Pokerama-rama! Now with more beer!

Beer, brewing and poker, with possibly some inane drivel on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Low(no)poker content

Allow me to set the stage; you just happen--by some form of luck that you're not accustomed--to find yourself in the company of an extremely attractive member of the opposite sex. He's a big, ripped muscley guy with the mental wherewithal to solve all of the world's most difficult riddles, like, why green olives are stuffed with pimento and black olives and only filled with envy.

Or, she's got huge cans, and you're a big fan of huge cans. Guys aren't difficult, and usually need nothing more than one body part to keep them occupied, hence my reason for not mentioning her intelligence. I'm not saying that I'm a big boob guy, but some of you reading this might be, and I'm only here to please you people.

Whatever it is that they have, you want it. And you're going to get it. It will happen. Sooner rather than later, that day will come.

You meet out somewhere for a few drinks before he/she suggests you go back to their place to "watch a movie". You're all up on "watching a movie", so you readily agree. In fact, you only let them get out "Wanna..." before you're nodding in agreement and on your way out the door.

When you arrive back at the apartment, they really do pop in some random movie that you've seen 15 times already, even though you tell them it's your first time. Your first time--biggest lie ever. And you both know that you're not going to make it all the way to the end, because "let's go watch a movie" is widely known to be a substitute for let's go watch a my bed...with no tv on". Whatever gets you there, I suppose.

It all starts innocently enough while snuggling during Fried Green Tomatoes, which leads to kissing during Dumb and Dumber, and ultimately lands you in bed, naked, with the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack playing loudly in the background. And people say I'm the weird one.

But first you must transition from the couch to the bedroom without seeming too eager, and without gleefully exclaiming "I'm gonna get laid! I'm gonna laid!" If you're anything like me, it's not as easy as it sounds.

Aw sweet Jesus, you're finally laying in bed, clothed. That's gotta change. She rips her own shirt off like Hulkamania has gone wild inside of her, and if he's a little too spastic about disrobing, his underwear are shed by exiting the pelvic region via the chest and head highway, rather than down his legs. It doesn't matter who undresses who, or how the mission is performed. All that matters is that clothing is balled up in the corner, thrown over the ceiling fan, and somehow the pants always end up tucked so far under the bed that a Sherpa needs to be hired for a rescue mission.

Now you're naked. Nude. No clothes. The time when you'd rather hear "Holy shit, you're hung!" or, "Wow, your hood is pierced!" rather than "Is that your clitoris or a tiny penis" and "That's it?".

Nothing good can be taken from the latter two.

You're doing, you know, it. And for whatever reason, it's exceptionally good. Like, really good. Roll your eyes in the back of your head, travel through time, wishing for death immediately after sweet, sweet release good. Yeah, that good.

The only thing that you can think about is them and what they're doing. You're in the moment, completely devoid of thought outside of your glistening, sweaty bodies pressed together, and the sound of breathy, sex-driven moans.

Wow, I can't believe she's here. I can't believe that this absolutely stunning woman is in my bed right now, naked. When she moves just so, just like she just did, yeah like that, it's amazing. I could die right now a happy man.

And then, something happens. You don't know why it happens, and you don't know what to do to stop it.

So gorgeous, just so, I'm getting tired. My legs are starting to hurt and that slapping sound is getting on my nerves. I wonder if she'll be pissed if I fall asleep right after?

And it only gets worse.

I could do this to her all day. Wait. Grandma? What the fuck are you doing here? Mom's here too? Awwww shit. Get out of my head!

From that point on, you're doomed. You try thinking about all things sexy, but soon your train of thought is waterfalling out of control with visits from random relatives, teachers you haven't talked to--let alone thought about--since the 5th grade, and mental imagery of that beef stroganoff you had for dinner three weeks ago. Your only hope is to kill yourself or fake it, and you can't quite decide which would be easier.

So, my question is this: Has this sort of thing ever happened to you?


Yeah, uh, me either.

The whole point behind this entry was not to give you another reason to color me demented, because you already have enough fuel for that flame. No, the point is, now that you've read this, the next time you have sex you'll think about this stupid post, and in turn, me. It's inevitable and there's nothing you can do about it. Who are you to resist me?

That right there, folks, is disturbing enough to make me smile.

Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Excuses, excuses.

Yeah, I realize I haven't been around all that much. A completely unexpected death in the family, a little bout of seasonal depression and an effort to conserve what little bankroll I do have for Vegas, well, they all tend to keep me away from hucking digital chips towards my opponents stacks. They didn't really want my money anyhow.

I just haven't been playing that much poker of the last two weeks. No poker, means no updates. I didn't even realize it had been so long since I've touched your lives with my beautiful, flowing verbiage.

Uh, yeah.

It's about that time of year when thoughts turn towards check-raising some douchebags(credit:Bobby Ipod), losing large razz pots, and questioning why the Plaza reeks of impending death. And by impending death, I mean "old people".

There isn't much advice I can give to you, Lame Reader, that hasn't already been forced into your already addled, pre-Vegas brains. I do, however, have one contradiction to a major piece of advice; 50 degree daytime highs and 30 degree nightime lows is not cold.

Where I come from--Minnesota, not my mother's womb thingy--that's balmy this time of year. While I understand the need to wear your warmest winter gear in the poker rooms(my hands turned purple more than once in June), there is no reason to lug around your warm winter jacket in 50 degree weather. And admit it, you're not going to be outside more than the time it takes to go from one casino to the next.

The WPBT event in June was my first trip to Vegas for this sort of convention. Even I, with my rudimentary counting skills,(fingers and toes, penis when necessary) can figure out that this will be my second. If you catch me unzipping my pants while at a poker table, I'm either blacked-out drunk, or trying to figure out pot odds on an open-ended straight flush draw. Most likely both.

On the fun scale of one to a shitload, June ranks right up there just a notch under a shitload. I do wish that I'd talked to more people, though. You see, I tend to be on the shy side, and even when I drink I tend to sit back and watch the show rather than become a part of it. I'm perfectly content sitting back and observing.

I hung out with and talked to Bobby Bracelet, Joe, BG, and even got to talk to Pauly more than I thought I would.

But that leaves 70 some odd people that I didn't say more than a few words to. I'm pretty sure that everyone at my starting table in the Saturday tournament thought I was a hobo because I didn't say more than 10 words, to anyone, the entire time, and I had to have reeked of 75 different forms of alcohol. What does it say about me when I contemplate licking the back of my hand--in public--to make sure I'm not sweating vodka?

Come to think of it, though, I was at the girl's end of the table, and girls are icky. And have cooties. That would explain why I didn't talk all that much. Can you get cooties from poker chips? Hell, I didn't even realize that Chilly was there until, er, yesterday! Not that he has anything to do with girl germs, I was just sayin' is all.

That's my only 'must-do'; talk to more people.

If you didn't hear the legion of Penthouse Pet railbirds scream "Chaaaaad! We lust after you in the exact opposite of a platonic way!"(who knew that any Pet would know the definition of "platonic?") when I was knocked out of the actual WPBT tourney in June, I finished in 9th(10th?) place. That would normally would be a non-paying final table appearance, but the other players were kind enough to give me a refund on my entrance fee, even though I showed up with 3 orange chips(T1500 total) when the average stack was about T100,000,000. Yes, a hundred meeellion cheeps.

After being knocked out, I grabbed my swag, made the Walk of Shame towards the bar in the middle of the casino, grabbed a drink, sat down and thought about my play. Did I play my best? Did I make stupid calls and get lucky? Even 6 months later, I still look back at some of the plays I made--which at the time I thought were terrible--and wonder if that's the sort of game one needs to succeed in tournament poker.

Just a fair warning; the details on these hands will be sparse. I didn't document them at the time, so get off my back already, wouldya?

My 99 vs. Pauly's 1010: Before the tournament started, I recall Felicia saying that the structure that had originally been agreed upon was scrapped at the last minute, and that the Aladdin's structure was nothing but a crapshoot. As I played this hand, that word kept replaying in my head. I don't remember the last time I called off all my chips holding a pair of nines, and I know I haven't done it since. Crapshoot, crapshoot, crapshoot. I had just seen Pauly push AK against Halverson's KK and get lucky, so I hoped he was doing the same thing here. I was fortunate(lucky) enough that the first card off was a 9, and I doubled up on a play that I don't usually make.

My A5h vs. Tanya's33: I'm sure she had no clue who I was, but I knew her and made a decision to stay away from her from the minute I sat down. Why? Uh, could it because she's a much better tournament player than I am? Of course. If I recall correctly, she pushed when it was my big blind, and it wasn't that much more to call. If the odds to call were there or not, that's another story altogether, a story that I didn't even read. Regardless, I rivered a boat and she was out. I'm sure she wasn't too happy to lose to someone calling with A5h.

My K10d vs. EvaCanHang's K9o: Once again, it wasn't that much more to call, and by that time I had a fairly big stack, but I don't remember the last time I called an all-in with king-ten. Crapshoot.

My A7h vs. CJ'sA3o vs. Shelly's QJ: I didn't play this hand out, but the outcome makes me wish that I had. I know, I know, it's impossible to win by beating yourself up over hands that you shouldn't play anyhow, but I pussed out from playing the patented brand of retard poker I'd been entrenched in all morning, and that's the annoying part about this hand.

CJ had sat down a few hands earlier with an enormous stack, probably twice the size of my stack, and I know that I was well above average. By the time this hand came around, he had been whittled down to less than I had in front of me. Shelly open-raised and I was more worried about what she was holding than CJ's hand, so I folded. CJ pushed and Shelly called and lost the hand, but I would've rivered the nut flush. Should've, would've, could've, I know. I was just more disappointed that I chose that hand hit the brakes on my runaway train. Like a madman laughing at the rain. Was I a little out of touch, and little insane?

Who knows, I'm just trying to make Dave Pirner roll over in his grave.

So there you have it; y'all are pussies and chad plays live poker like a retard.

Any questions?

Tuesday, November 15, 2005

2nd place? Not too shabby. I'm not one to gloat, but I'm about to anyhow--right now, at this point in time, things are running well. That's all the gloat you'll get.

It looks like the key for me is to bitch about one aspect of tournament poker that I've been sucking at recently, and it turns a 180. I bitch about running bad, and I start consistently moneying, and even final tabling. I bitch about not having a big score, and it's immediately followed up by my biggest tournament cash to date.

If you'll excuse me for one second, I have to do this.

Damn it! I want a first fucking place finish! Is that too much to ask for? No? Sweet.

I'm not one to post up long tourney reports because, well, I suck at it. Other people can do it better. I will, however, detail a few key hands.

Level VI: 200/400 My stack is sitting at a like above T5000 and I'm dealt AA in the BB. The button and the SB go all-in before me, both with less than me. That's easy poker right there. folks. I jam to cut out even more people in my rightful pot, the button turns over AKh, the SB turns over...KJo? Wow.

I was lucky to dodge a third heart after a two heart flop, and after that hand I was sitting in 2nd place with T13000. So that's how you build a big stack, huh? So easy.

From that point I breezed pretty easily into the money, and to the final table with a 6th or 7th place chipstack. True to my final table luck lately, the seat redraw put me two seats to the right of the chipleader. He had a stack at least 3x that of anyone else at the table, and happily raked pot after pot by sucking out on at least 4 people in a row when we were down to two tables.

10:00pm--I pinged Drizz on the girly IM device, so that he could railbird me, and he proved to be a handy good luck charm.

With the chipleader still running over the table, I was in push-with-any-two-and-pray mode. Drizz agreed. The very next hand on the button with 23c just wasn't enough to push with. Drizz called me a pussy.

The very next hand I decided to show the railbird just how much of a pussy I was not--by pushing with 10-5o. I really didn't have much of a choice. It was folded to me, I had the lowest, most pitiful stack on the table, and making a stand with 10 high was my only move. I knew I'd be called by the chipleader regardless of what he held. I was hoping that he'd show 9 high, but instead he flipped up A9o.


The chatbox looked something like this, right before the flop was dealt:

Me: Awwwww *&#@ me.

The flop looked something like this:


The turn gave me a little glimmer of hope, even if it still left me far behind.


Drizz, in the Yahoo! IM did a little something like this:

And wouldn't you know it, the river came out a lovely, beautiful Bo Derek of clubs. Honestly, it could've been a different suit, I don't know. I was so juiced that my computer almost shot across the room, I jumped up that quickly.

The very next hand I was dealt QQ, and when a shortstack went all-in before me, I was this close to hitting the fold button, with a misclick. I would've been livid, but I was still in my own head enough to be able to take my hand off the mouse and wait for a second before pushing.

He turned over 88, I think, and I was sitting in 2nd place with T35,000.

With a healthy chipstack, and a horseshoe planted so deep in my ass that my saliva tasted metallic, Drizz bid me adieu. Something about going to bed or some bullshit like that, but for reasons you'll soon see, it's better that you left, man.

Down to four players, the chipleader disconnected. Over and over and over again. He had 2x the chips of anybody else, so the other 3 of us had to sit there and wait the required 240 seconds for him to reconnect. He'd always come back before his time was up, but almost immediately disconnect again. I was so frustrated and tired at this time, that I emailed support to see what could be done about it.

Nothing, apparently. I didn't get the reply from support until this morning, but even so, they said that, in order to be fair, they do allow extra time for the player to reconnect. Yes, I understand that part, but when it's done repeatedly, and when eliminating 2 more players takes just as long as it did to eliminate the previous 176, it's a problem.

It was at least an hour and a half of final table hoopla before we got down to heads-up. My nemesis, the man I sucked out repeatedly to get to this spot(man, those hands were pretty) held a slight chiplead.

Hand o' the tournament:
Hero (t99312)
BB (t170688)

Preflop: Hero is Button with Kd, 6d.

Hero raises to t16000, BB calls t8000.
Flop: (t24400) Qd, 8c, 5d (2 players)
BB checks, Hero bets t24000, BB calls t24000.
Turn: (t72400) 9c (2 players)
BB checks, Hero bets t58912 (All-In), BB calls t58912.
River: (t190224) Ad (2 players, 1 all-in)
Final Pot: t190224

He had KJo.

I don't understand what he's thinking here. Wait, I think I've got it. It's the only thing that makes sense.

When he started the final table with a big chiplead, he was, by far, the most aggressive person I've played against in a long time, no offense to any bloggers. He was more aggressive than GROB. His line of action was that, if he was going to raise, he was raising enough to put anyone else at the table all-in. 10x-12x the BB was normal.

But when got down to heads-up, he turned super passive. This was all after his disconnects, so it almost makes me think that it was a different person playing these hands heads up. I can't imagine why someone that played so maniacally aggressive at a full table would turn into such a pansy against only one other person. The only explanation I can offer up is that he called a friend to play these final hands for him.

I bumped my chiplead after this hand up to 4-1, but everything went to shit from there. I was card dead in the hands he jammed with, and when I finally got hands, he'd fold pre-flop. Ah, such is heads-up poker at it's worst.

At one point, I thought that I might win the damn thing with the hammer, but when I bet out on a 7 high board, he folded like a cheap tent. I would've ridden that hand to my demise had he reraised me all-in. Joanne was ready to take a screenshot if he chose to be stupid enough to go up against an unbeatable hand. Not to be, though.

We flip-flopped back and forth for a few more minutes before I succumbed to his slow-played aces when I flopped top pair, no kicker. To tell the truth, I just wanted the tournament to be over. After 5 hours of tourney play, 2 damn hours, and one friggin minute of that being at the final table, I was exhausted.

And all this time I thought the whole point behind these smaller MTT's was that they required less time committment. Oof. I got lucky a few times, sure, but I feel I played well overall, even though I asked "Do you think he's got the king?" more than a few times to people that were watching. He always had a king.

So, thank you to Drizz and Joanne for railbirding, and thank you to PokerStars for giving me another 2nd place finish.

Hey, in the event that the champion can't fulfill his duties, at least I know I'm first in line to step up in his place.

PokerStars Tournament #15123325, No Limit Hold'em
Buy-In: $20.00/$2.00
180 players
Total Prize Pool: $3600.00
Tournament started - 2005/11/14 - 20:11:38 (ET)

Dear Donegal,

You finished the tournament in 2nd place.
A $720.00 award has been credited to your Real Money account.

You earned 218.81 tournament leader points in this tournament.
For information about our tournament leader board, see our web site at

Thank you for participating.

So, who wants to play heads-up?

Monday, November 14, 2005

9th/87 in the WWdN Thursday night warm-up.
7th/93 in the Dr Pauly's Race for the Hangover Cure tourney.
4th/33 in the WPBT Shootout.
10th/180 Stars 20 table SNG

Since Thursday, I've final tabled in 3 touraments and final table bubbled in one other. I'm still stinging a little bit by how I went out of the WPBT shootout, but I'll get to that in a little bit.

Yes, I said that I hate tournaments, and they are a bane to my poker existence, but I just can't seem to get away from them with results like I had this weekend. True, I'm still missing a win and a big score, but that has to come sometime, right? Probably not, but it's something to work for. For now, I'll continue to play them sporadically, and when other bloggers are involved. The support does help.

That said, though, these blogger tourneys can only help one's game. I'd like to attribute my game getting recently to not being able to play like a dumbass in front of people I respect, and seek the same in kind. When I'm playing in a tourney with a bunch of randoms, I tend to lack patience and the ability to pay attention. You can't do that with the likes of Grob, Joe Speaker and Jason Spacemen at your table. It simply is not allowed.

I got zero cards for the first hour of the Shoutout tourney on Full Tilt, and even if I wanted to limp with speculative hands, I know it's just not possible. It's going to get raised and possibly even reraised with both people showing down very little, so I know better than to get in the middle of that. Even so, I'm happy with the way I played right around the final table bubble.

And I think that having 'bubble time' skills is crucial to tournament poker, and something I've improved upon in the last few months. I'm not the player--yet--that chips up easily into a decent stack, so I find myself having to double-up at least once in most tournaments to survive. Most people do. I've learned the patience to jam at the right time, against the right people. And to not attempt to steal from under the gun with small aces. That too.

Back to the WPBT shoot-out; I was in double-up mode with around 15 people left. I had an M of 5-6, so my only move was to jam with any two decent cards. Those cards were KK. Twice in 4 hands. I didn't get a call with either, but it allowed me to gain a few more blinds and antes that I desperately needed. I couldn't play them any different, either. I hadn't raised all afternoon, and suddenly come in with a raise of half my stack?


If my defective memory serves me correctly, I pushed close to 356 times--give or take two--before doubling up with A7s vs. 99 and having a shot at winning a seat. That is, until my final hand.

Down to the final 4 and KK in the small blind? Wow. And a raise by Jason on the button? Double wow.

And double-up!

Until he(reluctantly, I'm sure) called with AA.


Play perfect all-in monkey poker for over two hours, and that happens. Not a bad beat, just rotten timing.

I was much happier with my seat draw at this final table, what with two somewhat short stacks to my left so steals were easier to come by. Not at all like my final table seat in Pauly's saturday tourney--two maniac big stacks directly to my left does not an easy final table make.

Monday, November 07, 2005

I'm going to have to side with Drizz here and say that I may not be cut out for tournaments. For one, they're a huge time committment, time that I don't always have, and second, the long term seems to be a big pile of bullshit.

Yes, I realize that my thought process is a little flawed here, but hear me out.

In a cash game, if you continue to make a play with a certain hand that has a positive expectation and the price is right for you to continue drawing, even if you are behind against an opponent(you don't know that at the time) over the long run you will come out ahead. With a large enough sample size--that apparently has no real-world value, and nobody can tell you what an adequate sample size really is. That blows my mind--you will come out ahead. The odds work out in your favor. Sure, you may get sucked out on by some wanktard and lose a whole stack, but you can always reload. You always get another crack at getting your money back.

In a tournement, though, your money is thrown into the mix up front. And if you find yourself in the same situation as above, pot odds mean realiatively little, especially when your tournament life is on the line. There is no long run.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that you can get lucky in tournaments and survive--if only for the duration of that tournament--and possibly even have a big score. You can't, however, do the same in the cash game and expect to be around a year from now, because you will go broke. I don't know how well I can stomach the luck factor. Or rather, I don't know how long I can stomach it and still keep anything resembling a bankroll intact.

I've proven--at least a little bit--that I have something to compete in these competitions, but I just don't have the consistency in results to keep going. I've made a handful of final tables, not really cashing for a huge amount, but enough to not thumb my nose at. Though they are the fuel feeding the poker furnace, and the reason that so many people have started playing the game, it blows my mind that so many people can continue playing them with poorer results than I.

I like tournaments, and the thrill from weeding through thousands of people is unlike winning a pot in the cash game. There is no sense of immediacy in the cash game to get ahead. If you're stuck and play smartly, you can turn things around. A good player can always get ahead. Not always true in a tournament. There is a gotta double up, gotta steal, gotta get ahead mentality that provides a different kind of rush.

But, just look at how many posts there are per day about some underskilled, over-retarded player sucking out on someone that is much better player. Felicia is a ten times the player I am, and if she's losing money at them, I shouldn't be playing tournaments like I have. I just may not be cut out for tournament play.

The thing that kills me is that now that I realize that tournaments are the pox on my poker wang, there has to be an equivalent of a WPBT online tourney every damn-diggidy-doggone day of the week. And I can't say no to you people. If entering a normal tournament--one that has 75% bad players entered--is -ev for me, then entering those that contain smaller fields, with many more good players, definitely can't be good for me.

Less dead money entered means that sooner, rather than later, I'll be the dead money. Guaranteed.

Sunday, November 06, 2005

Yesterday was a depressing tournament day. I started out playing in the inaugural Saturdays with Pauly event, busted out super early on a river suckout. From there I proceeded to bust out of both the 8K guaranteed and the PLO tourney on Full Tilt, the last with a field comprised of 10% bloggers. Can we say "bad idea"?

I couldn't at the time, and it wouldn't have surprised me if the final table ended up being a bloggers who's who. There is bad play at every site on the internerd, but it's been pointed out by more than a few people out there that you will see some of the most fucked up tournament play on Full Tilt, no contest.

That's it, no more tournaments for me for the day. I'd had enough. I wasted $50 and I never came close to sniffing the people that came close to cashing. Pathetic. It's far worse to be card dead and misplay the few playable hands dealt to me than it is to get sucked out on repeatedly. In the former, the only person beating me is me.

The rest of the day was spent making back the lost buy-ins on the Full Tilt 6 max tables. I ended the day ahead, though now that I look back at my hourly rate, the time spent versus the compensation is laughable. I'm used to Doyle's 6-max, which are maniacal. If you can stand the swings, you will make money, and quickly. The Full Tilt tables are much, much tighter, and much more passive, requiring the patience to grind out a marginal win. Unless your best friends are a helmet and a drool cup, you will make money on Full Tilt.

My main beef with ABC poker, though, is that it's monotonous. As long as you have the discipline to fold where you don't think you have an edge, it's hard to come out behind. I don't always play to fold, though.

Bring in pot limit omaha, the closest thing to gambling crack that I'll ever play. I'm addicted. And an idiot.

Last night, a little buzzed, partially tired, and wholly dumbified, I watched a replay of the 2004 WSOP PLO event, and I thought "Hey, I wonder if what PLO tourneys are on the slate for tomorrow?" So, I looked. And I found a $10+$1 on Full Tilt at 10:30 this morning.

I set my alarm for 10am, and that's not something I should ever do on a weekend. Like I said, crack.

Was it worth getting out of bed early to play 4 hands total? Probably not. Was I happy that I played the pot/call game when I had the nuts(AAA) on the turn, in addition to the nut flush draw, only to be called all the way by king high, my opponent catching his 3 outer on the river? Of course not.

I did, however, feel all warm and fuzzy after checking back a few hands later to see that the ulti-calling station wasted my chips in an efficient fashion, busting out in 30th place. Out of 41. God that felt good. Two hours later, it still does.

Who lit the fire under the Vikings ass this week? Wow. Their biggest weakness isn't the poor defense, the complete and utter lack of a running game, or the Atlantian "hired help" not coming through for them. The biggest weakness is(was) Daunte's Happy Feet.

Everybody likes a BJ, especially one with a Super Bowl ring.

Anyhow, yesterday I impulsively purchased The Psychology of Poker by Alan Shoonmaker, Ph.D. A few pages into it, I can already tell it's going to help me out in one of my weakest areas; mindset. Strategy? Anybody can read a book and play a certain way. Calculating odds? Chad Can Do.

But ask me to keep my head in the game, and I'll look at you like you're trying to explain the female reproductive system or how Scott Bakula became a movie star. I just don't get it.

Babies come from where? Gross.

To end this post, here's some stats from my Full Tilt sessions today.

PFR: 15%
Blinds collected(no calls): 914

Wow, thems some tight tables. Hooboy.

Skol Vikings?

Wednesday, November 02, 2005

WWPBD- What Would Poker Bloggers Do?

Same 3/6 table as my last post, I'm in 3s, but not involved in the hand. I am sitting 2 off the button.

It's folded to the guy directly to my right, who raises. It's folded around to the blinds, who both call. Three players see the flop.

Flop:x-8-A rainbow.

Both blinds check, the 2s bets, is called by both of the blinds.


The sb immediately fires out the $6 dollar bet, and the bb folds. At this point, the dealer mistakenly thinks that the hand is over, and that everybody folded to the old guy in the sb. She starts to collect the cards, and before they can get all mixed together, the 2s speaks up that he still has cards. She hasn't touched the board yet.

She calls the floor over, and it's ruled that the muck and burn cards are seperate(touching a little bit, but discernible), and that she can continue the hand. At the time, it looked to me that the ruling was fair enough. As the dealer picks up the rest of the deck, and replaces the cut card underneath, the cut slides off the bottom card a little and I see that it's the jack of clubs. I also notice that the rest of the deck waiting to be dealt looked a little on the small side.

14 (mucked cards)+2 (burn cards)=16 cards in one pile

That means that there should've been 32 cards in the deck waiting to be dealt. Yeah, she definitely picked up the smaller of the two piles and started dealing from the muck, though I didn't realize it at the time. The rest of the hand went smoothly.

River: J

Small blind bets out, the 2s calls and they both flip over their hands.

Sb--AJo(two pair-aces and jacks)
2s--KK(two pair-kings and eights)

The Bb, who folded on the turn, asked the dealer to flip over the top two cards in the deck she ended up dealing from( they were two low cards) and said that he folded pocket jacks. He was pissed because he thought that he would've made the winning full house on the river.

In theory, the hand played out as most likely should've, minus the river card, which may not have helped the 2s's hand. The big blind wouldn't have stayed in the hand until the river with pocket jacks on an ace high board(which is why he folded in the first damn place) And there's no saying if the case jack was in the muck to begin with, or that jack on the river was actually his, or even if the jack of clubs was his other hole card. He didn't say. But I believe him when he said that he had pocket jacks.

But if you had all the information that I had, in the position I was out of the hand, would you have said something about it? What about if you were the 2s?

I just finished watching Shrek at work(our computers were ordered with DVD players, I don't know why), and as long as I'm in the slacking kind of mood, I might as well try to Hulk smash out the rest of my day at Canterbury.

After the quad aces debacle, the table tightened up considerably. The dealer went as far as proclaiming it "The Tighest 3/6 Table Of All Time. And it was.

In 5 out of the next 7 hands, the blinds chopped. In the two hands that didn't chop, only one other person limped in and it was checked around to showdown. That right there, folks, is boring poker.

Even during all the tightness, I got hosed. It was so tight that I'd raise UTG with AJo, and get just the blinds. Come to think of it, the only time I had a raise-worthy hand was UTG or UTG+1. My UTG+1 pocket 10's fell to the big blinds KQo when he turned a king. On the next rotation, my UTG+1 raise with pocket jacks was squashed by the big blinds two pair, 2's and 5's.

Note to self: Stay away from the guy two to my right.

Fortunately for me, the table broke, the guy that had my number(not literally, no) left up a rack and a half(thanks to me), and I was moved to a table across the room. Not so fortunately for me, I arrived at that table a rack and a half down.

Piling my meager 2 1/2 stacks of blues in the 2s of the new table, I saw another reason that I tend to enjoy the oppotunity to play online, as well as live; old people.

Now, I'm not an agist, and I have nothing against old people except for the funny smell. But I look at them, maybe 80 years young, possibly even pushing 90--hey, maybe even in a wheelchair with an oyxgen tank nearby, and a Med-alert bracelet card protector on top of a pile of chips--and I realize that, when I get old, I hope that I'm either dead, or have something better to do than sit at a 3/6 table on a early Monday evening. It's depressing.

The old man in the 5s jokingly said to the dealer" nobody to go home to, so why go home? Even the dog died 10 years ago". I didn't catch the end of the what he said because I walked over to grab a Cardplayer while waiting for my big blind to come around, or even what the conversation was all about because I missed the beggining, but I don't want to be that guy.

And then I opened up the issue of Cardplayer, saw of picture of Isabelle Mercier, and all was right in the world. I'd rather it be a picture of Cecilia Nordestam, but for that moment in time, everything was good.

It got better when I sat down a few hands after posting my big blind and spied AKo. UTG had already declared "Live six!", so when UTG+2 raised that, I was giddy. The 9s and 1s both folded, and I 3 bet it. Everybody else folded to the straddler.

Now, I'd been playing with him at the other table, and could tell he doesn't normally play 3/6. He was just playing to have fun and blow off some steam. He'd straddle every time he was under the gun, and then half-heartedly complain when nobody would play back at his powerful 23o. I was there to get better, not spar with a maniac.

Of course I was not suprised when he 4 bet it blind. Why would I be?

UTG+2 just called, and that should've been an alarm going off in my head to cap it. Against a blind hand and someone that just called a 4 bet, didn't reraise, I was looking pretty damn good. And I realize now that I'm a pussy for not capping the betting preflop. I'm a pretty, pretty pansy. A pansy that missed two 1/2 bets. Shit.

Flop: K-K-A.

Bingo, Bango, Bongo, I just got hit by a monster truck.

Ok, who really cares about how the rest of the betting went? I surely don't. Let's just say that I won a very large pot because UTG+2 had AQo and called all my bets down to the river. The straddler had 10-5o and bowed out on the turn.

Yay, I'm back up to only $50 down for the session. I cheered that at the table. To myself of course. No need to be rude.

coming up next: A moral dilemma at the poker table?

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

I had originally planned on playing hooky from work for a different reason yesterday, but when that reason thought it best to get out of bed and go to class(so much for the best laid plans), I made the executive decision to call the work day a wash and head down to Canterbury Park.

I hadn't been down there since May, right before the last WPBT. The first thing I noticed when entering the room was the complete lack of a board. As in, there was nobody, not an absolute soul waiting in line to get on a table. This might be normal for a Monday at 2pm, but I've definitely never seen it as dead as it was all of yesterday, even into the early evening. So weird.

I'm immediately sat in a 3/6 game, with a move request to 4/8, though I never took that option when it was presented to me. It was hard enough to keep our table full, so I can't imagine that moving up in limits would've been more profitable, or productive for me.

You know what's great? I'll tell you.

Sitting down, immediately posting one off the button(it's required at Canterbury), and then folding my hand to no raise. Such a newb mistake. So, when I'm in Vegas, check my option for me before I have the chance to fold it, ok? Just so I don't look like a complete tool. The blinds ended up chopping, and the dealer was nice enough to leave my bet out there as if I had not even been dealt cards that hand, which was nice of him. He admitted that he wasn't paying attention, either, but I know the blame was all on me. I know better.

The worst aspect of live play is the lack of a "chat off" button, because it's always the people that blabber incessantly that know the least about the game they think they're playing.

For example: A few hands into my session, the 3s and the dealer start talking about betting great draws. Let's say you hold AKh, and the flop comes out all low with two hearts. Personally, I'd bet that pretty damn strong, and if I hit my heart draw, and maybe even just one of my overs, I'm going to win a big pot.

But not the 3s, oh no.

"I'll just check call me way down to the river."

The dealer looked at him with a level of pity normally reserved for three legged dogs and a retard with chicken pox. Or a retarded three-legged dog with chicken pox. Oh, you poor thing. You don't even know how dumb you sound right about now. Even though the table was equipped with an automatic shufflemaster, there wasn't any way for me to revoke the 3s's chat.

I was aghast. I was as aghast as I thought humanly possible. Until he started talking about playing online.

"Yeah, I had a royal flush once. And luckily the guy behind me was the bottom end of the straight flush!"

No, you didn't.

"It was so cool!"

No, it wasn't. Stop lying.

When he started in about Party Poker being rigged with action flops, I was happy that I'd not yet been drinking. Oh, and that I'm not a confrontational person. If there's any way to annoy me more than uttering the 'r'('rigged', for all the thinking challenged reading this) word, I do not want to know about it, for I fear my head will explode. And nobody wants to be cleaning up that mess.

He went on a diatribe about being seated in an MTT where three players were all in pre-flop, one with AA, the next with KK, and the last with QQ. I wanted to point out that he just bragged about his royal beating a straight flush, but I know my logic would've been met with stares of bewilderment. Not the good kind, either. He spewed on and on--though nobody even asked in the first place--about being the victor in the battle of straigh flushes. How often does that happen? I'd wager a guess and say, uh, less than three people being dealt high pocket pairs, that's for sure.

Bite your tongue, Chad. And then bite it harder.

I was happy when his talking-too-much, not-spewing-enough-chips self left, and was replaced by a guy that was more than happy to distribute his stack somewhat evenly about the table. That's always nice.

Funniest hand of all time:

This happened 4 hours into my session between the 1s(sb) and 2s(bb). Only one other person was in the hand, and he dropped out after the flop was dealt


The small blind checked, the big blind bet, and was called just like everybody on our end of the table knew he would be. The 1s called every bet and two bet that came to him. If he was dealt more than one card, you knew he was coming along for the ride.

Turn: A

The small blind bet out and the big blind just called. To me that looked like both of them might have Ace-rag.


Well, didn't this just get a little more interesting? Why, yes, yes it did. The only thing that would make it more interesting was the raising war that ensued. There's no cap on hands played heads-up, and this particular hand made it to 6 bets on the river, and each raise had the 2s looking at his cards and then back at the board. It was obvious he had the case ace. A little part of me was hoping that someone had slipped an extra bullet in the deck as a Halloween joke, but that hope was quickly squashed when the 1s finally just called the last raise and uttered possibly the stupidest thing ever said in the company of another human being, let alone in a poker room.

"You have the ace?" he grunted as he turned over 10-4o.

It took you six bets to realize that your full house was no good? I looked around for Allen Funt to come out, because I know there had to be some Candid Camera shit going on up in this bizznatch. Alas, no Allen Funt on Halloween. (That's because he's dead, folks.)

I would've been happy with Peter Funt.

To be continued. (If you're lucky, punk)