Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Wheeling Island's poker room has moved
The new Wheeling Island poker room that's been in the planning stages for the last few months has officially opened. The new nine-table room is located upstairs, adjacent to the rest of the casino's table games. I've been told the room is separated from the rest of the casino by approximately six-foot-high walls that are open at the top but tall enough to give poker players some privacy and make the room feel like its own distinct location. Still haven't been to Wheeling Island since poker came to Pennsylvania, but I'm curious to check out the new poker room there first chance I get.
Friday, January 6, 2012
New Wheeling Island casino layout
Here's a newly released map showing the layout for the in-progress Wheeling Island casino redesign. (Just click on it to blow it up.) As you can see, the new poker room, which will jump up a floor from its current location, will be smaller than the old one, but casino officials have said that all nine tables Wheeling Island has recently been operating will make the jump to the new room.
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Wheeling Island poker room getting a new location, new name
Wheeling Island's nine-table poker room will soon be moving upstairs in a casino redesign that will eliminate all gaming on the building's lowest level.
Director of Table Games Mike Tusken confirmed Saturday that the move was in the works. Tusken said the final design of the new poker area is not yet complete but that it would be rechristened the Darvin Moon Poker Room, after the 2009 WSOP Main Event runner-up who won his way into that tournament via a Wheeling Island satellite.
"We are excited to move the poker room upstairs as we feel this will create better synergy with the Table Games department and the guests," Tusken said via email. "The poker room and cage now will be readily accessible to all the guests as the cage will be moving right next to the Table Games and Poker departments."
Wheeling Island's poker room opened in October 2007 with 20 tables and was routinely packed with players from all over the tri-state area. The room's table count, however, dropped to 12 and then to nine following the 2010 opening of poker rooms at The Meadows casino in Washington, PA and Rivers Casino on Pittsburgh's North Shore.
Tusken said casino officials decided to relocate the poker room and all slots from the bottom floor in an effort to move them away from the casino's flood zone. He also said there would be no interruption of play when the move is made.
Director of Table Games Mike Tusken confirmed Saturday that the move was in the works. Tusken said the final design of the new poker area is not yet complete but that it would be rechristened the Darvin Moon Poker Room, after the 2009 WSOP Main Event runner-up who won his way into that tournament via a Wheeling Island satellite.
"We are excited to move the poker room upstairs as we feel this will create better synergy with the Table Games department and the guests," Tusken said via email. "The poker room and cage now will be readily accessible to all the guests as the cage will be moving right next to the Table Games and Poker departments."
Wheeling Island's poker room opened in October 2007 with 20 tables and was routinely packed with players from all over the tri-state area. The room's table count, however, dropped to 12 and then to nine following the 2010 opening of poker rooms at The Meadows casino in Washington, PA and Rivers Casino on Pittsburgh's North Shore.
Tusken said casino officials decided to relocate the poker room and all slots from the bottom floor in an effort to move them away from the casino's flood zone. He also said there would be no interruption of play when the move is made.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Gold fold or bad fold?
Had this bizarre little hand happen to me during a recent session, and I still find myself wondering whether I made a good fold or not. As I'll never know the definitive answer, I figure the next best thing is to ask you guys what you would do. Here's how the hand played out ...
An aggressive player in early position at my $1/3 NLHE table raised pre to $8 -- an unusually small amount. He got three callers, including a bearded, forty-something man who had a bit of a Zach Galifianakis thing going on and had just sat down on my immediate right. I called from the button with 5♦-6♦, making me the fifth and final player to go to the flop, which came A♥-5♠-6♣. The original raiser and the two players behind him all checked. Zach, who had ~$135 in front of him, bet $15. I raised to $40. It folded around to Zach, who called. Turn came the K♠. Zach rechecked his cards and pushed his remaining ~$95.
Suffice to say, it was unexpected. And the big problem was I knew nothing about this guy, as he had played less than a single rotation. Sometimes you can guess how well somebody knows the game based on how they look. (Young kid who's wearing a hoodie and ear buds -- be wary. That kind of thing.) But, honestly, I had pretty much zero read on this guy, other than his flop bet was smallish yet it seemed like he was comfortable getting his money in on the turn. So ... what? Was he a novice with A-K who was tentative at first but couldn't wait to get his chips in when the king hit the turn? Maybe he was a sturdier player who flopped aces up and was now protecting his hand against A♠-X♠? Or perhaps he himself picked up a flush draw? Was he a genius who knew that shoving here would short-circuit my brain? Or just an idiot who decided his bare ace was good enough, so why not just get it all in ASAP?
I played tight and laid the hand down. So what do you think? Good play or bad play? After sitting with Zach a while longer and getting a read on his style, I developed a better feel of whether I should have called or not. But I'll save that info until a few comments come in. I'd like to first hear what you guys think, based on nothing but the information I had at the time.
An aggressive player in early position at my $1/3 NLHE table raised pre to $8 -- an unusually small amount. He got three callers, including a bearded, forty-something man who had a bit of a Zach Galifianakis thing going on and had just sat down on my immediate right. I called from the button with 5♦-6♦, making me the fifth and final player to go to the flop, which came A♥-5♠-6♣. The original raiser and the two players behind him all checked. Zach, who had ~$135 in front of him, bet $15. I raised to $40. It folded around to Zach, who called. Turn came the K♠. Zach rechecked his cards and pushed his remaining ~$95.
Suffice to say, it was unexpected. And the big problem was I knew nothing about this guy, as he had played less than a single rotation. Sometimes you can guess how well somebody knows the game based on how they look. (Young kid who's wearing a hoodie and ear buds -- be wary. That kind of thing.) But, honestly, I had pretty much zero read on this guy, other than his flop bet was smallish yet it seemed like he was comfortable getting his money in on the turn. So ... what? Was he a novice with A-K who was tentative at first but couldn't wait to get his chips in when the king hit the turn? Maybe he was a sturdier player who flopped aces up and was now protecting his hand against A♠-X♠? Or perhaps he himself picked up a flush draw? Was he a genius who knew that shoving here would short-circuit my brain? Or just an idiot who decided his bare ace was good enough, so why not just get it all in ASAP?
I played tight and laid the hand down. So what do you think? Good play or bad play? After sitting with Zach a while longer and getting a read on his style, I developed a better feel of whether I should have called or not. But I'll save that info until a few comments come in. I'd like to first hear what you guys think, based on nothing but the information I had at the time.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Broke
God, it's such an ugly word, isn't it? It's also not technically correct since my bankroll isn't quite down to zero. But after a -$237 spanking at The Meadows on Friday night, the roll is now less than what would constitute a single, respectable $1/3 NLHE buy-in.
So, basically ... I'm broke. And, boy, does it freakin' suck. I began documenting my poker results in early 2009, at a point when I was playing enough for it to make sense to start tracking how I was doing. Even though I was hitting the cardroom only casually -- a cash session once or twice a month with the occasional tournament sprinkled in -- I had run my profits up to $4,700 by October 2010. I was making just shy of $30 an hour at cash tables ranging from $1/2 to $2/5 NLHE, and it seemed like poker was going to be something I was good enough to be able to do in perpetuity without ever having to worry about not having the money to play.
Oh, how wrong I was. That November started a downturn for me that kept going ... and going ... and going. I've now played losing poker for a full year, and nearly all of my previous winnings are gone. What the hell happened? How is that even possible? Well, I guess it's likely some combination of these three things:
1. The poker rooms were soft when West Virginia and then Pennsylvania first got them. Now? Not so much. When I go back now and read some of my Stories from the Felt posts from 2009, my jaw drops at some of the bad play I witnessed and took advantage of. Hell, I'm embarrassed by some of my own play that I've documented here, but I was clearly good enough to suck dry the poker curious who frequented the area's poker rooms when they were the shiny, new thing. Those players are mostly gone now. Only five tables ran at The Meadows this past Friday, and there wasn't a single bad player at mine until the night got late and most of my money was already gone. (And even then there was only the one.) Whereas you used to be able to count on having at least a couple of spewy, overwhelmed players at any given table, you're now just as likely to be seated with nothing but Internet castoffs and super-tight septuagenarians. The games are hard now, a lot harder than they used to be, and I may not have the proper mindset and/or a good enough game to deal with that grind.
2. I've been extremely unlucky lately. How else can one explain that in each of my last two sessions, I've got it all-in heads-up with queens against jacks, only to watch a jack hit the board?! This downturn has now lasted 142 table hours, and during that time, I swear I've had to swim against a tide of near constant bad beats and bad timing. On Friday, I decided one time in seven hours to double-barrel bluff, in a hand where I had raised pre in position with silly holdings (itself a rare occurrence). It was against one other opponent while holding 4♥-5♥ on a J-J-7 board. And, of course, I picked this particular hand to do it, as the other guy was check-calling me with 7-7. There were 20 other times, in various positions with various holdings, where I could have chosen to fire twice at a pot and it would have won me the hand, but I picked this one. That's how things have been lately: When I make a move, I pick the worst time imaginable, and when I get it in good, the dealer bails the other guy out. And it seemingly never ends.
3. I'm really no better than a break-even poker player. I never was, and I'm not going to be until I improve my game. Yeah, I suppose it's possible to run bad for 142 hours. But it's just as possible that I ran good for the 163 hours I logged before the downturn started. Can I really claim to be unlucky now without in turn crediting good luck for my earlier fortunes? I once read that a live poker player shouldn't even bother looking at their statistics until they've reached 1,000 hours played, that before then there is no solid evidence to support how good or bad a player you are. If that's true, then I've still got a ways to go before I can truly evaluate my play. But the fact is there's no sense looking at things in potentially meaningless 150-hour chunks when the full picture presents a clearer truth: Right now, the data says I'm a break-even player. I'm not a chump or a fish or a pushover, but I've got too many leaks in my game to win consistently against an ever-improving field of opponents. If I don't plug those leaks, I'm going to continue to struggle. Maybe I won more than could be expected early and am losing more than I realistically should now, but the end result is the end result.
Jeez, writing that was depressing. But I guess this is me manning up and saying, "I need to get better at poker, or else I should probably quit playing." So what now? Well, I'm not Bobby Bellande. I can't just start calling my buds up and find someone to stake me. And I'm hesitant to start burning through my "real life" money, what with the holidays and an upcoming Springsteen tour and everything else in my non-poker life that comes with a price tag. I'm definitely going to take a month or two off from the casinos. Maybe pick up some new poker books; do some reading. It looks like there's a home game or two I'm going to be able to hit after the holidays. It might be good to get back to how I first started enjoying poker -- as a social activity done with friends.
As for this blog, it'll be here. I urge you not to unbookmark me or take me out of your Google reader. As always, I'll still be posting news from the local cardrooms. Plus, I've been planning some alternative poker content for this site for a while now, stuff that doesn't qualify under Stories from the Felt but should be entertaining nonetheless. Now may be a good time for me to get on that. And then, a couple months down the road, hopefully I'll be journeying back out to the tables. It's tough to imagine baseball season without being able to drop by Rivers following Pirates games. So, hopefully, by then I'll be back on the horse and will have righted the ship.
Ah, crap. It seems I may need to work on my mixed metaphors even more than I do my poker game.
So, basically ... I'm broke. And, boy, does it freakin' suck. I began documenting my poker results in early 2009, at a point when I was playing enough for it to make sense to start tracking how I was doing. Even though I was hitting the cardroom only casually -- a cash session once or twice a month with the occasional tournament sprinkled in -- I had run my profits up to $4,700 by October 2010. I was making just shy of $30 an hour at cash tables ranging from $1/2 to $2/5 NLHE, and it seemed like poker was going to be something I was good enough to be able to do in perpetuity without ever having to worry about not having the money to play.
Oh, how wrong I was. That November started a downturn for me that kept going ... and going ... and going. I've now played losing poker for a full year, and nearly all of my previous winnings are gone. What the hell happened? How is that even possible? Well, I guess it's likely some combination of these three things:
1. The poker rooms were soft when West Virginia and then Pennsylvania first got them. Now? Not so much. When I go back now and read some of my Stories from the Felt posts from 2009, my jaw drops at some of the bad play I witnessed and took advantage of. Hell, I'm embarrassed by some of my own play that I've documented here, but I was clearly good enough to suck dry the poker curious who frequented the area's poker rooms when they were the shiny, new thing. Those players are mostly gone now. Only five tables ran at The Meadows this past Friday, and there wasn't a single bad player at mine until the night got late and most of my money was already gone. (And even then there was only the one.) Whereas you used to be able to count on having at least a couple of spewy, overwhelmed players at any given table, you're now just as likely to be seated with nothing but Internet castoffs and super-tight septuagenarians. The games are hard now, a lot harder than they used to be, and I may not have the proper mindset and/or a good enough game to deal with that grind.
2. I've been extremely unlucky lately. How else can one explain that in each of my last two sessions, I've got it all-in heads-up with queens against jacks, only to watch a jack hit the board?! This downturn has now lasted 142 table hours, and during that time, I swear I've had to swim against a tide of near constant bad beats and bad timing. On Friday, I decided one time in seven hours to double-barrel bluff, in a hand where I had raised pre in position with silly holdings (itself a rare occurrence). It was against one other opponent while holding 4♥-5♥ on a J-J-7 board. And, of course, I picked this particular hand to do it, as the other guy was check-calling me with 7-7. There were 20 other times, in various positions with various holdings, where I could have chosen to fire twice at a pot and it would have won me the hand, but I picked this one. That's how things have been lately: When I make a move, I pick the worst time imaginable, and when I get it in good, the dealer bails the other guy out. And it seemingly never ends.
3. I'm really no better than a break-even poker player. I never was, and I'm not going to be until I improve my game. Yeah, I suppose it's possible to run bad for 142 hours. But it's just as possible that I ran good for the 163 hours I logged before the downturn started. Can I really claim to be unlucky now without in turn crediting good luck for my earlier fortunes? I once read that a live poker player shouldn't even bother looking at their statistics until they've reached 1,000 hours played, that before then there is no solid evidence to support how good or bad a player you are. If that's true, then I've still got a ways to go before I can truly evaluate my play. But the fact is there's no sense looking at things in potentially meaningless 150-hour chunks when the full picture presents a clearer truth: Right now, the data says I'm a break-even player. I'm not a chump or a fish or a pushover, but I've got too many leaks in my game to win consistently against an ever-improving field of opponents. If I don't plug those leaks, I'm going to continue to struggle. Maybe I won more than could be expected early and am losing more than I realistically should now, but the end result is the end result.
Jeez, writing that was depressing. But I guess this is me manning up and saying, "I need to get better at poker, or else I should probably quit playing." So what now? Well, I'm not Bobby Bellande. I can't just start calling my buds up and find someone to stake me. And I'm hesitant to start burning through my "real life" money, what with the holidays and an upcoming Springsteen tour and everything else in my non-poker life that comes with a price tag. I'm definitely going to take a month or two off from the casinos. Maybe pick up some new poker books; do some reading. It looks like there's a home game or two I'm going to be able to hit after the holidays. It might be good to get back to how I first started enjoying poker -- as a social activity done with friends.
As for this blog, it'll be here. I urge you not to unbookmark me or take me out of your Google reader. As always, I'll still be posting news from the local cardrooms. Plus, I've been planning some alternative poker content for this site for a while now, stuff that doesn't qualify under Stories from the Felt but should be entertaining nonetheless. Now may be a good time for me to get on that. And then, a couple months down the road, hopefully I'll be journeying back out to the tables. It's tough to imagine baseball season without being able to drop by Rivers following Pirates games. So, hopefully, by then I'll be back on the horse and will have righted the ship.
Ah, crap. It seems I may need to work on my mixed metaphors even more than I do my poker game.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Controversial ruling at Rivers
The following occurred in the very first hand played at the newly opened $1/3 NLHE table I joined at Rivers last Sunday.
Three players had gone to the river and committed quite a bit of money to the pot to get there. The aggressor most of the way was a young Asian kid so intent on splashing money around that he was already trying to buy lunch for the entire table. He was first to act, and when the river hit, Moneybags quickly put out a big bet.
The next player in line was an older man with a heavy foreign accent who somewhat quietly said "all-in," though I did hear it from two seats to his left. They dealer never announced the "all-in," instead turning to the third player in the hand who said "fold" and mucked his cards. Moneybags seemingly followed suit by also tossing his cards toward the dealer, but then immediately tried to get them back when table chatter immediately made it clear that Accent Guy had won the hand.
"Whoa, wait," Moneybags said. "I thought he folded, too. I want to call the all-in."
The dealer still had possession of Moneybags' two cards somewhere in the vicinity of the muck and quickly dragged them to a spot right in front of him. He then called a floor manager over to explain what had transpired. After hearing him out, the floor manager asked if Moneybags' cards had actually touched the muck -- the rest of the dead cards sitting in front of the dealer. The dealer said they hadn't, a fact which I'm not actually sure was true. Moneybags didn't just gently toss his cards forward; he threw them toward the dealer. They definitely made contact with the pot, and though I can't say for sure that neither card touched the muck, I'd be awfully surprised if one didn't. Still, the floor manager ruled that Moneybags' hand would play and told the dealer to show the cards. The dealer flipped them over, revealing a full house
Accent Guy, who had been quiet up to this point, went supernova. "No, no, no, no!" he yelled. "He mucked his hand! That hand is no good!" It turned out that Accent Guy was being so quiet because he assumed his straight was going to win the hand. Obviously, he assumed wrong, and suddenly he was not so happy with the ruling. The dealer explained that the floor had been called and a ruling made. Accent Guy demanded to see the room manager, who was summoned to the table.
The sequence of events was explained again, and once more, the primary focus was on whether Moneybags' cards ever touched the muck. The dealer said they did not. Accent Guy insisted they did. "What do you mean he didn't muck?" he barked. "Of course he mucked!" Accent Guy threw his cards sharply at the dealer, and they flew off the table.
The room manager confirmed the original ruling that, so long as the cards didn't touch the muck, Moneybags' hand would still be considered live. Accent Guy got up and stormed away from the table, while Moneybags collected his pot.
So, was the correct ruling made? I'm honestly not sure, and in attempting to determine an answer, several factors need to be considered.
1. What constitutes a dead hand?
Apparently, at Rivers, a hand is considered dead once the cards touch the muck. This is the same rule that other -- but not all -- casinos use to determine whether a folded hand can be "revived" into a live one or not. However, at some casinos, just showing intent to muck, such as tossing your cards face down toward the dealer, is good enough for a hand to be declared dead. Some poker rooms use the betting line as the point of no return, but, as we all know, Rivers doesn't employ a betting line. Assuming Rivers enforces the "touching the muck" rule consistently, Moneybags has a real case that his hand is playable.
2. But what if Moneybags' cards did touch the muck?
Again, I thought they did, and the player on each side of me thought they did, although none of us could say with 100 percent certainty. And since none of us were involved in the pot, we didn't speak out. But, truthfully, I don't think the dealer knew whether they did or not. I think the dealer knew that Moneybags' cards were still identifiable, as he had them tucked under one hand, and rolled with the story that he thought would get him in the least amount of trouble. If I were Accent Guy, I likely would have demanded that the room manager check the footage from the overhead security camera to determine whether the cards touched the muck or not.
3. Did Accent Guy wait too long to protest the ruling?
Because he thought he was going to win the hand, Accent Guy didn't once protest the floor manager's ruling until after Moneybags' cards were turned over and he saw that he had lost. Should that have an effect on the room manager's final ruling? Or, to ask it another way, since Accent Guy was fine with the original ruling when he thought he was going to win the hand, should his argument hold any weight once he realized he was going to lose the hand? Hmm ...
4. Is it ultimately Moneybags' responsibility to pay attention to what's going on at the table?
It was very clear Moneybags' intended to muck cards. It was also clear that he wouldn't have done so had he known Accent Guy had shoved instead of folded. So, the big question is: Do we give a guy a pass for not paying attention? Yes, Accent Guy's all-in announcement was somewhat quiet. And, yes, the dealer failed to note the all-in in any way, either by verbally confirming it or pulling chips into the middle of the table. Still, if Moneybags would have been paying attention to the game rather than being a showoff, he would have clearly seen that Accent Guy's two cards remained in front of him. So should he be excused for his lack of focus or punished for it?
I've thought about this hand for a few days now and talked it over with a friend who was playing at the table with me. Ultimately, if Rivers' rule is that a hand is not officially dead until it hits the muck. then I guess Moneybags' hand had to play. But I think, in a perfect world, it would be declared dead. It should ultimately be the responsibility of each player to make sure their hand remains protected until a pot is awarded. Allowing clearly folded hands to be retrieved just because they didn't hit the muck can lead to serious angle-shooting. (What if I casually fold a hand to another player's river bet by pushing my cards just halfway toward the middle of the table, then the other players quickly shows a bluff? Can I then say, "Wait! I meant to call. My cards haven't been mucked yet"?) Yes, I understand Moneybags would never have folded had he clearly understood the series of events following the river, but fold he did. And when folding becomes a gray area, that can cause serious problems.
UPDATE: The handsome and cunning Grange95 has tackled this hand over at his crAAKKer blog. Go read how, under general poker rules, there really is no such thing as a "magical muck" that can instantly kill a hand dead.
Three players had gone to the river and committed quite a bit of money to the pot to get there. The aggressor most of the way was a young Asian kid so intent on splashing money around that he was already trying to buy lunch for the entire table. He was first to act, and when the river hit, Moneybags quickly put out a big bet.
The next player in line was an older man with a heavy foreign accent who somewhat quietly said "all-in," though I did hear it from two seats to his left. They dealer never announced the "all-in," instead turning to the third player in the hand who said "fold" and mucked his cards. Moneybags seemingly followed suit by also tossing his cards toward the dealer, but then immediately tried to get them back when table chatter immediately made it clear that Accent Guy had won the hand.
"Whoa, wait," Moneybags said. "I thought he folded, too. I want to call the all-in."
The dealer still had possession of Moneybags' two cards somewhere in the vicinity of the muck and quickly dragged them to a spot right in front of him. He then called a floor manager over to explain what had transpired. After hearing him out, the floor manager asked if Moneybags' cards had actually touched the muck -- the rest of the dead cards sitting in front of the dealer. The dealer said they hadn't, a fact which I'm not actually sure was true. Moneybags didn't just gently toss his cards forward; he threw them toward the dealer. They definitely made contact with the pot, and though I can't say for sure that neither card touched the muck, I'd be awfully surprised if one didn't. Still, the floor manager ruled that Moneybags' hand would play and told the dealer to show the cards. The dealer flipped them over, revealing a full house
Accent Guy, who had been quiet up to this point, went supernova. "No, no, no, no!" he yelled. "He mucked his hand! That hand is no good!" It turned out that Accent Guy was being so quiet because he assumed his straight was going to win the hand. Obviously, he assumed wrong, and suddenly he was not so happy with the ruling. The dealer explained that the floor had been called and a ruling made. Accent Guy demanded to see the room manager, who was summoned to the table.
The sequence of events was explained again, and once more, the primary focus was on whether Moneybags' cards ever touched the muck. The dealer said they did not. Accent Guy insisted they did. "What do you mean he didn't muck?" he barked. "Of course he mucked!" Accent Guy threw his cards sharply at the dealer, and they flew off the table.
The room manager confirmed the original ruling that, so long as the cards didn't touch the muck, Moneybags' hand would still be considered live. Accent Guy got up and stormed away from the table, while Moneybags collected his pot.
So, was the correct ruling made? I'm honestly not sure, and in attempting to determine an answer, several factors need to be considered.
1. What constitutes a dead hand?
Apparently, at Rivers, a hand is considered dead once the cards touch the muck. This is the same rule that other -- but not all -- casinos use to determine whether a folded hand can be "revived" into a live one or not. However, at some casinos, just showing intent to muck, such as tossing your cards face down toward the dealer, is good enough for a hand to be declared dead. Some poker rooms use the betting line as the point of no return, but, as we all know, Rivers doesn't employ a betting line. Assuming Rivers enforces the "touching the muck" rule consistently, Moneybags has a real case that his hand is playable.
2. But what if Moneybags' cards did touch the muck?
Again, I thought they did, and the player on each side of me thought they did, although none of us could say with 100 percent certainty. And since none of us were involved in the pot, we didn't speak out. But, truthfully, I don't think the dealer knew whether they did or not. I think the dealer knew that Moneybags' cards were still identifiable, as he had them tucked under one hand, and rolled with the story that he thought would get him in the least amount of trouble. If I were Accent Guy, I likely would have demanded that the room manager check the footage from the overhead security camera to determine whether the cards touched the muck or not.
3. Did Accent Guy wait too long to protest the ruling?
Because he thought he was going to win the hand, Accent Guy didn't once protest the floor manager's ruling until after Moneybags' cards were turned over and he saw that he had lost. Should that have an effect on the room manager's final ruling? Or, to ask it another way, since Accent Guy was fine with the original ruling when he thought he was going to win the hand, should his argument hold any weight once he realized he was going to lose the hand? Hmm ...
4. Is it ultimately Moneybags' responsibility to pay attention to what's going on at the table?
It was very clear Moneybags' intended to muck cards. It was also clear that he wouldn't have done so had he known Accent Guy had shoved instead of folded. So, the big question is: Do we give a guy a pass for not paying attention? Yes, Accent Guy's all-in announcement was somewhat quiet. And, yes, the dealer failed to note the all-in in any way, either by verbally confirming it or pulling chips into the middle of the table. Still, if Moneybags would have been paying attention to the game rather than being a showoff, he would have clearly seen that Accent Guy's two cards remained in front of him. So should he be excused for his lack of focus or punished for it?
I've thought about this hand for a few days now and talked it over with a friend who was playing at the table with me. Ultimately, if Rivers' rule is that a hand is not officially dead until it hits the muck. then I guess Moneybags' hand had to play. But I think, in a perfect world, it would be declared dead. It should ultimately be the responsibility of each player to make sure their hand remains protected until a pot is awarded. Allowing clearly folded hands to be retrieved just because they didn't hit the muck can lead to serious angle-shooting. (What if I casually fold a hand to another player's river bet by pushing my cards just halfway toward the middle of the table, then the other players quickly shows a bluff? Can I then say, "Wait! I meant to call. My cards haven't been mucked yet"?) Yes, I understand Moneybags would never have folded had he clearly understood the series of events following the river, but fold he did. And when folding becomes a gray area, that can cause serious problems.
UPDATE: The handsome and cunning Grange95 has tackled this hand over at his crAAKKer blog. Go read how, under general poker rules, there really is no such thing as a "magical muck" that can instantly kill a hand dead.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
The Meadows shitcans Franco Harris
It's only in the last month or so that I started seeing commercials with Franco Harris and Rocky Bleier urging me to gamble at The Meadows. It drew a small smirk out of me, as I'm always slightly amused at how the faces and names of '70s Steelers greats are still used to convince Pittsburghers where to spend their money. But this particular smirk also had a nasty side, as I really don't like Franco. A lot of that has to do with him getting asked (and agreeing) to drop the puck at the NHL Winter Classic held here last January despite him being a part of the Harrah's casino team that didn't want to help build a new arena for the Penguins back before the Pittsburgh casino license had been rewarded. But, even apart from that situation, the guy always comes across as a self-serving egotist somewhat removed from reality.
So it's no big surprise then that Franco has come out publicly in support of his old college coach Joe Paterno, despite all evidence pointing to the conclusion that Paterno was almost certainly involved in covering up the disgusting child-molestation scandal now rocking Penn State. It is a little shocking, though, that The Meadows moved so quickly to fire him from endorsing the casino. Shocking, but also commendable. Casinos have a hard enough time convincing a large percentage of the public that they're not innately evil institutions. The last thing The Meadows needed was Franco running around defending the indefensible Paterno while also serving as a casino mouthpiece.
So it's no big surprise then that Franco has come out publicly in support of his old college coach Joe Paterno, despite all evidence pointing to the conclusion that Paterno was almost certainly involved in covering up the disgusting child-molestation scandal now rocking Penn State. It is a little shocking, though, that The Meadows moved so quickly to fire him from endorsing the casino. Shocking, but also commendable. Casinos have a hard enough time convincing a large percentage of the public that they're not innately evil institutions. The last thing The Meadows needed was Franco running around defending the indefensible Paterno while also serving as a casino mouthpiece.
Monday, November 7, 2011
About the donation button
Asking for money is always awkward. Just the appearance of petitioning for handouts seems skeevy to me. Yet after considering it for a while, I've decided to put a donation button in the right sidebar for anyone who has enjoyed the writing I do here and wants to reward me via PayPal with a bit more than a nice comment or a pat on the back
See? Sounds icky, right? Here's the deal: I've written this blog for nearly four years, all the while making enough annual income from advertising to maybe pay for half a trip to the grocery store. And that's totally fine. If no one ever sends me a single penny courtesy of that donation button, I'll gladly go on writing for the next four years and beyond. I like doing it, and it offers me significant stress relief to be able to come back from a particularly harsh session and vent on this blog. I also appreciate my readers and think my game has been helped by the strategy talk that occasionally unspools in the comments sections under my posts. Long story short: I find this blog to be worth doing even if I never make any significant money off of it.
Yet these are hard times for independent writers. I don't get paid to freelance elsewhere as much as I used to. Opportunities to get one's work seen by other people can be fleeting, and even when a regular gig does come along, there's no guarantee it will last. So even though I'm convinced that not a single person who reads and enjoys this blog owes me a damn thing, I feel I'd be doing myself a disservice by not at least giving readers the option to reward a guy for a job well done.
Thus, the donate button. No one needs to use it. In fact, I'm not really expecting anyone to use it. But just in case I'm wrong, it's there.
See? Sounds icky, right? Here's the deal: I've written this blog for nearly four years, all the while making enough annual income from advertising to maybe pay for half a trip to the grocery store. And that's totally fine. If no one ever sends me a single penny courtesy of that donation button, I'll gladly go on writing for the next four years and beyond. I like doing it, and it offers me significant stress relief to be able to come back from a particularly harsh session and vent on this blog. I also appreciate my readers and think my game has been helped by the strategy talk that occasionally unspools in the comments sections under my posts. Long story short: I find this blog to be worth doing even if I never make any significant money off of it.
Yet these are hard times for independent writers. I don't get paid to freelance elsewhere as much as I used to. Opportunities to get one's work seen by other people can be fleeting, and even when a regular gig does come along, there's no guarantee it will last. So even though I'm convinced that not a single person who reads and enjoys this blog owes me a damn thing, I feel I'd be doing myself a disservice by not at least giving readers the option to reward a guy for a job well done.
Thus, the donate button. No one needs to use it. In fact, I'm not really expecting anyone to use it. But just in case I'm wrong, it's there.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Some bonus Maria Ho Q&A
When I interviewed poker pro Maria Ho for Guy.com earlier this fall, I ended up cutting some of the more "inside baseball" parts of the discussion to meet my assigned word count. Specifically, we talked for a few minutes about the U.S. government's April shutdown of Poker Stars and Full Tilt, which virtually eliminated online poker in this country. I thought you guys might want to read what Maria had to say on the subject, so I figured I'd publish that portion of the interview here:
MARIA: It’s definitely hurt a lot of people. Most of the
professional poker players who did play online had 80 percent of their net
worth and upwards online. A lot of that money is frozen, so even though they
could walk into a casino and play live, they’re not really able to because
they’re having bankroll issues. And, also, there are just less opportunities
now in poker than there were a year ago or four years ago. Whereas doing well
in poker tournaments meant that you could get sponsorships from the online
poker sites, that extra income from poker just doesn’t really exist any more.
It definitely hurt the professionals who are entrenched in the community. As
far as recreational players go, I don’t think it’s affected them nearly as
much. As far as live poker tournaments go, the World Series of Poker saw a
bigger turnout than they did last year for a lot of their preliminary
events. And even for their Main Event,
people were expecting way less than what actually showed up. I think, overall,
poker is still alive and well in the general sense, but there are definitely
some people who were very much affected by it.
BOB: I’ve been watching the WSOP coverage on ESPN and
noticing how much less advertising and sponsorship patches there are in the
wake of the government shutting down the online poker sites in the United
States. How much has the pro-poker world changed since that occurred?
BOB: Have you been personally involved at all in the push to
make online poker completely legal in the United States?
MARIA: There is the Poker Players
Alliance and a couple of other coalitions that are sending letters to people
in the government in order to try to get online poker legalized and regulated,
and I’ve donated money to those groups so that they can continue their lobbying
efforts. Ultimately it’s just a matter of time [before online poker returns to
the United States]. I think the government just wanted to make an example out
of the situation and be able to tax it in the end. I’m not worried about it
coming back. It’s just a matter of when it will.
If you want to read my full interview with Maria as originally published, all you need to do is click right here.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Why do I get punished for playing so damn good?
Alternate headline: Two bitch sessions for the price of one!
I'm in the middle of what's supposed to be a poker break. The usual tale: Bad beats, bad play, low bankroll. I just needed to take some time off and clear my head a little. I hadn't played at all in about a month and was planning on staying away from the tables until the weekend before Thanksgiving, when a buddy from out of town is visiting and wants to play at Rivers.
However, watching two hours of WSOP coverage every week got me jonesing, so I decided to hit up The Meadows today for a $65 noon tournament they were advertising. A nice, cheap afternoon tourney seemed like a good way to play some hands without committing a bunch of money to a cash session before I'm ready.
The first thing that pissed me off was that The Meadows didn't properly advertise the tournament on their website. Here's what they had on their schedule:
What that fails to tell you is that prize pool was set up so that the final eight players would all evenly split the pot. (Each would receive an equal piece of the "Pumpkin Pie." Har har.) Not a single player at my starting table realized the prize pool would be distributed in this way until the cards were already in the air, and most were very unhappy about it. A floor person there just blew off the complaints and said we needed to read the fine print. I say that a huge majority of players pick what tournaments to play in based on the schedule posted at the casino's website, and The Meadows needs to make sure all pertinent information, including ... oh, you know ... an odd payout structure, is included on that schedule. At least they got a good amount of entrants for the tournament -- just shy of 60, meaning each of the eight "winners" would get paid $360 each. Not bad considering.
So, anyway, the tournament ...
I played fairly well early despite not having much in the way of cards. Took down one nice pot with queen high courtesy of a good read and didn't get myself into trouble by playing mediocre hands out of position. Couldn't seem to get a monster hand or pull in a big score, though. By the time we got to level six ($1,200/$600 blinds), I was sitting with ~$20,000, which doesn't sound great but, considering the fast, shallow-stack structure, was enough to work with. (There were, I think, three stacks at the table smaller than mine.) Still, the first break was coming up, and I knew the whole thing would soon turn into a shovefest sooner rather than later. I really wanted to win one nice pot before that happened.
Then, in the final hand before the break, I got dealt K♣-K♠ under the gun. Normally, I'd raise, but here was the interesting thing: The woman sitting on my immediate left had just lost most of her chips in a big hand and was down to just under $3,000. I knew she was going to put that money in with any half-assed hand -- any ace, any king, any two face cards, any suited connectors. I decided it would be better to just limp in front of her and let her shove if she wanted. That would almost certainly draw at least one caller, and I could get a pot built before dropping the trap. Sure enough, she put her short stack in just as I figured, and it folded around to a guy at the far end who was sitting on the table's biggest stack. With barely a hesitation, he checked his cards and announced all-in. In his mind there was no difference between just doubling or tripling her bet and shoving it all because he was 100 percent certain the rest of the table was going to fold and I was going to go away. I swear he did a double-take when I snap-called. We flipped our hands:
Me: The kings
Her: A♥-9♣
Him: A♦-5♦
My plan had worked to perfection, even better than I could have hoped. I was now a huge favorite against two shitty hands that were sharing aces. I was so proud of my smart little play. I was going to double up and then some headed into the break!
And then the dealer went and put two diamonds out on the flop and a third on the river, giving the big stack a nut flush that mashed my pocket kings into dust.
Suffice to say, I'm not going to have too much of a problem staying away from the tables for the next three weeks.
I'm in the middle of what's supposed to be a poker break. The usual tale: Bad beats, bad play, low bankroll. I just needed to take some time off and clear my head a little. I hadn't played at all in about a month and was planning on staying away from the tables until the weekend before Thanksgiving, when a buddy from out of town is visiting and wants to play at Rivers.
However, watching two hours of WSOP coverage every week got me jonesing, so I decided to hit up The Meadows today for a $65 noon tournament they were advertising. A nice, cheap afternoon tourney seemed like a good way to play some hands without committing a bunch of money to a cash session before I'm ready.
The first thing that pissed me off was that The Meadows didn't properly advertise the tournament on their website. Here's what they had on their schedule:
What that fails to tell you is that prize pool was set up so that the final eight players would all evenly split the pot. (Each would receive an equal piece of the "Pumpkin Pie." Har har.) Not a single player at my starting table realized the prize pool would be distributed in this way until the cards were already in the air, and most were very unhappy about it. A floor person there just blew off the complaints and said we needed to read the fine print. I say that a huge majority of players pick what tournaments to play in based on the schedule posted at the casino's website, and The Meadows needs to make sure all pertinent information, including ... oh, you know ... an odd payout structure, is included on that schedule. At least they got a good amount of entrants for the tournament -- just shy of 60, meaning each of the eight "winners" would get paid $360 each. Not bad considering.
So, anyway, the tournament ...
I played fairly well early despite not having much in the way of cards. Took down one nice pot with queen high courtesy of a good read and didn't get myself into trouble by playing mediocre hands out of position. Couldn't seem to get a monster hand or pull in a big score, though. By the time we got to level six ($1,200/$600 blinds), I was sitting with ~$20,000, which doesn't sound great but, considering the fast, shallow-stack structure, was enough to work with. (There were, I think, three stacks at the table smaller than mine.) Still, the first break was coming up, and I knew the whole thing would soon turn into a shovefest sooner rather than later. I really wanted to win one nice pot before that happened.
Then, in the final hand before the break, I got dealt K♣-K♠ under the gun. Normally, I'd raise, but here was the interesting thing: The woman sitting on my immediate left had just lost most of her chips in a big hand and was down to just under $3,000. I knew she was going to put that money in with any half-assed hand -- any ace, any king, any two face cards, any suited connectors. I decided it would be better to just limp in front of her and let her shove if she wanted. That would almost certainly draw at least one caller, and I could get a pot built before dropping the trap. Sure enough, she put her short stack in just as I figured, and it folded around to a guy at the far end who was sitting on the table's biggest stack. With barely a hesitation, he checked his cards and announced all-in. In his mind there was no difference between just doubling or tripling her bet and shoving it all because he was 100 percent certain the rest of the table was going to fold and I was going to go away. I swear he did a double-take when I snap-called. We flipped our hands:
Me: The kings
Her: A♥-9♣
Him: A♦-5♦
My plan had worked to perfection, even better than I could have hoped. I was now a huge favorite against two shitty hands that were sharing aces. I was so proud of my smart little play. I was going to double up and then some headed into the break!
And then the dealer went and put two diamonds out on the flop and a third on the river, giving the big stack a nut flush that mashed my pocket kings into dust.
Suffice to say, I'm not going to have too much of a problem staying away from the tables for the next three weeks.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
I interviewed Maria Ho!
Some of you might know that Three Rivers Poker isn't the only place on the Net where you can find my work. One of the others is Guy.com, where I do some pop-culture writing, including a weekly TV column. My editor there knows I'm into poker and was aware of this blog, so when Maria Ho's people contacted the site over the summer about a possible interview, I got offered the assignment.My answer: Hells yeah! Cut to a few weeks ago, and I find myself chatting with Maria over the phone for 20 minutes. Here's a small sample of our conversation:
BOB: What was it about poker that originally attracted you to it?
MARIA: I’ve always been a really competitive person. Growing up in my household, we would play games around the kitchen table. Everybody in my family is so cutthroat and so competitive, and they instilled that kind of competitive spirit in me. I was drawn to the game because I like to win. And it was very challenging. I realized very quickly that any time you think you’re good at poker, you’re really not. Any time you think you know everything there is about the game, you really know so little. That really intrigued me because I think what makes it interesting and what keeps it interesting for me even to this day is that no two hands are alike. All the variables are constantly changing.
BOB: I’ve always wanted to ask a professional poker player this question, and I finally get my chance. Do pro players set their DVRs to watch themselves on TV?
MARIA: [Laughs] Umm… yes. Anybody that says that they don’t want to or haven’t watched themselves play poker on TV is lying. But there are also reasons why. It’s good to get information on your opponents, even though it’s after the fact. These are people who you are going to end up seeing again on the tournament trail. It’s good to watch back to pick up on things other people are doing. Down the line you can use that information to your advantage. And, obviously, I don’t think any poker player, when they first started playing poker, thought that would lead to them being on TV for it. So everyone is kind of interested in watching themselves on TV.
You can read the full interview at Guy.com by clicking right here. Additionally, I had to edit out a few of my nerdier poker questions to meet my assigned word count, but I'll be publishing those here, along with Maria's answers, in the not-too-distant future.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Anatomy of a meltdown
Got killed playing $1/3 NLHE at The Meadows on Friday. Let's rewind the tape and figure out how exactly I found myself completely on tilt by the end of that session ...
The table: Me; five unassuming players; two nits who wouldn't even raise with a set; and two aggressive types, one of whom used his aggressiveness to his advantage (we'll call him Lil' Aggro) and one who just threw money into the pot pretty much nonstop (we'll call him Mega Aggro).
Lost a good amount of money early trying (and failing) to set-mine with small pocket pairs but won all of it back one hand when I was the second player to call a short-stack all-in on the flop. (I had two overs and an open-ended straight draw.) Fourth street gave me the nuts, and I took down the whole thing by raising the other live hand's turn bet. So I was back to even, while Mega Aggro was down more than $300 and buying in for more. I was licking my lips.
My first big hand against him started when I raised preflop to $15 with A♠-K♥. He had limped and then called me out of position. Flop: Q♠-J♦-4♣. He checked, I C-bet $25 and he called. Turn paired the four. Check, check. River was a total blank, and he bet $60.
Well, there's no need to make a hero call now. Just let this one go. I'll get it back and then some later.
I folded. Fifteen minutes later, Mega Aggro limped, I raised to $15 with Q♦-Q♥, and he called again. Flop: Q♠-9♣-6♦. This guy had been recklessly attempting to buy pots all night. I could feel that this was the one.
Payday!
He checked, and I bet $15 (admittedly a "sucker the guy in" amount, but I'm fairly sure that's not something he would have taken notice of). He insta-mucked.
Oh, come on!! This guy's been throwing away money trying to steal pots all night! He's going to stop now when I flop top set?! That's bullshit!
Tilty impulses started swimming through my brain. Meanwhile, Lil' Aggro kept on plugging, raising it up preflop to $15 three or four times every trip around the table, but playing fairly smart postflop. I was usually folding to him, but eventually finally found a hand I could call with in K♣-10♣. Unfortunately, Mega Aggro, who had rediscovered his thieving ways and was down to his last $90 because of them, three-bet shoved. Lil' Aggro called.
Well, damn, as much as I want to nail these guys, I can't in my right mind put $75 more in pre with king-freakin'-10. Can I?!
I seriously almost did. But full-scale tilt had not been reached yet. I folded and watched the board come K-8-6-6-2 with no flushes. Lil' Aggro had Q-Q. Mega Aggro had A-7 off.
Are you fucking kidding me?!
I would have finally made a real hand to play back at Lil' Aggro with and would have almost certainly won the pot, but Mega Aggro screwed it all up by shoving the last of his chips in with A-7.
It's not fair, I tell ya. Not fair at all. This guy folds to my set of queens and then gets crazy with A-7 off?! Fuuuuuuuck!!
The very next hand, while Mega Aggro was slinking away from the table for good, Lil' Aggro rasied his usual $15. No big surprise. He did it all the time. I looked down at 9♠-9♣, not a hand I typically three-bet with, but it looked good compared to Lil' Aggro's range.
Guess it's up to me to give this guy a smack.
I re-raised to $40. He shoved, putting me all-in. I had about $100 more back.
This. Cannot. Be. Happening.
I eyed him suspiciously. "You seriously got dealt a big pair in back-to-back hands?" I asked.
"Nah, I don't have a pair," he replied. "Let's race."
He's lying. He's trying to get me to call. Don't fall for it.
"I don't think we're racing," I said. "I think you've got me crushed."
I was looking for a better read. He just shrugged. Bad thoughts consumed my brain.
This guy does love to put money in preflop. Plus, he just won a big hand. Hmm, could he be getting greedy with A-K or A-Q ... or maybe a lower pocket pair? I missed my chance with the other guy, and I'm tired of getting pushed around. I really need to teach at least one of these dudes a lesson. I need to take a stand, damn it!
I called. Neither of us showed. The board came out J-10-2-7-4, no flushes.
Well, I'm still ahead of A-K and A-Q.
I glanced over at Lil' Aggro. He casually flipped over his cards -- two aces. I mucked my cards while the sad realization dawned on me that I just lost $140 on a pair of goddamn nines. That's something that would have never happened early in the session.
This is exactly why poker experts talk about how important it is to control your emotions at the table. I didn't, and I paid.
Lesson learned?
We'll see ...
The table: Me; five unassuming players; two nits who wouldn't even raise with a set; and two aggressive types, one of whom used his aggressiveness to his advantage (we'll call him Lil' Aggro) and one who just threw money into the pot pretty much nonstop (we'll call him Mega Aggro).
Lost a good amount of money early trying (and failing) to set-mine with small pocket pairs but won all of it back one hand when I was the second player to call a short-stack all-in on the flop. (I had two overs and an open-ended straight draw.) Fourth street gave me the nuts, and I took down the whole thing by raising the other live hand's turn bet. So I was back to even, while Mega Aggro was down more than $300 and buying in for more. I was licking my lips.
My first big hand against him started when I raised preflop to $15 with A♠-K♥. He had limped and then called me out of position. Flop: Q♠-J♦-4♣. He checked, I C-bet $25 and he called. Turn paired the four. Check, check. River was a total blank, and he bet $60.
Well, there's no need to make a hero call now. Just let this one go. I'll get it back and then some later.
I folded. Fifteen minutes later, Mega Aggro limped, I raised to $15 with Q♦-Q♥, and he called again. Flop: Q♠-9♣-6♦. This guy had been recklessly attempting to buy pots all night. I could feel that this was the one.
Payday!
He checked, and I bet $15 (admittedly a "sucker the guy in" amount, but I'm fairly sure that's not something he would have taken notice of). He insta-mucked.
Oh, come on!! This guy's been throwing away money trying to steal pots all night! He's going to stop now when I flop top set?! That's bullshit!
Tilty impulses started swimming through my brain. Meanwhile, Lil' Aggro kept on plugging, raising it up preflop to $15 three or four times every trip around the table, but playing fairly smart postflop. I was usually folding to him, but eventually finally found a hand I could call with in K♣-10♣. Unfortunately, Mega Aggro, who had rediscovered his thieving ways and was down to his last $90 because of them, three-bet shoved. Lil' Aggro called.
Well, damn, as much as I want to nail these guys, I can't in my right mind put $75 more in pre with king-freakin'-10. Can I?!
I seriously almost did. But full-scale tilt had not been reached yet. I folded and watched the board come K-8-6-6-2 with no flushes. Lil' Aggro had Q-Q. Mega Aggro had A-7 off.
Are you fucking kidding me?!
I would have finally made a real hand to play back at Lil' Aggro with and would have almost certainly won the pot, but Mega Aggro screwed it all up by shoving the last of his chips in with A-7.
It's not fair, I tell ya. Not fair at all. This guy folds to my set of queens and then gets crazy with A-7 off?! Fuuuuuuuck!!
The very next hand, while Mega Aggro was slinking away from the table for good, Lil' Aggro rasied his usual $15. No big surprise. He did it all the time. I looked down at 9♠-9♣, not a hand I typically three-bet with, but it looked good compared to Lil' Aggro's range.
Guess it's up to me to give this guy a smack.
I re-raised to $40. He shoved, putting me all-in. I had about $100 more back.
This. Cannot. Be. Happening.
I eyed him suspiciously. "You seriously got dealt a big pair in back-to-back hands?" I asked.
"Nah, I don't have a pair," he replied. "Let's race."
He's lying. He's trying to get me to call. Don't fall for it.
"I don't think we're racing," I said. "I think you've got me crushed."
I was looking for a better read. He just shrugged. Bad thoughts consumed my brain.
This guy does love to put money in preflop. Plus, he just won a big hand. Hmm, could he be getting greedy with A-K or A-Q ... or maybe a lower pocket pair? I missed my chance with the other guy, and I'm tired of getting pushed around. I really need to teach at least one of these dudes a lesson. I need to take a stand, damn it!
I called. Neither of us showed. The board came out J-10-2-7-4, no flushes.
Well, I'm still ahead of A-K and A-Q.
I glanced over at Lil' Aggro. He casually flipped over his cards -- two aces. I mucked my cards while the sad realization dawned on me that I just lost $140 on a pair of goddamn nines. That's something that would have never happened early in the session.
This is exactly why poker experts talk about how important it is to control your emotions at the table. I didn't, and I paid.
Lesson learned?
We'll see ...
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Bailed out by Omaha again
Played at an incredibly tough $1/3 NLHE table at The Meadows last Friday night. There wasn't a bad player in the bunch. Was unashamedly down $50 after nearly four hours when the front desk announced they had enough players to open up a $1/3 PLO table, so I made the jump over. (Easy decision, as I was going nowhere at the holdem table. And, as I like to remind people every chance I get, I have never lost money playing any variant of Omaha in a casino.)
It was a crazy, crazy game, with the action driven by a couple of $2/5 regulars who were looking for a table to splash some serious money around. And, as a bonus, one of them was drunk out of his mind. I bought it for $215, which ended up being ridiculously short. This was partially because everyone else had bought in for $400 or more, but the fact that the drunk guy (who looked a bit like comedian Patton Oswalt) would raise the max preflop three out of every five hands didn't help either.
Still, I figured I'd give it a go with the short stack, which meant lots of folding early on as I watched huge stacks of money get pushed around the table. Then, about a half-hour in, I peeked down at A♥-K♦-K♣-10♣ in the small blind with nothing but limpers in front of me. I raised the pot (which brought it up to ~$60), thinking that would likely end the hand, but I apparently misjudged just how much whiskey Patton has consumed that evening. Without even rechecking his cards, he raised the pot again, which essentially committed me preflop. It folded around, and I put all my chips in. He quickly called whatever I had leftover.
Well, this was a stupid idea, I thought to myself. My basic PLO strategy is to play tight, see flops with strong starting hands for as cheap as possible, and then, when the board hits me hard, bleed Omaha novices who will call down with any half-assed draw, even if it's not to the nuts. But, this time, I instead ended up putting $200+ into a pot preflop to race a madman to the best hand. (Now, admittedly, I knew I was very likely to have the strongest starting hand here. But, remember, this is Omaha, where it's quite rare for a single hand to dominate another preflop.) Why in the world was I gambling like this?
But it was too late for second thoughts. Once the money was in, he flipped over his cards -- a bunch of middle connectors, triple-suited. Flop came A-8-5 rainbow, putting me in the lead with aces but giving his unpaired hand a bunch of outs to the straight. Turn paired the five. River was a jack, leaving my aces up as the best hand. Whew. The $400+ pot was pushed my way, while Patton's girlfriend (who was sitting behind him and was somehow even more drunk than he was) started relentlessly mocking him for losing the hand.
Now in possession of a real stack, I loosened up a bit, hoping to hit a monster against Patton or someone else who couldn't help but to get their money in with any old hand. But I think losing to me only inspired Patton to raise more often, making calling preflop an even more expensive proposition. I gave back over $100 missing flops before deciding to leave the table with an $85 profit only an hour after I originally sat down.
Not what you would call a big score. But it did more than cover my holdem losses for the evening, and it did keep my Omaha streak alive!
It was a crazy, crazy game, with the action driven by a couple of $2/5 regulars who were looking for a table to splash some serious money around. And, as a bonus, one of them was drunk out of his mind. I bought it for $215, which ended up being ridiculously short. This was partially because everyone else had bought in for $400 or more, but the fact that the drunk guy (who looked a bit like comedian Patton Oswalt) would raise the max preflop three out of every five hands didn't help either.
Still, I figured I'd give it a go with the short stack, which meant lots of folding early on as I watched huge stacks of money get pushed around the table. Then, about a half-hour in, I peeked down at A♥-K♦-K♣-10♣ in the small blind with nothing but limpers in front of me. I raised the pot (which brought it up to ~$60), thinking that would likely end the hand, but I apparently misjudged just how much whiskey Patton has consumed that evening. Without even rechecking his cards, he raised the pot again, which essentially committed me preflop. It folded around, and I put all my chips in. He quickly called whatever I had leftover.
Well, this was a stupid idea, I thought to myself. My basic PLO strategy is to play tight, see flops with strong starting hands for as cheap as possible, and then, when the board hits me hard, bleed Omaha novices who will call down with any half-assed draw, even if it's not to the nuts. But, this time, I instead ended up putting $200+ into a pot preflop to race a madman to the best hand. (Now, admittedly, I knew I was very likely to have the strongest starting hand here. But, remember, this is Omaha, where it's quite rare for a single hand to dominate another preflop.) Why in the world was I gambling like this?
But it was too late for second thoughts. Once the money was in, he flipped over his cards -- a bunch of middle connectors, triple-suited. Flop came A-8-5 rainbow, putting me in the lead with aces but giving his unpaired hand a bunch of outs to the straight. Turn paired the five. River was a jack, leaving my aces up as the best hand. Whew. The $400+ pot was pushed my way, while Patton's girlfriend (who was sitting behind him and was somehow even more drunk than he was) started relentlessly mocking him for losing the hand.
Now in possession of a real stack, I loosened up a bit, hoping to hit a monster against Patton or someone else who couldn't help but to get their money in with any old hand. But I think losing to me only inspired Patton to raise more often, making calling preflop an even more expensive proposition. I gave back over $100 missing flops before deciding to leave the table with an $85 profit only an hour after I originally sat down.
Not what you would call a big score. But it did more than cover my holdem losses for the evening, and it did keep my Omaha streak alive!
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
You only see shit like this at Rivers
Hit the Rivers poker room after the Pirates game Monday night. I knew within 10 minutes that the $1/3 NLHE table I sat down at was going to be a tricky one, being that it seated two tight older guys, three probable former Internet players, and one chip-spewing maniac. The maniac drove the action by doing things like raising to $30 preflop and then showing 2-5 off once everyone folded. The rest of the table mostly focused on trapping the maniac, but when the Net kids came at a hand, they came hard. Not a great situation to be in, but the right hand against the maniac could result in an easy double-up, so I figured I'd give it a go. I bought in for $200, planning to leave if I dropped a single buy-in.
I lost $85 the first half-hour just raising and calling with respectable hands and then missing the flop. Then, at about the 40-minute mark, I limped from early position with A♦-6♦. Surprisingly, it limped around, and we went to the flop, which came: 5♣-5♦-4♦. The maniac checked, I bet $20 of my remaining $112 and it folded back around to the maniac, who shoved enough chips out to put me all-in. There was very little to evaluate. This guy could have smashed that flop or he just as easily could have been trying to bully the short-stack with a straight draw or something, so I quickly called his raise. He didn't reveal his cards, so neither did I. Turn came the 4♥; river came the J♠ . No flush, but I knew I still had a legitimate chance to win. I sat still, waiting for him to flip. He's one of those guys and didn't want to immediately show. After it became clear that I wasn't going to show first, he sheepishly rolled over Q♠ -9♣. His flop raise was purely a bullying tactic, as he had no hand and no draw. I happily doubled up by playing my ace as a kicker. And, hilariously, this was the second time I saw him put serious money into a pot and end up losing to ace high. Inside 40 minutes!
Ahhhh, Rivers ... don't ever change.
I lost $85 the first half-hour just raising and calling with respectable hands and then missing the flop. Then, at about the 40-minute mark, I limped from early position with A♦-6♦. Surprisingly, it limped around, and we went to the flop, which came: 5♣-5♦-4♦. The maniac checked, I bet $20 of my remaining $112 and it folded back around to the maniac, who shoved enough chips out to put me all-in. There was very little to evaluate. This guy could have smashed that flop or he just as easily could have been trying to bully the short-stack with a straight draw or something, so I quickly called his raise. He didn't reveal his cards, so neither did I. Turn came the 4♥; river came the J♠ . No flush, but I knew I still had a legitimate chance to win. I sat still, waiting for him to flip. He's one of those guys and didn't want to immediately show. After it became clear that I wasn't going to show first, he sheepishly rolled over Q♠ -9♣. His flop raise was purely a bullying tactic, as he had no hand and no draw. I happily doubled up by playing my ace as a kicker. And, hilariously, this was the second time I saw him put serious money into a pot and end up losing to ace high. Inside 40 minutes!
Ahhhh, Rivers ... don't ever change.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Stacked deck
Otherwise, how could hands like this happen?
Last Saturday night playing $1/3 NLHE at Rivers, I was dealt 10♠-10♣ in the small blind. It folded around to a somewhat tight, very solid player who raised to $12 from mid-position. Nothing but folds around to me, and being out of position, I just called. Big blind folded, so it was just the two of us. I had a little over $200 in front of me, and he had me well covered.
Flop came 10♦-9♠-7♦. Well, hello there, top set. I checked to the raiser, and he bet $25. Deciding to slowplay, I just smooth-called. Turn came the 9♥, giving me second nuts and a stranglehold on the hand. I checked again, hoping to see another bet by my opponent. Unfortunately, he threw on the brakes and checked behind. River was the 3♣, and I put out a $50 bet, hoping he'd call it with an overpair. What a happy surprise when he announced raise and pushed two $100 stacks out into the table.
The exact thought that went through my head was: I can't believe this guy picked now to run a bluff like this. Because, really, what kind of hand could he possible have? Maybe sevens full. Or quad nines, I suppose. But there was no way he'd be raising me here with any sort of overpair or A-10 or something he'd be best served by just calling with.
I, of course, insta-called and rolled over my hand. I swear the guy's eyeballs about popped out of his head. He exhaled sharply, cocked half a smile and let loose a single "wow." Then he flipped his hand: 10♥-9♣. What an improbable, unexpected and, for him, disastrous sequence of events in that hand.
Just to look at it from his perspective: The guy decided to screw around one hand by raising pre with 10-9 off. He flopped top two pair and turned a full house -- the kind of thing you dream about when you raise preflop with junk like that -- yet was completely and unsuspectingly dominated the entire time.
He was a very good sport about it. (The fact that he had about a grand in front of him at the start of the hand likely helped in that regard.) "Wow, I really didn't think you had a hand there," he said. "And then when I saw you push your chips in to call, I thought, 'He must have pocket sevens. This is great!'"
Hard to blame him for thinking that way. There were only two 10s left in the deck. How could they both be in my hand?! But there we were, just two guys slowplaying our monsters, wondering if the other guy had nothing or next to nothing, waiting to drop the hammer.
I must admit, it was nice to have the bigger hammer to drop.
Last Saturday night playing $1/3 NLHE at Rivers, I was dealt 10♠-10♣ in the small blind. It folded around to a somewhat tight, very solid player who raised to $12 from mid-position. Nothing but folds around to me, and being out of position, I just called. Big blind folded, so it was just the two of us. I had a little over $200 in front of me, and he had me well covered.
Flop came 10♦-9♠-7♦. Well, hello there, top set. I checked to the raiser, and he bet $25. Deciding to slowplay, I just smooth-called. Turn came the 9♥, giving me second nuts and a stranglehold on the hand. I checked again, hoping to see another bet by my opponent. Unfortunately, he threw on the brakes and checked behind. River was the 3♣, and I put out a $50 bet, hoping he'd call it with an overpair. What a happy surprise when he announced raise and pushed two $100 stacks out into the table.
The exact thought that went through my head was: I can't believe this guy picked now to run a bluff like this. Because, really, what kind of hand could he possible have? Maybe sevens full. Or quad nines, I suppose. But there was no way he'd be raising me here with any sort of overpair or A-10 or something he'd be best served by just calling with.
I, of course, insta-called and rolled over my hand. I swear the guy's eyeballs about popped out of his head. He exhaled sharply, cocked half a smile and let loose a single "wow." Then he flipped his hand: 10♥-9♣. What an improbable, unexpected and, for him, disastrous sequence of events in that hand.
Just to look at it from his perspective: The guy decided to screw around one hand by raising pre with 10-9 off. He flopped top two pair and turned a full house -- the kind of thing you dream about when you raise preflop with junk like that -- yet was completely and unsuspectingly dominated the entire time.
He was a very good sport about it. (The fact that he had about a grand in front of him at the start of the hand likely helped in that regard.) "Wow, I really didn't think you had a hand there," he said. "And then when I saw you push your chips in to call, I thought, 'He must have pocket sevens. This is great!'"
Hard to blame him for thinking that way. There were only two 10s left in the deck. How could they both be in my hand?! But there we were, just two guys slowplaying our monsters, wondering if the other guy had nothing or next to nothing, waiting to drop the hammer.
I must admit, it was nice to have the bigger hammer to drop.
Thursday, September 8, 2011
A few local room notes
Expect in the near future to start hearing about how big the Bad Beat Jackpot at The Meadows has gotten. Their poker room recently altered the rules for hitting the jackpot, making it so that it only pays when quads (while holding a pair) are beaten by a better hand (either bigger quads or a straight flush). Aces-full hands have been taken out of the equation entirely. It's not difficult to see the rationale behind the change: The Meadows wants to draw more players by advertising a massive Bad Beat number, which will almost surely occur now that the odds of being dealt a Bad Beat hand have sharply decreased.
Meanwhile, Rivers has eliminated some of their single-hand bonuses. Previously, the casino paid bonuses out to quad 10s or better, straight flushes and royal flushes. (The house paid me $126 for making quad kings last year.) However, a dealer there recently told me that all have been eliminated, save for the royal-flush bonus.
Meanwhile, Rivers has eliminated some of their single-hand bonuses. Previously, the casino paid bonuses out to quad 10s or better, straight flushes and royal flushes. (The house paid me $126 for making quad kings last year.) However, a dealer there recently told me that all have been eliminated, save for the royal-flush bonus.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
One call; one fold
Two interesting hands from a recent weeknight $1/3 NLHE session at Rivers ...
On the first one, I raised to $12 from early position with A♦-K♦ and got two callers, a woman about my age who had been running like God and a fairly tight older man. Flop came 6♥-3♠-2♥. Not too terrible of a board, so I C-bet $20.They both called. (Ugh.) Turn came the Q♠, and I checked. They both checked behind. River came the Q♣, and I checked again. The woman bet $40, and the man folded.
I took my time going through the hand in my head. She called my flop bet which probably meant a slowplayed set; a flopped straight; a straight draw; a flush draw; a straight draw or a flush draw plus a pair (something like 3-4); two big overs or A-6. She checked the turn with three players in the hand, something she almost certainly would not do with a made hand, so that eliminated the set and the flopped straight, leaving only the naked draws; the draws plus a pair; two overs or a pair of sixes. (And if one of her overs was a queen, I figured she'd have bet there, too.) Then she bet the river, which I figured eliminated the draws plus a pair and the A-6 because I assumed she'd just want to show those hands down. That left nothing but naked draws that never got there and two big overs. Well, I had the two biggest overs, so I made the hero call with ace high. She shrugged and said, "Just an ace." Then she tabled her A-K. I smirked and flipped my hand for the chop. The table murmurs about my impressive call felt good, but it would have been so much nicer had she been holding A-J.
Just a few hands later, I raised from early position with Q♥-Q♦. Same lady was my only caller. Flop came 10♣-10♠-J♣. Pretty ugly, but I was still certainly going to C-bet an overpair two-handed. I laid out $20, and she called. Turn came the 9♥, making me open-ended. Still, her flop call had me plenty wary and I checked. She bet $40. I made a borderline call here, knowing I was still ahead of A-J, thinking if I made a straight it had a solid chance of being good, and hoping we'd just check down most river cards. River came the 4♣, putting a made flush on the board. I checked; she bet $70. Since I didn't think there was any way she'd still be betting A-J here, there didn't seem to be any hand left I could beat. And considering I had just called her down with ace high, the odds of her trying to bluff me again seemed long. So I folded.
She showed K♣-K♥ before mucking, making me glad I did. I probably lost the minimum. Surprised she didn't three-bet me preflop with pocket kings, but it was almost certainly a good thing. (She was playing loose, so I probably would have just gotten all my money in.) Also happy the river didn't come a king, which would have been ugly as I would have surely check-called whatever she bet.
On the first one, I raised to $12 from early position with A♦-K♦ and got two callers, a woman about my age who had been running like God and a fairly tight older man. Flop came 6♥-3♠-2♥. Not too terrible of a board, so I C-bet $20.They both called. (Ugh.) Turn came the Q♠, and I checked. They both checked behind. River came the Q♣, and I checked again. The woman bet $40, and the man folded.
I took my time going through the hand in my head. She called my flop bet which probably meant a slowplayed set; a flopped straight; a straight draw; a flush draw; a straight draw or a flush draw plus a pair (something like 3-4); two big overs or A-6. She checked the turn with three players in the hand, something she almost certainly would not do with a made hand, so that eliminated the set and the flopped straight, leaving only the naked draws; the draws plus a pair; two overs or a pair of sixes. (And if one of her overs was a queen, I figured she'd have bet there, too.) Then she bet the river, which I figured eliminated the draws plus a pair and the A-6 because I assumed she'd just want to show those hands down. That left nothing but naked draws that never got there and two big overs. Well, I had the two biggest overs, so I made the hero call with ace high. She shrugged and said, "Just an ace." Then she tabled her A-K. I smirked and flipped my hand for the chop. The table murmurs about my impressive call felt good, but it would have been so much nicer had she been holding A-J.
Just a few hands later, I raised from early position with Q♥-Q♦. Same lady was my only caller. Flop came 10♣-10♠-J♣. Pretty ugly, but I was still certainly going to C-bet an overpair two-handed. I laid out $20, and she called. Turn came the 9♥, making me open-ended. Still, her flop call had me plenty wary and I checked. She bet $40. I made a borderline call here, knowing I was still ahead of A-J, thinking if I made a straight it had a solid chance of being good, and hoping we'd just check down most river cards. River came the 4♣, putting a made flush on the board. I checked; she bet $70. Since I didn't think there was any way she'd still be betting A-J here, there didn't seem to be any hand left I could beat. And considering I had just called her down with ace high, the odds of her trying to bluff me again seemed long. So I folded.
She showed K♣-K♥ before mucking, making me glad I did. I probably lost the minimum. Surprised she didn't three-bet me preflop with pocket kings, but it was almost certainly a good thing. (She was playing loose, so I probably would have just gotten all my money in.) Also happy the river didn't come a king, which would have been ugly as I would have surely check-called whatever she bet.
Friday, August 19, 2011
Ahead or behind?
I'm no John Nash or Will Hunting, but I think I have a fairly good grasp on the basic math of poker. I know the percentages for all the typical draws and can usually calculate pot odds and such on the fly at the table. However, I was in a hand during a recent $1/3 NLHE session at The Meadows where I had no idea if I was mathematically ahead or behind once all the money got in and the cards were turned up. Here's how it went down ...
I raised to $13 from under the gun with 9♥-10♥. I got one caller, an aggressive Meadows regular with long, stringy hair who was sitting in the big blind. The flop came K♥-9♠-4♥. The regular only had about $75 back, of which he led out $31. With a flush draw and middle pair, I figured I'd just represent a huge hand and shove (assuming I'd have plenty of outs if I was behind). With any real hand he was pot-committed, though I thought there was some chance he was completely bluffing and would fold. Instead, he said, "Well, I've got a shitload of outs," and put his money in. He then flipped over J♥-Q♥.
So, here's where we were at: My pair of nines were, at the moment, the best hand. He had the better flush draw, but I held two of those outs. Plus, he had an inside straight draw, but I held one of those outs. He also had two overs to my pair, though I had a redraw against that to trips or two pair.
Now, quickly -- without taking the time to count outs -- who do you think was ahead, him or me?
In the short time I had before the dealer ran out the rest of the board, I knew it was close to a race but guessed I was slightly ahead. It just seemed like I held too many of his outs for him to have the advantage. Running it on my poker calculator afterward, I was a little surprised to learn that he was actually a 56 percent favorite. It's less surprising once you have the time to individually count all his outs; he had seven hearts, three 10s, three queens and three jacks. That's 16 outs twice, which is, as he had accurately put it, a shitload of outs. Still, kind of a tricky one, huh?
Okay, so you probably want to know how things turned out. Turn came the 3♣, bumping me up to a 64 percent favorite. Unfortunately, he smashed the J♠ on the river, giving him the bigger pair. Kind of a bummer, but it's hard to complain when the hand with the best chance to win actually does.
I raised to $13 from under the gun with 9♥-10♥. I got one caller, an aggressive Meadows regular with long, stringy hair who was sitting in the big blind. The flop came K♥-9♠-4♥. The regular only had about $75 back, of which he led out $31. With a flush draw and middle pair, I figured I'd just represent a huge hand and shove (assuming I'd have plenty of outs if I was behind). With any real hand he was pot-committed, though I thought there was some chance he was completely bluffing and would fold. Instead, he said, "Well, I've got a shitload of outs," and put his money in. He then flipped over J♥-Q♥.
So, here's where we were at: My pair of nines were, at the moment, the best hand. He had the better flush draw, but I held two of those outs. Plus, he had an inside straight draw, but I held one of those outs. He also had two overs to my pair, though I had a redraw against that to trips or two pair.
Now, quickly -- without taking the time to count outs -- who do you think was ahead, him or me?
In the short time I had before the dealer ran out the rest of the board, I knew it was close to a race but guessed I was slightly ahead. It just seemed like I held too many of his outs for him to have the advantage. Running it on my poker calculator afterward, I was a little surprised to learn that he was actually a 56 percent favorite. It's less surprising once you have the time to individually count all his outs; he had seven hearts, three 10s, three queens and three jacks. That's 16 outs twice, which is, as he had accurately put it, a shitload of outs. Still, kind of a tricky one, huh?
Okay, so you probably want to know how things turned out. Turn came the 3♣, bumping me up to a 64 percent favorite. Unfortunately, he smashed the J♠ on the river, giving him the bigger pair. Kind of a bummer, but it's hard to complain when the hand with the best chance to win actually does.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
"Full house!"
Big laughs at The Meadows last night.* I was seated at a brand new $1/3 NLHE table, and one of the other players was this young, pudgy kid with a bad Caesar haircut. He came to the table with $80 worth of $1 chips and a few $5 chips thrown in. (It looked more like a rack you'd see at a $2/4 limit table.)
The first few hands he played, his actions were super exaggerated. For example, when he made a call, instead of just putting the money in, he'd loudly announced, "I'll see that." It was all very awkward and home-gamey, and it quickly became obvious the kid was out of his element.
About a half-hour in, a flop came A-3-3 on a limped pot. A Meadows regular led out, and Caesar called. Turn came a third three. The regular bet again; the kid called. River came a useless seven, and the regular fired one more time. Caeser snap called and shouted "full house!" in a tenor of voice most proud. He then slammed his pocket twos down on the table. The regular let out a soft chuckle and flipped up the ace the rest of the table knew he had.
Caesar shook his head in disbelief and racked up his few remaining chips. He could be heard mumbling, "Costs too much to play at this table," as he bolted for parts unknown.
* Yes, I'm still playing this infernal game, despite what you may have heard.
The first few hands he played, his actions were super exaggerated. For example, when he made a call, instead of just putting the money in, he'd loudly announced, "I'll see that." It was all very awkward and home-gamey, and it quickly became obvious the kid was out of his element.
About a half-hour in, a flop came A-3-3 on a limped pot. A Meadows regular led out, and Caesar called. Turn came a third three. The regular bet again; the kid called. River came a useless seven, and the regular fired one more time. Caeser snap called and shouted "full house!" in a tenor of voice most proud. He then slammed his pocket twos down on the table. The regular let out a soft chuckle and flipped up the ace the rest of the table knew he had.
Caesar shook his head in disbelief and racked up his few remaining chips. He could be heard mumbling, "Costs too much to play at this table," as he bolted for parts unknown.
* Yes, I'm still playing this infernal game, despite what you may have heard.
Thursday, August 4, 2011
I seriously might be done with this game
Decided to hit Rivers for a short $1/3 NLHE session after the Pirates game last night. I'd avoided doing so recently because I found I was playing way too loose at these "hit and run" sessions, trying too hard to turn a profit before it was time to head home to bed. However, my recent Meadows win gave me a little bit of bankroll breathing room, and I had convinced myself that I was mentally capable of playing tight, boring poker under a clock. If I didn't have any real hands to play in 90 minutes or so then, oh well, I just wouldn't play any hands.
And you know what? I stuck to that quite well. The first 24 minutes of the session, I played four hands total, none past the flop. Won one tiny pot; lost less than $40 on the other three. And then at the 25-minute mark, sitting under the gun, I looked down at two red kings. I raised to $15. Guy on my immediate left called. Then an older guy, who was getting spewy after losing a hand he wasn't happy about, three-bet it to $60. Folded back around to me, and I shoved my stack: $155 total. Guy caught in the middle folded. Spewy, who had me covered, checked his cards and put the money in.
I was fairly certain I was good. The way he had been throwing money around -- he had also three-bet me big just a hand or two earlier (which I folded to) -- meant aces were possible but unlikely. We didn't reveal our cards, and I watched the board come out: A-J-4-A-8. No flushes. I turned my kings over, worrying a little about A-K but also knowing that aces were now severely unlikely and that I was still ahead of most reasonable underpairs. He said, "Huh, you did have me," and then tabled his pocket jacks.
Yeah, no shit I had you.
I felt sick, but I'm certainly not one to pout or make a scene. I wasn't rebuying, so I picked up my card protector and started out of my seat. As he was collecting his pot, he added, "Nice call, though."
There was no malice or snark in his voice; Spewy was just that big of an idiot. I so badly wanted to jump across the table, grab him and scream, "I didn't call you, asshole! You called me, and you did so with a hand that was virtually guaranteed to be well behind! So, hey, well played, moron!"
But instead I kept my mouth shut, kept the peace and walked out. I have enough cash in my bankroll to buy the shiny new Takamine guitar I've been eying, and I'm seriously considering doing just that. After so many years of playing, poker is really starting to wear on me.
And you know what? I stuck to that quite well. The first 24 minutes of the session, I played four hands total, none past the flop. Won one tiny pot; lost less than $40 on the other three. And then at the 25-minute mark, sitting under the gun, I looked down at two red kings. I raised to $15. Guy on my immediate left called. Then an older guy, who was getting spewy after losing a hand he wasn't happy about, three-bet it to $60. Folded back around to me, and I shoved my stack: $155 total. Guy caught in the middle folded. Spewy, who had me covered, checked his cards and put the money in.
I was fairly certain I was good. The way he had been throwing money around -- he had also three-bet me big just a hand or two earlier (which I folded to) -- meant aces were possible but unlikely. We didn't reveal our cards, and I watched the board come out: A-J-4-A-8. No flushes. I turned my kings over, worrying a little about A-K but also knowing that aces were now severely unlikely and that I was still ahead of most reasonable underpairs. He said, "Huh, you did have me," and then tabled his pocket jacks.
Yeah, no shit I had you.
I felt sick, but I'm certainly not one to pout or make a scene. I wasn't rebuying, so I picked up my card protector and started out of my seat. As he was collecting his pot, he added, "Nice call, though."
There was no malice or snark in his voice; Spewy was just that big of an idiot. I so badly wanted to jump across the table, grab him and scream, "I didn't call you, asshole! You called me, and you did so with a hand that was virtually guaranteed to be well behind! So, hey, well played, moron!"
But instead I kept my mouth shut, kept the peace and walked out. I have enough cash in my bankroll to buy the shiny new Takamine guitar I've been eying, and I'm seriously considering doing just that. After so many years of playing, poker is really starting to wear on me.
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