A Friendly Game of Poker

This past Saturday I went to play some poker at Player’s Casino.  It was my first session since I returned from Vegas after a disappointing trip (to say the least). I mean, they say when you fall off a horse, you have to get right back on, right?  That is, if you consider two weeks to be “right back.”

I figured the break was long enough to get me thinking more positively about poker.  Also, the PC is a very different atmosphere than Vegas.  Even before I made the visit, I was thinking about some of the differences and was wondering if maybe I should do a post about them.

By now I’ve played there long enough to observe that most of the players there are regulars.  They all seem to know each other and the dealers.  And I am recognizing many of the players now.  I see a lot of the same faces, and play against the same players, each time I play there. 

Instead of a poker room on the Vegas Strip, it’s more like a poker room at one of the off-Strip, locals’ Vegas casinos, the kind I used to play at a lot when I was a 2/4 limit player.  The more I play there, the more I realize how insular the player pool there is.

It’s true, there’s plenty of regs at the Bike, I began recognizing players soon after I started playing there.  But I think the percentage of regs is even higher at PC.  And because of location, the Bike draws people from a much larger area than PC.  Poker players visiting the L.A. area for other reasons are likely to want to stop at the Bike or Commerce for some poker.  Also, both Bike and Commerce regular hold big tournament series which attract players from all over the country (and the world, really). You might see some of these visitors playing cash when they bust out of the tournament.

But PC is rather isolated and draws just from people who live within the vicinity.  It takes me a bit more than an hour to drive there (if traffic cooperates) and I don’t imagine too many people are driving farther than that.  Commerce has a hotel attached and the Bike is just days away from opening a new attached hotel.  And by the way, for an interview about the new Bike hotel written by a certain blogger you know, see here.  But there’s no hotel that’s part of Player’s Casino—if after a long day of poker there you need to crash, well, maybe you can break into a car at one of the nearby car dealers in the area.

So realizing that there all regs, I started wondering if that put me at a disadvantage.  My thinking was that, these folks all know each other’s game.  Of course, when I first started going there, they didn’t know me, so there was no advantage.  But….since they know the rest of the table, it’s easy for them to concentrate on figuring out how I play, to the exclusion of the other players that they know.  But I have to learn everyone’s game, it’s more of a challenge for me.

The good thing is that the regs at this room are vastly different from the regs in Vegas.  The regs in Vegas consist of a lot of grinders who play for a living.  In order to do that for very long, they have to be really good, really tough players that are hard to get money out of.  You have to make sure there are more tourists—the fishier the better, obviously—at your table than regs.

But the regs at PC are likely not making a living at poker (at least not at the 2/3 game I play, maybe it’s possible at the bigger games they spread).  Some of them play a lot, and maybe poker is their only form of recreation, but they are not, in general, Vegas grinder caliber.

Of course, by now, I’ve played with many of the players multiple times.  And I get to know their games, of course.  But every time I go there, I see players I don’t recognize, who, by their interaction with the dealers or the other players, I can tell are regs in the room.  So they are likely to know most of the people at the table, while I have to figure out most of the players.

Let me ask you folks…..all other things being equal, if you sat at a poker table with 8 people who were total strangers to you but all knew each other, who do you think has the advantage?  You, or the 8 regs?

Anyway, I got into a game and only recognized two players.  One is a youngish fellow who I think I’ve seen pretty much every time I’ve played there and by coincidence, have played with almost every time I’ve seen him.  He is a fairly ABC player, definitely on the nitty side, always buys in for $100 at a time, and is very talkative (about poker and everything else).  Nice guy, perhaps in a perfect world he’d talk a bit less.

But that brings me to another question.  He always buys in for $100, the minimum (max is $300).  Instead of playing 2/3, he could play 1/2 and buy in for the max, also $100.  Again, without knowing more about the games, if you were committed (because of your bankroll, I suppose) to buying in $100 at a time, would you think it is better to buy in for the min at 2/3 game or the max at a 1/2 game?

The other guy I recognized was the guy on my immediate right.  I run into him almost every time as well.  Buys in bigger than the young guy, plays a solid game, not as nitty but not even close to being a maniac. But although I felt I knew how he played, if you had asked me when I sat down if I had ever gotten into a memorable hand with him, I would have just shrugged.  Nothing would have come to mind.  But I would have been wrong, as I found out later.  This particular fellow has always reminded me of famous Hollywood movie director.  I don’t want to say who that director is because I don’t want to identify him.  So I will just refer to him from now on as “Director.”

Interesting, although I’m recognizing players each week, and they are presumably recognizing me, no one has ever said hi to me when I sit down, as if they know me. I guess I haven’t played there enough to be welcomed into the “clique.”  Of course, I don’t say hello to them either, so who am I to talk?

Now despite the fact that there are so many regs, it widely varies from week-to-week how friendly the table I’m at is.  Sometimes, all the regs are quiet, sometimes they are quite chatty, and other times it’s in between.  This table was at the high end of the chattiness scale.   Perhaps too high.  Seriously, it was like a home game with every catching up with their friends activities since last week’s game.  I like a friendly table, but it was actually a bit much for me. I was really, really trying to concentrate on the other players and what they were doing, and all the chatter was distracting.  I guess it was a good argument for wearing earbuds or headphones to keep the noise out.

One topic of conversation was an older gentleman there whose son had recently done very, very well in a really big poker tournament.  Again, I won’t say more because I don’t want to identify him, but it was not the WSOP.  His entire final table effort was rehashed during the course of the session.  And it turned out that the son had played a lot of poker at PC after his father had taught him the game.

Early on, an attractive lady dealer pushed in.  I remembered her from my most recent sessions, but didn’t think I’d seen her when I first started coming into the room.  The dealer was quite slender.  I’m using that word because some women might consider “thin” or “skinny” an insult.  She looked very nice to me.

Well one of the regs at the table hadn’t seen her in awhile and said something about when her baby was due, or something like that.  Huh?  The only way this woman could be pregnant was if she had conceived the baby on her most recent break.  She laughed and said she had the baby four months ago.  Then she stood up, spread her hand across her stomach and said, “Where would a baby be?”  Indeed.  I have to say, based on her slenderness, I would have guessed she couldn’t have had a baby any time within the past five years.

With this dealer in the box, a player won a pot playing 9-6 (I think he caught two pair).  Another player said, “Oh, you’re playing ‘big lick,’ huh?”  The dealer didn’t seem to know what he was talking about it. Hmm… I wonder if she was being honest?  Then the guy explained, in as non-graphic terms as possible, why 9-6 (or perhaps, if you need help, 6-9) is called “big lick.”  She got it and acted a bit embarrassed and didn’t want to pursue it.  But there was a guy across the table—not a young guy—who said in all his years of playing poker, he had never heard of 9-6 being referred to as “big lick,” either.

Just a few hands later, the guy who had educated the dealer as to what 9-6 was made a big bet on the river and was called.  I could see that 9-6 would make a straight and wondered if he had it.  Sure enough, he showed “big lick” and took the pot.  The timing was rather interesting.

Another lengthy topic of discussion was bowling.  One of the players said he grew up in his dad’s bowling alley and another guy said he was a really good bowler but had come close to rolling a perfect 300 game several times and just missed, ending up with scores of 299.  This led to a discussion of what it’s called when the bowl crosses over and instead of hitting the 1-3 pocket, hits the 1-2 pocket.  The guy said it was called a “Brooklyn strike,” but that it used to be called a “Jersey strike.”  Well, he finally remembered that when he lived in New York, where he was from, it was called “Jersey” but that here in California (and everywhere outside of New York, I believe) it’s called a “Brooklyn strike.”  Suddenly I felt a ting of sadness.  My late dad loved to bowl, and I would have loved telling him of this discussion.  Then later, in fact as I was writing this post, I remembered that my Dad had actually told me about the same change he discovered when we moved from New York to California when I was a kid.

Now this guy, Director, he isn’t much of a talker and wasn’t really contributing much to the conversation (neither was I).  But suddenly he had an interesting hand.  He had raised preflop and the board came Ace-Jack-x.  His c-bet was raised and he called.  He check/called the turn.  A Queen hit the river and he led out and was called.  He showed Ace-Queen.  The guy who raised him on the flop showed Ace-Jack.  Nice suckout.  He commented on his good fortune, the Ace-Jack guy commented on his bad fortune, and I said, “nice river, huh?”

Suddenly Director started talking with me.  “Yeah, Lucky, I knew I was beat but I just couldn’t get away from it. It was like that hand against you when I had the set and you had the bigger set.  I had the smallest set possible and when you raised, I knew you had a bigger set, but I couldn’t get away from it.”

Oh wow.  So not only did he remember me but he was still carrying a hand against me with him, mentally.  I started to remember, but the details were fuzzy.  And of course, I knew that when you have a big pot like that, as this apparently was, it’s always the loser of it that remembers it (and dwells on it) a lot more than the winner.  But I also knew that if I had set over set against him, I would have blogged about it and could look it up.

So I asked him for more details, after making the observation I just made, about the loser remembering the hand longer than the winner.  He said he had a set of 2’s and I had a set of 4’s.  And reiterated what he said about knowing I had it and that he couldn’t get away from it.  And obviously, every time he sees me, he thinks about that hand (it was a big pot).  Yet, he’s never said a thing about it to me, or even said hi to me….until right then.

Anyway, I looked it up and he did have some details wrong, or I misheard him.  He had a set of 4’s and I had a set of 7’s.  You can find the story at the end of the post here.  But it’s kind of funny to know that whenever he sees me, whether he ever says hello to me or not, he’s gonna immediately start thinking of that hand.  Now that he brought it up, I guess I will too when I see him.

I had a decent session.  Not in terms of a huge profit—I came out a little ahead—but I was glad that I felt like I played well, didn’t make any big mistakes and pretty much played the way I was playing before things went all to hell in Vegas (see my previous post).

Of course, I was hurt by the dreaded pocket kings, although I never had them.  A few hands earlier, somebody had won a nice pot with a set of Kings.  Now, I called a $15 raise with Ace-7 of spades.  It was heads up.  The flop was Ace high, no spades, just two clubs.  I called a $15 c-bet.  The turn was a blank, and we both checked.  The river was a King, I called a $25 and he showed me two more Kings.  Ugh.  That was two sets of Kings within about four hands and of course, neither of them were mine.

I was down to around $160 (from $300) when things turned around.

With pocket Queens I made it $15 and it was three-way, including Director, who had initially limped in in front of me.  The flop was 3-3-2 and Director donked out $15.  I just called.  The turn was a blank, he bet $20 and I called.  He bet $25 on a blank river.  I figured he most likely had an overpair, and probably lower than mine….but I felt some hand with a 3 in it was also very possible. I just called.  He showed pocket 8’s and I took the pot and learned something more about his game.

The very next hand I got Ace-6 of spades.  This is a hand I “should” raise with (although I know a lot of my readers don’t think so).  But since I had just raised the previous hand and it was a marginal hand anyway, I just limped.  It’s weak—and I guess nitty—but I don’t like raising twice in a row unless the second time I have a really big hand.  Anyway, five of us saw a flop of 6-5-3, two spades.  No one bet.  The turn was an Ace and I bet $25 and two players called.  The river was a deuce of spades.  I bet $60 and one player called.  He had a 4 for the straight (I think his other card was a Jack, or maybe a King).  He kvetched about the 2 being a spade.  Since I had two pair before rivering the nut flush, he felt I would have called a similar bet to the one he called if it was the 2 of clubs instead of the 2 of spades. 

Suddenly I was profitable for the session.

The only other hand I noted was when I was on the button with pocket 4’s.  It folded to me.  I suppose the gentlemanly thing to do there is to fold and let the blinds chop.  Is that what I should have done?  When it folds to me with a baby pocket pair on the button, I tend to make a smaller than normal raise.  Now that could be a bet-sizing tell but it happens so rarely—hardly ever more than once a session—that I don’t think anyone would ever pick up on it.  I made it $9 instead of my usual $12.  The big blind called.  The flop totally missed me but there were no face cards on it.  After the big blind checked, I c-bet $12 and after a bit of a tank job, he folded.

I cashed out up almost $50 up, but it was fun, friendly session and now at least I feel I’m back in the game

Confessions of a Bad Poker Player

When I was reviewing my crib notes from my last Vegas trip, looking for something to blog about, I came across the entry for this day and it said, “Good session, should be bloggable, not spectacular.”  Which made it one of the best nights of my trip.  But when I replayed my voice notes, I was reminded of some of the worst poker play of my life, and had to decide whether or not to mention the bad play or just do a pretty bland post about a few small, “unspectacular” pots.

Now, when I did the post about promos making me stupid, (here) I didn’t really intend to post examples of that stupidity….but what the hell, I might as well be honest with my readers and post the whole gory details with a promise never to play like this again.  And publically shaming myself might just help me keep that vow.

This took place just two nights after the session I described here.  After that, I came close to taking the next night off, but instead, I played $1-$1 at the Linq and managed to book a small win (not sure if that session is worth writing about or not; I’ll have to see).  So this night I was back to my usual 1/2 game.  But I really wasn’t very confident going in, and trying to book a win became much more important than it should have because of the bad run I was in the midst of.  I felt that getting that win would make it easier for me to return the next night and just play poker again, without thinking too much of the bad sessions I’d had up to that point. 

Of course, that’s not the best attitude to go into a session with, is it?  It leads one to play some bad poker and then that makes it a lot harder to win.  But I went over all that in the post about the promos I’ve already linked to.

Early on I got pocket Jacks, raised to $8 and it was three-ways.  The flop was 4-4-3.  I bet $15 on the flop, one call.  The turn was a 9 and I bet $25 and he called.  The river was a deuce.  I just checked, concerned about a straight or a boat or just that my luck had been too bad lately.  He showed Ace-King so for the life of me I couldn’t figure out why he would call the turn. 

I got pocket Aces and after a couple of limpers, I made it $12.  It was three ways and no one called my $25 bet on a King-high flop.

In the small blind I had King-Queen of diamonds.  I called $12 preflop and it was three-ways (this seemed to be a night for three-ways, I guess).  The flop was Ace-Queen-5, one diamond, the 5. I called $18 and it was heads up.  The turn was the 10 of diamonds.  I called $37.  The river was a low diamond and the villain bet $62.  We still each had enough money behind for a raise, but I didn’t have the confidence to bet with just the second nuts.  I called, and he said, “Damn.”  That’s a great feeling, isn’t it?—the guy saying something like that when you call? He insta-mucked without turning his hand over.  That got me a drawing ticket.

A few minutes later, with Queen-10 of hearts in the small blind, I completed and caught a flush draw.  It didn’t hit until the river and I called bets of $10 and $15 on the flop and turn.  But the villain didn’t bet the river even though he had a King-high flush. See, I’m not the only one who doesn’t bet the second nuts on the river.  I got a drawing ticket and didn’t lose too much money.

I got two more big pairs relatively close together.  With Queens, I raised and took down another three-way pot with a c-bet.  With Aces, no one called my preflop bet.

With Ace-King offsuit in the small blind, I just completed (I know, I know!).  Another three-way pot and the flop was Ace-high.  I bet $5 and had one caller.  A blank on the turn, I bet $10 and was called.  Another Ace hit the river. I bet $15 and the guy made it $30.  Damn, did he have a boat?  Or just an Ace with maybe a worse kicker (he couldn’t have had a better one). I called and he just mucked.  I figured that might have been one of the worst bluffs ever.  I suppose a min-raise there might have looked like he was trying to induce a call when he had a monster, but since my bet was so small, it was only $15 to call.  Did he really think that would get me to fold, especially since I had bet all three-streets?

So I was actually have a good night, actually getting some good cards, winning some pots, up a bit.  It was a nice feeling.  And then this drunk guy shows up at the table.  A youngish guy, he was really, really drunk.  He showed up at the table, apparently from a broken table, with over $500 on him (a lot more than I had).  At first he just exhibited his drunkenness by talking non-stop.  I’m not sure about what, I tried not to pay attention, but he just would not stop talking.  The only think I really remember him saying was, when he sat down, “Don’t take advantage of the drunk guy.”  Despite how drunk he was, the waitress kept delivering more beers to him.

He wasn’t playing badly or erratically at first.  He was slowing the game down a bit because of his non-stop chatter and his not paying attention to whose turn it was because of his lack of sobriety.  But his play was reasonable.  And after awhile, he tried to leave the table to go play with his friends, but by the time he racked up his chips and went over to his buddy’s table, the seat was filled and he had to return (he hadn’t bothered to ask the floor for a table change, drunks don’t think of that).  When he got back, he started playing wildly, making big preflop raises, and making big flop and turn bets and raises.  He showed a few bluffs.  Although, he was so drunk, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he had showed a bluff that he didn’t realize was a bluff because in his condition, he could easily have misread his hand.  Of if he thought he was bluffing but actually had a monster.

And that’s one of the problems with playing against a drunk, isn’t it?  It’s impossible to get a read on them.  They can do anything.  And they can do anything because they might think they’re doing one thing and are really doing something they didn’t intend.  And it’s pretty hard to get a read on someone who might have totally misread his hand.

Still, ordinarily, you’d welcome a drunk at your table, as long as he isn’t an obnoxious drunk and as long as he doesn’t slow the game down too much.  But I’d prefer a drunk who bought in for fewer chips and had to keep reloading.  Not a drunk who came to the table with more chips than I had.

You see, by this time, I was enjoying poker again and was already thinking how nice I was gonna feel if I was able to take most of the chips in front of me away when I left.  Yeah, I was already looking forward to booking this win.

This probably would have been a great night to make it a short session, get that win in the books. But of course, I had the two drawing tickets and since those drawing tickets make stupid….really really stupid…..I stayed to the drawing.

Before the drunk started playing erratically, I called his raise to $7 with pocket Queens.  It was just heads up.  The flop was Jack-high and I called his $10 bet.  The turn was a Queen, this time he bet $20. There were two hearts on the board.  I made it $50 and he folded, saying, “Good bet.  I’m sure you don’t have anything, but I’ll let you have it.”  Yeah I didn’t have anything. If you call a set of Queens not anything.

Now that happened soon after the drunk sat down.  By the time he came back after the failed table change attempt, I had around $200 profit and it would have sure felt good to book a double up.  And when the guy started playing wildly, I was concerned that the game could start resembling the game from two days earlier with the maniac of all maniacs, and I really wasn’t thrilled with that idea.  I probably should have asked for a table change, but I figured maybe I could wait the guy out.  He might lose his stack—or pass out—any minute now.

So I stayed but I was ultra, ultra cautious.  It is not a good way to play poker.  Especially since I kept getting playable cards.  I raised to $10 with Ace-Queen and two players called, including the drunk.  The flop was Ace-high.  I put out $25, the first guy folded, and the drunk made it $95.  Well, It might have been a bluff.  It might have been the guy betting with a crappier Ace.  It might have been the guy had no idea what he had.  Or he could have had two pair, or a set, who knows.  But I wasn’t interested in risking that much with top pair, second best kicker.  So I just folded.  He showed his hand—Ace-10.  There was no 10 on the board, I was ahead.  But I think in a lot of situations, I’m not calling a bet like that with just top pair, so I can’t really be too self-critical.

But then the very next hand, I was in the small blind with pocket Queens. Drunk opened the pot for $25, and then said, “Oops, I didn’t mean to grab that many chips.”  Well, he was drunk, so that could have meant anything—or nothing.  But I took it to mean he had a big hand but he wanted some action. Perhaps erroneously, that made me think that he wasn’t full of crap this time and actually had a hand he would glad to go to the flop with.  He had made other pretty big preflop bets without getting called, and without saying anything.

It folded to me and I had a decision to make. My first thought was to three-bet, at least until I analyzed his comment.  As I mentioned in that promo post, there are different schools of thought, three-betting with Queens.  Ed Miller doesn’t recommend it, but many of the other pros on his Red Chip Forum site do.  I usually don’t do it.  This was a guy that I would likely do it against, under normal circumstances.  But he still had me covered and I still wanted, if not needed, to book the win.  I thought about making it $100.  Drunk would likely fold, unless he really did have the big hand this time.  Or maybe he would call or shove back anyway with 7-deuce.  No way to be sure.

I figured a raise would put my entire stack—and all my profit—at risk.  So, just call, then?  But I kind of dismissed that, too.  Sure I could flop a set, but the odds are against it.  And if I see an Ace—or even a King—on the flop, yeah, I can get away from it for only the $25.  But If it was a low flop, how far would I go with it?  Again, if it was good flop for Queens, did I really want to risk my stack there?

There was only one player left to act, the big blind.  He was a solid player. He had both the drunk and me covered.  Didn’t see him make an obvious mistake all night. I was sure that I’d played with him before, even though I didn’t think he was a local.  I figured he was folding to $25 unless he had a really big hand.  Thus, I figured if I folded, I’d never see the flop, and wouldn’t know how It would have turned out if I had stayed in the pot.  And honestly, that’s what I wanted.

So yes, I just folded pocket Queens preflop.  To a drunk.  Not my best poker moment.

To my surprise, the big blind tanked.  And then….he called.  That was not at all what I wanted to happen.

I almost closed my eyes when the dealer put the flop out.  But I peaked and there was no Queen.  No, it was 9-8-2.  So it would have been the worst type of flop if I had kept those Queens.  But not my problem anymore. 

I don’t remember if there was any action on the flop.  Based on what I noted about the turn action, there might not have been any betting, which would have been weird but I think that’s the case. 

The turn was a 9, and this time the big blind put out $25.  Drunk made it $100, and again big blind went into the tank.  I assumed he was likely deciding whether to fold or call.  Boy, do I need to improve my reads.

He finally called.  The river was a blank.  To my surprise, the big blind announced all-in, and the drunk snap-called.  Or as snap as a guy that drunk could be.

Big blind flipped over 9-8 of spades for a lovely full house.  Drunk showed his pocket Jacks, unimproved.  And he was felted, and didn’t rebuy, and the big blind had a whole mass of chips to stack.

We talked about the hand.  “I knew his comment about grabbing too many chips was bull.  I figured I could get him good if I the flop hit me hard and that it was worth risking the $25.”

I pressed further and he said, “I wouldn’t have chased a flush or straight draw.  I would only have continued a made hand.”  Assuming that is, that the guy was going to make it very expensive to chase a draw.  He figured he had a big pair, just as I did.

And I asked about the call on the turn. “So that was your hesitation, whether to re-raise or wait to get it all in on the river?”  That’s what he was thinking about, and he figured he had a better chance getting it in on the river.  It probably didn’t matter.

I didn’t tell him what I folded—I was way too embarrassed.  But I wondered what he would have done if I had called? He knew I was a tight player and if I called there, he puts me on a big pair, probably Kings or Queens, or maybe Ace-King.  And he’s got a hand to crack those with, so he probably still calls.

But if I had raised—if I had made it $100?  No way does he call that.  Not a chance.

And if I had raised, there’s no way drunk folds his Jacks.  If he was lucid enough to realize I was a tight player, he might only call.  But he probably re-raises, probably a shove.  Even if he thinks he’s behind, with his state of mind (or lack thereof), he might think, “Well, I could get lucky.” 

And so would I have put my whole stack in play preflop with QQ?  Probably not.  Not on this day.  Not with my own state of mind.  Perhaps on another day, when I’m better able to play my best game.  Not there.

On a better night, I could have doubled my stack right there.  On this night, I was glad to get away from it for free, because I wouldn’t have been willing to risk the chips to win, if I had stayed in the hand.  Just calling there preflop would have ended up costing me a bunch of chips as well.

With the drunk gone, I managed to win a couple of pots.  I raised to $12 with pocket 10’s, and it was three-ways.  I bet $25 on a low flop and only the guy next to me with the now humungous stack called.  The turn was a paired 3, and I bet $35 and he folded.

Then right before the drawing, I had pocket fours and called $12. Again, three of us saw an all diamond flop—but one with a 4 on it.  I called $15 and then $20 when another diamond hit the turn. But a paired Jack on the river gave me a boat, and no one called my $30 river bet.

I got another drawing ticket, and of course, whiffed on the drawing.  When I cashed out, I had a $210 profit, a double up I badly needed for my psyche.  I survived my terrible play to book the win, but I know I left a whole bunch of money on the table.

"Don't Be A Dick"

Some unbelievable things happened on this night.

1. I got a straight flush (probably like the 4^th or 5^th one I’ve ever gotten).

2. I accused a player of collusion.

3. I got called a “dick” (ok, that’s maybe not so unbelievable).

4. I became pals with the guy who called me a dick.

The context for this session is very important.  It was my last night in Vegas.  And as I’ve already made quite clear, I was not having a good trip, poker wise (see here, if you’ve forgotten).

So this was my last session of the trip.  And it got off to a horrific start.  Just a few hands into it, I lost my first buy-in ($200).  In the big blind, I turned a wheel with a redraw to the steel wheel.  But on the river, the other flush hit, and that was that (going into more detail is too painful to recount).

I was chugging along, trying to get my money back when a flopped two pair became somebody’s straight by the river.  That only cost me $100.  So I topped off my stack for $100.

So, as you can imagine, by the time the key hand of the evening took place, I was not in the best of moods. 

Sitting to my right was a reg who I first mentioned in the post here as the guy who reminds me of my best friend from Junior High School.  I’ll give him a name this time, since he figures into this story a bit.  I’ll call him “Craig.”  But for this hand, the key characters are two brothers (middle-aged) and a Frenchman.  The Frenchman we’ll just call “Frenchy,” and we’ll identify the brothers as “B1” and “B2”. 

B1 had been at the table when I arrived, and had a whole lot of chips.  B2 arrived after me and had a smaller stack, varied between $100 and $200.  It turned out that the two brothers live on opposite sides of the country and were getting together in Vegas for a visit.  Pretty sure they are both married and left their wives behind.  B1 actually lives in the L.A. area, not far from me.  B2 lives in Washington, DC where he practices law 

B1 was on the opposite side of the table from me, and B2 was sitting across from me.  The fact that they were sitting far apart from each other didn’t prevent them from having a conversation the whole time.  It was pleasant enough, they seemed to be having a good time interacting with each other and the other players.  They were giving each other some good-natured ribbing throughout the session.

Because of the aftermath, it took me awhile to write down the hand, and with all the ensuing commotion, I might have some of the details wrong, but I’ve hopefully got most of it right.

This happened a few hands after I had just added on the $100, so I had a bit less than $200 in front of me and was in for $500.  I was in the big blind with 9-2 of diamonds. 

Five of us saw the flop, including B1 and Frenchy, but not B2.  And the flop was 8-6-2, with both the 8 and the 6 being diamonds.  So I had bottom pair, a flush draw, and a back door straight draw.  Certainly enough to call a $10 bet with, and it was now three handed with B1 & Frenchy.

The turn was, amazingly enough, the 7 of diamonds.  That gave me the 9-high flush, as well as the open-ended straight flush draw.  But I pretty much dismissed that, as straight flushes are so rare.  I was worried that my flush wasn’t high enough and I sure didn’t want to see another diamond on the river—unless it was the 10 or 5.  I led out for $25 and both players called.

Well, wouldn’t you know it, it was indeed the 10 of diamonds that came out on the river, completing the first straight flush I’ve seen in well over a year.  Now what to do?  I wanted to be called by at least one of them, if not both.  How much could I bet?  It was certainly tempting to put all my chips out there, but for the size of the pot that would have been a huge overbet and I was afraid no one would call. 

But I didn’t have very long to think about it—no time at all, really—when suddenly, B2, not in the hand, blurted out, “Oh look at that—an up and down straight flush draw out there!”

Are you freaking kidding me?

I was lived, but of course, I couldn’t say anything.  Sadly, the dealer didn’t say anything, either.  This is a dealer who has dealt me thousands of hands over the years and is one of the least likely to correct a player unless he absolutely has to.  I would have liked for him to have told him immediately that what he did was wrong, even though, of course, it was too late, the genie was out of the bottle.

Now, with my hand basically having been called, I grabbed just a few chips--$40 worth—and put them out.  There was now probably zero chance that if one of them had the Ace of diamonds they would raise.  Maybe they wouldn’t even call.

B1 folded in a nano-second and Frenchy tanked.  He asked for a count.  He tanked some more.  Finally he called.

The action was over and I wasted no time in exploding. As I was starting to flip my cards over, I angrily said to the dealer, by name, “Would you tell this guy he can’t talk about the hand?”

As soon as the dealer finished calling out my hand, he did indeed warn B2 about talking about the hand.  And the guy apologized.  He said, “Oh, I’m sorry.”  Now that should have ended it, but I was way too upset to let it go.  At that moment, I had just had the best hand I’d han in a long time, at the end of a long trip where little went right, and I was sure the guy had cost me some money—possibly a lot of money.

I don’t remember exactly what I said, but I can assure you I used a very angry tone.  It was something like, “You know, that’s really bad.  And that was your brother who folded.  Someone might think that was collusion.”

B2 didn’t take very kindly to that.  “Oh come on.  Collusion?  Don’t be a dick.” His tone was pretty angry, too.

I didn’t say anything to B2.  I was sitting right next to the dealer and I said to him, “Are you gonna call the floor?”  He replied, “I got the light on.”

In the meantime, I didn’t even see Frenchy’s hand, which he had exposed because he indeed had a flush (so he earned a drawing ticket).  Did he have the Ace or a lesser flush?  I couldn’t tell you.  The steam coming out of my ears was blocking my vision.

Nothing else was said until the shift manager showed up a few seconds later.  Of course, this shift manager knows me by name.  I said nothing while the dealer accurately described what happened.  But interestingly, instead of saying that he called me “a dick” he said he called me a bad name.  I wonder if that’s procedure, not to use the offending word?

I think I may have said, “he called me a dick,” but at the same time, Craig spoke up and said, “he called him a dick.”  Thanks for having my back, Craig.

No one disputed anything, and the shift manager said, “Now, two things.  One, you can’t talk about the hand when it’s live.  And two, you can’t call my players nasty names.”

B2 didn’t argue.  He said he understood, and apologized to me again.  By name.  He heard both the dealer and the shift manager refer to me as “Robert” so he said, “I’m really sorry, Robert.”

At which point the shift manager turned to me and said, “Are you ok with that?”

Well by now, I had cooled down some.  And anyway, there was nothing else that could be done.  I mean, if the guy had actually helped save his brother some money, I didn’t think it was intentional.  By the way, his brother didn’t say a word during any of this.

I said I was fine and then the shift boss said something about getting back to poker and maybe kind of reminded B2 to watch his mouth again.  And that was it.

Now, if I had said I wasn’t ok, I’m not sure what else could have/would have been done.  I don’t think he would have kicked B2 out of the room.  I think at most he would have found another table for one of us to move to. 

And I want to say that I don’t think I got any preferential treatment due to the shift manager knowing me as one of his regs.  I’m sure it would have been handled the same way regardless.  I suppose if B2 had disputed any facts, I might have had the advantage since they know me, but since he admitted being at fault, it wasn’t a factor.

Although it was over, there was kind of an uncomfortable air over the table, or at least for me.  And I realized I was extremely self-conscious (I rarely lose my temper like that). And so, having cooled off, I kind of realized that I had over reacted.  I’m sure if the same situation had occurred during a time when I had been running well, I would have handled it more in stride.

And I was feeling very uncomfortable there.  And I realized that the guy had just made an innocent mistake.  So, when we were both out of a hand, I got up, walked over to him, and yes, believe it or not, I actually apologized to him.  I apologized to the guy who had called me a “dick.”  I said something like, “I’m sorry I overreacted, it’s just that I’ve been running really bad and I don’t get many straight flushes.”  Duh, who does?

He was a gentleman, “Nah, forget it, it’s over, I understand.”  And then I reached out my hand and we shook on it.  It was over.

And so we all played together the rest of the night.  Turns out both B1 and B2 were pretty good guys.  And B2 and I almost got to be buddies. Maybe I don’t need the “almost” in the last sentence.

There was hand where I was heads up against Craig after the flop, which was 3-4-5 rainbow.  I had been the small blind and I had Ace-6 of hearts.  Craig limped in from the button and bet the flop and the turn, which I called with my open ender, especially with the turn being an Ace.  When 2 hit the river, I bet out my straight and Craig hesitated a bit before calling.  He flipped over Ace-2, so he got worse than counterfeited.  He figured he was calling for a chop after flopping the wheel, but I had a better straight than was on the board.

Anyway, as I was scooping my chips, and giving Craig my insincere, “I’m sorry,” B2 said, “Did you hear that?  I did it again.  I said, ‘There’s a straight on the board.’ I can’t help myself, it’s totally involuntary.”

Now the fact was, I did hear him say that, but I was sure he had said it after Craig had called.  But no, B2 insisted he said it before the action was over.  Wow.  Interesting confession to make, especially to me.  But it goes to show that we had become pals by then.

As I mentioned, he and his brother were bantering and giving each other shit all night.  At one point, his brother said something he didn’t like, and, before responding, he looked at me and said, “Is it ok if I call my brother a dick?”  I laughed and said sure.  So of course, B2 called his brother a dick and then said that I had given him permission to do so.  I laughed and said, “I’m guessing that’s not the first time you’ve called him a dick.”  He laughed and said not even close.

When I found out he was a D.C. lawyer, I asked him if he ever played in those Maryland rooms that a certain Poker Barrister plays in.  He says he never does.  Too much going on when he’s home between his wife, his kids, his dogs, etc.  Hmm…Perhaps if he’d play more live poker he could break himself of the habit of blurting out what’s on the board.

Of course, I had to tell him the story that said PPP, the other DC lawyer I know, had just completed a 6-week assignment where he was forced to stay in Vegas during a trial.  He agreed that it must have been pure hell to be stuck in a suite at the V’dara all that time.

I had a couple of tickets for the midnight drawing so I stayed that long.  And they were giving away five $200 prizes.  I whiffed, but both B2 and Craig were called.  Two winners at my table and neither was me.  That was how I was running.

I left down a bunch, and said goodbye to both B1 and B2, wishing them safe trips home.  Meanwhile, Craig and I cashed out together.  To this point, we had hardly spoken a word to each other, ever.  He did call me “Robert” a few times that night, after hearing the shift manager call me that.  Like, “Ok, Robert, I’ll call you,” or “I wish I hadn’t played that hand, Robert.”  But nothing more than that.  So I was surprised when he asked me what my “poker website” was.  Hmm….I don’t recall the blog ever been talked about it my presence.  But apparently one of the dealers had told him about it at one point.  I’m kind of thinking he wants to read my report on this particular night.

So here it is, Craig.  Welcome. 

On my last night in Vegas, I lost money, hit a straight flush, and became buddies with a guy who called me a dick.  Ho hum.