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High On Poker

Omaha Audible

January 21st, 2010

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!

When we last left our hero, he was clutching onto his bedspread wondering when the bed would stop spinning. As we join him again, he is suddenly awake, 7:30am in the morning, Vegas time, or 10:30am in NY (i.e., reality time).

Jordan woke from his bed surprised to find that somehow in the course of the evening, he had worked his way under the covers. More accurately, he had worked his way underneath the bedspread, which as any good germaphobe knows is ground zero for uncleaned jizz stains and other sordid toxic spills. Jordan rolled out of his bed and dragged himself into the bathroom. Finding no identifiable bruises from the other night, he popped a Motrin and decided that the best cure for his queasy stomach was some food.

He had remembered a text message late at night before he fell asleep. It came from Kat and read, “Where are you? I’m so pissed right now, I’m going to punch somebody!” His feeble attempt at a response last night simply read, “Where are you?”, but he had gotten no response. Either Kat was asleep, in jail, or both. He had hoped for the former.

Jordan lay in bed hoping to get over his rocking hangover. He turned on his iTouch and began to watch a movie until it suddenly froze. SHIT! The iTouch was Jordan’s only real entertainment with him, so the flight home was going to suck without some help. He tried all of the various tricks but nothing worked, so he left the room in search of food with his iTouch and USB plug just in case.

It was too early to call anyone, so Jordan walked the casino floor stopping by the various eateries to see if anything piqued his interest. He came across an elevator in the middle of the casino floor with two signs above it. The first said “Hash House” and featured ideal food; the second said “conference rooms,” which was a little less appealing.

He entered the elevator and hit the button for 4, the number indicated on the sign above the elevator. The elevator moved before making a grinding noise, as though it would suddenly stop and then hit free fall any minute. When the doors opened, Jordan was happy to see he was still alive, but the hallway showed only conference rooms. Breakfast fail. On the way down the elevator, Jordan held tightly to the railing…just in case.

Breakfast ended up being a bagel and cream cheese from a little dinette place near Jordan’s room tower. After breakfast, Jordan walked the casino floor, hoping to find a poker game at the IP. Third try, third fail. The room was desolate. Instead, he found a Pai Gow table, where he grinded another $50 win before moving on to craps, -$97. There went all that hard Pai Gow work.

Eventually, Jordan received a text from CK and F-train, who planned to  head for brunch at the apparently existent Hash House. “Do you or F-Train have a laptop?” “Yes.” “I’ll be right up.”

Jordan arrived at CK and F-Train’s room with his iTouch ready to go. One simple plug into F-Train’s laptop and it was back to normal. God bless that F-Train. Once everyone was ready, the three left the room and headed out to brunch. The destination was the elusive Hash House.

With his two shirrpas, Jordan was finally able to find the only passable restaurant in the IP. He, F-Train and CK met Alceste of IHadOuts fame there, completing the NY foursome. Food was eaten. Jordan opted for the stuffed burger, which was incredibly large. He barely finished half. The rest of the table was filled with equally huge portions.

Satiated, the crew left brunch. Jordan ran to his room to suit up for the private blogger tournament scheduled for 20 minutes at Caesars, across the street. Once dressed, he ran through the IP in the hopes that he would make the tournament on time.

Success! Jordan arrived at the Caesars poker room with time to spare. He paid the $100 and found his seat at table 33, seat 3. He already had a set.

Jordan’s table was a good one, if for nothing else than the company. He won’t try to name everyone, especially since the table dynamics kept changing, but to his immediate right was Lightning36 (probably one of the friendliest and most likable bloggers Jordan has met), along with StB, Poker Peaker, Schaubs, Carmen‘s mom, and a bunch of other blogger/players/ne’er-do-wells.

Jordan had a good time at the tournament, getting KK in his first hand, good for 200 chips in profit. More importantly, he was hamming it up. It was one of the rare occasions that he knew that his antics would be met with appreciation, instead of violence. It’s not easy to call your opponent a donkey, but when the person knows that the source is a showboating self-important blogger like Jordan, the insults go down a lot easier.

Jordan tangled several times with Carmen’s mom specifically. Always the gentleman, he even showed her a courtesy when she was in the SB and called the BB even though Jordan had raised. The dealer announced that she could fold, but had to leave the full BB in the pot. Jordan sent it back. No harm no fowl, especially since he ended up felting Mrs. Carmen’s Mom a couple of orbits later.

By the 300/600 level, though, Jordan had been all over the place. He was up over 10k for a while, but eventually settled in to about 6k when the first break occurred. Meanwhile, Jordan’s Luckbox Team Challenge teammates, Waffles and Dr. Chako, were in better shape with about 7k and 15k or more, respectively. A quick double-up, though, with god-knows-what and Jordan had some breathing room.

“Massages!” Jordan’s ears perked up. This group of bloggers was a ragtag bunch, but it was also a generous bunch, and since landing in Vegas, Jordan had his share of freebies at the hands (and wallets) of his blogger compatriots. Now, it was his turn to give a little back. He approached the masseuse with a $20 ready to go. “See that guy over there?” He pointed to his teammate, Woffles. “Give him the best 10 minutes of his life.” He handed over the $20 and called out to Woffles, “Hey Woffles, I got a gift for you.” Woffles turned around and at the thought of physical contact with an actual female, winced. Jordan whispered to the masseuse, “If he doesn’t want it, you can keep the $20.” After all, Jordan wasn’t going to force the girl on Woffles or take his money back.

As Jordan returned to the table, Woffle’s massage started. Jordan turned to his tablemates and shared, “I’m just helping Woffles get used to paying for a woman to touch him.” Always the thoughtful gift-giver, Jordan went back to poker with a renewed sense of purpose.

Things went quiet for a while. Jordan was card dead, holding only KK that one time on the first hand and JJ one time as well. That was it for pocket pairs, but there may have been one AK as well. No AQ though.

Jordan’s table broke and he was moved to his final table for the day. There were still five or so tables, but Jordan tightened up due to his cards and the escalating blinds, and eventually found himself to be a shortstack at a table of shortstacks. Jordan used his Short Stack Specialist skills as best he could, but card deadedness is card deadedness, and he spent most of his time folding and acting the fool. He even took out his bandanna, tied it around his face like a ye ole bank robber, threw on the hood and went into super-tell-lockdown, more as a goof since there wasn’t much tells to be seen in a shorties all-in.

Jordan got so low at one point that he had about 2 BB. UTG+1, he pushed with T6h. After all, there were enough antes out there and at least with T6h, he hoped to have outs. It amazingly folded to the BB, a bald Asian gentleman who our humble narrator believes to have been one of Astin‘s crew. The bald Asian considered what to do. Jordan was shocked. It was maybe 1 BB more, and with all the antes, the bald Asian was getting amazing odds…until he folded. Incredible! Jordan is just that good.

Jordan was able to double up once with QJ over AK all-in preflop, but eventually the blinds caught up with him. He began pushing blind, since his cards were so bad that looking would only cause him to freeze up. It worked once or twice, but eventually, F-Train called with A5d. Jordan showed 67o. The flop had a 5. The turn had another. Jordan was out of the tournament with two tables left in 14th place, 4 spots out of the money. It was technically a Lemon(!) moment, but it felt like lemonade.

Jordan left the table and wandered around for a bit. He finally decided that he should play more poker. But he was at Caesars, home of the stupid 1/3 game. Should he give it one more go?

Next time on The Neverending Trip Report: Jordan plays poker…but where?  Sports bets are placed…but on whom? Jordan turns in for an early night…or does he? Find out all this and more, next time on High on Poker!

Until next time, make mine poker!

A Win of Sorts

March 2nd, 2007

After a recent post, I decided not to share any more information regarding the location of the underground clubs I frequent in New York City. However, when I mentioned that I was returning to Salami last night, I received an email from Lastman Chris, dubbed herein because he was the last man that I gave the underground club information to before I decided on my moratrium. I had told Lastman about Salami, but he had yet to go, largely because it is difficult to get into any of these clubs without someone who has already been there.

As per usual, I raced home after work and donned my poker uniform. I try not to be superstitious, and its not as though I think the Superman t-shirt is lucky, but I win consistently when I’m wearing it, and so, I fell into old patterns. I loaded up the poker backpack, hit the subway and made a stop at PeanutButter & Co. for the lunchbox special. I took it to go, as Lastman was already near the club.

I’m really not the most social person. I can, at times, be an extrovert, to the point where I may seem like the most extroverted person out there, but most of the time, I’m glad to be a loner. When I met Lastman, though, I could tell fairly quickly that we would get along. He looked a bit like Soxlover, no offense to Lastman. We chatted for a bit as I gave him the rundown on the game. (1) $50+10 buy in; (2) 15 minute blinds, but it usually doesn’t feel like a fast structure, probably because of the slowly escalating blinds (25/50, 50/100, 75/150, 100/200, 150/300, etc.) and the insanely loose action, which helps build stacks on par with the blinds; (3) for the first two levels it is a re-register tournament, i.e., you can rebuy for $50+10 when you are felted, unless there is an alternate waiting, at which point you go to the back of the alternate list; (4) the game never gets off on time; and (5) the players are mostly maniacs. All good advice, as I am sure any Salami regulars will attest.

We entered the room after I gave the international sign for He’s with Me, a pointing motion between myself and Lastman while looking up at the security camera. When I entered, they still asked, “He’s with you.” I guess the place isn’t very international, regardless of the many accents.

We grabbed some seats at a table. There were maybe 6-7 players waiting around, but as per usual, the game was going to start late. I chatted lightly with Harris, a dentist who I had met previously at the game. It amazed me that the game never got started on time, but Harris’ explanation was dead-on. Players knew they could buy in late, so they were in no rush to be early. Truthfully, I would bet that the other reason is a conundrum faced by many home games. As soon as a player arrives early and sees that the game doesn’t kick off until 15 minutes after the scheduled start time, they decide (subconsciously or not) that they will show up 15 minutes late the next time. Why? Because no one wants to wait around, and people are slow and lazy. Of course, the natural problem is that the player shows up 15 minutes late, and suddenly the really slow players start arriving 30 minutes late. Suddenly, the 7:30 game is having trouble starting by 8pm (and in a home game setting that can even go later to 8:30, in my experiences).

I am a fairly timely person. In most instances, I arrive places early, largely because I believe that if you make a commitment to be somewhere, you should be there…on time. When it comes to poker, there is a second and third reason why I’m always on time or early. The second reason is my insane desire to play, leading me to leave early because I just can’t friggin’ wait to get my hands on some chips and cards. The third is the subtle (or not so subtle) tilt I feel when I buy-in late to a tournament. Even if I just missed two hands, I can’t help but feel like I have to catch up.

The game kicked off around 7:45 with one full table of 10 players. An alternate showed up, and after a while two more appeared and we were split to two tables. At first, I stayed tight. The game was as loose as ever, with a player in the first hand raising 3x the BB preflop UTG with 45d. He was called by 5 or more people and then bet at the 567 flop. He had one callers. He slowed down on the turn, and then checked the river when the other player, a loose, long-haired S&M porn producer/director/actor who has passed his prime, seemed prime to re-raise or call any bets. The two showed down their cards. Of course, the loose UTG player had 45d for a pair of 5s. The Ghost of Hardcore Pornography Past had A6o. It was going to be one of those nights.

Another player, wearing one of those floppy safari-type hats (or is it more Gilligan) with the brim that goes all the way around, was playing super loose. He was and is a calling station, and I finally decided to make my play when I was in position with 25h. I decide to raise it and he is the only caller in the BB. The flop is 28J and I decide to bet out after he checks. He calls. On the turn, another J, I push all-in, hoping to utilize my tight image (trust me, at this table, I’m tight), and represent three of a kind, but he called with T8, for a higher single pair. I miss the river and feel like a fool when I have to show my cards. “RE-REGISTER!”

At that point, Lastman had been moved to the second table. We had enough alternates for two tables of 7 (or maybe 6 and 7), but soon, the rebuy period ended and I was moved, due to a bust-out, to the second table, in the 2s. I had about 1300-1500 left out of my 2000 rebuy. I was really donking it up at the other table, trying to take advantage of the looseness but failing miserably because I was card dead. My luck did not change in my new location. I continued to fold away until I was dealt JJ, my second-best hand of the night. I raised to 450, which was 3x the BB. I had about 2300 at this point, leaving me with 1950 behind. Nick, a very smart and selectively aggressive player on my left was the chip leader or close to it, and called my bet. Another player with a big stack called from one of the blinds. The flop came down an UGLY AK8. The blind checked, and I considered checking as well. I decided, however, to represent the Ace, since I knew that the blind didn’t have it (from his check and demeanor) and Nick was playing against my small stack and is aggressive, so could have called with anything. I bet out 900, showing strength, but leaving me with some money behind. Nick pushed all-in. The blind folded. I thought for a minute, let out a sign through my nose and told Nick to keep my chips warm for me. I folded and he showed his Ace-8, two pair. I was desperately short.

The table was loose, but not as loose as the other table I was at. I folded for as long as I could, but found myself in the 150 BB with 850 or so chips. Nick limped in as did some other player in MP and the blind from the other hand, a young Israeli guy. The SB completed. I thought for a moment and decided to push all-in. A decent amount of my stack was already in the pot, there were a decent amount of money in the pot thanks to the limpers, and no one showed strength, so maybe they’d all fold. They didn’t I was called by Nick and the Israeli. I needed to get lucky. My cards were 23o. (Notably, I’d prefer this play with 23o than with A6o, largely because if I’m called by a big ace, I still have two live cards.)

The flop was J52, and I thought for a moment that I had a chance. Both players checked. The turn was a Queen. At this point, the Israeli bet. Nick thought for a moment and folded. I thought I was screwed. We flipped out cards and sure enough, he had Q9o, for top pair. I made a not so silent prayer and the river pealed off: 2. I tripled up and was back in decent shape.

In another hand, I had about 1650, and I did something I usually condemn. I pushed all-in with 27o on a stone cold bluff preflop after a limper or two. I was called in two places by Nick and a shorter stack across the table who had limped UTG. The EP limper had KK and Nick had A8. The flop had a 2 and the rest were blanks. I thought I was done, but after the shortstack limper took his main pot, there was still almost 1150 in the side pot. I got lucky with the hammer and had only lost 500 on the hand.

In the next hand, I was dealt AJo. I don’t remember the action too well, but when it got to me, it was not raised up. I pushed all-in with my stack. I believe it was Nick who called with an inferior hand (A9, maybe?). I doubled up again when we both failed to hit the board.

Suddenly, I had a healthy stack again. From there, the rest was a blur. We were at the final table and my seat and position relative to the aforementioned players really didn’t change. We got down to 6 or so and Lastman Chris busted out after a decent run stuck as (from what I could see) a card-dead shortstack who doubled up when he needed it. Down to 5, I was actually in 3rd place, but the twin towers of Nick and the Israeli made my stack pale in comparison. I had about 7-8k, but since there were 23 buy-ins and 46k in chips, I had a lot of work to do. I should mention that I amassed those chips by well-timed all-ins on the high blinds and antes. I eventually lost a chunk due to some necessary caution against Nick, but I was still technically in 3rd place. 5th place busted after I lost a bit of my stack, and then it was just me, Nick, the Israeli, and Moishe, one of the managers of the club. Moishe and I first met at my 2nd visit to the club. It was his first. We made it to the final two and he offered me a deal where he would get slightly more than half because he had me outchipped. At that time, I strong armed him and told him I’d gladly play for it if it wasn’t 50/50. He buckled. Since then, he had become a staple at the club and then part of the staff. He’s a bit abrasive, and definitely a gambler at heart. He also has a decent head for the game.

I tried to wait him out, and eventually got my wish. He went out when his better pair was one-outtered on the river by pocket 7s (a 7 was folded preflop by another player). Down to three, we were all in the money. Third only paid $110, and I was in the game for $120, so I simply stated, “If you want to buy me out, I’ll take $180. Otherwise, we’ll play it.” Truth be told, I was confident I could rebound, but the $180 would give me a buy-in-sized profit. The players scoffed and Moishe, who should have kept his mouth shut, seemed incredulous at the offer. “Why would we take that?” the Israeli said, following up Moishe’s comments. “Hey man, I’m just telling you my price. If you two want to make a deal and buy me out, there it is. If not, let’s do this.” I then tripled up on the first hand. HAHAHA! Fools.

I warned them while we were discussing deals that I was dangerous on a short stack. I always make this comment tongue-in-cheek, but the truth is, I AM dangerous on a short stack. I don’t fear pushing and my timing is often very good. Nick was getting into the folding groove. I actually wanted to induce more action, so when he folded his BB with KT face up, I showed my all-in push from the SB with K9. This set up led me to the hand of the night. But first…

Israeli and Nick were checking down most hands. Fine with me. I needed to double up some more to be a true force. I was in the BB with about 9k at this point and blinds/antes of 500/1000/100. Nick folded and Israeli called. I looked down at 94o and considered pushing to take the blinds and antes. I decided the timing wasn’t right. Something about the Israeli’s limp seemed odd, since my obvious move would then be to push. The flop didn’t hit me, and Israeli led out for 1k. Very odd indeed. I considered raising him, but then folded. He showed AA, and I complimented him on a well-set trap. It wasn’t actually too bad of a move, and had I had anything decent I may have been caught. It wasn’t the best play either, though, but I wanted to encourage his predictable action.

On the very next hand, I was dealt my best hand of the night, QQ. The Israeli folded and I decided to raise to 3000. The logical play for Nick, then would be to push or fold. If he had crap, he’d likely fold, but he would push all-in if he had an Ace, a decent King, any pair, and perhaps even worse cards under the belief that my weaker bet was out of fear.

He pushed. I called. He had 77 vs. my QQ. And he flopped a 7. I was out in 3rd with $110, $10 less than I bought in for.

I shook the two remaining players’ hands as they worked out their chop. I collected my money, made some small talk and then headed out into the cool night. There is always a moment when I leave Salami when I notice that I still have my sunglasses on, even though it is well past dark out. I removed them once outside, and chatted with Lastman Chris. He agreed that the action was silly loose, but he seemed to enjoy himself. Even if I never tell another person about Salami, I suppose I can rest well knowing that I helped some people out before the moratorium, and Salami will always have enough fishy players to make it worthwhile to keep it to myself.

Winning yet losing money is an odd thing. I still consider it the fourth cash in the Salami tournament in a row. I still consider it a win, of sorts, and blame the terrible payout structure more than anything. Really, 3rd place should have been $120, but it is what it is. I played very well at the end, and almost took 2nd place in chips if that QQ held up. I started off shakey, but used that early crappy play to actually improve my game instead of falling into tilt oblivion. I got lucky myself, with 23o and 27o, so losing with QQ v. 77 didn’t hurt too bad.

I might be going back tonight. Back to back Salami, baby! Wifey Kim is meeting a friend for dinner and drinks to celebrate her birthday, so I might as well get my gamble on. Tomorrow is a bust. I will be attending a wake with wifey Kim for one of her friend’s family members, so poker naturally takes a back seat. Then we are off to drinks with our friends to celebrate wifey Kim’s birthday properly.

I love the smell of poker chips in the morning. It smells like…victory.

Until next time, make mine poker!

Once again, it was a relatively card dead game for me. While I did get JJ and QQ, then next highest pocket pair I received was 88, followed by 55. I was dealt ATo and AJ, but nothing higher. I did not get KQ. Yet, I still made the money. And for that, I am proud.

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