"You're More Internet Famous Than I Am"

This session took place Saturday night, right after I had dinner following the Stratstack tournament (see here).  I decided to play at the Linq, the 1/1 game.  I’ve had success there before and the games are usually fun.

I was seated right away and as I sat down, a player across the table said to me, “Oh I know you…you’re Rob, right?”  I confessed and then tried to figure out who this was.  Young guy, wearing a baseball cap (the proper way).  I totally blanked out.  “Who are you?”  He said, “Dave…I played with you at the Venetian.  Tony and a bunch of your other friends were there.”

I remembered Dave from that Venetian session—a whole bunch of us played there that night with Tony, and we met Dave, who was familiar with Tony’s blog.  I wrote it up as a three-part post, the part with Dave is here.  The problem was, this guy didn’t look anything like the Dave I remembered from that session.  So I asked him to take off his baseball cap.  I’ve found that guys really look different in a cap if you’re not used to seeing them wear one.  I remembered the time I ran into a couple of MGM dealers at the M Resort, back when they had a poker room.  I recognized one right away and said hi.  We were chatting for a few minutes when another player, wearing a baseball cap, said, “Aren’t you gonna say hello to me?”  I looked right at him and drew a complete back. But his voice was familiar and I finally recognized him—from his voice.  Of course, I’d never seen him in a cap before since that isn’t part of the MGM poker dealer uniform.  I was amazed that I didn’t recognize him instantly.  He’d only dealt me around 1,000 hands of poker over the years and we’d always chatted whenever I was at his table.

The point is, it’s amazing how much a hat can do to hide one’s identity.  You know how ridiculous it is that we’re supposed to believe that no one can tell Clark Kent is Superman just because of the glasses, right?  Well, if instead, Clark just always wore a baseball cap, it’d work.

Anyway, I recognized Dave with his hat off, and he was at the table with me most of the night.  He’s still a really nice guy, so spending over a year grinding poker in Vegas hasn’t corrupted him (so far).  We caught up on Tony and some of the other blogging pals he ran into that night.

There was another familiar face at the Linq this night, but it was someone I expected to run into—The Trooper.  I hadn’t seen him until he was ready to push into our game for the first time that night.  I was sitting across from the dealer and so I said, “Hey, I recognize that guy!”  The dealer who was being pushed out looked to see who it was, saw it was Tim and said, “Oh yeah, he’s on the internet.”  I said, “Yeah, he’s like a TV star.”  Another player said, “Oh is he famous? Is he a celebrity?”  I’m pretty sure that player knew exactly who Tim was and was just kidding.  Regardless, I said, “Well…..he’s internet famous.”  Tim looked at me and said, “You’re more internet famous than I am.”  I disagreed and said, “No…the visual is more powerful than the written word, plus it makes you more recognizable.”  He got distracted and we never finished our “argument.”  But yeah, his face, his voice, his Starbucks cup are up on the internet every day.  I can’t compete with that.  But it was fun to even start the discussion…a few years ago, I never would have expected to get into a discussion with someone about which one of us was more famous. 

During one of his downs, something happened that reminded me of a recent post of mine about poker rules.  I don’t remember what the incident that triggered it was, but Tim made some sort of comment about how he was or wasn’t going to enforce a rule.  It reminded me of the post here about the string bet, and whether or not it is the dealer’s or the player’s responsibility to call out a string bet. I explained the situation in the post, and asked him if he, as the dealer, would call out the string bet.

I was surprised that he said he would not.  He felt that that was between the players, and that the dealer should not get involved.  Basically, he took the exact same position that the Player’s Casino in Ventura takes. It’s a player’s game, not a dealer’s game and he doesn’t want to be part of the game. It’s the player’s responsibility to call it or not.  Then he added that this was for a cash game.  He said a tournament was different, because every single player in the tournament–even ones at different tables—has an interest in the game, and every action affects every player in the tournament. 

I didn’t argue with him.  But in thinking it over later, I still don’t agree.  A rule should be enforced if it is reasonable to do so—otherwise, why have rules?  Furthermore, I could make his same argument about a cash game.  Who wins a pot in a cash game—and how much they win—does affect the other players in the game.  All other things being equal, I want the bad player to win that pot, not the grinder.  If the grinder is angle shooting (by manipulating the string bet rules if the dealer doesn’t call him out) and gets some fish’s chips, that makes it a lot harder to get those chips myself than if the fish had them. 

Early on, I had pocket Queens.  The guy in front of me raised to $2 (remember, both blinds are $1). I wouldn’t say that’s a common raise, but you do see it from time to time in this game.  I made it $10 and three of us saw the flop, which was Ace-Queen-4.  I bet $10 and they both called. I don’t remember what I was thinking to have bet so small and my notes don’t tell me. I bet $20 on the turn, a Jack and had one caller.  A King on the river made me a bit ill.  I checked as did my opponent.  He had Ace-Jack and my set was good.

King-10 of hearts, I raised to $7 and had three callers.  The flop was Jack-10-2 and a guy donked out $15. I called and we were heads up.  A King hit the turn and I called $25.  Blank on the river and he bet $45 and I called.  But he had King-Jack and was ahead the whole way.  

In the big blind, I had Ace-9 off and no one raised.  Just a few of us saw a flop of Ace-Queen-Jack.  I bet $3.  I check the turn, an 8, and he bet $15, which I called.  A blank on the river, I checked and called his $25 bet.  He had flopped Broadway with King-10.

That took me down to $12 (I had bought in for $100) and I added $90.  I did that rather than $100 just to get rid of all the smaller bills from my wallet.

I went back to (or stayed, depending on how you look at it) card dead.   Went a long time without really playing a hand.

In the small blind I had 6-4 offsuit and no one raised (remember, in this game, if there’s no raise, the small blind doesn’t have to add anything to stay in, since it’s the same as the big blind).  The flop was 7-5-3 which was pretty nice.  It was rainbow so I decided to check.  The button put out $5 and I just called.  The turn was a 10 and I checked again and this time he bet $10. I check-raised to $25. He called.  The river was an Ace, I bet $35 and he shoved.  I snapped and he showed a set of 7’s.  He had me covered, so it was a nice double up. I had around $90 when the hand started.

I had pocket Aces and raised to 10, it was three-ways.  The flop was Jack-high, two diamonds.  I did have the Ace of diamonds.  I c-bet $30 and a tough player check raised to $65.  I called, we were heads up. A black card hit the turn, ending my dreams of a back-door flush.  This time he led out for $110.  I folded.  Good fold?  I dunno.  The player said, “I played a bad hand and got lucky.”  I dunno, sure smelled like he had better than a pair of Jacks.

I called $5 on the button with Queen-Jack off.  It was four of us seeing a Queen high flop.  It checked through.  On a blank turn, I bet $10 and it was down to three.  On a King river, I bet $20 and didn’t get a call.

I had Aces again and raised to 8, it was three-ways.  The flop was King-7-7.  I bet $20 and had one caller.  It was the guy who bet me off my Aces earlier.  The turn was a Queen, the river was a King and there was no betting.  The other guy showed 10-7 offsuit.  Apparently this guy was an expert at cracking Aces with bad hands.

When Dave left, he came over to me and whispered, “I’m gonna be checking your blog to see if this night is written about.  I’m hoping there will be a good ending.”

Sorry, Dave, can’t do it.  I didn’t have a noteworthy hand after he left, and took off not much later, another losing session for this trip.  Got a few hands, but still mostly card-dead, and couldn’t get Aces to hold either time.

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All Noon Poker Tournaments Should Serve Free Pizza

Let’s get back to the highlights, which were actually lowlights, of my March Madness trip to Vegas.  The trip was only a week, so just one weekend, the first weekend of March Madness.  It’s actually been awhile since a Vegas visit for me didn’t include at least two weekends.  And generally I only play tournaments on the weekends.

Now as you must have come to realize by now, I have a love/hate relationship with poker tournaments.  They do tend drive me crazy.  I always gripe about the payouts, and they are increasingly inconvenient for me to play.  There are plenty of reasons for me to stop playing them altogether.

And yet….well, here’s the thing.  I’ve become increasingly convinced over time that I am actually a much better tournament player than I am a cash player.  And of course, the best way to get a nice score moneywise is to run really deep in a tournament.  You just have to accept the wider variance.  But I’ve been running deep in tournament after tournament lately, and cashing in my share too.

As an aside, I’ve taken a serious look recently at the tournaments in the L.A. area rooms that are available to me. And you know what?  As a general rule, they tend to suck.  I don’t want to call out any rooms by name (at this point, I have too high a profile in the poker community to be comfortable doing that), so you’ll just have to take my word for it.  The tournaments here that are in anyway comparable (time and/or buy-in wise) to the Aria & Binion’s tournaments I like seem to have pretty bad structures.  And the timing of them (and lack of meal breaks) make them even less attractive to me.

So basically, if I am to going to continue to pursue tournament poker, Vegas it is. 

Anticipating the trip, I was trying to figure out how to play in a Saturday tournament under the new arrangement.  As I mentioned in the post here, Binion’s moved the start time of its big Saturday tournament to 1PM, which is much less convenient for me.  And Aria now starts both its Friday and Saturday tournaments at 11AM, with neither a lunch or a dinner break.  And that post explains why I find that objectionable.  I’m just not ready to try to figure out a way to play a 8-10 hour tournament without meal breaks that starts that friggin’ early.

I thought I had the answer.  Instead of playing Aria on Saturday, I’d just play it on Sunday.  The Sunday tournament, at least for now, is still at 1PM and is still $125 (Friday & Saturday it’s $240 but the buy-in doesn’t bother me).  That seemed like a pretty good solution.

But then, not too far in advance of my trip, I received word (as part of my job) that Aria was going to have a special series of tournaments for the first weekend of the basketball tournament.  Thursday through Sunday, the 7PM tournaments were all cancelled and the daytime tournament would be $355 and start at 10AM.

Yeah, 10AM.  Well, if I don’t like an 11AM start, you can imagine how I feel about a 10AM start.  Especially with no meal breaks.  Totally out of the question.

Another aside.  Without getting any official explanation, I knew instantly why Aria was doing this.  For this weekend, they would be packed.  They could easily fill all their tables just with cash games. They were purposely trying to limit the number of tournament tables they needed so they could spread more cash games.  The early start time helped too.  They would only need a few tournament tables by late afternoon when the waiting lists for the cash games figured to be huge. 

I briefly considered Binion’s at 1PM on Saturday.  But 1PM downtown is tough.  And also, I was concerned I wouldn’t like my parking options downtown on such a busy weekend for the city (I won’t go into detail on that).  So I decide to pass on that.

I was trying to come up with a plan C or D when I heard from Mark over at the Stratosphere.  At sort of the last minute, he was able to schedule a “Stratstack” tournament for that Saturday. I wrote about playing one previously here.  It’s a pretty nice $110 tournament and it figured to get a decent turnout on this particular weekend.  It was an excellent bit of luck (finally!) for me.

Now the tournament starts at Noon and yes, you’re right, that’s earlier than I’d like.  But here’s the really nice thing about the Stratstack.  At the first break, the serve free pizza.  In other words, instead of rushing through a too-early lunch at my temporary residence, I could just have my (free) lunch at around 2PM, a more normal time. What if I busted out before the first break?  Well you can bet I would have hung around to get my free pizza.  After all, I would have paid $110 for it.

The free pizza is such a great idea for tournaments that start early. I wish more rooms would do it. To be sure, it’s not the greatest pizza in the world, but I’ve had plenty that’s way worse and it provides enough fuel to keep a poker player going until dinner.

For $110 you get a $20K starting stack and 30-minute levels.  They ended up with 68 players for a $5,440 prize pool.  First place was $2,067.  Second place was $925, third was $598.  Does that sound right?  How is second place less than half of first?  Another payscale for me to complain about.  They were paying 8 with the dreaded min cash being a mere $218.  Gee, they couldn’t have made it $220 for an even money payback?  Or better, $225 so you could tip $5 and still get double your investment back?  I guess I’m asking too much.

Of course, that’s pretty much my complaint with every tournament I play.  Hence the love/hate relationship.

This was my third day in town and my third consecutive day of being card-dead.  I was actually so very card dead that I was able to last a long time just because I wasn’t losing chips very fast, so few hands did I play.  That is not the preferred way to make a deep run in a tournament of course.

Spoiler alert—I didn’t cash.  I had so little to play that for the first five levels I jotted down about three hands.  I won the very first pot from the small blind with King-4 off on a board of K-3-3.  I did get pocket Queens, raised, had one caller, and took the pot with a c-bet. In the small blind it folded to me with Ace-Jack, I raised and the big blind folded.  I checked from the big blind with Queen-8 vs. the small blind and caught a straight on a four-flush board.  But my straight held.

So, those few small pots, combined with not getting decent enough cards to lose chips with, actually had me ahead of the starting stack  I started level 6 with $24,400 (blinds were 50/500/1000).  And then finally, I awoke from my slumber and actually got a few hands to play in rapid succession.  I was actually unable to keep up with my notes so I may have some of the details wrong.

I opened to $2,700 with Jack-9 of clubs, no call.

In the cut-off, I opened to $2,700 with Jack-10 off.  The big blind called “raise” and put out $5K.  The dealer told him he had to make it $5,400.  The player protested, but the dealer said no, he had to double my bet.  It was only another $400 so he put it out.

Of course, the dealer was wrong.  This was preflop, so my raise had been $1,700.  The min raise was another $1,700, he could have bet as little $4,400. I almost protested myself, I would have preferred $5k to $5,400.  But I didn’t want to advertise the weakness of my hand so I let it go.  I couldn’t fold for such a small amount (especially since I’d have position) so I called and we were heads up.

The flop was King-Jack-10, rainbow.  He checked I bet $7K.  He shoved.  I called and was thus all in.  He showed two Queens and didn’t improve.  That brought my stack to $49,450.

I limped in with pocket deuces but folded to a big raise.

Now at level 7 (100/800/1600), In the big blind I had Ace-Queen off.  The button and the small blind limped in.  I added $7K to my blind.  The button folded, the small blind called for less and showed Queen-10.  I caught an Ace and took it.

After one limper, I made it $8k from the button with King-10 of hearts.  It folded back to the limper who shoved.  It was only $17K total and I couldn’t see folding. He had pocket 6’s.  I flopped a flush draw.  He turned a set.  I missed the river.  That hurt.

That took me down to $38,700 by the time I could count my stack again.

I limped/called $4K with pocket 3’s and missed, folded.

After a limper I raised to $8k with pocket Queens, no call.

Under the gun I opened to $5500 with King-Queen off and didn’t get a call.

On the button, after two limpers I made it $9K with pocket Aces.  Both limpers called.  The flop was all spades and I didn’t have the Ace of spades.  The first player checked, the second to act shoved, for about $17K.  I knew this guy. I recognized him as an MGM reg.  I’ve played with numerous times before, and he’s a major nit.  Seriously, he sits there in the cash game and plays fewer hands than I do.  So I was sure there was no way he would make that move without a very big hand.  There was just no chance my Aces were any good.  I reluctantly folded.  The other guy tanked for a bit and then called.  The MGM reg that I had pegged as a total nit showed Queen-8 off, no spades.  He had nothing.  Zilch, nada.  It was a total bluff. You could have knocked me over with a feather. The other guy had King-Queen, the Queen was a spade.  I couldn’t believe I had folded the best hand.  No, the flush didn’t hit.  Instead, the MGM reg (just a cash game nit, not a tournament nit, apparently) went runner-runner for a straight using the 8.  Unbelievable. I made a bad play but it turned out to be the right (results-oriented thinking). 

In the big blind I called a short stack’s shove with Ace-King off.  He had Jack-8 of spades.  There was both an Ace and a Jack on the flop.  Nothing else came.  He was done for the day.

I think that was level 8 and I failed to make note of the change.  There was actually a level there that there were relatively few hands dealt.  First, our table broke.  We actually were down to two tables when I moved.  Then, at the new table, there were two huge stacks all in against each other.  When the hand was decided, it appeared that the loser had the smaller stack, but there was no way to be sure without counting both stacks.  And the dealer had a bit of a problem doing that, she had to start over.  It took a lot of time to confirm that the loser was busto, but he was and we finally got to play another hand.

So we were now at level 9 (300/1500/3000) and I was down to $26K.  In other words, desperate I open shoved with King-Queen and the big blind called.  He had King-Queen too for the chopped pot.  He said he only called because he was the blind.

I was under $20K and my shoving range was wide.  The big stack at the table limped into a pot. He was the guy who had one won that monster pot that took so long to count.  Since then, he had entered a lot of pots preflop, sometimes raising, sometimes limping. It folded to me and I was only a few hands away from being the blind.  I had Ace-2 of hearts and decided to shove.  I figured the big stack had a low-medium pair or big cards but not an Ace.  I was sure he would have raised with an Ace.  In hindsight, I’m not sure if my logic was solid.  I think with his stack, compared to mine, if it folded back to him and he would have called even with just a pair of threes.  And with any pair he had, it would have been worse than a coin flip for me.  So I guess my shove was a mistake.

I was very surprised when he flipped over Ace-Jack.  At that point in the tournament, and with his stack, how the hell could he not have raised with Ace-Jack?  Seemed very strange.  The Ace on the flop didn’t change anything, but the Jack on the turn left me drawing dead.  And I was done.

I had played about 5 hours and I busted something like 17th or 18th.  No money to show for it.  But I had a long run and actually had a brief period where I was getting cards to play.  It gave me hope that things were getting better.

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Easing into a Recovery

As you know, I’m in the midst of documenting the rather disappointing results of my recent Vegas excursion.  Poker wise, it was a total disaster.  Actually, pretty much every which way it was a disaster.  I caught a cold, had a few other minor physical ailments, became totally disenchanted with the city of Vegas itself, and honestly, was very happy to be returning home.  That’s not my usual attitude when I depart from Vegas.

I drove home on a Thursday and gathered up all the strength I could muster to get some work done on Friday.  But on the weekend, I knew I needed to just completely shut down and try to recover physically.  I barely left the couch either Saturday or Sunday.  All the medical issues could probably be considered minor individually, but hitting me all at once made it seem very, very major.

A visit to see two doctors Monday morning put me on the slow road to recovery for one of the conditions.  I kind of disobeyed doctor’s orders to get back to work the rest of the week. And it was double time.  I had to take a couple of evenings knocking out my next column for Ante Up.  Wouldn’t you know it, that column was probably the most difficult and time-consuming I’ve ever written.  You’ll see it in a few weeks, but it was a preview of most (but not all) of the summer tournament series that will be held in Vegas. Just a lot more work than my normal column (I’ll explain when I run it). 

That was the last three evenings of that week, and then on Saturday, did I take some time for myself to aid my recovery (everything was still bothering me, to some degree)?  No.  I had to spend the entire day working on my taxes.  Trust me, that wasn’t nearly as much fun as it sounds.

Now I should have taken Sunday to recover from everything (including doing my taxes) but did I?  Nope.  I wanted to get you, my dear readers, a fresh new blog post.  So I spent Sunday with my nose to the grindstone whipping up the post you can find here.

By the time the following weekend rolled around (which was this past weekend), I was actually feeling reasonably well.  And I was sick and tired of being sick and tired.  I had been cooped up at home too long, I needed to get out.  My friends were all busy, so the best option was to head to the local poker emporium and see if I could remain card dead for the rest of my life. I definitely had some trepidation about getting back on the horse, but I knew I was going to do it eventually.  So why not now?

Well the answer to that question was, “the weather.”  A rather freakish early April storm had descended upon California and I had to decide if I felt like getting out and driving in the rain (especially having just barely gotten over my cold).  But I decided I just had to get out, I would have gone nuts if I stayed in one more day.

The Google Maps program is a god-send.  Using it, I avoided my usual route and a lot of traffic, and instead it gave me a relatively smooth sailing alternate route.  I didn’t avoid the rain, but at least the back roads it directed me to weren’t flooded and I arrived at PC Ventura in almost the same amount of time as the normal route would have taken me without traffic.

My goal for this session was just to get my feet back under me.  Sure, having a huge win would have been great, but that seemed too much to even try for.  I was looking to recover, mentally, from the beating I took in Vegas.  It wasn’t even so much as leaving with a profit as much as sitting at a table and seeing if I could get some good cards once in awhile.  Of course, booking a win sure would have been nice.  But if I could get some cards finally, and spend a few hours not looking at the four walls of my living room, that would be considered a success.

I knew I would be extremely gun-shy this session, but I was just hoping to find something to start rebuilding my confidence with.  I suppose that sounds a little odd considering I don’t really blame bad play on my results in Vegas.  As I keep saying, I basically went an entire week without getting cards.  I didn’t know that I could have done much differently.  But when you go that long without getting hands to play, it just wears on you, every bit as much as if you are playing bad.  At least bad play is, in theory, fixable.  Bad cards….well, that’s just a waiting game, right?

There were actually a couple of changes waiting for me at the PC.  One, they had brand new poker chips.  The dollar chips were still light blue, but the $5 dollar chips were no longer light green.  No, they didn’t make them red.  They were yellow.  But you know, the $5 chips at the Bike are also yellow, so maybe that’s an L.A.-thing.  The good news though, aside from the chips being all shiny and new and clean, is that you can now very easily tell them apart.  From a distance, the blue and green ones were too similar looking.

The other change was that they no longer offer Diet Dr. Pepper.  Disappointing, but that was always a unique perk at this place.  Have to settle for Diet Coke there now, like pretty much everywhere else.

I was able to get seated in a 1/2 game right away. I had only been there for about three or four hands when I looked down at a couple of Aces.  Aha, I thought, I’ve broken the spell.  I raised, had one caller, and took it down with a c-bet on a Queen-high board.  It actually occurred to me that I could quit right there and book a win, albeit a very, very small one.  Still, booking a win would be a great help psychologically, right?  I think I might have actually considered it if it wasn’t pouring rain outside.  I’m kidding of course.  I think.

There were big stacks at the table but the action didn’t seem particularly aggro and the raises weren’t especially large.  Thus, I thought it might be good to try one thing that I don’t usually do.  Back in Vegas, I had seen my buddy Don limp in late position or even call raises on the button with pretty questionable hands, like low, offsuit connectors.  One time he stacked a guy with Aces (and also took my small stack, but then, I only had pocket Kings) by calling with something like 6-5 offsuit.  Don’t quote me on that, I haven’t played back my tape.  Anyway, he hit a straight I think and put the guy who had Aces on tilt (and won a big pot).  We were talking about it and he’s trying things like that now, and is being encouraged to do so by his unofficial poker coach.

I guess that’s why, after a few limpers, I limped in from the button with 7-5 diamonds. In position, I suppose you could also consider raising, but unless you take it down there, you are playing a big pot with a pretty lousy hand.  The idea is to try to hit something with a minimal investment. It’s easy to fold unless you flop a monster (or a monster draw). I hit something….I flopped both a straight and a flush draw.  I called $5 and then $5 on the turn when I actually hit my flush on the turn.  That’s the downside of playing this way….you’re kind of afraid of bigger flush when you do make the hand, that’s why I only called.  A fourth diamond hit the river and no one bet, I was really afraid of the bigger flush.  But the only other flush was a guy with the 6 of diamonds and I took the pot.

I limped in with Ace-8 of clubs.  A guy shoved his last $15.  A lady with a big stack called, so I took a shot and called.  The flop was 4-3-3, one club.  No one bet.  The turn was a blank, still no bet.  No bet on the river, an 8.  Everyone had suited Aces.  The 8 on the river gave me the only pair and I took the pot.

I called $6 from late position with King-Jack of spades.  It was three-way.  Two spades on the flop and I called $6, still three ways.  Another spade on the turn, this time the preflop raiser checked, I bet $20 and only the preflop raiser called.  Another spade hit the river. I checked behind, wary of the naked Ace of spades.  But all he had was pocket Queens.  I was up more than a few bucks and it felt good to actually be catching some cards and being up, even if it wasn’t a lot of money.

I limped in from late position with Queen-10 of spades, it was five-ways.  Two spades on the flop, no one bet.  I caught the flush on the turn and called $5, we were heads up. Yeah, I was worried about a bigger flush.  She checked the blank river and I did as well.  But she didn’t have a flush, she actually had turned a straight.  I tried to be mad at myself for playing so wimpy, but I couldn’t really be upset; it was just so refreshing to be taking down pots, even if they weren’t exactly making me rich.

I limped in with Ace-2 of hearts from late position. At least five of us saw a flop of Jack-5-4.  The two low cards were hearts, giving me not only the flush draw but a gutshot to the steel wheel.  Perhaps in a different mental state, I would have played the draw more aggressively.  But I just called the $15 bet made by the youngest guy at the table (was wearing a backwards baseball cap too).  He checked a blank turn and so did I.  The river was an Ace, so I called his $10 bet.  But he had flopped a set of 5’s.

On the button I limped in with 5-4 offsuit. Then called $5 when one of the blinds raised—it was five way. The flop was 3-2-2.  I called $6, still multi-way.  A blank on the turn and I called another $6. The Ace of spades on the river gave me the wheel but also put three spades out there.  I just called the $10 bet.  She had just an Ace, and I took down the pot.

An orbit later, with the same dealer, I limped in with 5-4 off again. Five-way This time the flop came 3-3-2.  I called $6 and it was just the two of us.  This turn the turn gave me the wheel when an Ace hit.  I called her $15 bet. Yeah, I was a bit afraid of a full house.  We checked down a blank river.  She just had an Ace.  The dealer remembered the earlier hand where my 5-4 had also made a wheel and commented that 5-4 was good for me.  I owe those pots to my buddy Don.

But yeah, you can see I’m not getting value for hitting these hands.  The other thing you will note is that the betting at this table was pretty timid.  I should have been taking down much bigger pots for the hands I was catching.  I know that.  But….I couldn’t be upset.  After what I’d gone thru in Vegas, it was feeling real good to be taking down these pots, as I said.  It was…well…kind of therapeutic.  

Finally got the dreaded pocket Kings.  Two players had limped in ahead of me, so I made it $11.  No one called.  Winning with pocket Kings?  This was my lucky day!

I limped in with pocket 3’s and it was seven-ways.  The flop had two hearts on it, one of which was a 3.  A lady bet $5, another called and so I raised to $20.  Too much?  No one called.

I raised to $7 under-the-gun with Ace-King off.  Only one call.  The flop was Ace-high, I bet $12, he called.  Blank on the turn, I checked, he bet $20, I called.  Blank on the river, we both checked.  He had Ace-King.  Only the house made any money on that one.

I was now up over $90.  And it felt good, real good.  The rain had stopped for the moment and I was thinking of leaving.  I really would have liked to somehow gotten that profit over $100 so I could book the double-up, but I knew I would have been rather upset if I ended up losing the profit chasing that.  I decided I was on my last orbit.  I was thisclose to booking that win.

Under the gun plus one (or maybe plus two), I looked down at pocket 9’s.  This was my second or third to last hand, for sure.  So I just limped in.  Then a guy made it $10.  Two players called in front of me (the blinds), as did I.  The flop came 9-8-5, two hearts.  It checked to me.  I figured the flop probably didn’t hit anyone but had some draws out there. I couldn’t count on the preflop raiser making a c-bet so I bet $30.  The preflop raiser announced all in for $53.  Really?  The two ladies both took their time before they folded.  Of course I snap called.  I really thought I was ahead.  I figured he was trying to protect his overpair from the draws.  Or maybe he had the flush draw himself.  I couldn’t put him on 7-6, he had given no indication he was a player who would raise with a hand like that.  We didn’t show.

Still, I sure wouldn’t have minded the board pairing.  But it did not.  There were no more hearts, just a black Queen, followed by a black Jack.  Shit, he didn’t have a 10, did he?  Nah, I was still absolutely convinced I had the best hand when I turned over cards.  The dealer announced my set of 9’s.

The guy stared at the board for a few seconds….maybe more than a few.  The delay convinced me even more that I was taking down a nice pot.  And then he said, “I have a straight,” and showed 7-6 of diamonds.  WTF?  I was disappointed before I was pissed.  I counted out the chips I owed him.  At least he was short stacked and I still had a bit of profit left.  But I sure as hell didn’t like the slow roll.  What was that all about?  He surely knew he had flopped the straight.  And the dealer loudly and clearly called out my set of 9’s.  I sure didn’t appreciate that, but I said nothing.

I played one more hand and then called it a day.  I ended up $30 ahead.  I tried to focus on finally being able to book a much need win—much need for my psyche.  But I know I left money at the table and I was annoyed by the last hand.  But that’s poker, right?  You flop a set and someone makes a straight. At least I had a hand good enough to be coolered with.

I resolved though to try real hard to be happy with the win, however small it was.  It was an important part of my recovery process.  The next win will be bigger.

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Flamingo!

This is the follow up (and conclusion) to my last post (see here). We pick up where we left on the first night of my trip, the first night of March Madness, and the only night (for 2016) of St. Patrick’s Day.  The guy who had gone on the heater took off with a tidy profit. He was replaced by a German tourist, maybe late-20’s, early 30’s.  And this guy was one of the most entertaining, fun players I’ve ever encountered at a poker table. A really nice guy.

When he came to the table, the folks had started lining up for the club, and the girls were starting to pass by our table.  I never caught the German fellow’s name so let’s call him Dirk (as in German basketball great Dirk Nowitzki, since there was basketball on screens all around us). 

Dirk came to the table talking about wanting to get into the club. Two things were stopping him, however.  One, his buddy was not wearing acceptable shoes for the club.  And two, he was balking at the $75 admission charge.  I pointed out to him that girls generally got in free.  “That’s not fair,” he protested.  Indeed, it is not.  But I understand those tiny dresses that consist of very little fabric are fairly expensive. Plus they have to spend money on hair and make-up and shoes and under-garments.  Though I think a lot of them may save money on under-garments. Anyway, I guess they pay for admittance in a different way.  So he joked about hoping to win enough money to cover the cost of getting into the club. 

His aforementioned buddy eventually joined him at the table, but unlike Dirk, he was very quiet.  Barely said a word.  I suppose there might have been a language issue, but I doubt it.  Most Germans I’ve encountered in Vegas speak English very well, as did Dirk.  

Most of the other players at the table (except for yours truly, of course) were of a similar age to Dirk and his pal.  They were suggesting to him that he just wait a few hours and then hang out at the club’s exits to try to pick up the girls as they left the club in their inebriated state.  He said, “You mean like at 2AM?”  No, he was told, more like 4AM, the girls leaving then would be drunker—and easier to pick up then. As in, “off the floor.”

Dirk liked to talk about his homeland, and told us all sorts of fascinating things about Germany.  He said that live poker there was difficult; there was a huge tax on it.  It was much better for him to drive to Austria to play.

He complained about Germany’s drug laws.  Apparently not only is marijuana illegal, but the penalty for possession is quite severe.  He claimed that someone he knew was sentenced to 15 years for possession of a small amount.  He compared that to another person he knew of who was sentenced to 2-1/2 years for rape. 

One thing that we found interesting was that prostitution is completely legal in Germany.  It’s a legitimate profession and the girls pay taxes just like any other profession.  Apparently most of the prostitutes come from Romania.  It seems the going rate is $30.  He said, “For a $100 you can have a great time with a hot Romanian girl.”  I assume the $70 extra includes drinks and dinner?

So I said, “So you can have sex with a prostitute in Germany—you just can’t smoke a joint with her.”  That got a good laugh.

Dirk talked about a lot of topics and couldn’t help commenting on the current American political scene.  I was a little nervous about where that might be headed—you know how I feel about discussing politics at the poker table (see here).  But he kept it light and it was kind of interesting to hear an outsider’s perspective.  He expressed bewilderment with Donald Trump and I mentioned that the German Chancellor (Angela Merkel) had voiced some criticisms of Trump.  He acknowledged that and went in a brief riff on German politics.  Then he said, “And Hillary…well, the only thing we really know about her is what her husband did in the White House with cigars.”  He realized he was treading on thin ice though and changed the subject.

Now, Dirk was extremely talkative and usually guys who can’t shut up wear on me and tend to be boring. But not Dirk. I swear he didn’t say one thing that I didn’t find interesting.  I have to admit, I loved the guy.  Just an interesting, quality person, a pleasure to play poker with.

As I mentioned, the club attendees had started arriving and were walking right by our table to and from the club.  And as I said, this was an especially good night to enjoy the scenery the young girls going to the club were providing.  It was a very busy night, and a very high percentage of the ladies were hot, or very hot, or smoking hot.  You know that the girls are mostly wearing outfits that are barely legal in Las Vegas, and would probably get them arrested in, say, Butte, Montana.  Sadly, you can’t really appreciate the enjoyment the ladies were providing us with a written description, so you’ll just have to use your imagination—even though the outfits they were wearing left little to the imagination.

By this time, there were only guys at the table.  And the folks who were in the bad viewing seats were starting to complain about missing out on the “show” and being stuck in bad seats to view the ladies. Recall that I had long since procured the best seat in the house to enjoy the parade.  So, the lads worked out a plan.  The guys facing one way would alert the guys facing the wrong way to turn around whenever a hot girl (or, more likely, a group of hot girls) passed by.  And if the girls were walking the other way, the guys on the other side of the table would do the same.

And one of the guys suggested that they use a code word to get everyone’s attention.  Something innocuous, something inoffensive. Because it would just be rude to yell out, “Holy shit, look at those tits!” or, “Jesus, check out that ass!”  So someone suggested that as soon as anyone saw anyone noteworthy, he yell out, “Flamingo!”  I have no idea where he got that idea, but it actually worked pretty well.  It might have been weird, however, if we were in the Flamingo poker room instead of the MGM.

At this point, the evening almost could not have been more fun for me.  Great conversation, great scenery, someone yelling “Flamingo” every few minutes, it was a total blast.

Well, there was just one thing that could have made it more fun, I guess.  It sure would have been nice to have won a few pots.  Actually, it just would have been nice to get a few hands to play.  But I continued to be card dead.  Without any major disaster hands (because to have had one would have implied that I actually was given a hand to play), I had managed to lose an indecent amount of money.  When I got down to about $70 or so, I added $100, but I kept dripping down over the course of the 4-1/2 session.  As I got back down to $70 or so, I made a decision.  I was not going to add any more chips.  I figured a $300 loss for my first session of the trip would be enough.  It was getting late, and I could really enjoy viewing the ladies from other places in the casino aside from the poker room.  So I was sorely tempted to just pick up the remaining chips I had, cash them in, and just people-watch for the rest of the night.

But….but….the truth was, the table was too much fun.  I was just having too good a time at the game (just not from poker).  And seriously, I was sitting in one of the best viewing places in the entire casino.  And I wasn’t really distracted from the view by the poker—after all, it took just a second or two to check my hand and throw away that 10-3 or 9-2.  And if I did miss something, my new found friends were there with a “Flamingo!” to get me to look up.

There was one other reason that I was less eager to leave the poker than I might otherwise have been.  I was pretty sure that this session would be my only one at MGM for this trip, and I wanted to see as many of my dealer pals as possible. 

So I decided to milk the rest of my chips for all they were worth.  If I got a hand to push with, fine, I’d be ready to get it all in.  But, as I said, I was unwilling to add to my stack so I was going to short-stack it til the end.  It wasn’t really a poker decision, it was an “I’m having too much fun” decision.

So my stack continued to dwindle.  Since I was card dead, I was just blinded down.  Oh, I may have had a low pocket pair or two that bled some chips, but I never really got a hand worth pushing with, not really even close.  Well, eventually I must have.  I didn’t write it down, but I think I found a hand to shove with, and was called by a shorter stack—who won the pot.  That left me with exactly $19.  And I was still committed to not pulling another dollar out of my wallet.

So yeah, there I was sitting behind $19.  At that point, your shoving range is pretty wide.  And fortunately, before another hand or two, I found my hand. Under-the-gun, I looked down at Ace-Queen offsuit.  I shoved.  Dirk’s pal called, as did one other player.  And then Dirk announced all in.  He had $400 and was clearly trying to get the two other guys—including his pal—out of the pot.  Dirk’s buddy folded, but the other player called. He had about $150 I think.

The flop was worthless, but there was an Ace on the turn, and a blank on the river.  Dirk had pocket Kings to beat the other guy’s pocket Jacks and grab a nice side pot.  Dirk’s pal said he folded pocket Queens.  Pretty interesting hand.  Kings, Queens and Jacks all out there. But my lousy Ace-Queen was good enough to claim the main pot.  That gave me a nice quadruple up, and I was back in business, almost a real stack to play with. I had $68.

And that lasted just a few more hands, until Brillo Head took me down (see here).   And now you know why I was so upset at Brillo Head’s lame call that busted from the game.  It wasn’t because of the money I lost.  He got me out of one of the most fun tables I’d been at in quite some time. 

All I could do the rest of the night was enjoy the view provided by the young ladies going to the nightclub on St. Patrick’s Day.  And I guess that wasn’t so bad.

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Turning Poker Into a Table Game

Note:  This is going to be a two-parter. It’s not that it’s such a long post (I don’t think), it’s just that I’ve run out of time to write the rest of it.  Not sure if the second part will be as long as this—it might be a lot shorter.  But I want to have something for you today.

You already know how this session ended.  I told you about the last hand here. (Hmm, so maybe this is really a three-parter, huh?)  In that post, I promised to fill you on the rest of the session, so here we go.

It was my first nite in town, and it was not only the first real night of March Madness, it was also St. Patrick’s Day.  So Vegas was a-humming. I headed over to the MGM for some poker.  And yes, the thought that it was a Slut Paradenight did enter my mind. I was there early but I certainly planned on trying to get a prime viewing seat for the St. Patty’s/March Madness version of the parade.

And lucky me, I was sent to one of the tables in the front. I got the wrong seat to start.  Not to worry though.  It wasn’t too long before I was able to change to the best seat in the house, well before the club goers started showing up en masse.

Of course, there’s a price for everything. For much of the evening, there was a massive guy directly behind, playing in the tournament.  This guy was huge.  He wasn’t just fat, he was wide.  He was built like a linebacker.  Or maybe an entire front four.  So of course, his chair was sticking out and that led to many, many people bumping into me repeatedly when they walked between our chairs even though there wasn’t room to do so.  But I persevered.

Another price I paid for moving into seat 9 of the 9-handed table was the fellow who soon moved into seat 8.  He was a very loud fellow with an annoying, somewhat high-pitched voice.  And he probably had action on every single basketball game that was still being played.  He found some kindred spirits on the other side of the table, and thus kept discussing the games on TV and all his betting action (and his bracket of course) with the guys across from him.  That meant he was yelling—or maybe I should say screeching—pretty much directly into my ear.  It was not fun.  He meant no harm though, he was a good guy, I just wish he could have kept his voice down a bit (and by a “bit” I mean a whole lot).

It was a fun table the entire night.  When I first got there the table was all abuzz about the games.  As part of this, the group got into a discussion of the best basketball movies of all time.  And I realized something….despite the fact that I am a huge basketball fan, I had seen almost none of the movies they were talking about.  I’ve definitely seen more baseball movies than basketball films.  That led to a brief discussion of best football movies and then, somehow, best “stoner” movies. 

At one point, someone mentioned Jared, the disgraced former Subway spokesman.  I guess he had recently been roughed up pretty badly in prison.  Someone commented that he was a really sick dude.  Another player said, “Yeah, giving his six-inch to kids.”  Another guy said, “Yeah, and he tells them it’s a foot-long.”  Another guy interjected, “It ain’t no foot-long.” And then the lone female at the table had the kicker. “Yeah, and he takes it out and it’s a three-inch.”

The action at the table was wild when I got there.  So I was just hoping to catch a hand or two.  I pretty much didn’t get one the entire night.  Little did I know that this pattern was about to repeat for the entire trip.  Early on I called $12 with Ace-9 of hearts, it was four ways.  The flop came 10-8-7, two spades.  I called a $30 bet and then a guy shoved.  He had me covered (I had pretty much my $200 starting stack).  I folded but someone called.  The guy who shoved won the hand with Ace-high (he had Ace-Jack of spades and missed his flush draw).  The other guy didn’t show but later claimed he had King-Queen of spades.  Wow it must be nice to semi-bluff shove a draw, miss the draw, and still win the hand without even a pair. 

My most memorable hand from the early part of the session was pocket 3’s.  I limped in, it was five-ways, and I flopped my set.  I bet $6 and didn’t get a call.  It was the first pot I’d won.

One of the guys at the table had the misfortune of being in one of those Aces vs. Kings situations.  But I thought the hand played out a bit strange. It was opened to $7 and then this guy made it $15.  Then a third player shoved. The guy shoving had over $400 in front of him and there were a few comparable stacks still in the hand.  The guy who had made it $15 had about $200 or so.  He called.  He showed two Kings and the big stack showed two Aces.  The Aces held.

Huh?  You have Aces and in response to a $15 three-bet you shove $400?  How does that make sense?  Way to get value for your Aces.  Of course, it worked out perfectly for him.  The guy with the Kings said he knewthe shove meant he had Aces but couldn’t fold Kings.  I guess he doesn’t read my blog.  I disagree.  I would not interpret a shove there as Aces—as I said, that’s a bad play in my mind.  The smells more like a hand he didn’t want to get called, no?  Or am I wrong?

While this hand was being played out, the cash drawing was taking place. They were picking 6 $100 winners for the 8PM drawing.  And they pulled a bunch of tickets that weren’t claimed.  So it was taking awhile.  The guy with the Kings had just busted and he stood up, saying he was done for the night.  Just then, the pulled another ticket and it was that guy.  Except that he was out of the game.  But they checked and since he had been dealt into the last hand at the table, he qualified for the drawing.  So he decided that with the $100 he was about to get, he’d stay.  He also took out another $100 to play with.  And then….he proceeded to go on a heater.  He turned that $200 into around $500 in a relatively short period of time.  What an amazing piece of great timing.  Had the drawing been a few minutes (seconds?) later, he would have been gone and missed the prize, and more importantly, missed out on his heater.

So the table was fun and everyone was friendly and then one of the guys suggested that we play a hand where everyone puts in $20 preflop, and we agree to check it down.  And everyone seemed to agree with that except for one nit.

Me.

My first thought was that this was collusion and shouldn’t even be allowed.  Am I wrong?  I mean, I think I’m technically right, but realistically, if everyone agrees, there’s really no harm done.  I never really considered objecting on those grounds, but I did wonder how the powers that be would feel about this. I never asked.

But I still didn’t want to do it.  I couldn’t see the point.  It’s basically a lottery—or a table game.  And like a table game, the odds are bad.  The house is going to take out $6 for the rake, and thus it is –EV.  There’s no skill involved.  No one will bet post-flop, one of the players will make the best hand and take the pot.  If there was no rake at least it would be a fair payoff (though you could just as easily do it for high card and save the trouble of dealing an entire hand).  I was already losing a fair amount and didn’t see why I should risk $20 on a bad bet.  There’s a reason I don’t play table games (or slots) any more.

In hindsight, maybe I should have gone along with it.  Everyone was having a good time and I didn’t want to put on damper on the fun.  I suppose I was too much of a nit there.  What do you think?

Anyway, I said no and the idea was dropped but soon someone mentioned it again.  The guy who originally suggested it said that they could wait until I was under-the-gun and if I folded, they’d do it that hand.  Which struck me as dumb because some of the players may have already seen their hand before it was declared the “$20 per player” hand.  The button had now come around to me, so I said, “No, tell you what, I’ll hit the Men’s Room after this hand so you can have your $20 hand on the next hand.”

I thought that was a pretty nice compromise, but the woman at the table said, “Why don’t you go to the Men’s Room now.”  Really, bitch, really?  You can’t wait one more hand so I can play my button?  As it was, I was giving up the cut-off seat to accommodate them.  Pretty annoying.  I told her I wanted to play my button and so I did.  It was garbage, I folded and headed for the Men’s Room.

It turned out the guy on the heater won that hand with a set of 7’s.  I asked if anyone else had anything and was told there were flush draws and straight draws and even straight flush draws.  In other words, the guy probably could have won more money if they had played that hand straight.  He didn’t mind though, he said he was happy with the $154 pot.

And that’s where I’ll leave this part.  Back in a few days with part 2, once I write it up.  (Edited to add: It's up!  See the conclusion here.)

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