had a hand, 88. The early limper called my all-in with AK and I lost the race, out of the tournament relatively early. Roose, meanwhile, had been hanging out in the casino since the second level, where his set lost to an inside straight draw on the river. Lemon!

I looked for Roose but stumbled upon Jamie from the Wall Street Game first. We chatted briefly until I saw Roose in the distance looking around for me. I made my goodbyes and rejoined my homie.

Our next stop was back to the car. After all, we were staying at the Trop, so might as well give the Trop our love and attention. It was barely 4pm, so we decided to play in the 7:15 $100+22 tournament at the Trop. But before that, I wanted to kill some times playing cash games.

When we return, we’ll discuss some of the cash action, the tournament, some more cash action, and maybe even a little poker soul searching with the help of Davey Roose.

Until next time, make mine poker!

I didn’t play many hands. Eventually, I found myself still on my 10k or so stack with blinds

I have come to notice an interesting pattern when it comes to poker and work. When I am more stressed at work, I tend to have better results at poker. One possibility is that I am already on edge, so in a way, I’m hypersensitive to the things around me and perhaps, I am playing into that. All the more likely, it is mere coincidence, especially after last night’s display.

Wifey Kim is in Miami this weekend with two of her girlfriends. When she decided to head down there, I did what any rational man in my position would do: book a free room at the Trop. I’m heading down tomorrow morning with Roose. But in the meanwhile, with the prospect of an empty home last night, I decided to return to the Tuna Club for their Thursday $130 buy-in tournament.

I arrived at about 6:45 for the 7pm tournament. I was actually in the ‘hood a bit sooner, so I first got dinner at Boston Market and then walked around Whole Foods to kill some time. Even then, I was early for the game, but at least I wasn’t the first person. There was already a good table full of players ready to go and by the time 7 rolled around, we were at almost two full tables.

While waiting for the game to start, I was messing around on my iTouch. I looked up when all of a sudden I saw a familiar face from the old Wall Street Game, decent Steve, one of my personal favorites from those Wall Street days. I call him decent Steve because the first time I wrote about him, I mentioned he was a decent player, not realizing that he read here from time to time. That’s the pitfalls of writing openly about my poker experiences. At least I had a “decent” opinion of him. It would’ve been harder to sell him on “shitty poker player Steve”.

Steve and I caught up, since we hadn’t seen each other in what must be at least a year. He moved up to the Bronx and has had his first child. I got the New Super Mario Bros for Wii. I’d call it a wash. When we finally sat, I took the 3 seat and he had the 6. Between us on my left was Rafael, a friendly guy who has good results at the table. I don’t rightly recall who was between Raf and Steve. To my right, though, was a white guy with long, straight hair and a ball cap. He looked like an extra from Dazed & Confused. Across the table in the 8s or 9s was Amit, an Israeli guy who I’ve played with a handful of times at Tuna Club. He’s a fun guy, but he’s more serious about poker than he seems to let on, much in the same way as I ham it up even though I’m out for blood. Amit is also willing to gamble it up, which was something from which I hoped to take advantage.  The 10s was Charles Manson, complete with jet black Jesus hair and beard. He tangeled with Amit early and showed down 62s in one hand, catching Amit’s river bluff with Manson’s baby pair on a board complete with an Ace and at least two face cards. This hand, moreso than any, helped lock in my reads on Amit and Manson. Both were overplaying their cards and could be induced to make bad plays if given enough rope.

Every tournament is different, and so I rarely start any tournament with a particular strategy. That is not to say that I do not form a strategy as the game progresses, and it became clear fairly early to me that I could let my opponents do most of the betting for me at this over-aggressive table.

In one of my earliest hand, with blinds of 25/50, I raised preflop to 200 from UTG with AKo. I had been folding most of the game thus far, but we were still within the first 15 minutes. The 200 bet was more than I’d usually bet in this instance, but its good to change things up now and again.

It folded to the button, Manson, who ended up raising to 600 total. It folded back to me and I called.

We saw a flop TT4. I considered the best course of action and decided to check. Manson was in position and could potentially have a pocket pair. I was not completely sold on this fact, though, and if he played two high cards (hell, I wouldn’t put it past him to play KJ for a re-raise preflop in position) I was obviously still ahead with my nut-no-pair.

I checked and Manson bet 700. We had started with stacks around 4500, so I decided to call the 700 and see where things went from there. I was happy with my two overcards, as I did not put him on a Ten, 44, AA, or KK and therefore, I had outs.

I wanted more information about this hand, so I called and then we saw the blank turn before I checked again. Manson checked as well after taking his time. It was a clear indication that he had two high cards and/or that he was scared that I was ahead of him.

The river was another 4, making a board of TT44x, with the x a low card (I think 6). I was first to act. I figured that we may be chopping the pot (TT44A, if he had any Ax hand). I doubted I was behind, but if I were, it was likely to a low pair like 55. Even then, I doubted it, because I would’ve expected more action on the turn. I decided to bet out 1200. Manson took his time until Amit opened his big mouth and called time. Perhaps it worked to my advantage because Manson folded at the 5 seconds to spare.  I offered to show him one but he just grumbled before Amit opened his big mouth that we should just play poker. Manson grumbled again and someone else, I think Rafael, reached to flip over one card, but I stopped him and mucked.

I don’t get people. If someone is offering free information, take it. If nothing else, that gimmick let’s me know how foolish a player is. If he doesn’t want to see a card, it means he is wary of me; so wary that he thinks I can completely mind-fuck him out of his game merely by showing him one out of two cards. Really? That’s just pathetic. Now, I can understand not wanting to play my reindeer games, but free information? Free? Idiots. Naturally, though, if my opponent doesn’t want it, nobody gets it. Hence, I stopped Rafael and mucked.

During a break later in the tourney, I discussed the hand with Steve and I’m not sure if my river play makes sense. At the time it did, but after our discussion, I changed my mind. With some further thought, I’m back to liking my river bet.

With my Ace-high, if I am ahead, no one with worse cards (K-high) is calling, so I get no more money from lesser hands. HOWEVER, I also disguise the strength of my hand. When I offered for Manson to see one card and he declined, one guy surmised that I had quads, which makes some sense. So perhaps deception was worth it here, since the game was early and I was building an image.

If he is ahead by a little (55), he is probably going to call, in which case, I lose 1200 more than I could have by check-folding. However, I do not put myself in a position where I check to him, he bets, and I am completely uncertain as to whether he is making a play or has it. The pot was over 2k at the river, so the 1200 bet may’ve saved me money rather than checking and having him bet 1500 or more. Of course, this is still a bad outcome, but maybe not as bad as it could’ve been.

If I am way behind, my opponent is raising and I auto-fold, so once again, my losses are capped on the river at 1200.

I am still not 100% sure whether my river bet was good. I suppose if I just checked, I probably would’ve ended up losing the pot, so that’s not good either. Any suggestions?

Whatever the case, that gave me some room to breathe, which is good, because I needed as much room as I could get. I was fairly card dead, but I was happy to fold away until I got AQo on the SB. Preflop, there was a raise from Steve to probably 300-400 with blinds of 50/100. It folded to me and I flat called. During the break, Steve and I discussed the hand and he was surprised I did not raise preflop, but I am usually cautious with AQ, especially out of position. Plus, his 300-400 bet was not enough alone to tempt me to take the pot away preflop, so I may as well see a flop (and 3 out of 5 community cards) before I decide which way to take this hand.

For what its worth, I also had it in my head that I was possibly facing AK. Steve had not played many hands, if any, that I can recall, and I have respect for his game, so I didn’t want to go broke with AQ against AK. Also, frankly, assuming he had something, unless he was so bold as to raise preflop with AJ or less, he was 100% of the time ahead of me preflop. No need to push the action then.

Rafeal, in the BB, called as well, and we saw the flop, AKx. Shit. The preflop bet must’ve been 350 at least, because when it checked to Steve, he bet 1,000, and Steve does not bet more than the pot (that I can recall). I decided to call, since I had TPTK, but I was somewhat wary of the possibility that Steve had top two pair and I was drawing dead. I was not 100% sure of that. Steve could’ve had a big underpair like QQ or even TT and decided to bet his position when it checked to him. Hell, that’s why I checked the flop. I wanted to see what he would do and I also wanted to potentially induce a bet from him while I appeared weak. The size of his bet would hopefully tell me where I was at. The 1,000, though, didn’t tell me enough, so I decided to call with my fairly-strong hand and see what developed on the turn. Raf folded.

The turn was a card that created a flush draw, but otherwise didn’t matter. I checked again, and Steve tossed out 3,000. That’s when I knew the hand was done. I just could not see Steve exposing so much of his chips on a bluff, and if he wasn’t bluffing, then he was ahead. AK kept dancing through my head, so much so that I eventually folded and flipped my cards face-up. Steve offered, “If I knew you could fold a hand like that, things would’ve gone very differently.”  Later during the break, I asked him about the hand. He had shown one King after I showed my AQ fold and he admitted that his other card was another King for middle set. I was drawing dead, although to a slightly different hand than I first surmised. So, I guess that’s worth something.

I took down a monster pot against Amit a short while later. I was once again card dead, having folded happily for a while. Blinds were up to 200/400 and I was probably sitting on about a 7k stack. Preflop, I limped with JTo in EP/MP, mostly because I hoped to see a flop for cheap. However, when the action got to Amit on the button, he raised to 1200 total. A big Samoan looking dude on Amit’s immediate left had called the BB, but after I called the 1200 (because it was Amit and I know he will overplay cards) the Samoan folded, leaving us heads up.

Admittedly, the call with JTo was loose, but every once in a while, I feel it necessary to actually play a hand, and I had been largely inactive for a long while. Amit was the ideal target since he will likely pay me off if I hit, and I certainly didn’t assume that the was sitting on a premium hand, since his preflop raising range is a bit wider than advisable.

The flop came down KQ4. I considered betting, since I had the OESD and could probably take down the pot uncontested if he raised preflop with any pocket-pair lower than QQ. However, I decided to check because I didn’t want to get into a raising war with AK, AQ or the like; I’d rather check-call to see the turn. I checked. He checked. Even better.

On a side note, Amit later asked me if I would’ve called a bet on the flop. I told him I’d have to be in that situation to really answer it. That’s a sincere response. I doubt I would call any bet on the flop, but I would call a lot bets from Amit. Mannerism and whatnot would play into it as well, so I really couldn’t answer his question (not that I would, necessarily, if I could).

The turn was a beautiful 9, giving me my straight. I checked pretty quickly as though the 9 didn’t change a thing. Amit bet 1200 and I took my time, doing some Hollywooding about the tough decision. I eventually grabbed 3000 and announced a sheepish raise before tossing the chips defiantly onto the table. Amit replied, “All-in” and I just as quickly added, “Call.” Amit announced, “Two pair. Kings and Queens.” I answered, “Straight.”

River was a blank. I took out Amit, a dangerous player, and earned myself a stack around 15,000.

We got down to one table and seating changed slightly. Steve had moved to my immediate left and had amassed a large stack that put him securely in first place. My 15k stack had dwindled slightly, but I was still within the top three or four spots.

Steve had made his money on a crazy pot. I don’t recall all of the action, but Guy (a very solid player) raised, another player over-pushed, Steve called and then Guy hemmed and hawed before calling for most of his stack. Steve had a big pocket pair against the pusher’s hand (don’t remember the details. but I think two high cards) and Guy’s incredulous 9Td. It’s one thing to try a steal with that play, but the call was a poor move. The pot was perhaps laying odds, but all of the action dictated that he was likely super dominated. Hence, “odds” or not, I would have folded in Guy’s spot. Steve, obviously, won the hand.

With this background, I got into a hairy hand that involved the now-short-stacked Guy. I was UTG and limped with AQo. In mid position, Rafael raised. It folded to Guy in the BB who pushed all-in over the raise. He had less than 10 BB, so I expected a push, given his stack and situation. I took my time before I decided to re-raise all-in. I was mildly concerned with Rafael’s hand, but he is an action player, so I did not think it was a given that he had a hand that could call my monster all-in. I had him barely covered at 15k or so, we were both in the upper-middle of the pack as far as stack sizes, and I figured without a premium hand, he would fold and I could effectively isolate the weak Guy.

I was wrong, naturally. Well, I was right in my analysis, perhaps, but wrong in that Raf did have a major hand, AA to be exact. Guy had 66. I had AQ.

I stood up, realizing that I was about to essentially go busto (of close enough that I may as well be busto). I tried to keep a light mood on, as I joked with Rafael. “I just feel bad about the straight.” And then the straight hit. The table erupted. One guy was amazed: “You called it! You called it , man!” I replied, “I call it every time; I just got lucky this time.” Guy, meanwhile, was apparently upset, although I was concentrating on Rafael, both joking with him and acknowledging my suckout. I heard someone joke on Guy’s side of the table that it was all his fault, so I picked up on that joke. “Yeah. I was trying to isolate Guy, so don’t be mad at me; be mad at him.” The table was mostly joking around, but I turned to Guy and he had a steel-eyed look on his face, and it was directed to me. I think he may’ve said something about it not being his fault and protesting. “What was I supposed to do with 66?” I had to put the breaks on this before it got worse.

“Hold on, Guy. I’m joking. Of course it wasn’t your fault. I got lucky with AQ against AA. How is that your fault? It’s a big good.”

Guy responded, “Yeah, well there are a lot of douschebag players, so if you act like one, its not always clear you are joking.”

He wasn’t talking about me specifically, I don’t think, but just lamenting the lack of decency amongst some in the poker community. Of course, I was displaying that behavior, so I realized instantly that I was guilty as charged. I let my own joke go too far and I was ruffling the feathers of an exiting player. There was no reason for that. I sincerely apologized, “Guy, I meant no harm. I’m sorry if I pissed you off. I thought I’d played with you guys enough to be able to make these jokes. No harm intended.” He kinda nodded and repeated under his breath that there are lots of assholes in poker so its logical that he’d think I was one after that display. But that’s on him, just as it is on me to watch what I do in the future. That’ll be a theme you will see in my upcoming AC trip report, but we’ll save that for another time.

Once I had a monster stack, though, I didn’t look back. I hit another straight with AQ to knock out a shorty. I think I had AA, too, and someone pushed into me. In both cases, they were small pots, but enough for me to at least keep up the appearance of utter domination. Steve, meanwhile, was holding steady or perhaps bleeding and I had eclipsed his stack. In fifth place, I took him out when we were in a SB/BB confrontation. I happened to get AQ or AK and he had AT. I let him bet into me most of the way after we both flopped an Ace and eventually, he hung himself on the slack.

Down to four, someone suggested a save for 4th. The prize payouts were $1220, $750 and $500. I had about 40k in chips, with my competitors at 20k, 15k and maybe 10k. I wouldn’t agree. Why give away cash to 4th place if it looks like a slim chance I would be in 4th. I did, however, make a counter-offer.

“I’m not just going to give money to a 4th place that I probably won’t take, but I will take a final buyout. You give me $900 and you guys can do what you want with the rest.”

I had been thinking of that number for a while. At first, I was going to ask for $1000, but I didn’t think that my opposition would likely agree to that sum and I was not looking for a lengthy negotiation. I simply stated my terms and decided to let them work it out. By suggesting $900 for me, the rest of the players had $1570 to share, more than enough to come to an agreement.

We played for a few more hands before someone mentioned a deal again. I finally pointed out that if I took $900, they could each have over $500 if spread evenly and they could work out a different arrangement if they so chose. I guess the mention of  $500 triggered the deal, because in no time, we were all shaking hands and congratulating each other.

Even with a deal made, we had to play out the tournament. Tuna Club has created a leaderboard, and every tournament awards points to the top 4 finishers. Every buy-in kicks $5 to the leaderboard prize pool and once a player has accumulated a certain amount of points, the top three or so spaces on the leaderboard get a cut of the prizepool.

I didn’t see much value in the leaderboard points, since I do not play often enough at Tuna to stand a good chance of winning the thing. The Tuesday, Thursday and Sunday tourneys all pay out points, but I’m lucky if I play one every two weeks.

Still, poker was to be played, so I announced that I would go all-in until I or everyone else was broke, whichever came first. I took out two guys in fairly short order and then faced Nick heads up. He doubled through me twice so that he was within 2k or so of even, but I won the third all-in and took down official 1st place.

After the tournament, I reconsidered the deal and began to second guess myself. I sometimes feel like the guy who spends all of his time in Monopoly working out swaps and deals, often to his own detriment. It may be because I, in fact, am that guy when I play Monopoly, but I don’t want to be that guy in poker.

My thought at the time of the deal was that 1st place paid $1220 and 2nd took $750 for a combined HU prize pool of $1970. Assuming that I was assured one of the top two spots (even though there are no guarantees), even if we chopped then, I’d only be making $980. I also figured by then that my sizeable lead would hardly be a sure thing. If one guy took out one or both of the others, it’d be damn near even. Plus, blinds were at 1000/2000, so I only had a 25BB stack at most. I was folding a lot because any hand could end up putting me in an ugly position if someone else doubled-up.

On the other hand, part of me felt like I was giving away money.

In the end, I think it was a good deal, but I have to be really careful in the future. I am all for ensuring a profit, but I want to make sure I am making good deals. Overall, I like this one, but I’m still wary of my natural inclination to cut a deal. It’s almost like playing an entirely different game.

The very next day, I headed to Roose’s house where I would sleep before heading to AC on Saturday. But that’s another post.

Until next time, make mine poker!