"How Big is Your Pair, Sir?"

Damn.

The title of this post was supposed to be the title of the previous post, the post about finishing 6^th at the Aria tournament earlier this month (see here).  But somehow, the note about that quote wasn’t located in the right place in my notes, so I missed it when I did the post.  So I’ll lead off with it here, before going to the real guts of this post, which is going to be about the poker session I had with fellow bloggers Coach and grrouchie. I’ll get to that in a moment.

But quickly, back to the Aria tournament.  At one point during the tournament, I made a rather large preflop re-raise vs the table’s current chip leader’s original raise.  I really don’t remember the details.  But it put the guy in a quandary, because I had been paying tight and because at this moment I had enough chips to hurt him. He agonized for awhile as he considered what to do.  He was on the opposite side of the table from me.  Finally, he said to me, “How big is your pair, sir?”

This got some laughs, but also got a warning from the female dealer.  At the Aria, during tournaments at least, they take the “no talking about the hand” very seriously.  And this was considered talking about the hand.  So it was a no-no.  The guy who asked the question apparently knew the rule, because instead of questioning the warning, he said he wasn’t talking to me, he was talking to the Tournament Director, who had at that precise moment had come by to pick up an empty rack off the table.  Let’s call that Tournament Director Teddy for the sake of this story (T.D.—Teddy, get it?).

So the dealer says, “You were asking Teddy how big his pair is?”

The guy chuckled and said, “Yes, that’s right.”

Of course, no one was buying it.  But the lady dealer was going to let it slide this time.  And then she added, “Actually, I think Teddy has a pretty big pair,” with a wry smile.

Anyway, the next night I had arranged to meet Coach and grrouchie at BSC.  Now Coach has already mentioned this titanic meeting.  Please note, Coach, I am putting a link to said post here.  As best I can remember, grrouchie never posted about this session, probably because he was too embarrassed.  I know his last hand was one where he got beat by a terrible suckout on the river.  But he still had chips when he left the table.  More likely he is embarrassed that he left without saying goodbye.

Anyway, grrouchie was actually playing, but we were separated by the dealer, making conversation difficult.  But when he did speak, he was mostly, well, grouchy.  As for Coach (see link here), he didn’t even play that night, deciding to just watch grrouchie and me (hey, that sounds like a great name for a book).  I can only assume that, having read my blog for lo these many months, Coach was too afraid of my awesome poker skills to play at the same table as me.  But we did talk quite a bit.  It was a bit distracting tho, getting up to talk to him between hands.  Still it was great to meet him, and hopefully next time he’ll work up the courage to put some money down at a table with me.  For those who don’t know, Coach just moved (back) to Vegas a few weeks ago and was busy trying to find both a job and a place to live.

As for the poker, I started out very well and then cooled off a bit.  My buddy Mike was the first dealer, and the first hand he dealt me was—what else—pocket Kings.  Now not only is this my own personal hand from hell—as well documented on this blog—but it is also the hand that Mike always seemed to deal me at least once every down.  This actually goes back to when I was a 2/4 player, and he was the one to notice how often he dealt me cowboys.

But back then, in my 2/4 days, it wasn’t such a nightmare hand for me.  Sure, it got beat often, but you have to expect that in low limit.  Aces and Kings routinely get cracked, it’s almost an upset to win with them.  But at that level, it usually doesn’t cost you a lot of money to get them beat, whereas in No Limit it can prove to be quite costly, as I’ve mentioned once or twice previously. 

Anyway, I raised preflop, bet the flop when no Ace hit, and took the pot when my turn bet wasn’t called.  I whispered to Mike that I had my “usual hand” and he knew exactly what I meant.  Not too long after, he sent me pocket Aces.  I hit my set on the flop, but with a King there also, I had to bet because of possible draws. I think I bet $50 and was called.  A second King on the turn filled me up, and I guess I should have checked there.  I thought about it, but since I had led out all the way until then, I wasn’t sure checking there would get me any more value.  I have to think about that some more.  Anyway, I put out $100 and the other guy tanked for awhile before folding.

With Mike still dealing, my luck came to a sudden end.  He dealt me a couple of sevens and the pot was limped around.  Again I hit my set, but the board of 678 was scary to say the least.  First action bet $10.  I had to raise. Was $30 enough?  That’s what I put out.  And then the next guy goes all-in.

I was hoping it was a semi-bluff, and he hadn’t flopped a straight.  The guy who led out for $10 folded.  I had the guy who shoved easily covered, it was around $130.  I felt for that kind of money, it was a reasonable call.  Even if he did have the straight, I still had two chances to get my boat.  So I called.  He didn’t show, but the last two cards, an Ace and a 4, didn’t help me.  Then he took the pot showing 10/9 for the flopped straight.  Ugh.

A little while later, Michelle came to the table—as a player.  One of the neat things about meeting some of my blog readers at BSC is that I can point out to them some of the characters I write about.  So when Michelle came to the table, I told Coach that she was the dealer I could never win a pot with.  Of course, I assume everyone who reads my blog has memorized every post I’ve ever written.  He had noticed that Michelle said hello to me by name when she came to the table.

She didn’t stay at the table very long, waiting for a table change.  I won a very small pot from her when my pocket fours held up without becoming a set.  I didn’t bet the flop which included a King and Queen, but no one else did either.  Similarly, no one bet the turn or the river.  Michelle was hoping her Ace high would take the small pot, but didn’t mind losing to my lousy pocket 4’s.  She actually thanked me for no betting and said that for not betting, she owed me one more pot.  Ok, I’ll take it.

I cashed out with a decent profit, but that set of 7’s losing to a flopped straight haunted me a bit all nite.  When I was cashing out and still chatting with Coach, Jack came up to say hi, he had not dealt at my table this nite. So I introduced him to Coach and told him that he was the “Jack” featured in many of my blog stories.  By the way, Coach, the next night Jack asked me why you didn’t play that night. I told him that you had been playing a lot lately, and just felt like sitting out that night.   But I know the real reason!

Is Queen/Jack the New Deuce/Four?

As I explained in this post,  I haven’t been having much luck in tournaments lately, and I decided to play in them less frequently.  So for my August trip to Vegas, I only played in three tournaments.  Here’s the story of the first one I played, the 1 PM Aria tournament, mid-week.

I like this tournament; it’s deepstack (10K in starting chips), and has 30 minute levels.  Pretty good value for $125. The competition is not easy, there are a lot of locals who play it regularly, they can be tough.  But there’s also plenty of tourists of various skills.  I’ve cashed in it a couple of times (see here and here).

When I first started playing deepstack tournaments, what I wanted was a long run, ie, getting a lot of play for my money.  I didn’t expect to cash, but I wanted to play hours of poker and hopefully learn from it.

No more.  These days, I have enough of a reasonable expectation of doing well so that I’d rather not play a long time and end up with nothing to show for it.  I’d rather bust out early than play for hours and not cash or just take a min cash.  Obviously one of these times I’d like to win the damn thing, but finishing in the top 3 or 4 or even doing a chop (like I did at Binions last year, see here) is the real goal, and I don’t think too unrealistic.

So although I am a nit tight player, I am starting to look for places where I can make a big score early, and am a lot less concerned about an early bust out than I used to be.  If I do bust out early, I’ll have the afternoon and early evening to play in a cash game, or whatever.  Not a problem.

But I’m a long way from perfecting (or even attempting) the loose-aggressive style where you keep making raisings with weak holdings and hope to make enough steals to make up for the times you get caught.  I’m still more comfortable waiting for a good hand, and try to make a few moves and steals along the way by learning other players’ styles.

Now, on this particular day, I started out extremely card dead.  I know I’ve claimed to be card dead before—name me a poker player who hasn’t—but this time it was really extreme.  I am absolutely certain this was the worst run of starting cards I’ve seen for an extended period in my entire poker playing experience.  For the first hour and a quarter, I was dealt not a single pocket pair. Not even a lousy pair of deuces.  Never saw two paint cards at the same time.  Aces?  Yeah, I had one of them a couple of times. With two exceptions, never with anything higher than a 7.  Yeah it was that bad.

The best two hands I had during this period were AQ and A10.  I raised with the AQ and had no callers, that was the only pot I won.  With A10, there was a big raise in front of me by a tight player, so I folded it.  And that was it for my “good hands.”

Yes, I was looking for places to steal, but I’m pretty careful (probably too careful) early in a tournament.  Until there are antes or the blinds start to get big, trying to get too fancy with a lousy hand in position seems too “high risk/low reward” for me.

But by now, I was getting somewhat antsy.  And I figured I had played so few hands in all this time, I could use my image to grab at least some chips, right?  When the button came to me, I vowed I would raise with anything if it was limped around.  I believe the blinds were 100/200, no ante.  Indeed, it was limped to me, only one caller, a tight player, female, in the hijack seat.

My hand was actually one of the better hands I’d seen so far, Ace/four offsuit.  A monster compared to most of the crap I’d been seeing.  I raised to $700.  I swear, I would have made the same move with 7-2 offsuit.  The blinds folded but the lady called.

The flop missed me and was King high, not particularly draw heavy. She checked and I made a continuation bet of $1K, praying to take it down there.  She thinks for a bit and calls.  Shit.

A blank on the turn and she checks again.  How many bullets do I want to shoot here? Well, I decided she probably wasn’t going to go away this time, so I checked behind her.  A blank on the river and she checked again.  I thought about betting there, thought about it a lot.  But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.  I checked behind her and she flipped over….Ace Queen.

Ace Queen?  Really?  How do you not raise there with Ace Queen?  I mean in a tournament; in a cash game, I can see it. In a tournament, in late position, no raises, you just limp with Ace Queen?

And why the heck did she call me on the flop?  With one lousy overcard?  Seriously.  And against a player who had played one hand all day prior and had raised preflop for only the second time that day?  Maybe I gave her too much credit.  Maybe she wasn’t a good enough player to notice how tight I had been playing.

Whatever, it really steamed me and also cost me some chips.  I was really feeling an early exit coming on.  So on the last hand before break I was on the button again with 9/3 offsuit.  No one had entered the pot, so I went for the steal with a raise.  The small blind calls, big blind folds.  Lucky for me, the flop came K93!  Small blind checks, and as I start to reach for chips, he mucks his cards before I even get a chance to bet.  Too bad I couldn’t get more value for that lucky flop.

After the break, my run of bad starting cards continued.  This time, by necessity, I took more chances and nothing worked.  I wasn’t quite in shove-or-fold territory yet, but I was close. So with Queen/Jack offsuit on the last hand before the second break, I figured I could take a chance, and if I busted out there, at least I wouldn’t have to wait through the break to start the rest of my day.  So indeed I shoved and someone called me.  With a pair of Kings.  Ugh.  Now of course, KK is my cursed hand, but when someone has it against me, it usually holds up.  And it without an overcard, it sure didn’t look good for me there.

So I was practically out the door as the dealer put the flop down.  No King but there was a Jack so I had hope.  When a Queen hit on the turn, I started to sit back down, but was internally betting that a King would be the river card.  Nope, it was a blank.  I had survived against the dreaded pocket Kings.  He had me well covered so it was a nice double up and gave me some chips to actually start playing some poker again with.

But I bled some chips and needed to make another move.  So I shoved with Q/J again.  A deep stack with Ace rag called.  Ace on the flop made things rough for me, but I hit runner-runner for the straight and doubled up. Again.  Starting to love that Queen/Jack!  Perhaps Queen/Jack could become my own personal deuce-four?

This was right before our table broke.  At the new table, directly to my left was a youngish guy with a ton of chips, and I soon saw why.  He was a very good player.  Running low on chips again, I found Ace/Jack of diamonds in late position.  I didn’t think I had to shove there, but I thought about it.  Instead I made a pretty decent raise.  Aforementioned player on my immediate left shoves!  He has a huge stack, has me covered several times over.  I was sure he could make that move with a lot of hands, just hoping to take the limpers’ chips and my big raise.  Since I was thinking of shoving there anyway and I thought his range was wide, it was a fairly easy call for me.  Besides, if I busted there, there was still time to do something else before heading over to BSC for the evening.

He flipped over pocket 10’s and was greatly relieved to see my A/J of diamonds.  No way he put me on that hand, he thought I’d have to have a bigger pocket pair to call him there.  He didn’t know I had evening plans :).  To his absolute horror—and my total delight—there was nothing but diamonds on the flop, three of them to be exact.  I had flopped the nut flush!  He now needed a miracle and didn’t get it.  I had doubled up again.

But boy was he pissed.  How could I make that call?  Really, how could I make it?  It was a sick call. I just smiled and stacked my chips.  No sense bothering to tell him I thought seriously about shoving first.  Meanwhile, someone else pointed out how lucky it was to hit the nut flush on the flop (no shit) and quoted what he thought the odds of it happening were.  I don’t recall what he said and have no interest in looking it up.  Look, I was of course incredibly lucky to flop the flush there, no doubt.  But the reality is, I had two overcards to his pocket pair, the classic “race” or coinflip.  He only on a slight edge preflop.  All I needed was a Jack or an Ace (and no 10); the flush was gravy.

Finally he said, “nice hand, sir” trying not very successfully to hide his sarcasm.

Just a few hands later, right before another break.  By now I’m starting to think my late afternoon plans are shot, I might as well cash in this thing.  In late position I had K-10 suited.  Thanks to my buddy to my left, I had enough chips so I didn’t have to shove there.  I could have raised, but decided with that iffy hand to just call and see what happened.  I thought a raise would too likely have been called the way the table was running.

My pal to my left raises a fair amount, but not a shove.  I don’t remember the details but it was a hefty raise; but with all the chips the guy had just passed me, I felt it was ok to call (and certainly not shove there).  Maybe I’d flop the nut flush again!  No, it was just the two of us to see a flop of K-Q-J, rainbow.  Not bad.  Top pair and an opened-ended straight draw.  I announced “all in.”

He tanked and I could pretty much see the steam coming out of his ears.  He had me covered but there was no way he wanted to risk losing the number of chips I bet.  He said, “King-10?  You have King-10?”  He thought for awhile and he said a few more times that he put me on King-10.  Then he folded.  Now, I normally never do this, but I felt like I had to “reward” him for calling my hand exactly right.  So I said, “Wow, for being dead on, I’ll show you” and showed him my King-10. He said, “that’s the only thing you could have had there.”  If you say so.  So he didn’t show but I asked him what he had and he said Ace-jack.  He couldn’t call my shove with bottom pair and a gutshot.

For the rest of the time he was next to me, he pretty much folded everytime I raised and called me a “luckbox”.  I didn’t care.  I was enjoying the thought that I might just cash now.  And although I left him somewhat crippled, he chipped up nicely.  As I said, he was a very good player.  But he kept saying that I was the one player at the table he couldn’t beat.  And credited it all to luck, which was, frankly, hard to dispute.

It was a weird tournament for me.  I was still mostly completely card dead, but it seems that on those rare occasions where I got a hand to play, the board hit me almost every single time.  Can’t complain about that!

By now the final table was in sight.  There were 85 runners—a dealer told me this was the smallest turnout in months—so nine would be paid.  I did indeed make it to the final table and we immediately agreed to each pay $15 to the bubble.  So I was assured of cashing.  Unfortunately my stack didn’t make it too likely I would get into the real money.  But bubble boy busted fairly soon, and then 9^th and 8^th place left.  I needed one or two more really lucky hands to do some serious damage.

And it seemed like now, someone was always shoving or raising before me, making it hard to try anything cute. But shoving with AK isn’t cute, right?  A lady who had a big stack when the table started but had been bleeding chips called me with K/J.  She had me covered.  Only thing that hit was an Ace so that gave me a little more life.  Still, being card dead was now risking me getting blinded off.  Then, suddenly 7^th place was settled and I was one of 6 left, so a pay day of $371 was the worst I could do.

A couple of orbits where I was just losing blinds and antes definitely left me short stacked. I was looking for a place to shove. A British bloke raised in late position, and I had Queen/Jack again. It had paid off nicely twice before, could I go three for three? Since this was the first two paint cards I’d seen together in some time, it was an easy decision to shove there. The British guy who raised called and showed 66. Two overcards, so could Queen/Jack save me again?

No.  Although there was a Queen on the flop, there was also a 6.  Ugh.  The other cards were meaningless and I was done.  It was a bit past 9PM when I got my $371 6^th place prize and headed off dinner.

So much for any late afternoon/early evening plans.  But even though it wasn’t the pay day I was hoping for, it was still nice to finally have some tournament success again.

((Edited to add:  For an explanation of what I should have called this post, see the follow up post here.    For a final report on this Aria tournament, and more on the bloke who busted me out of it, see here))

"I Never Would Have Put You on 2/3"

As I mentioned in my previous post, I was in Vegas last week.  This post revolves around what happened my second night in town, at BSC, and features a few characters I’ve mentioned before on the blog.

Upon arriving at the BSC poker room, I was sent to a short-handed table, I believe it had just been opened up.  I recognized one of the players already there.  It was Willie, who was the guy who caught me when he limped with pocket Aces (see here) and the guy I had a straight flush against not too long ago (see here).  Just as I was ready to get a hand, a new dealer pushed in.  It was Michelle.  As I’ve explained before (see here, for example), Michelle is a cute, very friendly dealer that I have a hard time winning a hand with.  Although we are pals, she has pushed me so few pots over the years that she once told me she owes me “100 pots.”  And since then, I’ve kiddingly kept track of how many she still owes me on those rare occasions when she actually does push the pot in my direction. This is such a running joke between us that I sometimes kid her that I’ll just take a break during her entire down.

This time, with the table short-handed, I had already inquired about what the rake would be and then asked what it would be if I sat out for all of Michelle’s down.  I was just kidding, of course.  It had actually been awhile since Michelle had dealt to me.  As I’ve mentioned, she’d much rather play than deal, and the last dozen or so times I’ve seen her at BSC she’s been playing, not dealing.  I commented about being surprised to see her actually dealing.  She told me she had sworn off playing and was only going to be dealing from now on.  Since I heard her make that statement at least a dozen times, I told her I didn’t believe it.  I might have said that in a more colorful way.

Anyway, Michelle started dealing and players began filling the seats.  While the table was short-handed, I actually did win a few very small pots, mostly when nobody called a flop bet.  None of these pots amounted to even $20. But unless it was just the blinds, I actually counted backwards on the pots she owed me, so I would say “83!”, then “82!” as she pushed me those small pots.  She commented thought that since it was mostly $1 chips in those pots, it was more like the 2/4 game I used to play than the NL game I was now playing.

By the time the table had filled up, I believe I had reason to say to her, “and that’s 81.”  So with the table finally full, in the small blind I was dealt 2/3 off suit. With about 6 limpers in front of me, I went ahead and added a buck to see the flop.  The big blind did not raise. 

The flop came A-10-2.  I checked, and Willie acted next and bet $10.  Three others called.  That made the pot $54 (before adjusting for the rake) when it came back to me.  With bottom pair, I figured I was getting a good price to see the turn card (dunno if that’s true or if it was a bad call.  It seemed like a decent call at the time).

The turn was another 2, giving me trips.  Nice.  So I led out with a $40 bet.  Willie called, and everyone else folded.

The river was a seemingly meaningless four, and I should add, no flush was possible. Willie is a good player, as I’ve indicated previously.  I was not sure what to do. I was kind of thinking there that he wasn’t going to call a bet unless he had the best hand.  I was tempted to check and see what he did.  But I figured I probably did have the best hand and that I should try to get some value for it.  I didn’t want to bet too much and scare him off, so I put out $50.

I really enjoyed the next minute or so, even as I was wondering if I was gonna take this pot or not.  Willie went into the tank and was clearly agonizing over the decision.  The fact that he didn’t call right away had me fairly convinced I had the best hand.  If he’s got the case deuce, that’s an insta-call if he doesn’t raise instead.  Based on the conversation he was having with himself, it was clear he wasn’t thinking of raising and it was clear he didn’t have the last deuce.

Since it was just the two of us, he was talking aloud about what I could have, speculating.  I guess he was probably trying to get a read on me by seeing how I reacted to his speculation.  I tried to remain totally stoic, and kept looking away.  I’m sure Willie is the type of good player who remembers me and has a pretty good read on my game.  Note to myself:  Next time I play heads up against Willie, remember what I just wrote and try to bluff—he’ll never see it coming.

He kept speculating that I had A/10.  “That’s the only thing I can put you on,”  He finally called.  I am pretty sure he felt that he was going to lose, but thought it was worth the $50 to see what I had there—and knew from the past I wasn’t going to show him if he didn’t call.

He mucked when I showed my hand.  I’m guessing he had an Ace with a weak kicker, maybe even a 4 so he caught 2 pair on the river.  But my hand totally shocked him.  “I never would have put you on that. You called $10 on the flop with a pair of deuces?”  It took some restraint on my part not to respond.  If he thinks I made a bad call, that’s to my (future) advantage, right?  No need to point out that there were three callers before I put that $10 in the pot, and if it had just been heads up there, I would have folded to his $10 flop bet like a cheap suit.  So I just smiled and said nothing.  I hope he doesn’t read my blog, since we’ll no doubt be facing each other again.  Actually, he might read the blog, since he’s as friendly with the BSC crew as I am and they may have mentioned it to him.

I did say one thing, but not to Willie.  To Michelle I said, “That’s 80!”  Then I added, “Who are you and what have you done with Michelle?  You can’t be her!”  She laughed, and then for the first time, she commented on the notebook I carry in my shirt pocket. I mentioned my shirt-pocket most recently in this recent post here.  The first post where I mentioned it--and explained it's purpose--about a provacative young lady who was driven crazy by it, can be found here.

“Do you keep track of the pots you win with that notebook?  Is that what it’s for?”  I started to pull out the notebook, “yes, that’s what it’s for.”

“Is it just for me, or do you track your wins with all the dealers?” By this time, I was ruffling threw the pages of the book to show her.  To my great fortune, it was a brand new book, so almost all the pages were totally blank.

“Just yours.  That’s why the book is mostly blank.”  She could see that all but one page was blank as I showed it to her.  Heh heh.

Anyway, Willie is a tough player, and besting him made me feel very good.  Also, confusing made me feel good too.  Especially since he is a great hand-reader.  When I first got to the table, he amazed some guy who laid down a pair of Jacks by telling him he had put him on Jacks.  But he sure as hell didn’t put me on 2/3 there.

I won another good sized pot—not against Willie—when I flopped a set of 9’s and had it turn into a boat when the board paired Jacks.  Later, there was a really weird hand against what I presumed to be a mother/daughter team.  The mother looked familiar; I’d seen her in the room before.  The daughter didn’t seem familiar to me.

There were some limpers, including the mother, two seats to my right on the button, and the daughter, one seat to the right on the small blind. In the big blind, I had Ace/King offsuit.  I raised an additional $12 to $14.  It folded back to the mom, who called.  Then the daughter announced, “all in.”  WTF?

She had over $140.  I had her well covered, but I’m not one to risk over $100 on just AK there.  The daughter had been a totally reasonable player up until then; if anything, I’d classify as more of a “nit” as anything else.  She’d never come close to making any kind of bet that big preflop before.  And if she had that good a hand, why did she only limp from the small blind before I raised?  And if she had a really, really good hand, how much value was she getting for her big raise?  The pot wasn’t that much to be so anxious to take it down there.  I couldn’t really put her on a hand that made sense, especially based on her play up until then.  For the record, I played with her another couple of hours and never saw her do anything like that again.  This hand was a total aberration for her.

I made it looked like it was a hard choice (not sure why I thought it was necessary), but I folded.  The hand bugged me for the rest of the night.  Since the only caller of my raise was her mom, I had to figure that had something to do with her action, tho I don’t know how.  It just struck me that it had something to do with it.  I was thinking, well, she had Aces and wanted to make sure her mom folded, but was hoping I had Kings or Queens and would call.  But why not raise before it got to me if that’s the case?  I obviously didn’t see every hand she played, but I never saw her limp with a big hand before or after this hand.  Anyway, it left a bad taste in my mouth, and I wish I knew what she had.  But I wasn’t prepared to pay $140 to find out.

To make things worse, later the father/husband of these ladies joined the table.  I lost a few chips to him when he flopped a boat and slowplayed it.  He had two queens, I had AQ and called his preflop raise.  I thought I was good when the flop came Q1010, so I bet out, and he smooth called.  Then I began to smell a rat.  I checked the turn as did he.  When he shoved on the river, I figured he had a 10 and folded.  I’m not going to go broke on top pair, top kicker there.  Unlike his daughter, he was kind enough to show me his QQ, so at least I knew I made the right play. He said he was surprised I folded.

A bit later, Ginger came to the table, this time as a dealer, not a player.  Of course, Ginger has been featured in a number of my posts lately, including my previous post (see here).  But since she was dealing she was totally professional, (and hence, not as much fun as in the previous post).  However, her friend Faith was playing over at the 2/5 game.  Faith has appeared in a few of my posts, most recently here.

So while Ginger is dealing at my table, I see Faith come by to whisper in her ear.  I didn’t hear what she said, but Ginger was kind enough to tell me. Apparently just then in the 2/5 game, Faith lost $1400 on pocket kings to a set of deuces.

Ouch.

Seriously, how do you risk $1400 on the worst hand in poker?  I mean, really? Faith needs to start reading my blog, don’t you think? Of course, Ginger didn’t have the details of how the hand played out.  But if the Kings didn’t improve, I dunno how risk that much on a pocket pair.Anyway, Faith was not happy.  But I understand she has a rich husband so it probably didn’t ruin her evening too much.

And I left the session up more than a buy-in, and didn’t get burned with the dreaded pocket kings, so it was a good night for me.