"You Couldn't Have a Set of 7's"

This one is about a good night at BSC, at the end of the first weekend of March Madness.  When I first got to the table, I found it was pretty much the softest 1/2 game I can remember being at in a long time.  How soft?  Well, if I had just played my normal game, I would have been the most aggressive player there. 

But I had been having a good trip until then, and it wasn’t just from my getting good cards.  I could tell I was playing better than usual, it seemed like my game was advancing.  I was getting better and better at reacting to situations and playing the table and the players.   So as I realized how soft this table was, I started making moves, making steals, raising with hands I don’t usually raise with.  Early on, almost none of this met with any resistance.  I kept winning a lot of small pots, but it was adding up.

At first, I was doing this in position, but then I got bolder.  A couple of times in limped pots, when I was first to bet, I’d lead out with a bet on a flop that looked like it probably missed everyone.  It had missed me too, but I bet anyway.  And I won a number of pots doing that.  In the first hour, I’d probably won as many pots with air at that table than I had in my entire NL career combined.  There was no one at this table to challenge me.  Eventually some better players replaced the weakest ones, and I had back off, but it was fun while it lasted. 

One time my move didn’t pay off was when I didn’t pay enough attention to a short stack.  In a hand with many limpers, including the short-stack, I had Queen-Jack offsuit on the button.  Looked like a good place to raise there, and I did.  It folded back to the short-stack, who shoved.  Damn, if I had called, he wouldn’t have had the chance to try his limp-shove move.  Of course, I hadn’t seen him do that before.  Still, I probably should have been more alert to his stack.  He had about $45-$50 and I wasn’t interested in risking that much with such a mediocre hand, so I let it go.

By the time my pal Heather came to deal, things had changed a bit and a few of my moves had been thwarted.  A seat opened up immediately to the dealer’s right, so I asked to move there.  Heather commented, “Oh, you wanted to be closer to me, huh?”  I laughed but that was just one more good reason for the seat change.

At one point, I had won about 3 out of 4 pots (mostly small) with her dealing, prompting me to say to her, “You know, if I you weren’t spoken for, I’d ask you to marry me.”  I know Heather’s boyfriend quite well.  She laughed and said, “You say that now, but as soon as you lose a hand, it’ll be all over.”

I agreed.  “Yeah, it would be short-lived.”

By now there were some loose aggressive players at the table.  One of them raised to $12 in middle position.  Another player called, so I decided to call with Ace-10 offsuit since I was on the button. That’s not a move I would normally make.   The flop came A-A-x.  Both players checked including the preflop raiser.   Hmm, he either didn’t like the Aces, or was slow playing a big hand.  I couldn’t not bet trip Aces.  I bet out $30.  Preflop raiser called, the other guy folded.

Seeming blank on the turn.  I bet out $50 and the guy called again.  What was he calling with?  When the river blanked too, he checked and I decided to play it safe (or chicken?) and just show my hand.  I thought he might have better Ace and/or was just waiting to check-raise me.  Probably not the way this guy would have played a better hand than mine, but…..well, one of the parts of my game I need to work on is value-betting the river.

As soon as he saw my hand, he mucked.  So either a weak Ace or perhaps a big pocket pair?  Whatever, I was happy to take it down.

I won a small pot with real dumb-ass luck when Heather accidentally flipped my card, a 6 of diamonds.  It was replaced with an Ace, giving me Ace-Jack. Nobody called my preflop raise, but there was a straddle and a bunch of limpers.  Had the 6 not been exposed, I would have insta-folded Jack-6, so that felt like ill-gotten gain.  I kept the chips anyway.

In one of the blinds I was dealt pocket Jacks.  Someone raised to $11, so, out of position, I just called, as did one other player.   The flop was low, and since I was first to act, I decided to bet out and see if the preflop raiser still liked his hand.  This is a move I would never had made even a month earlier.  Anyway, he apparently didn’t like it very much, and the flop bet won the pot for me.

As the evening was winding down, I somehow managed to accidentally piss off the guy to my right.  He was the small blind and just as I put out my big blind, the dealer sent him his first card, which hit my hand and flipped over.  It was an Ace.  So the dealer had to reshuffle and start over.  It took a second for the guy to realize what happened.  But then he said, “That was my Ace?  That was my card and you did that to me?”  I apologized of course.  I said the obvious, that I didn’t mean to do it.  He wouldn’t let it go.  “That was my Ace.”  He mucked the replacement hand in disgust, almost throwing his cards in.  “That would have been my Ace, instead I get 7-deuce!”

I apologized again but it was very odd.  The guy had been decent all night.  Surely he had seen enough poker to have seen this before, many times.  But I could tell by his behavior he wasn’t cooling off.  I could sense his hostility.  At this point, I was nearly finished with my session, so I strongly considered leaving and not playing for the couple of more orbits I intended to.  But then a seat opened up on the other side of the table, and before I could ask for it, he did.  I’m pretty sure he moved solely to get away from me, so I wouldn’t accidentally flip over any more of Aces!  Yeesh.

After a few more orbits, I was just about ready to call it a night.  I had been up at most about $140, but drip, drip, drip, I had lost most of the $40 part of that.  I still could leave up the $100, and there seems to be something “magical” about that—a triple digit profit.  Somehow, being able to book a $100 win is so much nicer than booking a $95 win.

Anyway, up just barely over $100, with a stack of $300, I decided the current orbit would be my last.  I threw away garbage hand after garbage hand until, on what was to be my second to last hand, I looked at pocket 6’s.  I limped in with them from under-the-gun plus one.  Two callers, then the small blind made it $10.

Ugh.  The two bucks I limped in with kept my profit over $100.  But to call, I’d have to dip below it.  Oh well, facing the likely prospect of a $40 preflop pot, I had to call.  So much for my triple-digit profit.

The other two other limpers called.  One was a British player, who was fairly new to the table, but he had shown signs of being the stereotypical aggro Euro.  He had about $200 in front of him.  The other caller was also European, Norwegian, I think.  I’d played with him for hours and he was a bit aggressive, but not in the extreme.  Seemed like a solid player.  He had about $275 in front of him. 

The flop came Jack-7-6, two diamonds.  Preflop raiser checked.  I bet $30 with my bottom set.  The Brit fumbles with his chips for a bit, making me think he might be raising, but he called.  Norwegian guy makes it $75.

Yeah.

Preflop raiser folds.  What do I do there?  The other two guys seemed to really like the flop.  But I had a set.  Did anyone have a bigger set?  Were they betting draws?  Top pair?  Two pair seemed unlikely.  Set-over-set did indeed seem more likely.  Damn.

I couldn’t put the Norwegian on a set of Jacks.  He would have raised with Jacks.  But a set of 7’s was very possible.

So much for my $100 profit.  I forgot about that and tried to figure out the best move.  Calling was perhaps the safe play.  Maybe I could keep some of my money if it was indeed set-over-set.

Or was raising the safest play?  Chase away the flush and/or straight draws?  Or try to?

As I considered my move, I thought about the situation.  Screw the $100 profit, that was gone.  If I lose it all there, I’m done for the night—I was only going to play one more hand anyway—and all I would have lost, in reality, is one buy-in.  Losing one buy-in when I had a set in a set-over-set situation, well, I could live with that.  That’s poker, right?  I was prepared to do that.

Then the only question was—how to maximize value if indeed I did have the best hand?  Should I have just called there, to get more money on the turn and the river?  Or should I shove there?  If I raise big there—a shove—do only better hands than mine call me?  Was that the right move?

I don’t know, and I’d like some opinions on that.  But what I decided was—if I’m willing to put my entire stack on the line (or most of it), I might as well do it now. 

“All in,” I said.

The thing I didn’t want to hear from either of the other two was a snap call.  The Brit took a long, long time to decide.  That was relief #1.  It looked like he was gonna call (I had him covered, so it would be his entire stack), but he folded.

As soon as he sent his cards forward, I waited for the Norwegian to say “call.”  But he didn’t.  Pretty sure that even if he has “only” middle set there, he snap calls.  Relief #2.  I figured I must be ahead.

He started talking to me.  “What do you have?  What could you have?......You don’t have a set of 7’s do you?  You couldn’t have a set of 7’s”

No, I didn’t, but of course I said nothing and hoped I had on my best poker face, as I stared off in the distance.  But it sure sounded like he didn’t have a set of 7’s either.  He kept talking, kept thinking, kept talking about a set of 7’s.  He must have either asked me if I had a set of 7’s, or said I didn’t have a set of 7’s, at least five times.  He played with his chips the whole while.  He was clearly in agony over this decision.  I became convinced he was gonna fold, which was ok by me.  The pot was around $175 and I would have been happy to take it down there.

But no, the guy finally called.  We didn’t show.   The turn was a black 10.  The river was a red Ace, but not the Ace of diamonds.

I flip over my hand and the dealer says, “set of 6’s……he didn’t have a set of 7’s, he had a set of 6’s.”  

The guy stared at my cards for a few seconds and mucked without showing.  It was well over a $550 pot, with about $300 of it being profit for me.  The dealer, one of my buddies, got a nice tip!

I asked the guy what he had, which I suppose was rude of me.  He was not happy, to say the least.  “What do you think I had?”

I said, “You didn’t just have top pair, did you?”  That got him more upset, and he said he no, somehow implying that he had 2 pair.  I kind of wondered what he was doing with 2 pair on that flop, why he would have called a raise.  Maybe 6-7 suited?

Anyway, the Brit expressed surprise at my hand, and was very surprised at my shove on the flop.  He said he was surprised I played it like that.  I guess he meant I wasn’t getting good value for my set with the shove? That’s why I’m looking for feedback on the hand.

Then he said that he had the nuts on the turn!  He said he was gonna call if I had just called, but he couldn’t call my shove.  And he would have hit it and won the huge pot if I had just called.  That doesn’t mean I made the right move, only that it worked out in this particular situation.  I later found out that he had the open ended straight draw (not a flush draw) and the turn gave him the straight.  He had 9-8, so he folded an open-ender.  He also told me the guy I stacked told him he had Jack-7.

If that’s true, well, that’s what you get for calling a raise with Jack-7. 

I decided to avoid the “hit-and-run” and play one more orbit.  I didn’t get any cards to play, which I was ok with.  I cashed out with a nearly $400 profit from the session, 3/4’s of that came on that one hand. 

It was after I cashed out and I was hanging around the room, kind of enjoying myself, that I saw the Norwegian guy leave (he re-bought immediately after he lost to me) that I got the info I did from the British guy.  Nice guy.  I was hoping I’d see him again later in the trip, but I never did.

Didn’t see the Norwegian guy again either.  I wonder if he’s thinking, “Well, at least I was right that he didn’t have a set of 7’s”?

((Note, I posted the big hand as a topic of discussion on the AVP forums, and most of the responses thought I played it right.  You can check it out here.  Feel free to comment there, or below, or both))

"If You Play Poker on Fremont St., You Have to be Nude"

This was going to be my first appearance at Binion’s since I published the three-part post that started here.  And yes, I was a little nervous about it.  Maybe more than a little.  How would Audrey react? More importantly, how would Denise react?  Or had she even seen those posts?  I wondered.  Unlike Audrey, who I figured was a regular reader, I assumed Denise probably only read the blog when Audrey gave her the heads up that my post would be of interest to her.  Perhaps Audrey wouldn’t be so eager to tell Denise about my lengthy discussion of her, well, chest.

Despite having decided to go ahead and publish the entire story—after being convinced by my friends that it was ok—I couldn’t help wondering if it had been a mistake as I anticipated playing in the Weekend Deepstack.  In the final chapter of that post, I even speculated that “I might never be able to set foot in Binion’s again.” 

I went in with a simple plan.  Speak only when spoken to, and try to avoid eye contact.  Unlike the last two times I saw Audrey, I would not ask her any questions about the blog.  The last thing I intended to do was ask her if she saw my post about her and Denise.  If she wanted to bring it up to me, if she had the chance, that was ok, but I wasn’t going to say anything about it. 

As for Denise, I would try not to look at her straight on, just out of the corner of my eye to see if I could detect any reaction towards me at all.  Yes, I admit it.  I was a bit paranoid. 

But my plan was somewhat changed when Prudence decided to join me at the tournament at the last minute.  This was a pleasant surprise.  Prudence had never played poker at Binion’s before, and of course had heard me talking about this tournament many times.  Based on the comment Audrey had made to me when I first found out she knew about my blog, I knew if I had the chance, I had to introduce Prudence to her.  That meant I had to go out of my way to speak to Audrey, which was not my original plan.

Once again, I picked up Prudence and we went to Binion’s together.  We had time before the tournament started, and as we were walking around, I spotted Denise in the distance.  I had to point her out to Prudence as the dealer whose physical appearance I had spent so much time blogging about.  Denise may or may not have noticed me, but if she did, she had no reaction to me whatsoever.  That’s a reaction I’m used to from attractive women, and in this case, it was actually welcome.

When Prudence found her assigned seat, it turned out that the first dealer at her table was none other than Audrey.  She saw me talking to Prudence and said hi to me.  This was perfect.  I was then able to introduce Prudence to her.  “Audrey, this is Prudence.”  I kind of whispered it.

She said hello and then confirmed what I had told her, she didn’t know her.  Prudence didn’t recognize Audrey either.  See, despite how small the Vegas poker world is, there are actually dealers and players who don’t know each other.

Well, Denise started the tournament one table away from mine.  That meant her second down was at my table.  Just my luck, I had failed to bust out during the first 1-1/2 levels. 

But she had no reaction to me that I could discern whatsoever.  Instead, she was bickering and bantering with the guy who was in seat 10.  Although I didn’t recognize him, he must have been a regular, and they apparently had some kind of history.  Almost before she sat down, he said something to her and she said, “Don’t start with me.”  It was kind of a relief for me that someone else had her ire.

The guy wasted no time in starting with her, though.  He tried to help her with a hand, and soon they were joking (I guess) about what the winning hand was.  She sarcastically asked if a full house beat a flush before pushing a pot to someone.  Then he told her that a flush beats a straight a few hands later.  It was hard to tell how much of this was in fun and how much of this was actual unpleasantness.  But another time she was about to push someone a pot and she said to the guy, “Is that OK with you, that I give him this pot?  Do you approve?”

Before she started “asking” for his help, he had volunteered it, and she referred to him as “the Table Captain.”  She didn’t mean it as a compliment.  A few minutes later we overheard a player at the next table over trying to tell the dealer how to handle a situation, and she said to us, “See, there’s one at every table.”  I knew from the time she told us about Poker Genius that she found players telling her how to do her job especially annoying (see here).      

This took place on St. Patrick’s Day, and the cash room had a promo going regarding quad Jacks.  Depending on when you hit the quads, you could get up to $10,000, I believe.  She said, “That’s the only way to win with Jacks.  Flop quads.  I tell you, I’ve never won with them.”  I thought about saying something about pocket Kings, but was trying to avoid any references to the blog at all costs.

The following Saturday, Binion’s had planned on a special “Super Saturday” tournament, where they were upping the guarantee from $10K to $25K for a slight increase in the buy-in (from $125 to $160).  The staff was talking about a possible turnout of over 300 runners (usually they get 100-125, or thereabouts).  The players were wondering where they were gonna put so many players.

Well, outside the tournament room is another tournament room, that is usually used only for the Binion’s Classic, I believe.  There’s a whole bunch of empty tables out there that I see every week.  Obviously, that’s where the overflow would play, and Denise explained that to the players.

Then the guy in seat 10 joked, “They’re even gonna have tables out on Fremont St.”

To which Denise responded, “Yeah, but if you play out on Fremont St., you have to be nude.”

Yes, that’s what she said.  I swear.  It was totally out of the blue, for her to bring up players playing nude.  It did not follow from the conversation we were having. But that’s what she said.

I should point out that, of all the tournaments in Vegas where you don’t really want to think about the players playing naked (and that’s pretty much of all them), this particular tournament  is probably #1 on that list.  The average age of the players at this tournament is at least 10-15 years older than most other tournaments I’ve played.  The regulars who play this tournament are old.  And of course, like most poker tournaments, mostly male.  Who the hell wants to see old men naked?

Denise, apparently.  Hmm, I wonder….no, never mind.

The guy immediately asked if that included the dealers.  That was actually a thought that occurred to me as I was pondering Denise’s odd comment.  Because, as I mentioned here, there are a lot of really attractive female dealers for this tournament, much more so than in most poker rooms and most poker tournaments.

If it had been any other dealer than Denise, I probably would have commented there, but I was keeping my mouth zipped.  Denise said, no, not the dealers.  Just the players.

Then she added, “My opinion on that is, nobody looks better nude than they do with their clothes on. Nobody.”

Ok, again, I just bit my tongue.  I so wanted to interject, “Well, there are some exceptions.”  I would have said that to any other female dealer who had made such a comment.  But not her, not then.

((Note: the woman depicted above is Emily Ratajkowski.  No, she was not present at this tournament, sad to say.  She is a model and I’m using her as an example of someone who, despite what was claimed above, looks even better nude than she does dressed.  I don’t put nude pics on this blog because, well, it would be wrong.  However, I just heard about this thing called “Google” and it exists so that you can actually find pictures of certain people in their birthday suits on the internet.  Who knew?  Anyway, if you use this nifty new invention, you should be able to locate pictures of Emily wearing less than she is wearing in the pictures above and below, and I believe might just agree with me that there are indeed some people who actually look better nekkid than dressed.))

I think I may have said one or two rather innocuous things to her that were totally within the context of the game and the table conversation, but the one thing I do recall was when she was complaining about players trying to help her run the game.  I said, “You know what you should do when that happens?  Just whip out an application and hand it to them and say, ‘Here.  If you want to be dealer, you can apply’”  She really liked that idea, saying she’d love to do that.

And then she moved to the next table and I never saw her again….on this day.  Rest assured that both the Super Saturday tournament and Denise will be featured prominently in a future blog post.

I guess that means we’ve come to the poker portion of this blog post, for those of you are interested in such things.

The tournament didn’t really start for me until after the first break.  That’s because before the break, I was totally card dead.  I really might as well have taken all four levels off, I had nothing to play.  An aggro at the table who was raising quite a bit made it impossible to play a hand with the crap I was getting.  I think I got one decent hand and raised and took a small pot with a continuation bet (I couldn’t remember the hand I got the next day).  That was it.

Things changed after the break, though.  The first noteworthy hand I had King-10 offsuit on the button.  There were a bunch of limpers so I raised.   Two callers.  The flop is 9-8-7 rainbow, giving me the open ender.   I made the continuation bet and one player called, an older woman who I remember from the first time I ever cashed in this tournament—she was one of the six of us who chopped first place (see here).  The turn card was 6, completing my straight, though I had to worry about the Jack/10.  She thought about it a long time, but finally called.  Blank on the river and I bet out again.  She hesitated, called, then mucked when I showed my straight.  That was almost a double up for me.

Then I raised with pocket 9’s, and two players shoved.  However, they were both short stacked and the bigger of the two had only slightly more than double my original raise.  It was an easy call (one of the shovers was the woman in the last hand).  One of them had Ace-3 and the other had Queen-Jack.  So I had a lot of cards to dodge.  And I dodged them all, my 9’s held up against three over cards.  Another nice pot, plus I busted out two players.  I made a joke that this was a bounty tournament, wasn’t it?

The weird thing about this tournament for me was that the only pocket pairs I ever got were either Aces or deuces.  Nothing in between.  I never caught a set with the ducks.  Most of my Aces didn’t get a call of my preflop raise, or I took it down with a c-bet. 

One of the times I got Aces was after the aggro at the table had raised something like 10 hands in row.  I’m not really exaggerating.  So I was just waiting for him to unleash his 11^th straight preflop raise so I could three bet him with my rockets.  But damn if he didn’t pick this one time to just limp in.  I had to raise myself, and he was the only caller.  The flop was King high and he folded to my flop bet.

Not long after I got Aces again.  This time he did raise.  But he didn’t call my three-bet!

And then I returned to card-deadness.  The blinds were dipping into my stack, and for every “move” I made that worked, one or two didn’t.  My tournament life was in jeopardy, but I just wasn’t busting out fast enough. 

Then came the moment in the tournament when I choked.

I don’t mean that I played a hand badly.  I mean I choked.

Literally.

During the coming break, I knew I had to get something to eat, it had just been too long since I’d eaten anything.  So on the break I grabbed a hot dog at the deli right next to the tournament room.  The breaks are only 10 minutes long, so I took the hot dog back into the tournament area, sat down at a spare chair in the back, and proceeded to wolf down the dog.

Not sure what happened.  But I bit off too big a piece and it slid down my throat before I chewed any of it.  It must have squirted out of the bun as I tried to bite into it.  And it got caught in my throat. 

I was able to breathe, cough and even speak, so I guess I wasn’t really in serious danger, but I couldn’t get the piece of hot dog down my throat.  I ran over to my seat where I still had some diet coke left, and tried to wash it down.  That only made me choke more, and I started spitting up the diet coke.  But it got me coughing real good and the piece of hot dog came out of my throat, and out of my mouth.  I realized what was happening and was able to catch the meat in my hands so I didn’t spit it on anyone.  And then I made it over to a trash can and threw away the piece of dog. 

Ugh.  It was embarrassing, not to mention a little scary.  But I was fine, other than my throat feeling terrible.  The hot dog being stuck in my throat that long made my throat sore, and the rest of the night I just couldn’t get enough liquid to soothe my throat.  I was fine by the next day.

And yes, dammit, I was actually able to eat the rest of the hot dog.  In little bitty, tiny pieces.

Back to the tournament, where my stack was almost gone.  I was in shove-or-fold mode, and won a few blinds & antes with shoves, but I needed a bigger score to have much hope.

So of course I was dealt the dreaded pocket Kings in early position.  Believe it or not, this was actually the first time I’d seen KK since the time I won with them all three times I got them at the Bike (see here).  I wondered if my luck with them was still good.

I had barely enough chips so I could have conceivably only raised, and not shoved.  If I had gotten Aces I would have made a reasonable raise instead of a shove, hoping to get one caller.  But I decided not to do that with the Kings.  I didn’t want someone with a big stack and an Ace to call,  So I shoved.

An old guy with a stack about the size of mine also announced all in.  No one else came in.  I turn over my Kings and the old guy turns over his….pocket Aces.  Yeah, the ol’ Aces vs Kings trick (see here).  As it happens, that last time I’d gotten Kings at the Bike session, I ran into Aces but caught my set.

Not this time.  The board hit neither of us.  The dealer counted our stacks and the old guy had me covered by a tiny bit.  I was done.

Meanwhile, Prudence, after having some early success, had gone to hell after the first break and busted out long ago.  I texted her and she was playing penny slots at the Golden Nugget.  She said she’d be right over so we could get out of there and I sat in the poker room waiting for her.

It gave me plenty of time to think about my favorite hand.  The dreaded Pocket Kings.  At one point, Paul, the tournament director walked past me, and realized I must have busted out.  He offered his condolences as he went by.  I said, “My Kings lost to Aces.”

He said, “You had Kings?”

“Yep,”

He said, “You hate that hand, don’t you?”

Uh huh.  I confirmed that I did, and of course realized that Paul must be familiar with the blog to have known that.

Always nice to discover another blog reader.  Well, almost always.

(Edited to add:  Follow up to this story with Denise took place a week later, and you can find that story here.)

Probably Not a Reader of My Blog

She Had Him on a Short Leash

Finally I can start blogging about my most recent Vegas trip.  I fear I will not have all the stories posted before my next trip, which is just a couple of weeks away.  Actually, I’m afraid I won’t even have gone over all of my voice notes for the March trip before I return to Sin City.

But I’ll get to them all. eventually.

So let’s start at the beginning, my first night in time.  I was very happy that Prudence was going to join me; in fact, it initially appeared that she would be joining me most nights.  Alas, she didn’t join me for as many as either of us would have liked for reasons I don’t care to elaborate on.

Anyway, on my first night in town, Prudence and I met for dinner and then we drove over to BSC together.  Prudence had been taking a break from poker so everyone at BSC was thrilled to see her. 

We immediately got into a game together, and after a brief period we were able to sit next to each other for most of the night, so we were could exchange gossip easily.  Most of that gossip, sorry to say, will stay between us. 

Prudence got off to a bad start pokerwise when she found herself looking at the dreaded pocket Kings under-the-gun plus one.  You would think that knowing me for so long, and having read my blog, she would have known how to play them and just immediately mucked her hand.  But no, dear Prudence somehow believed the bullshit that was the second best starting hand in hold’em and led out with a strong bet of $30.  I guess the reason she made the bet so big was that the guy to her right had straddled on that hand.

The straddle called and no one else did.  Prudence made a big bet on a rather innocuous looking flop after the straddler checked  He called.  The board paired innocent looking 4’s on the turn, and while I don’t remember the betting sequence, the two of them were all in after that.  The river was a blank and Prudence’s Kings were smoked by the straddler’s mighty 10-4.

Yeah, the guy had called a $26 raise with 10-4.  Offsuit, I might add.  When Prudence questioned that strategy (as she reached into her purse for more funds), he simply shrugged and said, “I had to defend my straddle.”

As you might imagine, Prudence spent a good portion of the rest of the night grumbling about this guy.  But don’t forget about him.  He’ll be back.

At one point I went to use the Men’s Room.  As I was finishing washing my hands, I heard some commotion and saw something a bit odd.  Right outside the doorway area (there’s no actual door for these restrooms, but there’s a corner that protects it from being out in the open), there was a disagreement taking place between a guy and a girl.  It appeared the guy was trying to come in to use the Men’s Room, and the woman wouldn’t let him.  Or, perhaps more accurately, wouldn’t let him out of her sight.  The guy was telling the girl that she couldn’t come in any further—in fact, she had already come in a bit too far—but the girl would have none of it!

So the guy said, “You can’t come in here!” and she replied, “I’m not going anywhere.  I’m not leaving.  I’m staying right here.”  And she leaned up against the corner, where she was visible to any guy using the sinks, and she could at least see that part of the restroom.  She wasn’t looking in, however.  Once the guy got away from her in order to do his business, she took out her cell phone and began talking to someone.  “Yeah, she’s in the Ladies Room.  I’m in the Men’s Room.”  I didn’t hear the rest, But she was telling someone that she was in the Men’s Room, which she kinda was.

The girl was wearing one of those standard issue “going to a club” dresses that you see on virtually all young or youngish females that time of night.  It was gold lamé, extremely short and extremely tight.  Frankly, she really didn’t have the figure for a dress that tight, if you ask me (but she didn’t).  She was a bit heavy for it, and really, it wasn’t a particularly good look.  So this poor guy was not only stuck with a—dare I say it?—crazy bitch for a date that night, but one who was failing miserably in her attempt to look sexy.  I have no idea if the guy had done something to deserve this sort of treatment, of course.  But one thing was certain; the girl in the too-tight dress was keeping her guy on a very short leash.

That was the thought I had when I left the Men’s Room and when I told the story to Prudence, she had virtually the same comment about the short leash.  I should point out that the next night, I made a point to check to see what the gal could see from where she was standing.  It appeared that, if she was interested in that sort of thing, she could probably have seen a couple of guys using the urinals in the mirrors over the sinks.  

Of course, this is far from the first time I’ve seen a woman in a Men’s Room in Vegas.  My best story about that appears here, but there was a period there where it seemed like I’d encounter just that situation at least once a trip.  I’m sure if I scoured my old hand written notes I could come up with a couple of stories of that scenario for the blog. 

Back at the table, Prudence was making a comeback with her favorite trick, pulling a Jack out of her ass at the last possible instant (hmmm, that sounds a lot dirtier than it really it is).  I know there are one or two posts on this blog about how she got it all in with pocket Jacks vs pocket Aces, and managed to river the needed Jack to complete the suck out.  Last time I checked, though I couldn’t locate those posts, dammit.  (Edited to Add:  Fellow Blogger FlushDraww came through and actually located the two posts I was talking about and put them in his comments below.  You can find them here and here.  Thanks, FD!)  Anyway, this time she got it all in with JJ against a guy who had Ace-King.  A king on the flop put her stack in jeopardy, but sure enough, she got the set she needed on the river. 

This led Prudence to tweet out, “I am considering a new tattoo where two jacks are sailing in a canoe on a big blue river.”  I tweeted back, asking for the proposed location of this tat.  She responded “On one of my cheeks.  Can you guess which one?”  I of course replied, “The left one?”

Yes, we were sitting right next to each other and could have just had this conversation between us, but it was so much more fun to share it with the twitterverse.

Prudence began indulging in adult beverages at some point.  The alcohol may have been kicking in when someone asked if she was professional player.  She said, “No, I’m just f***ing one.”  Then she caught herself.  “Actually, no, we got married, so I’m not f***ing him anymore.”

Later in the evening, a guy sat next to her and immediately starting chatting her up.  And by chatting her up, I mean, trying to get her to do to him what she claimed she was no longer doing to her husband.  Prudence showed off her wedding ring and told the guy she had very recently gotten married and was quite in love with her husband.  The guy persisted.  He tried to get her phone number so he could text her a flier for his business—a business she had no interest in.  She then said, rather loudly so that everyone at the table could hear it, “Listen to this guy.  He’s trying to get into my pants.  I just got married and he’s trying to get into my pants!”  That inhibited his pathetic attempts at seduction only slightly.

This guy was a bit of a character.  Later he ordered a sandwich.  At BSC, they will deliver food to you while you play from the nearby deli.  It is ordered and picked up by chip-runner or a dealer on brush. 

He ordered the sandwich and then was very upset when they didn’t give him any barbeque sauce for it.  He hadn’t asked for it, but he either knew or assumed they had some.  He actually called the shift supervisor over and asked him to “radio the deli” to send over some barbeque sauce.  Prudence and I had a good laugh over that.  Somehow, he got his barbeque sauce (I’m guessing they actually sent a dealer or a chip runner back over there to get it).  “Don’t forget the barbeque sauce” became a running gag between Prudence and I the rest of the trip.

I suppose at this point you must be wondering if I myself actually played any poker this night.  Yes, yes I did.  And rather successfully, as it happens.  The night started out slowly for me, as I was completely card dead for well more than an hour.  I managed to win one small pot and was otherwise playing so few hands that I was actually slightly in the black when I finally got a hand.

With a little more than my $200 buy-in in front of me, I was dealt pocket Aces in early position.  Of course I raised. I only got one caller, an aggro guy wearing a New York Mets cap.  He and Prudence had been battling all night, it seemed like he was in every hand she was in, and she was commenting about that fact, as she is wont to do.  The guy had been raising quite a bit preflop, and never seemed to limp.  If he got into a pot, he either called a raise or entered with a raise.

The flop came King high, two diamonds.  The other two cards were fairly low.  I guess I bet out about $15 and he came over the top with a bet of $30 or so.  Hmm.  I’m fairly adverse to losing a lot of chips with just an overpair, even the best overpair there is, but I had to consider the source.  He was such an aggro player that I had to believe there was a good chance I was comfortably ahead.  He might do that with Ace-King, or any King.  Sure he could have hit a set, but I felt should call and see another card.

I liked the next card, which was an Ace, and not the Ace of diamonds.  So with my set of Aces I led out with a bet of $35.  I’m kind of guessing at that, I didn’t write it down and wasn’t sure the next morning when I did my notes.  Seems like too small a bet.  Anyway, he raised to something like $80 or so, which was fine with me.

With the stack I had left and the size of the pot, a shove was my only option and I was more than happy to do it.  I stopped myself from insta-shoving there.  I decided to Hollywood it up just a bit.  I wanted him to call.  So I waited and acted like I was thinking it over.  I even looked at my cards to make it look like I wasn’t sure what I had.

And then I softly said, “all in.”  The guy took his time.  He asked the dealer for a count.  I seem to recall the amount being $138 which seems about right.  The guy had me covered by just a small amount of chips.  He finally called.

The river was a blank and I flipped over my Aces.    Mets Cap Guy just mucked. He said, “You dodged a lot of bullets.”  As I started stacking my chips, I said, “I liked the turn.”  I didn’t expect a response but he said, “I liked the turn too.  Like I said, you dodged a lot of bullets.”

I didn’t pursue it, but the dealer said, “So, you had like 12-14 outs huh?”  The guy nodded.

Hmm…..well, assuming he had Queen-Jack of diamonds, the Ace would have given him the gut shot in addition to a flopped flush draw.  That would make 12 outs.  I couldn’t account for more than that.  I didn’t see an open-ender on the board at any time.

Whatever, he had played his draw very aggressively and it didn’t work out.  He might have gotten me to fold on the flop with his raise….except I had him pegged as an aggressive player who wasn’t necessarily betting the best hand. 

Anyway, it was a damn nice double up for me.

A little later I won a little pot against one of the regulars.  I’ve played with this guy many times before and I know he is a professional grinder who hangs out a lot on Two Plus Two.  He’s usually friendly but can get a bit grumpy when he’s losing.  In the big blind I had 5-3 spades and no one raised, a number of players had limped, I got to see a free flop.

Two spades on the flop, the 6 and the 2.  So not only did I have a flush draw, but I had the gut-shot straight draw and even the gut-shot straight flush draw.  When the 2+2 guy led out with an $8 or $10 bet, it was easy to call (I had checked at first) with so many cards out there that would help me.  I think one other guy called.  The turn was a blank and I wasn’t sure how much of a bet I’d call with only one more card to come.  I checked, the other guy checked and then, to my surprise, 2+2 guy checked behind us.  So I was lucky, I got to see a free card.

I missed my straight flush but the 9 of spades gave me the baby flush.  I’m always a little worried in that situation that someone has a better flush, but I led out with a bet ($20 or $30?).  The other guy insta-folded and 2+2 guy thought about it for awhile.  Then, in disgust, he mucked and started muttering to himself.  Prudence heard him saying, “I shoulda bet the turn.”

I had a couple of hands against Prudence’s 10-4 offsuit buddy.  In early position I raised to $8 or $10 with Ace-Jack offsuit.  He was the only caller. Flop was Queen-Jack-10, two of a suit that I didn’t have.  I probably would have made a continuation bet no matter what, but I actually had something—middle pair and a gutshot draw to Broadway.   I bet $15 and he raised to $40.  Hmm…..did he have a draw?  Had he somehow already made a straight?  King-nine was possible but I suspected this guy would have re-raised my preflop raise with Ace King.  I knew this guy was also aggro so I called.

The turn was a King, and not of the flush suit.  I had the nuts at that point.  I put out $100.  I was surprised when he called.  I thought the King would scare him into folding, and if not, it would mean he had the same hand and we’d chop.  In which case he might have re-raised just to be sure.  But he just called.

The river blanked, no pair, no flush card.  Nothing could beat my hand.  I shoved.  Probably not the smartest play.  He folded, but was there a bet I could have made that he might have called?  I doubt it in this case.  He said something about missing his draw when he mucked.  So he likely wasn’t calling any bet there.  Still, I should have been more thoughtful and tried to make a bet he would have called if he had something beyond a missed draw.

One more nice hand against this guy (I guess I was getting Prudence’s revenge for her—not that I offered any of the money I won from him, which was once hers, back).  Pocket Aces again.   Again, he was one of two callers to my preflop raise.  King high flop, with another paint card and a low card, rainbow.  First to act, I bet $30.  He was immediately to my left so raised to $100!

The other player folded.  I thought he might be making a move or betting a draw.  I just didn’t feel like he was ahead of me.   But if he was on a draw, I didn’t want him to have good odds.  So I shoved.  I had him well covered, he had about $200 or so left after his bet.  He folded fairly quickly, saying “I guess pocket 10’s weren’t good there?”  I guess not.

After these hands I was up over $450 for the night.  That was great, but I knew I had to monitor myself to see if I was afraid to play right because I was overly eager to “book the win” (see here).  At first I was ok, mostly because I wasn’t getting any cards to play in almost any situation.  And when I did get some playable hands, I played them the way I normally would.  This got my profit down to close to $400. 

Then I got Ace-King in middle position with two limpers already.  I didn’t hesitate to raise and made it $12.  Then things got interesting.

The guy on the button re-raised to $36.  Hmmm…..Despite his ethnic background that might possibly make you think otherwise (see if you can guess, hint here), he was not at all an aggressive player.  He’d been there about an hour and hadn’t raised very often, limping into most of the pots he’d played.  And this was definitely his first three-bet that I had seen.

It folded back to me.  What do I do there?  I’m not in love with Ace-King.  And from my experience, when you see someone three-bet in a 1/2 game, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him three bet, you can pretty much put him on one of two hands.  Pocket Aces or Pocket Kings.  Yeah, Queens, Jacks or even 10’s are possible.  So is Ace-King, maybe.  But my gut tells me it’s 80%-90% AA or KK. 

The only possible hand I can put him on that I’m not behind is AK and I’m not making any money if that’s what he has, barring a flukey flush.  To me, there’s an 80%-90% chance if I hit my hand, it hits him harder. 

I never considered a call. If I like the flop, I still don’t know where I am.  What about a re-raise?  Well, he had about $150 in front of him and I had about $600.  So if he had Queens or less, or AK, I suppose I could bet enough to get him to fold.  But he’s not likely good enough to fold Kings (see here) no matter how much I bet.  And he’s not folding Aces unless he not only sees my hand but can see into the future and knows the flop is coming QJ10.

So, I thought raising was –EV.  Reluctantly I folded.

Prudence had missed that hand and I didn’t get to discuss it with her until the ride back to her place.  But I couldn’t stop thinking about, wondering if I made the right play.  And as important, I wondered if my folding there was indicative of my getting too conservative, being too cautious in trying to book the win and not giving myself a chance to win.  If I had left then, I would have started my very first session of the trip up over $400 and that was sounding pretty good.

I couldn’t convince myself that I played that hand too tight—but I wasn’t 100% sure.  Then came the hand that convinced I me should have quit.  In middle position, I had Jack-10 spades.  A bunch of limpers were already in.  It was a perfect position to make a raise there, and I had done that with a similar hands a few times earlier, stealing a few pots but having to give up on others.  I should have raised, but no, I just limped.  The button raised to $10 (too little with all the limpers, I think).  It was the same guy who three bet me when I had AK.  Everyone who had limped called, so of course I did too, the pot was really big preflop now. 

The flop was Jack high and 2 diamonds (one spade).  I felt myself almost checking there, but I figured I had to bet out to see if my top pair was any good.  Maybe the preflop raiser had a big Ace and would fold.  So I bet out $25—which was too small for the pot, which was $50-$60.  The preflop raiser counted out the call, then counted out more chips and made it $75. It folded back to me and I wasted little time in folding. 

I wasn’t concerned with the fold, I was sure that was correct.  But I realized I had played that hand not to lose, instead of to win.  I should have raised preflop.  If the button raises me again, so be it, I can easily let go of Jack-10 there.  But it showed me I was being too cautious to play right.  Prudence was making a recovery and seemed in no hurry to leave—and I was her ride—but I knew I was done.  I had a few more hands until the blinds came around, and didn’t get a hand I would have played under any circumstances.  I racked up my chips and told Prudence I was done, but that she could stay as long as she wanted.  I’d be happy to hang around as long as she wanted while she tried to make up her losses.  She played an orbit or two and was ready to go.

I cashed out slightly under $400 ahead.  Would have been a bit over that if I had folded the Jack-10 hand, which I should have done if I wasn’t prepared to play it aggressively.  Still a good night.  I just stayed one or two orbits too many.  We discussed the Ace-King hand which was still in my head—did I play it right?  She thought maybe I call there and re-evaluate on the flop.  So on the way back to drop her off, she called her ex-boyfriend (ex, because he is now her husband instead), and asked his opinion.  He said he would have played it the same way I did, inasmuch as I didn’t have position.  If I had had position, he would have called and then re-evaluated on the flop.

That made me feel a lot better, and I was already feeling pretty good with the nearly $400 extra in my wallet.  I would like to hear from my readers on that Ace-King hand—do you think I did the right thing?  Or,or course, your comments on any other hand I discussed are always welcome..