random thoughts and thoroughbred selections

Friday, December 17, 2004

1015PM, Sunday

I�m not sure how best to explain how much I loathed myself after nine hours at the same dollar poker table at the Excalibur on Sunday.

I�m a chickenshit gambler sometimes. Low risk, low reward. What better place to not lose big stacks of cash than the low limit Excalibur games? I was actually shocked at the quality of play out there. My experiences playing live poker in casinos previously were limited to a pretty tough $4/$8 table at Little River Casino in Manistee, MI and a reasonably tough $4/$8 table at Caesar�s Riverboat in Indiana. Add to that my Friday afternoon playing seven strong full of bloggers, and I haven�t been in a position to be a winning poker player.

Sunday night changed all that.

I managed to be seated with two other reasonably solid players at a table full of fish. My early nemesis, one seat to my right, was this enormous dude in those smoky not-quite-sunglasses and a Teddy Bruschi Patriots jersey. He was sweating and smelled like the trash can at an Italian deli. He was also the obvious alpha male of the small group of friends both seated and watching our table. Chip tricks, smack talk, �sizing up� the competition to try to get a read, he had the whole arsenal of ESPN table image tricks at his disposal. Of course, match that with �West Wing� caliber starting hand selection, and you�ve certainly got yourself a poseur. He�s tossing raises into hand after hand, and there were a few calling him down every time.

And I couldn�t get a starting hand to save my life.

Prosciutto-Pores sadly had to catch his flight, and cashed out down about half his stack from before. In place of him and a couple of his buddies we had a rotating cast of characters for a little while. At least until �the threesome� sat down.

I was in the seven seat, and across the table in the one came this guy and these two women. He was this balding fiftyish pseudo-metrosexual rocking the standard issue black cashmere mock turtleneck and expensive shoes. On his arm were not one but two middle aged women, one of whom was actually pretty hot. I was joking with the Utah cowboys on my left (Shane and Cody, and you can�t make up cowboys named Shane and Cody) that maybe they were Utahns as well, willing to leave the other wives at home for the weekend for a little dollar poker action. It was obvious that this aging hipster was trying to teach these women how to play poker.

And he was doing it by seeing every hand all the way down to the river.

I was licking my chops. I knew it was only a matter of time before he staked these women with a rack of whites each, and we�d have three fish swimming in relatively tranquil waters.

Just before he bought his ladies into the game, Shane leaned over to me and asked, �How much do you think he paid for those ladies?� I replied, �I don�t know, but I always try to impress my whores by having them watch me play dollar poker.� Shane was cracking up. There�s nothing like a Utah cowboy with a sense of humor.

Shortly thereafter, hipster moved to the six seat, immediately to my right, and staked the other two ladies at the other end of the table. He bought in himself for a rack. He�d do that two more times over the next three hours.

Do you have any idea how difficult it is to lose $300 at a $1/$3 game? Better yet, do you have any idea how difficult it is to sit there and watch everyone else take this guy�s money when you�re easily one of the two best players at the table?

I was getting insanely frustrated. The M.O. for these three was to limp for a buck, see the flop, and call all the way down. It was boring. No raising, no re-raising, nothing. Just a lot of limp-and-catch.

I needed to entertain myself. Well, entertain myself while waiting for my aces. With hipster to my right in the big (only) blind, I announced pre-deal I was raising the pot to $4, and I wasn�t going to look at my cards. The women were agog. I actually heard one of them ask, �Can he do that?� Shane asked the more appropriate, �Why are you doing that?�

I told him we had to loosen this table up. A lot. That I couldn�t remember the last time anyone had raised anyone here, and that if you want to make some money, you�ve got to crack a few heads to do it.

Predictably, six saw the flop, but when I bet out $3 blind after hipster checked, the ladies folded. What does he have under there? The board was rags, didn�t look dangerous, but you never know what a player who�s playing everything may or may not have caught. Hipster was the only one who called me.

A King came on the turn, and I checked after him. Another rag on the river, and he led out for $3. I wasn�t about to let him get off cheap, so I re-raised to $6. Gasps from the rookies at the other end when he called. �Queen high� said the hipster. His rag kicker didn�t even catch.

I turned them over one at a time. Four of clubs? No dice. Eight of clubs! I paired up on the flop? Sweet! Shane and Cody high-fived, and the hipster was left shaking his head. �I had to see what he had.� Good, I was curious to see what I had too.

Cody reached across to shake my hand. �Now, that�s what I call gambling*!� He was giddy. �I�ve gotta give that a shot.�

*(It�s dollar poker, I was sitting there for three hours within $5 of even, and I could give a crap about blowing $13 on a single hand if it loosened everyone up. It wasn�t a huge risk or anything.)

The very next hand Cody announces he�s playing blind. He raises pre-flop, sees a King on the flop and bets, sees another King on the turn and bets, and gets called by the hipster all the way down. Hipster turns over two pair, both rags catching. �HAVE A KING!� I yell. �One at a time man, one at a time.�

First card is a six. That�s one pair. Second card?�

KING! FULL HOUSE! The table went nuts. Later on, Otis came over to tell me he heard all the excitement. You�d be excited too if you were a cowboy from Utah who just lucked his way into a blind full house.

This went on for a little while, losing more hands than I won. Usually, I�d just raise blind pre-flop, then look. Actually, the one hand all night that didn�t go to showdown was when I raised blind pre-flop, then looked and raised a $3 to $6 on the flop.

Subtlety has no place in dollar poker.

In the last two hours of my session, I was driven nearly to the brink by the arrival of four new faces, all young, to the table. The girl wasn�t seated twenty minutes and was up $200. A guy next to me, the easiest poker player to read I�ve ever seen, cracked my top two pair with Q9 (King high straight). I actually called his last bet and said, �Let me see Q9,� and he turned it over. The ladies at the other end of the table were acting like I just did some sort of magic trick. Again people, dollar poker. It ain�t that hard.

The hand that really drove me away was preceded by a quick visit from Mrs. Can�t Hang and Grubby. They stopped by mid-hand, and as I saw the dealer shuffling I said, �Gotta sit back down, these could be my Aces*.�

Nope, but she did give me Kings.

*(I saw Aces on my first day once, saw Kings once on Sunday. Didn�t see a pair higher than Tens otherwise in roughly 18 hours of play.)

And I made my set. I was heads-up for a small side pot against the guy who cracked me with Q9 earlier. I knew I was in trouble when one of the hipster�s women was grinning all-in for the main pot across the table. She showed her cards to her railbird, some surly Samoan dude, and I was screwed. My Kings did beat the other guy�s two pair, but if I gave you this board, can you guess with what hand the woman across the table cracked my Kings?

QQ962

Yep, that�s right. Q9 again. Full house.

I was so freaking disgusted. I don�t mind losing a bunch of small pots in an effort to win a few big ones, but my cards were so ice cold that I actually cashed out of this game down $40.

Down $40 and pissed. I can�t believe how much money I left sitting at that table. Shoulda been me�

[>>]posted at 1:59 PM by BG - click to email
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