But the poker
tournament up for discussion was basically a Tale of Two Cities. Or two tournaments, at least for me. There was the tournament before the first
break, and the one after that break.
Very different indeed.
Also, there
was a big ruckus over whether a guy had folded, and as usual, there was a woman
talking about dealing poker with her shirt off.
Ho hum.
This was my
last day of the trip that started in May and ended in June. I decided to play in the Noon Mega Stack tournament
at Caesars, $130 buy-in. And for the
first four levels I was running like god, as they say.
First level,
with King-Jack hearts, I raised to $250 (blinds were 50/100) and only the big
blind called. Jack-10-5, two hearts on
the flop. I bet $500 and he called. Ace of spades on the turn and I bet
$700. He made it $2K. I called.
Heart on the river gave me the flush.
I bet $4k and he called. He had
King-Queen for the straight on the turn and I sucked out on him.
An aggro
raised to $550 and I made it $1500 with pocket Jacks. He folded pocket 10’s face up. A few hands later I had pocket Queens and
faced a raise and a call. I three-bet
and they both folded.
Third level,
the blinds were 150/300. I raised to
$1000 with Ace-Queen off. One caller, a
short stack. Jack high flop, I made a
$1500 c-bet. He called. Queen on the turn, I bet $2K, he shoved for
$6100 more. I think about it and realize
I would still have a decent stack if I called and lost, so I called. He flipped over Ace-Queen for a chopped pot.
I raised with
Ace-10 and had one caller. Queen-10-x
on the flop and I bet out. He shoved for
not much more than my bet. I snap
called. He had pocket 9’s. The turn was a Jack, the river was a King,
giving us both straights but I had the bigger straight and he was done.
Towards the
end of this run, a new dealer pushed in, a woman who was probably approaching
middle-age Rather ordinary looking
lady. She corrected the older guy to my
right about betting out of turn or putting out his blind out at the wrong time,
something like that. He apologized and
she said, “It’s ok this time, but next time we’re gonna take you in the back
and beat you.”
The guy said,
“At my age, that’s actually a good offer.
I’ll take that offer.”
She said,
“Oh, they don’t let me do that anymore. They
don’t let me do anything. They don’t let me beat people. They don’t let me take my top off.”
That got my
attention, though it seemed like a total non- sequitur to me. Nobody
asked her about it but that didn’t stop her from telling us what she was
talking about.
It seems that
when they were filming the movie The Hangover at Caesars, the cast and crew
would regularly play poker after shooting, late into the night. And during one graveyard shift, around 4AM,
there was only one table going, and everyone at the table was with the
film. So they offered her $1,000 if she
would take her top off and deal to them with her top off. She said, “$1,000?” and she looked around, no
one was there, so she said, “Why not?” and took her top off.
I think we
were all wondering if she meant she had truly gotten topless when she added,
“Why not? I was a bra model for 15
years. So it was no big deal and I got
$1,000 for it.”
After not too
long, a supervisor came along and insisted she put her shirt back on and told
her not to do that again.
(Edited to add: actually, considering how I started out this blog post, with the reference to Charles Dickens's most famous work, you will see that we are now talking about, "A Sale of Two Titties"). Thanks to my pal Norm who came up with this--see the very first comment to this post below).
(Edited to add: actually, considering how I started out this blog post, with the reference to Charles Dickens's most famous work, you will see that we are now talking about, "A Sale of Two Titties"). Thanks to my pal Norm who came up with this--see the very first comment to this post below).
I want to
make it clear, I had nothing to do with her telling that story. I didn’t say anything to her to prompt it, I
hadn’t said a word to her when she started telling us this. As I’ve said, these women just seem to find
me.
After the
break, my cards and my luck totally changed.
I couldn’t get a hand to save my life.
I tried to make a few moves with weak hands, and usually only ended up
losing chips. Nothing too dramatic, just
a steady drip drip drip. Combined with blinds
and antes creeping up and suddenly I was no longer playing with a full deck, I
mean a big stack. When our table broke
and I was moved, I was struggling with a tournament “M” of around 10, usually
the place where I start thinking of making shoves instead of raises.
The last good
hand I hand was with pocket 6’s. I put
out a big raise, one lady called. A-10-3
flop. She checked, and I nervously put
out about half my stack. She tanked for
awhile and then folded. I figure she
either had a 10 or a weak Ace. Phew.
The new table
I was at had a decidedly European flavor. There was a Brit, an Irishman and a
German. The German got into quit a snit
with an ugly American. I kind of mean
that literally. He was a big, mean
looking dude, and extremely unfriendly.
He also had a massive amount of chips.
So he got
into a hand with the German and by the river, there was both a straight and a
flush possible. The German bet
$15K. I didn’t note the size of the pot,
but I remember thinking it was a pretty small bet for that pot. The big guy didn’t say a word and just flipped
over his hand. Note, he didn’t push his cards forward, he flipped the cards
over right in front of his stack. But
the German and the dealer both thought that was a fold. The dealer went to grab his cards and the
German started sliding his hand toward the dealer (he was sitting right next to
the dealer).
Now I should
point out that during these summer series all over town, including the WSOP,
you see a lot of less than experienced dealers.
I had already figured out that this particular dealer wasn’t a regular
dealer, he had difficulty making change and keeping the antes straight. But he clearly thought the guy had folded as
did the other player.
Before the
dealer touched the exposed cards, the player who flipped them over grabbed them
and said, “No, no, I’m not folding. I’ve
got two pair. I call.”
The German
says, “No, that’s a muck.” The other guy
insisted it was not a muck. “Why would I
fold, I have two pair.” Well, here’s a
thought: both a straight and a flush look very possible, sir.
While they
were arguing, he put out chips to call the bet.
The dealer seemed to think it was a fold, and I think he even said that
to the player, who said, “No, that’s not a fold, I just turned my cards over to
see his reaction.”
Either the
German or the dealer said, “Well, you’re not supposed to do that.”
He said,
“Fine, penalize me but don’t kill the hand.”
So they
called the floor over and explained it to him.
The floor ruled it wasn’t a fold, the cards never touched the muck. His cards were live.
That really
infuriated the German who just mucked his cards without showing. He said, “Anywhere in the world that’s a muck,
you turn over your cards like that.” But
the ruling stood.
As an aside,
I already noted that his bet on the river was small compared to the pot. If he wanted to pull off a bluff there, he
needed to make a bigger bet, in my opinion.
Meanwhile,
the Irishman at the table had started criticizing the guy who turned his cards
over. That got the other guy really
pissed and he told him, in a loud, nasty voice, to shut the f up. “This has nothing to do with you, stay out of
it.” I wondered if fisticuffs were about
to break out.
This turned
out to be the last hand before the break, and during the break the floor did
penalize the player for exposing his cards.
I thought he’d have to sit an orbit, but no, it was only three
hands. And since he had been the small
blind on that hand, all he lost were three antes.
With Queen-10
clubs in early position, at 200/800/1600 I made it $5K. I had around $32K in chips. I
think I should have just shoved instead.
One guy called. Flop was
Jack-10-4. So with middle pair, my
continuation bet was a shove. The other
player had me well covered and snap called.
He had Ace-Queen for the gut shot.
He picked up a flush draw on the turn and then got a King on the river
for a straight. And I was done.
What had
started so promisingly ended rather early.
No big disaster hands, either. Just
the way tournaments run sometimes.
At least I
got to meet a dealer who claimed she’d been paid a grand to deal poker with shirt
off.
So, was this "A Tale of Two Cities" or "A Sale of Two Titties"?
ReplyDeleteIn the words of someone we've known for longer than we care to admit, "Norm, I hate it when you're funnier than me."
DeleteGREAT line, perfect use of the old joke. I should have thought of it myself. You will note above that I did add it into the body of the post--and gave you credit--so that readers won't miss it.
Thanks.
Psychotherapy definitely needed for your obsession, Rob. We'll get you the breast therapist we can find.
ReplyDeleteWow, do you really think that I'm that obsessed with poker that I need treatment? I just play for fun, really. I can stop any time. Like right now, for instance, I'm not playing poker.
DeleteBTW, you spelled "best" wrong.