High On Poker

In a way, HighOnPoker has truly come full circle. This blog started as a hobby, where I could write about poker and analyze my own play, without any expectation of readership. Over time, readership came, but as any loyal poker blog reader can attest, since the Events of 4/15 (hat tip to WCP), the world of poker blogging has dried up. After all, its a lot easier to write about poker when we are playing nightly online, but once the poker is gone, there is only so much navel gazing that a blogger can do.

Alas, here at HighOnPoker, I’ve done my best to roll with the punches, and part of that meant changing my blogging schedule, so I would only write when I had something worthwhile. Fortunately, it now feels that this site went semi-dormant enough so that I can shake off the self-imposed shackles of readership and simply revert back to the core of why I wrote about poker: to chronicle my experiences and hopefully learn a thing or two.

With that windup, I should also admit that before my most recent day trip to Atlantic City, I really faced a crisis of conscience. Part of me felt like I just didn’t feel like going, and that it was more of a chore than a day of fun. I had seen this before in other settings. For instance, the Wall Street Poker game was awesome in its day. Host Jamie ran a tight ship, filled with fun, laid back players, quality supplies, and a great location. But after a while, the game dried up. People eventually get burnt out, even on a good thing. Before I left for AC, I really worried myself that I had lost that spark. I even considered jumping up in stakes to force myself to concentrate. In the end, though, it was that feeling of responsibility and loyalty, to ASG actually, that got me to go.

ASG had emailed me, or maybe I emailed him. Whatever the case, I knew I had Saturday free and I wanted to see if he was available for some underground poker in the city or, barring that, a trip to AC. After some emails, we decided on AC,with a plan to meet at the Port Authority Bus Terminal for the 9am bus. Once the plans were locked it, I was not going to flake. I had done that recently to ASG (and Matty Ebs) for an underground game in the city due to work commitments, and I didn’t want to do it again.

So, admittedly, feeling some duty, I forced myself to get up early and travel to the Port Authority early Saturday morning. I arrived earlier than necessary and ordered myself a breakfast sandwich from a generic deli. I then bought my ticket and waited by the proper gate.

At about 8:40, I saw the bus loading up, so I hopped on line, assuming that I would be set for the 9:10 bus. As it turned out, I read the schedule wrong, and the buses weer 8:30 and 9:00, so the 8:40 bus was actually the 9am bus, which had arrived early. Alas, by the time ASG had joined me, we were about 6 people from the front of the line, and the 9am was full. Thankfully, we had a last minute life suckout, when seven people left the 9am bus. The 7 complained that they could not get seats next to each other. Before they could reconsider their complaint, I had volunteered to take some of the newly opened seats. I ended up next to a smartly dressed hipster, who read Elle Decor the entire way. I can safely assume he was gay. ASG ended up several rows back, so I popped in my ear buds and watched different programs on my iPod during the almost 3-hour drive (due to Jersey Shore traffic).

The bus left us off at Trump Plaza, which worked out well, since I forgot all of my players’ cards. With the Academy Bus service, you get the roundtrip ride plus a casino freeplay of $25 for a total price of $36. Most casinos require you to have a players’ card, but Trump Plaza’s system is a bit different, so I got my $25 freeplay without having to first get a card. I ran through the $25 in a $1 slot, while ASG won $7 with his $25 freeplay at a video slot machine. To be clear, he actually lost $18 of the $25, but since he could withdraw the $7 (after playthrough) he ended up with $7 more than me.

After running through out freeplays, it was time to play some poker. We first headed to Bally’s so that ASG could cash in another freeplay. As it turned out, he didn’t actually have any more freeplays, but we were close enough to the Bally’s poker room that it seemed like a logical option.

Sadly, the Bally’s poker room seemed dead. There was only one 1/3 NLHE game spread, and I was unwilling to play their 1/1, $100-cap buy-in game. ASG wasn’t willing to wait either, so we walked to the next hotel on the strip, Caesars.

I really don’t love Caesars. Their table games are overpriced and their food selection lacks the type of easy takeout places a discerning poker player needs. But it was nearby, and I didn’t think there were many better options, so off we went.

When we arrived, two seats were open on the same table, so ASG and I locked them up and we went to the cage for cash. I tried something I hadn’t done in a while, and bought $400 in chips, two stacks of reds and two $100 chips. I stuck the $100 chips in my wallet for reserve, and hoped that I would not need to top off my stack during play.

Looking back, I think I bought the extra $100 chips because I hate waiting for the dealer to make change between hands. On another level, when one does that, I think it signals to the other players that you are losing (which you obviously are, if you are rebuying). Losing begets losing, largely because your opponents can taste the blood in the water and will go after you harder; meanwhile, the person losing is often susceptible to tilt or other forms of leaks.

I grabbed the 4 seat and ASG took the 7 seat, eventually moving to the 6 seat when it opened up. On my immediate right was an older gentleman, with a slight frame and a gray mustache. He was very friendly, and also very bad at poker. He limped with any Ace and called down hands light. My position was perfect. On my immediate left was an Asian guy, probably in his mid-20s, who was from the Buffalo area. He was friendly as well, and I respected him instantly as a player because of the way he conducted himself, but as the session wore on, it became clear that he had his leaks as well.

I won my first significant pot from the Old Guy on my right. I held A6d and limped into the pot. The flop was KK6, and the Old Guy bet $5. I was the only caller, even though there were a lot of limpers. The turn was a blank and he bet $15. Something seemed fishy so I called. The river was another blank, and he pushed all-in for $14. I didn’t realize how short he was prior to the hand, which was my error. Now that I only had to call $14, I felt priced in and even announced, “Okay, I guess I’ll pay you off.” At showdown, he had A8o, for high-card Ace. I took down the pot with my two pair, Kings and Sixes.

Once I saw the type of player he was, I made some more cash with JK. I was in the SB, and he was in position on the button. The flop was Jack-high, and there were a decent amount of limpers. I bet out $8 into the $10 pot, and only the old guy called. I bet $15 on the turn and $21 on the river, bets designed to keep him in the hand. It worked. He called and at showdown, he showed middle pair. My top pair was good.

It was one of those days when you are faced with the reality that you do not have to be the best player in the world as long as you are better than the players around you.

I lost $100 or so when I was drawing for the nut flush draw with A9s against the Asian. I probably called too much when he re-raised me on the turn, but at least I got away from his all-in river bet.
My next big pot came when I held 66 and raised to $12 preflop. I was out of position and there were lots of limpers, so I hoped to thin the herd. It utterly failed, though, and most players stayed in the pot.

Fortunately, the flop was 623, giving me top set. I bet out (I do not recall the amount) and got action from the Asian and an old white guy in blue polo shirt who had been playing alternatively aggressively and tight. The turn was a 4 and I bet again. This time, the Asian raised allin, but not for much then I already had bet. To my surprise though, Blue Polo pushed all-in on top. After my earlier losses, I had taken out one of my $100 chips and placed it atop my stack of reds. I took my time trying to figure out whether Blue Polo had the straight, but I could not see any hands that made sense there, given the preflop and flop betting. Finally, I decided to call all-in for my last $175+, thinking that he maybe had a vulnerable hand and/or wanted to isolate against one player.

Sadly, Blue had 55, the only hand that made sense (somewhat) and could beat me. I say somewhat, because he called the flop bet, which was sizable, with nothing more than an inside straight draw and middle pair. Regardless, I saw that I was now woefully behind, and I began to think “2, 3, 4. 2, 3, 4,” hoping for the three cards that would help me make a full house. The river was a 3, and suddenly the huge pot was pushed in my direction. But first the dealer had to count out my all-in call. Blue Polo had me well covered.

After counting out my reds and placing my $100 chip in its own single-chip pile, the dealer announced the amount, something like $178. Blue Polo was surprised. “Wait, how much?” The dealer repeated himself and then pointed out my black chip. Blue Polo complained lightly, “That should have been visible. I didn’t see it.” Finally, I chimed in, “It was on top of my chips, and nothing was covering it. What else was I supposed to do. It was clearly visible. I wasn’t going to put it in its own stack. It’s just one chip.” Thankfully, an older gentleman in the 1 seat agreed with me and stated so, “It was out there on top. Plain to see.”

For what its worth, Blue Polo didn’t fight it much and accepted his fate and my explanation. But, it did highlight for me that there may be a benefit to packing your own backup chips. When you need to reload, not only do you avoid the announcement, “HEY I’M LOSING OVER HERE!” You also gain a hidden advantage, since people are not expecting your $100 chip in play. Ka ching!

I should also note that after winning the hand, I sheepishly offered, “I just got lucky.” I didn’t 100% mean it, but I like creating the impression that I am lucky and not good (ironically, if a blogger were to post that he/she thought I was lucky and not good, I would take offense; if a live poker opponent said that, I would nod and agree…pride is a weird thing). In response, Blue Polo made a very astute comment, “I had to get lucky first.” We both agreed, it didn’t matter who got lucky. All that mattered was who got lucky last.*

In my next big hand, I held QQ in the SB, with lots of limpers. I considered raising big to thin the herd, but I wanted some action, so I went with $12. That was too low, as it turned out, because I got a slew of callers to see the 985 flop with two spades.

I am a bit worried about the flush draw, so I bet out $40. Amazingly, ASG of all people raises to $110, and it folds back to me. I tried to think things out, but nothing clear was coming to me. I figured he either got lucky with a set of some sort, or he had the draw. I could even see a draw like JTs, for a flush and straight draw on the 985 flop. I finally reluctantly called after goading him with, “Are you pulling this with a flush draw?” In hindsight, this was a stupid statement to make, because once the flush card river came, I had to fold to his bet. And what did he have? 98, for flopped two pair. Whoops! At least I was giving money to a friend.

At around 3:00, I was fairly hungry, since I had breakfast at 8:30. We finally racked up our chips and decided to grab some grub. I was up $153 on my session, after peaking at around $270+. Most of the lost profit went to ASG, who had a struggle at the table yet left nearly even.

The next question was where to eat. It turns out that Bally’s has a mini-food court with a Sack O’ Subs and a pizza place in it. We went there and I wolfed down a chicken parm hero while ASG leisurely ate his Sack O’ Subs special, which is essentially an Italian hero.
After lunch, we decided to check out the Bally’s poker room again. This time, there were more tables running, and once we added our names to the 1/3 list shortly before a new table was called. I once again loaded up $200 in red and another $200 in backup chips, this time 8 $25 chips, since the cage did not have $100s.

In my first hand, I was dealt J8o in the SB, and saw a J9x flop with five other players. I bet $10 and a tall, thin Punjabi on my left called. I wasn’t sure if he were Indian or Muslim, and I’ll admit that as a bit of added motivation, I thought of him as a dirty terrorist. I know that may seem odd and maybe even a tad racist, but I do find that sometimes I can get extra motivation from such things. I had to win his chips so that it wouldn’t go to Al Qaeda! In reality, he was definitely Indian, and was extremely Americanized, with two white Dudes accompanying him to the game. Even so, he acted like the big shit, like he was going to show everyone who was top dog. I picked up on that fairly early, and it fueled my hate for him as the day wore on.

The turn was a Jack and I check. He bet out $15 and I check-raised to $40 before he almost instantly pushes all-in for $200 more. He had me covered and I took my time. I had trips, but any better kicker had me  beat, and I could not see why he would push with a weak Jack. I finally decided to fold, and he flashed me the Jack. I replied, “Yeah, we all knew about that one. It was the other one I was curious about.” He mucked his cards and then said, “It was a Two.” I’m fairly sure he was lying, but maybe he was telling the truth. In any event, I replied, “In that case, you had me outkicked,” as sort of a snarky, wise-ass retort and a sign that his cards and chatter didn’t really bother me, since I said it in a flippant manner.

My next major hand was AJo. I called a raise to $10 preflop with many other players, and we saw a Jack-high flop. I bet out $40 and ASG called. It then folded to the guy on my right, who raised. I asked to see my neighbor’s stack and then decided to push all-in. My thinking was that he could not have an overpair because he did not raise pre-flop. I also figured that I looked weak after my fold to the Punjabi in the J8 hand. To my surprise, ASG and the guy on my right called, and we saw the turn and river. The river was a beautiful Ace, and when we reached showdown, it was revealed that ASG had the nut flush draw that missed (he hit his Ace, but that wasn’t enough) and the guy on my right had Queens. He was ahead until the river, when I sucked out. Lucky me! And just like that, my $200 stack was up to 450.

I had my vengeance from the Punjab when I held 44 and raise to $10 in EP. I got a shit ton of callers and we saw a 467 flop with two diamonds. I bet out $50, determined to push out the drawing hands, and Punjab raised to $125. One of his two Dude buddies were sitting at the table behind a bunch of chips. He wasn’t a particularly good player, but he was a gambler and had gotten lucky with shit cards before. The Dude folded and the action got back to me. I decided to push all-in, and the Punjab called me without counting my push. He then announced to the table, “He has an overpair,” gesturing to me. Clearly, this guy was SOOOOO good that he saw right through me.

Of course, I did not have an overpair, but rather the lowest possible set. But as my mind is thinking, I came to realize that based on his statement, he probably also has a set, since he can beat an overpair. Since I have the lowest possible set, I must be in trouble, right?

I ask, “So if you think I have an overpair, then you must have a set, right?” He nodded in agreement. I asked which one and he shut up.

I figured I was definitely the loser, especially after the turned 8 and rivered 2 of diamonds. However, when I showed my cards, the Punjab folded. As it turned out, he had top two pair on the flop, or so he claims. For what its worth, I believed him. I also delighted in his prediction. “He has an overpair.” Good job, Kreskin.

I only had one significant hand that I took notes on after that hand. In it, a loose player ended up all-in against me for around $108 preflop. I held QQ and he had AQ. He hit his Ace and I gave back some of my winnings.

When the session was done, I was up $453 at Bally’s alone, and $606 total on the day. At my peak at Bally’s I was probably up near $700 or more, but my hands stopped hitting and I gave some of it back. Alas, it wasn’t a bad take on the day.

We decided to leave the game when the Punjab and his friends left, leaving the table shorthanded. We made our way to some diner-type place, where we ordered grilled cheeses to go. We made our way to the bus depot at Bally’s and made the 8:30pm bus, eventually arriving in the city around 11.

$606. Not bad for a day’s work.

Until next time, make mine live poker!

*This parallels my thinking when it comes to that fateful hand between Chris Moneymaker and Phil Ivey from the 2003 WSOP Main Event, where Ivey got lucky hitting a flop (or was it a turn) before Moneymaker got lucky rivering a better hand. Ivey got as lucky as Moneymaker, but Moneymaker got lucky last.

Several months ago, wifey Kim and I were discussing her birthday weekend. Wifey Kim had decided to avoid the traditional birthday celebrations, so I came up with an alternative plan: Atlantic City.

A week ago, I was in my office with my co-workers at a special lunch held for a co-worker’s birthday when everyone was discussing their upcoming weekend plans. Someone asked me and I explained that I was going away with wifey Kim for her birthday. Where?, they asked next. “Atlantic City,” I replied, and the entire room snickered.

Yes, I was taking wifey Kim, a non-poker player, to a gambling den for her birthday, but it was not like I bought her a bowling ball with the initials HoP. I sincerely wanted to show her a great time, and I realized that the best solution would be to give her a mini-vacation geared specifically to her likes. Surprisingly, AC had it all.

Our plan was to come in Friday night, but by Thursday, it was clear that we would be wiped from a long work week. We settled on canceling Friday and leaving early in the morning Saturday.

Saturday morning, wifey Kim and I woke up around 7am and quickly got ready before heading to the Port Authority Bus Terminal for two $35 roundtrip bus tickets to AC. We arrived shortly before 8:30 and were able to get seats in the half-empty bus without issue.

At approximately 11am, we arrived at Bally’s, one of the two stops for the bus. Neither stop was particularly convenient for us; we were staying at Harrah’s, which is located off the Boardwalk, so we’d need to find our own transportation to our eventual destination.

We disembarked and waited for two $25 freeplay slot coupons, which came with the $35 bus ticket. Once we had those in hand, we walked to the casino to run through the play-through as quickly as possible. We found a bank of 50 cent Wheel of Fortune slots and went to work, eventually cashing out $53.50. In the ten or so trips I’ve made to AC by bus, this was the first time I actually walked away with money from a slots play through. Ka ching!

Wifey Kim and I then made our way to the taxi stand and headed to Harrah’s, where we checked in early with nary an issue. We were placed in the Bayview Tower, which is actually attached to the newest tower, the Waterfront Tower. I had considered upgrading to the Waterfront, but I didn’t know much about it and I got a great rate for the  Bayview. Now, I’ve never been in a Waterfront room, but I can say that if you were to walk on any given Waterfront Tower floor and transition over to the  Bayview Tower, you wouldn’t even realize you changed towers. The connecting area is simply another hallway, so it feels like one tower instead of two. Of course, the Waterfront rooms might be amazing for all I know. The Bayview rooms were great, though, with a huge, well-appointed bathroom, a comfortable couch, and a great view of the indoor pool dome.

Once we had settled in, I started phase 1 of wifey Kim’s birthday weekend. We changed into bathing suits and returned to the first floor before making the short walk to the pool’s entrance.

The Harrah’s pool scene is like no other in Atlantic City (hell, maybe the North East). The pool is enclosed in a 9-story glass dome, and is temperature controlled at 82 degrees. The scene feels like something out of a Vegas pool, with oversized lounge chairs around the pool for “tanning’” (more on that later), a bunch of private cabanas with couches and TVs, multiple hot tubs all around the pool area (at least 5, of varying sizes), fake palm trees for ambiance and a bar for drinks and food, complete with high tables for eating. Cocktail waitresses in bikini tops and small wraps around their bikini bottoms served drinks poolside and in the restaurant area of the bar.

It was probably around noon and we were able to find one available lounge chair. We dumped off our stuff and made our way to the bar area, securing a table so that we could get some food. I went with a chicken caesar wrap and a beer; wifey Kim went with a salad. Both were very good.

Surprisingly, the bar staff was filled with 6s and 7s. It was so obvious, I even pointed it out to wifey Kim. “Wouldn’t you think that Saturday afternoon would be prime time to be a poolside cocktail waitress?” “Yeah, I guess.” “Then why aren’t they bringing in all the attractive waitresses! This is like bringing in the weekday girls to work the weekend night shifts at a strip club!” Amazingly, wifey Kim didn’t flinch at the analogy and actually agreed.

After eating, we returned to the lounge chair and annexed another one nearby that had just become available.

For 82 degrees it wasn’t quite “hot” in the pool area. I would’ve guessed it was closer to 75 or so, but without a breeze, it was pleasant enough.  Wifey Kim and I both read poolside until she and eventually I fell asleep. We were only asleep for about 30 mins, but we woke up refreshed.

As for the tanning, well, no luck there. While the room is designed to feel like you are outside in a tropical environment, the windows are actually designed to block UV rays. So, while my goal was to allow wifey Kim to tan in the winter (she loves the sun), instead we got the equivalent of a O’Doul’s tan! All the flavor of the son, with none of the fun effects!

After some time in a hot tub, we laid out some more. Our plan was to go to one of wifey Kim’s favorite restaurants, Ruth’s Chris Steak House, for dinner, but we hadn’t gotten reservations and wifey Kim was curious about other options. The fine dining options at Harrah’s didn’t appeal to her, so we checked out the nearest hotel, the Borgata. After seeing what they had to offer, we settled on reservations at Bobby Flay’s Steakhouse. We were aiming for 7:30 reservations, but could only get 6pm or 8:30. We went with the latter.

After lounging some more, we returned to the room to shower and get ready for the evening.

Our first stop were the table games, which were incredibly busy. We eventually made our way to a bar in the middle of the casino floor. Wifey Kim was thirsty, so we got her a seltzer (no booze just yet) and sat at one of the high tables that had a touchscreen free videogame system in it. Why the hell would a casino offer a free videogame in the middle of its floor? Likely the drink minimum for the table, which I suppose is easy profit too. Incidentally, we never hit the drink minimum, nor were we asked.

We got up from there and moved to an electronic roulette setup, where twenty or so touchscreens are set up around a pit with a single roulette wheel. I usually dislike these machines, but the place was packed and the birthday girl wanted to play roulette. The game was a lot better than I expected, though, once I got a handle on the betting system. The benefits are obvious. There are no fat people taking up the entire rail around the betting area. There are no crazy Asian squeezing in between players (always leading with their elbows, somehow) to drop $100 on Red. The stakes can be lower (you can bet increments of 50 cents, if you like) and the minimum total bets was lower as well ($5 instead of the $10 or higher at the normal tables). Wifey Kim ended up even. I ended up busto on a $100 buy-in. All was well.

From there, I had wifey Kim join me for some Pai Gow Poker, where I lost another $100. By then, it was getting late, so we headed to the cab stand and made our way to the Borgata.

We were actually more than 30 mins early for our reservation, so we decided to walk the casino floor and scope out the scene at the Borgata. Its a beautiful hotel with a great selection of restaurants, but the higher minimum stakes and air of eliticism is a real turn off for me.

At about 8:10, we returned to Bobby Flay’s Steakhouse and announced our appearance to the woman checking the reservations. We then grabbed a couple of drinks (alcoholic) and killed some time in the bar area.

We were seated about 5 minutes after our reservation time, which was impressive since the place was packed. While those around us were ordering appetizers and the like, we decided to cut right to the chase. We both went with NY strip steaks. I went with the “Philadelphia” style steak, served with Provolone sauce and sauteed onions. Wifey Kim got some spicy steak thing that was originally a T-bone (she downgraded to NY strip because she wanted to avoid a cut that had a lot of fat – - not fat calories, but actual fat on the steak).  For sides, we went with two potato dishes, a smashed baked potato with goat cheese and a sweet potato gratin. The smashed baked potato was delicious, reminding me of a side dish I stole and adapted from Astin’s blog. The sweet potato gratin tasted more like a sweet maple dessert than anything else; it surely wasn’t cheesy. The steaks were the highlight of the meal. Both had a perfect char and tender inside, and the sauces, served underneath the steaks instead of atop, were delicious and not overbearing on the meaty steak flavor.

For dessert, wifey Kim got the key lime pie, which was too liquidy to me. She liked it though. Me? I skipped dessert. I was too full from steak.

After dinner, we returned to our hotel. Later that evening, wifey Kim had already fallen asleep, so it was time for my time.

I carefully left the bed, making sure not to wake my Sleeping Beauty. I had already laid out my poker clothes earlier in the evening. It was no surprise that I was sneaking out for poker. It was well known to wifey Kim. I wait for her to sleep mostly out of respect and love; also, it was her birthday.

Geared up, I left the room at about 11pm. Granted, it was early for sleep time, but we were up at the crack of dawn and had a long day behind us.

I made my way to the poker room and considered a 2/5 game, since I wouldn’t have much time and I was looking for an excuse to up the stakes. Alas, the 1/2 tables had no wait and 2/5 did, so I took a 1/2 spot and bought in for $200.

I didn’t record hands, but I do recall that I lost about $80 before reloading another $100, after I tried to bluff a hand away from a guy two seats to my left. The guy was in his 50s, and looked like a grayer Capt. Lou Albano.  In fact, the inset picture is a more recent pic of Albano that is fairly close to the the guy on my left.

Albano was wearing a Green Bay Packers jersey and was rocking a couple of face piercing, which was unexpected, given his age. He had a gravelly voice and liked to talk. Meanwhile, a cadre of other scummy-looking dudes kept stopping by to pilfer money or check on the status of their ride back to the rock they crawled out of.

The whole aire about this guy was odd. It was as though he were the Daddy to a clan of white trash degenerate hillbillies.

I was in the 7seat, and Albano was in the 9th. He was calling with a wide range preflop and took down my pot and about $80 when I thought I could push him off of a hand, when a couple of scare cards came. He ended up calling me down with top pair, low kicker, teaching me a lesson in the process about picking your spots.

Meanwhile, in the 2seat or 3seat, a round-faced dude was putting on a show. He was in his late 40s, most likely, and as I sat at the table, I learned more about him from the people around me and his own actions. The dude had tight graying hair, clearly balding atop to the point that it was just a smattering of bristles atop. He wore a blue pullover hoody that was not in the least stylish. He had a chipmunk’s mouth that was often slightly agape, allowing his two jacked up front teeth to get full display of the action. He looked perpetually confused and had to ask about the action repeatedly. He also took his dear sweet time with every decision. He was, to state it plainly, druink.

Supposedly, when he came to the table, he said that he never played before. Albano wasn’t buying it or the drunk routine, and since I was closer in proximity to Albano, I agreed with him verbally, and disagreed internally. I think Albano was just upset that he wasn’t able to get anything going against the Drunkard. It was actually quite annoying, because Albano at some points would even talk shit loud enough so the entire table could hear. I wanted him to shut the hell up, and even suggested once that we didn’t want to scare away the “fake” drunk because even with his “act” he still was a soft spot at the table. At one point, one of the dealers was fed up with the Drunkard’s slow play and antics, to the point that me and one other guy at the table had to remind the dealer to not scare away the players.

After being down around $100, I eventually made a comeback, leaving 2 and a half hours later with $156 in profit. It was a small sum, but good enough, so I decided to lock in the profit and call it a night early. I was initially willing to play to 3am, but the hours started to drag on me and I had grown exhausted.

With money in hand, I took the trip to the elevator, and rode up in a crowded car. I was the second-to-last floor, such that right before I got out, it was just me and five white dudes, who were clearly drunk. The entire ride up, I was joking with them, and when we were alone, one guy in particular, bald, tall and fat, turned around and made a joke to me about punching me in the face. It was out of nowhere and I was clearly outnumbered, so I did what I usually do in these situations: I talked my way out of it. In this case, I acted like it was all a joke. “Yeah, ha ha. I’d like to see that!” The elevator door opened, and I pushed the guy aside to get out. I still thought that we were all joking, but as I stepped out, I heard him say, “Douschebag.” WHAT? This was clearly out of nowhere, and lord knows I don’t have the ability to let anything slide, so I responded, “You’re calling me a douschebag? Fuck off,” as I walked from the elevator. I had rounded the corner when I heard the ding of the elevator door opening and heard him call out, “You are going to call me a douschebag?!” I guess he thought I was calling him a douschebag back, but it just as well could’ve been that I misheard in the first place and when I questioned him, he thought I was calling him the dousche. I had already rounded the corner, but I heard him call out, “Come back here and say that to my face.” My room was right around the corner, so I entered the key quietly as I said, “Alright asshole, I’m coming back,” as I quietly entered my room and closed the door. I knew once I was in the room they wouldn’t know where I had entered, so I was really just fucking with him in the end. But the whole interaction fucked with my head, and it was a good while before the adrenaline had passed and I was ready to sleep.

The next morning, wifey Kim and I spent my $29 in comps and an additional $20 on the breakfast buffet, so that we could avoid any lines. The buffet at Harrah’s was fantastically appointed, and we both grabbed some items for later in the day.

We then made our way by cab to Caesar’s, where we left our  bags with the bellhop and walked to the outdoor outlet mall. Several hours and hundreds of dollars later, we were back at Caesars, grabbing our stuff and heading over to the bus depot for the 1:30 bus.

When we arrived at Caesar’s bus depot, we were confronted by an insanely long line. It was 1:06 pm, so we were 24 minutes early, but there were enough people on line to fill up the 1:30 and likely the 2:30 busses, meaning we’d have to wait for 3:30. We hopped on line while we discussed possibilities. Meanwhile, another couple ahead of us discussed the possibility of taking a cab back to NYC. We hit it off and found out that collectively, it’d cost $250 for a cab to NYC. We agreed on an even split, and were out by 1:45pm in a cab. Several hours later, we were home.

The trip was an amazing success.  Wifey Kim got to enjoy some summer-like weather, a good steak, and some shopping. I got to enjoy some poker and seeing my one and only happy.

I have a renewed appreciation for AC. Here was a trip where gambling was secondary, and yet we had an amazing time. After a brief overnight trip, we both felt refreshed and relaxed.

Until next time, make mine poker!

I arrived at the Tuna Club a bit later than usual. I had all my usual poker gear except for a card cap and sunglasses (bad planning), but I was delayed due to work. The Big Bossman gave me a file just before quitting time and asked me to analyze it in advance of a settlement conference today. “Work on this tonight,” was his instructions, so instead of my plan to head to Tuna Club earlier than necessary (as I usually do, only to wonder why I arrive so early), I got to work and grinded out several more hours.

Once done, though, I was on my way for 5/10 LO8, which runs every Wednesday at the Tuna Club. I walked in and the table was already in full swing. I got a seat, ate my quick dinner (steak and jalapeno quesadilla from the Chexican restaurant next door) and then got to work.

It was clear that I was not the only person heading to AC for the weekend. W mentioned that she had extra space in her hotel room if anyone wanted to split the cost. Boat, a big, 50-year old black guy who could pass for 25, was also chatting about accomodations. One guy, though, seemed to have more information than most.

I had never previously met the guy wit the answers, but at a poker table, its usually easy to strike up a friendly conversation. I piped in, “So, you played this tournament before?” AnswerMan said yes, so I followed up with some more questions.

How many runners did it get last time? 225 or so.

How did you do? 10th place.

How much did you win? A little over $1,000.

What was the buy-in? The same. $350+50.

What day of the week was the game last time? Friday and Saturday.

When did the game end on Friday? 1:15 AM, once down to 27 players.

When did action start on Saturday? 1 or 2 PM. (This time, action restarts at 2)

How late did you play on day 2? Until 6 PM, at which point, there were still 9 players left.

I mulled all of this over. I had planned on this trip for weeks, if not months. This was going to be my coming out party for 2010, out to the world of higher-stakes (but not high-stakes) tournament poker. And here I was feeling iffy about it.

Nothing seemed to make sense. I had already co-opted Roose and Hole to join me for the trip. Unfortunately, they both planned to only come down for Friday night and leave Saturday, which left me in AC alone and without a ride home. W mentioned that the busses from AC to NY are actually more expensive than the busses from NY to AC roundtrip, which makes some sense, since the AC casinos will subsidize you coming to them, but won’t subsidize you leaving. That meant that potentially, if I were to win the event or even final table, I would complete play around 6-8 PM Sunday night, then have to find a bus, take almost 3 hours door to door, and then appear at Court the next morning for work.

That is not how I play poker. One of the things i learned in my online poker junkie days was to never start a tournament you couldn’t finish. There was nothing worse than starting a tournament only to stare at the clock several hours later, kinda hoping to lose just so you could sleep. It would be much worse in AC, since I had so much traveling before I could rest. But if that was the only problem, perhaps I could make it work.

It wasn’t. That payout really stuck in my craw. I could make $1,000 profit at Showboat’s soft-as-butter tournaments with a $120 buy-in. I’d done it before, on several occasions, so why spend days in a tournament for a similar payout for 10th place. Let’s be real here. I play with the intention of winning, but I also am aware that sometimes, you can do everything right and still lose. Final tabling was a noble goal, but if I needed to be in the top few spots to see some real money, maybe I was putting too much emphasis on this one particular tournament.

These things danced in my head: timing and money. Timing and money. Timing and money. And then it became clear. I was putting too much pressure on this one tournament. Much like how wifey Kim and I decided that in two years we’d buy a house, only to learn that two years later, our feelings had changed, so to had my initial feelings changed. I was no longer looking forward to this tournament, but was almost anxious about it. I didn’t want to travel to AC with my buddies only to ditch out on them the entire time and play one single tournament whose potential profit, aside from the top spots, could be reached at a cash game or a lower buy-in tournament. I did not want to place myself in a situation where I was essentially losing (either monetarily or by wasting time and making my life more difficult) unless I took down a top tier spot. It just wasn’t adding up.

Thankfully, I have good degenerate friends, and when I informed them of my thoughts, they still wanted to go to AC. So, I’m still going. We have a cheapo room at the Hilton (another hitch, since its as far from the Borg as possible while still being a casino/hotel), so we’ll probably spend our time in the Trop poker room or even make it out to the Showboat late night tournament.

We’ll head back to NY on Saturday, likely in the early afternoon, but my poker doesn’t end there. Perhaps the straw that broke the camels back, Dawn decided to throw her monthly homegame that night. It’s a $30 rebuy, and I’ve had some success in the past, so I’m excited to play. I also haven’t attended one of these in months, so its always fun catching up with people.

Sorry if you are disappointed in me, but I do this for you, my dear readers. Ah, who am I kidding. I have to be true to myself, and that means not standing on ceremony.

Until next time, make mine poker!

After running my online bankroll from~172 to over 300, I felt like I was moving in the right direction for the Summer Bankroll Challenge – Southern Hemisphere edition. I had been playing the $16 PLO H/L SNGs almost exclusively, alternating between the 18-person version and the 9-person version. I would generally start with one or two games and once I made headway, would start up a third and then a fourth. I tended to notice a pattern emerging. I started off with a couple of losers (usually, they were shaping up to be winners, but a late bad hand would set me on a different course), consider giving up, and then win whatever games I had left or had just started up.

As far as patterns go, it wasn’t a bad one to have. Literally, it felt like I was making my nut last minute, but at least I was making it.

Sometime this weekend, that scenario fell apart. My worst online poker days seem to be the days when I have the most free time. If I’m home with hours to kill, I’m playing online poker. And unfortunately, I am not playing particularly well. The result. I went form $300+ to a little over $120. Not good.

While that sucked, I kept slugging away. Thanks to a couple of wins last night, I’m back in the black, hovering around $190. I’ve begun to add more PLO Hi Double or Nothing games into my rotation. These things are easier, insofar as the real strategy is to play very tight; they are harder, insofar as I hate playing tight and the payouts are low, so if you win one and lose one, you are a net loser (thanks to rake). In comparison, if you win one (1st or 2nd) and lose one of the PLO H/L SNGs, you are in the black and potentially very profitable. Regardless, I think bringing in the other game (Double or Nothing) will hopefully keep me from playing on auto-pilot.

I have an opportunity to play in a live game tonight at the Comedy Club, thanks to an invite from Alceste. I had considered playing, but I’m on the fence now. The game starts at 8pm, which leaves me an awkward amount of time between work and play. I can stay at the office late, but I’m not particularly in the mood for that, and regardless, I left my poker cash at home. If I head home, though, I’ll be home for maybe 30-45 minutes before I have to head out for poker. To make matters more complicated, I don’t like playing too late on weeknights (11pm cutoff, usually) and there is a facility fee that may cut into profitability. Woe is me! I’m glad I have access to another game, since that was my goal in the new year (play more poker), but now I need to get out of this lackadaisical funk and actually play.

On a somewhat related note, I am incredibly excited for the LOE tournament at the Borgara Winter Open. It’ll be my highest buy-in event ever at $400, just slightly higher than the WSOP Circuit Events I played in AC in the past. The game, though, is the key. Maybe I can even get the Tuna Club to host an OE tournament for warmup.

The plan right now is to head to AC with Davey Roose. Roose is riding on my dime, since I pretty much just want the company. Naturally, Roose is also recruiting amongst his poker-playing pack, since Roose always rolls deep.

The room rates in AC are actually pretty reasonable, so it isn’t so bad. The tournament starts at noon on Saturday, so the plan is to take the bus out there Friday night to allow me a decent amount of rest. I’m not talking a full 8 hours here. I’ll be lucky if I can squeeze in a solid 6 hours. But its all for the poker.

Damn! Do I need to go to the Borg on Friday night to register? Anyone have any advice/tips? I’ve gone to register the day-of before and it can be a madhouse.

If all goes well, I’ll be playing the tournament for all of Saturday, stumbling back to our hotel that night and then picking up again at 2pm on Sunday.

The tournament is first and foremost in my mind. If I can actually have a good showing, it will put my year on the right path. If not, I’m likely starting in the hole. But poker is a looooooooooooong term game.

Until next time, make mine poker!

On Christmas morning, while the gentiles were waking up to gifts, I was waking up with a hangover. Wifey Kim and I were up fairly early, so we decided to order in room service for breakfast. For room service, the food was pretty good and fairly fast. The price, $30 total, wasn’t that bad either.

After breakfast, wifey Kim still had a lot of showering and such to do, so I decided to hit up the casino floor for some Pai Gow. I spent a while at a $25 minimum table filled with mostly Asians. Wifey Kim finally found me when I was down about $100, a common theme of the trip. We decided to leave the game and move on to another.

That’s how our day went. We roamed around, gambling here or there. At around noon or later, we met up with wifey Kim’s grandpa and his girlfriend. they had bussed in for the day, so we had lunch with them at RiRa, an Irish pub/restaurant in the Trop. I had the cheddar burger with sweet potato fries. The meal was delicious and fairly cheap, thanks to a 20% off coupon from my Mom.

After lunch, we did some more gambling. Eventually, we had enough and went upstairs to relax. I headed over to Roose’s room, where Roose, Robbie Hole and Marc were hanging out. I taught Marc Israeli Poker, a game I’ll probably explain here some time soon. We futzed around before heading downstairs and saying goodbye to wifey Kim’s grandpa.

After that, wifey Kim and I hit up the craps table, where we lost some more. We were gambling with my poker money. It’s like a little gift each year, since wifey Kim let’s me play poker a shit ton. So, even though we were losing, we were having fun. My parents stopped by, fresh from Avatar, which they saw at the Trop’s IMAX theater. My mother proclaimed it amazing, which was enough to convince me that I need to see it soon.

Tired of gambling, the crew met up at the Rumba Bar, a newer bar near Trop’s table games floor. We each had a drink or two and enjoyed a cigar. When we were done, we headed to Cuba Libre, another Trop restaurant, fro dinner. We had previously arranged for a table near a TV, since there was an NFL game on, but when we got there, we learned they didn’t have the channel. Lemon!

We still sat near the bar, and ordered a ton of food. Mostly, we just got a bunch of samplers. While we waited for the food, we played 31, another great time-killer of a game that I may describe here shortly. I won for a $4 profit. BOOM!

Dinner was great. Once done, though, the guys were off to poker. I decided to hang with Kim, but when she started to fade, we went upstairs, where I eventually left her for some more poker.

I waited for a good 20 minutes for a seat to open up at 1/2 and when it finally did, I took my seat. The table looked like it was full of rounders. I sat down in the SB and had to sit out a hand. I followed the play as I heard an announcement that a new table was opened. I only heard about 8 names read off, so I returned to the cage and asked if I could be moved, seeing as I hadn’t played a single hand. The cage okayed my move and I joined my most fun table of the trip.

The benefits of a new table versus an established one is pretty obvious. At a new table, everyone starts with at the same level. There are big stacks beyond the max buy-in. There is no history or established reads. Hell, the players are even still on the same plane as it relates to getting into the flow of a game.

The negatives are a lot less, but still worth noting. The biggest negative, in fact the only one I can think of, is the tendency for players to be tighter when their session first starts. Consider most homegames that run multiple tournaments in a night. I can almost guarantee that in the first tournament of the night, the players are tighter and it takes a longer time for the first bust-out. By the last tourney, though, the players are already loosened up from the higher blinds (in later stages of the earlier tournaments) and emboldened by either their previous wins or losses.

So, my new table was tight. I mean, $6 raise preflop and everyone folds tight. But it was fun. It was basically a bunch of Jews and a couple of Asians, including a hot Asian chick sitting to my immediate left. My side of the table also included a young Asian kid on my right and his buddy, a Caucasian kid, on his right. The four of us (including the hot Asian chick) conspiratorially chatted and conspired when some obviously clueless players on the other side of the table made some truly absurd moves. We were all licking our chops.

I actually played fairly well, but the entire session can be boiled down to two hands. The first gave up most of my $80 or so profit. Even though my table crew were licking our chops, the Asian chick busted (after buyin in short twice) and the Asian kid couldn’t get much traction and left down about $100. The nitty table had a lot of small stacks, $100 or less, but I was looking to have fun and it was a relaxed table, so I didn’t mind.

In the first of my two hands, the Asian kid was already gone, replaced by a young, fit kid in his early 20s. The Kid was friendly, and sat down while saying, “Let’s give this a whirl.” I was under the impression at first that he was just trying out poker, based on his statement and small buy-in, but he seemed to understand the game fairly well. He had pushed all-in on one occasion and showed an unlikely 2 pair (rivered his second pair) for the win, so I had some thoughts on how he played.

The hand was a doozy. I held 48s and I was either in the blinds, or more likely I made a loose $2 call, since there wasn’t much preflop raising and I could outplay most of the table post-flop. I think there may’ve been a raise from one of the particularly weaker players, so when there were several callers, I joined the fray.

The flop was 6s7sX. It checked around. There was a small bet from the original raiser and I called, along with two other players.

When I hit my flush on the turn, I bet out a decent amount. My only caller was on my right, the Kid. The river was a blank. I was mildly concerned that my 8-high flush was no good, but when the open pushed for over $100, I had to think it out. I remembered that hte last time he pushed, he had rivered two-pair. I considered that he may’ve had two pair again, but I didn’t want to rush my decision. I turned to him and asked, “Do you have the flush?” “I do. It’s a high one too.” He waited a second and said, “The Queen.”

Now, I’ve said this here before, but not in a long while: Often times, people tell the truth when you ask them their hand. This is especially so if they do not hesitate. It is the usual reaction for human beings to tell the truth, and in poker, oftentimes they think, “I’ll tell him the truth, and he won’t believe me.” It’s like reverse psychology.

So, when he admitted to a Queen-high flush, I had to seriously consider that he was telling the truth. It would explain his play 100%. Calls the flop on a draw. Calls the turn when he was slowplaying. Pushes the river because now he knows he’s good. It may’ve even been an overbet for value. I considered that he had a major hand the last time he pushed. He then offered, “I’ll show you no matter what.”

That was the straw that broke the camel’s back. Everything told me he had me beat. He seemed confident, we were friendly at the table before the hand, he said what hand he allegedly had, it made sense with the play, it fit his past play, and after all of that he offered to show no matter what. I figured he was being friendly. So, I folded. And he showed his bluff. Maybe he had top pair or something, but not a flush. Oh, and he did have the Queen flush card, but not two of the suit.

So, I made a mistake. I misread the situation and maybe talked myself into folding. Lemon! To make it worse, he then said, “I figured, why not, it’s my last hand.” He then packed up and left. FUCKER! I still laughed it off.

Before we get to my last hand, I figured I’d take a moment to discuss one of the more odd exchanges. I was playing a hand with a guy who looked like Pat, the androgynous character from 1980s or 90s SNL, except he was clearly a dude. He played like he thought he knew what he was doing, but it was all very ABC.

So, we are in a hand together and he is staring me down. So, I turn to him and stare him down, eye to eye. We held our pose for at least 30 seconds, which is a long time for a silent stare down. He then mucked and I laughed, “I think we just shared a moment there!” The table loved it and we went off on jokes about our “moment” for another 15 minutes. My favorite line was, “Was it just me, or was Endless Love playing in the background during our hand?”

I love those moments. All at once, all the tension is gone from the table and we are all just friends playing a game.

My final hand was in my last orbit. I held AQd and raised preflop to $12, getting a couple of callers. By now, the table had loosened up somewhat, but it still wasn’t an action table.

The flop came down A22 and it checked around. There were so many players, I didn’t want to mess around just yet. Anyone with a 2 was betting out, given the table, and I was out of position.

The turn was a King. LEMON! If anyone else had an Ace, my kicker would no longer play on the A22Kx board. But I bet out anyway and got one caller.

The river was a harmless 8 (thanks for the editing help, Woffles). My one sole competitor had about $50 in front of him. I figured we were lock for a chop, so I decided to push all-in. I figured I could pretend that I was slowplaying the deuce and maybe puck up the entire pot instead of half. It was a play with no downside in my head.

Now, if he had $300 behind, things would’ve been different. But he didn’t. He had $52, to be exact. So when he called, I was bummed to see his A8. If not for that rivered 8, it would’ve been a chop. Go fucking figure. He had no right to be in that pot with my prefop raise, but I wanted him there, so I wasn’t going to complain.

I was about even before that hand, but after it, I was down $97. It was late and I had enough. It was a fun session, but not entirely profitable. But sometimes, that’s just how poker is.

The boys all went upstairs for a late night hang out, before returning to our rooms for rest. The next morning, we all met up with the large group, as we said our farewells. Before leaving the city, though, we stopped by White House Sub Shop for some of their famous subs. Good stuff!

That’s it for this years X-mas in AC. Thanks for reading.

Until next time, make mine poker!

Having lost the tournament on the near bubble (14th place with 9 spots officially paying), I took a walk around the sports book and considered my options. Poker. It had to be poker. I made some calls and found out that different people were scattered throughout the city. So, I went with what was easy: The Caesar’s 1/3 NLHE game. After all, I was right there.

I was seated at a game near the rail of the raised portion of the room. I took the only available seat, the 1 seat, and looked across the table at the 4 seat, an Asian guy, maybe in his mid-20s, with his Caucasian new bride sitting behind him. How did I know that they were newly wed? She was still wearing her veil and they both wore “Just Married” sweat suits. It was ridiculously cheesy and more than mildly trashy, but apparently it worked for them, since he was up several hundred dollars at least, based on his stack.

To his immediate left was Dan Michalski of Pokerati fame. Dan is an interesting guy. Pokerati is probably one of the premiere poker blogs out there and with good cause. But its clear that Dan is a humble guy and easy to get along with, which I suppose should not be a surprise, but is. At first, Dan and I (intentionally or not) acted like strangers, barely acknowledging each other. I don’t mind this at a poker table. If people knew that we knew each other, it would simply be more information from them. But eventually, it became clear that we knew each other, mostly because we kept getting into pots together where we would show no mercy and then joke about it immediately after.

The happy couple got up and I took his lucky seat, mostly glad to leave the shitty seat I was in. I was now immediately on Dan’s right, which probably was not an ideal position, but the 1 seat was cold-decking me, so I was happy for a change of scenery.

A new player sat to my immediate right. He was a clean-cut guy, Caucasian in his late 20s to mid 30s. He was from the North East, like me, and he had a pleasant demeanor, so we hit it off quick. I essentially made my buddy at the table. That’s a more important thing than some people realize. As you get to know your “buddy”, you can pick up more from their game; but more importantly, with familiarity breeds passivity, and that is something you can often exploit.

While chatting with my newfound friend, I overheard something in the distance. “Did you bet on the fight?” My ears perked up. I remembered hearing about a Manny Pacquiao fight that was recently announced, but I wasn’t sure what the overheard voices were discussing. I asked the table, “Does anyone know of any upcoming fights?” Someone mentioned the UFC, and I immediately knew that I had to speak with my height-challenged compadre.

I took a walk from the game. I was probably up about $50-100 by that time, just playing as solid poker as possible.

I found my midget friend, Iggy, who incidentally has a little website called MMAJunkie.com. “So, I heard there is a UFC fight tonight. Any picks on who you think is going to win? Just curious. I won’t hold you to anything.” He rifled through some names, Penn, Mir and Florian. They were all favorites, and Iggy thought they’d win their matches with relative ease. I thanked him and walked off, or more accurately ran to the sportsbook. “Three pick parlay on the UFC fights tongiht: Penn, Mir and Florian.” I got my ticket, $40 to win $116, and returned to the poker table.

The only major hand that I can recall was actually a misplayed but profitable one. I held 33 preflop and called the $3 blinds. Dan, immediately on my left, raised. I don’t have the exact raise amount, but it was probably $12 or $15. There were several callers and when it got back to me, I called as well.

We saw a beautiful 663 flop with two spades. I flopped a nearly unbeatable boat. An EP player bet $20, which was uncharacteristic for the player. I was happy to just call, hoping that someone would turn their nut flush and pay me off. Dan then raised to $60. A player in MP/LP called. He seemed like a fairly loose player, but definitely knowledgeable. He only had about $80+ though in front of him. It folded back to me (the original $20 bettor folded) and I re-raised all-in. I had at least $400 in front of me at the time. Dan folded his QQ (if he is to be believed; given the action, I believe him) and the player with $80+ called.

The turn was a 3; the river was a blank. I showed my Quad 3s and took down the pot. I also got a $100 bonus for my Quads.

In hindsight, I should have flat-called Dan’s raise to $60 or perhaps re-raised to $120, but not all-in. So, it was a misplayed hand overall, but a profitable one nonetheless.

I played for several more orbits before taking a walk to check on the final table of the blogger tournament. As an aside, by that time, everyone knew that Dan and I knew each other at the poker table. We were chatting about the blogger tournament and random bloggers would stop by to start a conversation.

I went back to the sportsbook and decided to check the fight times. According to the sheets I saw, the last fight was to start at 8pm, but it was already past 8 and all the book knew was that Florian had won his fight. I was officially 1 for 1 in my 3-fight parlay.

I was fairly starving at this point and I had reached my poker saturation. Excuse this, as I’ve said this before, but poker really feels like a “need.” As I had once heard, a “want” is something that cannot be satisfied, like money. You always want more money. A “need” is something that can be satisfied for a time, like hunger. You can eat, but only to a point, after which you must stop eating until you are eventually hungry again and the process repeats. Poker felt like food moreso than money. I had enough, and I think I was officially stuffed on poker.

I cashed out after playing another orbit and decided to send out some text messages. Peaker was at MGM playing poker, so I told him I’d meet him after stopping at the IP. I also texted Kat, who was supposed to be at the IP, but I don’t think we got back in touch. I may have texted Schaubs as well, but I don’t recall.

I walked back to the IP and decided to use some of my well-earned comp dollars at their burger joint. I ordered a philly cheesesteak, which I had had shortly after arriving at the IP on Friday. It was actually pretty decent for what it was. I returned to my room and sat down on the bed for a moment. I was just so exhausted. I considered my options and decided to relax before heading to the MGM. I had to be up around 8am the next morning for my flight home.

After a while, I realized that I was not getting out of bed. I was busy refreshing my ipod Touch to get updates on the UFC fight. Frank Mir had won as well. 2 for 2, with only the BJ Penn fight left. I texted Peaker, thanked him for a good trip and apologized for being such a puss. About 3 minutes later, I got a text. I thought it’d be Peaker giving me shit or, more likely, saying goodbye. It wasn’t. It was Schaubs.

I called Schaubs and he mentioned that he was coming to the IP to hang with Pauly for some late night in depth discussions of the horticulture situation in Southern California in Pauly’s hotel room. I like horticulture as much as the next guy, so I agreed to meet up. But first, I had to take care of some business. Some news had just come in. Penn had won. 3 for 3 on my parlay picks, thanks to my diminutive friend. “I’m heading to the Caesars sportsbook. Call me when you get here.”

I walked over solo, happy to collect my moneys. I also took some time to admire all of the hot chicks in the Pussy Cat Dolls section of Caesars. Each dealer was a hot chick wearing a skimpy outfit. Behind them were two chicks dancing in go go cages wearing lingerie. Amazingly, the entire group of girls (dealers and dancers) had made a costume change in the brief time between leaving Caesars and returning. That takes commitment.

I collected my money and was outside the casino when I got a text from Schaubs. He also won a sports bet at Caesars, so I decided to wait for him there, sitting outside in the brisk air. He arrived a short while later and I got another pass of the Pussy Cat Dolls gambling area. “Las Vegas is filled with hot girls whose only marketable skill is that they have nice tits. It’s a magical place.” Schaubs didn’t argue. I continued, “Just think of all those neglectful parents.”

We returned to the IP and hung at the Geisha Bar with a large crew. The One Man Party, AlCantHang, was there, just off of his 2nd place loss to Astin in the Blogger Tourney. I was shocked for three reasons: (1) AlCantHang is a partier, so I expected more party and less poker winnings. (2) Astin was a super shortstack with me when were were down to 18 or less players. God damn that man! I was just glad to hear that a friend won. (3) Even with 2nd place money, Al was pissed. I was shocked. I expected him to be celebrating, but he really seemed irked that he didn’t win. I think I bought him a shot to ease his pain. From the look in his eyes, though, he didn’t need my drink to deaden the senses.

Eventually, Pauly, Schaubs and I headed upstairs. Over our horticulture appreciation, I had the exact same conversation with Pauly as I had the night before. I mean, it was new to me, since I didn’t remember much of the last night, but I’m pretty sure Pauly thought he was watching a rerun.

I was still exhausted and I considered calling it a night, but Schaubs had yet to ever play Pai Gow. We hit the casino floor, both of us well shitfaced now, and stumbled our way to a Pai Gow table with two empty seats side by side. A third seat opened up just as CK arrived, so she joined us. It was around 12am.

Schaubs did something I had never before done: make a plan. He suggested a stop-loss and also a hard end time. Both seemed to make sense. We bought in for $200 apiece, but agreed only to play with $100 as our stoploss. (Quick casino tip: If you only plan to play for a certain sum and you have self control, always buy in for more. The casino notices how much you buy in for and considers that when they work out your comp dollars. The More You Know… du-dee du dee!). We also agreed to walk at 12:30, which was essentially 30 minutes.

An odd thing happened on the way to 12:30. CK kept chopping. Schaubs got like 5 Pai Gows to start (i.e., no pair hands, which is pretty bad). And I was on a tear. I have a simple strategy:

1. No Fortune Bonus.

2. Start with an amount, usually the table minimum.

3. If I win, add an extra $5. If I push, don’t change the bet size. If I lose, go back to the initial bet. If you keep winning, keep adding those $5.

12:30 came around and Schaubs was down maybe $50, CK was near even, and I was up $60 or so. That’s when Schaubs, the Commissioner of our Pai Gow rules, added an amendment. “Ok. At 12:30, we can both play for two losses. Not back to back. Two losses total. If I lose a hand, win 3 and then lose 1, I’m out.” Ok, I thought. It caps losses and we were having fun, drinking more heavily then ever, because in Pai Gow, a push is a win, but only if booze is involved.

It wasn’t until about 1:10 that Schaubs had finally lost two hands. He had made back most of his money, but now that he was done, as per our rules, that was it for him. I could keep playing, though, since I still had “one life”. CK had moved on when we added our extension. The dealer was changing decks, which she saw as a bad omen. She was right, too. Her replacement player was losing steadily. Good for CK.

“Hey, I have an idea,” this time it was me with the suggestion. “We can share my 1 life. If either of us lose, we both leave.” Schaubs one-upped me, “And if we win three in a row, we can get a new life!” This was the most complicated problem gambling rationale ever, but it made sorta sense. I even offered, “And I will pay your losses. I wouldn’t even be playing if not for you.” Ironically, that meant my exposure was tiny. After all, Schaubs was only down $20 or so at this point and could only lose one more hand before he had to quit. I was up over $100, so I could afford to make that offer.

Sure enough, we then both went on tears, earning two “free lifes” before we lost three hands between the two of us and decided to stop adding rules. We packed up around 2:30, after intending to stay only until 12:30. I was up over $200 and Schaubs was up a few bucks too. That made it a +$300 Pai Gow run on my trip. So, look for my new blog High On Pai Gow.

I finally decided I needed some sleep, so I made my way to the Geisha Bar to say my goodnights. That’s an impossible task in this group. Just when I thought I was in the clear, I’d get into another conversation with a random blogger. This is not a complaint. Quite the opposite. It was awesome getting to chat with everyone.

A couple of highlights of that last minute Geisha Bar stop: I met BloodyP for the first time. He pulled the old, “Do you know who I am?” Now, I’ve always pictured BloodyP as a skinny tweaker, probably in a tattered, blood and snot stained shirt, with disheveled hair. Instead, he looked like a normal guy. A bit…too normal.

I also got into a conversation with Iggy. He had no idea I was actually going to use all of his picks for a parlay bet, and was pretty happy to see I had made some loot off of his well-seasoned brain. Now, I don’t know if it was the booze or what, but it was actually kinda flattering all the nice things Iggy had to say. It was like a freakin’ mutual admiration society. Ironically, Iggy is one of those characters in the bloggoverse who can come off as a bit intimidating, if for no other reason than his appropriate nickname as the Blogfather, not to mention those tiny midget hands. Tiny hands always unnerve me. But I probably feel more comfortable around him than most. He’s just such a generous guy, and even though he hates the Jews, he doesn’t seem to mind me much, probably because I’m a self-hating Jew.

The last notable conversation (that I can remember) was with Carter. Now, Carter, I have to admit that (a) I’m not sure if we ever met before…I feel like we have, but I’ve met other Carters and other guys who look like you in this group, but I’m terrible with names, faces and memory in general, so please take no offense. And (b) I don’t read your blog regularly, so if you see this, hit me up with a comment or email with your blog site.

The memorable part about my conversation with Carter was simply the fact that he had such nice things to say about the blog. I’ve been on the other side of the coin on this one many times. There are some blogs that you read and you can really get to know the writer to the extent that you feel that on some level, you know them. And you do. People write more honestly than they’d ever talk to a stranger or even some close friends and family members. It gets to the point that sometimes, you just want to introduce yourself to a fellow blogger because meeting them is like meeting someone you already know; and its also like meeting a celebrity in a way. Ironically,  on the very same trip, I had failed to work up the “courage” to speak with PokerGrump during the Blogger Tournament. I wasn’t sure if it was him, and even if it was, I wasn’t sure what to say. Well, Carter just wanted to say hi, and I was more than glad to chat. If I remember correctly, he may be in the NY area soon, so that’s another reason for you to hit me up with an email or comment.

I finally decided I had enough and returned upstairs. I packed up to make my morning easier and hit the sack.

My next morning and flight back were uneventful. I watched football on the JetBlue TVs, but my three team NFL parlay (timed intentionally with my flight) was lost in the second game, so instead, I just enjoyed football for the sake of football (and my pickem league).

This was probably the most fulfilling WPBT trip I have had. It really is one big family reunion, and whereas I used to feel like a newbie and then an outside looking in (neither of which were true, but that’s just how I felt), now I just feel like one of the family. I admit that I could’ve used more time in Vegas and maybe spent some more time with various people, but these trips have got to be played by ear.

Thanks to everyone for a great trip. That includes wifey Kim. There aren’t many women who would encourage their husbands to spend a weekend (their birthday weekend no less) in a city known for debauchery with a bunch of Invisible Internet Friends. She’s the real prize in all of this, even if you all will never ever get to meet her.

Until next time, make mine poker!

The anticipation before a WPBT trip is often a double-edged sword. On one hand, you know, in your heart of hearts, that it will be a great trip. After all, it’s Vegas. Even if I was going out there for a Douchebag Expo, I’d have a great time. But there is also that trepidation. When I had dinner with some college friends last night, I mentioned my Vegas trip.

“Who did you go with?”

“Um, myself, sorta. I was meeting people there.”

“What people?”

“Um, other bloggers.” This is where I wait for the awkward pause. “I mean, um, a bunch of them are local and I’ve hung out with the group before. It’s not like that. We all know each other.”

Once I’m there and for a long while after, I can appreciate this ragtag group that borders on a dysfunctional family. But the night before, all sorts of scenarios can race through one’s head.

All that being true, I’m not one to go to sleep early. I often joke with wifey Kim that sleep is my enemy. I just hate sleeping. It’s so boring. But that didn’t stop me from going to bed around 10pm on Thursday night. After all, I had a flight to Vegas at 7:25 am, and I was way too excited to do anything productive Thursday night, anyway.

Friday morning, I got up at about 4:40 am, or 1:40 am Vegas time. While I was getting dressed in the dark, there was already a slew of bloggers in Vegas, probably shit faced drunk as I still cleaned the gunk from my eyes. Like a good soldier, I just kept my eye on the mission. I got dressed, grabbed my pre-packed bag, and left the apartment, off to the subway. From there, I took the Air Train to the airport, about a 1 hour trip door to door.

The JetBlue terminal at JFK airport is pretty awesome. Once I got through security, I grabbed some grub and found a place to wait for my flight. The flight itself was mostly uneventful. I just remembered that it was long. Very long. I guess something like 6+ hours, but it felt like 10. I tried to sleep a couple of times, but each time, I would nod off for maybe 5 minutes before waking back up. It was useless, so I spent most of my time flipping through the shitty channels on the JetBlue TV (er, maybe shitty programming, since it was so early on a weekday), and watching movies on my iTouch. God bless the iTouch.

Let me take a moment to sing the praises of traveling solo. Life is so much easier when there are no attachments. All I have is me and my backpack. No concerns about anyone else or anything else. It is an amazingly isolating and yet freeing experience.

Once I landed in Vegas, I was back in soldier mode. I headed to my next checkpoint, the taxi stand. I hadn’t brought any bags, aside from my overstuffed backpack, because I didn’t want to wait for the luggage carousel. No joking, I literally jettisoned clothing while packing merely because of space issues. Before I left for Vegas, I had already decided on no fancy meals…I couldn’t fit nice clothing in my backpack.

A quick ride from the airport (which seemed overpriced at $20 with tip, but I was just happy to be there), and I was at my Vegas headquarters, the Imperial Palace.

The IP is a great hotel if you are not looking for any bells and whistles. It has a nice sized gaming floor and is not overly dominated by wall-to-wall slots, like some places. The poker room is small, but the players are usually super fishy, not that I would play any poker at the IP this trip. The hotel is slightly dingy, but the rooms have always been clean and adequate.

Once I was checked in to my totally free room, I started to walk to the back of the hotel to my room in Tower 4, the Lost Tower. I swear, by the time I got there, I had to take two mini-escalators, a flight of stairs, an elevator, and a canoe. I think my room was officially in Henderson, even though the hotel was in Vegas.

But I’ve already skipped over a key fact. By the time I was at the IP, it was probably 11 am or so, Vegas time. As I walked to my room, I scanned the floor, hoping to see some of my fellow bloggers. As I passed the Geisha Bar, which incidentally sounds way nicer than it actually is, I had my first sighting. There, sitting at the bar, drinking various adult beverages, was none other than the One Man Party AlCantHang, Dr. Pauly, his brother Derek and a young lady by the name of Katie. It wasn’t even noon, and I had already done a shot of SoCo with Al and crew. Just typical.

And if it wasn’t obvious, whereas I was up all morning, those guys were up all night.

I got to my room, dumped off my stuff and decided to do what came naturally: poker. I was already dressed in poker gear. I was wearing a new Flash t-shirt (courtesy of wifey Kim for my recent birthday), cargo pants, and my brown Buffalo hoodie. I grabbed my other necessary items and started the trek to the poker room. I figured if I didn’t see anyone down there, I’d eventually bump into someone in the poker room.

Unfortunately, that wasn’t exactly the case. The poker room at IP had two tables going. As I got closer, it became clear, though, that I was looking at one of the saddest tournaments ever. I walked to the floorperson and asked what was spread. The Asian woman looked at me like she didn’t understand the term. I confirmed my suspicions: only a tournament right now? She nodded. I still wasn’t sure that she speekee Ingrish, but it didn’t matter. No poker for me.

Las Vegas is the land of opportunities (for VDs) though, so I took to the streets. I was contemplating my next stop and decided to just start walking. It didn’t take long until I arrived at the next building, Harrah’s. I made my way through to their poker room.

The Harrah’s poker room, unlike the IP room, is actually its own room. It looks to be a decent size, as well, with maybe 30+ tables, but it didn’t look like they needed it for their Friday afternoon crowd. Once again, the room was woefully short on players, and maybe three games were going, with at least one 2/4 limit game in the mix. I put my name on the 1/2 list with two names in front of me and grabbed a Bluff magazine from the rack. I was several articles into the magazine when I gave up. The one 1/2 table I could see seemed like no one was going anywhere anytime soon. In subtle passive aggressive protest, when I left, I didn’t take my name off the list. That’ll show them!

So, with 2 failed attempts at poker, I decided to go to a poker room that I generally hate: Caesars. Incidentally, I didn’t realize what a Harrah’s whore I am; all three hotels, IP, Harrah’s and Caesars, are owned by Harrah’s. I guess they got the last laugh.

Caesars’ room, in and of itself, is actually quite nice. It’s a big, private room, just off of the sports book. It’s actually like two rooms. There is the main room where the cash games are usually played. I won’t even hazard a guess at how many tables they have, but I’d be shocked if it was less than 60 total, including the back room. The back room is huge and is usually reserved for tournaments.

I do have one beef with Caesars, though. I hate that they spread 1/3 NLHE instead of 1/2 NLHE. It’s such a minor difference on paper, but I still find that the 1/3 throws off my bet sizing and general play. They use $2 chips also, which also throws me off.

Alas, at least there were games going, so I signed up on the list and then headed back to the sports book to place a ridiculous 5-game parlay ticket on the NBA (I lost my first pick and declared that I’d rather lose the first game in a parlay then the last). I waited about 15 minutes, and they finally called a new table.

At the new table, it seemed like the usual mix of players. No one particularly concerned me, but there were also no obvious donks. We started somewhat shorthanded, but I was fairly card dead, so I just watched the action around me. I had bought in short, at $200, since I only saw one guy with more. So be it.

Admittedly, the hands I am about to divulge are not my proudest moments. In the first hand, I held K8d in LP and after a bunch of limpers, I limped as well, finally getting re-popped preflop to $15 from one of the blinds. There were five callers by the time it got to me, so I called as well. The flop was T86, with two diamonds, giving me middle pair and the 2nd nut flush draw. The EP preflop raiser pushed all-in. It folded to me and I decided to call. He only had $88 in front and the pot was already $75+ preflop, so I was getting slightly less than 2:1. It wasn’t the best play in hindsight, as I think I could’ve found a better spot at the table, but I guess part of me was in the mood to gamble. The turn was a Jack and the river was a 6; my opponent showed pocket Jacks, so he turned the set and rivered a full house. At least I didn’t have to show my cards. I just mucked, rebought another $100 (bringing my total buy-in to $300) and moved on.

I may’ve bled some more chips on some preflop hands that did not develop. My last hand, though, just plain sucked. I held AK in middle position and raised it to $11. The button seemed like a pretty astute guy, in his 40s, tall, with glasses. It was coincidentally his birthday. It was also mine. When it got to him, he raised to $30. To my surprise, a chick who was in one of the blinds called. She was a pretty loose player, though, so I didn’t think to much of it, aside from the fact that a raise and re-raise must’ve indicated some level of strength. When it got back to me, I just flat called, hoping to see a flop before I got deeper into the hand.

The flop was a seemingly nice K53. It checked to me and I pushed all-in. I think I had a pretty penny left, maybe $130 or so, but with a $90 pot and, if I’m not mistaken, a flush draw on the board, I would be happy to take it down. The Birthday Guy folded and the Chick took a moment before calling. She then showed 55 for a flopped set. To add insult to injury, I turned an Ace. In other words, I was going broke one way or another.

After that hand, I only had $15 left. I think I pushed on the very next hand with King-high. I lost and decided to leave. After all, sometimes you can just tell that you’ve lost the table. Unless I started getting monster hands against second-best hands, I wasn’t going to be winning much with my now tarnished image. I wished the table good luck and headed out.

This seems like a decent enough place to pause. Coming up, we have my first Pai Gow session of the trip, my visit to the Hard Rock cafe, and more pokery action.

Until next time, make mine poker!

Since the WSOP Circuit, I’ve been intentionally and not so intentionally avoiding live poker. My successful Wednesday return to Roose’s homegame saw me winning the first tournament outright, and falling short in the second. While it offered me a modicum of success, more importantly, it wet my appetite.

On Sunday, wifey Kim had plans to join future sister-in-law Jen for some bridal party dress shopping. Seizing the opportunity, I text messaged Chris, a player I met through SIF’s homegame. Chris had gotten me into the Extra Big Bet card room, a more exclusive room to Salami. EBB required a membership card, and if you weren’t a member, you’d have to find a member to get you in. Security was tighter also, but it was well worth it. Whereas Salami has three tables and only a 1/2 crazy deepstacked game, EBB had probably 12-18 tables, a variety of games, and equally bad players.

When I texted Chris, I was hoping for some company. If he couldn’t make it, I would go solo, but if I’m heading down, I figure there is no reason not to invite some company. Frankly, when I’m playing, the first thing I do upon leaving is think of who I can tell about my success or failure. I guess it is the same reason why I blog, and probably one of the themes throughout my life. To me, if no one else knows about it, it may as well not have happened.

As it turned out, Chris was free, but he had an even better idea. Since I had last seen him, Chris had checked out NiceLook club and proclaimed it to be a huge step up from EBB. As long as they had poker, I was game, so we made loose plans to play sometime on Sunday.

Sunday morning, I met up with my brother Keith and headed for bagels before hitting the local movie theatre. We saw 300, and by way of a quick review, it was fucking awesome, but only because of the visuals and action sequences. Frankly, though, that was all that I was there for, so I left happy. Keith and I killed some time in his apartment and then I headed out about 3pm to meet Chris at 3:30. On my way to the subway, I passed by the folding tables where random immigrants sell their wares. One table in particular had an array of small statues, the location where I purchased my two identical buddha statue card caps. I looked at the selection and felt the gold and red buddha in my pocket. Buddha hadn’t been holding up his end of the good luck bargain, so I decided it was time to start fresh. I grabbed a red elephant statue, sitting on its rear with one foot up and the trunk extended into the air. Word to the wise, if you are going to buy an elephant statue, make sure his trunk is up in the air. It’s good luck, and anything else, frankly, is considered bad. With token in hand, I went to the immigrant and paid him his $3. I then hit the 2/3 subway and made my way to the club.

Here I’ll point out that I was wearing a pair of dark jeans, a navy polo shirt, a white hooded sweatshirt, and a thin black jacket. I also had on a random baseball cap. The key was, I didn’t wear my usual poker gear. The decision was semi-conscious. I have been trying to break free of the mental boobytrap that is lucky clothing, but I also wanted to try out a different look at the table. Overall, though, it was a semi-conscious move as I was glad to just leave on my semi-preppy wardrobe rather than suit up.

Part of me, I must admit, still decided to not wear the usual garb BECAUSE of luck. The logic went, I was starting fresh with this session, free of the stench of bad luck that occurred weeks ago at the Lost Weekend in AC. It was the same inspiration that caused me to buy the elephant card cap. But ultimately, it was the little piece of me that said, “Just go play some fucking poker and don’t even think about what you are wearing,” that won out. I’m sure a bunch of you are thinking that too, and you are right. Onto the poker.

I met Chris outside, and we entered the innocuous building lobby together. We exited on the third floor into a room with three black bouncers. They were lounging around and barely gave us a second glance as we walked into the club.

The NiceLook has probably the same amount of tables as EBB, but considerably more room. There were about 6-8 tables running, and we made our way to the front desk to get me a membership card and secure seats and chips. I noticed a familiar face, Joe, a poker dealer who was some form of management at Salami when I first started playing there. In fact, in the first Salami tournament I played, it was Joe, me and a luckbox in the top three spots, and only two spots paid. Joe wanted to make a deal, and I told him I rather play it out, because I’d beat him. As it turned out, I lost, but we had fun joking around at the table. I had heard rumors that he had gone busto and even that he was out of poker altogether, but at least the second one was false. He was now in some sort of management position at NiceLook, and while I recognized him, I never quite spoke to him. After all, I doubt he’d remember me, and I was too busy playing poker.

Chris and I were seated in a 1/2 NL game at Table 1. I took the 1 seat. Most people hate the 1s and the 10s because they are right next to the dealer. I guess this means that they have less room, since the dealer is always reaching around, but in my estimation, those are my two favorite spots. I don’t have to worry about flashing my cards, since one side of me has no player, and I have a good view of everyone from the 2s to the 8s, and often the 9s. The biggest shortcoming to me is that it is hard to see the 10s or 1s (depending on which you are in), and therefore, you can’t get tells as well from a player who you’ll be playing the blinds against a lot. Also, the 1s is often where the dealers tip box is placed, so it can be hazardous to your knees if you are not careful. But alas, for all those shortcomings, I like the security of not worrying about flashing my cards, so I gladly took the 1s as Chris took the 5s.

In between hands, I quietly got up and took notes in my cell phone via the recorder option. Because of this I have details on every significant hand I played. For your enjoyment, here we go:

In my first hand, I was dealt K7c. I was in the CO, and there were a lot of limpers, so I limped as well. The flop was K-high with two hearts, and it checked around to me. I made a near pot-sized bet ($12), since the button was the only one left to act and everyone had seemingly given up on the hand. The button called, and I knew that I needed a miracle card to take the lead or at least be comfortable enough to fire a second bullet. If I checked the turn, the button raises almost automatically and I fold, looking weak. The turn was the 7h, giving me two pair, but completing the heart flush. I decided to keep pushing my hand. Two pair was decent, and as long as he didn’t have the flush, I was likely ahead (or he’d fold to the bet, fearing I had the flush). I bet out $35, and he called. The river was a Ah, making a four-flush heart board. I figured I was done for. If I bet and he reraises me, I have to fold, so rather than waste any more money, I decided to check. He checked too, and showed K8, for top pair, shitty kicker with no heart. I took down the pot with my two pair and had a nice cushion. I also, hopefully, had built a loose image, and I made a mental note to try to take advantage of this later.

A little while later, I am dealt JJ in MP/LP. Someone bets 15 from EP/MP, and gets a few callers before it gets to me. I decide to raise it big, so I’m not facing a bunch of players out of position. I pop it to 50. I get two callers, including one of the early position limpers. This guy looked like a real lunkhead, like a construction worker who was beyond his years. The guy was probably only in his late 40s or early 50s, and looked worn out. Still he was cordial enough. He had a horrible habit of bitching about his bad luck, even when he won a hand. Lesson to my readers: complaining about your bad luck will only cause other players to go after you harder. It will also get them to call you more since you are “so unlucky.” Meanwhile, in your self-pity, you are making worse plays AND getting called more, so you keep losing more money and then blaming it on bad luck. Whatever ths case, this foolish EP limper now calls $50 cold. I don’t get it. The original raiser calls and everyone else folds. The flop is something like T92 with two spades. I decide to bet 150, a very high bet, but not so high considering it was less than pot. I didn’t have anyone on an overpair, and my only concerns was a possible set or a flush draw. The raise would potentially push out the flush draw, induce a re-raise from a set, and cause everyone else to fold. I was happy with folds, since for all I know, one of these monkeys were playing KQ and was about to turn a Queen. Sure enough, my bet worked and they both folded.

On the very next hand, I decided to invest some of my newfound capital. I was still in late position with Jx when I decided to limp (there were more than a few limpers before me and I had position). There was a loose Asian player sitting two seats to my left. Usually, its preferable to have the loose players on your right, but I spent a lot of time watching the player out of the corner of my left eye, and saw ways that I could exploit him given my position. He was definitely a gambler, a calling station, and a maniac, all rolled into one, not to mention a tilter. At one point, he racked up a full rack ($500) and had at least another $150 left over. He was going to leave, but after angrily folding two hands (one of which was preflop!, so what was he angry for??), he unracked his chips and decided to stay. I’m pretty sure the table shared a collective sigh of relief. It’s guys like this one that make a game. So the Crazy Asian, or lets just call him Crazian for now, hasn’t gotten up to leave yet. He has been playing crap cards and sometimes getting lucky (raising preflop from the blinds with 23o to hit two pair on the flop), and I’ve decided that he’s likely a fine mark.

So, preflop, action gets to me preflop and I limp in LP. Crazian decides to raise it up ($10 on top, I think), and since I just won $100+ easily in the JJ pot, I decide I can see the flop after two other players call, including the Construction Worker. The flop was AhKxQh, so I’ve got just an inside straight draw (need the 10) and there is a flush draw out there. In other words, I’m good as dead. It checks to me and I oblige. We see the turn, another blank card. It checks to me again, and I decide I may as well take a stab at the pot, given my position. I bet $35, which is fairly close to the pot. I figured that no one had anything decent. Construction calls and everyone else folds. The river is a blank, and Construction checks to me. I think for a moment but not too long before betting $75. I felt like a tool while doing it, but I had to at least try for the pot at this point. He folded and showed KTh, for the nut flush draw and an inside straight draw. I mucked and gladly took down the hand.

In hindsight, I guess I got into a lot of hands with the Crazian and Construction. A little while later, I was in late position, probably the CO or button, when I’m dealt ATo. There are a bunch of limpers (mind you, this wasn’t a limping game) and I decided to just call. I was conisdering betting, but even in position, I didn’t want to start something that I couldn’t necessarily finish with my marginal hand. The flop was QJx, and when it checked to me, I decided to buy the pot. I bet out $10, expecting to either induce a re-raise (at which point I fold for relatively cheap) or induce a bunch of folds. I get two callers, not too surprisingly the Crazian and Construction. The turn is a blank and I decide to bet out $30 after they both check. Crazian slams his cards down and the chucks them across the table. Construction calls. The river is a blank. Construction checks to me and I decide to check. I’ve likely lost this hand, and if he isn’t folding for $30, I am not taking any chances at a high bet bluff. I tabled my busted inside straight draw, and he tables his cards, 9To, for an open ended straight draw. If that King came, I would’ve felted him, but really, I guess I was just fortunate. He was playing so badly and I was reaping the benefit. I believe position had a lot to do with my success in this hand, and frankly, I was actually trying to focus on position for most of the session. Moving along…

Here is where the fun begins. Literally begins, because this next short hand really is just the on ramp to the insanity freeway that came next.

I’ve been bitching about being card dead for a while. Even though I won 4 Salami tournaments in a row (or was it 5?) I had been doing so with no premium hands. The card deadedness continued in AC. Yesterday at the club, though, I received pocket Jacks on three occassions within 2 1/2 hours. Notably, I never received any other pocket pair other than dueces on one occassion, and I didn’t receive an Ace higher than ATo, so I’m still not sure if one would consider it card dead.

So I’m dealt JJ and I’m in the SB or something because by the time it gets to me, there are something like 8 limpers (including the BB) in the pot. I don’t want to play JJ out of position against all of these players, so I raise to $22 total. It folds around to me and we get ready for the next hand.

On the very next hand I’m dealt JJ again. Great! Chris, in EP, raises to $12. Now, Chris is tight, and if you follow that link from the top about the last time I played with him, he took all of my profits and a lot of my chips the last time we played on one of the very last hands of that session. I hit a great hidden straight, and he hit the full house. Alas, I had already decided to leave at 6pm, and it was 5:45pm, so I wondered if I was going to see a replay of last week.

Chris has raised to $12 and I’m a tad nervous because he is a tight player. I guess no one else noticed because there were three callers before it got to me. Well shit, man, what’s a JJ to do? I decided to thin the herd a bit with a raise to $50. I thought that would get me heads up, but I thought WAY wrong. Everyone and their sister called me, with the exception of Chris. At least I had that going for me. By the time it got around to the SoxLover lookalike (I’ll call him SoxBrother) and the sole female at the table, a pretty attractive pretty aggressive Asian girl named Esther, they had odds to call with any two, I suppose. In total, there must have been at least 5 players to the turn, with at least $260+ in the pot.

The flop started with a K and I mentally gulped hard. The next two cards were a J and a Ten, for a flop of KJT, with two spades. I didn’t have a spade in my hand, but I did have middle set. I figured it would hopefully check around, I’d bet big and take down some easy money.

Two or three early position players checked to SoxBrother, a smart-looking guy who had his poker wits about him. With complete calm, he grabs a stack and bets “$115.” Okay, I think. Now what? Before I can act, Esther makes her move, pushing all-in for $305. SCREEEEECH! That’s the sound of my mental car stopping short.

This was building into the biggest pot I’ve ever been in. There was $260 at least in the pot preflop, now with an extra $420 more. I really didn’t think that over at the time. What I did think was this:

Should I fold this? What could have me beat? AQ and Q9 would give a straight. KK would be a higher set. Someone might be playing the flush draw hard. WTF!! They don’t have KK or they would’ve raised preflop. Okay. They probably don’t have AQ for the same reason. Fine. Q9!? People have been playing that crazy. Fuck, she has Q9. Shit, I have to fold. She is not pushing with crap cards facing a bigger bet than we are used to. Wait! GOD! I can’t fold. I have middle set! I have redraws against the straight. This is the fourth best hand right now. I don’t want to lose to a flush draw! Fuck, she is on Q9s or Axs!? Fuck! AW GOD! FUCK! Okay, okay. okay.

“I’m all in.” I started to push my chips out front, but the dealer stopped me when I knocked a stack over. In total I had $460+ left behind me, and all players folded to SoxBrother. He paused for a moment and thought it out. In the interim, Esther called to me from behind the dealer and asked something about running business. As a rule, I used to abhor things like running business (I’ll explain that later for those who don’t know what it is) or chopping blinds, but I’m starting to see the benefits of both plays. In fact, in the very early goings, I chopped the blinds with SoxBrother in a hand. Chris noticeably perked up at this, probably because he has read about my no-chop stance, but I didn’t want to be seen as an asshole, as I didn’t think it would be advantageous to this table (yet).

So, Esther is asking me about business and I have to politely tell her, “There is still a player in the hand.” She turned to SoxBrother in surprise and we went back to waiting. Somewhere in there, Crazian, now down from $650 to under $100, starts calling for time. Less than 2 minutes has passed and everyone including the dealer tell him to shut up.

Brother finally folds, and Esther stops the dealer from putting out the turn and river. “I’m okay with running business,” I tell her. I’ve read her as having a flush draw and I figure that I could probaly take 2/3 or at least 1/3 of the pot. “No,” she replies, “you have to show each other our cards first and then we decide.” Now, I don’t usually run business, but here’s a quick explanation. Basically, it means that you run the rest of the cards (in this case, the turn and river) multiple times. Usually its done 2-3 times, and you split the pot up accordingly. So, if I win 2 out of 3 of the runs, I get 2/3 of the pot and she gets 1/3. I figured this is good for the flush draw, because she’ll probably miss it at least once, and hopefully twice. This was a huge pot, so I could work with that. But now we have to show our cards first? Whatver, lady. We flip over our cards. I have JJ and she has…red King Ten. The crazy bitch has two pair, with no flush draw, and suddenly I’m doing some quick math. There are two cards that she needs to win, the remaining Kings. I decide in an instant that I’ll give her two chances to hit it (turn and river) and not six (turn and river dealt three times for business).

“Okay, I will do business” she says. “No. No business. Run the cards.” I was short and curt with my statement. She wanted to have it her way, and now she’s going to have to live with it. I’d run business against a flush draw and a straight, but not against a two-outter. I liked them odds. The turn was a spade, the river was a spade, neither were Kings and I won a pot over $1000!

WOOHOO! The adrenaline was corsing through my body. I slowly started to stack my chips. Esther took it in good stride, and 15 minutes later, as I racked up, I had almost 4x my starting stack in front of me. When I stood up, a couple of other players followed suit. The table broke, but Chris decided to stick around, since the action was that good.

Me, I was fucking high on poker. I cashed out, without even a second thought as the cage handed me a bunch of unlucky 50s, and headed out the door.

What a fucking game! That session wiped out the WSOP Circuit loss and the cash game losses from that weekend. I wasn’t down the entire session, and while that last hand was fortuitous, even if it didn’t come, I was till up a nice sum. Poker is one hell of a game. It truly is a fickle bitch, one day treating you like you are her one and only, and the next ignoring your phone calls and shacking up with your archnemesis. But frankly, she can be as fickle as she wants, because no matter what the bitch does to me, I love her and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Oh, and for the hell of it, SoxBrother had KQ, with no spade, so I was in even better shape than I thought.

Until next time, make mine poker!