The Card Protector

I hadn’t returned to play at the Wynn since the story I told here of a rather disastrous session.  I knew that eventually I had to return to try again.  It took me awhile, but in August I finally spent another evening in the Wynn poker room.
 

I was playing at kind of a wild table and I could have made some money if only I could have gotten some cards.  If only.

There were a number of loose aggros and one absolute maniac.  The maniac was sitting in seat 9 and had every possible electronic device at his disposal.  In addition to his celphone, he had an Ipod and an Ipad.  He actually had the Ipad propped up in front of him, right on the poker table.  I was surprised they allowed that.  I was also surprised he wasn’t warned about holding up the game.  He was so into his Ipad, he frequently didn’t act immediately when it was his turn, because his head was buried in the Ipad and he wasn’t paying attention to the game.  When finally nudged by the dealer that it was his turn to act, he’d usually look around for a few seconds and then raise.

There were a couple of other pretty aggressive players, and most of these aggros had big stacks.  Because of the action at the table, I loosened my calling standards and played some hands I don’t normally play, hoping to get paid off if I hit something even mediocre.  But I had trouble hitting anything at all.  And it would have been difficult to bluff or steal because all these maniacs would call with anything—bottom pair, Ace high, Jack-high.

There was one player at the table who was a bit of a distraction for me.  No, it wasn’t a well-endowed woman in a low-cut dress dammit.  It was a guy who looked incredibly familiar.  My first thought was that it was just some guy I’d played poker with before, That happens all the time.  Even when I go into a room I’ve hardly every played, I usually spot someone I’ve played with before.  But the more I thought about it, the more I thought I knew this guy from something other than poker.

It was driving me crazy.  As the evening wore on, the more I became convinced it was not from poker that I knew this guy.  I started thinking that I had seen this guy on television.  So I started thinking that I didn’t know him at all, he just looked like someone famous. Some actor, some television personality, some minor personality.  Fortunately I came to that realization before I embarrassed myself by asking him where I knew him from.

It was only the next morning, waking up, that it dawned on me.  The guy had a very strong resemblance to former Clinton political advisor Paul Begala.  Yeah, that was it.  Phew.  I could stop thinking about it, finally.  Recall that last year I played poker with someone who looked like Newt Gingrich (see here). So at least my poker opponents were now officially bi-partisan.

Anyway, I was steadily losing chips when I found myself looking at Ace-5 of diamonds on the button.  It limped to me and I was relieved that I could see a flop with a pretty weak hand without having to call a raise.  The flop was great, an Ace and two diamonds.  It checked to me and I bet $10.  The only player who called was one of the tightest players at the table.  The turn card completed my flush, and I bet $20, and he called.  The river was a blank and when it was checked to me, I didn't expect to get a call there.  But I dutifully put out $50 and was surprised when he called.  He mucked without showing when he saw I had the nuts.

Then there was hand that I played badly and cost me some chips.  I had Ace-Queen off in early position.  There had been a button straddle (and you all remember how much I love the button straddle, see here) and the guy who was straddling usually raised when he did that.  So, I just limped in.  The button didn’t raise and I saw the flop for cheap. It came all spades, and all kind of bunched together, making a straight or even a straight flush possible.  I had the Queen of spades and a red Ace.  Paul Begala bet out $20 and I called.  You can’t just assume he has the Ace of spades there, right?  A fourth spade hit the turn, and this time he checked.

I figured he didn’t like the spade and so I bet $35.  He called.  A 9 of clubs on the river made a straight very, very likely.  This time Paul Begala bet out again, $75.  Did I still like my flush (which was only the third-nuts)?  Not really.  I thought about it.  I wondered if he had the straight there and if so, would he bet it?  I foolishly decided to call.  In my defense, I was probably distracted by trying to figure out where I knew this guy from.  Of course he had the Ace of spades.  Bad play on my part, to be sure.

By the way, Begala wasn’t really one of the aggros at the table, but he did do this one thing—whenever he raised preflop, he bet really big.  It was usually $20-$30 when he raised preflop, even if he was first in.  That’s a pretty big preflop raise in a 1/3 game.

My stack dwindled down to less than $100 (from $300).  As it was getting late, I decided not to add more chips and just play with what I had in front of me.  I hoped to get a top pair or overpair hand that I could play aggressively with a short stack.  So in early position I found pocket Jacks.  I had too much to shove with (a bit under $100) so I raised to $15.  The guy on my left—a reasonable player—called.  It folded to the maniac in seat 9—the Ipad guy.  He made it $35 and it folded back to me.  This was what I was looking for.  He could be doing that with a lot of hands, most of which I was ahead.  So I shoved.  The reasonable guy folded and of course the maniac called.

We didn’t show and the board was kind of scary.  Ace, a pair of 9’s, even a possible straight.  But when I showed my Jacks and I asked, “You have an Ace?” he just said “no” and mucked.  He said “no” as if it was a ridiculous question.  Like, “Do you really think I’d call your shove with that good of a hand?” I have no idea what he had but I was glad to take his chips.

There was one incident at the game I want to mention.  One of the aggros had a huge stack of chips, easily over $1000, all in red.  Some of the players, in addition to having $100 bills, had black chips, which of course, are worth $100.  I had noticed this aggro with the huge stack had what I first took to be a small stack of $100 chips (say 4 or 5).  Upon closer inspection, I noticed it wasn’t chips at all, it was either a lighter or a tin of mints like the one I used to use as my card protector.

I think I first mentioned the card protector I use to use back in this post here.  It was a blue tin and on one or two occasions when I used it, a player would express concern that it looked too much like chips to be used.  This really only happened at the Aria tournament and it did kind look like the blue tournament chips they use there.  I don’t think anyone would have confused it with any room’s real chips.  I've since replaced that card protector with an AVP card protector, which is actually too big (in diameter) to be confused with a chip.

Anyway, I had quickly figured out that the guy’s black “chips” were not chips at all.  But I will say, that the Wynn’s regular chips always seemed to me to look more like tournament chips and less like “real” chips than any other casino I’ve ever played in.  Anyone else ever notice that?  Well, apparently I wasn’t the only one who initially thought the small black “stack” was chips.  When a new player came to the game, he asked if the guy had a stack of black chips to go along with his stacks and stacks of red.  The guy picked up the “stack” and held it out in front of him and said it was indeed a lighter.  He rolled it around in front of him and even flicked it once.

The new player demanded that the lighter be removed from the table.  He said it was confusing, and he said that if some guy with a big stack went all in against him, he’d be liable for the $400 that represents. The player with the lighter said no, he liked the lighter and that it was his good luck charm.  The new player asked the dealer to tell him to remove the lighter, but the dealer looked it over and said it was fine.

Now a bunch of other players started complaining and insisting that the lighter be taken off the table.  Note, these other players had been playing with the guy all night and hadn’t said a word up until now. The dealer called the floor over.  The floor looked it over for a bit and said it was fine.  But the new player insisted on going to a higher authority.  He asked for someone by name—presumably the shift manager.  I guess this guy was a regular.  So a second guy in a suit came over and made the exact same ruling.  The lighter was fine.  He did ask the guy to put it in front of his other chips and not on top of them.

The players pissed and moan for some time after that.  One of them even pointed out my AVP card protector and noted the contrast. “Now, no one would confuse that with a real chip.”

Sadly, the JJ hand was the last even remotely playable hand of the night.  I was getting tired and so I left, down around $100 and change.  Still not wynning at the Wynn but it was improvement over my last session there.

Poker is a Stupid* Game

(*-The actual title of this blog post consists of the word “stupid” repeated an infinite number of times before the word “poker.”)

Sunday night I sent out a tweet about poker being a stupid, stupid (etc.) game.  It was sent right after playing 7 hours of poker at the 1PM Aria tournament.  So you already know where this story is going. 

As for the journey….well there was a period there where I thought I would have a really awesome, totally upbeat, life affirming blog post to write—about how I scored big in the tournament.  Wouldn’t it be great to write a post about a huge cash in a big deepstack tournament?  But of course, that’s not the way it turned out.

As my readers know, on weekends I love to play at the Binion’s 2PM tournament whenever I get the chance.  But due to smaller turnouts recently, they removed the $10K guarantee on Sundays.  So, after playing at Binion’s the day before (which turned out to be an all-too brief experience that isn’t really worth talking about), I decided that playing at Aria on Sunday would be a better option. 

I was right on one level.  They had 137 entrants ($125 buy-in) and a prize pool of over $13K.  The first place prize was over $4,000.  They were paying 15 places. 

If this post had the happy ending it should have (if poker were not a stupid game) I would go into great detail on all the many relevant hands that were key in my making it into the money.  I know my readers would love it if I described every single hand of the tournament, even the many times I folded garbage hands without a second thought.

But that would be too painful for me at this point, so I’ll just isolate a few key hands before reaching the denouement.

Things started well when I raised with KK and flopped a set.  I even got someone with KQ to shove into me with a short stack.  Small chip pickup, but winning with the dreaded pocket Kings is always a pleasant surprise for me. Besides, the guy I busted out was annoying the hell out of me.  He didn’t stop clearing his throat the entire time he was at the table.  I don’t know if he was sick or not, but aside from worrying about getting infected from this guy, it was just maddening listening to him.  I should have gotten a $10 tip each from all the other players for getting rid of him.

Still in one of the early levels, I stupidly just called an aggro’s raise with QQ.  But when another player shoved and the aggro folded to the three-bet, I found my cajones and shoved.  I had about 1/3 more chips than the raiser, who snap-called and tabled AK.  Nothing hit either one of us, and it was a good pot for me.

In the fifth level I raised with AK, got a caller, saw of flop of AK9.  When I bet out, the caller, a short stack, shoved with K-10.  He caught a 10 on the turn but no more and I had his chips.  That put me at $26K in chips where $17K was an “M” of 20.  Not bad.

Same level, with blinds at 25/200/400 and a few limpers in front of me, I made it $2K with AA.  The Asian woman with the big, fake boobies called.  She had less chips than I did, but not that much less.  Queen high flop, I bet $4K and she shoved.  I snap called.  She had been aggressive all day and I was fairly sure all she had was a Queen.  I was right.  She had a weak Queen and didn’t get any help on the turn or the river.

I had $42K starting level 6 and so I got a little cocky.  I talked myself into believing the biggest aggro at the table was bluffing and called on the river with 55.  He had a weak Ace that hit on the river.  It was a dumb play.

I raised with pocket 7’s and got called by the old nit next to me.  When he bet on an Ace high flop, I had to fold, and suddenly my chip stack at the start of the 8^th level was $22K, which was an “M” of less than 10.

So I shoved with pocket 9’s and picked up the blinds, antes and a few limpers bets.  Very next hand, I three-bet shoved with AK.  Unfortunately the short-stack who raised had AA.  I didn’t get lucky.  The net result of those two hands back to back was about a wash.

By level 10, I was at $25K where an “M” of 5 is $30K.  I was definitely in desperation mode and it looked like my tournament was about to end long before I could resume thinking about finishing in the money.

I shoved with A-5 and didn’t get a caller.  Then a big stack made a big raise when I had AK again.  My shove was less than his bet.  But he only had A-8 and I had a much needed double up.

On level 10, I shoved in early position with pocket deuces and no one called me.  Then, against a raise, I shoved with QJ.  The raiser thought about it and folded.  I was definitely willing to take chances at this point.  If I busted out, so be it, I still had a whole evening in front of me to play cash.

Against another raise, I shoved with AK and this time the raiser called.  He tabled AK!  Neither of us were suited and no one it a flush.  We split some antes and blinds.

I shoved with AQ after someone had made a big raise.  I was assuming he’d call, but after tanking, he folded.  My aggression was paying off and without many showdowns, I was getting enough blinds, limpers money and antes to chip up.  Suddenly it was starting to look like I had a chance to cash. 

I had enough chips at this point to not just shove.  I raised to $10K when the big blind was $3k with J9 spades.  No one called.

At the start of level 12, with blinds 500/2000/4000, I had around $60K, which was a bit over an “M” of 5.  Not great, but there were shorter stacks than mine, a number of them.  Before the level was 2/3’s over, we were down to 16 players and were playing hand-for-hand.  The big stack at my table vetoed any idea of paying the bubble.  The min cash was $177, a $52 profit.  We all need one more bust-out to be in the money.

As we got under 20 players, I started playing tighter.  An hour into the tournament, a min cash looks pretty bad.  After 6+ hours of play, with the alternative being a $125 loss, it looks a lot better. That $125 was spent so long ago, so that $177 seemed like all profit.

So I tightened up.  I didn’t throw away any playable hands, but I didn’t take any risks like I had an hour earlier.  I was waiting for a big hand to play.

Late in that level, still hand-for-hand, with about $58K in front of me, I looked down at two beautiful red Aces in the small blind.  Even better, a guy with a stack similar to mine went all-in in front of me.

It folded to me and I of course snap-shoved.  Everyone else folded and my opponent said, “You’re probably ahead.”  No shit.  He tabled Ace-Jack of spades.

I was feeling good until I saw the flop.  Other than it being all spades, this was about as great a flop as he could have hoped for.  It was a Jack and two spades, giving him 11 outs! A meaningless red card on the turn gave me a bit of relief.  It was short-lived.  A black 7 hit the river.  It was not a club.  The lucky bastard had caught his flush.

I really thought he had more chips than I did, but after the count, it turned out he had $7K less. 

I was stunned, and mindlessly started playing with my 14 $500 chips.  There was one hand left before the break.  Numb, I looked at K-3 offsuit.  I suppose I could have shoved there, but there was a raise in front of me and I couldn’t think too straight.  I mucked.

All I could think of during the break was all those chips I would have had if I had won that hand.  I’d be over $125K and would not only be almost guaranteed a cash, but in serious contention to get a big pay day.  Three or four places were getting more than $1,000. 

Another player pointed out tha, if I had won that pot, the bubble would have been broken, we’d all be in the money, and hand-for-hand would be over.  Everyone would be happy except that one lucky bastard. 

Poker is a stupid game.

Still hand-for-hand, still on the bubble, I counted my stack of $6,500.  Antes were still $500, but the blinds for the new level were now 3000/6000.  In other words, on the first hand, I would have exactly one big blind.  To say I needed a miracle would be an understatement.

And I got it.  Very first hand, in the cut-off seat, I looked down at pocket Queens.  It folded to me.  I shoved—which was really just a call.  The small blind completed and the big blind checked.  The board was Jack high.  Neither of them bet any street.  One had King high, the other had Ace high and I was still alive, now with $21K.

Not much, but at least it gave me a little wiggle room.  Obviously I would need another break, a decent or semi-decent hand to play before the big blind came to me.  And maybe someone would bust out before I had to shove again.

I throw away some garbage hand next, but on the hand after that, I looked down at pocket 5’s.  That looked like a monster in my situation.  It folded to me and of course I shoved.

It folded until the big blind.  The big blind had the biggest stack at our table by far.  I think they had to borrow some chips from the Bellagio to give this guy all the chips he had in front of him.  So of course he called.  He tabled King-8 of hearts.  By the way, he was the guy who had vetoed paying the bubble.

With the hearts and the two over-cards, I knew I was not in the best of shape.  Until I saw the flop.  It was 5-Queen-Jack.  Yahtzee.  I had a set.  I was looking good.  I’d have close to $50K after this hand, almost back up to what I had lost when I got the Aces, and in pretty good shape to survive the bubble.  After that, I wouldn’t be in great shape to get past the min-cash, but hey, anything can happen, right?

But the turn card was a 10, giving the big stack an open-ended straight draw.

Which he hit when a f***ing 9 hit the river.

Yeah, a god-damned 9.

I didn’t say a word.  I was incapable of speech.  I just sat there in total disbelief, with my mouth wide open.  I think I sat motionless for at least a minute.

Neither of those beats were the worst I’d ever experienced.  But taken together, the two of them, in about a span of about 5 minutes of actual “poker time,” were truly a horrific 1-2 punch.

One of my fellow players said, “Man, are you running bad.”  Another one said, “You should be the chip leader now, and instead, you’re out.”  To be fair, I wouldn’t have been the chip leader, but the point was well taken.

Instead of a big cash, I was out on the bubble.

Poker is a stupid game.

After a quick dinner, I tried playing 2-6 at the MGM.  But I was in a daze, totally not into it.  I didn’t last an hour.  I lost a few bucks, but never in my life had I felt less like playing poker.

Poker is a stupid game.

Note:  The pictures accompanying this post having nothing to do with poker, or anything I've written about it.

But these pics make me smile. Poker?  Not so much at the moment.

"Will You Show if I Fold?"

As I mentioned in this post, I played at the Binion’s 2PM Deepstack on the Saturday after Halloween for almost 10 hours.  Although I eventually want to tell you the whole story about that tournament, I first want to isolate one particular hand because I think it is revolves around an age old poker question that I haven’t really talked about previously.

What are you supposed to say or do when you make a bet and your opponent, while considering his action, asks you, “Will you show if I fold?”

I would love to get some feedback on how best to handle that question.  Obviously, the situation somewhat dictates the answer, but what is everyone’s default position?

It wasn’t easy for me this time because the player who asked was a real nice guy and we had been quite friendly up until that point.

I had only recently gotten into a good chip position, as the 8^th level had been very good to me.  That riveting tale will have to wait.  Either in this level or the previous one, this guy had moved over from a broken table to sit to my immediate left.  He recognized one of the players I had been playing with since the tournament started sitting across the table and had a running conversation with him the entire time he was there.

He didn’t pay much attention to me at first, but then he noticed me looking at a slip of paper I kept pulling out of my shirt pocket and became obsessed with learning what it was I was looking at.

I don’t think I’ve ever mentioned it here before, but when I play in a tournament I like to use a “cheat sheet.”  No, it doesn’t tell me the ranking of the hands.  I usually can remember that.

Just to make things easier for me—so I don’t have to calculate and recalculate it all the time during the play—I have made up a cheat sheet of “Tournament M’s” for every tournament I’m likely to play.  I just use an Excel spreadsheet and it’s easy to use the same format and copy the blinds into it for each tournament.  Not only do I have the M calculation I need, but I also have the blinds right there so I can peak to see what the blinds will be for the next level or two.  Just makes it easier for me.  That way I can take notes between hands instead of doing math in my head.

In all the times I’ve had this cheat sheet, this guy was the first person ever to notice it and be curious enough to ask me what I was looking at.  At first I was embarrassed to tell him and I just shrugged or said, “oh, it’s nothing.”  But he wouldn’t let it go.  He was dying to see it.  I think I could have asked him to give me five bucks to see it and he would have.

He even guessed, “Is that to tell you when it’s time to shove?”  Well, kind of.  Finally I told him what it was and showed him my little cheat sheet.  He seemed amused and/or impressed with my handiwork.

Now I had been checking it quite a bit earlier, when he first came to the table because when he first sat next to me, I was indeed pretty much at the point where I very seldom just raise, I shove instead.

But now, after a couple of nice hands, I was up to around $88K, which was actually around an M of 20, so I was in good shape.  The second of the two good hands involved me stacking a short stack when I had the dreaded pocket Kings.  The shorter stack had raised in front of me and I three-bet him; he called.  On a Jack high flop, he shoved the remainder of his chips and I called.  He flipped over Ace-Queen of spades.  He really had nothing, just a back-door flush draw.  It was an odd play.  He might have felt committed there (which meant he probably should have shoved to my three-bet, which I would have called).   He didn’t catch the Ace he needed and I was very happy to get all those chips with a measly pair of Kings.

Sorry I didn’t write down any details, but the reason is that the hand I want to discuss happened just two or three hands later and I didn’t have time.  And wouldn’t you know it, just those two or three hands later, I had pocket Kings again!  I admit, I felt I was pushing my luck trying to win with them twice in a row and considered folding.  Just kidding.  I think.

The blinds were 200/800/1600.  With one limper in front of me, I made it $6k.  My friendly neighbor to my left called.  He had a similar stack to mine, I thought it was probably a little bigger than mine.  No one else called.  The flop was 10-3-3.   I put out $15K and he called.

I didn’t like that.  He had seemed like a reasonably player, certainly no maniac.  It was hard to put him any hand with a 10 in it unless he had two of them.  Pocket 3’s were possible I supposed, but that’s monsters-under-the-bed syndrome.

There was a low card on the turn, a 7 or a 5, and I considered my action.  Almost any bet I made there would commit me.  I didn’t like the idea of checking and giving up control.  I finally decided to just to put it all in, and if he was slowplaying a monster, so be it.  At least I’d have the rest of the day to do something else.  That’s the attitude I have now playing deepstacks.  I’d rather bust out early than play for 7-8 hours and have nothing to show for it.

Well, I knew my Kings were good from his reaction.  He did not snap-call.  He went into to the tank.  It was a very, very deep tank.

He started agonizing over it, verbally.  “My tournament life is at stake here.”

And then he said to me, “Will you show if I fold?”

What am I supposed to say or do there?

I guess the best thing to do is say and do nothing, right?  Not even respond.  Just stare off into the distance with a stone face, right?

Now, I know if he asks the question, my Kings are good.  He’s already snapped called if he had pocket 10’s or any other hand that beats my Kings. 

I know there’s more than one reason for him to ask that question.  Of course, if I say yes, and he folds, he wants to see if he made a good laydown.

But also, he wants to know my answer so he can read me.  If I say “yes”, maybe he calls there because the “yes” could mean that I want him to fold because I was bluffing or semi-bluffing. 

Unless he reads my “yes” as purposely misleading him so he folds.  Unless I read him as assuming I’d say the opposite of what I want and he then calls.

This poker stuff is hard.

You can go thru the same mental gymnastics if I say “no” of course.

All that said, I actually did respond to his question.  I did indeed said “no.” 

I wasn’t trying to induce a call, although by this point, I wouldn’t have minded a call at all, knowing I must have been ahead.  I was being honest.  I had no intention of showing him my hand after unless he called and I had to.

I guess that is what I always say when asked that question, it’s my default answer and it happens to be the truth.  Is saying nothing better?  I think it is, but I would like to hear your thoughts.

Without trying to figure out how many levels we’re both thinking in order to know the best answer there, the other reason is that, I certainly don’t want the other players to see my hand unless I have to show it.  Even if I didn’t mind showing him after he folded, the “show one show all” rule applies, and everyone would see it.  If I can, I want to at least let everyone at the table consider the possibility that I was making a move there with a weak hand, right?

So even if I did calculate the correct answer to induce the action I wanted, I’m not going to show if I can help it.  I suppose if the correct answer is “yes” and, if he folds, I could still not show it, right?  And just say, “I lied.  All poker players are liars, don’t you know?”  Might even put a guy on tilt.  But I’m not that nasty.

So I said “no” and he was quite upset.  He was actually in disbelief.  “No?  You won’t show?”

I shook my head.  I got the impression that, if for no other reason, the fact that we had been so friendly and so chatty made him think that I would gladly show my hand if he folded. We were pals, weren’t we?

So then he said, “Well then, I may just have to call.”  OK, I knew why he said that.  He wanted to see my reaction.  I guess it was ok, because he didn’t insta-muck.  But he did say, “Oh, you’re not worried, huh?”

He must have asked me if I would show at least half a dozen times.  He kept agonizing and picking up his cards and I guess while he was going through his own mental calculations he was trying to get some kind of read on me.

At one point he did ask me, “What, you have Kings again?”

I said nothing of course.  I wanted to say that I couldn’t possible have Kings again since I had them two hands earlier.  But I said nothing.

Finally, he did something I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone do before.  He called “time” on himself.

He apologized to the other players at the table and said he was calling time on himself.  The dealer actually called the floor over and set a timer as he did his finally reconnoitering. 

And with a couple of seconds left, he said, “Ok” and mucked his cards.

He immediately asked me, as I was stacking my chips, “It was a good laydown, right?”

Again, I suppose saying nothing there is best.  But whatever I say at that point, without showing my cards, isn’t really giving much away, right?  I could be lying.  And I did kind of feel bad for him.  He seemed genuinely hurt that I wouldn’t show, like I had violated this very brief friendship we had

I just laughed a little and said, “If you didn’t snap-call there, you made a good laydown.”

Then he said he had pocket Jacks.  I just nodded.  “Did you have Aces?”  I just shrugged.  I probably said again that it was a good laydown.  He said something like, “It was hard for me to figure a hand you were betting for value there that I could beat.”

Finally I said, “OK, I had pocket three’s.”

He laughed.  “If you had pocket three’s there, that was the worst play in the history of poker.”

I agreed.  He was still thinking about the hand when he noticed me writing notes in my notebook.  I think he had noticed it before. 

“Oh, now you’re writing notes about the hand huh?”  I think he made a self-deprecating joke, like, “Got a dummy to lay down Jacks.” 

Now ordinarily, I never admit to taking notes about the hands when they see me writing in the notebook.  I usually say that I’m doing my grocery list.  But this time, having already admitted to him that I use the cheat sheet, I thought I’d confess. 

“I am writing notes about the hand. ‘Bluffed a guy with pocket deuces.’”

He laughed, knowing I was kidding.

I think.

I knew at that point. if at all possible, I would tell him I had Kings when one of us busted out.  And also tell him about the blog.

Sure enough, he busted out not that long after that.  No doubt his game was completely thrown off by not knowing if he made a good laydown to a guy with a cheat sheet and a pocket notebook.  As he left and said goodbye to his friend at the other end of the table, I got up and whispered into his ear, “I did have Kings on that hand.  Honest.”

He thanked me and then I did something I rarely do.  I gave him a card with the blog’s URL on it and said, “I do a blog.  That’s why I write down the hands.  It may take awhile, but I’m sure I’ll eventually be writing about that hand.”  He thanked me again and said he would look for it.

Well, my friend with pocket Jacks, here it is.

((Note, for those of you who follow me on Twitter, the story above is clearly not at all related to the tweet I sent out last night that said, "Poker is a stupid game" (except that I repeated the word stupid about a hundred times). No, this story was written a while back, when I could still type the word poker without wincing.  The story that led to me sending last night's tweet will come sometime down the road, if I can ever bring myself to type the word poker again.))